Night Flyer

by Temple Madison

  He was driving Gabe crazy with his hot lips grazing his flesh. Damn, this dark-haired devil was good. It made Gabe wonder how much experience he’d had doing this kind of thing? Hell, he’d probably sucked his first cock before he could walk.

  It didn’t matter.

  As long as he could make him quiver like that, making the velvety rush of an orgasm tease and taunt him until the final blast, he sure as hell didn’t care.

  Just then Deuce released him, and said, “Don’t come. Not yet.” He rose up over Gabe and lowered his body on top of him. “I’ve been waiting too long to be inside you. I want to see you when you come,” he said, “so don’t turn your head away.”

  “Okay, but hurry,” Gabe whispered as he felt him slicking his cock over with pre-cum. In anticipation, he lifted his legs, opening himself so he could sink inside with ease—but not too much ease. He liked it rough. He wanted it hard. And then Deuce leaned down close, his strong arms framing his shoulders. He could feel his cock press between his ass cheeks, but he wasn’t inside him yet.

  “Oh, God,” Gabe whispered when Deuce nuzzled his neck with his lips and tongue. Deuce’s hot breath traveled along his jaw line, each movement making Gabe whisper his name again and again. Moans whispered from his mouth until they were interrupted with deep, meaningful kisses with Deuce driving his tongue deeper.

  Gabe couldn’t stay still. He began to writhe and moan. Finally, Deuce eased himself up, and took his own cock in his hand, and lined it up with his hole. Gabe bit his lip as he felt the press of his cock, and then felt it slowly sinking inside. Deep. The sweet burn had his toes curling. But suddenly Gabe gasped when Deuce began to move in a slow rock. He was everywhere. His mouth, his ass, his heart, and he wanted it all. He wanted all of him. And then he gave him one last, slow kiss before he pulled back and took his legs in his hands as he set to showing him how inadequate all his other lovers had been.

  He pumped while clutching Gabe’s ass, pulling, pushing, pounding, until Gabe was literally crying out with delight. Sensations he never knew were possible flooded him. His ass was hot, and he could do nothing but cling to Deuce while he grazed his chest with his lips and tongue. The bed bounced wildly. Were they airborne? He wanted more, and he got more. He wanted rough, and he got rough. He wanted heat, and by God, he got heat!

  And then suddenly the taunting, teasing orgasm he knew was coming seemed to break through some kind of barrier, making him jerk, and then fall.

  Gabe lay still, his body aching. Was this possible? A man that worked out consistently feeling the ache of unused muscles simply because he’d had a mind-boggling round of sex? And yet there it was. When he looked over at Deuce it looked as if he were sleeping, so he closed his eyes in ecstasy, and fell asleep himself. He’d only been asleep for a while when suddenly he was woken up by Deuce jumping up and looking down at his watch.

  “Oh, hell, I’ve got to go.”

  “Go?” Gabe said. “Why? It’s still dark out. Why don’t you just stay the rest of the night?”

  “Uh…” Deuce began, and then finished with, “Oh, it…it’s my job. I’ve got to get back so…”

  “So what? I don’t understand,” Gabe said. “Why can’t you go to work from here?”

  “Well, I…”

  “If you need to shower there’s plenty of hot water. I’ve even got a new toothbrush…” Gabe’s words faded as he watched him run around getting dressed. “What the hell’s the matter with you? Why are you so jumpy? What is your job? What do you do?”

  Deuce just stood looking at him, and said, “Boring. You wouldn’t want to know. Real boring.”

  “Well, hell, I don’t care what it is. You can tell me. Are you a sewer worker? A pimp? I know…one of them…what do you call them…evangelists? God, I hate those guys.” He looked up at Deuce with suspicion, and frowned. “You’re not one of them, are you?”

  “No…not an evan…” His words stopped because he wondered if it was just evangelists he hated, or did he hate everyone in the ministry. All he knew was he couldn’t take the chance, so he simply said, “See you around.”

  * * * *

  The way Deuce left kept haunting Gabe, and in spite of the fact that he knew Deuce must be keeping some kind of secret, he wanted to see him again. Since he’d left in such a hurry, and hadn’t told Gabe where he lived, or even where he worked, he looked for him in every man’s face, listened for the sound of his voice in every word spoken, and even found himself club hopping to find him, but no luck. He was so much in his thoughts he even dreamed of him. Just about the time he had begun to believe he was a figment of his imagination he decided to go to Central Records at the station and have them run a check on him.

  “I don’t have much. Just a name. Think you can do anything with that?”

  “I’ll try. Are you in a hurry?”

  “Well, sure, but it’s personal. Just whenever you get to it, okay?”

  “Sure, but it’ll probably be a few days. I’ve got some stuff I’m working on right now.”

  “No problem,” Gabe said, working hard to appear to be fine with it.

  The truth was, it was all he could think of, but with only a name he didn’t think he should expect too much. And then a few days later when he happened to be at the precinct he stopped by, and his friend mentioned Deuce to him.

  “Hey, Gabe, you still interested in that Deuce Gannon guy you had me check on?”

  “Oh, yeah. What did you find out?”

  “Well…” He hesitated. “Maybe you’d better come in and sit down.”

  Gabe’s smile dropped. “This don’t sound good, Al, what’s goin’ on?”

  The officer didn’t say anything, just picked up a printout and handed it to him.

  The printout told Gabe everything he needed to know. All about Deuce’s checkered past, and if that wasn’t enough, he read further and saw the words Priest at Sacred Heart.

  Gabe slowly looked up at Al, and said, “Is this a joke?”

  “I swear, Gabe, this is not a joke. Apparently this…person…whoever he is, has quite a past. Did you bust him, or what? He’s not a friend of yours, is he?”

  Gabe closed his eyes in pain, not knowing how to answer the questions. “He’s nobody. Just forget him.”

  “Well, apparently he’s living a double life. A priest at Sacred Heart by day, but by night a hot, swingin’ guy that’s sure as hell got you by the balls. Damn. Can you imagine this guy saying prayers, listening to confessions, and telling his parishioners that the bread and wine he’s passing out is the flesh and blood of Jesus Christ? I wonder what his angle is?”

  As Gabe stared at the printout, finally his gaze moved from the unbelievable words he’d read to the officer’s face. “Al, are you sure about this? Could you have made a mistake? Maybe it’s the wrong—”

  “Gabe, you know me. I’m a hard head from way back. Nothing gets past me. I’ve been on this job since I graduated from the Academy. In all that time have you ever known me to make a mistake of this magnitude?” He indicated to the printout. “It’s all right there, man. This guy’s a…I don’t know what the hell he is. A gambler, a priest, a…” He looked up at Gabe. “Look, he’s probably turned over a new leaf, and if that’s true, then maybe he is a priest. But whatever he is…he’s got one hell of a story to tell.”

  Gabe had been knocked for a loop. He sure as hell didn’t expect this. He got up slowly from his chair, not noticing that the printout slipped off his lap and onto the floor.

  “What is this man to you, Gabe?”

  “Nothing. He’s…absolutely nothing. Not anymore,” Gabe whispered as he turned and hurried out.

  * * * *

  The shock of what Gabe had found out about Deuce numbed him. He could no longer feel anything. He gave himself totally to exercise, punishing himself on a regular basis. But his search for Deuce Gannon was over. He wanted to forget him. He wanted to forget that he’d fucked a friggin’ priest and was on his wa
y to hell, but it wouldn’t go away.

  He finally had to face the fact that he would have to go through the formality of a confession. But there was another way—maybe. Hoping he could get straight with God without it, that night when he went to bed he sank down beside his bed, and with a humble heart he began to pray.

  “Dear God, I…I am kind of…I mean, really sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my…uh…s-sins because of Thy just puni…” He hesitated, the guilt still eating at him, and although he was praying the prayer of contrition, the words he spoke sounded too mechanical or repetitious, and totally empty of feeling.

  “It wasn’t my fault!” he finally yelled, looking upward as if he could see right into heaven. “He didn’t tell me. He lied to me. I can’t be held responsible for that. I can’t read the bastard’s mind. Why should I have to pay for something he did? Why?” Finally, he wilted onto the floor, his head still lowered as he sobbed in the darkness. “Please, God,” he prayed. “Don’t…please don’t send me to Hell for this.”

  For days afterward the weight of his sin bore down so heavily on him, Gabe knew only one thing that would give him peace. He needed the absolution he had been avoiding. Even though he hadn’t been to mass in ages, he believed in the sacraments. He was a lost lamb, a prodigal son, a sheep who had wandered so far away from the fold he’d never be found. He was about as far away from forgiveness as the East was from the West. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he had another problem—his church was Sacred Heart—when he went. Sure, maybe he could go across town. Hell, he could even go out of town to another church for that matter, but how did that work? Could he get the forgiveness he needed from a strange church? Maybe, but he would feel better going to Sacred Heart.

  Making his decision, he reached for the phone, his hand shaking as he picked up the receiver. After he punched in the number, he spoke softly with his lips close to the mouthpiece. “Uh…yes. If I came in for a confession, who…what priest would be there to hear me?”

  “What day, sir?”

  “I don’t know. Today, I guess.”

  “Well, that would be Father Michael.”

  “Michael?” Gabe said, surprised.

  “Yes. Is that a problem?”

  “Oh, no. Do I have to set an appointment or anything? It’s…it’s been a long time since I’ve…confessed, and I’m sure things have changed.”

  “Anytime from ten to two. Just come in whenever it’s convenient, go directly into the confessional, and the priest will be there.”

  “Yes, okay. Thanks.” As he hung up the phone, he couldn’t believe his good luck.

  What a break, I won’t even have to see Deuce. I can be in and out in minutes, and Deuce will never know.

  Since he didn’t want to put this off, he dressed, and then ran out, his car wheeling and turning, and burning rubber until he stopped in front of Sacred Heart. He sat there for a few minutes looking at the church. In the face of so much beauty and magnificence, he felt small and inadequate. It put him in mind of a phrase he’d heard all his life.

  The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.

  For the first time in his life he knew what those words actually meant. They weren’t only mere words, they went deeper. Every man’s flesh consisted of feelings, experiences, guilt, sins, indulgences, wrongdoings that could get under a man’s skin and not be so easily cast off. How could he, or anyone, criticize their fellow man when everyone’s flesh was weak?

  Now, taking a deep breath, he parked the car, and slammed out. The moment he went in, he was in awe. It had been so long since he’d been there, he felt like he was in a new place. The church had subdued lighting, the atmosphere was close and intimate. He quickly found the confessional, and hurried toward it. Noticing the light wasn’t on, he didn’t hesitate, but went right in and knelt in the half-light.

  It was a tiny box, which to him felt like a coffin turned on its end and said, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been…I’m not sure how many days, months, or years since my last confession.” A tense pause folded over him as he struggled to recall the last time he had ventured into a church—any church—much less a confessional.

  “Go on, my son.”

  Gabe hesitated when he heard the familiar tone of the voice. “Are you Father Michael?”

  “I am,” the Father said.

  Heaving a sigh of relief, Gabe was quiet for a moment.

  “Are you there?” Father Michael said.

  Gabe whispered a quiet, “Yes…I’m here—”

  “You didn’t mention how long it had been since your last confession.”

  “I c-can’t remember.”

  “A year?”

  “More.”

  This time Father Michael’s voice was hesitant, almost impatient. “Two years?”

  Gabe groaned. “I said I can’t remember. Let’s just say it’s been a long time.”

  “I see,” Father Michael murmured.

  “Look, Father, you’ve got the wrong idea about this. I’m here for a specific reason.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For a specific sin. It’s something that just happened.”

  “Fine. Why not just get the more urgent ones out of the way? How many are there?”

  “There’s just one.”

  “Okay, please continue.”

  “It’s bad. It’s…” Gabe sighed, and then continued on, stumbling as he spoke. “I…I s-slept with a priest…”

  “You…what?”

  “I…I s-slept with a priest.”

  There was a heavy silence, and then the Father said, “Go on…my son.”

  “I didn’t know who he was. He was dressed like anyone else…I offered him a Pepsi…even spiked it. I finally checked him out and found that he had a past.”

  “But you said he was a priest.”

  “Now, he’s a priest. Once he was a high stakes gambler…”

  “Have you told anyone else this?”

  “No…I…All this is in confidence, isn’t it? I wouldn’t have come here if I thought it would get him in trouble. I don’t know if he’s living a double life, or if he’s just someone who wanted to change his life, and go straight, but I told you this in confidence. The gambling…all that’s in the past. Today he’s a priest. Hell, I know it’s kind of a stretch to go from a gambler to a priest, but…it’s the truth.”

  “What you’ve said here today is between you and God. Nothing leaves this room.”

  “Thank you, Father,” Gabe said, the sound of relief in his voice. “Do you think God can forgive me for what I’ve done? Like I told you, I had no idea who he was until later.”

  “I understand. You are absolved, my son.”

  A tearful smile broke out on Gabe’s face as he made the sign of the cross. “Thank you, Father…uh, I mean…God. Well…you and God.” Gabe hesitated. “You know what I mean.”

  Although Gabe spent the rest of the day in and out of the precinct, riding shotgun when needed, and listening to police speak over the scanner for any kind of an emergency that might require his help, he couldn’t get his confession out of his mind, and remembered the reaction of the priest on the other side of the screen. He hadn’t said anything, but he’d heard gasps, abrupt indrawn air, murmurs of what sounded like shock, and when he spoke, the Father seemed to speak with a strained voice. It all seemed strange. True, maybe he had slept with a priest, but weren’t these priests supposed to be immune to the things they heard? I mean, they hear sins day in and day out. They must have heard everything at one time or the other, even this. Why would his particular sin be one that would make the Father gasp?

  Something wasn’t right.

  He quickly made his way over to the Records Department again and peeked his head in. “Al, remember the background check you ran on Deuce Gannon? Do you still have that?”

  “Sure. I put it in the file here.”

  “Get it out and tell me if this guy h
ad any name other than Deuce Gannon.”

  “Just a minute.”

  Gabe watched while he reached in his drawer, flipped through some files, and then pulled it out.

  “Okay, here it is. Let’s see. Yeah, there is another name here. It appears that his given name is Michael, and Deuce is kind of a nickname, or something.”

  “Oh, my God,” Gabe mumbled under his breath. He’d just spilled his guts to Deuce Gannon. He was the “Father Michael” that was on the other side of the screen, hearing everything he had to say.

  “Is that what you needed?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Thanks.”

  “Anything else I can do for you? By the way, did—”

  He suddenly slammed the door shut, and began hitting himself on his forehead. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” And then realizing he had cut his friend off while he was still talking, he pushed the door back open, and said, “Sorry.”

  But he wasn’t only sorry, he was miserable. How was he going to fix this?

  My God, I’m in love with a priest! Not only a priest. A scandalous priest! A villainous priest! An outrageous priest, a crook, a delinquent, a lawbreaker, a felon!

  Chapter 4

  THE thunder roared, the lightning flashed, and a hard, driving rain beat down on the stained glass windows casting shadows that resembled crawling bugs on the dark walls of the church. The ugly little shapes moved constantly, giving the small area the feeling of a grave. The air was humid, and the lights flickered on and off with the lightning. Something evil had entered, turning God’s holy church into the Devil’s playground. When Deuce felt it, he wondered for a moment what was wrong until he looked out at the congregation and saw something that pierced his gut like a burning javelin, making him want to double over. He turned his gaze away quickly, grabbed the podium to steady himself, and took a deep breath.

  It was Tony “Mad Dog” Montana.

  He was the ugliest, meanest-looking man Deuce had ever seen, and he was in Deuce’s congregation. He had “mobster hitman” written all over him. He was dressed in the rich fabric of a dark suit with gold jewelry. He was articulate, clean shaven, and even his nails had been cleaned, buffed, and manicured. Deuce always thought it was strange that these mobsters went to so much trouble to keep their bodies clean when their souls were as black as sin. Mad Dog kept staring at him, not a smile on his face, not an utterance of a prayer on his lips, and not a knee bent to pray to the God who gave him life.