Only On Sundays

one

I was never really religious. I listened to metal music and eventually took on a satanic tone. I always appreciated religion. It was the only thing that could unite thousand and tear apart millions. The only times I went to church was for weddings and funerals. My friend, Angelo, knew this, but still wanted me to go to church with him. I went a few times with him, It was a huge church for how small the audience was. It was in the middle of nowhere, a 10 mile distance to the next town, which was only a couple of houses, an abandoned general store, and a field. The whole area was surrounded by trees and mountains, sheltering it from the cities. I lived about on the edge of the country. This gave me an hour drive to the Christian church and a short walk to Angelo's.

Angelo was one of the only reasons I left my house. I worked from home as I financial advisor to an online business. I wasn't married, or even in a relationship, so I was alone when I was home. I had a cat when I first moved here, but she died a month in.

It was nice living so close to one of my high school friends. We would hang out almost every night, watching movies, trying new recipes together, even just laughing at stupid things on our phones.  A couple of months back, he killed himself.  I cried for days and day, leaving the house for his funeral and going to church.  A week later, I was doing better and went out for drinks.  A single hook up lead to two, then three, then four, then getting paid for it, and becoming the local prostitute.  After that I drowned myself between whoring around and church.  During the day, Monday through Saturday I was an accountant.  At night I was a whore.  Then on Sundays I was a good little church girl.  

I wasn't really a girl.  I wore dresses and booty shorts and had a habit of wearing excessive amounts of makeup.  My regular customers understood this and didn't mind the fact I had a dick.  All of them liked it to some extent.

I was late to church this morning, catching just the end of the Father Chris' speech.  He wasn't a typical priest to say the least.  He was young to start, 30 at the max.  The skin that peaked out from under his suit was all tattooed and pale.  He had long black hair, black painted nails and black tunnels in his ear lobes.  His voice was amazing, I swore that I heard it somewhere before I had met him, but I couldn't place it.  I could listen to him for hours.  It was always the same, he would talk about anything recent in the news and connect it to the bible.  When the ceremony ended he would find me as the other people left.  It was always the same conversation.  The basic 'how are you' and 'let me know if you ever want to talk'.  I felt like I could trust him on some level, but not to the point when I would ever truly confide in him like Angelo.

"Beautiful. Isn't it?" Father Chris said as he sat on the end of the pew I was laying on. He snapped me out of my train of thought quickly, making me feel guilty for thinking about him like that. I had been there for a couple of hours, having an existential crisis as I studied the beautifully painted ceiling.

"Yes, you are." I joked as I sat up and wiped the tears from my cheeks. I slumped into Father's side, to which he rested one of his rather large hands on my knee. This pushed the edge of my pencil skirt up slightly, but neither of us thought twice about it. He was more hands-on than the average priest, hugging people and kissing their heads after blessing them.

"What have you been thinking about?" He asked as he rested his head on top of mine. I kicked my stilettos around as they laid at my feet.

"Too much." I responded with a sniffle. I felt Father move to get something out of his pocket before he held it out for me to see. Between his tattooed fingers was a ripped piece of paper with my name and number on it, the type of business card I left behind after some of my hook ups.

"I can help you get it off your mind for a while." He offered as his hand slid up my thigh more. I lifted my head from his shoulder as I stared at him in shock for a moment. He raised his drawn on eyebrows at me, waiting for my response.