Father Figure

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “It is kind of hot in here,” he smiled at me warily as he stepped back.

  His body had been hard and muscled, and it made me realize the strength hidden beneath those priest’s clothes.

  I frowned and he moved to the doorway.

  “I’ve left sheets and towels on the dresser, and there’s a bathroom on the floor below. Don’t worry if you hear us moving around before dawn…”

  “Us?” I said sharply.

  “Ah, I should have explained. I live here with two other priests: Father Miguel Angel and Father Neil, and of course, Mrs. O’Connor, as I said. She’s our housekeeper, very Irish, talks a lot—you’ll love her.” He paused. “Prayers are at 5.30 am—you’d be more than welcome to join us. It doesn’t matter if you’re not of the Faith—everyone is welcome.”

  I stared back at him unspeaking, pushing my hair out of my face. His eyes followed the movement of my hand: yeah, men loved my cascade of red curls, and Gabriel wasn’t blind.

  “Okay, well … sleep good, Blue. I’ll see you in the morning. You’ll be in my prayers.”

  I’ll be in your nightmares soon.

  When he was gone, I closed the door and searched in vain for a lock. If it hadn’t been so late, I would have gone out to get one. At least the bed wasn’t too heavy—I could drag it in front of the door while I slept. I didn’t trust anyone, even priests.

  Especially priests.

  I sat on the edge of the bed with the door open, listening. I could hear Gabriel somewhere in the house talking. I couldn’t hear another voice, so I figured he was on his phone—probably explaining why he hadn’t gotten to his basketball game. An hour later, I heard the front door open and slam shut, then the deep burr of two other men speaking. My heart gave a little skip of fear—I didn’t like being alone in a house with three men. If I had to be around dudes, I made sure I was in charge and called the shots. But here, I was on their turf: I had to be careful.

  By the time the house fell silent, I was busting for a bathroom break. I slid off my flip-flops and tiptoed down the stairs, missing out the steps that creaked. I used the bathroom, eyeing the shower, but decided to wait until tomorrow. Besides, I wanted to check the place out while everyone was asleep. I’d scoped it from the outside, but now I needed to know the internal layout.

  I quickly worked out that the housekeeper’s room was next to the bathroom and directly below mine which could be a problem. I’d have to hope that she was old and deaf or it could put a crease in my plans to move about the house freely. I knew she was a grandmother, but in my neighborhood, a gran could be as young as 30.

  The three priests lived across the hall and had their own bathroom. I listened at the doors, trying to tell from the snores which room belonged to Gabriel, but all I could hear was the ever-present rumble of traffic in the street outside.

  I’d save that part of the reconnaissance for another time.

  The ground floor was made up of a sort of library/office with three desks crammed inside, piles of paper heaped on top and Bibles used as paperweights. Next to that was a TV room with a worn leather couch and three battered armchairs. Only the flatscreen looked new.

  The front door was right by the TV room, but it was locked and a heavy bolt had been pushed into place. Sweat broke out on the back of my neck—the feeling of being trapped that tightened inside me.

  I forced myself to count to ten, reminding myself that I held all the cards, then continued my search of the place. But the only rooms I hadn’t seen yet was a tiny bathroom with a toilet and basin, and then the large kitchen with a massive pine table in the center.

  My stomach rumbled and I was halfway to the big old 80s refrigerator when the back door opened and someone flipped the switch, flooding the room with bright electric light.

  An older woman with a face so wrinkled it looked like someone had plowed it gaped at me, then screeched louder than a train whistle.

  “Thief!” she screamed. “Thief!”

  I stared back at her, my heart triple-timing when I heard footsteps thundering down the stairs—more than one set of feet.

  We both turned to the doorway. Framed in the light was Gabriel, naked except for a pair of boxer briefs. My eyes traveled over the thick ropes of muscle that knotted his arms, the ink flowing over his incredible chest, and the impressive package hidden behind his black briefs. My cheeks flared with heat.

  Behind him stood two other men wearing knee-length bathrobes.

  “Father Gabriel!” yelped the old woman. “I caught a t’ief in me kitchen, so I did!”

  Her strong brogue made it clear that I’d stumbled upon the Irish housekeeper.

  “I’m not a thief!” I shot back, lying my cute little ass off.

  “Then explain what you’re doing in me own kitchen, the brass neck o’ ye!”

  “He invited me,” I said, pointing at Gabriel.

  We all turned to stare at him.

  “Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph,” said Mrs. O’Connor, her tone going from angry to aggrieved. “Would ye be putting some clothes on now, Father Gabriel. ‘Tis ungodly to march around as naked as the day you were born.”

  “Sorry, Mrs. O’Cee,” he said with a grin. “I thought you were staying with your daughter tonight. This is Blue—she’d gotten into some trouble and needed a place to stay. I knew Bernadette’s room was empty. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “Mind?! Jayus, me life flashed before me eyes, so it did, finding this flibberty jib standing in me kitchen.”

  “Now, now, Mrs. O’Cee,” said the priest with light brown hair. “Let’s all sit down and find out what’s going on. Good Heavens, I think we could all do with a nice cup of tea for the shock. Father Gabriel, some clothes?” he said, inclining his head.

  Gabriel disappeared, running up the stairs, but not before I’d seen the tattoo on his back—a skeleton of a frog on his left shoulder … and the name Luke.

  My hands started to shake and I struggled to breathe.

  “Ah, poor girl, you’ve had a shock,” said the kindly priest, patting my arm awkwardly and helping me into a chair.

  He was right, I had, but not being accused of theft. It was Gabriel’s ink—I knew that SEALs got those tattoos when a friend in the service died. They were practically branded with them at the funeral. It had been seeing my father’s name under the tattoo that had shaken me: and the date he’d died—more than eight months before I’d been born.

  Had my father ever known about me? I’d always wondered, but now it seemed less and less likely. My own father hadn’t even known I’d existed. He should have! He should have known!

  Tears pricked my eyes and I suddenly felt deathly tired.

  “I’m Father Neil,” said the priest with the kind voice. “And this is Father Miguel Angel, and I believe you’ve met our housekeeper, Mrs. O’Connor. Just relax there for a minute, Blue, is it?”

  I nodded, taking a stuttering breath while the housekeeper stared at me with narrowed eyes.

  A minute later Gabriel reappeared wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

  “I’ll put the kettle on,” muttered the housekeeper grumpily.

  “Not on my account,” said Gabriel, and he reached for a bottle of whiskey and several shot glasses.

  I reached for one, as well, but his large hand gripped my wrist.

  “There’s no way you’re over 21, Blue,” he said.

  I tugged my wrist free and glared at him.

  “I’ve been drinking since I was nine,” I snorted.

  Which wasn’t untrue. I used to finish up my mom’s bottles of beer after she’d been partying. Sometimes it was the only liquid in the house when the water had been cut off.

  “How old are you?” he asked.

  “Twenty-two,” I lied boldly, meeting his gaze with a challenging stare. “And I’m not in a damn bar or a car either, so it’s legal anyway.”

  A small smile twitched his lips, but he didn’t argue, simply pouring out five glasses.

  “For me n
erves,” said the housekeeper, abandoning the kettle and swallowing her whiskey in one shot. Gabriel winked at her and swallowed two shots, one after another, then re-filled his glass. I saw the other priests exchange glances, but no one said anything.

  I sat and listened while Gabriel explained what I was doing here, brushing over the part where he’d found me on my knees with a john’s dick in my mouth. I don’t know why he left that out, but when I met his eyes, he just smiled and gave a tiny nod.

  “So Blue needed a place to stay, but not in one of the shelters,” he finished up.

  “Indeed!” said the housekeeper, who seemed far less trusting than the priests. “And what were you doing in my kitchen at one in the morning?”

  I blinked at her innocently.

  “I was hungry.”

  Immediately, her ire turned to Gabriel.

  “Did you not think to feed the child? Wisht! Men! Can’t be minded to find their noses on the end of their faces. Could you eat a cheese and ham sandwich, child?”

  And suddenly, the housekeeper was bustling around fixing me an enormous plate of food while Gabriel shot me an apologetic look.

  So because I was hungry, homeless and—they assumed—helpless, I was welcomed into St. Peter’s Rectory.

  I ate my food in silence, listening to the playful banter around the room, feeling the love and respect flowing between the three priests and their elderly housekeeper.

  Father Neil was the kind one, the nurturer; Father Miguel Angel was the thoughtful one, the academic who knew the Bible backward and could quote it in Latin and Greek; Mrs. O’Connor was their den mother, looking after their daily comforts, making their beds and feeding their stomachs. And then there was Gabriel, the warrior priest, the fierce one, the one with dark secrets.

  They’d accepted me so trustingly, but I would be the snake in their San Diego Garden of Eden, pouring doubt and desire into their happy little world.

  I’d hide in plain sight, so innocent, so young, so full of hatred and revenge.

  God help them. Because I wouldn’t.

  Chapter Seven

  Gabriel

  After I’d sent Blue to her room for the second time, I was wide awake so I headed for the mean streets, hitting the jackpot right where I’d found her several hours earlier.

  Did she have a pimp? She seemed to be alone but I had to admit I had no idea how these operations worked in this day and age. Now everything was on the internet, I wouldn’t be shocked if they had some pimp app that johns went on.

  Back in my day, in addition to the women hooking the streets, they could also be found on the back page of the sleazy local newspapers or taped up in a phone booth. Ah. The simple days. Now everyone hid behind a computer screen, unable to face the world and their sins.

  Was that why I was so drawn to Blue? For her blatant refusal to hide in the mask of night. She knew who she was and owned it. Unlike me, a murderer masquerading as a priest.

  I cruised the alley where I’d found her but didn’t see any candidates for my rage, so I parked up in a corner lot and prayed for a miracle, cursing myself under my breath for using the power of prayer for evil.

  But God was good to me today, understanding of my needs. Almost as soon as the ‘Amen’ left my thoughts, the rumble of a car put me on alert. I looked up, and saw a man getting out of an old Beamer, looking for something or someone. Our eyes met.

  He was the one that had stuck his dick in Blue’s mouth.

  And being knocked out hadn’t taught him his lesson; he was back for a second round.

  His battered face registered recognition and the realization that three hours earlier, I’d put an end to his sinning. Like the coward he was, he raced back to his car.

  But he was out of condition, too slow, and no match for the fury that made me fast.

  I ran after him, body-slamming him into his car door.

  “Not too smart, eh? You didn’t get the message the first time, and now you’re back for more retribution?”

  He shook his head as I wrapped my hand around his throat. I could end his life in minutes, and I was certain he could sense that.

  “N-no, no. That’s not it. I came back to apologize. To the girl. At least pay her.”

  Liar.

  “No, you didn’t. You came back to sin again.” I glanced down at his trembling hand which displayed a wedding ring. Now, I hated him even more, if that was possible. I hadn’t been blessed with a wife or family—my sins had cost me everything. And this guy had some poor hapless wife and possibly children at home while he went out and got a street kid to suck him off

  “I didn’t. I swear!” he croaked as my fist tightened around his neck.

  My hand became wet and I realized that it was from a mixture of his tears and sweat.

  I released my grip.

  “Go, and sin no more. Go the fuck home to your wife. And get some help from someone. Clergy or a counselor. You are a fucking mess. I could’ve killed you right now, and then your wife would have found out where you’d been and what you were doing when you died. And she’d spend your funeral wondering about what a scum she was married to.”

  I turned and walked away. He wasn’t who I wanted. Just another john. I was hunting the person who was responsible for luring Blue into this life.

  And I would make him pay. But as the night wore on, I saw only the defeated and the desperate. I spent the last of the dollars I had in my wallet to buy burgers for a group of homeless guys. But they gave me a name, a man who ran the whores in this part of town: Cornelius.

  I drifted home two hours before dawn broke, careful to avoid everyone.

  My fellow priests would not have approved of my hands-on approach to the worst of sinners.

  I glanced up the stairs that led to the attic, then headed for the shower, trying to force my mind toward Morning Mass, but my thoughts drifted to Blue. It was refreshing to be around a woman who wasn’t old enough to be my grandmother.

  I’d once been a young horny Navy SEAL, who had loved sex.

  Not just loved it but had been addicted to it.

  Everything about sex had consumed me. The warmth from a perfect kiss, the softness of a woman’s breasts, the wetness of her folds, the taste of her pussy, the way my cock felt buried deep inside of her.

  The memories tormented me. Dear Jesus! What was happening to me?

  The blonde woman at the gym hadn’t done a thing for me, but suddenly, I was doubting my ability to say no. Why?

  Surely my faith was strong enough to resist these urges? Until today, I’d never had a doubt, but now I felt the solidity of my certainty beginning to crack.

  Ten years. Ten years I had denied myself that forbidden pleasure.

  I shut the bathroom door, slammed it was more accurate.

  I grabbed my old Series 5 iPhone and turned on some music as I showered. It was my one worldly indulgence as a priest, but the WhatsApp group for morning prayers was useful.

  Music. I needed … something hard. Something rough. Something loud enough to mask what I was about to do.

  I picked a 90s heavy metal classic—one of the anthems we’d used when we were about to go on a mission. Just hearing the heavy chords brought me back to the night that we had gone on our final jump. Luke had been by my side. The helo’s rotor blades cut the air above us and with laser focus, we leapt into the night, never knowing what hell awaited us below.

  But I didn’t want to think about Luke. Not now.

  I wanted to think about what that sexy little redhead sleeping in the attic room was wearing. Maybe she had stripped off her clothes and was sleeping in nothing but the black thong that I had seen poking over her waistband.

  Or maybe she was sleeping naked.

  And possibly, she was wet, thinking about me.

  Blood pounded through me, my body crying out for release, despite the violence I’d unleashed earlier.

  Yes, I’d seen her look me over, the way a woman looks at a man she’s attracted to. These days, I portray
ed myself as an asexual priest. But somehow, she saw beneath the clerical collar and recognized me as the virile SEAL I’d once been. Probably because I’d punched out the john she’d been sucking off. Probably because she’d caught me staring at her tits.

  I closed my eyes, breathing deeply as the hot water pounded over my body. I was not about to do this.

  But the hardness of my cock straining against my hand begged for release.

  Fuck, I hadn’t masturbated in forever. All the pent up tension would break me. I was strong, I was weak, I was going to Hell.

  I gripped my cock harder, sending a jolt of adrenaline pumping through my veins.

  I was a sinner.

  But I had already sinned today, lusting after Blue. As a priest, I knew that men, even men of the cloth were not perfect. I was a sinner. Jesus had died for my sins. So had Luke.

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I stroked my cock. Tension in my balls built almost immediately and my breath sputtered. Man, this felt so good. Why had I denied myself this pleasure for so long? I pumped my cock faster and harder. The pleasure coming in waves. I closed my eyes and imagined Blue on her knees sucking me off like I had seen her do with that john. Her lips closing around my cock, licking me, rubbing me, kissing me.

  Holy fuck! Euphoria overtook me. This intense joy that I had just experienced was only momentarily, immediately replaced by crushing guilt, cum and hot water dripping from fingers.

  I cleaned myself up, shocked and overwhelmed. Back in my room, I knelt by my bed and prayed.

  “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Help me, I beg you! Help me find the right path.”

  After I prayed, I dressed in my black shirt and clerical collar.

  And one thing became utterly clear to me.

  Blue had to go.

  Chapter Eight

  Mariana

  At 5am, which was the middle of the freakin’ night as far as I was concerned, the household was up and about. I heard music coming from Gabriel’s room—nothing soft and soothing or religious, but hard and heavy that sounded like old school rock. It was unsettling, driven music with a pounding beat, and I hoped it meant I’d gotten under his skin. I’d just have to wait and see.