Absolve Me Page 4

  “God, Liza, I’m so sorry. I swear to you, I begged him to reconsider. You must be upset.”

  “You might say that. I can’t believe you knew and didn’t warn me in advance.”

  She could almost hear Susan wincing over the line. “I know, I know—it’s unforgivable. I’ve just hit the wall with him, and we were both getting desperate. When he asked me about seeing a sex therapist, I was stunned. To be honest, I didn’t know if he was serious, or if he’d follow through, but I told him I’d support him no matter what his decision was. I debated telling you even when he asked me not to mention it, but in the end I needed to respect his wishes—and to be honest, I was hoping you’d manage the breakthrough that’s been eluding me.

  “I really am sorry. This one’s become more personal than I wanted to admit. I just needed you to know that if he hadn’t forbidden me from telling you, there’s no way I wouldn’t have been up front about it.”

  Liza sighed. In the end, it wasn’t Susan’s fault. The other therapist had been acting in accordance with her patient’s wishes and protecting the confidentiality between them. “I get it, I do. Hell, I might have done the same thing—he put you between a rock and a hard place, didn’t he?”

  “God, yes. But I hope he hasn’t lost you for good. He’s so convinced that acting out his fantasies is the only way to know for sure if he should abandon his calling—well, you should hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak, but if you can see your way to continuing to work with him, I’d consider it a huge personal favor.”

  Liza was silent for a minute. If she could separate out her personal feelings, she could understand, and forgive, his actions from a professional standpoint.

  From a personal one, however...those emotions were a little more difficult to sort out. A priest—jeez, she could have done a dozen things differently. Should have. And if she thought she felt weird before about letting a client give her an unnecessary orgasm, knowing that delicious tongue belonged to a man of the cloth...

  Aw, hell. It made it wickedly good. Dirty, naughty, wrong—all the things she liked to seek out for herself when she wasn’t on the clock. All the things that had been lacking for far too long.

  Shit. She cleared her throat, knowing Susan needed an answer. “All right. But no more secrets. From either of you.”

  Susan thanked her profusely and promised to keep her apprised. When they’d hung up, Liza sat back on the bench, letting her heart rate ease down. A long, brutally honest conversation with Dominic was next on the agenda, but she’d promised Bells a visit to check out her cool new cast.

  She hoped that would give her enough time to scrub her head of the image of his hard mouth, slicked with her wetness, as he begged her to let him make her come.

  Jesus, girl. Pull it together. She stood, popping her earbuds back in for the long jog home. She’d run over to Angie’s before her first appointment of the afternoon and do her best to put all thoughts of her sinful priest aside.

  * * *

  It was close to nine thirty before let herself punch out on her mental clock after a satisfying session with two of her current favorite clients. Andy and Jenn were newlyweds, young and earnest with a delightful sense of humor, stemming in part from Andy’s cerebral palsy. Sharp as a razor and with a megawatt smile, Andy had wooed Jenn from his motorized wheelchair in college, and they’d let a solid friendship develop into love.

  At first, they’d satisfied themselves with relatively chaste romance, as Andy’s muscle contractures and palsy complicated their physical relationship, but after committing to one another, they’d decided to seek help to determine how they might be able to add more sexual activity to their repertoire of affection. Liza had fallen in love a little herself with Andy’s wry humor and Jenn’s pure adulation of her new husband.

  “Just because I can’t reach him myself,” he’d explained during their initial session, “doesn’t mean Mr. Happy doesn’t want to do the job.” But Jenn had been reluctant, afraid to hurt Andy, afraid they’d never figure out how to satisfy each other; it was weighing heavily on their relationship and starting to scare them both.

  “This is brilliant,” Liza had assured them both. “I love that you’ve already identified the why—now, we’re gonna work on the how.” She’d researched cerebral palsy and reached out to Andy’s primary doctor for further education and, armed with ideas, had started them on a practice regimen of sensual touch, careful to account for Andy’s limited mobility.

  Tonight’s session had been intense—working with both Jenn and Andy to find physical positions that could allow them to enjoy actual intercourse when they were ready to attempt it. She’d rarely had clients so willing to trust her instincts and throw themselves headfirst into the process, so to speak; as they continued to progress, she felt more and more like a proud parent.

  Liza opened the fridge and grabbed a chilled wine, pouring a generous glass as she mentally reviewed the details of the session so she could make a few notes. The sound of her cell phone was an unwelcome distraction, but she grabbed it in case it was Angie or Bella.

  Restricted number. Huh. “Hello? This is Dr. Branscombe.”

  “Doc...uh, Liza, this is Dominic La Sera. Do you have time to talk?”

  Hearing his voice, thick with tension, Liza bit her lip, setting her wineglass on the counter. “Dominic. Hello. Um, yeah, now’s as good a time as any, I suppose.”

  The words spilled from him in rapid succession. “I’m so sorry. I regret not telling you from the beginning—please don’t blame Dr. Cooper. I made her promise to keep it a secret. I just needed... I needed to know, and I couldn’t imagine you agreeing to work with me like this if I told you who I really am, what I do. You’re probably angry, and you have every right to be. Is there any way we could move forward from here?”

  “Won’t you be disbarred, or excommunicated, or whatever it is they do to priests who break their vows?”

  “Yes.” His voice was heavy. “If anyone finds out, yes, I’d be asked to leave the priesthood. It would be a massive scandal and another public blow to the Church. I really would like to avoid that, if at all possible, for my parishioners, if not for myself. Please understand, my coming to you was an absolute last resort. I didn’t take our session together lightly. It’s important to me that I find out whether I can remain a priest and do the job that I love, that I believe is my true calling, or if my base urges are going to force me to abandon everything I’ve come to care about.”

  Liza could hear despair underlying Dominic’s measured words. “I have to admit, I have some reservations,” she said. “I normally turn away clients who want to hide this kind of therapy from someone. A spouse, for example. It sets a bad precedent, and without the other affected party’s buy-in, the client could make things worse for themselves, not better.”

  Dominic laughed, but it was hollow, humorless. “I somehow don’t feel like I can go to the people of St. Joseph’s, much less the Archdiocese, and ask permission for sex therapy so I can decide whether I have to turn in my collar.”

  It all began to fall into place for Liza—the struggle Susan had alluded to, Dominic’s reluctance to provide details of his lifestyle. “So,” she said carefully, “you’re trying to decide whether or not you can remain a priest with unfulfilled sexual needs.”

  “It’s what Dr. Cooper and I have been working on, once I realized my lustful thoughts and feelings weren’t abating through prayer and private reflection.” He paused. “Have you ever dieted?”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. I just wanted to know if you knew what it felt like to crave something more and more simply because you can’t have it.”

  “Ah. Okay, I get it. And yes, I know what you mean—but why choose a profession that requires celibacy if you knew you had a strong sex drive?”

  “It’s complicated,�
� he hedged. “Is there any way we can meet and talk in person?”

  Liza began to tell him to just come down to her office but changed her mind. “Do you know Café Trieste?”

  “I don’t think so. Is it downtown?”

  She gave him the address to her favorite coffee shop, close to her house and on the other side of the city from St. Joseph’s.

  After a brief hesitation, Dominic agreed. Hanging up her cell, Liza tossed it on the counter and sighed. In spite of herself, she was looking forward to seeing him again, and told herself sternly that it had everything to do with learning more about Dominic’s problems, and nothing whatsoever to do with the tiny little sparking thrill she got from knowing just how good he looked beneath his vestments.

  Chapter Five

  “Usual spot outside, Doc?” Jerry’s cheery tenor rang out across the crowded and noisy floor of the café as soon as Liza opened the door.

  “Actually, I’m having something of a meeting—could we get the two-top in the corner?”

  “Sure thing. Give me a minute to set you up. Is it Angie you’re waiting for?”

  “No, but you can’t miss him. He’s a—”

  Priest. Dominic entered the café, and just as he had in the hospital, he wore black—all black. Slacks, button-down shirt and shoes, accented by the simple band of a starched white clerical collar.

  Liza couldn’t take her eyes off the figure he cut as he wove through a couple of women to join her. His eyes were hooded and lines of tension divided his forehead, and the severity of his garb served to reflect the planes in his face, the sharp cut of his cheekbones and the set of his jaw. There was an intensity about him that reminded Liza quite suddenly of the way he’d wanted to take charge of the sex—this was a man who was accustomed to a certain amount of power.

  “Dominic,” she said, resisting the urge to hug him in greeting. “Thanks for meeting with me.”

  He nodded a little stiffly as she threw a quick wave toward Jerry.

  “They’re getting our table ready,” she said. Once they were settled and had ordered drinks, Liza looked at Dominic and lifted an eyebrow. “Where do we even start with this?”

  “I’m pretty sure that was my line.”

  She smiled. “Yeah, well, I gotta admit that for once, I’m sort of at a loss.”

  “It wasn’t right for me to hide such an important thing from you, and I just... I hope it hasn’t soured you on the prospect of working with me.”

  To be fair, Dominic looked sincerely miserable. Dark hollows carved out the skin beneath his eyes, and he hunched a bit at the shoulders, reminding her of a loyal pooch expecting a sharp reprimand.

  Liza sighed, twiddling with her napkin. “I told Susan—Dr. Cooper—that I’d give you another chance, but we need to set some serious ground rules.” He started to speak, but Liza held up a finger. “You might want to wait until you hear my conditions before you say anything.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Let me know how I can make this right.”

  Let me make this good for you. Liza flushed, remembering his impassioned plea as he’d begged to make her come. She cleared her throat. “Well, for starters, no more concealing critical details. I need to know right now—is anything you told me untrue, or have you left out anything personal that could be relevant to your therapy?” She held her breath. One of her greatest professional fears was doing inadvertent harm to a client due to embarrassing medical conditions, or an undisclosed history of sexual abuse, or any other experiences that might skew how she crafted her treatment plan.

  “No! At least, nothing I’m aware of,” he said. “But I think I understand what you mean, and I can tell you there’s nothing else scandalous or inappropriate in my past. Or present, for that matter.”

  Liza relaxed. “Okay, that was the big one. Second, I know you’ve been doing deep work with Dr. Cooper, but I’m going to ask you to discuss your therapy with me, as well. I want to know how you came to this place so I can better understand how to help you. This priest thing changes everything, obviously.”

  The waitress arrived to deliver their drinks and take their order, and Dominic waited until she was out of range before cocking his head. “Does it? Would you treat another man with the same issues differently?”

  “Hells, yes! Oh, sorry—I didn’t mean to be rude, or...blasphemous, I guess?”

  He smiled. “You aren’t Catholic, are you?”

  “I’m agnostic, to be truthful. Is that a problem for you?”

  “Quite the opposite, actually. It makes you feel more...neutral, I suppose.”

  She thought about that. “Yeah, that makes sense. But the answer to your question is yes. You being a priest shapes how I want to approach your treatment plan, since your profession is related to your specific sexual challenges.” She kept her voice low, aware that they were beginning to enter delicate territory.

  “Would you have done anything differently, had you known?”

  “To be honest, I would have been very reluctant to agree to sexual partner therapy unless you’d already decided to renounce the priesthood. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.”

  He winced and took a long drink of his coffee. “That’s fair. You giving me a second chance is more than I could reasonably have hoped for. Thank you, Liza.”

  “Before we schedule any more sessions, I want to hear it all. From the beginning. No softening the details or skipping them altogether.”

  “Here?” His eyebrows rose.

  “No, of course not. Why don’t we take a walk when we’re done here, and you can tell me how you got to this big-ass fork in the road.”

  She raised her tea to salute him, and with a wry smile, he lifted his mug at her in return.

  * * *

  Liza guided Dominic out of the café and popped her sunglasses on to protect her eyes from the glare of the setting sun. It was still only May, but it already promised to be a heavy summer. “Aren’t you hot in that?” She gestured up and down his body.

  “Not right now.” He chuckled. “But ask me again in August.”

  They strolled for a while, taking in the shops and the late afternoon activity, eventually winding their way onto quieter streets as they skirted the Warehouse district.

  With a sideways glance, Liza quirked a brow. “You have to know I’m dying of curiosity over here.”

  Dominic blew out a breath. “Just trying to decide where to start.”

  “Well, it’s a cliché for a reason, but maybe start at the beginning?” she teased.

  He hesitated, and then, with a sly sideways glance of his own, he said, “I was born a poor black child...”

  “Ha!” Liza laughed, punching him lightly in the arm. “I love The Jerk! How did you know?”

  Dominic grinned, and Liza felt the wattage of his smile hit her like a physical blow. The lines that creased his cheeks and lifted the corners of his eyes made the man beneath the stiff collar shine through. Damn. “There are two types of people,” he proclaimed. “Those who love Steve Martin, and those who are wrong.”

  “We watched Roxanne a bunch of times when I was kid, and his part as the sadistic dentist in Little Shop of Horrors? SNL, Father of the Bride, The Three Amigos...he’s the best.” She chuckled. “Okay, but now we’re getting off topic. Why don’t you start with why you decided to become a priest? I’ve known a few guys who planned to enter the seminary, but that was, like, right out of school, and I get the feeling that’s not how it worked out for you.”

  “No, it’s not. I had no intention of entering the priesthood when I was in school. In fact, when those guys were studying theology, I was something of a hooligan.”

  “A hooligan?” Liza hooted. “As in, a rapscallion? Or a knockabout?”

  “All right, all right. I got into some shit, okay?”

  �
�You know, hearing you swear while wearing the collar is weirdly disturbing.” And weirdly hot. But there was no way she was going to tell him that.

  “Well, you can’t have it both ways.” He shrugged, a loosening of his shoulders that told Liza he was relaxing, feeling safe in her presence. It was an excellent sign of trust.

  “I concede, then. Carry on.”

  “I grew up in Jersey, in a decent enough neighborhood. I had a pretty typical childhood, I guess—public school, church on Sunday, altar boy with my buddies, running around with my older brother and his friends after school. Normal stuff. I didn’t much think about where I was going—more like, what could we get away with in the moment?” He paused, looking into the distance. “It felt pretty awesome, being that sure of myself and feeling like nothing was ever going to change.”

  “But.”

  “Yeah, but.” He grimaced. “Dad up and left when I was eleven, and Tony—my brother—was thirteen. Ma was busted up—they were high school sweethearts. Dad screwed around a bunch. Always came back, always begged her forgiveness. But one day, he was just gone. And nothing was the same.” Dominic’s voice tightened, his jaw working stiffly to push out the words. “Ma turned to the Church for comfort, which was great, but in order to support us, she took a night job cleaning on top of her teaching schedule, so Tony and I were pretty much free-range kids. Not at all uncommon in those days, right? And it was fine—for a while, anyway.”

  Liza waited while Dominic paused, letting him collect his thoughts. They strolled together casually, but she could feel the tension building again, radiating off him in waves.

  “I don’t want to give you the whole, drawn-out sob story. Short version is, we carried a lot of anger at Pa, and without a lot of restriction or supervision, we started acting out for attention, making bad choices. Drugs, petty crime, sex. By the time I was seventeen and Tony was nineteen, we’d both spent some time in juvie, and Ma was...well, she had to just have been tired. Really tired.