Firefighter's Virgin

“I saw you.” The look in his green eyes when he said that made me shudder. If he was coming on to me again…he was good. I felt my insides tingle and once again I had to put myself in check.

“I wish I could explain it,” he continued. “When I saw you, I had this uncontrollable urge to be with you. It’s something I haven’t felt in years, never since I’ve become a priest. I should have been able to control it, but since I also allowed myself to drink way too much alcohol, and although that is no excuse, it did lower my inhibitions way too much.”

God, I’m ridiculous. The butterflies were taking flight in my stomach, delighting in the fact that a priest of all people was telling me I created “an irresistible urge” inside of him. God, please help me.

“So what shall we do about this, Father Jace?” I was trying to sound professional but the feelings racing through me were touching places that they shouldn’t be and stirring up memories of our night together and the way he felt and tasted…and most especially the way he touched me.

“Maybe I should take this off,” he said, standing and unzipping the cassock. I watched as he pulled it off and then slipped off his collar. He laid them gently across the back of the couch and sat down. The cassock started to slip and I scooted over to catch it, realizing too late that it put me thigh to thigh with Jace.

He looked at me and said, “Now we can talk like just two people. I know this has to be hard for you. I’m so sorry I put you in this position, Daphne.”

“I just can’t understand it. I thought being a priest was a calling. Is it just a façade to you? A way to make people believe you’re this holy, pious man while you go on and live however you choose to when no one is looking?”

His eyes looked watery as he said, “No, Daphne, I swear. I have wanted to be a priest since I was a very young boy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. I love God, and I love the Catholic Church. I can’t imagine my life now without it. I’m here to find out how we can fix this. If my diocese finds out what I’ve done…I can lose everything. Do you plan to tell anyone, Daphne?”

I should…shouldn’t I? Maybe not. Maybe it’s as much between him and God as it is between me and him. As it was, I had no desire or intentions to tell anyone. “No, Jace, I’m not going to tell anyone.”

He reached for my hand, and I didn’t move it. The simple touch of our hands sent thrills racing through my body and caused me to have to concentrate on my breathing. His eyes locked on mine before suddenly his arms were around me, pulling me in against his hard chest and stirring deeper desires. His arms were hard too and strong. I didn’t know that priests worked out.

I tried to pull back. I was getting too excited and afraid of what I might do. He held tightly, though, and the only part of me I was able to pull back was my face. Our eyes locked again and then his dropped to my lips. It wasn’t a priestly look at all, and I knew he was going to kiss me.

I should pull away. I should fight it. I just couldn’t stop myself; I wanted it too badly. I craved the taste of his lips. He lowered his to mine and crushed against them in a passionate kiss. I let my lips part, and his tongue snaked in and found mine. We kissed until neither of us could breathe and then he let me go and abruptly stood up. My head was still spinning when he said,

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” He grabbed his cassock and collar, and I sat there in a state of shock as I watched him go. I wanted him to come talk so that I could try to understand how he’d broken his vows and why he’d done so with me…but I wanted him so badly that I was ready to lead him right back into temptation.

Chapter Eighteen

Jace

I woke up tangled in the sheets. I dreamt of Daphne that night — and every night for the past two weeks. I still couldn't believe that I had the strength to walk away from her. Maybe I was still filled with the Holy Spirit, after all.

I didn't feel as guilty about my dreams since I couldn’t control those if I tried. I’m hoping that the satisfaction of being with her for those six or eight hours every night would be enough to keep me on the straight and narrow throughout the day.

In my dreams, we make love. I can feel her sweet lips on my neck and along the line of my jaw. If I close my eyes, even when awake, I can feel that first thrust. I made myself open my eyes again, but the longing and the ache in my core were still there. It made me both frustrated and giddy at the same time. I closed my eyes again…one more time before I got up.

I revisit the dream, replaying the memory of how her nipples felt between my fingers and tasted between my lips. I felt myself growing hard, but I resisted touching; instead, I just lay there with the image of her in my mind, and it was sinful, blissful, torture.

I opened my eyes once more. My body was heavy with want and the hunger for her ran deep. Untangling myself from the sheets, I did what I’d done every day for the past two weeks. I headed for the shower, turned the water on cold, and climbed in. This was both a temporary cure for my body’s lustful responses and a punishment for allowing myself to dwell on it during my waking hours when I am supposed to have control. I couldn't help but wonder if she dreamt about me, too. Are we really together in our dreams?

I stepped out of the shower, and as I dried off, I tried to refocus my thoughts. I was having coffee with Lily that day. I figured it should be fun, catching up. Once again, my thoughts returned to Daphne and the way I felt about her. I had never felt that strongly for Lily, and she knew it. I loved her, but I was happy with it being a platonic kind of love. What I felt for Daphne couldn’t be classified as anything other than a pure, raging inferno of lust.

I dressed and drove to the coffee shop where I found Lily waiting for me. She looked really pretty in a pair of blue jeans and a sleeveless red blouse. I could tell that she must work out quite a bit to keep herself in shape.

It was actually something we used to do together, a million years ago. Weightlifting and running were my two biggest passions besides my faith growing up. The weightlifting was a stress reliever for me; it still is. I don’t do it because I’m worried about what my body looks like. I do it because of the way it makes me feel. I didn't run as often as I used to. It always worked to clear my head when I needed it back in the day.

When Lily saw me, she smiled and stood up. “Hello again; I was really glad you called,” she said.

“Me, too,” I told her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “I was surprised, but pleased to see you in church last week.” We sat down and ordered our coffees.

While we waited she said, “You used to talk about becoming a priest. I secretly hated it when you did that.” She smiled, but I’m sure she meant what she said.

“I’m sorry; I really am sorry for everything. I think by the time you broke up with me I had already made up my mind. But I didn’t know how to come right out and tell you, so I beat around the bush a lot.”

She smiled again. “I know, and now I understand. Back then, we were just so young. I was angry because it was unfathomable to me. The thought of promising yourself to the

church and never having a family…”

The waitress sat Lily’s coffee down in front of her and then mine. When she was gone, I said, “I always knew how important that was to you, having a family. Why haven’t you married? Are you still looking for Mr. Right?”