Our Lady of Pain

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Under his strong hand, Gregory’s c**k thickened as he thought of her. Unlike other priests, Father Gregory would never dream of taking a vow of celibacy. This was his religion, not the religion of the Catholics or Protestants and he’d worked hard to get where he was now. And he’d work just as hard to get Corinne. It was always the same image even after all these years. Corinne had become an obsession. He meant to make her one of his. In his mind he created the vision of her kneeling before him naked, a steel collar around her neck. She had a full, round body, very female and rich. Her ass was perfect. It would be a pleasure to take her over his knee and spank her until she cried. A length of chain had been connected to the collar and Gregory saw himself holding the other end. He’d pull her in slowly. At first, he’d feel the chain tug back in his hand as she resisted. But, eventually she yielded and crawled across the floor on her hands and knees, her breasts hanging down and swaying as she approached. In his fantasy, Gregory pulled her to his c**k that was already thick and ready. She’d suck him until he came in her mouth.

He moaned in his bed, fondling his balls and shaft, imagining her hot mouth surrounding him. His hand worked slow and steady at first. His ass would flex and push his c**k harder into his own grip. Flying solo would soon be a thing of the past.

Pre-c*m dribbled from the tip of his s*x and he used it to make his hand slide more smoothly over the shaft. He pumped harder, grunting and shoving faster until the rush of ejaculation made him spasm and buck beneath the covers in a roar. As he lay there, shivering with release in the darkness, Gregory made a promise to himself. This would be his last time doing this without her. The next time he came it would be in her mouth or up her ass. After all, if he could not control himself, how would he be able to control Corinne?

“And, oh, dear Corinne, I know how you long to be controlled,” he chuckled to himself, stretched out on the big bed and slept.

With a whine, she smacked her hand on the snooze button of the alarm clock. Her mind had refused to shut off and she’d gotten very little sleep. Calling in sick crossed her mind but Sue would have a fit and fall in it if Corinne dared to do such a thing, especially now, the last Friday of the month when all the final reports had to be handed in. She hauled herself out of bed, staggered down the hallway and into the bathroom. By the time she emerged, she should have smelled coffee but she didn’t. “Damn it,” Corinne grumbled, realizing she’d forgotten to change the filter and set the timer the previous night. She hated instant but this morning it would have to do. She didn’t have time now to brew anything. With a full travel mug in one hand, her purse, tote and car keys in the other, she headed out the door.

“You’re in a bit later than usual,” sue stood by the company coffee pot, pouring a cup and helping herself to one of the dozen donuts someone had brought in.

“Yeah.” Corinne hated confrontation. “I’ll work late if you want. My alarm clock didn’t go off. Sorry,” she flung her bags into the bottom drawer of one of the two-drawer filing cabinets she called hers.

“As long as the month end reports get done, I don’t care how long you stay.” My, that was mighty generous of her, Corinne thought. Sue knew damn well the reports wouldn’t get done unless Corinne put in some overtime because Heaven forbid Sue should have to do even the simplest of them. All she ever did was sign the damn things. “No problem.”

“No heavy date tonight, eh?”

“No, no heavy date or a light one either, for that matter.” Corinne tried to joke but Sue just stood there giving her a blank look. For someone that was supposed to be so well educated, Sue could be as daft as a blonde joke more times than not. “It was a joke,” Corinne started to explain. “A heavy date as opposed to a light one.”

“Oh,” Sue said. “Well, no time for chit-chat,” she snatched another donut and retreated to her office, closing the door behind her solidly.

“TGIF, eh?” Aaron Bennett strolled into the office with a yawn. “Oh, who brought donuts?” Corinne just shrugged and filled her travel mug half way with fresh brewed coffee. “Friday the twenty-seventh,” Aaron chirped sarcastically. “You know what that means?”

“Sue got her new set of fangs?”

He roared with laughter and patted Corinne on the shoulder. “You really shouldn’t let her get to you so much, sweetie. She’s mostly harmless. Just let her think she’s in charge and we all live happily ever after.”

“Speak for yourself. You actually seem to like your job.”

“What’s not to like? Hours of fun fiddling with number and receipts, finding various ways to dodge The Boss Lady’s poisoned darts and then there is the company of all you fine ladies I have to deal with,” he gave her a playful nudge and wink. “Know what I mean?” Aaron was the token male in the finance office and gay almost to the point of flamboyance. “Besides looking like you were run over by a pack of wild dogs, how are you this morning?”

“Just spiffy,” she rolled her eyes at him. It was impossible to stay grumpy when Aaron was around. “Your fabulosity is blinding me today, by the way.”

“Just today? I think I’m insulted.”

“Don’t you have a cubicle to decorate or something?”

“Ah yes, you’re right. I do. Not to mention all the fan-mail I need to answer,” he turned like a runway model and wiggled his way down the corridor to his cube.

“Aaron, you are so gay,” Corinne called out.

“Thank you, sweetie. I love you, too,” he called out with a gleeful cackle.

Corinne made her way to her one little corner of the office, switched on the computer and worked her way through a lunch eaten at her desk. At six Sue poked her head over the edge of the dividing wall. “I’m heading out,” she announced. “Almost done there?”

“Just one more to finish. Another half hour at least.”

“Put it on my desk. I’ll sign it on Monday. Have a good weekend,” sue didn’t wait for an answer and Corinne didn’t give her one. Aaron and the rest of the crew had left an hour ago. Corinne was alone, again. She was getting another one of her headaches. The figures blurred on the screen. By now they were all starting to look alike. But she wanted to get this done and over with. It must be important to someone because it sure wasn’t important to Corinne.

She clicked the mouse on the blue button on the bottom of her screen and brought up a search engine. “Anne Rice bibliography,” she typed in, knowing she didn’t have time to goof around with this sort of thing but now that she was alone, she couldn’t help it. Her computer at home shuffled along at a zombie’s pace. There it was; the book. The cover was different than what she remembered but that was the book. And two more that went with it. She hadn’t known there were three in the set. Corinne had an active account with an online bookseller and went there next. They had them and at a very reasonable price, too. Corinne stared at the screen, finger poised over the mouse button that would start the order process.

She closed the window. “No. Get your work done first. Work.” Corinne rubbed her eyes and focused. In forty-five minutes she slipped the final copy under Sue’s door, switched off the lights and left the building.

For some reason she imagined finding Gregory leaning up against her car. When he wasn’t there, a strange feeling of disappointment struck her. Perhaps he wasn’t the stalker she’d made him out to be. If he was, certainly he’d know where she worked by now and her home address and phone number. The Internet made easy work nowadays for the modern stalker. He would have called, right? He would have contacted her if she or that book and she really meant that much to him. Clearly they didn’t. She looked back up at the building. Other lights indicated there were still a few people left inside. It wasn’t quite seven and the building closed at eight.

She went back inside, flipped on the overhead light and returned to her desk. She’d make this quick and then get out of here. “Gregory Monroe,” she entered into the white pages database along with the local zip code. One match. Corinne scrolled down further. Monroe, Gregory, 1300 Berkshire Terrace. It listed a phone number, too. Why on Earth would a priest live there? Weren’t they supposed to live in some sort of isolated monastery?

Berkshire Terrace was the most expensive part of town to live in. It was secluded and what little you could see of some of the houses from the road, they all resembled English manors. Anyone who was anyone lived in Berkshire Terrace, but a priest? The gap between them grew. Corinne was a simple, small town girl, born and raised. She’d never been west of the Mississippi. She’d never traveled abroad and the furthest she’d been north was the Canadian side of Niagara Falls. Still, she jotted down the address and number before turning everything off with a vague feeling of guilt. How had someone from North Valley managed to get so rich? Maybe he’d been born into money, but she doubted that. Corinne was getting the sneaking suspicion that Father Monroe was anything but your garden variety Jesuit. Most of the kids who went to North Valley had farmers or factory workers for parents. The lucky ones had parents who worked for one of the nearby colleges. The name Monroe didn’t ring any bells with her at all. Had there been a wealthy family in town, Corinne would have at least heard of them.

Wealth and some pretty good looks, Corinne mused on the way home. And he was interested in her for some reason, some reason related to that book. Maybe he wanted her to be his secret s*x slave. She laughed out loud. People don’t really do any of that stuff, do they? Like anyone would want her as a s*x-slave, certainly not a perverted priest, not with her plain looks and over-ripened body. Certainly no-one like him would want her. He could probably have his choice of any number of younger more nubile waifs or nuns or whatever. He couldn’t want her. Not in a million, billion years. No, he had some other motive. But what?

The maddening weekend stretched out in front of him. Maddening because now that he’d made direct contact with her, he couldn’t stop thinking of her. Gregory picked up the phone and dialed. “Mother Janet, it’s Father Monroe. You and Brother Terry up for a little get together on the boat Saturday night? Yeah? Great. You think Connie and Jerry would be interested? Yeah, I know, I’ve been out of circulation a while, still am. I’m working on that though. No, Sister Lisa was a little too promiscuous, even for my tastes. Couldn’t keep her hands or mouth off the next available Brother, if you know what I mean. Megan? Sure. That would be great. See you all about seven.” Gregory made three more calls. A private party should keep his mind otherwise occupied. It always felt good to give some lucky Sister a red ass with the palm of his hand or a wooden paddle. It was still early enough to head to the store for supplies and start cleaning the boat. He’d spend the night there just like he and Mother Gen used to before they’d taken her away.

Gen had loved the party boat. It was her pride and joy. God knows the men who fawned over her weren’t, though she led them to believe they were all very special and her favorite. Fact was, Gen lacked the capacity to love as far as Gregory could tell. Lust ‘em and Leave ‘em was her motto. He’d seen that in action more times than he cared to count. She’d loved her boat so much she’d even named it after herself. “The Lady Genevive” was still painted in bold black and gold on the side and along the back. Gregory had meant to change it but thought he remembered some rumor that it was considered bad luck to rename a boat. Besides, it was just a name and it didn’t matter to him what the thing was called. At least it was a pretty name and for all her faults, Gen had been a pretty lady.

Mother Genevive, or Professor Prentice as they were supposed to call her during hours, the lady with the ebony hair and eyes to match, had been his English professor in college. She’d taken a shine to young Gregory that very first year. “I have a feeling about you,” she told him. “And my feelings about people are seldom wrong. Meet me later at the Dragon Café. We’ll talk there.”

“I’d like to give you some private spiritual guidance, Mr. Monroe,” she’d said rather cryptically. The café was packed and any sort of private conversation either of them may have hoped for was not about to happen there. She slid a business card from out of her purse. It wasn’t the one she kept on her desk in the classroom. It was white letters printed on black paper. “Mother Genevive, Saint Dolores Chapel, Our Lady of Pain,” it read in tiny flowing script and gave her personal phone number.

“Spiritual guidance?” Gregory was convinced he was looking into the eyes of some cult leader now. He didn’t want anything to do with that.

Genevive’s laugh was deep for a woman. “Dear boy, the good Lord works in mysterious ways,” she’d handed him a thin booklet with nothing on the cover but the words, “Our Lady of Pain”. She had given him a very unprofessional wink and left the café.

“Spiritual guidance, indeed, my lovely Genevive.” Gregory retreated to the master bedroom, grabbed a small suitcase and began to pack.

“Since when do you smoke?” Deb eyed Corinne with an air of disgust. “Put that thing away. You’ll kill us both.”

“Sorry.” Corinne snubbed out the cigarette. She didn’t know why she’d bought the pack. She didn’t smoke, never had.

“What’s going on, hon? This isn’t like you at all. Boss Lady being a pain in the ass?” Debra Cooper had been one of Corinne’s best friends since grade school. It was a strange friendship. Corinne always thought of Deb as one of the popular girls. She’d been a varsity cheerleader, ran track, joined the drama club. Corinne was just looked at as some sort of misfit. But the bond she had with Deb went way back and not even the trials and tribulations of high school could tear it apart. Corinne had been maid-of-honor for Debra’s wedding and vice-versa. Both marriages had failed for very different reasons but through it all they had had each other.

Corinne looked down into her coffee cup and then closed her eyes, struggling to hold back the tears. “I don’t know.”

“Hey.” Deb’s eyes filled with concern. “This is me you’re talking to. You can tell me anything, you know that,” she handed Corinne a tissue.

Corinne wiped her eyes and heaved a sigh, gathering herself up again. “You remember anyone named Gregory Monroe in school? He would have been a senior when we were freshman.”

Deb nodded. “Yeah, I remember Greg. Kinda of a geeky, greasy-haired guy with zits and B.O.”

“What?”

“Why you asking about him?”

How things had changed since high school. “Bumped into him at Rose’s a couple days ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Corinne shook her head. “No, you don’t understand, Deb. He’s hot. He’s really hot and rich. Lives in Berkshire Terrace but he’s a priest.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, wow. You got a yearbook handy? Mine are all at Mom’s.”

“Sure.” Deb vanished into her home office, returning a few moments later with a thin, dark blue yearbook. “Same year as Vince, 1990.” Vince was Deb’s brother. She was already flipping through the pages of senior section. “There he is, Gregory Monroe.”

It was him alright, but a horrible, angst-ridden, teenaged, castaway version of the man she’d met on Thursday. They had the same penetrating eyes and the same slightly crooked smile. Corinne licked her lips nervously. “Deb.”

“Yeah?”

“I need to tell you something I’ve never told anyone before in my life. Something that he knows about me. Something he’s known for a long time. Something I think he wants.”