POSTED 10/09/2018 12:37
So you sat there deliberating, your mind in splits and your thoughts in a million particles. You tried so hard to get a grip on the situation, tried to refuse him. But his proposition hung beautifully in the air like an apple, and the more you tried to think of something else, the more his proposition glinted.
You should say no. You’re the child of a priest. You put on some bravado, looked him in the eye, but your wobbling legs and vibrating hands spoke loudest.
Then you knew:
You knew when he first arrived that you should have left. You knew you should not have stayed to debate his proposition. He smiled at you. Your heart seemed to shrink into flakes. And you knew you would fail God.
And when he asked for just a kiss, you allowed his lips to slightly touch yours. Your chest ached with the pounding of your heart within.
It’s just a kiss, you said. I would ask God’s forgiveness.
But he never said he was done yet.
He knew the spots, knew the lines. So you let his fingers slither around this new playground – your body. And when his fingers had ‘merry gone-round’ your body just once, you were just an automaton, with pleasure splashed in red on your face. You couldn’t even breathe. All thoughts of God, Heaven and Hell, your father in ceremonial robes, had ‘obliviated’.
So you cared less when he dove under your pink satin dress, when you felt his teeth on your panties. Then came the feel of wet hotness, and all you could do was squeal. You were there, at those icy peaks where fire raged and grew into pain so sweet, it’s like would never be found.
All you thought of was him, as he pinched and kneaded your body with expertise. You knew not how your dress was gone, or rather you cared not. The feel of his hot breath on your face, the drops of his sweat you licked whenever they dropped on your lips, and the way he handled himself inside you made your brain melt to nothing. The pleasure was incomprehensible. Soon you were screaming his name.
Then from the heights of ecstasy, you seemed to hear little sounds. Then you felt them, frantic slaps on your face. You opened your eyes to see him dressing hurriedly. Sweat stung your eyes so much you had to blink more than once. You wanted to ask him, why he hurried. You sought to beg him to finish the ascent into the heavens. But at that moment you knew why he acted that way. The knocks were so heavy, so loud. The door shook and the pictures on the wall vibrated.
Your heart bloated by fear burst into a hard frantic beating. You both had been caught. Whose ears would not tingle, whose eyes would not bleed on seeing a priest’s daughter and a catechist having an unholy communion in the vestry?
Just when you thought of running to hide beneath the rows of choir robes lining the wall, the catechist burst into hot tongues. The authority with which he spoke them, the way lines formed around his eyes as he squeezed them, amazed you. Then you got the message, the knocks were subsiding.
You would never know what made you do it. But a minute after you joined him in rolling tongues from your mouth, you felt the air go so dry the vacant space sucked out your soul to fill it.
You see your naked body lying close to the catechist’s. There are strips of your pink dress scattered on the floor. Something tells you, you have more to fear than what people would say if they saw you both like this.
You look around and you want to scream. The world is different. But you have no guide to tell you that the dead do not see same as the living. In your ears words ring and they make you shudder in horror the likes you have never known. God cannot be mocked.
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