Father Dylan's Sins

Father Dylan's Sins (CLOSED)

The church was quiet this time of night in the middle of the week. The only sound Father Dylan heard was the soft hum of the air conditioning and the buzzing of the lights inside the chandeliers. He sat alone in a pew one third of the way back from the dais. The church was dim, and smelled like cleaning products. He crossed himself once and looked up at the towering white crucifix at the front of the altar. Christ himself gazed down on him with vacant and hollow eyes, tortured and wounded. Father Dylan felt a pang of guilt rise up in his chest and settle in his throat as he looked into those eyes. He knew that the Son of God could see inside his every thought. He knew that the thoughts he'd been thinking this evening were unbecoming of a man who had taken the vows he had taken.

Father Dylan listened to the stillness. He silently asked for forgiveness and made a mental note to attend confession the following day. His soul felt better, lighter. But his flesh still craved...

What was it that he craved?

He caught a glimpse of the marble hip of the Virgin under her perfectly carved robe and felt a jolt.

Blasphemy! He thought to himself.

He quickly stood up and turned his back to the dais, walking out of the sanctuary and turning off the light as he went out.

The air of the cool night touched her bare skin with a pleasant bite. The stars danced dimly above her, their glimmer fighting through the smog of the city around her. Each glinted majestically and she stopped for a moment to stare up at them in awe. Her soft green eyes had trouble parting with their beauty, that is until she heard the faint click of the grand Church's heavy door. She allowed her curiosity to get the best of her, and her gaze to fall upon a very troubled looking holy man as he escaped the place of worship.
The gentle breeze carried a chill and sent her long amethyst curls tumbling down her back. The ring in her nose caught the light slightly, as her soft plum lips curled into a smile. The knee high, twenty eyelit, black leather boots which bound the lower portion of her legs made no sound despite their four inch rubber heels as she continued her meandering stroll down the dampened sidewalk. Try as she might, her gaze could not leave this man, whose expression of pure discomfort did not change. The way the light caught his face tore at her. She wanted to offer him a warm smile and a cup of tea from a favored coffee shop just up on the corner.
She stopped herself from approaching him. No man of the church would ever allow themselves to be seen in the company of the likes of her, with her neon blue tights and her flared tutu skirt that may have rested just a little too high on her thighs. Her body was moderately curvy, with small but noticeably perky B sized breasts. Her midnight purple vest stopped just above her navel, and her neck tie's end rested flush against the waistband of her skirt.
No... Her appearance alone was enough to turn away the more conservative worshippers.
(Sorry for typos)

The cold air surprised him.

The girl surprised him further.

Really? He thought to himself, trying his best to compose his more ravenous desires. He shivered, wishing that he'd gotten his coat out of his office before he'd left.

Well, there was no use in ignoring the girl. What if she was lost, in need of guidance? Perhaps this was God's way of testing him, throwing a woman in his path who he could finally see as a deeply spiritual being, and not a lingering and boiling temptation whispering into the darker parts of his brain.

He offered the girl a smile, feigning warmth, trying to look into her eyes but instead focusing on her lips. He wondered what those lips would look like if...

No!

Resist!

"Good evening," he said in a slightly shaken voice.

"I wish one to you as well." Her voice was soft, and warm. She kept her distance from the man and stood under the nearest street lamp that he himself did not inhabit.
The long lace sleeves that covered her arms let in just enough chill to keep her aware after her long day at work. The large black bag held a comforting weight on her shoulder. Noticing his chill she took pity on him and started to rummage through the purse. "Do you have a coat?" She asked with a concern that the average stranger would not have. Then she produced from the dark depths of the black hole on her shoulder, a long utterly plain, but extremely warm looking scarf.
She threw caution to the wind and approached this man, entrusting in the holiness he stood for and stopped her stride only a few feet from him. The light musk of her perfume danced around them, lemons and lavender. "I could spare this if you have nothing?"
Her green eyes met his, which were focused on something else, and reflected the street lamp's glow in their innocence.

Those eyes glistened with the innocence of the Virgin herself. Father Dylan caught his breath as he thought of the two of them superimposed, as he thought of soft, innocent flesh and the way it would feel under his hand.

He focused all of his willpower on the image of Christ's cross and those vacant and mournful eyes in the darkness of the church.

"Oh no," he said, looking at her with Irish eyes as azure as heaven itself. "I've a coat in the church. I just managed to come out without it." He hoped that his improvised buffoonery would detract from the heat radiating from his deep lust. "What are you doing out on a night as cold as this? Are you headed somewhere?"

She looked up at him, she standing only at 5'5". Her long curls danced lightly in the breeze and a gentle smile again touched her lips as she returned to scarf to her bag. When her eyes met his again, she noticed the beauty in his. It was unlike any she had seen, purity with a hidden layer or fire, a mischief she knew better than to invoke.
"I'm taking a nice, long walk home from work." When the word work danced from her lips, images of the crying children and parents that refused to try to understand them flashed through her mind. She was in her late twenties and held a job as a youth worker for the state. She hated many parts of her job, but loved the children.
"The cold air keeps me up, alert... Wired." She smirked softly and moved a stray lock from her eyes. A small dimple showed predominantly just above the right corner of her mouth.
Her pearly teeth clutched the very inner edge of her purple bottom lip. Her pale skin glowed softly under the dim light, so comforting, so warm.

She took a slight step back and crossed her arms just under her petite breasts, pushing them up slightly, giving a peek of her cleavage from behind the skewed tie. She had no intentions other than finding a comfortable stance. "Where is it you're headed?" She asked sweetly, with a genuine puzzled tone. Maybe he would accompany her to the coffee shop any way. It was only 10:30, and a warm beverage would help a considerabl amount.