This is part two of Chapter 1 from The Magdalene, a Gothic Erotic novel. Please read The Magdalene Ch. 01: Lavender first to fully appreciate this installment.
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He gently slips to the dusty floorboards, lowering me to my feet, pulling out of me. I won't lift my gaze off him, but I penetrate harder into his soul.
For me, on the other side of the vision, a cold spire pierces through the spinal cord in the back of my neck, chilling and weakening. A sickly haze like heatstroke on a frosty day.
I hold my thoughts, switching them off while the Divine power works through me. When I was younger my mind would interfere, muddling the revelation coming through. But now I am well practiced at keeping my mind clear of any distractions--over ten thousand, if counting--though, this priest is requiring a little effort from me to keep my thoughts under control. He has affected me more than I'd like... I'm wondering about him. I
am
human after all.
It is taking longer than usual----the Light passing through me is consuming my strength, but the priest hasn't succumbed to its power. Most would become a pool of groveling jelly by now. He holds himself up by his own might. I've never seen that before. There is always a first, isn't there?
Then suddenly, I'm drawn into the warmth of his eyes and the world within him opens up to me. I see the magnitude, the brightness of his celestial body. It's beyond my understanding, but I see it, experience it with my own body. I fall into the deepest awe...
The urge for me to blink is too strong to resist. I press my lashes down, soothing my eyes from the late night air. The power in me withdraws; the vision-chills pull away from my spine.
It is done, and I'm left with a sense that I've just forgotten a most important thing.
I gather my clothes and shoes into my arms. It's a long drive back to Florence, and I must be on a plane for New York in the morning.
It should be easy to walk away from the priest, leaving him to recover on the floor, but I turn back to look at him one last time. I can't help the smile escaping my lips evoked by the soothing pleasure still lingering in my frame. No man has been able to give me such a high in a very long time.
I almost miss him already.
But as I look upon him, the way his naked body is slumped, sucking in the air, I see there is something more to him. It could be his tattoos that have caught my eye, the way they shape around the contours of his back----I've always liked a painted man... But no, it's something else. And it will plague me until I figure out what it is.
I indulge in one last contented sigh, and I am gone.
Heading down the stairs, I keep to the walls, around and around. Before entering the church hall, I step back under the staircase, out of the light. The priest's silky cum married to my wetness spills out onto my thigh. The thought of him still between my legs elicits an irreverent flutter through my center. By the pad of my pointer, I stop our lust running away from me down my leg.
I just need one taste of him.
I slip my finger in my mouth and suck off our sex. It is too good. The smell of us on my finger is fresh, and not enough, but I shake it off. I'm just torturing myself. Pushing my desire back into its little box, I pull my bra out from the clothes bundled in my arm.
I dress into my peasant smock. It's my favorite. I like the lace embroidery and the cotton. Simple. Feminine. But somehow I never get to wear it for that long.
Walking through to the Baroque-eccentric nave, I reach the middle of the church aisle and turn back to the altar.
I can never ignore
him
, though I did try for a century or two.
Behind the brass and pillars, the prayer candles are still alight. A figure, nailed and bleeding, looks down upon me. Chest sunken, cheeks draw, sides open. It kills me every time to see
