"I brought some leftovers," Mildred told John as entered the rectory and handed him a covered plate. "It's just some chicken. I didn't know if you'd eaten."
"Thank you," he told her gratefully, taking the item and placing it in the refrigerator. "I must admit, I'm not the best at remembering to feed myself, time tends to run away with me."
Mildred nodded, unsurprised given his thoughtful demeanour and wiry frame.
"I just need to do one last check that St. Patrick's is secure for the storm, but if you want to," he motioned towards the small wooden frame with cushions that passed as a kind of sofa. "I won't be long," he told her before heading out of the door.
Having only seen the rectory from the doorway a few times before, never having the need or invitation to venture further, Mildred took the opportunity to take in her surroundings. It was, unsurprisingly for the dwelling of a priest, more utilitarian than homely.
Firstly, there was the small loveseat she was seated upon, which was not the most comfortable of seating with it's hard wooden frame and cushions that were more firm than soft. Looking around, she cast her gaze towards the coat rack by the door - John had nipped out quickly to check the church, leaving his ever present fedora perched upon it - and then towards the small desk and the large bookcase behind it. Then there was the modest kitchen area, and the round dining table better sized for one person than two. She thought of John eating his meals there, alone, every night and had to force herself past the sad image lest it get entangled with her already complicated feelings for him.
The only real touches of character were related to the Lord with pictures of Jesus, Mary and the Pope dotting the walls. She wondered if John had any pictures of his family, and indeed, what they looked like.
Mildred was jolted from her thoughts when John came through the front door, the wind whipping around him as he closed it securely behind him. "Everything seems fine at St. Patrick's," he told her with a smile, turning to remove his coat before turning towards her and shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. "Would you like some tea?"
"Yes," Mildred nodded eagerly. "Please," she added, realising she had forgotten her manners.
John nodded and went to the kitchen to fill the kettle and place it on the stove. While he waited, he busied himself as best as he could, trying hard to ease any strangeness of the situation. Although they had earlier touched hands and he had invited her to the rectory that evening, neither of them had done anything explicit when it came to defining their relationship, so uncertainty still hung heavy between them.
"Here," he told her, handing her the mug before sitting down next to her, his own tea in hand.
The loveseat was cramped to say the least and with John being so tall, it was impossible for them to sit side by side without his legs brushing against hers. Still, they sat quietly sipping their tea as the storm raged on outside, the rain beating down. While they both tried to face forward in some attempt at lessening the intimacy of sitting so close, John still saw Mildred shiver slightly out the corner of his eye.
"You're cold?" he asked, concerned, turning towards her, getting up from his seat before she had time to answer. He returned from the bedroom a few seconds later, a knitted patchwork blanket in his hands. "Here," he said as he draped it gently over her shoulders before sitting down again next to her
"Thank you," Mildred said, gathering it around her. "George laughs at me, he says I would be cold even in Mexico at the height of summer."
John gave a small laugh. "Have you travelled much?"
"Me?" Mildred exclaimed with surprise. "Oh no, I've never left the state, barely left Crockett Island."
"I've travelled on missions. There are so many amazing things…" He sighed wistfully. "It really is incredible what's out there, what God has created."
"I suppose I'd like to travel," she pondered before forcing herself back to reality, "but it's too late for that now."
"It's never too late; you're still so young. There is so much beauty in the world, to think you'd never see it…" John shook his head, frowning.
Mildred shrugged. "I don't think George would-"
"Screw George," John said, shocking even himself with his boldness, knowing he would never utter such words in the confines of St. Patrick's. "I'm sorry," he apologised, unconsciously reaching for her hand. "It's just…you are so much more than just someone's wife. You deserve so much more than that."
Mildred turned her head and locked eyes with him. Keeping his gaze steady on hers, he raised his free hand to touch the side of her face, her eyes automatically closing.
"I want…" she started, building the courage to ask the question she so wanted to. "Would you…" She swallowed and took a deep breath as she opened her eyes to look at him. "Would you hold me?"
Quite terrified, she awaited his answer, her breath held and her eyes unblinking. He opened his mouth to speak only to close it again, his brow furrowed.
"Please," she finally added, an element of desperation in her voice.
"I would like that," John took a shaky breath, "very much."
They stood from the seat quietly, hands still entwined as they walked to the bedroom, both stopping still, frozen side-by-side, just before they reached the bed.
In the dim light, Mildred did a quick glance over the room and saw the small typewriter in the corner, and it gave her a strange thrill to know she was one of the very few people to ever see where John sat and wrote the sermons he would so eloquently read in church.
"Which side do you want?" John finally asked her, breaking the silence.
"I'd erm," Mildred replied, pushing her hair nervously behind her ear with her free hand. "I'd like the left."
"OK," John nodded, reluctantly unlinking his hand from hers to move nearer to the bed. Pulling back the covers, he slid in between the sheets.
Feeling slightly emboldened by John's actions, Mildred followed suit, going to what was now her side of the bed and climbing in. They lay side-by-side and deadly still, staring at the shadows on the ceiling, each scared to make the first move, before he turned to her and drew her towards him.
As they moved towards each other and John's arms instinctively pulled Mildred closer, she nestled her head into the crook of his neck. He closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of her hair, and without a thought to stop himself, he placed a kiss on top of her head.
"Mm-hmm," Mildred murmured approvingly as she too drank in the scent of him, committing it to memory should this be their only time together so close, so intimate.
Maybe it was in part due to taking refuge from the storm with the wind howling and rain pelting down outside, but in that moment, Mildred realised that she had never felt so safe, so secure, and so utterly wrapped in love as she did in John's arms.
As much as John loved having her there, it took all his self control not to kiss her, touch her - not to get hard. This night wasn't about that; Millie wanted to be held, to be loved gently, she didn't want the kind of passion John increasingly felt himself shamefully thinking about, even when he knew his mind should be firmly on God. Maybe she would never want that kind of love from him; so if this were all they would have, that would be OK. He was quite sure he could survive the rest of his life with just the memory of holding her.
They fell asleep like that, and John didn't wake until he needed the bathroom. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was just past 4am, so carefully extracted himself from Mildred's arms trying his hardest not to wake her. She looked so beautiful, so peaceful, and his heart ached for him to be the man who got to see her like that every night.
As careful as he'd been, John's attempts not to disturb Mildred were unsuccessful, and when he was back in bed and gently pulling her towards him, he saw her eyes open. They looked at one another for some seconds, the dull ticking of the clock rhythmic against the sound of their breathing.
In the darkness, Mildred reached out and traced his jaw, feeling a hint of stumble peaking through. Slowly, so slowly, she closed the gap between them and softly placed her mouth to his.
After a few seconds, she pulled back slightly to look at John's face. His eyes had been closed but fluttered open to gaze at her tenderly. It was him that reached out this time, cupping the side of her face as he leaned in to kiss her. This kiss was more powerful than the first, fuelled by John whose tongue traced the seam of her lips. It had been a long time since he'd last shared that kind of kiss with someone - suddenly vivid memories were ignited of him awkwardly kissing a pretty neighborhood girl when they were both only 15 - and in his eagerness, he clumsily clashed his teeth with Mildred's.
"Sorry," he said, pulling back, red faced.
Mildred just laughed before threading her fingers into the back of his hair, pulling him in and kissing him with a fervor that matched John's, albeit with the kind of restraint earned by more experience. She could feel he was aroused, and the fact that it was a consequence of her actions excited her in a way that was revelatory. She pushed her body into his, electing a small shudder from him before he froze.
"Wait," John said, breaking away from the kiss and sitting up slightly. For a moment, Mildred feared he'd changed his mind, but instead, he removed his collar and placed it with the utmost reverence and care down onto the small table beside the bed. Mildred watched, strangely moved by the simple act that felt almost sacrificial.
As John looked at her, his heart filled with a guilty gratitude at the admiration and love he saw on her face. She reached out and undid his top button as he moved in to kiss her and unfasten the buttons of her dress, the garment pooling from her shoulders and revealing skin just as perfect and creamy as the complexion on her face. While the first kiss they'd shared had been hurried and clumsy, John proved himself to be a quick learner, and this one was softer and more tender, although it became more desperate as Mildred's hands moved from his hair and down his back, pulling him closer. It was only when she reached to undo his belt that he stopped her.
"I don't," John said, his breathing ragged as he tried to put his thoughts into words, his mind racing. "I haven't…I mean, you should know that I've never-"
"That's OK," Mildred assured him, understanding his struggle to explain his inexperience, as her fingers brushed down the side of his face. "It's OK," she whispered before leaning in to kiss him with the utmost tenderness, her fingers working slower this time to unfasten his belt and then his pants.
Soon they were both naked, now useless clothing tossed to the floor. They were both so ready that Mildred saw no use for further foreplay..
"Here," she uttered breathlessly, briefly moving her lips from his as she reached down between them and helped to guide him inside.
John closed his eyes as he sank into her, sure all the breath had left his body.
"It's OK," Mildred reassured him gently, reaching to touch his face, encouraging him to open his eyes and look at her. "Breathe, John," she encouraged him, using his Christian name for the first time she realised after she'd said it. Stupidly worried she shouldn't have done so, she was relieved when he shakily exhaled and looked at her with joy in his eyes at such an act of casual intimacy, regardless of their very intimate current situation. "You can move, if you want."
"Mm-hmm," he agreed, swallowing before he tentatively moved his hips. Eventually, he found something of a rhythm and Mildred decided it was time she moved her hips in tandem.
"That's it," she shuddered, kissing him again.
"I'm not-" John told her through a desperate gasp. "I can't…I'm gonna-"
"That's OK, it's OK," she reassured him again with complete sincerity as she felt him cum hard inside her.
"I'm sorry," John apologized red faced after he'd pulled out, rolling on his side to face her. "I know it was uh-" he swallowed, "quick." Inexperienced he may have been, but he'd overheard enough off colour jokes in his life to realize to last such a short time was a source of shame.
"You don't need to be sorry," Mildred told him, warmth on her features as she touched his face. "Just being with you is more than I ever hoped for."
John nodded, his brow creased. "Is there a way I could… Could you show me, show me how to make it good for you?"
Mildred shook her head, a gentle smile on her lips. "John, that was good for me, you don't need to-"
"Please," he said, cutting her off as he too reached out to touch her face.
Mildred looked at him for a moment, a look of pure and loving desire to please her so sweet that she longed to hold him and never let him go. "OK," she agreed.
Taking his hand from her face, she moved it lower until he brushed against the still sensitive place between her legs. Although he had barely touched her, she drew in a sharp breath at the slight touch of his fingers.
"Here," she told him, continuing to guide his hand, moving his index finger to her entrance and encouraging him to slide it in. "Mm-hmm," she affirmed. "You can-" she didn't need to finish her sentence as John, ever the quick learner, had already added a second digit. "Now, if you just…" Reaching down, she guided his thumb to brush against her clit, shuddering.
"Like that?" he asked, wide eyed with uncertainty and a want to please.
"Mm-hmm," Mildred hummed, her eyes closing. "Like that."
John watched her face, his hand beginning to move on instinct as he picked up on each gasp she gave and mewl she let out, all the while as she desperately tried to increase the pressure he was providing.
George's hands were rough, those of a working fisherman, but John's were soft and smooth, and together with the type of pressure he applied, gave a very different result. George was insistent and urgent, reaching the end goal as quickly as possible, and while that method had its merits, John's gentle but firm approach built like a tidal wave and had her see not only stars, but constellations.
"Oh John," she uttered breathlessly, finally finding her release as her hips bucked and she tightened around his hand.
Watching her fall apart was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, John thought. More beautiful than the blankets of Monarch butterflies he'd seen coating the trees in Mexico, or the murmur of starlings he'd witnessed dance in the sky in Maine. He couldn't quite believe he held such a remarkable power, to be able to reduce this amazing woman to a shuddering heap, utterly boneless with satiated desire.
"You're beautiful," he told her as they lay basking in the afterglow, bringing an added blush to her cheeks. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and shame on me, I thought it the first time I saw you."
Mildred looked at him, her eyes glassy as she struggled to be brave enough to let him know what she had been denying to herself for weeks. "I… I love you."
"I love you, too," he replied, no fours words ever feeling more natural spilling from his lips as he gathered in his arms. "I love you," he whispered again, pulling her even closer as they each savoured every second of the time they had alone together, the dark stormy night feeling like a barrier protecting them from anything that lay beyond the four walls of the rectory - be it past, present or future.