The Priest

The Priest [The Pleasure Club] by Jackie Barbosa

Cobblestone Press www.cobblestone-press.com

Copyright ©2008 by Jackie Barbosa First published in 2008 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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CONTENTS Dedication Welcome to The Pleasure Club Author Bio ****

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The Priest Copyright© 2008 Jackie Barbosa ISBN: 978-1-60088-314-9 Cover Artist: Dan Skinner Editor: Lana Williams All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Cobblestone Press, LLC www.cobblestone-press.com

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Dedication To Anna Leigh Keaton ... this series was her idea, but she let me play with it. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Welcome to The Pleasure Club Dear Ms. Rodriguez, We're pleased to welcome you to The Pleasure Club. As you have already signed and returned the contract and filled out all the necessary forms to ensure you receive your every wish, we will be in touch with you shortly with the details of your first Pleasure Night. Your Wish List and Pleasure Forms have been turned over to our staff of highly trained Pleasure Guardians, and they are hard at work finding your perfect match. We will endeavor to meet your personal fantasy. When you are contacted again, you will be given a location where your Pleasure Night will begin, and you will also be given a safe word to use should you at any time become uncomfortable. There is no shame in changing your mind. We're here for your pleasure, and should your safe word be used, your match for the evening will cease all activity, and the game will be put on hold until a mutual agreement between you and your Pleasure Master can be reached. Once again, welcome to The Pleasure Club. Please feel free to contact the office at any time should you have any questions. Yours truly, The Pleasure Club Management **** Ms. Rodriguez, 6

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Your Pleasure Night will begin Thursday the 12th at 8:00 PM at the Chapel of the Vines on the grounds of Montebello Castle Winery, located at 1800 Mangrove Lane. Your safe word is Catechism. Sincerely, The Pleasure Guardians [Back to Table of Contents]

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They certainly thought of everything. Marisol Rodriguez stood in the doorway of the Chapel of the Vines and smiled to herself. She'd been here once before, years ago, for a friend's non-denominational wedding. The owners of the vineyard—whoever they were—rented both the chapel and the large gazebo nearby for private affairs. More than one kind of affair, apparently. Although the chapel itself looked much as it had the last time she was here—eight rows of wooden pews with an aisle down the center, stained glass windows depicting flowers and grapes and other secular objects—a large, black confessional booth now dominated the corner of the octagonal space next to the dais. Marisol's body pinged with excitement, for she knew her Pleasure Master for her Pleasure Night awaited her inside that booth. It was a naughty fantasy, one that had tormented her as a teenager when she'd lain in bed at night, masturbating to one orgasm after another as she imagined fucking the handsome, young priest who'd recently arrived at her family's parish. She knew it was wrong—sacrilegious—to have such thoughts, but that only made the fantasy more appealing. There was just something about the forbiddenness of the whole idea that set her body on fire. She'd never before revealed her secret desire to be screwed senseless by a man of the cloth to anyone, and she still couldn't quite believe she'd really done so when she'd filled out the paperwork and joined The Pleasure Club. 8

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There was no denying, however, that she was here, and there was the confessional booth. And her fantasy always began in the booth. Part of her was tempted to turn tail and run for the safety of her Camry. She had to be crazy to do this, to take this kind of risk. For all she knew, the guy waiting for her in there could be some kind of nut job. Heck, when she thought about it, it was a virtual certainty. Only a complete head case would be willing to impersonate a priest to fulfill a total stranger's sexual fantasy. This was crazy. And everything she wanted. Wasn't this why she'd ended up at The Pleasure Club in the first place? Her sixty and seventy-hour work weeks climbing the ladder in the buttoned-up and buttoned-down world of corporate accounting left her precious little time for a social life, and virtually no opportunity to meet men with any sense of adventure. She'd had enough of plain vanilla men and plain vanilla sex to last a lifetime. What she wanted was hot and dirty, no holds—or holes—barred sucking and fucking from a man who knew how to do more than climb on top and pump her like a mindless piston until he got his rocks off. And so far, she'd had pitiful success finding that in the world at large. She pulled the door closed behind her. The satisfying snick of the latch connecting with the housing echoed in the tiny, empty cavern of a room, announcing her arrival to whoever awaited her inside that black box. As though propelled by a will of their own, her legs carried her to the booth. With 9

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trembling fingers, she turned the handle, opened the door, and stepped inside. Through the screen that separated her side of the booth from the priest's side, she could make out the shadow of a man. Her pulse quickened, and heat rushed between her legs. She kneeled on the vinyl knee-bench inside the confessional. The cold, smooth surface against her bare knees sent a shiver of excitement straight to her pussy, and she squeezed her legs together to heighten the intensity of the sensation. She wanted this moment, the anticipation, to last forever, while at the same time, she was desperate to get to the main event. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned." Her throat was so dry and thick, the words came out on a croak, and she stopped to clear her throat. "It has been twelve years since my last confession." "Blessed are those who confess their sins, my child." Oh, that voice! Rich and deep, it sounded like hot sex drenched in melted chocolate with a hint of Irish cream. Her pussy pulsed, and her nipples tightened. It didn't matter what he looked like or whether he knew what to do with his equipment; he could probably make her come just by talking to her. "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost," she began, the words coming by rote despite more than a decade of disaffection from her childhood faith. "Father, I have committed the sin of lust."

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"It is good that you have come, my child, for lust is, as you know, a mortal sin. But you must tell me, for whom or what do you lust?" Marisol's face flooded with heat. Even though it was part of her fantasy, she found it hard to say the words. "I lust for you. I want to kneel in front of you and suck your cock. And then I want you to bend me over one of the pews and fuck me until I scream." "Ahh." He expelled an uneven breath, and she wondered if he was getting as turned on as she was. "What are you wearing now?" A giggle bubbled up in her throat in spite of herself. This wasn't part of her script. She answered anyway. "A white blouse and a black, pleated skirt." An outfit she'd chosen with the express intention of impersonating a Catholic schoolgirl. Well, as well as a thirty-seven-year-old accountant who'd just made principal in one of the city's biggest firms could. "And white knee socks." "Excellent. Unbutton your blouse." The low, rumbling tone with which he delivered the order caused an answering vibration in her cunt, and the crotch of her panties grew damper. She moved her fingers to the small, mother-of-pearl buttons between her breasts and undid them as quickly as she could manage, baring the low-cut pushup bra that matched the lacy thong underwear she wore. Her nipples, which peeked out above the cup, hardened further at being exposed to the cool air. "Is it open?" "Yes," she whispered, her skin tingling with excitement. 11

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"Good. Now, touch your tits." "Okay." She did as he commanded. "Rub your nipples between your fingers." His voice was more ragged now, his uneven respiration matching her own. She teased and tormented the hard, sensitive peaks, a soft hum of pleasure escaping her lips as her clit swelled and throbbed with rising need. "You like that, don't you?" At first, she nodded in answer but then, realizing he couldn't see the gesture, managed an affirmative "Uh-huh." "Is your pussy hot and wet?" "Yes," she whispered. "Then touch yourself there." He didn't have to tell her twice. She reached down and pulled up the hem of her skirt, then slipped one hand beneath the flimsy fabric of her panties. Circling her clit with her fingers, she continued to pluck and pinch her nipples. Her head dropped back against the wall, and she moaned. This was so much hotter than she'd imagined it would be; the act of masturbating while an unseen man listened and directed her. God, she hoped this whole thing was lighting him up as much as it was her. She rubbed harder, so close now. She couldn't hold off much longer. As if he could read her thoughts, her priest's sultry voice asked, "Do you want to come?" She bit her lip. "Mmm-hmm." She increased the pressure, moved her fingers more deliberately, more swiftly. 12

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"You are a very wicked, nasty girl. You know that, don't you?" "Yes," she gasped. Even though she was aware this was only a game and he wasn't a priest, the badness of what she did aroused her so much speech nearly became impossible. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to give you the strongest possible form of penance. Do you think you can take it?" "Oh yeah," she groaned in answer, hoping the question was more promise than threat. Because she could take it all and more. Every dirty thing he could do to her, she was ready for. She only hoped he was as wicked and nasty as she was. Surprisingly, few men were. At least, in her experience. She stilled her fingers as she heard the door to his side of the booth open and then close. The swishing sound of fabric and the soft tap of footsteps against the marble-tiled floor followed. The door swung open, and a blinding stream of light entered the confines of the booth. From her kneeling position on the floor, Marisol dragged her gaze up the body of the man of her dreams, from where the hem of his black cassock brushed the tops of his shiny black shoes to the white Roman collar at the neck. Backlit as he was, she couldn't make out his features, only that he was tall, lean, and dark-haired. And he had a massive erection tenting his robe and pointing right at her. Her heart thundered in her ears. Soon, she'd have that cock in her mouth, in her pussy, maybe even in her ass. Her cunt clenched at the thought. 13

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She looked up to his shadowed face. "What must I do to atone for my wickedness?" He stepped just inside the door to the booth, effectively blocking the light again, and wrapped his hand around nape of her neck beneath her shoulder-length hair. His palm was slightly calloused, and the roughness against the tender skin there made her shiver. Then, with the other hand, he unbuttoned the robe with a slow, elegant grace. Her breath caught. He was nude beneath the cassock. Well, except for his shoes and socks. Even in the relative darkness, she could appreciate the defined musculature of his abdomen and thighs and the gorgeous, thick length of his penis, right there in front of her face. He pulled her head toward him. "Suck me," he commanded, spreading his legs and thrusting his hips forward. Though she was a willing participant, the implication of force intoxicated her. Taking the shaft in his hand, he pumped it a couple of times before rubbing the smooth, rounded tip over her slightly parted lips. The sweet, musky scent of him made her dizzy, and she ran her tongue along the slit, lapping up a tangy drop of pre-cum before engulfing the head completely in her mouth. With a groan of pleasure, he forked his fingers into the back of her hair and gripped her skull in large, capable hands. "Show me how much you can take. Show me you can take it all."

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As he spoke, he began fucking her mouth, a slow in-andout motion that gathered speed until he buried his cock at the back of her throat before pulling almost all the way out. "Oh yeah, you can take it all, can't you?" She could only nod, looking up at him as she reached up to fondle his balls. His respiration became faster, more ragged, and she could swear his dick grew bigger and harder as she worked him with her lips and tongue and teeth. He had the smoothest, most delicious skin, and her pussy pulsed, begging for the same treatment her mouth received. He flexed his fingers against her scalp as she slid the hand that had been working his balls back into the crack of his ass and pressed against his anus. "Jesus," he grunted, but he didn't try to pull away and certainly didn't stop driving himself in and out, in and out. His buttocks tightened around her fingers, and she knew he was close to coming. A thrill of power rushed through her and settled in her pussy. If he was going to come, then by God, so was she. She moved her free hand down between her legs. "Uh-uh-uh," he admonished. He pulled her off his cock, and she moaned with disappointment. "I'm not gonna come in your mouth when I can come in your pussy. Or maybe even your ass." Her stomach fluttered with excitement. Both, please. She didn't have a chance to answer him, because he moved his hands from her head to her armpits and tugged. "Stand up." 15

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Her knees protested a bit as she rose to her feet, and she resisted the urge to rub them. A good thing, too, because as soon as she was upright, he wrapped his hands around her waist and spun her to face the back wall of the confessional. "Bend over, brace yourself, and spread your legs." The order, delivered in harsh, guttural tones, deepened the sweet, suspense-filled ache inside her. What next, what next? The wooden wall of the booth was cool beneath her palms, and a draft of cool air rushed up her backside as he pushed her skirt up and out of the way. His fingers slipped beneath the lacy fabric of her thong, and he yanked, ripping the skimpy garment and baring her to his gaze—and his cock. She expected him to fuck her without preamble; she was wet enough and ready enough. Instead, he knelt down behind her and gently kneaded her buttocks and thighs with firm, warm hands. "Oh, God, that feels good," she muttered, her voice sounding as thick and swollen as her pussy felt. "It's going to feel better," he replied, and then his fingers glided between the slick folds of her sex. He found her clit with the unerring certainty of a man who knows how to pleasure a woman. Her pulse leapt at the contact, and she pushed her hips forward to increase the pressure as he rubbed her sensitive flesh with smooth, even strokes. Oh, he was better than good. He was fantastic. The heavenly tension built and built, but just as she reached the brink, he stopped. Frustration coalesced like fire beneath her 16

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skin, but just as she was about to curse him for taking her to the edge and leaving her there, something firm and wet slid across her clit. His tongue. He buried his face between her legs, licking and suckling her clit with unerring accuracy. Her head drooped forward, and her knees almost buckled. When was the last time a man had eaten her out as if she were a delectable piece of fruit, and he could never get enough? Ten years? Fifteen? Hell, probably never. His fingers probed her slit and then thrust inside her steamy cunt. He worked three fingers in up to the knuckles and back out, driving them inside in time to the maddening rhythm of his tongue sweeping over her clit again and again. Her fingers curled into fists, seeking some sort of purchase on the flat surface she was propped against and finding none. Her thighs trembled as climax approached a second time, and she wondered if yet again he'd deny her at the crucial moment. If he did, she'd scream. But he kept up the delicious torment, and then she did scream anyway because the orgasm that gripped her was so intense, it almost hurt. Her pussy contracted in spasm after spasm around his pumping fingers, and she would have toppled over had he not wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her upright. For a few seconds, she wasn't aware of anything but the beating of her heart and the shuddering pulses of ecstasy gripping her muscles. But then she felt the most shocking, most sinful, most wonderful thing. His tongue had left her clit and traveled 17

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along the tender flesh of her labia and rimmed her asshole with careful, delicate pressure. She'd never dreamed of anyone licking her there, but it felt better than anything she'd ever imagined—wicked and raunchy and unbelievably erotic. "You like it in the ass, don't you?" His deep voice rolled across her skin like a small rockslide. She bit her lip and nodded. "Good, because so do I." He pressed two pussy-wet fingers against her saliva-slickened asshole and pushed inside. The sensation was too much and not enough all at the same time, and she squirmed to encourage deeper penetration. His response was to chuckle and withdraw his fingers. He gave her a light smack on the tush. "You're a greedy thing, aren't you? All in good time, pet." Pet. Ridiculously, the endearment warmed her in a way that wasn't entirely sexual. She turned her head in an attempt to get a glimpse of his face. "Uh-uh-uh." As he came to his feet behind her, he wrapped his hand around the base of her skull and forced her to look toward the wall in front of her. "I'm a priest. I have a reputation to maintain. Can't have you seeing me on the street or in church and recognizing me, now can I?" The admonishment reminded her of the game they played, and the reminder made her hot and cold at the same time. Goose bumps raced down her neck and arms, and her belly vibrated with anticipation of the forbidden moment when that thick cock would sink deep into her.

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As if to punctuate the thought, she heard the crackle of something wrapped in plastic, and then he removed his hand from her head to tear the wrapper open. A condom. Liquid pleasure, the heat and density of molten candle wax, pooled low in her belly as she visualized him rolling the thin rubber sheath over the thick, sturdy pole of his cock. She might not be permitted to see his face, but he had the most delicious dick she'd ever sucked. Fucking it would have to be ten times better. A few seconds later, his fingers dipped between her labia, spreading her apart before he settled the head of his penis at the drenched, swollen entrance of her pussy. She whimpered and wiggled, desperate to have him stretch and fill the empty, hungry place inside her. "Patience, pet," he cautioned, and his hands came around to cup her breasts. His thumbnails flicked across her sensitized nipples while he rotated his hips ever so slightly, tantalizing her with the promise of fulfillment only to hold back. He leaned down over her and swept her hair to the side, baring her neck to the sultry kiss of his breath against her skin. "I can't wait much longer," she muttered through clenched teeth. He chuckled, but there was a pained edge to the sound, as though he, too, were having trouble prolonging the agony. "It's gonna be worth the wait. Promise." His lips brushed across the tender skin at her nape while he continued to tease her nipples between his fingers and torture her cunt with the tip of his slowly rocking cock. Then 19

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his mouth moved up with sweet, soft strokes of his tongue toward her ear. She was on fire, and her need had become a starving monster that threatened to consume her. "God, please, fuck me now." "Okay," he rumbled against the sensitive flesh below her ear. Taking her earlobe between his teeth, he nipped gently at the exact same moment he drove his cock home. There was a slight burning sensation as her pussy stretched to accommodate his girth, making her realize how long it had been since she'd had sex. Almost three years. She closed her eyes, the sheer joy of being filled—overfilled— sending shockwaves of delight along her nerves. He nibbled at her neck and earlobe as he began to move. "You have the sweetest, wettest pussy I've ever fucked." "You shouldn't be fucking any pussies," she countered, tightening her muscles in time to the thrust and drag of his cock and eliciting a groan from him. "True, but you tempted me." His tempo increased, his balls slapping against her labia. He straightened and released her breasts, grabbing her hips to gain a better purchase as he fucked her with greater intensity. Marisol rested her forehead against the cold, wooden surface of the wall in front of her, wishing for the moment to last forever but knowing it wouldn't. In a few more thrusts, he'd go off like a cherry bomb and it would be over. But that was okay—he'd given her one incredible orgasm already, and she loved being fucked hard and fast and dirty, whether she came or not. 20

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But then, to her surprise, he slowed his movements. "Why are you stopping?" she asked, puzzled. "Not gonna come until you do, pet." He slid one of the hands that had been gripping her hips over her pubic bone and down between her legs to her clit. Imitating the pressure and circling motion of his tongue, he worked her back to the brink of climax with sure, swift strokes of both his fingers and his cock. Just as her release threatened to swamp and drown her, she felt the fingers of his other hand press against her anus. They were slick and wet, maybe with her own juices or maybe with his saliva, perhaps with both. Whatever he'd used, he slipped one lubricated digit into her asshole, and she jerked at the biting sting of the invasion. A second finger soon joined the first, followed by a third. It hurt a little, just at first, but then the sensation softened and expanded, the fullness in her ass complementing and intensifying the fullness in her cunt. "Good now?" he whispered. "Yeah." The delicious torture began all over again—fingers on her clit, cock in her pussy, fingers in her ass—all working together to drive her wild. "Ahhh, fuck." The words came out on a sob as her second orgasm of the night stormed through her like a hurricane, stronger than the first, though that hardly seemed possible. Before the aftershocks had subsided, he withdrew his cock and fingers, and it dawned on her that he hadn't come yet. "What about you?" she asked a little breathlessly. 21

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"We're not done yet, pet. You said you liked it in the ass, and I aim to please." He squeezed her butt cheek. "You okay with that?" A flicker of uncertainty fluttered in her breast. His cock was so big, he'd barely fit in her pussy. How could she accommodate him there? But even as the question formed itself, she dismissed it. She didn't know how, but she wanted to. Being fucked in the ass was a huge part of her fantasy, and this was her chance to fulfill it. The men she'd dated up to this point in her life had treated the idea of anal sex with a sort of horror, as if they thought wanting to fuck a woman in the ass made them latent homosexuals or something. She almost laughed at the thought. Hell, the way those guys made love, they probably were. They seemed to have a lot better grasp of male anatomy than female, that was for sure. But this man, her priest, he knew how to screw a woman right into paradise, and she would rather have her first taste of ass-fucking with a man who knew how to do it right than one who was as green as she was. She started to turn her head to look at him when she gave her affirmative answer, then remembered she wasn't supposed to see his face. She looked back at the dark floor. "I'm definitely okay with it." "Good. Stand up straight." "But I thought—" "Just do as I tell you." She obliged. Before she knew what was happening, he tied a length of black cloth over her eyes. Then he scooped her off 22

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the floor and carried her, cradled against his warm, bare chest, out of the confessional booth to ... someplace. When he laid her down, her backside contacted a hard surface covered in cloth, probably linen, and she smelled the faint aroma of roses over the musky odor of sex and the peppery-spiced scent of his body. He had brought her to the raised dais at the front of the chapel and placed her on the table in the center. Fresh, naked arousal snaked through her veins. He was going to fuck her on the altar. In the ass. Oh, that was just wrong. But the more wrong it was, the more it turned her on. Of course, it wasn't a real altar, not consecrated or anything. She knew that. But the idea still lit her up like Times Square on New Year's Eve. He moved to the end of the table and spread her legs wide. "Such a pretty, fuckable pussy," he said, petting the cropped mound of hair at her mons before trailing his fingers between her labia, "but I think your ass may be even prettier." His fingers continued their downward path as he spoke, reaching her anus. "And more fuckable," he added, easily sliding two fingers inside. She could tell from the way his fingers glided this time that he was using something more than saliva and her own moisture to lubricate his fingers. Whatever it was, it grew warmer and more slippery with friction, so that when the third finger joined the first two, there was no discomfort at all. In fact, it felt wonderfully, sinfully good. Emphasis on sinfully. 23

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With her hands freed from the task of propping herself against the wall of the confessional booth, she reached down to rub her clit as he worked the lubricant into her. Though she was deathly curious to know what he looked like—was he younger or older than she was, blue-eyed or brown-eyed?— she had no real desire to remove the blindfold and take a peek, though she easily could have. The truth was, her lack of vision heightened her other senses, making everything she felt, heard, smelled, and tasted ten times more erotic than anything she'd ever experienced before. Within just a few seconds of working herself, she was panting and on the verge of coming yet again. He grabbed her hand and yanked it away from her pussy. "Not yet, pet. You come with my cock in your ass, not before." Feeling saucier and raunchier and more sure of herself than she ever had in her life, she grinned and snatched her hand back. "Then you'd better fuck me now, because I'm not waiting this time." With a grunt that sounded half amused, half triumphant, he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock. Her eyes flew open, though only to the darkness of the blindfold, at the shock of the initial penetration. He felt much bigger there than he'd felt in her mouth or her pussy, and she'd thought he felt pretty big there. She took a few slow, deep breaths, willing herself to relax, because it didn't exactly hurt. It just felt different and ... more than she had imagined. He caught her under the knees and pushed her legs back with his elbow to improve the angle and sank deeper with 24

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slow, patient pressure. Leaning over her, he murmured little encouragements near her ear as, inch by painstaking inch, he worked himself balls-deep inside her. After giving her a few seconds to accustom herself to the invasion, he started to move. Just a little. Easy, gentle thrusts that stroked some raw, primitive place she hadn't even known she possessed, but that made her heart pound and her pussy ache. Her clit throbbed, begging for attention, and she met the demand by returning her fingers to their previously abandoned task. "I was right," he said softly, admiringly, picking up his pace, "you have a very fuckable little ass." Taking one of her nipples into his mouth, he licked and suckled and nibbled. She arched her back, greedy for more, every nerve ending exposed and wanting, every sensation so bad, it was unbelievably good. Her impending orgasm gathered steam, approaching with the intensity and inevitability of a speeding freight train. This time, there was no stopping it. As the first wave broke over her, he released her nipple with a soft pop and took her lips in a firm, sweet, tongueladen kiss that tasted like peppermint and herself. She sobbed into his mouth, her body bursting into a thousand brightly colored pieces like a stained-glass window shattered by an errant rock. A second later, he stiffened, shuddered, and came. In her ass. Just as he'd promised. And she loved it. Marisol lay motionless, limp with a satiation so profound she thought she might never need to have sex again. She 25

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was dimly aware of him withdrawing and cleaning them both up with a soft cloth. He straightened her skirt and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "I believe your penance is complete, my child." Her lips twitched. "I believe you're right, Father. I feel quite ... blessed." Blessed and relaxed and filled with peace. "I must be going now. Priestly duties, you know." There was a hint of amusement in his voice. "Please do not remove your blindfold or follow me until after you hear the chapel door and have counted to one hundred. Will you do that?" "Yes, Father," Marisol replied obediently. "Good girl." His heat and peppery scent invaded her senses one more time as he kissed her with a thoroughness that was both a bittersweet good-bye and tantalizing promise of something more. Then, he was gone, the tap of his heels on the polished marble floor echoing in the space until he reached the door. It opened then closed with a familiar click. She sat up and counted to one hundred while buttoning her blouse, then removed the blindfold. As she got to her feet, the realization dawned on her that she'd have to drive home without panties because he'd ripped hers, and she cast her glance to the confessional, looking for the tattered garment. Not that she could wear them—she'd just have to go bare-bottomed—but for some reason, she wanted to bring them home, perhaps as a talisman of the most amazing sexual experience of her life.

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The glint of something on the floor just inside the door of the booth caught her eyes, and she crossed the room to see what it was. Next to her torn underwear lay a beautiful gold and pearlstudded rosary and a small, rectangular paper. A business card. She bent down to retrieve all three items. Until we meet again. Father MacKenzie The Pleasure Club She tucked the card inside her bra and looped the rosary around her neck, smiling to herself. So much for never needing sex again. She already knew she would need Father MacKenzie again. Very soon. The End [Back to Table of Contents]

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Author Bio When Jackie isn't trying to be a writer—and even when she is—she's a happily married mother of three who makes her living writing technical training materials for the financial services software industry. She lives with her family in Southern California, where she was born and raised. She holds a BA in Classical Studies from the University of California at Santa Cruz, and an MA in Classics from the University of Chicago. Jackie has been telling stories since before she learned to write—just ask her mother! You can visit her online at www.jackiebarbosa.com. **** VISIT COBBLESTONE PRESS, LLC WWW.COBBLESTONE-PRESS.COM ROMANTIC FANTASIES FOR EVERY READER! MAINSTREAM, SENSUAL, AND EROTIC ROMANCE LIT, PDF, HTML, AND MOBI FORMATS AVAILABLE

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