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Father Hiraga, I need to meet you soon. Can we meet in a confessional? I’ll be waiting your reply.
This was an email Hiraga had received at work one morning. There was no signature, and the sender’s address was none that he recognized. It was completely out of the ordinary for anyone to reach out for his priestly assistance through correspondence with his work email. If any of the brothers and sisters in the Seat of Saints wanted to talk to him, he could easily be reached at his desk in the Science Department. But given Hiraga’s heart, which could not sense the ulterior motives or malice of others, he couldn’t fathom it wasn’t someone genuine needing to bear their sins to him.
He sent back his reply with a time and reserved one of the confessional booths in the chapel. Then he opened a new email and shot a message to Roberto.
-I’m staying behind a little later tonight, so please go home without me.
It was ten minutes to the meeting time when Hiraga left work that evening and made his way downstairs to the chapel. Once he reached the sanctuary of the chapel, he made his way to the confessional, climbed into his side, and had a seat on the dimly lit bench. Checking his watch, it was four minutes to the meeting time. It was at this moment that he started to feel a bit of uncertainty over meeting the mysterious stranger. If Roberto were here, he would tell Hiraga to exercise more caution about spontaneous correspondence with strangers over email. For all they knew it could be Galdoune infiltrating or any other secret societies wanting to sink their claws into the Vatican’s power structure. But Hiraga would argue that whether friendly or not, a priest is obligated to extend themselves to anyone calling for their aid.
The sudden sound of knocking outside startled him to attention.
“Hello? This is Father Hiraga, who is it outside?”
The door to his side of the confessional swung open. A beautiful woman with dark curly hair and melancholic grey eyes stood in front of him. She was dressed in dark leather tights, an equally tight leather corset, and an overflowing ruffled cream shirt. A wine red velvet cape draped over her shoulders, and combined with the cold light streaming through the sanctuary’s windows, she looked like a vampire.
“Detective Fiona..!”
“I’m coming inside, please make room.” Fiona announced matter-of-factly.
Hiraga began to rise from his seat.
“Fiona, you’re supposed to be on the other side-”
“Please be quiet, someone might hear us.”
Fiona gently pushed Hiraga back inside the confessional and shut the door behind her.
With the bench in the way the space just fit both of them to stand, and they stood face to face. Yet she was not looking at Hiraga at all as her eyes roamed the confessional taking the space in.
“Er, were you the one who asked to meet me?” Hiraga asked.
“I am. I want to get to know you better, I know Master is quite fond of you. I feel as though you and I are on the same wavelength...”
Fiona said with little emotion in her voice, and when her eyes finally met his she outstretched her hand and began to gently caress the inside of his wrist with her thumb. A shiver went down Hiraga’s spine by the sudden touch and his brow furrowed.
“Master? Who is Master?” He asked.
“Lauren di Luca.” Fiona replied.
That name dropped on Hiraga like lightning striking a tree. Lauren! So he was okay!
He could barely contain his excitement.
“You know Lauren? How, how is he doing? Do you know where he is?”
At Hiraga’s exclamation, Fiona’s hand stopped caressing Hiraga’s wrist and her eyes cast toward the floor.
“I don’t know where he is. Master is always in hiding, and it feels like an eternity until I hear from him again. Oh, Master!”
With this cry she gave Hiraga’s wrist an involuntary squeeze. The distress in Fiona’s voice punctuated the air with anguish, it would be an understatement to say that Lauren meant the whole world to her. For Hiraga, it hadn’t occurred to him that there might be others outside Lauren’s family and himself that would miss Lauren so deeply, especially since Lauren never spoke of having friends and eschewed human emotion as mere chemical reactions of the brain. His heart twinged in sympathy for Fiona, he too wanted to see Lauren again.
But just what was the relationship between Lauren and Fiona anyway?
“Fiona, what is Lauren’s relationship with you?”
A wide smile grew across Fiona’s thin dark lips. It was like a switch was flipped, and her previous sadness had washed away.
“Master is my everything...no, I don’t think that is enough to describe him. I can barely imagine what my life was like before he opened my eyes, I adore him. When I get the opportunity to hear from him again, I feel reassured and I become alive! Ah, I suppose this is similar to how you feel about your god?”
Her words were like a wellspring sweetly gushing out. When talking about Lauren, the cold inflexible doll she seemed to resemble gave way as sheer ecstasy coursed through her every motion. Hiraga couldn’t relate at all to seeing Lauren the same way she did. He had seen him just like a little brother, himself the guardian of Lauren’s soul. It was amazing to him that Lauren could draw out that kind of obsession and inspiration in him from others. As for his own God, he could agree that he felt the same way for Him that Fiona claimed about Lauren.
“I cannot disagree with you. For there is not a moment where I will not depend on God more and more, for it is His boundless love that inspires me to see beyond myself. And it is His guidance that I am able to find peace.”
Hiraga spoke deeply from his holy heart.
Fiona listened with wide lucid eyes, her head tilted back exposing her ivory neck. She sighed wistfully.
“I knew you would feel the same way as me. God and Master…how beautiful it is that they are able to help us connect to the world, to others...”
Fiona then trailed off to capture Hiraga’s lips in a slow peck. Hiraga let out a quiet noise of protest, and turned his head away.
“Fiona, no, no we can’t...”
“Shh, even Father feels like this once in a while too..” Fiona interjected. She held his shoulders steady as if holding a mannequin, and pressed her lips against his once more. She was delicate, sensing his inexperience as she pursed nice and slow. Peppered in between his breaths were little gasps of surprise coming out of Hiraga. Her hands ran up and down his ribcage in a gentle motion as if soothing a baby animal.
Until now, Hiraga had never expressed attraction in a woman before, or anyone really for that matter. He knew attraction was an important component to the reproduction of the human species, but with he being a priest, and having an overall feeling of self consciousness over his feminine looks, he had ruled out sex entirely as a priority in his life. But Hiraga was still human, and Fiona’s body rubbing against his had awakened his desire.
Hiraga began to relax his body into Fiona’s kisses as he returned hers. This encouraged Fiona to insert her tongue through the gap in his mouth and deepen the kiss. A thrill of pleasure washed over Hiraga; his hands finally rose from his sides to wrap them around her. He felt the weight of Fiona’s body rub against his as she pressed him against the wall of the confessional. It was unreal how good it felt; lips and saliva and hands and pressure fervent and hot.
As Fiona kissed up Hiraga’s cheekbones down to his neck, he felt a spark of heat and pressure building between his legs. It was a dull ache, theoretically familiar, as if,
“Oh, it feels like getting your blood pressure taken...” He murmured drunkenly.
Fiona purred curiously.
“Mm, it does feel like that. doesn't it?” she whispered. The warmth of her breath against Hiraga’s neck tickled him. It occurred to Hiraga that she did know what he was trying to say, with the way his growing hardon had been pressed against her belly as they rubbed against each other.
Time felt slowed down as they embraced in the dark confessional. It was said that being in the dark can heighten the senses, and Hiraga could smell his and Fiona’s scents rubbing together. Some of his own soap and sweat mixed with her own musk. She smelled sort of like a graveyard, damp like rain. He remembered how cold her hands felt when she first touched him, and wondered how someone could feel so corpselike, yet so full of life. How interesting how cold one could smell, thought Hiraga.
Sensing that Hiraga’s hands were growing bored as they rested themselves on her back, she gently took one and guided him to touch her backside. Feeling confused and unlearnt, Hiraga splayed his long thin fingers as he experimented with petting her ass. He gave a firm squeeze, to Fiona’s delight as she moaned pleasantly.
“Please, like that…” she murmured.
This encouraged Hiraga, as he slowly massaged her ass with both hands. Up and down, his hands explored from the small of her back to the grotto of her thighs. In return, a hand snaked behind Hiraga’s head and with a flat palm, Fiona firmly pulled his hair. A rapturous moan tore itself from Hiraga’s throat. Suddenly, the sparks of heat that had been building inside him, like static clinging to a felt blanket, overwhelmed him at once as he broke away and let out a guttural moan. A sudden wetness began to dampen his trousers, and Hiraga realized that he had experienced an orgasm. He peeled himself away from Fiona.
“I…I…” Hiraga panted.
He wasn’t really sure what he was going to say as he was coming down, the pleasurable feeling of endorphins rolling in waves over his body. Fiona was panting as well, and she smiled. The striking grey in her eyes were near eclipsed by her dilated pupils.
“Wasn’t that fun?” She said breathily. Her curly hair was fluffed up at the sides, and her dark lipstick was now smudged across the corner of her mouth. In realization, Hiraga began to wipe his own mouth with the back of his sleeve.
“Mm, yes…” He agreed.
Hiraga’s heart wavered. He stood in silence waiting for Fiona to say something next; a confirmation of what had just happened. If anything to record in their hearts what they had shared for a single moment was one existence.
But Fiona didn’t have anything to say.
Using her fingers as a comb, she straightened the sides of her hair and pressed them flat to tame the frizz. Then Fiona quietly opened the door to the confessional. The temperature difference between the warm, steamy confessional and the cool air of the chapel became noticeable immediately. The light from the windows illuminating the sanctuary reminding Hiraga of the abandonment he had just partaken in.
“I feel like I know you better now. Father Hiraga, I hope we’ll be able to meet again soon.”
And with that she climbed out of the confessional and exited the sanctuary.
Once Hiraga ceased to hear the clacking of Fiona’s heels, he closed the door and retreated back into the confessional. With a strange faint smile he clasped his hands together to pray for his transgression. But the prayers struggled to come together in his mind.