The Priest's Virgin Concubine

His living quarters were reached through a short, narrow hallway at the rear of the church, near his office. Megan opened a battered wooden door and stepped through, her eyes gleaming with pride. "Here you are."

It was...perfect. The first place, Justin thought, that he could truly call his very own. Not a bedroom in his parents' house. Not a college dorm room. Not an apartment shared with three other guys. And definitely not the cramped student quarters at Mundelein, which half-resembled a prison dormitory. The door opened onto a surprisingly large living room, filled with furniture that was old, but of obviously good quality -- comfortable and well-worn. Through an open arch, he could see a kitchen. A second door led to his bedroom and a small but tidy bathroom. To his left, a large picture window showed him a small patio, flagged with stone pavers, and a well-manicured lawn bordered with a white picket fence.

"It's lovely," he said. He gestured to the fence with a smile. "Now all I need is a wife, two kids, and a dog named Spot."

Megan chuckled. "Can't help you with the wife. And children would cause quite a scandal, wouldn't they? But every home needs a pet. If you've a mind, I can probably find someone who has a kitten or a puppy for you."

"Maybe," Justin nodded. "Thanks for showing me around," he said. "I appreciate it."

The older woman took the hint. "I've got to be going," she said, looking at her watch. "The kids and the husband will be wanting their dinner."

"You're married?" he asked, though he had already seen her wedding ring.

"Twenty-six years," she said proudly. "And five kids, God knows why."

She turned to leave, then paused, one hand on the door. "I hope you don't mind," she said "But we've arranged for a welcome-to-town pot-luck Saturday evening. Here at the church. Outside if the weather is nice. Or downstairs if we get rain, which hopefully we won't."

Justin wasn't surprised. The parishioners would want to get a look at him. And considering that three straight priests had come and gone in the last six months, they had to be hoping that this time they would get one who could do the job. "Well, that will give me two days to get settled," he replied. "And it would be nice to meet everyone. Thank you. It sounds like a great idea."

"You're welcome, Father. Have a pleasant evening.

"And welcome to Fertile Valley."

Chapter 2: Sizing Him Up

"I'm home." Brittany's mother's voice floated through the house as she opened the back door.

"Hi, Mom." Brittany put her phone in her pocket and walked out to greet her. "How were things at church?" she asked, leaning up to kiss her cheek.

"All right. Where is everyone?"

"Sabrina is up in her room, talking to her soulmate on the phone." Brittany rolled her eyes. "Doug is at work. He texted me a bit ago, said he had a chance to pull some overtime, so he might be home late. And Kenna and Bill went to the park with Mrs. Murphy's kids. They should be back around five, she said. And Dad's at work, of course."

"Good. I have a chance to talk to you alone." Her mother guided her to the living room and sat her down on the couch. "The new priest is here."

Brittany swallowed, and her heart sped up, thumping against her ribs. "Really? What's he...what's he like?"

"Young," her mother smiled, with a faintly predatory expression. "Good-looking, too, in a bookish kind of way. Dark hair, brown eyes. Good skin. Decent body. He could be taller, but you can't have everything."

"Oh." She closed her eyes, hoping. "And is he...isn't he...do you think that he will work out? That he can be the one?"

Megan Murray shrugged, her eyes pensive. "You never know. Maybe. At the very least, he didn't seem to be a bitter old fart like the last three priests that Bishop Whitford sent down here."

Brittany shuddered, remembering nasty old Father Cobden. She knew it wasn't very nice of her, but it would have been really hard to complete the rite with him. The old man had a mouth like a prune, and seemed to disapprove of the entire world and everything in it. "Oh, I hope so. I've been having the dreams again, Mom. I don't know how much longer I will be able to wait."

"Wait for what?" her sister Sabrina said, thumping down the stairs like a herd of elephants. She was dressed in a pair of sheer pink panties and a crop-top t-shirt that barely covered her bouncing breasts. "To lose your cherry, Brittany?" The younger girl laughed. "I'm glad I didn't. Wally gives me what I need every time we can get together. Sometimes twice."

Her mother smiled indulgently at her middle child, while Brittany silently fumed. It totally wasn't fair. Sabrina was only sixteen, and getting laid all the time. Meanwhile, Brittany was eighteen and still a virgin. And her sister seemed to be well on her way to getting a simply world-class pair of tits, while Brittany had to settle for a modest pair of c-cups, though the boys she had dated hadn't seemed to mind how she looked.

Of course, she had chosen this for herself. Her mother had explained it all to her, very carefully, when she turned thirteen. And to her sister a few years later. Teenage girls at St. Catherine's had a choice. They could lose their virginities when they chose. Or they could wait, sacrificing their maidenhood in the ritual which ensured the good health, prosperity, and fertility of the town. It was a rite as old as mankind, though one that had become vanishingly rare these days, when science had taken the place of faith in the minds of most people, and even those who believed in God didn't really think that religion could truly have the kind of effect they sought.

Brittany had been fascinated by the idea, and had vowed to save herself for kind, gentle Father Snodgrass. But the older man had retired last fall, before it was her turn to be chosen. Secretly, her mother had told her that the true reason for his retirement was that he could not complete the rite any longer, due to the diminishing effects of his age. Since then, three priests had made their way through Fertile Valley, all of them completely inappropriate for the combination of pagan ritual and true faith in God that Megan Murray and the other women who truly ran St. Catherine's demanded. As far as Brittany knew, the three priests had never even been told about the rituals, let alone given the opportunity to participate.

She ignored her sister's smirk haughtily. "God, I hope he's the one." She swallowed. "Mom? What will we do if he isn't? We've already missed three rites in a row. And Midsummer is less than a month away."

"Three rites, you're out?" Haley snickered.

"Hush, Sabrina," her mother said absently. "Honestly, Brittany, I don't know what we'll do." Megan frowned uneasily and sighed. "It doesn't have to be the parish priest, true. But things were easier in the old days, when people here were closer to the land. It could be any male in a position of authority, really. Even the mayor. Or chief of police. But the mayor is Lutheran, conservative-"

"And a woman," Sabrina put in with a naughty grin. "Though I guess she could use a strap-on, if you really needed to."

Brittany turned up her nose and ignored her. "And a woman," Megan agreed with a shrug. "And I wouldn't let Chief Riggins get within twenty yards of you. The man is a pig. I knew him in high school, and he hasn't changed a bit since. And the other churches might have some suspicions about what we do. But they're not going to participate either.

"But don't worry, sweetie. There's time. Fertile Valley won't turn into a dust-bowl overnight, just because we've missed a rite or two. Magic..." she paused. "We've been doing this rite for so long, with so many different vessels, that it's got a momentum all its own, like a great big old freight train. True. If we don't get our butts in gear, in time we'll probably start to slow down. And in five or ten years, we might stop altogether, and it would need one hell of a push to get things moving again."

She drummed her fingers on the arm of the couch, her eyes dark with thought. "We're going to be having a potluck Saturday evening. To introduce him to the congregation. Though I'm going to be making sure that it's the important people who come. And their daughters," she hinted. "But if you truly want this, Brittany, I think you should call up some of your friends."

She blinked. "My friends? Oh! I get it! And then I can meet him!"

"Knock knock!" a hearty voice said. "Anyone home?"

"Daddy!" Sabrina said, and flew to the doorway, where their father's figure loomed like a cheerful, friendly bear. She gave him a hug. "You're home!"

"Obviously." He frowned down at her. "Sabrina Ursula Murray. Put some clothes on."

"I've got clothes on."

"Those aren't clothes. They're a potential indecent exposure charge. Herne the Hunter save us, Sabrina. Try to wear something that covers your chest, why don't you?"

"I can't help it, Daddy. They just keep getting bigger. See?" She arched her back proudly, making her chest swell and a glimpse of underboob flash out from under the ragged edge of her shirt.

Unamused, Dale Murray pointed upstairs. "Clothes. Now."

"Fine." Pouting, she stomped upstairs.

"That girl will be the death of me," her father sighed, settling down on a chair. "Brittany, get your poor old father some iced tea, would you?"

"Sure." She scampered to the kitchen and came back with a full glass.

"Thanks, honey." He took a long sip. "Ah, that hits the spot. I was up at the top of a grain silo all afternoon. I can still taste the dust."

"Poor man." Her mother's quick smile flickered. "If you take a shower and clean up, I'll give you an extra-special treat tonight."

"I don't smell dinner," he countered. "Why can't I get my treat right now?" His strong arms, bunched and corded with muscle from years of working outdoors, lifted his wife and set her in his lap. He nuzzled her throat, and she shut her eyes.

"Brittany?" she said, her voice an octave higher than it had been a few moments earlier. "Can you start on dinner, honey? I'm kind of...busy right now."

"Jesus." She shook her head as she headed towards the kitchen. "Get a room."

*****

The next day was overcast, with a hovering pall of gray clouds and an annoying drizzle of rain that came down in spits and spats. It took Brittany almost all morning to get hold of her friends, and by the time she got on her bike for the short ride to the church, it was after lunch.

"Hey there, FBFF!" a voice called as she was locking the bike up at the side entrance of the church.

Brittany turned just in time to catch her Forever Best Friend Forever's hug. "Hi, Haley." She raised her eyebrows at her outfit. "Whoa. Showing a lot of leg there, girl. Did your shorts get hit by a lawnmower? Or are you wearing denim panties?"

"Uh huh." The dark-haired girl grinned and ran a hand up Brittany's side. Her breath caught in her throat as her fingertips slid over the side of her breast. "No bra? I thought so. It looks like I'm not the only one who wants to catch his eye."

"You never have a second chance to make a first impression," Brittany intoned virtuously, then giggled. "Besides," she said, lowering her voice. "Mom saw Father Kelly yesterday, and said he was hella cute!"

"Like your mom would ever say something like that."

"We-ell," she drawled as they walked into the church. "She didn't actually say it. But that's what she meant.

"So," she added, "are you still having the dreams?"

Haley nodded, her face going distant. "Just a few nights ago." She shivered. "God, it was hot. Just me. And him. Though I still haven't seen his face. I woke up and Jesus, Brit, I was so wet. It was crazy. I pulled my panties off and rubbed one out right there in bed. It almost makes up for the fact that I'm a virgin." She made a face. "Almost."

Brittany made a low noise of agreement. Although, for her, the dreams had become an almost nightly occurrence. She and Haley had been best friends almost since before they could walk. Their birthdays were only a few weeks apart, and they had graduated high school together barely a week ago. She just hoped that when the time came for Father Kelly to choose one of them, it didn't destroy their friendship.

Though he could choose Haley the next time, if she doesn't sleep with some guy when she goes away to college. Maybe at Samhain. And it would fit, really. With that black hair of hers, and those long legs, she'd be like the sexiest, sluttiest Halloween witch ever. The thought made her a little excited, to be honest. She wasn't lesbian. But she and Haley had fooled around, once or twice, on sleepovers. And she knew that the long-legged teen would go off like a firecracker with the right man.

Maybe even the right man and the right woman at the same time, she thought, and shivered happily.

Side by side, they entered the church, to find a dozen members of the choir already there. She said hello, then looked around. "So. Has anyone seen him yet?"

Molly, only fourteen years old, shook her head. "No. We..." she looked around the circle and lowered her voice. "We didn't want to bother him. You know what a grump old Father Cobden was. And Father McCartney was even worse. It's like he didn't even want people in church, unless they were putting money in the collection plate on Sunday."

"All right." She nodded firmly. "We all know why we're here. So let's make sure he gets a good look at us." She clapped her hands. "Up to the choir loft, ladies! It's time to practice!"

*****

Justin was in his office when the first haunting strains of music seeped through the door.

He cocked his head, drawn out of his perusal of St. Catherine's financial records. To be honest, though, there wasn't much to look at. Like the town, the church seemed to be quietly prosperous, though the amount of money coming in had been trending down over the last several months. It hadn't been hard for Justin to tie the decline to the corresponding slump in church attendance. And from what Bishop Whitford had told him, all of that could be laid at the feet of the three failed interim priests.

Well, he thought, as he closed out of the bookkeeping software on the computer. I'll just have to make sure that they come back. It shouldn't be too hard. From the way Mrs. Murray was talking yesterday, it seemed that Cobden and the rest were doing just about everything they could to alienate people.

He stretched in his seat, raising his arms above his head and then dropping them to his lap. So far, he couldn't have asked for more from his new parish. He had been quietly stunned when he had looked in the kitchen the night before and had discovered that the refrigerator and the pantry had been stocked with practically everything he needed. Canned soup, fruits and vegetables, milk and juice and cheese. Even a generous sampling of hamburger, chicken, and steaks had been neatly stacked in the freezer. Instead of having to eat his first meal alone in a diner, he had whipped up a supper for himself and had a fantastic night's sleep. Even his new bed was bigger and more comfortable than his old one at Mundelein, and he had woken up feeling refreshed and ready for the challenge of his first day on the job.

The first song stopped, and another began, the notes clear and pure. "Holy, Holy, Holy," followed by "Soul of My Savior," and then "Ave Maria." He blinked, impressed. The voices were singing the hymn in the original Latin, and the ancient notes echoed through the old church like chimes from a carillon.

He got up and entered the nave, looking up towards the choir loft. Maybe fifteen teenage girls were there, dressed casually. In some cases, very casually, he noted with a small frown. One tall girl hardly seemed to be wearing shorts at all. But the music coming from them was lovely. Not perfect, of course. He winced at a sour note. But the faces of most of the young women were rapt with a concentration you didn't often see in larger choirs, where faith had been crowded out by pride.

The last notes of the song faded away, and he clapped. Eyes popped open, looking down at him.

"Bravo, ladies. Well done," he smiled.

"Oh!" A young woman, with tan skin and hair of a tumbling reddish-blonde, put her hand to her mouth. "Are you...Father Kelly?"

"That's what it says on my diploma," he said easily. He heard his own words and grimaced, hoping he didn't sound to pompous. "But you can call me Father Justin. Or even just plain Justin. Why don't you come down so I can say hello?"

"Or you could come up," a young lady murmured. "Come way up."

Her companions shushed her, and the entire group trooped down to ground level.

"Is this all of you?" he asked. "The entire choir?"

The tall, slim, black-haired girl, with shorts that were barely a denim accent around her trim waist, nodded respectfully. "Yes, Father Justin."

"You're awfully young, aren't you? Aren't there any older women in the choir? Or are they all too busy with work and kids and stuff?"

"Oh, no. Not too busy." A couple of muffled snickers broke out in the ranks. "They're just...not right anymore."

"Not right?" He blinked.

"Well," a tiny girl who couldn't be more than fifteen said, in a tone of puzzled reason. "It's hard to be part of an all-virgin choir when you're not a virgin, isn't it?"

The blood ran out of his face. "A what?"

"Kenzie!" Half the choir turned on the pocket-sized brunette.

"Oops." The young girl bit her lip, then glanced around the circle. "Was he not supposed to know?"

The taller girl turned to Justin. "Don't get upset, Father. Please?" She raised her eyes to his, pleading. "It's traditional here. St. Catherine's has always had a choir of virgin girls. A group of young women, chaste and pure, to better speed our songs and prayers to our blessed mother Mary. And to her Son as well, of course." She crossed herself piously, and the rest of the girls followed suit.

Justin blinked. "I'm not upset," he said slowly. "Just...surprised." He smiled, trying to set the group of young ladies at ease. "How do you...you know?"

The red-headed girl seemed to sense what he was asking. "Know if a girl shouldn't be in the choir anymore?"

He nodded, and she smiled shyly up at him. "We mostly do it by the honor system, Father Kelly. But Fertile Valley isn't very big. Word gets around. If a woman abandons her chastity, people generally know."

"Wish I could abandon mine," came a mutter from the back of the group. "For two cents, I'd do it right now!"

Justin pretended he hadn't heard the remark. They were just girls, after all. And teenage girls at that, who sometimes tended to be a bit...silly. His glance fell on the tall brunette, who seemed to be one of the leaders of the group. "How about you introduce me around?" he suggested.

To his relief, she did, though the chorus of names threatened to spill out of his head and splash on the floor. Haley and Brittany and Molly. Kenzie and Katrina and Morgan and Lisa. Bailey and Elena and DeeDee and Adrienne and Chloe and Faith. He solemnly shook hands with each of them and said how much he enjoyed their music.

"Well," he said, backing away with a wave of his hand. "I'll let you guys get back to your practice. But I'll see you all on Sunday, right?"

"Yes, Father Justin," they chorused, and went back up the stairs to the choir loft. As he walked back to the office, the notes of another song caught up to him, and he found himself almost unconsciously walking in time to the beat of the hymn.

Once back in his office, he fired off an e-mail to the members of the various church board committees, asking their input about when the next meetings would be held, so he could attend and get a feel for how they went about their business. Then he worked on his homily for Sunday mass, now only two days away. He had said his first mass earlier that morning, but it had been sparsely attended, and he thought that news of his arrival was still filtering through the community. Sunday would be the first day that people in town would be able to get a look at him as a priest, and he wanted to make a good impression.