The sermon had gone as well as to be expected. If the well-to-do parishioners were upset by the appearance of more down on their heels church-goers, Brother Justin hoped the sermon of the poor widow who donates all she has might soften their hearts. Sadly though, they seemed just as callous, sniffing audibly when they passed the grimy parishioners to whom indoor plumbing was a distant dream of luxury.

Standing on the steps of his parish, Justin shook hands with all the members of the congregation, rich and poor alike. If his flock were to accept the new additions, he must lead by example. Perhaps they would follow their Shepard and his sister one day; if not, he would take his new flock to greener pastures.

Shaking hands with an emaciated woman in a tattered dress, Justin's attention was caught by a well-dressed blonde standing a bit off from the crowd. He scanned his memory and produced a name: Agnes Brighton, a young woman of about twenty whose father had relocated to the area on business about six months earlier. Her soft blonde hair was styled in the rippling waves that had set the nation on fire, her white cotton shift clinging with a hint of immodesty to her ripening curves. Her eyes met his, and he quickly turned away, the faint hint of embarrassment coloring his cheek. Diverting his attention back to the men and women before him, Justin kept his eyes on their worn, comfortable faces.

After several minutes, when the crowd had begun to thin, he ventured a quick glance upward, sure that Agnes had left. Instead, he was greeted by a small uncomfortable smile, and the shuffle of patent leather pumps. Those shoes would have looked more appropriate in a dance hall than god's house. Giving her a detached smile, Brother Justin turned and retreated up the steps and into the church.

Approaching the alter, he carefully gathered up his papers and prepared to head for home. Hearing the door creak open he called out in a smooth baritone.

"Do you think I even made a dent in their hearts, Iris?"

Justin spun on his heels when he was greeted by a much softer voice.

"I think it was a very powerful sermon."

Taking a deep breath to school his thoughts, Justin smiled but remained rooted to the floor behind the pulpit.

"Sister Agnes, please forgive me. I thought you were someone else."

She stood awkwardly at the back of the church a moment, before approaching closer. The pronounced click of her shoes on the tiles filled his ears.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to speak with you outside, but I…I was too embarrassed."

Justin realized the tension that had pooled in his muscles and forced himself to relax. Being alone with an unmarried female parishioner of such a tender age made him more than a little uncomfortable, but it was his duty to extend counsel to any of his flock that needed his guidance. Stepping from behind the pulpit, he joined her in front of the pews.

"You must never be embarrassed to seek guidance from your fellow Christians. What is troubling you, sister?"

Justin could hear the hushed whisper of the cotton dress as it slipped over her hips. She stepped in closer to him, and he felt his blood pressure start to rise. He had thought himself immune to tawdry feminine wiles but he found himself alone with women so infrequently that her closeness caused a slight sweat to spring up on his brow.

"I've had…inappropriate thoughts."

Now it was her turn to blush, but the scarlet flush on her cheek only made her appear more youthful and ripe. Justin clamped down on the feeling of butterfly wings thrashing about in his stomach. He wondered which of the young men in town had struck her fancy.

"There's no need to confess your sins to me, Sister. God knows your inner heart and he will hear your desire to repent and give you strength."

She was standing so close now, her shoes catching the light and reflecting it up to his eyes. She fidgeted uncomfortably, and brushed against his sleeve. The darkness that enveloped them was sudden and startling. The first thing he noticed was the cool rush of air around them, then a faint glow coming from their right. Shuddering, Justin let his eyes follow the light. A soft moan echoed in his ears. The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat, and his heart batter against his ribcage.

A lithe woman with flared hips was bent over the front pew, a cascade of blonde curls tumbling down to obscure her face. Behind, a man thrust into her, his jaw clenched as he battered her soft flesh into the unyielding wood. The center of his being tightened as he raised his eyes to the man's face, and found his mirror image staring back at him. The look of lust in his eyes filled him with a mixture of longing and dread.

Agnes stepped in even closer, her fingers fanning out as she placed her hand over his cassock-clad chest. Every muscle in his body trembled as he caught a whiff of her expensive perfume, heard another cry of pleasure from the copulating couple sharing their reverie. Justin's hands shot out of their own accord, grabbing her face and pulling her to him. His lips crushed down on hers, and for a few agonizing seconds he marveled at the taste of her open mouth.

Several heartbeats later, he returned to his senses, thrusting her roughly from him. His low voice boomed forth with fervent ardor.

"Pray with me sister!"

Grabbing her hand he pulled her roughly down, their knees falling hard on the tiled floor. Her eyes were bright with fear.

"The devil is in your heart Agnes and you must ask God to help drive him out. You cannot walk the bright path to salvation while you entertain the demons of lust in your heart."

Shaking, tears welling in her eyes, Agnes dug her fingernails into the palm of his massive hand. He felt a stirring in his loins as she drew blood. He trembled with the repressed urge to throw her to the ground and thrust her dress over her hips. She twisted her wrist, trying to slip from his grasp, but he held her fast and pulled her face closer to his.

"Renounce him, Agnes. Renounce him, or you will surely end up a ruined woman."

Ceasing her struggles, she looked up at him with tear stained cheeks. Her voice was small and frightened.

"You're hurting me."

Coming back to himself, Justin dropped her hand like a burning coal. He lowered his gaze, unable to meet her eyes. Agnes sprang to her feet and hurried out the door, the click of her heels hammering the tiles in rapid succession. As his breaths came in raged spurts, Justin looked down at his hands, faint traces of her blood mingled with his. He hung his head, unseeing as his sister gazed down at him from the corner of the room.

After dinner and an uncomfortable hour of listening to the radio, Justin retired to his room. The fresh welts on his back kept him up half of the night. The sinful images in his mind kept him up the rest.