#11
Agustin was listening. He couldn't help overhearing… and he wasn't able to move from there. Yes, he knew he should have moved, but he simply couldn't. He heard everything. Her words were clearer and more explicit than the wildest of his dreams when younger. He had been told that the devil tempted a man in his sleep, but there was no sin as long as the man didn't do anything consciously – think, speak, or, worst of all, do anything sinful. Dreams weren't exactly sins if no coherent thought had preceded, nor followed them; just something which might have led to sin if not praying and not using a tight discipline of mind.

Now yes, he was sinning by allowing himself to listen and his mind, running wild, envisaged in detail things he had never dared to imagine before. His breath nearly stopped, not to lose any word. Pearls of sweat were running on his face, and he felt unusually hot, as if it was mid July now. His heartbeats grew so loud and so quick that he almost didn't hear her words anymore, but it was too late, his imagination was already replacing them with vivid images, until… something embarrassing happened. Of course, this was between him and God only. Nothing to be noticed. And the Devil, most likely, laughing madly in silence on his left shoulder and thinking that he had him in his clutch forever now. But did he? Was this human weakness a sign that he was doomed? A man of God didn't become suddenly marked by the stigmat of sin, to be known by people that he had fallen out of divine grace.

Fathers. She knew he was there. She knew he was listening. She had looked at him before entering the confessional. It was him she was talking about… And she was still half inocent, as she knew he was devoted to God and she didn't hope anything. Then why…? Could she be a tool of the Devil, into sinking him?

This time he was the one who sighed, not knowing what to think and what to do anymore.
word count: 362

#12
No, please… Stop!

The sensation prevailed; that of the linen texture kneading his most savory part, and for the second time, Giuseppe moaned in pleasure. His breath slowly started becoming irregular and raspy, the more tension grew within his body - and his heart nearly stopped once the woman grew silent on the other end. A part of him wished he was brave enough to speak. He might yet save himself, if only he could yell out his resentment toward the sin! Do you ‘really?’ whispered the devil into his ear. Do you really resent what she’s doing with you? The priest nodded, trying to summon his recollection of scriptures read long ago; only to come up blank.

But perhaps her silence meant the end of her confession. If he was lucky, the fallen angel was merely awaiting his response, at this point.
Now he just had to -- Ah, no! The girl had only stopped to catch her breath, while Padre Giuseppe anxiously held his.

Again her honey-coated voice spun a tale beyond his imagination; her words lingering wistfully upon details he had never dared to explore, not even while he, as a young seminary, had been alone in his chamber. Because when had the young man ever been truly alone, without God looking out for him? The Lord had protected him quite effectively against sin, as had his elder Brothers, and mentors in the monastery - until now.

Every touch she described etched themselves into his skin, as if he really experienced her kisses; so gentle at first, before the hunger carried them both away. The fire engulfed him, too, and his body trembled. God, have mercy on us both! What had he got himself into!? She had named hers “a fire only he could put out.” Then what had he to look forward to, but an insatiable heat, forever to reside here, within his body..?

A man might go mad for less!

The man reached feverishly for the woman; seeking the end of her dream, while he squirmed like a worm on the hook. He whimpered, now - responding inevitably to the accumulated pressure centered at his thighs. The walls at least saved him from the public humiliation, though God still witnessed his immorality happen; and wasn’t that bad enough? The devil sniggered behind his back, as the cleric hid his face behind his palm

“What in the world am I to do?”

The question echoed within his aching conscience, and though he cleared his throat to speak without waiting, his wording remained ambiguous, as if he was himself doubtful of the way ahead.

“You must open your heart for God’s salvation, my child. Allow him to step in, and help cleanse your soul from these...emotions. It is no sin to love another being, nor did you call upon these dreams to haunt you each night - but the devil is feasting upon our weakness. We must not hesitate, dear child. Please do say three Hail Mary’s at your earliest convenience, and call on me in the morning.
word count: 512
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#13
From her place in the confessional Michela had a good clear view to two places where priests were hidden right now. One of them in the other room of the confessionals, the other man hidden behind a pillar. Perhaps they did not take into consideration that the shape of the church ceilings carried echoes very well, and she could hear two men moaning in pleasure as she delivered her confession.

She bubbled with laughter inwardly, wondering if she had managed to bring them to stain their pants yet. If she had - what would they do about it? She had a feeling that it could be amusing showing up for church masses for a while now. Just to see how her little prank worked on the priests. And of course she would wear her dresses low-cut like always when she knelt in prayer before the altar.

Bad Michela! She thought. You shouldn’t tease men living in celibacy like this!

But it is so fun…. a thought escaped the back of her mind. Just look at them!

Michela looked, and she had to admit, this was fun!

She heard the shallow breath of the priest beside her, and she wondered if the one hiding in the shadow also felt like this… She tried to see him behind the pillar, and she got a short glimpse of him as he frantically did a cross sign. Did he really think that would help from a fire burning in his loins?

She allowed the two men to recover a bit, hiding her face in the handkerchief to stifle her laughter at the men’s reactions.

Men…. so easy - so simple to lead…..

“You must open your heart for God’s salvation, my child. Allow him to step in, and help cleanse your soul from these...emotions. It is no sin to love another being, nor did you call upon these dreams to haunt you each night - but the devil is feasting upon our weakness. We must not hesitate, dear child. Please do say three Hail Mary’s at your earliest convenience, and call on me in the morning.”

Putting on her most angelic face expression again, she leaned towards the window where the priest was sitting and listening to her confession. This time she leaned in so close that their faces were almost touching - also giving him a glimpse of her cleavage since he had not been at the altar like the other priest who now was hiding in the shadows. She looked into his eyes with big, brown doe eyes and smiled, her lips only inches from touching his.

“Thank you, Fathers,” she said. “You have relieved me of an immense burden… I shall say my prayers before I leave the Church and I shall return again tomorrow…”

She pulled away again before he could react, opening the door to the confessional and making her way towards the altar. Once more she knelt down in prayer, making sure to lean forwards enough to let also Father Agustin have a look at her cleavage again. After her burning confession she would be surprised if he didn’t look. Unless he now had fled and was hiding in the Church somewhere....

3 Hail Mary’s later she stood up and started walking…. in the wrong direction. It didn’t take long before she “accidentally” bumped into the other priest - the one she had met when she first came in. She blushed deeply when she saw him, her eyes looking pleadingly into his. It was as if she silently begged forgiveness for confessing her love so openly - the same gaze she had sent Padre Giuseppe before she left the confessional.

<a href='index.php?showuser=89' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Giuseppe Alessandri</a> <a href='index.php?showuser=87' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Agustin Barbaro</a>
word count: 653

#14
Yes, Agustin had enough faith in God in order to believe that a sign of the cross would protect him from anything. From temptation as well as any other kind of evil. She had received her penance and Father Giuseppe's words of wisdom. He was better than Agustin. More gifted. More immune to temptation. &#8230;Well, but Giuseppe wasn't the one whom the lady was dreaming about! Agustin was, and it felt&#8230; differently.

She was praying, and he couldn't move, mesmerized by her beauty and piety at the same time. When she stood up, finishing the prayers, he decided it was time for him to go away too. However, despite trying to go in the opposite direction than she should have, fate (not to say the Devil or&#8230; who else arranged things) made her bump into him. Instinctively, his hands went to her arms, to make sure she was steady in balance and not falling. And her pleading eyes&#8230; eyes of precious amber&#8230;

"May God protect me and forgive me!" Agustin thought, but the only thing he could ask, with a trembling voice, was:

"Are you all right?"

<a href='index.php?showuser=83' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Morrighan</a> <a href='index.php?showuser=85' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Silvertongue</a>
word count: 231

#15
Michela did not notice that Father Agustin was looking at her from his place in the shadows - she only hoped he was. She did not know if the priest in the confessional was looking either, or if he needed a moment to cool down after her confession. She chuckled inwardly when she prayed, hoping the Holy Virgin also had a sense of humor.

When she was done praying (and at the same time regaining control over herself so she wouldn’t ruin her prank by bursting out laughing) she crossed herself and backed away from the altar.

When she later (on purpose) bumped into Father Agustin, she blushed as his hands went to her arms, and she lifted her gaze to look into his eyes, drowning herself in his gaze.

“I am now….” she said softly as she kept looking pleadingly up at him. “Are…. are you angry with me?”

The seemingly innocent question had a double meaning. It could mean: was he angry because she dumped into him like this? But it could also mean: was he angry with her for confessing her feelings for him so openly…..

<a href='index.php?showuser=87' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Agustin Barbaro</a> <a href='index.php?showuser=89' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Giuseppe Alessandri</a>
word count: 227

#16
He could get easily lost in her gaze. Lost as in ready to forget his next phrase. Fra'Agustin, who had a witty reply to everything possible, now he had misplaced all the answers. At least she was all right. And asking if he was angry with her... as if he could ever be.

"I am surely not. Because you couldn't help it. It can't be your fault," he said, understanding both angles of the question and being convinced he had replied them both.

Of course a priest would have said it was her fault that she had allowed impure thoughts to haunt her. But he couldn't. From the victim's part, she was forgiven. The pleading with God had yet to follow. He had all night for this. It wasn't as if he could fall asleep anymore after such a&#8230; well, such an&#8230; image in his mind.

<div align="center"> - Agustin and Michela's story continues <a href='http://mementomori1792.jcink.net/index. ... wtopic=615' rel='nofollow noopener' target='_blank'>here</a> - </div>
word count: 180

#17
Michela looked up at the Priest in front of her with an innocent face expression, giggling inwardly by the effects her face expressions, a little flirting and discreet use of perfume could have on a man. She had just made up a big lie in a church, telling a story that caused two Priests - and surely also a whole lot of Saints - to gasp. And then the poor, innocent Priest in front of her said it could not be her fault?

A smile of relief appeared on her face when he assured her that he was not angry with her. “You are too kind, Father,” she said - and meant it. It was really too kind of him to not be angered after the mischief she just had caused in a Church. She had a feeling that there was a special place in Hell for someone like her….

She was well aware that she could have been blamed for having allowed impure thoughts to haunt her - and she could only guess what they would say if they knew that she was a Courtesan. But Michela did not intend to give that away. She would let them live in the illusion that they were looking at an innocent little virgin for now…. They would learn - eventually….

She wondered if the other Priest had fainted in the confessional, or if he was just playing with his holy rod after her little confession…..

<a href='index.php?showuser=87' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Agustin Barbaro</a> <a href='index.php?showuser=89' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Giuseppe Alessandri</a>
word count: 277

#18
Words were powerful - had his mentors never told him so? Hadn’t he been taught time and again how the Lord created the Heavens, and the Earth below. “In the beginning there was the Word.” Since then, the universe had expanded, and mankind had seen the rise and fall of ancient civilizations. Battles had been won, and walls had been torn apart - not by swords and mighty weapons, as much as by an eloquent tongue. Alternatively, those battles had been lost, depending on your perspective; but the result remained unchanged. In the end, the whole world was begun and changed by words.

And how strange was it. Just a simple intonation could create such a hole in his heart - whereas minutes ago, he never knew such strong emotions existed. He might find it a cruel temptation, but as the circumstances had lead him into the confessionary at the [s]right[/s] wrong time, could he even imagine how he failed so vehemently until now, to spot her angelic features among regular visitors? She had stood out like a delicate rose among thistles. Giuseppe sighed. Her smooth skin, though he could not verify the notion, looked softer than a flower’s petals; and he yearned for even the lightest touch from her hand. Alas, no!

“Thank you fathers,” the young lady spoke to him again, but her words were barely comprehensible through the thick fog clasping around his mind as she drew closer. Their faces almost touching one another, the priest told himself to look away - yet his eyes remained glued upon her rose-colored lips, and her soft cushion being pushed his way. His heart hammered as though he had run a miles-long distance, and just now staggered past the finish line; his body aching from the physical endeavour.

“Peace be upon you, dear child,” he gulped, trying to regain control of himself, before she noticed how troubled he was. Though she must have noticed, indeed. She quickly turned away, leaving him alone with only a delirious daydream and his conscience screaming at him from afar. Ah, but come on! You know you want her naked in your arms, implored the devil, sniggering again behind his back. Yes, yes, I want her - God forgive me, if only just once… Just this once, and I shall never sin against you, again! Only she can put this fire out - she said so herself! Perhaps this way Giuseppe could help himself, and the poor girl whose dreams tormented her so. Please…

He prayed until he was certain he could leave the confessionary without distress; nor a fear of being found a less pious man then the rest of them. Nobody needed knowing he was a fallen man, but himself. And God! Did you already forget, bible boy? He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake! - Yes ‘thank you!’ Clearly, he was still at war with himself. Nonetheless he gingerly stepped out into the bright midwinter sun sparkling against the white marbled walls; hoping somehow he could find peace here among the grand pillars, where ornate decorations overlooked the presence of God’s children within His palace. However, the pale stone resounded her voice engaged in conversation, and his heart promptly sank to the bottom of his being. Giuseppe turned around, slowly; though he didn’t have to see the man who kept company with the bewitching angel to know who he was - he knew his voice well enough after all these years. Agustin!

The realization struck him like an arrow to the heart, for reasons he could not properly explain; or downright refused to. The young lady never stated who had caused her so many tormented dreams, apart from saying he was a priest - thus leading Giuseppe to believe she was obliquely professing her tender feelings for him. But given her layman point of view, the description would fit as much on the likes of Agustin, though the man had not yet been fully ordained. It was just so hard to swallow, so confusing to endure. Her words had changed him too much…

<div align="center">THE END <span style='font-size:8pt;line-height:100%'>..or is it?</span>
I see Agustin having fun <a href='http://mementomori1792.jcink.net/index. ... =615&st=0/' rel='nofollow noopener' target='_blank'>here</a>
However, you may also click <a href='http://mementomori1792.jcink.net/index. ... entry5059/' rel='nofollow noopener' target='_blank'>here</a> </div>
word count: 746
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