“Silly me,” Father Thomas said, embarrassed. “I spend too much time with the children at the orphanage and forget how to act around adults.” I laughed and then he joined in, shaking his head and looking sheepish. “Let’s try again. Here,” he said, dipping a spoon in the sauce and then holding it out to me.

I took it from him, relieved but also flustered. The sauce was delicious, both tart and sweet at the same time. We both set about eating though my appetite had diminished. I didn’t know where to look but my eyes kept getting drawn back to his lips, which were shiny with grease. Every time he licked them, I squirmed. The room, already stiflingly hot, grew hotter with every passing moment.

When he was done, he looked at the food that remained in the newspaper on my lap. “You’ve barely eaten. What’s wrong, Delilah? Please tell me I didn’t offend you just now. I meant nothing by it.”

“Not at all, Father. I just hurt my neck earlier and it’s a bit painful.” It was easier to blame my discomfort on that instead of admitting how small the room suddenly felt and how his body seemed to fill up so much of it.

“Oh no,” he said, looking concerned as he stood up and walked toward me. My breath caught. “A neck injury can be very painful and will only get worse if not treated straight away. Before I decided to become a priest, I started studying to become a doctor. Did you know that?”

“No, Father. But honestly, I’m fine and—” I started to protest but he’d already taken my food from me and then knelt next to me on the bed. He positioned me at an angle facing away from him so that he could get a grip on my shoulders.

“Take your robe off so I can see what I’m working with here.”

“Father, I don’t think—”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake. It’s just me, Delilah. I’m a priest and you’re perfectly safe with me. You don’t think I mean you harm, do you?” His tone was both injured and annoyed.

“No, Father. Of course not,” I said, shrugging the robe off.

He leaned in, running his fingers over the bumps of my spine that led up into the base of my skull. As Father Thomas began to massage my shoulders, I felt his warm breath against my neck and an ache rose up in my belly. The heat that had previously enveloped my face now traveled down my stomach and into my core, making it tingle in response.

“Father, I—” I tried to stand up but he pressed his hands down on my shoulders, pinning me to the bed.

“Delilah.” His voice was suddenly different. More gravelly and hoarse. “My sweet Delilah. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”