Robin's Year 02

Sunday was, for once, not a busy day. I went down to the road to St Edward's. I had chatted to the vicar, Mother Beth, as she liked to be called, and we had hit it off. She was pleased to have me in the parish and had asked me to go to her morning service of Eucharist.

"Robin, welcome," she said as I went down the path to the church. She was one of those who liked to welcome people individually, which I loved.

"So glad you could make it. Do stay for coffee afterwards."

It felt strange not to be conducting the service, but also it was relaxing. The congregation was a big one, and nicely spread out in terms of age and sex.

"I have a few notices before we start," she said, cheerfully. "Some of you will know that the Church is setting up the Rahab Centre for trafficked women in the parish. It's Director is the Rev Robin Topham, who is with us this morning. Let's give her a big St Ed's welcome!"

I stood up and waved to the applause.

"Do stay for coffee and a chat with her at the end."

I thought that was nice of her.

Beth's sermon was good, and she created a good atmosphere spiritually. I was particularly interested to see they had a Sunday School for the children. This felt a vibrant and prayerful community. I should enjoy being part of it.

People were very welcoming, which made up for the appalling coffee-like stuff served up. At the end Beth asked if I had plans for lunch, and on hearing I didn't, she invited me back to the vicarage.

Beth was a bit older than me, in her mid-thirties I guessed (I was right, she was 36). Back home she introduced me to her husband, Donald, who was the Chief Financial Officer at the university I was working with, St Hilda's.

"Nice to meet you Robin, Our Vice-Chancellor speaks highly of you, and I hear great things about your Centre."

Like his wife, Donald was warm, welcoming, and good company. Lunch was good, and afterwards we went for a walk down the Thames path. Afterwards I thanked them for the pleasure of their company, and went home, rather content with life. It was a good preparation for the week ahead.

Monday morning was so busy with the arrival of the women who would be staying at the centre, that I had trouble keeping up with everything, but Rhona and Irina proved invaluable, and we had six students from St Hilda's who were working with us as part of their studies. Between us, we managed to get everyone settled, and we then had a session where we could all get to know one another.

I outlined what we were doing, then got Irina to describe how we'd be working in the local community. I explained that we'd be asking each of them to talk to one of us about their skills and experience, and then asked for questions.

A tall, rather striking woman with blonde hair put her hand up.

"I am Ilona, from Hungary, can I ask why this is all being done by the church? Is it not for the secular arm to deal with?"

"A good question, Ilona. We do not have a separation between church and state here, and this ministry is part of the way in which we show our love for one another. You have all been through an ordeal, and our job is to travel with you towards whatever form of healing might be possible. You will have access to trained secular professionals, and indeed, our colleagues from St Hilda's are working towards such qualifications, so we shall be helping each other."

That seemed to go down well, and over coffee and pastries, I noticed the atmosphere lighten.

The second session was a group one with me. I introduced myself, and the others did so one by one, saying something about their experiences. Ilona, it transpired, had been working in Ukraine helping train teachers, when she had been caught up in the Russian invasion. She had been treated the same as the other women and eventually sold on. It was a variation on the story all the others told.

I told them something of my own experiences with Anna and the others, and then alluded to something I thought might be bothering some of them.

"The woman I have been talking about found a particular source of shame in the fact that she had orgasms while being used. If any of you have the same problem, let me tell you what I told her, which is that it is a physical reaction; it does not mean, as she feared, that you are some sort of slut. You all survived, you are incredibly brave, and together we can, I hope, lead you from the dark places."

Sharing that seemed to help. Ilona approached me in the break period after lunch.

"Can I talk, Miss Robin?"

"Please, just call me Robin, and yes, would you prefer my office or the chapel?"

"Your office please, Miss."

She seemed nervous, clasping an unclasping her hands.

"You seem so nice, and what you said would, I am sure have helped, but it is not true in my case."

"What is not true, Ilona?"

She blushed.

"I am a slut Miss, I wasn't before this, but I am now."

It was important not to seem judgemental, and simply to have told her she was not, which was what I wanted to do, would have been to have shown her no respect, so I encouraged her to go on.

"Can this be like the confessional, Miss, you won't say anything to anyone?"

"Ilona, you have my word on that. So feel free to say what you need."

"It is hard Miss. But, well, after the first few times I noticed that when I did orgasm, they were nicer to me. So I played up to them, offering to do dirty things without being asked. I invited them to use me and came when they did. I even set out, with success, to persuade the commander to make me his whore. This was so unlike me, but it became the new me. It continued even when we came to the UK, and I was the chief pimp's favourite. I came to enjoy submitting to them. It got me better treatment."

She was describing some sort of Stockholm syndrome. An intelligent woman, she had acted in ways designed to secure her some protection from the worst of what could have happened to her. I talked this through with her, listening carefully. There was an undertone there which I knew I was not picking up, so I let her carry on.

"You are kind Miss, but I ought to confess to you that I still crave submission, I pleasure myself thinking of it. It is awful, they turned me into a slut, Miss."

I could hear the agony in her voice, but knew that she was also getting aroused by telling me.

"That is what they wanted you to think, it is how you survived, Ilona, and with help, we can work you through this."

"Thank you Miss. One last question?"

"Of course."

"Are we allowed sexual relations Miss?"

Now there, I thought, was a question that had not occurred to me.

"Just be careful, Ilona, there may be men who will exploit you again, so please, be open with me, at least."

"I shall, Miss, and thank you."

That had left me a little shaken. I felt, as I told Irina later, out of my depth by many leagues. Discussing it with the St Hilda's women, they said that what I had been told was not that uncommon, and that they did have professionals who could help.

We discussed the question of sex, and the St Hilda's women had clear views.

"It's important that they are allowed to try to find themselves, Vicar," (which seemed to be the way they all addressed me) "so you gave the right answer."

The rest of the day went well, and communal dining in the evening provided a fitting conclusion to a good, if exhausting day.

Rhona seemed pleased.

"You were so good with them Robin, you're a natural. I think we can do so much here. Now, about the dinner, you might want to look at the final guest list for Thursday night."

I could see the pride in her smile, and when I saw the list, I could see the reason for it. An impressive number of the good and the great were there. Then I saw it, Bishop Jane! I had not realised. I mentioned it.

"I thought as your former boss, it would do no harm. I had to chase, but her PA said she would ensure she came, so I put her on the final list. It's a shame the Home Secretary can't make it, but Alice Watson, her number two, is a rising star in the party, so it might be a useful contact to cultivate."

Rhona was so good at all this. I thanked her for her diligence, but after she left, I could not help wondering what it meant that it was Anya Rostov who had replied and said that she would "ensure" Jane came?

I have heard it said that start-ups are hard. I could not say about the generality, but starting up the Rahab Centre was exhilarating. Maddie came over on the Wednesday to finalise the press coverage. I said I was delighted that she would be there.

"Wouldn't miss it for worlds, and I am coming with a plus one."

I smiled.

"Intriguing, I thought you were single"

"I am, for now," she smiled, "but, well, and for this I have you to thank, Rupert and I are dating!"

I clapped my hands in delight.

"Oh Maddie, I am delighted. He's such a nice man too - and so dishy."

"Isn't he?" She grinned.

It seemed as though the Centre was already generating positivity.

Thursday night was no time to drop my guard. Best little black dress, and, I thought, black seamed stockings and Louboutins would, I hoped, add a touch of class. All part of my one woman campaign against the conventional image of women priests as either bluestockings or mumsy types. After all, one never knew when opportunity might knock, did one?

I went into full "Director mode," welcoming our distinguished guests, making sure that everything was in order, and then introduced the guest of honour, Archbishop Justin.

I could not have asked for a better encomium, and his words were echoed by the Mayor of London and by Miss Watson from the Home Office.

I kept my eye open for Jane, but she seemed busy chatting.

Even as I was looking for an opportunity, a tall man approached me.

"So, you are the famous Robin. Delighted to meet you. I am Viktor Kossuth, chargé at the Hungarian Embassy. My ambassador sends his apologies, but his loss is my gain."

I am not short, but Viktor must have been at least six foot three. His eyes sparkled.

"So, tell me, how is it that my briefing notes tell me you are still single? Pretty woman like you? In my country you would be much desired."

As opening gambits went, that was, as I told Irina later, something else.

I must have muttered something, as he replied:

"It is a sign of the decadence that invests too much of our Western world that a woman of your beauty and intelligence has not been snapped up. British men are not what they were when you created your Empire."

If I had felt flustered at first, by now I was in that rare (for me) state of not knowing what to say. Fortunately with Viktor, far from it mattering, it was something of a plus.

"I am told you are helping one of our citizens, for which thanks. We have told her that anytime she feels she wants to come home, we shall help her. We can also, if you like, help in other ways. So many of these women come from eastern Europe, and if Ukraine or their own home is not safe, we would be prepared to welcome them and give them settlement grants."

"That is extremely kind of you, Viktor."

"Not at all, Robin. As you know, our government is committed to increasing the population through the development of families, and I am sure that we could find suitable husbands for these women to allow them to become homemakers and mothers."

Was that a catch, I wondered, or just a sign of my decadent Western views that I was less enthralled than I pretended to be?

"Thank you, Viktor, we can mention that to them."

"Not at all, Robin. You should think about it yourself."

And with that, off he went to give the Archbishop of Canterbury the benefit of his views.

Irina caught me.

"You look flustered. Who was that tall, dark, handsome stranger?"

I told her.

"No wonder you looked flushed. Do you think that is his chat up line? 'Hey gorgeous, you're still single, let me marry and breed you?'"

"Does it work in Hungary?" I asked.

"Does it work with you, Robin?"

We both giggled, but agreed it didn't.

I did the circuit of the room and spoke to Bishop Sarah, who said she was very satisfied with the launch. Maddie and Rupert joined us, and assured us both that it would be a good write-up in their respective newspapers.

I was still trying to get to Jane when Mss Watson, the junior minister, stopped me.

"Robin, I hope I can call you that?" I nodded. "Good. This is quite the pioneering enterprise, just the sort of Big Society initiative the Prime Minister wants us to be associated with, so I hope you don't mind if I take a personal interest in what you're doing?"

"Far from it, Minister, I'm pleased."

"Oh Robin," she said, touching my hand, "Alice, please. I'd love you to come and talk to the parliamentary sub-committee after your first few months. If this works, it could become a model for how we deal with such problems."

"Thank you, Alice, I'd be delighted."

"Aren't you Lady Topham's daughter?"

"I am."

"Oh I've met your mother, she used to be quite the dynamic force in local politics in the day. I'm guessing she was not too keen when you came out."

What was it with politicians and getting personal?

"Well, we are fine now, Alice, and that's what matters."

"It is, it is Robin, and as one of the first openly gay female Tory MPs, I know whereof you speak. We both belong to organisations with a worthy heart, but a head stuck in the 1950s."

Why had I not known that about her? Probably because I had skim read Rhona's extensive notes.

"I do like that outfit Robin, who knew a female vicar could look sexy?"

I felt myself blush.

"You look pretty good yourself, Alice, not the usual MP in a business suit."

She was wearing a long green dress with just enough hint of décolletage to subtly divert your attention to her breasts, without flaunting them.

"Glad you approve. Now, call me forward, and I'll admit I am, but any chance of your getting down Westminster way soon for either lunch of supper?"

I would have called her "forward," but was rather pleased.

"That would be nice, business or pleasure?"

|f you can make supper, let's keep it to pleasure. Shall I say supper?"

Alice had a way of framing the conversation so it went where she wanted it to go, but since I was not averse to the destination, I agreed.

"Right, I'll get my assistant to get onto yours, but would you like my number?"

"Please."

"Right, give me yours and I'll text you."

And she did.

"Lovely, Robin, I'd best see that wretched Mayor, but look forward to seeing you soon."

With that, she kissed me on both cheeks, and set off like a heat-seeking missile in the direction of the Mayor.

The crowd was thinning out, and a few people popped by to say good night. Finally I located Jane, who was just saying good night to the Archbishop. He brought her over to me.

"Robin, wonderful evening, just the sort of eye-catching initiative the Church wants to be associated with. Alice Watson was singing your praises, so I think we are in well there with the Government. Right, ladies, I must be off, but catch you tomorrow, Jane, unless you want a lift?"

Jane looked at me and declined.

"I wanted to apologise," she said, when he was out of earshot. "You must think I am a bitch?"

I had long pondered this moment, but had no idea what to say in response.

"I was disappointed," I said, "but I am told that Miss Anya told you to come tonight?"

It took a moment for Jane to register what I had just said. She did a double-take and then ignored it.

"Anya managed to clear the diary."

"I am not surprised. Why? Did you not want to come?"

Jane looked flustered.

"It's complicated."

"Oh," I said, and trying another version of my opening gambit, I responded: "I thought it was simple, Miss Anya says jump and you say how high?"

At that moment, Rhona came over to ask if there was anything else I wanted her to do before getting the caterers to begin to clear up. Cursing her timing, I introduced her to Jane and said what an invaluable help she had been.

The smile on Rhona's face told me how much it had pleased her that a Bishop should have heard her praised. That, in itself, along with meeting so many important people, made it all worthwhile to Rhona.

As she went off, Jane said:

"Robin, I don't know what you are implying?"

"Don't you, Jane? Why, did you think your little secret was safe with her, as long as you behaved?"

Jane stood there as though struck by thunder.

"Oh God! Robin, how? I want the floor to open up and swallow me."

"How? One of my contacts came across a picture of you in a real dog collar."

"I need to sit."

Rhona came over.

"Is the Bishop okay?"

"She feels a little faint, Rhona, could you get her some water?"

Irina came over, but seeing who I was with, just said:

"Wonderful night Robin. I'll leave you with the Bishop, but see you in the morning bright and early."

Rhona brought Jane some water, but the latter's face looked pale and drawn. It was as though she had aged ten years in as many minutes.

"Rhona, did you say that there was some food left over from lunch?"

"Yes, it's in the kitchen, perhaps I can rustle up something for you and the Bishop?"

"It might help her, Rhona. We'll be with you in a moment."

"I can take it to your flat Robin, don't worry."

Jane came with me in silence. She drank some of the water. I could see she was shaking.

We sat at my kitchen table, and only once Rhona, bless her, had brought us some food and left were we able to resume our chat.

"I don't know what to say Robin. I suppose you are going to tell the Archbishop? I am ruined."

"Jane, I am not your enemy, I loved you, Share with me if you can, maybe it will help?"

"Ironic! How often have I said that to people; now it is my turn. I don't suppose you're going to tell me where you got the pictures?"

"You don't suppose correctly, but I can say that they are not in circulation and that my source is not going to tell the Archbishop."

"Are you?"

"I need more information first. Now eat some of that food and tell me."

She gulped, but once she began, it all poured out.

Jane told me that she had always had what she called "submissive instincts."

"At college it was good just to escape the pressure by imagining myself as being helpless with some woman telling me what to do. By day I would be the striving, earnest scholar going places, and by night, I would become the submissive lesbian doing whatever her mistress told her."

For a while, when she was first ordained, the temptation lessened, and when she found her first girlfriend, it receded under the give and take of a good sex life. But the pressures of having to keep it secret for the sake of her career got to her girlfriend, who eventually left as she could take no more. Then she met Stacy.

"Stacy was an instructor in the gym I worked out at. I found the exercise a good way of sublimating my desires. But one evening when we were finished, Stacy asked me to stay behind, told me that she loved my 'sexy ass' in the leggings I was wearing, and told me to take them down."

Jane said it was as though her fantasy had come to life. Stacy made her strip and show her private parts to her. She made her exercise in the nude and then told her to eat her out. She had made Jane lick both her pussy and her ass. It was the beginning of a six-month relationship in which Jane became her "pussy girl." But then Stacy moved on, leaving Jane both desolate and sexually frustrated.

The sheer difficulty of having a sexual partner of the same sex meant Jane gave up trying that route. She would, when the urge got too much, go to a gay bar, and let herself be picked up and fucked. That, she said, was where she had met Anya.

Anya had taken care to learn Jane's triggers, and had taken her to specialist night club to parade her in her collar.