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A short story of a young woman who meets a young priest in the Italian countryside. Contains mature themes.
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I met him in the summer of '98. By this point, I'd been almost halfway through my twenties. I had nothing. My mother had died during my birth, and my father killed himself a couple of weeks after her. I was the opposite of what you call a 'beacon of hope'. I had no family that wanted anything to do with me; in their eyes, I was the spawn of satan, so naturally, I was placed in a catholic orphanage.
I never hoped of getting adopted after I was five. It was like I was cursed; after countless attempts of puppy eyes, it stopped almost working, and I accepted the nuns as the mothers I never had. And how I loved them, and my scared faith by association was the only reason I didn't go out like my father. When I turned eighteen, they asked if I wanted to become a nun. I had nothing going for me, a considerate lack of friends, ambition, and skills, so it was my first choice, but I chickened out. The sisters understood; they told me the church was going nowhere, and whenever I was ready, God would always be there with open arms. I still lived in the church, they kept me clothed and fed in a position without much of a name, the kids called me 'the nun without a habit'.
Here I was, twenty-two with nothing. I know everyone felt pity for me, so when one of the girls at the orphanage who knew exactly what she wanted from life, had the opportunity to serve god at a convent in Rome, the sisters made me her escort, the convent located right by one of the most beautiful cathedral's I'd ever seen.
It felt like the countryside, but it was right in the city, surrounded by creeks, blossoming flowers, and forests that I was told not to enter for fear of getting lost. The cathedral was what I believe to be Gothic architecture, so tall that it almost reached the heavens. As soon as I got here, it felt like home, the sisters welcomed us with open arms, and the clergy did too, though I spent most of my time around the cathedral exploring the grounds.
"You wouldn't want to pick at those." Iย jumped slightly as the shadow of a person crept up on me. I messed with my Walkman as I fumbled to turn it off.
"Sorry." My voice was squeaky, and I cleared my throat, looking twice at the man I hadn't seen before.
He was nowhere near as old as the others here, a few years older than me, give or take, but God, from the moment I saw him, my heart pounded. So handsome it was almost offensive, with tanned skin and gentle curls in his hair that couldn't decide on a shade, as he shifted in and out of the potent light in the sky; his locs changed from brown to black and back again. His Eyes of a green as fresh as the mint on his gentle breath. A few beauty marks were scattered across his face, which were so perfect they almost looked fake. He was tall but not ridiculously so, just slightly taller than me, but I've always been tall for a girl. I observed his clothes quickly as I dared not make my eyes linger on him any longer. He wore trousers of a forest green alongside a printed button-up that I hardly paid attention to. I automatically assumed he was just visiting, like I was, as the groundskeepers wore uniforms.
"Uh, Iโ" I took a moment to gather myself. "I like the way they look," I uttered.
"God's most beautiful gifts are often most poisonous," he held my wrist as he moved my hand from the plant with gentle intention and a touch just as gentle. "Don't be tempted," I felt that lump in my throat. "We don't often get visitors who aren't members of the church, wanted to put a name to the face of the person that had been lingering around the grounds for the past few days," I smiled for a moment before I realised it was my cue.
"Oh-Lily. My name is Lily." He grinned. Keeping eye contact with him was like staring into the sun, but he didn't know it, not yet. He dipped his head slightly, acknowledging me. So he did work here. A chef, maybe?
"Ciano," He responded. Only now his accent, though only light, rang in my ears. He checked his watch before looking up at the cathedral. Contorting his mouth as if he'd done something stupid. "I'll see you around?" he asked as if he was expecting an answer whilst he jogged off. I stared rather intensely as he did. I turned back round to the flowers as he turned to face by direction as he jogged backwards. He was looking at me, but if I turned back around now, it'd be awkward because I turned around as if I was doing something I shouldn't have been doing. But then again, he'd already seen me. My line of thinking was visually represented by my body in a state of slight twitching as I finally made the move to turn around, I saw his furrowed brow turn smile as he waved at me for a moment before getting on. His short curlsย bounced as he rushed back into the cathedral.
As I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, I realised I had so many questions for him that went unanswered. I shook my head, pulling myself out of it as I turned to face the plants again, walking alongside the shrubbery, my mind focusing on nothing but Ciano.
I almost jumped again as the large bell that resided at the top of the cathedral rang out, calling those willing to an afternoon prayer.
The week had passed, and now I stood in line waiting for communion. I always hated communion. I hated the taste of the wafers, and wine always tasted like vinegar to me. As I held my palms together, bowing as I was next in line, as I lifted my head up, the familiar face of the priest struck me. Ciano bowed his head to me as he retrieved the wafer from the chalice, a look etched onto his face that he was good at keeping ambiguous.
I'd spent all week learning the secrets of these grounds, forgetting about life and enjoying the beauty of life. We crossed paths so often, talking so much about nothing, that it was impressive. It became almost a routine to meet him by the gardens at five, but never once did he appear in a cassock until now. He cleared his throat slightly, holding the wafer above my tongue. He lowered it before remembering his job.
"Uh, the- Corpus Christi," he managed before dropping the wafer, his hand quaking for a moment before disappearing.
"Amen," I uttered, refusing to look at him as I moved to the priest who held the wine. I don't know why I was so mad. I felt lied to, but could it even be a lie if I never asked? Maybe I did know, really, but I just pretended I didn't. So I could feel...special. As if he wasn't just being kind because God willed him to. I felt like the charity case I've always been once more. As I sipped the gross drink instead of going back to the pews, I walked down the aisle and, with discretion, out of the chapel, my heart pounding wildly.
I lay in the guest bedroom of the convent I've been staying in, not on the bed, but on the floor. I'd locked myself in the room since mass, nobody bothered me. I kind of wish they did, but then again, what would I say? I find myself with illicit desires for a priest?
It sounded bad in my head; imagine how much worse it'd sound aloud. I couldn't go to confession, what if it was him on the other side? As soon as I acknowledged these thoughts existed, I felt more unclean than ever, as my mind ran wildly over him, and every single thing he had that I needed him to bless me with. I shook my head, staring up at the ceiling as I shifted on the squeaky wooden flooring that was wholly uncomfortable to lean on. My head perked up as there was a knock at my door. I took my time to stand as I figured it was a sister offering me dinner, to which I would say no, but fall prey as they told me the menu.
As soon as I unlocked the door that bound me, I shut it once more without the lock this time, finding the spot on the floor I had warmed once again.
"Lily." I heard as the door creaked open the slightest bit. I clasped my hands on top of my belly, staring up at the ceiling.
"Go away." I heard the door shut again, but this time he was on the inside. I scrambled to sit up and lean against the bed. "You're like a Jehovah's Witness," He scoffed. I almost smiled as I drew my knees to my chest.
"I didn't lie, you know." He groaned as he sat beside me.
"You didn't tell me the truth." I didn't have enough energy to hold his eye contact, so I avoided his gaze.
"You didn't ask me for the truth," I paused. "I've thought of you as a very good friend over the past week. I didn't want your judgment of me to be skewed by my position in the church." I tutted.
"Sorry for my language, Father, but frankly that's bullshit," he raised his eyebrows. "You can't just assume shit. If you cared to ask I was raised by nuns, I wouldn't have given a shit if you had told me you were a priest-" lie "-I just wanted to know you," he sat in silence. I stole a glance for a moment, but he'd caught me. Even in my dark room, his eyes were so radiant, fresh. He held his hand out in front of me, I looked at it with a furrowed brow.
"I'm Luciano Conti, a servant of God via the roman catholic church, piacere di conoscerti," I smiled, shaking his soft hand.
"I'm Lilith Holloway, an orphan. Fantastic to meet you too," he face contorted with a mix of concern and pity. I saw the priest in him now. "Yes, my parents were catholic, no, Lilith wasn't exactly at the top of their baby name list. Somebody's wife dying during what's meant to be the happiest moment of their lives doesn't make them the kindest person on earth,"
I took a moment, grabbing at the neckband of my shirt. His eyes widened as he saw it. The corner of a rather faint but still entirely visible scar in the shape of a cross. "I made it out of the hospital room, my mother didn't, so he branded me a demon and carved a cross into me, then, naturally, he killed himself" I opened the wounds I thought had healed years ago in front of him. "Which is kind of shitty when you think about it," my voice did that wobbly thing.
"You hold so much strength." He held my hand up, which still lingered within the grasp of his, placing his lips on the back of my hand, though with healing intention, made my lungs expel all of their air. His lips lingered. His closed eyes opened up as he looked up my arm into my eyes. He left one entirely unprofessional kiss that inched slightly up to my wrist before letting go. My hand still buzzed with electricity now coursing through my veins.
He cleared his throat. "God doesn't -" he took a break. "God doesn't give his children more than they can bear," I hummed as I stared at him now intensely, the bedroom filling with this awkward tension. He hauled himself off the ground, I found myself staring at the spot in which he had been sitting as he stood by the door now.
"I don't think you think that's true." he shook his head, running his hand through his hair, brushing it back. I looked away again.
"I think it's best that you and I just-" He didn't finish his sentence before he left. I buried my head in my arms as I sighed deeply.
His smile disappeared when he saw me. I adjusted my headphones when I called out for him as he walked down the same path. He tried to walk past me, but I stepped in his way. I was bewildered as he tried to continue. I pressed my hand into his chest, physically forcing him to stop.
"What are you doing?" he uttered, looking around. There wasn't a single person on this path but us, though he looked around like there were hundreds.
"Why are you mad at me?" I asked. His always confident eye contact was sparse as his face was close to mine.
"I'm not mad at you. I need to prepare for a sermon tomorrow" He tried to go again.
"Tomorrow's a long time away, walk with me in the garden," I put forth my best hand at trying to convince him.
"I said I don't think it's best I spend much time with you anymore." I took a step back, crossing my arms.
"Well, no, you didn't, because you ran away without finishing your sentence." He walked ahead. I turned around to watch him. "I'm starting to get really sick of people running away from things instead of facing their fucking problems, reverend," he stopped, storming back to me with his bible tightly gripped in his hand.
"Since I was a boy, I knew what I wanted from life, what I wanted to give. I made a promise to god that I'd be one of his vessels on earth, but I am just a man. I have to make the decisions of my life; I have to use my self-control, and it's hard enough. I'm going to go and I'm not going to talk to you again," My eyes widened as he walked off again. Did he just tell me he was trying not to fuck me?
I banged on the window repeatedly, waiting to hear or see at least something. Not the something I saw. I covered my eyes and hissed as the flashlight was shone deeply into my eyes. The window opened quickly. "Che cazzo!" he whispered-shouted as he watched me embarrass myself rolling into the room through the window. I landed on my feet, standing straight up, directly parallel to him, though breathing a lot heavier than the angry man with the flashlight. I straightened out my clothes as he only stared at me.
"Do you have- alcohol?" My pitch heightened as I tried to lighten the mood. I couldn't hint at anything on his face, and it was starting to scare me now. I didn't expect him to open the window right away. I mean, it was midnight. Actually, I'm not quite sure what I expected, but I know I didn't think this far. I was kind of just pissed off, though I've never really had to do the whole confrontation thing. All I knew was that I needed to say something to him at the very least before I leave the rectory. "I mean, you have to have wine,"
He backed me into the window, and I almost fell at the sill, but was forced by my body into a seated position. My heart raced, my breath got caught in my throat as he leaned over me, not a millimetre of room for the lord.
'Beautiful gift," I made out his mutterings as his warm breath pattered against my neck. His hands and their strong grip dug into my sides. His hold was one of noticeable internal turmoil. My heart skipped beat after beat in desperate anticipation. I couldn't let him do it, but I could smell it on him; It was on his skin, the lust he wished to put forth on me. I couldn't let him, but I had to. It was too late now, and like everyone else I've known, I'd convinced him to come down to my level. I knew for a fact neither of us had done this before, but humans have existed and survived for so long, depending on who you're talking to, that I don't think it could be that hard to figure out.
He took his sweet time as he pressed his lips onto my neck. My lungs were void of a short-lasting relief as my greed took over, and I craved for more. His soft kisses turned into something fueled by hunger. I pressed my back into the window as I felt his body even closer to mine than ever. His teeth grazed against the same spot right there on my neck in his primal state. I didn't know what he did to me, but if he did this for hours, I wouldn't be able to think of anything better.
His right hand moved beneath my thigh, dissatisfied with my long skirt, my breathing erratic as he gripped my bare thigh with his warm hand. He lifted his head now, his nose bumping against mine. I held his face in my hands, relying on his grasp for my support. Our noses bumped again as I tried to figure out how to kiss him desperately. He tilted his head to the side, letting gravity place his lips on top of mine. My first kiss. It was tender, the most cared for I've felt. Ever. My eyes fluttered open to see the comforting eyes of the enlightened man. The lights in his eyes sparkled with warm.
"Don't be stupid," I spoke breathlessly to him. He silenced me with another kiss, without consideration for the fine details of before, but still so perfect. He'd ignored me; he didn't think at all, or so I thought. He didn't say a word as he moved me swiftly from the windowsill to the gentle cushion of his bed. The beds in the rectory were a lot less creaky than in the convent. I paid more attention to the matching gold bracelets on both his wrists, now more than ever, as his hands moved to the waistband of my skirt, pulling it down over my hips alongside the awkward flip-flops I had dug out of my suitcase for the journey here. He went to do it, but for efficiency; I grabbed the corners of my tank top, pulling it over my head. I felt so bare, though my underwear was still on my body I reached for the buttons on his nightwear, but he stopped me, pulling it over his head on his lonesome, holding my arms by my sides.
My chest caved and rose dramatically as that's where his kisses first landed. His lips and tongue trailed down my torso, taking their sweet time. My body was so sensitive to his touch; goosebumps rose at any moment they could. His kisses reached a certain point before they stopped, and his tongue brought him back to my chest, where they didn't stop. His lips met mine once more, his tongue embracing mine with each kiss.
I couldn't help but gasp when I felt his hand grab so far up my inner thigh, instinctively trapping his hand between my legs. My hand found his own, and I convinced my body to relax a leg. His hand momentarily grasped mine. His hand found the place it meant to be all along, he must've watched my lips part as he crashed down onto mine again with his animalistic ferocity. He'd taken a moment to adjust his pants, my breath catching right in my throat as my eyes fixed on the dangerous curved line that created a pathway to a man's groin.
I'd felt the hunger as intensely as he did. The seconds it took for me to pull my bottoms away from my body felt like decades, he helped me adjust my body, which for now belonged to him, on the bed.
The shameful desperation I had to feel something inflicted by him the moment I laid eyes on him was fulfilled, right there. Even with him inside of me, I craved for him to me closer. I wished the pressure of his hands on my hips right then would leave dents in me to remember this moment by. I had to hush the uncontrollable sounds that slipped past my lips by biting hard down on his pillows. Every few moments, I'd turn his head from the crook of my neck, where he suppressed his gentle grunts, back to my lips to make sure he was truly there. My nails left sharp scratches on his back, and his teeth left marks all over my shoulders, chest and neck. It felt as though our sweating mess fogged the entire room with the heat of raw passion, our sins intertwined with one another to create a forbidden cocktail.
I never knew a pleasure like this was something true, only something found in myths, but as each moment passed, it became more and more believable. My back arched, he slowed, and I stopped running my hands through his frizzy gripping it tightly instead. It was like a buildup to something; I didn't know what yet, I just knew I wanted- needed it far more than anything except him. I pulled him closer as I turned my head away from him. But he turned me back. For once ever, I matched his intense eyes with my own. My bra felt completely void at this point as he gripped at my breasts, I loved it. I wanted him to touch me everywhere he could. I held his hands with my own to make his grip tighter.
"Fuck," I murmured. I think I saw heaven, but I wasn't there long enough to know for sure, but I do know it was almost inexpressible ecstasy at his hands. At this moment, I felt him inside of me, this warm feeling I couldn't give a name to, though I knew what it was, I didn't care. But he buckled, calling out the Lord's name as he did so. I let out a single loud laugh at the irony I now realised, each movement I made, I was too sensitive to take. He covered my mouth after I did. The exhausted hint of laughter I saw and heard from him defied the darkness of this room. He peppered gentle kisses on my lips, next after next after next, without rest as his breath staggered.
