The Right Reverend

Reverend Martin Jones was ruminating. He was alone. He was standing in the vestry of his modest church. More of a chapel really. He was surrounded by cassocks and other vestments, some neatly hung, some piled in corners waiting their turn. And all around the special and quite particular smell of vestries everywhere. A sort of mustiness unique to well used clerical clothing. His own clerical clothing was undone. Well, at least his trouser fly was open. He had his cock out. And he was gently massaging it to assist him in his ruminations. It was a big stiff cock, and quite popular with some of the ladies of the parish. On an occasional basis, of course. He wondered sometimes if they compared notes. But today his thoughts were directed elsewhere.

Martin was approaching forty from the far side of thirty five. He stood around five foot ten, still quite lean and fit, medium build, with a handsome friendly face atop of which sprouted a crop of curly black hair, shot with enough grey to bestow the look of more wisdom than he felt he deserved. He had been the priest at the seaside dormitory village of Llanfellydd since his ordination, and had seen the place grow considerably over the last fifteen or so years. It was really a small town now.

He was well known locally and by the wider church hierarchy as being good with young people. But he was not so popular with the older generations who actually kept up their churchgoing, as opposed to letting it fall by the wayside as the temptations of the wider world elbowed their way into young lives so often these days. He had set up a village Youth Club as one of his first acts on his arrival and since seen and helped many young people grow up and go off to make their way in the world. But he had not advanced in rank. His sermons were a little too near the mark for comfort. His humour a little too irreverent for the official cloak of priestliness. Neither he nor the church establishment were at all unhappy about this. He was a round peg in a round hole. And there had been no religious revolution in Llanfellydd.

At the moment he was thinking about one of the young folk who had gone on to greater things than hereabouts could offer. He had always been scrupulously well behaved towards his younger charges. To teens someone in their twenties was an out of date fossil, and to a twenty something a teen was a naïve child, so that was natural from the start. He was delighted when they succeeded in negotiating the early hurdles of life, and many had fond memories of the fun they had and the overblown dramas of growing up. But reunions were few and far between. And usually slightly stilted when they did occur. Being reminded by a priest of your gangling adolescent days was not necessarily a young adult's first choice.

All that had changed suddenly a few weeks ago. Judy had come back. He wasn't sure why, but he was dead sure about the effect she was having. On him.

Judy had been a livewire youngster. Attractive, bright, and a good leader. As well as a regular Club attendee she had made it to Queen's Guide, was school hockey captain, and got a scholarship to read science at Cambridge. Her boyfriend at the time had been Neil, a quiet Scot who had none of the usual male adolescent clumsiness, and had been something of a hit with the young ladies without even trying before Judy appeared to have nailed him. Or perhaps more accurately encouraged him to nail her. Martin was pretty sure she had lost her virginity to Neil in this very vestry over a decade ago. Neil had been an alter boy in early youth and the vestry was a masterful choice out of church hours in the days when the church was left unlocked. Nowadays not so easy. There had been whispers amongst the clubbies and Martin had found evidence. He suspected it had been left so he would know his charges were practicing safe sex.

Right now he was imagining Judy lying on her back on a heap of cassocks with her skirt round her waist, her knickers off, her knees pulled up and lying apart, and her cunt pinkly dripping with anticipation for Neil, who stood before her rolling the evidence onto his proud young erection.

He found he could readily construct what was probably an acutely accurate tableau because he could remember exactly what they both habitually wore and how they looked together. He could almost hear their voices as they lovingly encouraged each other before Neil knelt between Judy's legs prior to defloration. Martin was by now stroking his cock with vigour, nearing the point where he was in danger of leaving a fair amount of evidence himself, splattered all over the cassock heap. But he stopped dead. There were footsteps echoing through the church. Clackety metallic footsteps. And the days of metal heel repairs once used on men's shoes were long gone. These were the footsteps of a lady in heels.

"Shit!" It was Monday morning. No-one came to church on Monday morning.

He exited the vestry swiftly, in a much tidier state than momentarily before, glancing across towards the aisle as he shut the door. And there was Judy, looking stunning in a bright yellow two-piece and white blouse. Her dark hair was in an immaculate bob, and a warm smile spread across her face as she turned towards the noise and saw him approaching.

"I wasn't expecting anyone here at this time of day. I was surprised to find the place open," she said.

"Likewise. And I opened up. So, of course, I wasn't expecting anyone either. What's up?"

"Lost an earring. I think it might have come off at yesterday's service. Diamond." She flicked her bob and a diamond flashed below her left ear. "I was just about to look under the pews near where I sat."

He remembered where she had been sitting. He had noticed her each Sunday since her recent return, and her presence had affected him to the point where he had to work hard to keep on message during the sermon. She always dressed smartly, immaculately in fact, and ever so slightly provocatively. Maybe he was imagining things that weren't, but she seemed to hitch up her skirt just a little too far to kneel, and not quite get it back into position after the prayer. There were occasional flashes of stocking top and more. Just for a moment. But he'd found standing in the pulpit with an erection while doing the Lord's work a completely new experience. He had always been in control of that sort of thing, he thought. But now he wasn't. It was a little unnerving.

"You're not really dressed for poking around under pews," he observed.

"I wasn't expecting anyone to be here. Suddenly there's a requirement to be ladylike for which I'd not planned, if you get my meaning."

He got it all right. He tried to banish the immediate thoughts of her with her skirt hitched right up, and her knickers tightly stretched across her glorious buttocks, as she rolled around on the church floor peering under the furniture. His prior erection was fighting its way back. This was not going well.

"Perhaps I could help do the peering while you issued instructions on where to peer," he offered. He knew just where he would like to peer, but the furniture would have to do for the moment.

"Deal."

He realised as he walked towards her that the around ten year age difference which would have once been an insurmountable gulf did not seem to matter now. She would be heading for thirty now. They were both adults. What did matter was whatever baggage they'd each accumulated in the interim. His erection subsided as his concentration switched to managing the situation. The direct approach, he thought.

"Are you still Judy Skinner, or did Neil or some other beau persuade you to go for the name change?"

She laughed. "I'm still Judy Skinner. Footloose and fancy free. I'm a dedicated career girl I'm afraid and I think a lot of men find me a bit daunting. And work gives me little time for the few who've made an effort. Neil was lovely, but that was then, and we both went off to colleges and did our thing. I haven't heard from him in several years. What about you? Hasn't one of the Llanfellydd cougar pack managed to get her claws into you?"

Martin smiled. "I must confess I've taken the occasional clawing, and very enjoyable it may have been. But I've been quite protective of my freedom, although I've now got to the age where keeping up the wall shield requires a lot of effort, and sometimes a chap can't be arsed."

"Watch your back then. They were a dangerous lot. I think I was in this row." She waved an arm.

Damn right you were thought Martin. He sidled past the row of pews until he was beside her and then shuffled along to about half way. Putting his right hand on the pew back and his left on the back of the next he let himself down onto his knees and then the floor. He could now see under both pews, although a wooden spar ran the length under each midway, so half the floor was partially obscured. And kneelers were obstacles to clear sight too. He knew where she had been sitting but didn't want to make it too obvious by searching there first. So, he shuffled backwards, carefully scanning to either side. After a couple of metres of shuffling there it was, a silver curl and attached dangling diamond trapped under a kneeler. He turned and looked back along the row toward her.

He had arrived in heaven early. And Saint Peter wasn't asking any awkward questions. Directly in front of him at the end of the row Judy was squatting to watch the process. Her legs were parted, she'd hitched her skirt up to squat, and he was treated to a view of white knickers disappearing between bare flesh above tightly clipped medium dark stockings. The subsided erection he'd forgotten all about rematerialised as instantly as if he had been a spotty sixteen year old in a porn shop.

"Can you see it?" she asked.

"I've got a lovely clear view," he replied. "And I've found the earring too!"

All things must end. The pleasures of life are only fleeting. If they weren't they'd soon stop being pleasurable he thought. He reached up with his free hand and levered himself to a sitting position which put him at eye level. He grinned and displayed the earring.

"Whoopee!" she shrieked. And gracefully moved onto the pew and slid towards him. "You'd best compare it to the one I'm wearing," she said, and flicked her bob aside again.

He held his find against the dangling jewel. They looked identical so he made to drop his into her right hand. She took it and put it on. "Now I've got my balance back. Thanks indeed."

"But you've got the drop on me. You know I'm a clergyman. I was a clergyman when we first met, and I still am, and I'm still living in the same place. But I've no idea what you've been up to these past ten years or so." He left the bald statement hanging in the air as they sat side by side, the only people in that quiet church on a Monday morning, now about to play hide and seek with their past.

"That's a bit unfair. I know next to nothing about your life before you arrived in Llanfellydd. And not that much about your life then. I was just one of the kids in your goldfish bowl. The view out of the bowl at that age was a bit distorted."

"OK, so who goes first?"

"What about coffee somewhere?" she rejoined. "And I confess I need the loo."

"Always ready to help a damsel in distress. Coffee will be served at the Rectory directly. But first, the loo is at the back of the vestry." He gestured in the direction of the vestry door he'd come from, partially concealed by black curtains. "After you go in, opposite the entrance door there's a small closet at the back with a handbasin. Once you go through the vestry door it may jog your memory," he added with a trace of a smile. She gave him the raised eyebrow treatment and sauntered off. He looked after her, her firm buttocks beautifully packaged in that close cut skirt, and felt a burst of intense longing he could never remember experiencing. What had got into him, he thought.

The Rectory was a four bedroom Victorian redbrick and rendering job, with white woodwork and modern windows. If it could speak it would have expressed disappointment with Martin. Sure, he kept the interior immaculate, and the church saw to the grounds and exterior. But it was a house built for a family and there wasn't one. It had witnessed a variety of ladies attempt to fix this with equally varying degrees of eagerness. They had provided an excellent education for Martin on how to do the passion thing, but he was scrupulously careful about contraception. And the more eager and amoral of his would-be-wives knew damn well that if they fell pregnant with someone else and tried to hang it on Martin, he would demand a paternity test. The result would then leave them holding the baby but not the Reverend. And there would be a parish scandal, in which they would have cast themselves as unwitting stars.

So Martin had got through unscathed. But he knew he had been lucky, and that lady luck didn't cast the dice the same way every time. Which made him vulnerable. The next time, if next time there was, had to be with a potential keeper. He attempted nonchalance as they walked amiably up the tarmac drive to the front porch. He whipped out a key, waved her in, and closed the door behind. "Straight down the wee hall to the end. That's the kitchen."

"Nice," she said, as he pulled out a chair by the table and she sat herself down.

And it was. An eating area where she sat, beside a modest island with a white grained marble top and Belfast sink. And the usual surrounding units and appliances in a mix of white and a bright light off-white which wasn't magnolia, but one of the multitude of surrogates that did the same job well. All topped at work level with the same white marble.

"Collections must be good," she observed.

"There have been quite a few occupants over the years, and the church likes to make sure that its investment is kept at top value in case of the need to sell. A very real possibility in these days of economic stringency and falling church rolls. Filter, plunger, instant, espresso in one of those old hexagonal jug things? Milk etc? If you want a latte I can't do patterns."

"I like it black, unadorned. So a big plunger's worth, if that's available."

"So do I. It is. Easy."

And he set to work getting the water on, fishing out the mugs, and spooning ample coffee into a large plunger. "So how do you make a living, and what brings you round to this backwater again? Seeing the family?"

"That's two questions. I'll answer the first then take a crack at you. I left Cambridge with a science degree and an interest in aerospace stuff. With a number of friends from Cambridge and elsewhere we set up a small company dedicated to solving practical aerospace engineering problems. Satellite payload design and build, that sort of thing. We had a good range of skills, including engineering design, manufacturing and IT people. The idea was to grow by pitching for projects, and building our experience and equipment inventory project by project. We've been at it just over 10 years. We formed the Company while at uni and started with projects which were provided by our tutors who were working in collaboration with the sector. Now we have a sizeable shed in the Swansea Valley and lots of shiny kit to play with. And our services are very much in demand, worldwide."

"Wow!"

"I'm glad you're impressed. So what about you? How did you get into the religious game? You're nothing like the normal image of the priesthood."

"Well, it wasn't where I started. I did science at Cambridge too after getting the necessary grades at the local comp. I was a bit of a nerd as a lad. No, I'll rephrase. I was a complete nerd. Chemistry was my best subject and I really enjoyed organic. I probably had some of the same lecturers as you did, but they'd be younger. And some of my grad student supervisors would have been your lecturers. But in the second year I saw God in the electron energy level diagram which showed why life was carbon based, and not centred on some other element in the periodic table. Knocked all the silly sci-fi stuff out of the park. After completing the second year I switched to Divinity. You'll spot that there's a whole lot of growing up angst and stuff the summary glosses over, but that's it in a nutshell. If I tried to expand it would turn into a sermon of the sort which would have me administering CPR to bring you around."

"Now it's my turn to say Wow! I'm here visiting family, yes. But I'm on a period of extended leave, a sort of mini-sabbatical if you like, to sort out a personal issue. The way our wee Company works is very unconventional. For example, we are in it for the excitement and to play with the toys. We're not trying to make a killing by selling off to some big investment corporation so we can all take our pile to our chosen offshore island and drink pina coladas on a beach for the rest of our lives."

"Who gave you the earrings?"

"Me. Or the Company, really. To celebrate our 10 year milestone we got together to dream up how. A whole load of ideas went onto the white board and then we sat back and started to debate; but we quickly segued to pick whatever you personally fancy from the list and do that. Because we're all a bunch of fierce individualists when it comes to out of work stuff. And sometimes in work. I picked 'Get something you really want but would never buy because you're waiting for someone to give it to you.' The earrings will go with the ring I haven't got yet, but I'd like someone someday to give me."

"So I'm your priest. Time for confession. What's this personal issue?"

"Nothing to confess I'm afraid. Yet. Confession's about sins isn't it? No sin yet."

"Sneaky sidestep!"

"Sneaky try-on."

"I've got a feeling you're talking about closing on some romantic interest."

"I have to admit you're getting warm."

"Well, as your priest I'd be honoured to officiate at your wedding if you're planning something in that direction."

"That's really kind of you, but it probably won't be possible."

"Someone of a different faith then?"

"No. A good Christian of sorts, though I sometimes wonder if he's really committed to all the bells and whistles."

"No issue there. Our beliefs are purely a matter of chance. They depend almost entirely on where you were born and brought up. I could have been an imam, a rabbi, or a Buddhist monk. It's the luck of the draw I'm what I am."

"You've just made my point perfectly."

"Anyway, the offer remains."

He placed her mug of steaming coffee in front of her and sat down opposite with his. He pushed a plate of mint biscuits towards her. "Help keep your energy levels up," he quipped.

"You haven't worked it out have you?"

"Worked what out?"

"You're my mark."

Martin froze. He suddenly felt lightheaded and out of this world. In the space of an hour or so he'd been interrupted in the middle of a vigorous wank over a woman who had reappeared ten years or so after he had last seen her as a teenager. He'd found that very woman in his church on a normally deserted Monday morning, she'd given him the most erotic upskirt view he'd ever experienced, and now she was effectively proposing marriage and probably about to throw herself on the mercy of his cock.

The brain between his legs had made up its mind what to do about all this some time ago, and was getting very impatient with the standard of communication it was getting with the head brain. What it didn't appreciate was that the head brain was in the middle of a complete reboot. Judy observed him placidly, cradling her mug of coffee and awaiting output from the temporarily overloaded system.

Martin played for time. "I don't know what to do here," he tried.

Judy smiled, her calm eyes gazing into his rather surprised ones. "You know exactly what to do Martin. You come well recommended in that department. It's just that it wasn't in your diary for today. We can sort that." Those garrulous tarts have been comparing notes, he thought ungenerously. "And it's now time for me to admit that in a way I did have the drop on you, just not in the way you thought. And to make a request. It is confession time. You know or guess that I lost my virginity to Neil in your vestry, and I'm immensely grateful for the way you didn't interfere with any of us clubbies' amorous adventures. What you don't know, and this is deeply personal, is that I enjoyed that experience greatly, but from the moment Neil entered me I closed my eyes and thought of you. I think he was quite taken by my level of enthusiasm compared to some of his other girlfriends. What he didn't know was that it wasn't for him. I came back because I've been carrying the candle for a long while now, and I needed to know if the flame was for real or just a long nurtured adolescent crush. It's real alright. That's why I'm here. My plan was to find some way for us to meet socially in a suitable setting and the dropped earring was a godsend. I was expecting the church to be locked so that I had to come over to the Rectory to ask for the key, but your appearance couldn't have been better timed. I don't want to be bedded here until we're properly and publicly recognised as an item, should that be how it turns out, and preferably wearing the appropriate ring. What I'd like right now is to go back to your vestry and for our first time to be there. And for you to use a condom this time. It will give you the opportunity to test the goods out. I may not be to your liking."