The Vicar of St. Dunstan's Ep. 21

It was chilly that night in the cemetery under the bright full moon, so Barbara and I cuddled for a while fully clothed before she went between my legs to fellatiate me. As I approached the fountain stage, she pulled off to stroke me, sending my white shower upon the earth once again. "I don't want Mother Mary Athanasius to think she was only good enough for a one night stand," Barbara murmured, as she coaxed the last few drops, licking them off my corona like an ice cream cone, then engulfing the head with a satisfied hum.

After putting my manhood back in my track suit, she asked: "Squirt still giving you trouble?"

Who's Squirt?

"Your little troublemaker."

Oh, is Squirt her nickname here?

"Oh yes. Fits her, doesn't it?"

Sure, Red. Anything you say. No problems today. She has been giving me updates about who's sleeping with who. George is sleeping his way around the Deanery, the Bishop's been holding court for the Sisterhood, Artie's hiding out from Tommy with the postulants, and Miriam and I are the only ones sleeping alone.

Giving me a tweak between the legs, she asked sweetly: "Who says you've been celibate this week?"

I mean sharing a bed, literally sleeping. Never said I wasn't getting any.

"No, you couldn't say that. I passed through your wing before coming over here; George's voice was coming from Edwina's room, but everybody else seems to be sleeping in their own beds tonight. Guess your group is too old for extended debauchery." I punched her arm for that remark. "Present company excepted. Are you interested in our little Squirt?"

She's a lot of fun to be around, but I think I can sleep with only one nun at a time. Maybe she could be the teenage daughter I never had.

Barbara laughed. "Well, she grew up with a single mother, adopted in infancy. She's very dear to me in ways I can't explain. If you want to be a platonic friend with her, a male mentor, that's fine with me. She needs some healthy interaction with men."

Something in her past I don't know about? I think I can guess.

"Oh yes, like me, she was a spoiled, rich kid and slept around. Had a catastrophe on a student trip, was stranded in a foreign country with no friends, couldn't speak the language, no one knew Sign. Frightened to death, she was; some Greek nuns took her in and opened her eyes to the deeper Meaning of Life. After she came home, she spent a lot of time at youth retreats and stayed here a few weekends, and now she's made Simple Vows. If she stays with us, she'll be like St. Francis Xavier, a maniac with a mission who won't be able to sit still."

I stopped short and she went a step or two past me before stopping to turn around. I suddenly feel very old.

"What do you mean?"

First Kieran, then Helen. Being a father figure to young adults just getting started. Not used to being looked up to.

"Two things," came the smiling reply, "First, welcome to the club. Don't worry; after you get used to it, you'll love it and won't even miss your carefree youth. Second, don't worry. Your Quilting Ladies will help you keep your humility." I was smothered by the soft habit, and after a long open mouthed kiss, I smacked her padded butt affectionately.

That night I had a strange dream. Like the end of 2001: A Space Odyssey, I was drifting in a white cocoon around the planet Jupiter, lost in awe at the beauty of the universe. There were other cocoons around me, in slightly different orbits, some drawing close, some drawing away. Mary was a ways off and moving away slowly, Mavis was closer but imperceptibly moving off as well. Sheila was disappearing behind Jupiter's bulk, converging with a sphere too distant to make out, and for some reason, Agnes was zooming away at high speed. Barbara, in her Mother Mary Rufus habit, was circling around me like a twin, our orbits on a central axis, with Kieran and Sister Mary Francis Xavier approaching quickly. Bishop Horace and Archdeacon Tommy were jagged, pitted crags of threat that drifted by at a safe distance.

I saw the constellation Orion off to my right: my family. In the clarity of open space, all the minor stars of that constellation were clear, just we they were out on the Great Plains away from city lights. My parents were on Orion's belt, but their stars were fading, while my siblings and their children grew brighter. A force pulled me toward them, gently at first, but faster and faster: soon I was racing across the great emptiness away from Jupiter and the people in my life now.

Then the sun rolled into my path, making me incredibly hot. It pulled me by the groin; my protective coating was burned away. Just as I was about the enter the photosphere, the flames parted and I approached a huge woman lying supine, heading for her vagina at high speed. There was no sensation of heat or danger; I wondered about this. When I entered the chasm, I landed on a high spire, totally naked and erect, with an immense crowd chanting my name at its base. The feeling of distance was overwhelming, as was my response to their adulation was arousal. My testicles churned and churned, my cock was an iron bar, and soon I would ejaculate a shower over them. An invisible force pulled by erection up and down and the people chanted louder and more vigorously as I approached my climax.

My eyes flipped open and I was lying flat on my trundle bed, a dark figure sitting on my pelvis, ejaculating into a warm, dark piece of heaven that milked me effortlessly. My partner was close to her orgasm, and I stroked her dark breasts to take her over the edge. She came hard, her mouth open in ecstasy, riding the waves of passion for eternal, timeless moments until she fell down and covered my body with her own.

In my first muzziness, I thought my little tormentor had slipped in for to arrogantly claim some pleasure from me, but the hue of her skin was black in the growing pre-dawn, her body voluptuously curvaceous, and her hair was black, short, curly with a fleck or two of grey. She panted as she held me, and I recognized Miriam.

She caught her breath, sat up and noticed I was awake. It was barely light enough for me to see her hands and face. Smiling, she signed Just this once.

I shook my head and gave her a puzzled look. Signing again, she said: Just this once. I've always wondered what it would be like, to be in your arms, to hold you. I've been so empty.

I didn't know.

The smile faded. I know. I know you well enough to desire you and well enough to know that we can never be partners in life. My people are my life now, and I can never give them up. It's the same with you, though you probably don't know it. It's why your Janet had to go. That's why you can't marry one of your Quilting Ladies, you could never put her above your people. You're lucky to have their unselfish love to sustain you.

My mind was still spinning from the dream and from the shock of discovering her in my bed. Her skin was silken and hot, and I caressed her breast with my palm. She sighed and savored the feel. Thanks. I'm glad to know what loving you is like. That's enough for me.

You're welcome. It was stupid, but the best I could come up with.

She kissed me with her full lips on mine. I trust you with my son. Absolutely. After a moment's afterglow, she got up and disappeared into the spreading light, moving through my door like a whisper.

After a few moments dozing in the dawning, I cleaned up and went to Morningsong. Miriam nodded in greeting, serene and demure as ever, and the others were eager, electric to finish the retreat and talk again. My last session with my spiritual director went well, although Sister Mary Justin quipped with a gleam in her eye that she regretted she couldn't give me the same kind of direction my regular director, Mother Mary Rufus, did. As I came to the chapel to vest for the Eucharist, there was a huge row between Bishop Horace, Archdeacon Tommy, and Mother Mary Rufus. Her voice overrode them: "I'm sorry, your eminences, but we weren't expecting the amount of incense you were going to be using this week. We have more on order, but the courier won't be here until mid-afternoon. Unless you have some in your luggage, you're going to have to do without today." I fought to keep from cheering, and the gratitude in the eyes of the other when we began without it was apparent.

Mother Mary Rufus made some concluding remarks for us over lunch, and our vow of silence was lifted. The room rang with dozens of conversations at once, and Bishop Horace had to bang his walking stick on the table to get our attention for his business meeting. It was long, droll, and held no surprises, so those who bet he would announce his retirement lost.

Miriam acted as if nothing happened the night before, and Archdeacon Tommy came to pass me a note saying that Frank Crookshank and the Bishop wanted to see me before I left in the Bishop's suite. Shit.

Horace was genial as he greeted me, and I noticed a picture of his grandson sitting alone on his table; a chubby, red headed boy of fifteen months who was the spitting image of Derrick Sterns. Tommy stood off to the side with an evil smirk on his face; Frank was on the opposite side as far away from Tommy as he could be, and he was anxious. "Alfred, there's something I'd like to invite you to consider," Horace began. "For years now, you've been without a Curate, and I quite understand how you're not able to have one for the foreseeable future. We have a new program for our seminarians that we're just starting, where they'll live and do ministry in a parish while they get their education and formation. There's not a lot of Vicars that are interested in this, or parish locations that are suitable, but St. Dunstan's is close enough to the University and Seminary that your location is ideal. Now, don't worry about money: we'll provide an expense account the student's room and board, as well as a small stipend for his services to your parish."

I cleared my throat. "How long do I have to consider this?"

"Oh, till Monday."

"Who are you thinking of sending to live with me?"

"Well, there are several possibilities, but one of them is the only son of one of our Vicars, and she's asked me especially to put him at St. Dunstan's. The other possible sites are far from her posting, so as a favor to her, I though I'd put him with you. His name is Kieran Hali. Have you met him?"

"Once or twice." Time for a poker face again.

"Superb. I know you have plenty of room for him, as well as a lot of pastoral work that he can cut his teeth on. What do you say?"

I milked a thoughtful pause as long as I could, before starting slowly. "Well, I don't know, your Eminence, but I guess since he's Miriam's boy and it would be convenient for him, I imagine it will be all right if he stays with me."

He stood up and came over to clasp my hand and pat me on the back. "I'm glad you're able to help us out, my lad, very glad. We'll make the arrangements, and he can move in with you just after the first of the year. Excellent." Tommy offered his wet hand as well, and I squeezed his cold fish politely without causing too much pain. Frank looked relieved.

When I got home, I rang up Kieran on his cell phone. "All right, lad, you're in. Just got the word today. How did you manage it?"

"Well, Mum promised to go to a special conference in January as a representative of the Diocese to tell them how Horace is doing great things for immigrants around here. She hates stuff like that, and she'll have to shovel a lot of shit to them about stuff that really doesn't happen, but it was a price she was willing to pay. The Ruling Poofters downtown wanted me to be their spy, and I told them I'd pass along whatever they wanted."

"You did?"

"Oh, yes. I love John LeCarré novels, so giving them regular disinformation is going to be a lot of fun. That's if you don't mind having a double agent under your roof."

I laughed. "It's going to be fun having you around, my son."