Bad Habits: A Dark Anthology - Yolanda Olson Page 0,4
submit to Father Dominic because he allows me privileges not many of the other girls have. The physical has nothing to do with emotions, the intimate trysts in the buildings of the convent are payments. But what I can’t stop thinking about is the man who I kissed. He has consumed my thoughts.
It’s been two long weeks since he stole a kiss. But if I am completely honest, he didn’t steal a thing, I gave it to him freely. And I admit that if he had wanted more, I would’ve given it to him as well. There was something about him, something that had my heart thudding, banging against my ribs.
My panties had been drenched at the feel of his tongue against mine. The way his hands explored my curves. He wanted me as much as I needed him.
Humans are weak creatures. They fall into the trap of confession and sin so easily. Each Sunday, our confession box is filled with repenting parishioners, but none of them keep to their prayers because the moment they step out of church, they sin.
And that’s what I learned early on in life… sin is the only way to live a life free of regret.
Shadows dance across the pews this morning as I make my way through the church to the front where I have to set up the candles. To be honest, the space is stunning with stained-glass windows that colorful streams of light shimmer through. But there’s also a darkness that hovers over the convent.
It makes me nervous. It reminds me of the night I witnessed my parents kill someone. That wasn’t the only time I was shaking from fear. I recall a few things I saw after that which have stayed with me.
Before that first night, I had no idea what my parents did. I was clueless, and as an eight-year-old girl, I wanted to believe my mind was playing tricks on me. Yet each night I snuck out, I saw even more atrocities.
I spent my young life hiding in the dark because as soon as I opened my eyes, I was lost to the images of violence and blood that filled our home. The small town we lived in loved my stepfather, the local pastor. My mother, who was his secretary and assistant in the church, was as guilty as he was.
I learned about his penchant for "curing" women, men, girls and boys of their sins. Initially, I assumed he was abducting people from town, but I later learned that each face I saw distorted in pain belonged to someone who had come to him freely.
He used sex as if it were medication, as if it were a holy remedy to the darkness that swirled through our town.
We finally moved, and I shudder now to think of what could be found in the dirt beneath our house. Bodies. Parts of girls who were there solely for my parent’s amusement.
When I ran, I stumbled upon the convent. I was taken in by Sister Mary Margaret, and she’s been good to me. I don’t talk to the other women here because I don’t need friends. What I do need, however, is a visit with Father Dominic.
“There you are,” he says with a smirk that turns me into a quivering girl. He’s almost forty, handsome, tanned, and his black hair and dark eyes seem almost sinister in the house of the Lord.
“I thought of you all night,” I tell him as I close the distance between us. His hands automatically go to my hips, tugging me forward. The long black uniform I wear is meant to cover what one doesn’t want seen. But the moment we fall into his office, I lift the long hemline and throw it over my head.
My lace panties and bra are out of place for a convent, but I have my ways of ensuring I get what I need. And the gift from Father Dominic fits me perfectly.
His gaze burns me as it trails over my body. The heat of him is intoxicating. He turns and heads to his desk, settling in the large, leather chair. He beckons me with a crook of his finger, and I lock the door before heading toward him.
By the time I’m settled on the edge of his desk, my legs splayed with my feet on either armrest of his chair, I’m already soaking the pretty panties he bought me.
“This is pretty,” he says, tugging at the wet material. “But we won’t need