THE PRIEST

My name is Erin O'Hanlon. In high school I dated a guy named Joshua McGrath. He was my heart throb. He walked me to class and we held hands; at night we talked until my mom made me hang up the phone. We dated from my sophomore year through graduation.

Senior year, our relationship began to get sexual, but nothing below the waist. I let him enjoy my breasts as often as wanted; his hands, and his mouth. I was ready to give him more as a graduation present. When I say more, ya' know what I mean, right?

I thought for sure that a few years after high school, we'd get married. I had it all planned.

I was devastated when Joshua explained his plans to me. "Erin, I'm going in the seminary. I'm going to be a priest." Of course, that was the end of our relationship.

I was angry. Angry at him for ruining my plans and ruining my life.

To get even with him, I fucked my way through college. Well, not just fucked, although I proudly did the whole basketball team and a few assistant coaches. There were rumors that I was the blowjob queen of the campus. Those weren't just rumors.

I never got over Joshua. After college I got married, got pregnant, got divorced. In that order.

A few years after that, I got pregnant, married, divorced. In that order.

I wasn't very good about choosing men. I got married and divorced twice more. It was like I thought I'd found the perfect guy until I married him. Those last two marriages lasted less than a year each. On the flight back from Las Vegas after my third wedding, I realized I'd made another mistake.

I made sure there'd be no more kids, but that didn't mean I was going to forgo sex. Oh, no. I loved sex. I loved getting fucked; loved giving blowjobs, and at least for a night I could fall in love with a guy who could make my pussy cum with his tongue.

I went through a lot of guys. Or you might say a lot of guys went through me. When I was in my late thirties I overheard some women in the ladies room say that my pussy was like the George Washington Bridge at rush hour. Lots and lots of traffic.

After that fourth disastrous marriage, I vowed that I wouldn't get serious about any guy. I did, however, keep dating and kept fucking and sucking.

Once I turned forty-five, I'd had enough. No more dating, and no more sex. I'd had enough of men.

Ironically, I'd done well in my career. I started out as an intern for a large brokerage firm, but developed a knack for picking stocks. My first boss recognized my talent, and I was promoted to broker.

He also found that I had some talent in bed. I knew he was married, but . . .

When he dumped me to go back to his wife, I left the firm and went to another one where, not to brag, I became a superstar at picking stocks, and made millions of dollars for the company, and hundreds of thousands annually for myself.

The kids were grown, and I guess you might say my unmarried daughter got my genes. She wasn't married and I was a grandmother.

One day my secretary, MaryAnn, told me that there was a Joshua McGrath on the phone asking for me.

My heart skipped a beat. If I was honest with myself, I'd admit that I'd never gotten over him. It had been almost thirty years since high school and I hadn't gotten over him.

"Can you check, is it Father Joshua McGrath?"

"You mean like a priest, Father?"

"Yes."

"He says he used to be Father McGrath."

"Mary Ann, put him through."

"Father McGrath, it's been ages. What did I do to deserve this honor?"

"Erin, last week I resigned from the priesthood. It's just Joshua."

"Ummmm, Father, I don't know what that has to do with me." I wasn't trying to be coy.

"Erin, I don't even know how to ask a girl for a date."

"First, Father, I'm not a girl, I'm a woman and I stopped dating a few years ago."

"I see." I could hear the disappointment in his voice.

"But Father, I'd gladly meet an old friend for coffee."

He seemed elated. I was, too.

Once I hung up, I panicked. What was I going to tell him, ‘Father, your old high school sweetheart has two kids, one out of wedlock, and most people would describe her as a slut.'

Probably not.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned?" Nah!!!

I had no idea what to tell him, but what about him? I hadn't been to church in ages, but I didn't think that priests left the church. Why? Could they even do that?

Once I got home, the next question was what to wear. This was a priest, Father McGrath. I couldn't dress like I was going to a club on a Friday night, which I hadn't done in a few years.

I decided on business casual. Blazer, loose blouse, buttoned to the top; skirt, not too tight, and not too short, and sensible heels.

At the coffee shop, I was still expecting to see Father McGrath wearing a collar. Instead he was wearing jeans and a tee shirt. I recognized him right away; I thought he looked great. Tall, tanned, greying. I was, too, greying that is, but as the saying goes, only my hairdresser knows.

He stood up like we were going to exchange hugs. I was pleased he recognized me. After all it had been almost thirty years. I was no longer the fresh faced, 110 lb. hot babe he once knew. Not that I'd gained a lot of weight. It was just that after two kids . . . well, you know what I mean.

I held out my hand. No, there would be no hugging. Did Father McGrath think that we'd just start up where we left off, just before high school graduation?

It was awkward for a moment, but we did shake hands.

Although, he reminded me a few times that it was just Joshua, I called him Father McGrath. I kind of spat it out. One, because over the years when his name came up, it was always Father McGrath, and two, to let him know that I was still angry with him for leaving me like he did. Especially now that those priestly vows turned out to be just a temporary commitment.

"So, Father McGrath, what happened?"

"Erin, a year ago, I requested an audience with the Archbishop. I told him, "Your Grace, I can no longer, in good conscience, adhere to my vow of celibacy."

"Father, you haven't?"

"No, no, but I have lusted in my heart, and for me, for any priest, that's the same thing."

It didn't occur to me at the time that Father McGrath was lusting about me in his heart.

"Just like that, the Archbishop let you go?"

"Oh no. There are places in a seminary, and other church owned facilities where a priest like me can contemplate his commitment to the church."

"You spent a year in one of these places?"

"Yes, Erin. It was a year of penance; a year of solitude; a year of silence."

"You mean you didn't talk to anyone for a year?"

"It was the perfect situation to contemplate my dedication to the priesthood."

"And after a year?"

"I had an audience with His Grace, and explained that I was not worthy of the priesthood and it was impossible for me to keep my vow of chastity, if only in my heart."

"Then he let you resign?"

"Yes, but Erin, what about you?"

"Father, I have two children, and I'm a grandmother."

"You're married?" He looked crestfallen; it was almost as if there were tears in his eyes. It's was then that I realized that when he said he'd lusted in his heart, he was lusting after me.

Back in my day, a girl who had as many lovers, one stand stands, sometimes one hour stands as I had, was called "easy."

Oh yeah, I'd been easy. But if Father McGrath thought it was going to be easy to start a relationship with me; any kind of relationship, he was wrong. I'd learned a lot of hard lessons in life. Not that I didn't want to, but I wasn't going to make it easy on him.

"No, Father. I'm not a very good Catholic. I'm divorced." I didn't go into details. I didn't say I was divorced four times.

"I see. So, you're free to see me?"

"Father, as I said on the phone. I'm not interested in dating anyone. A cup of coffee is fine, but a date, no."

"Erin, I'd like to see you for another cup of coffee."

"Sure, Father. How about right here, Friday 9 o'clock?"

"That would be grand."

I reached in my purse for my wallet to pay for the coffees. "No, let me," he said.

"Father, don't priests take a vow of poverty?"

"Yes, but . . ."

"It's okay, Father."

"I insist that next time that you allow me."

"Okay. I'll see you Friday." There was no handshake and definitely no good-bye hug.

When I returned to my office, "MaryAnn, I don't want to be disturbed for a while." I closed my office door and cried.

Father McGrath, Joshua, was my one true love. The man I would have chosen to spend my life with; a life that now, at least socially, if not financially, was a disaster.

Now, I cried because it was too late. A fifth marriage? That would be crazy, and why would anyone want to marry someone who'd failed at marriage four times?

It sounds crazy, but yes, I did want to be with Father McGrath, but he had to commit to something. What it was, I didn't know.

I wasn't willing to be just the woman with whom he officially broke his vow of celibacy, and then moved on.

On the other hand, marriage? See above.

Friday coffee: again he was there before me, and again stood up, and I swear he was expecting a hug. It wasn't going to happen, not from me.

"Erin, tell me about your children."

"Sandra lives with her boyfriend. I'm sure you disapprove Father, but that's how it is, and my grand-daughter, Aimee, is the love of my life. And my son . . ."

It then occurred to me, and it was something I never thought of, "my son, Josh, is in med school."

Yes, unconsciously I'd named my son Joshua. No, Father McGrath wasn't his father. My son's father and I didn't get married until six months after Josh was born, and like I every other marriage, that ended in divorce.

"It sounds like you've done a good job as a mother."

"Father McGrath, let me be blunt. What are your intentions? What do you want from me?"

"Erin, if you'll give me the chance, I want to marry you."

"What? Are you crazy? Father, when I said I was divorced, I was truthful, but that's not the whole story. I've been divorced four times. I'm a disaster as a wife."

For a minute, he didn't know what to say. "Erin, maybe you just haven't met the right man."

"Father, when I was a sophomore in high school, I met the right man, but he left me." I got up to leave.

"I'm sorry about that. It was, at the time, something I had to do. Erin, how can I make it up to you?"

"Sorry isn't enough, and definitely not by marrying me, that's for sure. I know how that ends. It always ends in heartbreak. Father, I have to get back to work." I could feel tears in my eyes.

I let him pay. "Erin, there's a new James Bond movie out. How about we take in a movie together tonight?"

"I saw the previews. I don't think it's your kind of movie, they're re-introducing the character Pussy Galore."

I know, that was uncalled for. I left. I didn't expect to hear from him again.

I'd no sooner got back to my office than MaryAnn buzzed me, "that priest Father McGrath is on the phone."

"Put him through."

"Erin, you didn't say no to my movie suggestion."

I had to laugh. "Father, you're very persistent."

"I spent two years doing missionary work. You learn not to take no for an answer."

"Okay, Father. What time's the movie?"

"8 o'clock."

"How about this? There's a little Italian restaurant right across the street from the theatre. I'll meet you there at 6:15. You can pay for the movie, I'll buy dinner."

"Thank you, Erin. Thanks for giving me a chance."

"Father, don't blow it. I've run out of patience with men."

I wore a pair of slacks and a baggy lumberjack type shirt. Those good size boobs that I let young Joshua McGrath enjoy when we were in high school, after two kids and age sagged a bit.

The baggy shirt hid them as best as I could. The slacks did nothing to emphasized my ass.

Our date went fine, and no the Bond movie did not reprise the character of Pussy Galore, nor did Father McGrath get any pussy after the show. He got a kiss good night; the kind of kiss you'd give an old friend.

I did ask: "By the way, where do you live? And what do you do?"

"The Church has what you might call a halfway house Uptown for wayward priests. I can stay there for six months. As for a job, I haven't really started looking yet, but I have years of experience in Social Work, and the Archbishop has given me a glowing recommendation."

And that's how the next month went: coffee once or twice a week, and dinners on the weekend. Those kisses got a little more romantic. By that I mean instead of on the cheek, I kissed him on the mouth; no tongues involved.

I decided it was time for more. Yes, I'd sworn off men, and sworn off sex, but being with Father McGrath made me re-think all that. I meant it when I told him that I'd met the perfect man in high school.

I didn't know what Father McGrath was thinking. He'd left the priesthood because there was lust in his heart. I know a little about men, if there's lust in his heart, there's lust in his pants.

When we were dating back in high school, I didn't think he was seeing anyone else, so when he left for the seminary, he was a virgin.

If he stayed true to his vows, and given why he left the priesthood, I thought it was fair to assume he was still a virgin.

What do I do with a forty-five year old virgin?

The men I'd married were crazy good in bed. That's why I married them. Sadly, that was their only redeeming quality.

Some of the other men I'd slept with were good lovers, others not so good and still others awful.

Here's the other thing. The men I'd married had above average cocks. That was a thing with me. Lovers, even good lovers with average or less than average cocks just didn't do it for me.

I didn't know what Father McGrath had. If you'll recall, I'd let him play with my tits in high school, but that's as far as we ever went. I'd never even tried to feel his cock through his pants, and he never encouraged me to go there. It was high school.

What was Father McGrath's like? How do I find out? What do I have to teach him? I feared everything.

It was time to find out.

"Erin, when will I see you again?"

"When do you want to see me?"

"As soon as possible."

"Tomorrow, the next day?"

"Okay, Saturday night come for dinner." I gave him my address. "6:30."

All day Saturday I thought about Father McGrath. Where was this going? I knew where I wanted it to go, but how fast or slow should I take it? Like I said, what do I do with a virgin? I don't think I'd ever slept with one.

I did go shopping. Not for a sexy negligee or something like that. I bought a man's razor, some shaving cream, a couple of toothbrushes, and a man's robe.

Yes, Father McGrath would be spending the night if I had my way.

If he was uncomfortable sleeping with me. I made sure that the guest room, and guest bathroom were clean.

I owned a three bedroom home in one of the nicer Westchester County suburbs. I bought it for a song four years ago, and I could make a 100% profit if I sold it, but I loved it. I had no intention of selling.

It was over one hundred years old, had three fireplaces, including one in my bedroom. My master bath had one of those huge tubs with feet. I luxuriated in it a few times a week.

I'd just finished in the kitchen when I saw his cab pull up. I really didn't cook. There was an amazing Italian deli down the street, that had meals that just needed to be heated up.

I'd actually just finished setting the table. I was dressed a little more sex tonight; as sexy as it gets for a woman my age.

Low cut tight blouse, that emphasized my boobs. Tight and very short skirt. I was wearing 3" heels tonight. Father McGrath was taller than me, with the heels we'd be just about the same height. I thought that would be perfect for our lips to meet.

I didn't know if he drank or not; maybe just communion wine. I'd poured myself a bourbon to calm my nerves. Yes, I was a little nervous. I'd never had to seduce a man, and by now you know, men didn't have to seduce me.

"Father, I'm so glad you could make it." I gave him a hug and kiss that said much more than friendship. He reciprocated.

"Your home is lovely. Thanks for inviting me."

"Would you like a drink while I show you around? I'm having bourbon, there's Chianti on the table, and white wine and beer in the frig."

"I'll have some bourbon, thanks."

We made small talk as I showed him around. Upstairs, I led him to the master bedroom. "Wow, your bed is so big."

"Father, I guess you're use to a single bed, but I need room to roll around." I had a sly smile on my face, and looked for his reaction.

He just looked; I hoped he was imagining the possibilities. I certainly was.

Downstairs, "let me refresh your glass; dinner's almost ready."

While we were finishing dinner, "Erin, please stop calling me Father. If we're going to go forward with our relationship, it seems so awkward."

"Do you want it to go forward, Joshua?" Yes, I tried.

"I do."

"What do you think that means?"

I saw him turn red. I-I don't know, you know this is all new to me."

"Come with me." I led him to my living room, where we sat down. I put my arms around him and kissed him on the mouth, this time I used my tongue."

Hesitantly, he reciprocated. I broke it off after a long minute. "Joshua, do you remember the last time we were like this?"

"I do. Your parents weren't home and we were in the family room . . ."

. . . "And, I had my blouse and bra off. Joshua, why don't we start where we left off?"

I unbuttoned my blouse. By design, I'd chosen a bra that clasped in front; I unhooked it. "Just like high school, Joshua, they're all yours."

In a moment the blouse and bra were on the floor.

TO BE CONTINUED