Millie slowly came to awareness with the feeling of lips on her neck, moving down over her bare shoulder…now a hand caressing, following the same path his kisses had, then further…fingers sliding down over her arm…onto her flank, dipping into the sensitive crease where her hip met her thigh…
She kept her eyes closed in contentment, allowing herself to linger in the place between sleeping and waking…Then, all at once, reality flooded in, and her eyes flew open as she gave a panicked gasp.
At her sudden start, she felt John stiffen behind her and his hand curled into a fist on her hip, twisting the blanket up in his fingers. She panted, trying to catch her breath.
As she came more fully awake and the panic in her body began to settle into resignation, she reached out to take his hand. Helping him to unclench his fingers, she fitted hers through them, instead, and gave a small squeeze—an attempt to soothe herself as much as him. He relaxed a little against her, and she took another moment to breathe, determined not to whine or beg him to stay. This was how it had to be, she knew that well enough.
When she thought she could trust her voice, she twisted backwards and craned her neck to look him in the face.
"Hmmmm, already?" Despite her best efforts to keep her tone light, there was a goddamned tremor in her voice…She cleared her throat, "What time is it?" That was better.
"About 3:00."
The witching hour.
She blinked, not sure why that had come to her mind. Dismissing the irrelevant thought, she took another purposeful breath, and brought her focus back to the task of controlling her emotions.
"Ok, you need to go, then?" She would offer it. She wouldn't make him force it on her.
He sighed and nodded. Gently extricating his fingers from hers, he brought himself up on his elbow. The blanket slipped off of both their torsos with the movement, and she saw his eyes darken with arousal as they took in the sight of her uncovered breasts. He sighed again and looked away.
"I must be gone and live or stay and die…"
The words niggled at her mind for a moment, then she recognized them with a smile.
"Shakespeare?" He'd only ever quoted the Bible to her before.
"I don't just sit in the rectory reading theology, I have free time too." He was trying to sound offended, but she could feel his body once more relaxing against her as he spoke. "The Franco Zefirelli version was great."
A certain scene came to mind, and she quirked her eyebrow at him, "And Olivia Hussey's tits…?"
He smiled, "Intriguing at the time, but why think about that with yours here in front of me…" He caressed the breast nearest to him and leaned down to give the nipple a small kiss. Closing her eyes, she gave a little hum of contentment and briefly allowed herself to melt into his touch. But of course, neither of them could afford to let the small moment of intimacy turn into anything more, and Millie decided it would hurt less if she was the one to move next.
She sat up, casually letting the blanket fall further off of her naked body. But at the faint sound of a suppressed groan from behind her, she took pity on him and pulled the blanket back up and around to cover herself. John was now left completely naked, and she felt him shiver, then shift his weight and move to get up. She scooted over, giving him enough room to maneuver up off the couch, then watched in numb silence as he began to gather his clothes…
He got into his underwear and pants, zipping and buttoning himself up quickly, without even glancing in her direction. His movements were stiff and rigid and she realized with a twinge of dismay that he was deliberately avoiding her gaze. He reached down for his shoes and socks, then checked for a moment, pulling his arm back and straightening his torso. His eyes were focused on something on the floor near his shoes…Her stomach turned over when she realized what it was…
She watched as he slowly picked up his collar and stared at it, his face inscrutable. After a moment, he put it in his pocket, with a sigh. Closing his eyes, he made the Sign of the Cross and his lips began to move without breath or sound. Even so, Millie thought she recognized the familiar pattern of the words…
…Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death. Amen, she prayed with him, silently.
He crossed himself again and gave another deep sigh as he opened his eyes, seemingly more at peace. He scooped up his shoes and socks and sat down on the couch to put them on. When that was done, he turned to her. Their eyes connected and they sat for a moment, just looking at each other. Then he slowly leaned forward, cupped the back of her neck and rested his forehead against hers. Reassured by the tenderness of his gesture, she let out a shakey little breath.
Too soon, he drew back and got up off the couch, reaching to offer her a hand up as well. She let him pull her to her feet, carefully keeping the blanket around her naked body as she stood. In need of something to do, she made her way over to their wall to retrieve his shirt. As she handed it to him, she felt a little smile tug at the corners of her lips and blushed to recall the circumstances that had led to the shirt being there on the floor. He seemed to guess her thoughts, and answered with a warm smile of his own as he pulled his arms through the sleeves.
He let the shirt hang open with the buttons undone, and she couldn't help but reach out her hand to touch his bare chest, wanting to feel his heartbeat against her palm. A heated look of desire passed between them, and he abruptly snatched her up into a fierce embrace. She moaned, pressing herself into his passionate kisses, and the blanket dropped to the floor as her arms flung themselves around to cling to his shoulders.
His hands roughly caressed over her waist, then down further to clutch at her bottom, pulling her against his growing hardness for a delicious few seconds. But just as fiercely as he had grabbed her, he suddenly wrenched himself away and turned his back to her, panting.
She stood, bereft and shaken, with her empty arms still half held out to him, "I'm sorry…"
He slowly turned to face her, and she could see that there were tears in his eyes.
"Don't be. It was my fault. I should go now, or I swear to Christ…" He shook his head. Tenderly, he cupped her cheek and gave one more gentle kiss to her lips, then turned away and resolutely made the last few steps to the door, taking his coat off the hook as he passed.
She felt the sudden need to give him as much cover of darkness as possible, so she quickly crossed over to the side table and turned off the little lamp. As her eyes adjusted, she felt her way into the hallway and flipped the switch to turn off the porch light as well. But, she followed him no further.
Halfway out the door, he stopped and looked back. His face was barely discernible in the moonlight, but when he spoke, she could hear the warmth in his voice, "Come back to confession, Millie. You can tell me anything now…" Then he stepped out into the darkness, closing the door behind him.
Millie stood still for a moment, searching her heart. Strangely, she didn't feel any guilt. Instead, there seemed to be an emptiness in her stomach: The hollow expectation of an emotion that would eventually come to fill the void. It would surely catch up with her, sooner or later…but for now, maybe some more rest would be prudent.
Turning back to the living room, she started to head in the direction of her bedroom…
…If you would just show up and ask me, I would have taken this collar off, and I would have gone with you…
Millie whirled around, thinking somehow that he'd come back. But there was no one there…
She didn't know what to think as his voice continued to echo in her mind…
…I would go with you anywhere in the world…
She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut as all the emotions came flooding in at once, filling that empty place in her belly with more than she could bear. She dropped to the floor, sobbing.
She stayed there for a time, heaving out all the guilt and longing and fear and shame and grief. But after a while, her sobs began to calm, and as she snuffled and hiccuped the last of the turmoil from of her body, what was left behind was a feeling of peace. It had been no mistake, what they'd done. Somehow, she knew this.
Too exhausted to even make it to her bed, she reached over for the discarded blanket, then carefully got to her feet and made her way over to the couch. She could feel her limbs shaking as she curled up on the cushions, pulling the blanket over her chilled, naked body. Her hip settled right into the sticky spot they'd made with their combined pleasure, and she winced, but didn't have the energy to reposition. Her eyes fluttered closed and she let herself drift off into the nothingness of sleep…
John's Shakespeare reference is from Act 3, Scene 5 of Romeo and Juliet. They also discuss this same scene from the 1968 movie by Franco Zefirelli. I am aware of the very recent scandal concerning the nude scene, but there would have been no way for Millie and John to know about that back in the '70s.
Millie's last bit of clairaudience was, of course from episode 7 of Midnight Mass.