*** Author's Note: This is part two of my 'Confessor' series, and it is a slow burn. You must read the first part to understand this story. I got a lot of backlash for not placing part one in the Fantasy category, but, after thinking about it, I've decided to place part two in Loving Wives as well, since it covers the same scenario as part one. I've tagged it as fantasy, but if you still want to give it a one star in spite of that, then so be it.
As always, all characters are above the age of 18. Do forgive any spelling/grammar errors I might have missed. All feedback is welcome. Enjoy.***
*****
Samuel stood outside of the church staring up at the double doors. Several minutes had passed since Delilah and the Confessor disappeared inside, leaving him alone on the sidewalk with nothing but the morning breeze to keep him company.
Or so he thought.
"Better be about your business, boy," came a tired voice from somewhere behind him.
Samuel turned. Behind him was the old man he'd seen on the steps earlier that morning, sweeping fallen leaves and litter into a pile on the sidewalk.
"...What?" Samuel asked numbly, still trying to process what had just happened.
The old man looked up at him. He was a frail-looking man with a bald head and bushy gray eyebrows that looked to be in dire need of trimming. The look on his face said that he'd seen many men like Samuel, and expected to see many more.
"The lady Confessor told you to go on home, didn't she?" he said impatiently. "Do you intend to disobey her?"
"N-no," Samuel stammered. "No, of course not."
The old man eyed Samuel up and down as if appraising him, then shook his head.
"Then leave! Now! You're in my way!" he spat, and returned to his sweeping. But not before adding under his breath, "Standing around here won't change anything, anyway."
The man seemed to forget Samuel's presence after that. As if he were just another piece of litter on the sidewalk, not even worth sweeping up.
Samuel looked up at the doors of the church again. A small part of him still hoped that if he waited just a bit longer, Delilah would come back out again and they could put this day behind them. But, he feared that the old man might report him to one of the priestesses if he lingered there any longer. So. he reluctantly made his way back to his car and drove home alone.
*****
The journey home was a blur for Samuel and he barely registered his actions as he drove. Instead, his mind played the events of the wedding consultation on a nightmarish loop. Delilah's delirious moans of pleasure. The passionate kisses she shared with the Confessor. His helplessness as he sat there and watched. All of it crowded out any input from the real world, and when he finally came to his senses, he was sitting in his driveway with the engine still running.
When the door slammed shut behind him after he went inside, the gravity of his situation finally hit him. The lights were off, every room was empty, and he was alone.
Samuel had spent the past two months, no, the past ten years of his life obeying the Church and waiting patiently to be with Delilah. He'd controlled his urges, resisted temptation, and followed Dyanarah's teachings to the best of his ability, even if he didn't always understand or agree with them.
And what was his reward?
The image of the Confessor as she deflowered his wife right in front of him flitted across Samuel's mind. He shook his head violently, as if he meant to physically dislodge the thought. Then he dragged his fingers through his hair and took deep breaths to calm himself, before sitting down on the couch and staring at the floor.
Is this normal?
he thought to himself.
He'd never heard anyone go into any detail about what happened at a wedding consultation. Only that every newlywed couple had to do it, or the Church wouldn't acknowledge them. He knew a few married couples, and nothing about them gave him the impression that they'd been through what he'd just experienced. They all seemed perfectly fine.
Then again, he couldn't see himself telling anyone about what the Confessor had done with his wife, so why would he expect anyone else to? But did that mean all those men were just putting on a brave face in public? And what about their wives? Did they all throw themselves at the Confessors like Delilah had and then return to their husbands like nothing happened? Was he just supposed to wait?
Samuel began clawing at his head again as the unanswered questions started to multiply in his mind. He rose from the couch and began pacing back and forth as he weighed his options.
Returning to the church or even calling them might be interpreted as a sign of disobedience, so he was hesitant to do either. He couldn't call Delilah because, like him, she'd left her phone in the car before entering the church. He was in the middle of trying to talk himself into calling a friend for advice when he noticed the clock on the wall and nearly cursed.
9:47 am. He was nearly an hour late for work.
However, he wasn't in the right mindset to go into the office, so he took out his phone and called in sick. After he hung up, the deafening silence struck him for the second time. He was alone in the house he'd intended to share with Delilah. Alone while she remained at the church with someone else. The memory of her running into the Confessor's arms caused his anxiety to give way to melancholy, and he slowly sank back onto the couch.
Don't worry, Mr. Cantor. You go on ahead. I'll make sure your wife gets home safely.
The Confessor's parting words replayed themselves in his mind. He clenched his fists in impotent frustration as he sat alone in the empty house, and willed the minutes to pass more quickly.
Samuel spent most of the day pacing around the house, and glancing at the clock. When he grew tired of that, he sat on the couch with his head in his hands and relived the wedding consultation in graphic detail. Too much of that is probably what made him start drinking.
By the time he had exhausted his reserves of alcohol, it was dark outside and Delilah still hadn't returned. Samuel stared at the front door. Part of him wanted to stay up and wait for her to return, but the exhaustion of a day spent in worry—not to mention one too many cans of beer—had taken its toll on him. He was just about to lay down on the couch when he realized that he no longer had a reason to sleep there and made his way to the bedroom.
But he didn't go in.
Instead, he stood in the doorway and stared at the large empty bed as he thought about Delilah. He remembered how she'd behaved the first week after their marriage. So playful and provocative. Constantly showering him with love and affection.
He remembered the voluptuous curves of her body as she pranced around the house in near-nudity. The maddeningly enticing way she'd rubbed her backside against him when they'd slept together. The way her soft breasts felt in his hands as he fondled her sleeping body when his lust kept him from finding sleep. And the night he nearly disobeyed the church when his desires finally overwhelmed him. The night that led to him sleeping on the couch for the past two months.
He left me alone...
He'd thought about Delilah's accusation several times during the day. Maybe she was right. Maybe this was all his fault. If he'd only been more attentive to Delilah. If only he hadn't distanced himself from her. Then maybe the wedding consultation would have gone differently.
The wedding consultation.
And once again, the image of the Confessor as she deflowered his wife in front of him entered his mind. Their naked bodies entangled as they kissed one another passionately. The tireless thrusting of the Confessors hips as she drove her Spear into his wife's soft body. Delilah's moans of ecstasy as the Confessor drove her to climax after climax.
Samuel looked at the bed he'd intended to share with his wife, and returned to the living room to sleep on the couch.
When he woke the next day, wincing through the pain of his hangover, he looked at the clock and saw that it was nearly three in the afternoon. He rose and stumbled through the house calling Delilah's name, but he received no reply. Everything was as he left it the night before and their bed hadn't been slept in.
