Joan of Snark Ch. 07

CONTENT WARNING

This story contains sexual acts involving a Catholic priest. If you are religious - especially if you are Christian or Catholic - you might get offended. So don't say I didn't warn you.

*****

As Joan knocked on the front door of the rectory, she braced herself for another evening of Father Ben and Lil's loving demonstrations of their "friendship." And she was dreading every second of it.

The door swung open. "Hello Joan," Father Ben warmly greeted her.

"Hello Father," Joan glumly replied.

"Come on in," he said ushering her into the living room.

"What would you and Lil like me to cook for dinner?"

"Oh, it's just me tonight." Father Ben took a seat of the couch.

Joan could not help but feel a flood of relief. "Oh? Where's Lil?" she tentatively inquired.

"Lil's gone out. She has work to do. She won't be back until late tonight."

"Work? But Lil doesn't live here. What kind of work is she doing? Does she do some sort of freelance work?"

"Yeah ... something like that. She has an appointment this evening," Father Ben explained. "So it's just you and me tonight. I hope that's alright."

"Oh ... yeah. Of course ... I guess," Joan said, trying to sound casual.

"But before I forget, Lil wanted me to give you something."

"Lil wants to give something to me?" Joan asked suspiciously.

"Yeah, she felt bad about last night. She was worried that maybe she made you feel uncomfortable. So to make it up to you, she got you a little something." Father Ben pointed at a box on the coffee table. It was wrapped in blue and green paper and tied up with a yellow ribbon. "Have a seat," Father Ben offered, gesturing to the armchair.

Joan sat down and Father Ben handed her the box. "What is it, Father?" she asked.

"well, I'm not the one who bought it. Why don't you open it and find out."

Joan slid off the yellow bow and carefully removed the paper. Underneath the green and blue wrapping was a white box. On the lid was the golden image of a woman dressed in some sort of a Grecian robe, donning a warrior's helmet and holding a long spear. Above the woman's head, written in ornate scrip, were the words, "Athena Confectionery."

"I think she got me chocolates," Joan said, looking up at Father Ben.

"Really? Should we conduct a little taste test?" the young priest suggested. "For quality control purposes, of course," he jokingly added.

Joan placed the white box back onto the coffee table and lifted the lid. She removed the the inner menu card and the top layer of stiff protective plastic. They both gazed down at the array of sweets in front of them.

"Go on," he said encouragingly. "Which one looks good? Give it a taste!"

Joan chose one of the bonbons at random. It was ivory colored with some sort of a green nut on top. She put it into her mouth. She let it sit on her tongue for a few moments, letting the candy soften and eventually melt. It filled her mouth with a sweet and oddly peppery flavor.

"How is it?" Father Ben asked.

Joan furrowed her brow and swallowed. "Kind of spicy."

Father Ben picked up the menu card. "White chocolate with green pistachios, cinnamon and ginger," he informed her. "That's an interesting combination." He then plucked a chocolate out of the box for himself and popped it into his mouth.

"What did you get?" Joan asked.

Gulping down the decadent treat, Father Ben looked down at the menu card. "Maraschino cherry," he replied. "Mm, nice!" Raising an impish eyebrow, he said, "You know what goes well with chocolate." He grinned and looked at her expectantly.

Joan hesitated for a moment. Then sheepishly smiling, she answered, "Red wine."

"That's right, Miss Hubert!" Father Ben got up from the couch and returned moments later with a decanter and two glasses.

Joan bit into another candy. The milk chocolate was creamy and smooth and filled with bits of chopped hazelnuts.

"Isn't this bad, Father?"

"Is what bad?" he asked as he sat back down and filled the two glasses with wine.

"Having dessert before dinner. I mean, the diocese pays me to come to the rectory and make supper for you. And here we are sitting around eating chocolates and drinking wine."

"Would you rather spend the entire evening cooking and cleaning?" He pointed toward the kitchen.

Joan lowered her eyes and softly laughed, "No, definitely not."

"And are we hurting anyone?"

"No."

"Then who the hell cares if we're having candy and wine for dinner?"

"Yeah, you're right," Joan conceded.

Father Ben raised his glass. "To having chocolate for dinner!" he toasted.

"To having chocolate for dinner!" Joan brought her beverage to meet the priest's. They cheerfully clinked glasses.

After taking a long sip, Father Ben looked back down into the box. "Dark chocolate is my favorite," he said as he sought out his preferred piece of confectionery.

"Please tell Lil that I said thank you. But she really didn't need to buy me a present."

"Really? She was worried that she upset you yesterday evening."

"Lil didn't upset me. At least, not at the rectory."

Father Ben looked puzzled. "What do you mean? Did you bump into her today around town."

"No, no. Nothing like that," Joan tried to backpedal. "It's stupid. Forget it!"

"It's alright, you can tell me." Father Ben shifted forward on the couch and leaned toward Joan.

"No, I feel dumb. It's just that ... last night ... I had a weird dream."

Oh god, what am I doing, Joan frantically thought to herself. Shut up! Stop talking!

"A bad dream?" Father Ben guessed.

"Well, it didn't start off so bad. I mean, it began kind of scary. But then it turned sort of ... nice ... for a little while." Joan could feel her face becoming hot. She knew that her cheeks were turning red. She started to perspire.

"'Sort of nice?' What does that mean?" he asked with a roguish smile.

"Nothing! I don't normally have those sorts of dreams. Or those sorts of feelings," she quickly added. "It was just a stupid dream. Dreams don't mean anything, anyway."

Father Ben leaned back and crossed his left calf over his right thigh. He rested his right arm over the back of the couch and cradled his glass of wine in his left hand. "You know Joan, it's okay to have different sorts of dreams. And it's perfectly fine to experience different kinds feelings. Even if those feelings are about someone ... who you didn't expect to have feelings for. Lil is an extremely attractive woman."

"I'm NOT a lesbian, Father!"

"I never said that you were a lesbian, Joan. But you're only eighteen. Many people discover in their twenties - or even older - that they're sexually fluid."

"I'm not bisexual!"

"Are you sure?" Father Ben snickered. "Your subconscious sure seems to think otherwise."

"You're a Catholic priest! You're not supposed to approve of gays and lesbians," Joan pointed out.

Father Ben cocked his head to the side and shrugged. "Strict Catholic dogma doesn't dictate what I think and believe. And besides, aren't you an atheist? As a secular non-believer, shouldn't you be a little more open-minded about different sexual orientations?"

"I am open-minded. I don't care if other people are gay or bi. I'm just saying that I'm not a lesbian. And I don't have any feelings for your slutty 'friend' Lil!"

"Come on now, Joan. Don't get upset. And there's no reason to say something like that about Lil," Father Ben chided.

Joan took a big swig of her wine. She narrowed her eyes as she looked across at Father Ben. "I'm not blind, you know. Or stupid."

"What are you talking about?" he innocently asked.

"I see the way you two flirt and touch each other. If you're fucking her, you can just be honest with me about it. Like you said, I'm an atheist. It makes no difference to me whether or not you break your celibacy vows. And besides, I think the Catholic Church should allow priests to get married."

Father Ben smiled. "Joan, I could understand why you think Lil and I are ... romantically involved. But I can assure you, that is one line she and I don't cross. We're just old friends who've been through alot together."

"I know, I know. You were there for her when she broke up with her ex. What a gentleman you must have been!" Joan scoffed. "Offering her a shoulder to cry on when she was emotional and vulnerable. And on the rebound."

"That's not exactly how it happened," Father Ben corrected her.

"Then how did it happen?"

"Well, it was a bit of a shit show, to be honest. Lil left her ex for my brother Sam."

"Oh?" That was a detail that Joan had not been expecting to hear.

"But she hadn't quite fully finished breaking up with her ex before hooking up with my brother," Father Ben explained. "There was some ... overlap," he euphemized.

"I see," said Joan. "Was she with your brother for long?"

"No," Father Ben answered. "Uh ... not long after getting together with my brother, she found out that she was pregnant."

"With your brother's baby?"

"Well, that's the thing. She wasn't exactly sure who the father was because of the timing. It might have been my brother's baby. But there was also the possibility that her ex was the father."

"Yikes! That sounds awkward! But I guess that's why we have the Murray Povich Show," Joan quipped.

"Yeah," Father Ben chuckled. "Well, she didn't want to have the baby. But when she asked my brother to take her to a clinic, he refused. He wouldn't even help her pay for the procedure."

"Because he's pro-life?" Joan asked. "I mean, your family's obviously Catholic after all."

"Not exactly," Father Ben said. "But no, my brother is definitely NOT pro-life. If anything, he's the opposite of pro-life."

"Well then, if he isn't pro-life, why wouldn't he help Lil get an abortion?"

"Because my brother is just a cheap irresponsible bastard," Father Ben bemoaned as he gulped down some more wine. "He refused to take responsibility for his mistake." The young priest shook his head.

"Well, to be fair to your brother, it wasn't necessarily his 'mistake.' I mean, you said it your self. Lil was fucking her ex and your brother around the same time. Maybe it was her ex's 'mistake.'"

"Yeah maybe. But he still should have manned up and helped his girlfriend."

"So what did Lil do?"

"Well, she couldn't go to her father. There was no way that he was going to help her out of that situation. And she certainly couldn't go back to her ex. If anything, he would have tried to force her to have the baby. There was no one else for her to turn to. So I took Lil to the abortion clinic myself. Helped her pay for it and everything," recounted Father Ben.

"Are you serious?" Joan asked in disgust.

"Serious about what?"

"You're a Catholic priest and one of your closest friendships is centered around a trip to an abortion clinic."

"I wasn't a priest at that time. And besides, you're not anti-choice, are you?"

Joan crossed her arms over her chest as she scrutinized the devilishly handsome clergyman sitting in front of her. "What kind of a priest are you anyway? You definitely don't act like a priest."

"Tell me Miss Hubert, what exactly is a priest supposed to act like?"

"Well, first of all," Joan began, "most Catholic priests don't encourage their congregants to become lesbians."

Father Ben burst out laughing. "Alright," he said in amusement. "Go on," he encouraged.

Joan continued, "And most Catholic priests don't go around driving pregnant girls to abortion clinics."

"And I'm sure that as an atheist and as a feminist, that REALLY bothers you," he said.

"I never said that I was a feminist."

"You're NOT a feminist?" Father Ben skeptically asked.

"Well ... no ... not exactly ... I mean ... I'm not NOT a feminist," Joan stammered.

"Well, that clears things up," Father Ben said with a bemused chuckle. "But please Miss Hubert, tell me more about the appropriate conduct, which you expect from a man of the cloth."

Joan took several rather large sips of her wine. She knew that she should not say what she was about to say. But she could not stop herself. As feelings of anger and jealousy bubbled up inside of her, she said, "Well, most Catholic priests, who've taken vows of chastity, don't let WHORES stay over at the rectory!"

The amused expression disappeared from Father Ben's face. His features darkened. Even his eyes seemed to go from light brown to dark umber - almost black. A crease formed down the center of his forehead as he lowered his brows. He looked across at her with a stony stare. "I told you not to talk that way about Lil," he said quietly. He drew in a deep heavy breath, causing his chest to broadly expand.

The change in Father Ben's demeanor frightened Joan. But she did not want him to know that she was scared. "Why not?" she defiantly shot back. "She cheated on her boyfriend with your brother. You said it yourself, she was fucking two guys at the same time."

"That doesn't give you the right to call her a whore," Father Ben asserted.

"If she doesn't want to be called a whore, then maybe she shouldn't act like a whore," Joan retorted.

"Fucking up one time doesn't mean that she should be called a whore. She suffered for her mistake and she paid the price."

"'Paid the price?'" Joan scoffed. "No she didn't! Father, you bailed her out!"

"Trust me, Joan, she paid a high price. Lil was never the same after what she went though. And she certainly doesn't need YOU judging her."

"So Father, how exactly did Lil 'pay you back' for you helping her to get an abortion?" Joan asked suggestively.

"Stop talking that way Joan," Father Ben warned.

"Tell me, I'm curious. Did she give you a handjob in the backseat of your car?" she said in a sultry voice.

"Joan stop," Father Ben said seriously.

"Or was it a blowjob?" She seductively pouted her lips.

"Joan, that's enough," he sternly told her.

"Or did she let you fuck her?" Joan sculled the remainder of her wine. "Was that how she 'paid' you, Father? I bet she bent right over and grabbed her ankles. Probably right behind the Planned Parenthood where they helped her to kill her baby."

"JOAN!" Father Ben roared. "Who the FUCK do you think you are speaking to me like that? Do you have any idea who I am?"

"A fake priest who helps slutty girls to get abortions in return for sexual favors." Joan reached down and grabbed the decanter. Without asking, she poured herself another serving of wine.

Before she had a chance to pick up her glass, Father Ben's arm shot out. In one swift sweeping action, he knocked both wineglasses, the decanter and the chocolates off of the coffee table. They all tumbled onto the floor below. The chocolates flew out of their box and scattered all over the rug. The decanter survived the fall but both wine glasses broke at their stems. The burgundy liquid began to seep into the dark green carpet.

It took Joan a few seconds to processes what had just taken place. As if moving in slow motion, she looked up at the man across from her. He sat forward on the edge of the couch, looking at her as if he was ready to pounce. His breathing was loud and heavy. His dark eyes were wide with incredulous anger.

"Father, I ... uh ... I'm sorry. I didn't mean ..."

"Shut your mouth," he cut her off.

"No, please Father. Just let me ..."

"What the hell do you not understand when I say, 'Shut your mouth?'" he growled.

Joan's jaw dropped open in shock. She could not believe how Father Ben was speaking to her. However, after a moment or two, she quickly pressed her top lip to her bottom, closing her mouth. Her right hand clutched her left. She clenched her fingers together in her lap as she slumped down in her seat.

"That's better," he said quietly. "Now stand up."

Joan decided to take that as her cue to leave. So she got up from the armchair and turned toward the front door.

"I never said that you could go. I only told you to stand up."

Joan halted abruptly, turned to face him and froze in place. She looked down at the intimidating man seated on the couch. The once jovial and rakish priest had now become threatening and irate. He slowly leaned back, leisurely stretched out his arms and clasped his hands together behind his head. "So Miss Hubert, you think you're in a position to judge others. In particular, you think you're in a position to judge other women."

"I never said that I was ..."

Father Ben brought his finger to his lips as he gave her a chastising look. "Shhhh!" he sternly hushed her.

Joan scowled as she clamped her mouth shut.

"Now, as I was saying, you seem to think that you have the right to judge the moral character of other women. I find it very interesting that a girl - who's willing to touch herself during confession - would call another woman a 'slut.'"

Joan grimaced at the mention of her previous embarrassing behavior. But Father Ben was taking her actions out of context. "I only did that so Father O'Connor would fire me," she protested.

"Quiet!" Father Ben snarled. "If you speak again without permission, you won't like what I do next."

What was that supposed to mean? Joan began to get the feeling that she was not going to like what Father Ben did next, whether she spoke without permission or not. Her instincts were screaming at her to leave the rectory. But she was not sure how she could make an exit without rousing his ire.

"You think you have the right to call Lil a 'whore.' That's fascinating! Considering that your first evening working for me, you kissed me. Even though you knew that I was a priest. You asked me if you could spend the night here at the rectory. You grilled me about my sexual history. And you grabbed my hand and put it under your skirt, making me touch you."

Joan could simply not keep quiet. "Well Father, if I recall correctly, you didn't exactly pull your hand back right away."

"What did I tell you about speaking without permission?"

Joan closed her mouth and looked down at the floor, which was now stained with wine. She did not want to make Father Ben more angry than he already was. But she thought that if he could just hear her out, maybe she could deescalate and diffuse the situation. She knew that he had not yet given her permission to speak. But she wanted to offer him a proper apology.

"Father, honestly, I am very sorry. I take back what I said about Lil. I shouldn't have called her a 'slut' or a 'whore.' I spoke out of anger. I didn't mean any of it."

As Father Ben looked up at Joan, he thoughtfully stroked his chin, as if he was pondering something. He then reached over to a narrow wooden end table next to the couch. He opened the shallow top drawer and pulled out a silver and grey rosary. Twirling it around his right hand, he ran the fingers of his left over the polished beads.

"Normally when I'm confronted with someone's bad behavior, it's usually during their confession. And that situation is quite simple. The sinner admits to their transgressions and apologizes for their offenses. And then I absolve them of their sins and assign them their penance."

"I know," Joan said nervously. "I was raised Catholic. I go to confession."

"Yes, you were raised Catholic. But you're a non-believer. You don't think that there is a god to apologize to. So assigning you penance would be pointless. Having you pray to God or making you do the rosary would have no meaning for you. You wouldn't learn anything." Father Ben tossed the rosary onto the coffee table. "So I guess I'm going to have to be a little more creative in coming up with your penance."

"But I already apologized, just now. Can't you just forgive me? I mean, you're a Christian and a priest. Father, according to your own religion, you have to forgive me."

"Don't assume that you know anything about me or my religion. And don't you dare tell me about what I have to do."