Susanna Cox drove through rush hour traffic on the way to her first call of the day. It was clear and cold, a few dreamy clouds sailing above, and the other drivers were preoccupied with their task as seen through their windows. She wondered what her day would be like, what adventures waited for her. She was dressed professionally in a grew pantsuit in deference to her first call, Fr. Tom Albrectssen, pastor of a large suburban parish, and later she would be seeing Fr. Tom Zebedee at a parish by the coast.
Fr. Christian Farnsworth called her cell phone. "Hi Susie, how's traffic?"
"SSDD. What's my schedule like today?"
"Well, I'm surprised Tom's going for this. He has a reputation for being a workaholic, and even at clergy meetings and retreats, he's in constant contact with his office. He's plopped for level 2.5, so be good to him."
"I'm good to all my lovely boys."
"Yeah, me too. This afternoon's Tom is a different sort, very quiet and reflective. He's at level 4, so have fun. Tomorrow's meetings are level 1's, so don't wear out your arm today."
"Very funny. I'm already getting tennis elbow."
"Tennis elbow? Hand jobs are nothing like tennis."
"Kidding. How's your day?"
"Classroom visits, which will be fun; if they misbehave, I leave. Then long meetings on getting the parking lot repaved. I may need to take my Scotch intravenously this evening."
"Well, don't have too much fun. Bye."
"Bye."
Her exit arrived; Susie was able to pull away from the horde and wend her way through the subdivisions to find the parish. With a little trouble, she found it, a concrete monstrosity from the '80s. If the pastor gave her a loving tour, she would have to force a smile. Pulling into the parking lot, she rang the doorbell and was buzzed through to the office.
"Oh, yes, you're his third appointment today. 9:00. He's with the principal and vice principal right now; I'll let you know what it's done. Have a seat."
She crossed her legs and leafed through the devotional pamphlets and missionary magazines; the same as she found every place she went. The minutes crawled by, and her mouth salivated a little. Anticipating the feel of a soft, fragrant cock in her mouth always made her tingle. 9:15 passed, followed by 9:30 and 9:45 before a buzz from the inner sanctum signaled her admission.
Fr. Tom Albrechtssen was a tall man in his early 50's, with a clean shaven head, a small stomach pauch, and ears that stuck out dramatically from his head. His hands were soft and his fingers long, and well groomed. He led her down a long hallway to a huge office at the end of the hallway. It was rather ordinary: double sized with rather functional furniture and chairs, a table with six seats for small meetings, and a huge, antique desk in front of a bookcase full of dusty tomes.
"Now, Ms. Cox, if you would get under the desk." He spoke with a calm, business like tone, as if he were asking for more information from a financial report.
"What?"
He shook his head. "I believe the arrangement is for oral sex ending in orgasm. It is something I have had great difficulty finding in my life, but have always dreamed of receiving. You are agreeable, so please, Ms. Cox, I await your availability. If you would please get under the desk."
"I thought. . .you might like. . .some. . .foreplay."
He shook his head again. "I have been ready since the arrangement was made; it took all my self control not to masturbate for the past three days. The idea of your soft and inviting mouth around my member is something that even now leaves me breathless."
