Dark Side of the Cloth by Brooklyn Cross

Dean made his way up the stairs and adjusted himself before he stepped outside. It wouldn’t do for anyone out on the street to see he was sporting a hard-on. It didn’t seem to matter why he needed to speak to the beautiful Yasmine because all he could think about when he was around her was getting between her legs. Today had been exceptionally difficult. He could have sworn he smelled the alluring scent of sex, and the image of laying her out on that metal table she used to prepare the dead was vivid in his mind. Morbid and yet so hot.

Fuck he needed to refocus. He yanked open the rusting BMW’s door and slipped behind the wheel. The motor of the older car groaned and sputtered as it tried to turn over, finally giving way and firing to life. Dean waved to a few people, plastering his ‘I’m a wonderful priest and love you all’ smile on his face as he drove down the street towards the church.

As he pulled into the church’s parking lot, he noticed a man standing on the top step. He enthusiastically waved at Dean.

“Shit,” Dean grumbled. He really didn’t want to have another useless heart to heart with one of the local parishioners today. The man was already walking toward his car before Dean had it backed into the designated space. Sucking in a deep breath, he smiled and stepped out of the car.

“Father, I’m sorry to bother you, but I was hoping I could speak to you privately.” The man twisted his hat in his hands, his eyes darting from side to side.

Dean was all too aware of the many signs people gave when they felt guilty. Maybe this wouldn’t be as horrible as he thought it would. He could use a new victim. “Of course, my child, come on inside out of the cold.”

“My name is Tim.”

Dean really didn’t give a shit what the man’s name was but nodded as he held open the large wooden door to the church. “Tim, why don’t you have a seat in the confessional. I will hang up my jacket and be right there.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Dean shook off the thin layer of damp snow, rubbing his hair and watching the droplets fly. He loved winter. He hadn’t seen snow as a child, and when he joined the Army, he was stationed in the hottest fucking hell hole they could find. Now that he was in a place that did get snow, he was in love with the cold and white precipitation.

Reaching into the long robe, he pulled out his special little black book and a pen, just in case this ended up being a good one. He pulled the heavy, velvet curtain closed and made himself comfortable.

“You may begin.”

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three years since my last confession.”

“That is okay, my son. Tell me what you would like to confess. God is here to forgive you.”

“I have had impure thoughts,” Tim said and then fell silent.

“It is fine, my son. You may continue. This is a safe place.” Dean rolled his eyes but sat up straight as Tim spoke again.

“My impure thoughts are hard to control, I…I touched a little girl again.”

A wicked smile spread across Dean’s face. “Please continue.”

“I have always had a hard time around little girls. I have tried to be good, I really have, but a friend of mine that I hadn’t seen in a long time came to visit, and he brought his daughter with him. She was so beautiful, so perfect with her cherub features and pigtails that had these little bobbles in them. She ran over to me and…I just couldn’t stop myself.”

“Did you touch her inappropriately?” Dean asked, already knowing the answer, but wanted the confirmation from the horse’s mouth.

“Yes.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Oh God, help me, I did. Her little lace panties were soft, and she giggled when I tickled her on her private areas.”

“Did you do anything more than that?”

“No, her father would have noticed, but I felt that I needed to confess before I did anything more. I wanted to stop myself before I saved another little girl. I know it’s wrong, yet it feels so right.”

“I’m sorry, son, I don’t know what you mean.”

Heavy breathing from the other booth was the only response he received. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Oh Father, I have…I have killed before.” A sharp sob reached his ears as Dean wrote Tim’s name and drew a line through it. Tim may not know it yet, but he had just found himself on Dean’s naughty list.

“How many times?”

“Six and I enjoyed it…I saved those girls.”

Dean squeezed the pen tight and so badly wanted to stab it through Tim’s eye, but instead, he said what he knew this man wanted to hear. What they all came in here wanting to hear. “It’s alright, my son. The Lord forgives you.”

He snapped the wooden plank shut and stood, pulling open the curtain. Tim emerged a moment later. His eyes averted to the ground.

“I wasn’t done my confession,” Tim mumbled.

“I think that is enough confession for today. We will have you come back again.” Tim nodded, his body shaking slightly, and Dean wasn’t sure if it was from fear or excitement. “Tim, you don’t seem to be in any shape to drive. Why don’t I take you home?”

“You don’t hate me?” His head lifted to look Dean in the eyes.

“No, my son, God doesn’t hate any of his children. We will work to keep you on the path of righteousness. Today was a good step, but let’s not overdo it.” Dean laid his hand on the man’s shoulder and offered a smile that he hoped came off warm and inviting.

“Thank you, Father. That would be very kind of you.”

Dean followed Tim, his mind dancing with all the ways he planned on making this man pay. Oh yes, this man was most certainly going to pay. The only question became, when?