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And when it was over, Michael wondered what to do again. He felt unable to return to his church – praying did little if no good last time, anyway.
He found himself walking the streets, deep in thought. The people of his parish waved and called their greetings to him but he hardly noticed them. In fact he hardly noticed anyone at all until Mrs. Richardson almost bumped into him. As Michael looked at her he saw – maybe for the first time – the woman rather than the parishioner. Her long blonde hair twirled attractively in the light breeze. The swell of her breasts outlined by the tight sweater suddenly interested him. He couldn’t help imagining her long legs, currently encased in tight jeans, naked and wrapped around his body. He tried to shake the feeling off but it was resolute.
“Are you all right, Michael?” Lorna Richardson said quietly. “You look a little flushed.”
“No. I’m fine. Thank you Mrs. Richardson.”
“Please call me Lorna.” The blonde replied, mock scolding him. “You know I’ve told you so many times!”
Michael nodded. He was desperately attempting not to stare straight at the woman’s breasts.
“You know you look different somehow.” She continued, one eyebrow raised. “I don’t know, maybe more like a regular man than a clergyman? Does that make any sense?”
Suddenly Michael smiled back into her enquiring face. It made perfect sense, he thought. Perfect sense.
The End
