I slept with my Father...
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It was a warm summer night in New Orleans, I visited the Cathedral to see Father Pierre as I always do. No, I am not a religious person, but I do consider myself to be spiritual and Pierre struck up a friendship years ago when I moved to the Crescent City. I use to walk through the French Quarter like a zombie, the same time of day, every day, until we caught eyes, then greeted one another with a smile, that preceded to a wave, and then finally a hello.
Small chit chat daily made me see past the priesthood uniform as I stared into his eyes when he talked, it made me feel safe.
Well, if you ever wanted a place to sit and meditate, you are always welcome here. Pierre gestured for me to follow him into the Cathedral, so I did. Once inside I felt like I was in a castle, people from every walk of life crowding in the gift shop as if they are awaiting to meet the King. Then the pillars a lined in the sanctuary facing a mural to represent Heaven as the alters held potpourri filled aromas that scented holy water, which was contaminated from everyone dipping their fingers into it before making the sign of the cross starting with their forehead, chest, and then shoulder to shoulder.
One day the sermon was over and all the patrons had left, it was just me and Pierre. He asked me if I knew how to pray. Laughing out loud, I smartly replied, Yes! You just talk to yourself. He smiled and kneeled me down in front of the altar as if he was going to ask for my hand in marriage. Then the told me to get on my knees too. As I did he hovered behind me, with my body in between his thighs, he took my hands, placed them together and said aloud yet softly, "This is how you do it."
I don't know if it was the soothing of his breath, the arousal of my affection for him, or just tried of being alone, but I softly turned towards him, while keeping eye contact and then kissed him.
Lightly wetting his lips with the tip of my tongue, he returned the kiss....
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