What Isn't Allowed - Kaye Doiron

He is so graceful in his white robe. He seems to float across the floor. He reminds her of a knight, a crusader. His voice is smooth and solid, thick and passionate, but gentle, as if he is singing the ritual to her only. She watches his hands move gracefully as he goes through the same motions, as he raises the challice to his lips. She can imagine those hands on her neck, one on the small of her back, then the other moving around to cup her chin as he raises it to join her lips to his. She can see the outline of his body under his robes. She can imagine the black curls dripping with sweat over her face as he slowly moves his hips in rhythm with hers. She can see the anticipation in his eyes. Would she be his first? His lips could not be more perfect as they say over and over ‘ the body of Christ, the blood of Christ” Her entire body tenses as she watches him touch the forehead and the shoulder of the young girl in front of her, it passes. She slowly approaches. She looks into his eyes. She is shivering with anticipation. Soon his hand will be so close to her lips, his fingers will touch her forehead, she will feel the warmth of his body through her dress as he lays his hand upon her shoulder and gives her his blessing. Oh God how she wants his blessing, his holiness, to fill her, to possess her, to quench and tame the quivering serpent that has awoken inside her belly. Her legs are weak as she turns to walk away and have him leave her gaze. She returns to her pew with the others. She kneels and prays for forgiveness for her unholy thoughts. She bows her head so that he will no longer be in her view. She prays for the spirit of Jesus to wash these thoughts from her, to cleanse her from her impurity, to cure her of her desire, to help her forget how it felt for him to be inside her, to forget how much she wanted to remember it for the rest of her life.