Florence, 1971
I opened a heavy stainless steel door and entered the temple. I blinked in fascination along the smoothed sandstone walls that rose into the domed vault, completing the feeling of infinity. With my palms, I closed the door behind me and locked it without shame. I wanted to have this tabernacle just for myself, for my hungry eyes and soul. The air was heavy and cold, the strange humidity mixed with the scent of votive candles that had been displayed in five long rows before entering. It was already around nine o'clock in the evening, but the copper chandeliers still illuminated this baroque church's interior. Carefully, I walked on to the stone alcove with holy water. We'll see if it starts to burn my skin, I whispered to myself and dipped my little finger lightly into it. A smile formed in the corner of my lips.
Nothing happened. Apparently, God didn't kill me. I turned toward the lavish altar and prayed with a familiar gesture. I loved the feeling of transcendence, especially when I had this holy place entirely to myself: no distracting voices and the distracting scent of human blood. I carefully examined the stained-glass windows with my eyes, the flame of the candlesticks magically decorated them, and I devoured the biblical stories that the window panes told. There were chants in my ears, and I imagined how many centuries the magical church had been here. How many ministers were accepted in it, how many children were baptized and how many masses he had already experienced. What would the locals think if they knew that their temple was occupied by a vampire with a sense of art. I laughed amusedly and walked down the aisle to the altar. The marble statues of the saints watched me critically, St. John as if judging me, for the audacity to enter this holy land. I flinched strangely, a strange feeling passed through my body as if someone was really watching me—too many stone saints. I was outnumbered.
I ran my fingers through my hair and looked sadly at the pieta statue. Blue tears streamed down the porcelain cheeks, her face twisted with grief, arms gripping the body of Christ, and I felt a burning pain in my heart. Mary, she knew what it was like to lose her son. She knew the endless agony that would never give way. I averted my gaze painfully, intending to head away. It was late, and I broke into the Temple of Florence, but I can still enjoy a moment of controversy and enjoying the otherworldly beauty.
"Mass is long over." He said a velvet voice behind me. His tone was firm, but seductive. I panicked. How come I didn't notice it. A feeling of guilt piled up in my stomach, I tried my lip while The taste of lipstick got into my mouth, and at that moment, I lost my voice and slowly turned behind my voice.
The tall man leaned casually against a wooden confessional, clad in an ebony robe with a white wheelbarrow tightly encircling his sinewy neck. My gaze rested on his face, and at that moment I felt sick. His snow-white face was perfectly cut and complemented by hot amber eyes. His hair was golden, perfectly combed back, creating the feeling of a holy crown. His hair almost looked like a halo. Everything about him was prominent: his paleness, his light, his sensuality. I felt the heat in my lower abdomen, which quickly spilt over my thighs. He smiled tenderly and I gasped. As if swearing at me, I couldn't make a sound. My jaw dropped, and I tried to quickly make up an excuse.
"I'm still waiting." The words came out of his lips in a soft whisper. He had soft lips in a lavender tinge, and I wanted to taste them in a frighteningly twisted image. I swallowed desperately for the poison that had accumulated in my mouth.
I'm still waiting to taste you right under the altar.
Enough. I cried out in my subconscious, trying to get up.
"I'm sorry, Father." I said carefully in a soft voice.
"I dreamed" My voice broke strangely when I noticed that he was approaching me as if I were really losing him.
"You have another accent, daughter, where are you from, if I may ask." His eyes were strangely urgent, while his voice was like velvet sliding on smoothed marble.
"From the New World ..." I whispered. His aesthetic features were more beautiful with each approaching step.
"It's appropriate for you to look for God's presence after dark." He smiled amusedly, and his body was less than a meter away now. His scent was an intoxicating aroma that drove me mad. A spicy scent interweaved with wax and frosted roses. I couldn't stand it. He realized his power over me. It was terribly amazing. He seduced my miserable behaviour. His voice was like hot honey acting intensely on my heart, and I jerked uncomfortably to stop perceiving the moisture penetrating my lace lingerie.
"No, but I couldn't help myself... Will God punish me?" , irresistible, how can the priest be, so sensual. After all, they are forbidden to do so. I noticed how he swallowed. I drove him crazy, the threads of forbidden desire to be seen in the liquid gold. I parted my lips and sucked in his potent perfume deeply.
"No." He smiled amusedly again—more butterflies in his stomach.
The priest looked down on me and I could feel him measuring my proportions carefully. His eyes examined every fold of my dress, my hips, my pumps, and then he came from the legs back up until he stopped at my cleavage.
A priest enjoying the look of a woman's cleavage, so hypocritical. I deftly placed my palm there to warn him that I was aware of his stare. He gave me a stern look, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by a strange fear.
"Even though I can't vouch for myself." I'll try my lower lip. He couldn't be serious? The god-like priest threatened me?
The worst part was that I wanted him to threaten me. I wanted him to scream and moan. to grab my hair and do it for me. I took a deep breath. My feelings seemed to be transparent to his wisdom and he knew exactly what I was thinking; perhaps it was the hungry look that gave him away.
"You're quite strange and curious, you should be more careful, daughter." He whispered and leaned into close proximity of my face. He looked me in the eye sensually, and I felt my knees break. But the priest grabbed my waist tightly, didn't let go. fall on the stone floor.
"Father, why do I feel like you are an Angel?" I let him hold me tight. Enjoying his grip, and I didn't care that he was a holy man. I should have escaped quickly from the temple, not to indulge in this rather sinful activity.
The "white demon" confirmed in a deep voice and slowly ran his fingers along my jaw.
"We must not do this, Father, it is forbidden," I said suffocatingly, unable to follow his beautiful face. The smell was already sending me into sweet ecstasy, his touch like cold silk gripping my body. I had a silver crescent scar I took a shocked breath I couldn't help but moan angrily moaned His tongue tasted to me shamelessly God punishes us This doesn't work. Still, why I don't defend myself Why I let a stranger caress me and attack my defenceless body passionately I stopped it, but I didn't want to. He growled into the hollow between my collarbone and my shoulder. I couldn't stand it and grabbed his black robe tightly.
"The forbidden fruit tastes the best." He whispered sensually into my skin and ran his tongue up to my cleavage. He placed me carefully on the stone floor. My eyes were tightly closed, but I was fully aware of where I was lying and who was lying on top of him. they tasted my cleavage. At the same time, his slender fingers tightened the straps of my clothes My breath was irregular and loud I felt satin fabric slip from my body His mouth gripped my breasts tightly, he enjoyed me. It was absolutely divine I heard as the dress fell close to me, but his lips continued south, the tip of his nose running around my lumbar bones, I could feel his warm breath, he smelled the scent of my skin, and my body began to tremble with desire. he knew where to kiss me, where to touch me, and where to push me, I was lost in the intoxication and almost forgot that I was lying naked under the altar in a Baroque church in Florence with a mysterious golden-haired priest. My body squirmed when I felt his teeth tightening my lace underwear. I couldn't stand it and had to look.
I shook my lashes and saw his submerged face between my thighs. I tried to breathe, pleasure pushing me over the edge. His soft, experienced mouth gently desecrated my femininity. His actions violated this whole place. I ran my fingers through the crown of his hair and pressed, the surrounding statues of saints scolded us with a look, but I was unable to feel guilty. It didn't work. I was satisfied with the priest himself, how bad must it be? When he was the one who seduced me, he just drinks from me like a chalice. His palms gripped my thighs tightly, and I noticed that he was still wearing a priest's robe.
"Father-" I hissed, leaning over his collar. I tore it down thoughtlessly. He looked at me in surprise and growled excitedly, it was animalistic. His eyes changed from liquid gold to shiny obsidian. "What we're doing is wrong," I whispered, more in defence of myself than his. It was as if I needed to be reminded that I had to stop.
"If the lord had not created me and you, if he had not created your perfect body and soul, we would not have been here, in his temple ..." He smiled almost drunk and slowly took off his robes. The body of Michelangelo's David I completely obeyed him, I couldn't give in to the priest He loved me hard on the stone floor and my cries sounded like a colossal vault-like a chant We were one body, lost in a wild intoxication Occasionally an inappropriate father escaped my mouth As in the whole dance, I was completely submissive and let him dominate, he was very skilled in grasping a woman's body, he penetrated me hard and quickly, his face showed signs of strange indignation and ecstasy at the same time.
he also rebuked himself for desires like any other man. But after the climax, his face filled with amazement and gratitude. I could not take my eyes off him, especially in this liturgical atmosphere.
The candles were almost out, the smell of smoke mingled with the smell of our bodies. It was ethereal. We both breathed deeply and enjoyed the remnants of pleasure. Tired, I lay in the priest's arms and an intense wave of transgressions came.
"Voluptate reus" He whispered in my ear. As if he knew exactly my tension. He gently took my earring in his mouth, as if tasting the pearl. I cringed shyly, filling my face with another variety of tender kisses.
"You didn't tell me your name, daughter." And I laughed to myself.
"You also didn't tell me you were married, father."
My voice took on a slightly stern tone. I stroked his gold disc on his ring finger. He must have noticed my gaze burning the gold. In a second, he overtook me with sharp teeth on my cheek, I recoiled slightly and gave him a stern look.
"I thought Catholic priests lived their whole lives in celibacy, let alone in a marriage."
"Sometimes the church makes an exception ..." He said almost inaudibly, drawing his jaw with his tongue. I should feel dirty, but it only embarrassed me more.
"... in the Bible, you will not commit adultery either" As if he were giving me help. Perhaps he tried to emphasize how much we sinned. He squeezed my palm carefully and ran his thumb over my wedding ring. I swallowed.
"Father ... I guess I should confess tomorrow," I whispered in a voice full of shame. He pressed the kiss soothingly to my lid.
"We'll both have to, but don't worry. They're still taking indulgences here in Florence. In any form." We laughed together and in fact this ungodly humour did not offend me in any way. After all, the priest himself seduced me and calmed me sarcastically.
I smiled nervously and watched the surrounding frescoes in disbelief. I sat up slowly and leaned slightly on his bare, elaborate chest. The light of dying candles in such an impressive space made them the most attractive statue here. I couldn't believe he had seduced me in temples, the holiest place of all. I ran my fingertips carefully along with his muscles, enjoying the servile marble of his skin. His eyes changed remarkably from shiny black to the colour of hot amber.
"Is that how you seduce all the poor tourists who get lost?"
He smiled crookedly and ran his hand confidently around my hips. His palms traced my waist, then my bare breasts, collarbones, and settled on my face.
"No" He laughed and sat down on the plane house. He gripped my waist tightly and sat across from me. I didn't have the strength to protest. He allowed me to lean for his white wheeler. I stared at him in fascination, testing the soft fabric. Why such a piece of the collar hid so much symbolism. I could feel his lips in my hair.
"I only seduce those who are in the habit of climbing trees and are clumsy enough to fall out of them as well"
My throaty laugh came through the temple complex, and I pinched his shoulder and growled.
"You said you were going to find the keys to the catacombs, not that you would steal the priest's robe," I said almost scoldingly.
"I just borrowed it, it was hung on the closet, it couldn't be resisted." He shyly covered his face with his palms and recited a prayer in Latin, he must have apologized to God. I knew my husband very well.
"We'll have to go, our plane will fly." I smiled.