Bless Us Father by Kathy Pratt

He moved closer to her and wrapped the arm that had been on the back of the sofa around her shoulders. He traced his index finger down her cheek, then her neck, and then placed his hand on her shoulder.
    “I don’t want someone else to help me, Mary Margaret. You’re my special assistant, and I believe the Lord wants us to work together for the good of the parish. There’s no greater honor than to serve your church.”
    “I know that, Father, but I thought I’d be serving by being a cheerleader for the schools. They’re extensions of the church.”
    His right hand slid down from her shoulder and, hesitating only briefly, cupped her breast. He pulled her close to him and pressed his lips to hers. Gently, oh so gently, his lips parted and his tongue flicked out, tickling her lips.
    That warm feeling was coming over her again, and it was wonderful. Father must really like her a lot. Maybe he was falling in love with her. Maybe they could run off somewhere together.
    She opened her eyes and looked at the crucifix hanging on the wall of the office. Wasn’t this wrong? She couldn’t even date until she was seventeen. How could it be right to kiss an adult man? Yet, he was a priest, and she’d been taught to never doubt the priests when they told her something.
    “Mary Margaret,” he murmured, now nuzzling her ear. “Oh Mary Margaret I need you to help me, not the school. Our Lord brought you to me to be by my side.”
    His hand slid to her inner thigh and was massaging up and down, up and down. Next it was pressing her legs apart and sliding up towards private area. It felt so good. She leaned her head back and sighed as his mouth moved to her neck. His tongue was making little flicking motions, and his hand was now massaging a spot on her female parts that was causing a whole new sensation. She found herself wanting to press into his hand, but held back.
    Suddenly, he sat up straight and took both of his hands off her. “If you must be a cheerleader, then so be it. I’ll organize the retreat by myself; there isn’t anyone else I want to work with.” He stood and picked up his roman collar.
    “Oh Father, I feel like I’m letting you down.”
    She felt more than that, actually. She wanted him to continue touching her, massaging her. These desires were sinful, she knew, but still wanted it all the same.
    “You are letting me down, my dear, but I’ll get over it. Goodnight, Mary Margaret,” he said, turning his back on her and walking out the door towards the stairs leading to his room.
    “Goodnight, Father,” she said, smoothing her hair and tidying her clothing.
    She looked at the clock. Her mom would be pulling up any minute. She ran to the bathroom to check her appearance, and found to her amazement that her face was quite flushed and her lips looked puffy. No matter. It was dark and Mom wouldn’t notice.
    She turned the office lights out, walked to the back door and opened it. Her Mom was just pulling the big Oldsmobile into the parking lot. She closed the door behind her and went out to the car.
    “Hi, Mom. How was your evening?”
    “You should know how my evening was. You’re the one that ruined it for me. Thank goodness for Father Antonio.”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “I mean, he called the house tonight with his own concerns about your little cheerleading venture. I was able to remind your dad that you had made a commitment to assist Father Antonio, and in our family, we honor our commitments.”
    “Father Antonio called the house and Dad went along with you and Father Antonio?”
    “Yes, Mary Margaret, he did. He saw the light by the time I’d finished talking to him. He won’t be giving you any money for cheerleading, no sirree Bob!”
    Tears rolled down Mary Margaret’s cheeks as she turned away from her mother.
     

Loneliness does not come from having no people about one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain