God's Love

Red lips, slightly opening, green eyes dilating, she felt him push her onto her back, and they lay on the bed, knocking against each other like the waves crashing in on the shore. She stared at him, tall, and dark; handsome in a unique way. His hair was black and shaggy, though he was clean shaven. She liked his contradicting smile and his lying foggy eyes. His desirable, tough, masculine growls began as he rammed his fleshy extension into her willing flower. Oh, how it excited her! She gave a shrill cry, not for mercy, but for more. And he came, soldiers of darkness, no longer barricaded by protective walls. He growled again as he fondled her breasts. He stopped for a moment to kiss her, passionately using what he’d learned long ago in France. Her eyes closed, and so did his as they felt the fiery romantic lust corrupt their pure Christian ways. One final squeal of joy followed by a barbaric growl ended their session. As she slipped back into her flowered summer dress she smiled at him. “Same time tomorrow, Father?” He nodded and zipped up his smooth black trousers, “After the sermon... I’ll be waiting.” She batted her eyelashes and kissed him before wandering into the night. It was the sweetest kiss they ever shared.

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It was Sunday morning and Father Daniel Tremblay was carefully lighting the candles that lined the stage. He wore a black suit; something that every Catholic priest usually displayed. He looked typical of his position. His piercing grey eyes were wide open, not in fear, but in wonder. It was with those eyes that he convinced the Christian audience of anything and everything written in the Holy Bible. However, the passion in those eyes did not only burn with the flames of his faith.

A black haired woman sat on the far left of the first row of wooden pews. Her head bowed, her hands clasped together, eyes shut. She was silently praying. In fact, she was so silent that Father Tremblay did not even notice her presence until he finished lighting the candles. “Oh! I’m so sorry, miss. I didn’t see you there. Is there something you need to discuss with me? Something you need to confess?”

The woman raised her head and opened her eyes. “No thank you, Father. This is between myself and God.”

“I understand,” he replied, “If there’s anything you need to talk about, I’ll be here.” He smiled and touched her shoulder, then he wandered up to the podium where he looked over the passages he would preach later that day. Soon, he found himself watching her pray. He realized he’d never seen her at this church before, and he was curious, desiring to know every morsel of information he could suck out of her. He watched as she sat there, so still, never flattening her wrinkled green dress. Her ebony hair flowed down, smooth and straight, it was past her elbows. She was pure and perfect. Father Tremblay felt urges he’d never felt before. He knew what he had to do, but he would wait until her session with the Lord was over. And so he waited.

Minutes passed before the dark haired beauty leapt from her lonely wooden seat and prepared to leave the House of God. “Miss!” the Father called.

The woman turned to him, silent as the dead.

“I... I thought I’d introduce myself.”

“There’s no need. I already know who you are.”

“Forgive me, miss. I don’t recall ever telling you my name, or seeing you at this church before.”

She nodded, “My name is Evelyn Wright and this is my first time at church in many years.”

“What brought you back?”

“My father passed on last year. I believe you knew him?”

Father Tremblay thought for a moment and vaguely remembered delivering a service for a skinny elderly man by the name of Alistair Wright. “I remember. He was a wonderful man.”

Evelyn nodded. “My father was a big influence on my life, and now that he’s gone, I just...” she trailed off and stared down at the ground, trying to hide her tears.

Father Tremblay put one hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “From what I’ve learned, nothing heals the soul like the grace of our Lord.”

She smiled. “Thank you...” she whispered and walked off into the blinding sun that flooded the room.

The priest blushed. He knew it was love at last and couldn’t wait to see her again.