Robin's Way 12

The morning came too soon. For one brief, blissful moment, before full consciousness struck, I felt fine; then not. It all flooded back: I felt sick. I dreaded to think what the morning press would bring, let alone what my emails and texts would reveal. Beneath all of it was the pain of the loss of Jane. It was not so much her words about "cooling it," as what they represented which made me feel sick and empty.

Was it too judgemental of me (yes it was) to contrast her caution with my lack of it. In refusing to be blackmailed I had taken a risk, but I had done so because it was the right thing to do. I had refused to bow to pressure, or to equivocate. In all honesty I had plenty to equivocate about. I was not sure that I was attracted to women exclusively, but I was for the most part, and to have talked thus in public would have sounded as though there was something shameful in being gay. So, I had spoken out. My reward? Notoriety, criticism and, in some quarters, ostracization. At very least, there were now question marks about my future in the Church which was, of course, why Jane wished to "cool things." It would hardly do for one of the senior bishops on the Church to be in a relationship with the "randy Rev Robin." Had I remained an obscure young vicar, that might have been accommodated, quiet weekends together, discreet liaisons, all might have escaped notice. But that had gone, and it was not coming back.

Sighing, I prayed for a while. There were times when I wondered why I bothered, it felt like talking to myself, but this was not one of them. Heavy of heart when I began, I felt a feeling of shalom descending. Feeling lighter, I showered, breakfasted, and resolved to face the day. Was that dark skirt too short? I had nice legs, I wanted to give them an airing, it was not as though I was known as the model of priestly modesty. The black stockings and suspenders were a deliberated provocation, but again, why not? The skirt was long enough to preserve my modesty, and I felt as though I wanted to say to the world that I was not hiding from it.

It was with a spring in my steps that I went out to say morning prayer at the Retreat, where Anna and the other women were all waiting for me. In the prayers I added one of thanks for their friendship and support, and coffee afterwards was a cheerful affair as we shared out the jobs that needed to be done. I insisted that no one went alone, which prompted Anna to say: "that goes for you, too Miss Robin." She had me at that, how could I refuse after yesterday?

We went round to the complex to talk with the concierge about what else we could do to help. It was a small community of thirty women who lived independently but with communal areas which alleviated the loneliness. Maddie, the concierge told us how delighted her charges had been at our arrival, and how much of a difference it had made to them. We drew up a rota and a list of ways in which we could help. Then we visited the communal lounge and spent time listening to some of the women.

There was a fascination in listening to their lives, and a sense of sadness that their gifts and experience was being wasted; a healthy society would surely want to treasure such women? They, in turn, loved listening to Anna's account of her life in Ukraine, and some of them spoke movingly about their own memories of being little girls in the immediate post war era. It was as though they and Anna united over the memories of the ruined streets and bombed out houses. There was a bond in shared suffering. It all made me rather ashamed of my own waking thoughts. Did I really expect to act boldly and suffer nothing for it? And what, in any case, was my suffering compared to the stories I had just been privileged to hear? That shook me out of my self-pity. If people wanted to label me, let them. I could do nothing about it -- except to be who God had made me. There, of course, was the rub. But did it even make sense that I had to accept a label?

By the time we'd finished in the lounge, it was time to celebrate with a service of thanksgiving and fellowship. I had come to find such informal services went down well with those who were either unfamiliar with church, or uneasy about it. I got Anna to help me, and afterwards, as I packed my things away, she asked me why I had done that as she was not, she said, a "believer."

"Well," I said, "God believes in you, and he loves you, as he loves all his creatures, so what could be wrong with helping me to help bring fellowship to the women here?"

"You are a curious creature, Robin, not at all like the priests in my own land. I am sure you must have more important things to do than this, and yet you have spent time helping us, and these lonely old women, and for what? In the process you may have damaged your career, and you have risked your life."

I smiled at her, noting, in passing, that this was the first time she had not referred to me as "Miss Robin."

"I love God because he first loved me, and I love you and these women because I reflect that love back at him, Anna. That's why we are here. If love costs me my career or even my life, well I cannot tell God that you are not worth it, if he thinks I am."

"Thank you, thank you Robin. You bring me and the others hope in a world where we had lost it. After what happened to us, we thought all was lost. The counsellors you have arranged for us talk it though, but somehow, you live it."

That was it. I broke down and cried.

I felt Anna hold me, stroke my hair, and soothe me. It felt good. I could not remember the last time I had been held. I stiffened slightly, but as she continued to just hug me, I relaxed into it.

"Oh Robin, when was the last time someone held you like that?"

Straightening myself up, I confessed that I could hardly remember.

"Thank you, Anna, that felt good."

"You have taught me the need to connect with others, Robin."

"And you have taught me that theory needs to be put into practice."

"You really helped me with what you said about my rape. Would it be an awful thing to say that hugging you made me feel aroused for the first time since then?"

"No, it would be honest of you."

"But I am not gay, Robin."

"Does arousal depend on the label you put on yourself, or the one others place on you?"

"No, I guess not. Like the tickling, it is a response, yes?"

I smiled.

"Yes."

"I have to ask, and forgive me if it is not right to do that, did you like it?"

"Yes," I admitted, "but I was glad that we stopped where we did."

She looked crestfallen.

"Does that mean you would not like it if I wanted to go further and explore."

"No," I said, noticing the smile come back to her face, "it simply means now is not the time or place."

Anna grinned, naughtily.

"Good!"

We walked back to the Retreat, conscious of Mac's men following us; he was taking no more chances.

We did a round up with the rest of the team, and what struck me most was the way in which the experience of helping others had revived the spirit of the Ukrainian women. There was a positivity which one could feel. Anna spoke afterwards:

"I am going to ask Robin to pray with us all. I know not all of us are Christians, but I don't know about you, but I feel this is a special moment. I feel so close to you all."

"Yes," was the universal acclaim.

So, I did something I thought I could not do, which was to pray extempore. I was very much a liturgical priests. I liked the certainty of it, the familiar words soothed me, and knowing that generations had been here before me, was a comfort. Extempore prayer was for others, the more evangelical side of the Church, but to my surprise, the words came, indeed they tumbled out, and the women joined in, asking for help for their families, their country and for themselves. We looked at each other and stood, in a circle, holding hands. I don't think I had ever felt so close to God as at that moment in that small community. Refugees, the world might have called them, a blessing was what I called them.

Miriam had joined in, and as the women went back to their rooms, she thanked me.

"I had no idea it could be like this," she said.

"If it's any comfort, nor had I."

"That lady from the Church Times said she'd phone you about four, is that okay with you? I was not sure, but thought you could always fob her off."

"No, let her."

The conversation went well. Unlike the journalists from the mainstream media, she was actively interested in what I was doing, and in how what had happened was impacting on me and the local church.

I chose my words carefully, emphasising that what was happening was a group effort. The women were giving something valuable back to the community which had offered them refuge. I invited her to come to see what was happening. As for me and the local church, well that was something she would have to take up with others. I was busy getting on with what I was doing. We arranged that she would come up from London of Friday.

Friday was now looming large in my mind. I was usually a take each day as it comes sort of woman, but suddenly, I just wanted Wednesday night and Thursday to vanish.

There was a knock on the door. It was Anna.

I looked at her, she looked at me. She came closer. I stood still, waiting.

Our lips met as she pulled me to her. I felt her hands smooth down my back. I pushed against her. Her hands slid up my skirt, and she broke the kiss.

"Stockings, how sexy," she smiled, before, gripping my bottom with her right hand, she pushed her tongue against my lips. I parted them. She pushed me back against the desk, hiking my skirt up and opening my legs as she intensified her kissing.

"Robin, I want you, I want you so badly."

I nodded, the urgency of her passion was communicating itself to me, and I felt a tingle, as well as a dampness between my thighs, and as her tongue explored mine, I wanted to explore further. She stopped. She looked into my eyes.

"I don't want to rush you, Robin, though I am feeling selfish enough to."

I smiled.

"Well, delayed gratification can have its benefits," I said, not precisely sure that I agreed with what I was saying.

Later, I wondered what might have happened had I not called "time."

I was surprised by two things: the strength of her passion; and my reaction. Anna had verged on the aggressive, not, I supposed, altogether surprising in someone whose last sexual experience had been one where force had been used against her. She wanted to regain a sense of control, and I had felt that, strongly. My own reaction had surprised me. Although uneasy, I had felt myself going along with her. My panties were sticky. If I could hazard a guess as to what had got into Anna, I was not sure that I could have done the same with myself. I was relieved that instinct had called a halt, but anxious about where it had left things between Anna and myself.

I was coming to the conclusion that I was no good at this -- relationships, at least sexual ones.

Irina and I had enjoyed a weekend of pleasure, but she had shown no desire to follow it up. It had taken time for Jane to make a pass at me, but the follow up had been slow; and now, well, in the face of the media storm, she had effectively withdrawn. Elena had said she wanted to resume our brief affair, and had promptly betrayed me. Now Anna, who seemed to want to work out some of her trauma through me. The only thing all of this had in common was me.

Even as such thoughts passed through my head, sleep came and took me into Thursday.

I checked my phone, nothing from Jane. The media storm had moved on, as some television presenter had been caught doing something he ought not to have been doing. After breakfast I went to the Retreat to do morning prayer, from which Anna was a notable absentee. I spent an hour with Miriam going through various bits of administration, none of which managed to grab my full attention; but Miriam was kind enough to understand.

Anna was there after lunch when the Corps assembled. On our menu was parish visiting, going out into the wider community to those whom we knew needed help. As members of the team peeled off together, Anna approached me.

"Are you angry with me, Robin?"

"No, but perhaps we could talk? I'll come with you to Mrs Elmira's, it's not a long walk, and my escort can keep an eye on me."

"What happened, Anna?"

"I got, how do you say, carried away. I wanted you that bad."

"It felt aggressive."

"Some women like aggressive, look at me, I came being attacked."

So, my guess had been accurate, she was working out her feelings at what had happened to her, and as her next sexual partner, I was the recipient.

"We discussed that, Anna," I reminded her.

"I am sorry to have upset you, but I thought you liked it."

That was at the heart of what had been making me anxious, and we had come to it far sooner than I would have liked. I had no reasonable answer, and Anna deserved one.

"It felt too much, too soon," I said, "but I can understand why."

"You can? I can't."

"Look, let's have dinner later and we can discuss it."

"You still want to see me?"

I confirmed that I did, even as we arrived at Mrs Elmira's.

She was widow in her late seventies, who, until recently had been active in the church, but a diagnosis of osteoarthritis and a long wait for an operation, had changed all that, more of less confining her to her home. I had arranged with Fr Richard to organise home visits from her friends, and now from members of my Corps. Sometimes, just being there is sufficient, and since my arrival, Mrs Elmira's spirits had risen.

We were offered the inevitable "pot of tea," with me doing the honours to spare her the pain of walking. She and Anna soon got into conversation about Ukraine and the war. For a moment, the pain was assuaged, and the pleasure of companionship soothed her spirit. It amused me that Fr Richard, great opponent of the idea of women priests that he was, was happy enough for me to fulfil a "woman's role." In my view it was part of the pastoral ministry of any priest, but it came easier, perhaps, to a woman.

We were down to spend an hour, but stayed for another half an hour as Mrs Elmira and Anne got on so well. You could see, for a moment, how she must have been and looked fifty years earlier, a lifetime ago. And now, well, on the bright side, instead of isolation in her pain, she had some companionship. I asked if she'd like me to bring her communion on Sunday, but being from a low church background, she said not to bother.

"When you're here, I know God is. God bless you Vicar!"

I thanked her and took her shopping list, promising that one of the team would be back tomorrow, checking that she had her medicines and whether there was anything else we could do.

Some would have wondered whether a priest could not find more profitable uses for her time, but I was not one of them, nor was Anna."

"She was so pleased to see us. If this is your Christ, Robin, I could believe again."

I held her hand and squeezed it.

Back at base I caught up with the afternoon's emails and Miriam's various queries.

"Oh, that nice policeman rang, wanted you to ring back."

I phoned Mac, who answered straight away and thanked me for getting back to him.

"There's been some movement at Dimitri's, and he's given my men the slip. Don't worry, we are still guarding you, but I wanted you to know."

"Thanks Mac. I have an idea, let me investigate."

I phoned Elena. I was about to end the call when she answered, sounding out of breath.

"Sorry, I was in the bathroom and left my phone here. What is it?"

I doubted that the walk from the bathroom to wherever she had left the phone would have left even Mrs Elmira out of breath, but pretended to believe her.

"We still on for dinner tomorrow?"

"Yes, yes, of course."

"Any sign of Dimitri, or will he let himself in while we are out?"

"Yes, yes, Robin, I am looking forward to it, I'll see you here at seven tomorrow, okay?"

That confirmed it in my eyes. She had not answered my question and had answered one I had not asked -- which of course she would have had to have done if he was already there. I was sorely tempted to try to do something to spare myself the wait, but quite what, I was unsure, so turned my mind onto the evening and supper with Anna.

I thought I ought to shower. As I pulled my panties off, I noticed that the gusset was stiff with dried juices; I really had been aroused. I dismissed the thoughts which came to me and let the water wash away the cares of the day.

I chose a pair of lacy powder blue panties with a matching bra, over which I decided to wear a black, red heart print tie front balloon sleeve midi dress -- effortlessly elegant, and with just the right amount of sexy, if I chose to use it. The weather was still warm enough to go bare-legged, and I thought my red stilettos would give me the right match uplift. Was I dressing for a date?

Taking my shawl and red beret, I left for the restaurant. I noticed the looks from my protection detail, one of the men even gave me a big grin and a thumbs up. Well, I thought, someone approved.

So did Anna. Her solid lace white top scarcely concealed the absence of a bra, and it went well with her red and black plaid skater skirt; I was not the only one who had dressed up.

"You look beautiful, Robin."

"Thank you, I love that top, so pretty."

"You don't think it shows too much?"

"Only if you get close," I grinned.

"Any time you like," she smiled.

We ordered and shared a bottle of Chablis.

"I am sorry about earlier," she said.

"I know, and I suspect I did not help much, but I'd like to talk it through with you."

As we ate, Anna opened out as far as she could. I listened, attentively, but let her talk, only asking questions where it seemed warranted.

"I know what you said about the orgasm, but it's like I need to tell myself that is not who I am. I can be in charge, not passive, not just accepting."

"How were you before, if that is not too personal?"

"I ought to say that although I have been with men, I prefer women, and generally there, I have taken a lead where that was wanted. It's just that since what happened, I want to take the lead, to prove that I am not going to be used."

I smiled, asking, "but what does that mean to you. What would show that you are not going to be used?"

"With you, I wanted to take control Robin, I wanted to show you who I am, a strong woman, not a victim."

That, I thought, took us to the heart of the matter. But it did not answer my questions about how I should react if I wanted to have a relationship with Anna.

"Do you think I am too damaged, Robin?"

"No," I answered truthfully. "But it's important that you face up to it, as you are. If you simply give into impulses, it is them, not you who is in charge, you exchange one master for another. What is it you want? Just sex? That is what the Russians wanted you for? Is that the real Anna, to want to have another just for sex?"

"I have done that," she said, "and enjoyed it. Sometimes I just need to have sex, sometimes I want more. How about you?"

I was happier in the pastoral role, listening, gently guiding, and showing her that she was being listened to; I was less happy to be the object of her questions. I thought honesty was the best policy.

Pouring us both a second glass of Chablis and commenting on how well they had done the poached salmon, I tried to answer.

"I'm not very experienced," I admitted, blushing a little.

What a funny species we can be, I thought. Had I been very experienced, I should have been at pains to protest that I was not promiscuous, the apology serving to emphasise that I was not some kind of slut. Yet here I was, also apologising for being inexperienced.