Boys. Boys are gross. They smell after P.E., they're rude for no reason, and they can't tell when you're trying to speak to them. I dislike them, but there's no denying the fact that I find a few attractive.
There's Jaden with his curls and his veiny hands. I want those hands wrapped around my neck. Damien with his long hair and his piercings. I wonder if he has piercings down there.
And then there's Reverend James Alexander.
I watched him during service. He was taller than me. So much so that I had to tilt my head to look him in the eye. I'd shaken his hand once when we first met. During that handshake, he brushed a bit of dirt off my cheek.
"You've been back in your garden, huh?"
The way he said those words lit a fire inside me. I felt a warmth in my cheeks and butterflies in my... stomach. Or maybe it wasn't my stomach, I don't know. I wanted him to touch me more. I wanted him to touch me in other places. Places that weren't supposed to be touched. Especially by someone who's twice my age, a leader in my church, and a man I had told so many secrets to.
I'd spent a lot of time thinking about the three of them using my body for their pleasure. I had touched myself to the thought of them. At night, I moaned their names, imagining they were above me. I thought I could handle myself, but I couldn't. I knew I had gone too far with my daydreaming.
I needed to come clean about this, and there was only one way to do it. On the way to the cathedral, I tried to purge their images from my head. God would want me to stay pure in mind, body, and soul. I prayed while I walked, begging forgiveness for my lust. I was better than this.
I'd come at the end of the day for a reason. No line meant no waiting. No waiting meant no crying. The first booth was closed, so I turned to the second. I knocked like I was taught, and the last voice I wanted to hear answered.
"Enter," he said. I groaned, took a deep breath, and went inside.
"You don't sound very apologetic, young lady."
I spoke through gritted teeth, "Good evening. Reverend."
I made the sign of the cross slowly, trying to calm myself. His voice drove me crazy.
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. This is my confession, and these are my sins."
"I've been consumed by lust, Father. I... I've been having these thoughts about some people. 3 people specifically. Um... you included. I don't know what's wrong with me. I- I keep having these thoughts about you all and I don't know how to stop them! I can't control this feeling and it's getting worse! I just- I need help. Father, these are my sins, I am sorry for them and the ones I've forgotten."
"Grace, sweetheart-"
"Don't call me that."
"Do not interrupt me again. Grace, you know how important purity is to the catholic church. You can try to stop these thoughts and feelings. Please forgive me, I know this is inappropriate, but you're going to have to... physically solve this problem-"
"Physically...? Oh my God, NO."
The door opened on his side of the booth. I pressed my back to the wall of the booth, hoping he wouldn't call my parents. The door opened on my end, and he grabbed my wrist.
"I told you not to interrupt me. During confession, when I'm trying to advise you on how to solve your... issue. That includes me, as you said. You imagine me doing things to you. You want me to touch you in ways that I shouldn't."
"Please-"
He started pulling me along behind him, taking me deeper into the church.
"Please don't call my parents! I didn't want to tell you about this, it was supposed to be Father Jacob! I- Please, reverend!" I kept begging the whole way there, bringing myself close to tears.
He put me on a stool behind his desk and sat on his chair. I looked down at my hands, praying for him to just let me go home. I didn't care about repenting for my sins anymore.
"Reverend..."
He held up his hand, "No. Tell me. What do you want me to do to you? What did you imagine?"
I hesitated, "What do you mean?"
He stood in front of me, hand on my cheek. My heart started racing.
"Tell me," he squeezed my face, "Tell me what you want."
I gasped at the sudden rush of... pleasure? I wanted his hands on me. I wanted more.
"More."
He laughed, squatting in front of me, "More of what, Grace?"
I couldn't breathe. It was suddenly hot in the room. I tried to pull him closer. He didn't move.
"Speak. Please, sweetheart, I can't make you feel good without you telling me what you want."
I took his hand and put it on my waist, "I don't know what to do."
"This is a start," he said, "but I'd rather begin here."
He put his hand under my shirt, tracing the wire of my bra with a finger. He put the other hand on my thigh. I squeezed my legs together, whimpering.
"I'm gonna show you several ways to make yourself feel good. I'm gonna make your head spin. I want you to feel so good that you can't take it. I want to break you, little girl."
"I want to ruin you for anyone else. Everyone else. Now get on your knees."
