What is Unholy - Camilla Basham

He put his mouth to mine. It was behind the organ pipes, as his admirers gathered downstairs for coffee. Earlier he spoke of God, and Paul, and Job and goats…who knows. After the first ten minutes I could only focus on his lips as they moved in time with his words. I didn’t give a shit what they were saying. The masses focused on him. He focused on me. Later I would try to explain to the council just how intoxicating this was. For now, I darted across the church floor, sipping coffee, feeling anxious. He asked me to meet him outside and I did. “Point Reyes.” he said, “No one will ever know. I promise.” So, I drove, through fog, winding roads and a maze of moral conflict. We met in a marshy field. He said, “ I come here often to speak to God.” “How nice.” I said. Then he grabbed me and swore that God wanted me to take his cock in my mouth. I was doing God’s will, he assured me. There was the dashboard, the digital clock, the steering wheel all telling me this was wrong. There was him, telling me, “It’s God’s will.”