TABOO TALES(erotica)

“Then what shall I call you?”

Tobias considered quickly. He was happy to relinquish the trappings of his office for this woman but instinct warned him that she probably valued them. It would be better to wait, perhaps, to see what she wanted. “The correct term is ‘Your Excellency'”, he replied, “but I find it a little over bearing. How about ‘Your Grace’?”

The coffee arrived and he sipped it thoughtfully, regarding the young woman before him. “You said the other day that your priest could not offer what you seek, Miss Cardoza,” he said gravely. “May I ask what that is? Perhaps I can help.”

Millie nodded. “My parents, God rest their souls, were killed in a car accident a few years ago -‘ she acknowledged his murmur of sympathy with a small nod. “They left me in a fortunate position – a nice apartment and a considerable endowment, so I live comfortably with no need to work.” She smiled ruefully. “I suppose it is the dream of most people – you know, not to have to worry about the future, and I am truly grateful for the Lord’s providence. But despite my good fortune, I find my life empty… lonely, even.” She sipped at her glass, her eyes on the Bishop’s face. “I’ve tried connecting with people, I really have, but in many cases I find my wealth is a barrier, and even where it is not, I find people shallow. Is that awful of me?”

Tobias wondered about the professional title on her card, but let it pass. “We can only find what we really desire in the bosom of the Church, Miss Cardoza, and sometimes not even then. I assume that’s the problem you had with your Priest?”

“It was. He was content to talk in the confessional but would not engage beyond that.”

“And what sort of engagement did you expect?”

“Far more than he was prepared to offer, Your Grace.” She leaned forward and rested her hand on the sleeve of his jacket. “I need someone in my life I can trust and respect. Someone who is pure in body and spirit, and will not take me or my possessions for granted.”

“I understand.” Tobias was keenly aware of the touch of her hand. Was it a simply a demonstration of trust in him, as a minister of the church, or was it something else? Perhaps a little sign that she craved more than words? He examined her face for clues but, unlike so many of the other women he had possessed, this one was difficult to read. Her honey coloured eyes were on his and in their depths he could only detect a glimmer of amusement and, perhaps, a flicker of promise. It was there for just an instant but was enough to elicit a tingle of excitement in his belly, just as a hunter might feel when he first sights his prey.

“The bible has many things to say about wealth,” Tobias continued, “but the one I often think about is in the book of Revelations.” He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the passage he required, and he quoted it in the honeyed tones of a sermon. “You say, “I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing. But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.” He opened his eyes to see puzzlement on her face, and hurried to explain. “The language is divine, Miss Cardoza – don’t you think? And it perfectly describes most wealthy people – but not you. I think you already understand the shallowness of wealth and the value of spiritual comfort.”

Millie nodded. “I believe that is right, Your Grace, but it has been hard to find anyone who understands that.”

“Then I would be honoured if you would allow me to offer you comfort and friendship, in whatever way you wish.”

She nodded in acknowledgement and they were silent for a few moments. The cafe was busy and he saw that she scrutinised every person who came in, almost as if expecting someone she knew. He didn’t mind – it gave him a chance to study her carefully: the oval face set on a long, graceful neck; the full lips and high cheekbones giving a kind of regal appearance. He saw that her hair, which he’d thought just pinned up, was exquisitely coiffured, with plaits intertwined in the dark glossy swirls. He noticed the expensive accessories, too: the Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses; the slim Paiget Gala watch, perfectly matching the silver earrings and pendant. The latter was fashioned in the shape of a heart embracing the cross of Jesus, lying just above the hint of her cleavage. Simple jewellery that spoke of wealth, but without vulgarity. Everything about this woman reinforced his early impression of breeding and class.

Millie became aware of his scrutiny and smiled. “That’s very kind of you, your Grace, and I’m happy to accept. Perhaps we might have dinner one evening? I live not far from here.”

“Maybe it would be better to get to know one another through the ministrations of the Church,” he replied smoothly. “I hold Mass in St Patrick’s Cathedral every Sunday, though the mornings are busy. If you attended the evening service, I can offer counselling afterwards in my sacristy.” He watched her closely.

She nodded slowly. “Of course, Your Grace, if that is what you think. I’ll be there this Sunday. May I take confession first?”

“Certainly, my child.” He glanced at his watch. “Now, I must go. I’ll look forward to seeing you then.”

Millie pressed her lips to the proffered episcopal ring, and watched as he walked away. Normally men were in a hurry to get into her bed, but this one seemed cautious. No matter – there was no rush. She could be patient.

*

As he drove home, Bishop Tobias thought about the meeting he’d just had. There was no doubt that Amelia Cardoza was an attractive woman, and if she really did want more than spiritual guidance he was perfectly positioned to provide it. He spent a pleasant few minutes thinking about her body what he would do to it if the opportunity presented itself.

But there was something about the situation that urged caution. Her story was plausible but her eyes disturbed him: those almond-shaped eyes, with honey irises shot through with strands of filigree gold. They should have been filled with expression – laughter, sadness, apprehension or desire. They should have been windows into her soul, the means to express all that was happening behind that beautiful face: but they were not. A word popped into his mind to describe them: predatory. They were eyes of a leopard – flat, vigilant, calculating, cold; taking in everything but giving little in return. The eyes of a hunter.

For the first time Tobias felt a prickle of real apprehension – she was delicious, it was true, but with an aura of danger. He would need to be careful, and, if his suspicions were true, he could show no mercy. He would fuck her bloody and leave her to crawl into a gutter, regretting she’d ever met him, and he would move on to safer, sweeter prey. He felt his senses quicken. This was going to be fun.

The thought of taking her forcefully reminded him of his first sexual conquest, with his cousin Suzannah. She’d been a plain faced girl but there was nothing wrong with her body, which was luscious. Better still, she was just beginning to explore her sexuality, which gave that delicious blend of ignorance, innocence and unrequited desire. Suzannah Wilson had been ripe for the taking, even though she hadn’t realised it.

He’d put up with her teasing for a week or two, waiting for the right moment. It came one evening when the parents went to a movie and they were alone, something Suzy had seemed happy with – to begin with at least. She’d hooked into the wine cask in the fridge and then laughingly suggested an impromptu striptease to ‘see what each of us has got.’ But the young John hadn’t been interested in games and, after subduing her with a blow to the side of the head, had tied her to a bed and fucked her vaginally for an hour or so, before finishing off in her ass. He could still remember the tightness of those two virginal rings, and her shrieks as he took her in each one.

The sound of a car horn broke his chain of thought and Bishop Tobias waved an apology and drew away from the green light. He recalled with satisfaction the final moments with his cousin – the long jets of his seed entering her body, the groan of utter dismay as she felt them. He recalled the whiteness of it, dribbling from her anus as he withdrew; and his laughter as he watched her curl up, sobbing. He wondered what had happened to Suzy: the family had moved to Perth shortly afterwards and not a word of what happened had ever been said. It was as it should have been – she was just a cheap tart who had deserved everything he’d done to her. And it had been prophetic, too, as she’d shown him just how strong he was, and how he could take whatever he wanted. It was something he’d never forgotten.

As he locked his car in the underground car park and walked to his lift, John Tobias thought how he’d used those skills for most of his life, and how he would use them again. Not necessarily for Millie Cardoza, who might yet be what she said she was, but certainly for Jennifer Griffith. He had plans for her, and it was going to be a hell of a ride.Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

*****

“We’ve got it,” Rose Mulquinney said.

David felt a surge of excitement at her words. “Is it enough?” he asked.

“Everything you ever dreamed of and more. You can bury the prick, if you want to.” She paused delicately. “This is pretty sensitive stuff, though. Perhaps we should meet… there’s things best not said over the phone.”

They met at the same cafe, Rose waiting for him at a secluded table with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. She’d already organised drinks and she sipped hers quietly, waiting for him to speak.

He settled in his chair and regarded her appreciatively, noting the perfect hair and make-up and the expensive dress. This lady had a hell of a lot of class, despite the stigma of her profession. “How are you Rose?”

“Good thanks. And you?”

He grimaced briefly. “Too busy. I’d like to slow down the world and get off for a day or two.”

“Then do it.”

“Not up to me, my friend, and business is business. Speaking of which, how is yours?”

Rosie smiled. “Booming. You know the old expression? Nothing is more certain than death and taxes?” she saw him nod. “Well, they should have added a third – that rich old men will always be happy to buy young pussy.”

He laughed. “God is cruel, isn’t he, to keep men’s sex drive going even when their bodies are old and wrinkled. Maybe he should turn it off at 70.”