Biker's Virgin

Ryan laughed and said, “Well, in my defense…I was drunk.”

We all laughed at that. It was good to just laugh and joke with them and take my mind off of my troubles for a while. We ate our lunch and carried on light conversation, trading barbs and insults. For a while, it seemed like the old days and my soul seemed lighter than it had in a long time.

That was until Ryan leaned in and told Max, “Don’t look now, but three fine pieces of ass just walked in and sat down behind us.”

Max took a whiff of the air and said, “I can smell them. Fresh pussy.”

“Come on, you two; that’s disrespectful,” I said.

“You’re right,” Max said. “I’m sorry.”

Ryan shook his head and looked back at the girls. “I have a really hard time understanding how you do it, bro. How could a man give up pussy…”

“And alcohol,” Max said, raising his glass.

“Well, he can have wine, right?”

I didn’t want to get into all the rules with him right then, so I just said, “Yeah, as long as it’s blessed.”

Max laughed heartily and said, “Well maybe we could have a pussy blessed and then you can have one of those, too.” Ryan thought that was hilarious and choked on his beer as he laughed.

The girls they were lusting after took notice of our rowdy table and looked over. Max pasted his most charming smile on his face and said, “Hello, ladies.” The girls all said hello and then whispered something and giggled. I thought my brothers were going to actually let it go until Ryan all of a sudden said, “Do we have to have the pussy blessed by another priest, or can you do it yourself?”

He and Max laughed at that like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard. Growing annoyed with being laughed at and feeling so stressed out I thought I might explode, I slammed down my water glass and said, “You know what? I was drunk two weeks ago…in a bar…and I took home some amazing pussy.”

The table went dead silent for several seconds and then I heard Ryan’s fork clatter to the table. Then, in that eloquent way my little brother has of speaking, I heard, “The fuck you say?”

Chapter Thirteen

Daphne

I spent a lot of time the following week talking to God and praying for guidance and forgiveness. I also spent a lot of time convincing myself that there was absolutely no way that a parish priest got drunk in a local bar and had sex with a stranger. No way. Carla was right and I was letting my imagination take hold.

By the end of that second week, I was okay with myself and able to look in the mirror. I had to accept that God didn’t expect me to be perfect and everyone makes mistakes. I knew that, for the most part, I was a good person, and I felt good about myself most of the time.

I had to decide to file the night of drunken sex with the super-hot stranger under “bad decisions that I definitely shouldn’t repeat.” I wasn’t going to beat myself up over it anymore. I also decided to file the sound of the priest’s voice in the confessional underneath, “coincidence.” That one was harder to do, but it had to be…didn’t it?

I slept in a little bit on Sunday morning since it turned out to be my only day off. Mass didn’t begin until 11, so I got up around 8:30 and had my coffee on the little balcony of my new apartment. It was my favorite part of my new home, and the weather was perfect.

There are two things that renew me when I’m feeling stressed out or overwhelmed. One of them is church and the other is nature. I love to be outside, and since I hadn't had a lot of time to go for my evening walks or just explore the new city, the balcony was a Godsend.

After I finished my coffee and bagel, I went inside and soaked for a bit in the tub. By the time I pulled on my dress and tights and fixed my long hair in a twisty side ponytail for church, I felt good.

I love the church building here. It’s all old stone and stained glass; just walking inside gives me a sense of peace. The air is tinctured with the scent of incense and candles. I imagined that I could smell the musty prayer books…or maybe I really could. As I dipped my fingers into the holy water and made the sign of the cross, I breathed it in and let it fill me with grace.

I made my way down the brightly-lit passage with the polished wood floors and colorfully-painted walls that ran along the east-end of the church. Back there, I passed the little vestry and next to it a small kitchen where the Fathers and the Sisters often prepared and ate their meals.

As I pushed through the heavy oak doors of the inner sanctum, I could hear the singing of the choir as it echoed off of the masonry and wafted up into the rafters. I found a pew near the front and lost myself in the sweet song that reminded me of the innocence of youth; it soothed my spirit and allowed me to imagine a beautiful life stretched out before me.

When the choir finished, the lector came out. I’d only been to that church twice since I had moved there, but the Father had already announced his exit and said good-bye. The lector was there to announce and introduce the new parish priest. I knew a lot of parishioners got nervous when their old priest left them for a new post. I was so new there that it didn’t really matter to me.

They were especially anxious because their old priest of 15 years had just up and vanished. It had been months and still no one knew where he’d gone. Father Byrnes had done a great job of filling in, though, and the congregation had grown close with and accustomed to him. I didn’t know him well enough to form an opinion. The only thing I was interested in was finally seeing the new priest’s face so that I could convince myself once and for all that he wasn’t the man I slept with.

“Welcome, everyone. It’s so nice to see that we have a full house today. I hope you all had a chance to see Father Byrne off and thank him for visiting here with us. He did an amazing job and we’ll miss him.

“But, when God closes one chapter of our books, he opens another. We have the honor now of having our very own priest that we can hopefully hang onto for a long time: Father Jace. He was here last week and he’s been hearing confessions, but for those of you who haven’t had a chance to be here, I’d like to re-introduce Father Jace O’Doyle.

“He’ll be walking in through the back there today where you can all see him. Feel free to stand now and welcome him one more time for all of you who didn’t make it last week.”