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  “She told us to get it together or get out, and being the little jerkoffs we were, we left. It was dumb, but so were we. And we paid for it.” Dominic shook his head, his lips pressed together.

  “What happened?” Liza probed.

  It took Dominic a few moments to continue, his eyes darting around as though seeking some sort of anchor point. “We bounced around on the street for a couple of years, couch-surfing and doing whatever we could, legal or not, for money. There was a botched liquor store holdup—the owner fought back with a lead pipe, and Tony took the brunt of it. The guy beat the hell out of him and put him in a coma.” He broke off, drawing a few deep breaths, and Liza fought the urge to hug him close.

  “Holy... I am so sorry.”

  Dominic shrugged. “I won’t say he deserved it, but something like that was inevitable, the way we were going. One or the other of us was going to get hurt, if not dead.”

  His assessment seemed cold on the surface, but Liza could sense the boiling rage beneath Dominic’s controlled exterior. “It must have horrified your mother.”

  “She was broken—at his bedside every moment, praying and begging God for his life. I was angry, so angry, and I’d yell at her for expecting God to fix my brother when He’d never done anything for us before. That got me slapped within an inch of my life, by the way. ‘God has always protected us,’ she told me. ‘Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean His miracles aren’t everywhere around us every day.’ I remember storming out, getting blackout drunk and at some point coming to alone, in an alley, beating the stuffing out of an old trash can with my knuckles torn and bleeding.”

  Holy shit. “What happened to Tony?” Liza held her breath.

  To her immense relief, Dominic smiled. “Three weeks later, he surprised everyone by waking up, asking for Ma and telling her that he could hear her prayers, and that he knew God had listened to her.”

  “Oh, wow. And...it inspired you to become a priest?”

  “I can see where that would have been the easy answer, but not right away, actually,” he said, and some of his remembered anger and tension seemed to drain away. “What it did was show me that my life was heading nowhere good, and I needed to make some changes. I got sober first—that had to happen. I got and held down a job, rented a tiny place and got back on my feet. And then I had to face the fact that I had no plans. No career path, no real life skills. I could deal drugs, I could sweet-talk a pretty girl into getting naked with me, and I knew which of the convenience stores in town didn’t bother putting tapes into their surveillance cameras—and absolutely none of that was doing me any good.”

  This was fascinating, both on a clinical level and a personal one. “So what did you do?”

  “I honestly didn’t know what to do. I was taking long walks, late at night, just trying to sort through everything that had happened. Ma had moved Tony in with her to help him with his recovery, and things were going well there. Nobody seemed to need me, and it wasn’t clear where I fit or what I wanted. I couldn’t go back, and I couldn’t decide how to move forward. I was...stagnating, I suppose.

  “And one night, my wandering took me past my childhood church, and I just went in. I hadn’t prayed in years—pretty much since my dad took off. But God had listened to Ma when she needed him the most, and I thought... I thought I would just try it out.” Dominic’s steps slowed as he seemed to reach back into his memories, a reverent note gracing his baritone as a gentle smile tilted his lips. “Have you ever been inside a church at night, when it’s quiet and still? It’s beautiful. Ethereal. I kneeled in a pew and racked my brain, trying to think of what to say, how to reach out...and it hit me. I just started talking. Everything that was inside me—the anger and frustration and confusion, it all came out in this tremendous, spewing catharsis. And when I was done, when I had nothing left to say or ask, I looked up. One of the priests had come in and was quietly tending to business around the altar, and it occurred to me that he was there if I needed him, but giving me the space to have a dialogue with God.”

  Liza thought about that for a moment. “Did God...did he actually speak to you?”

  “No.” Dominic laughed, and Liza felt herself flushing. “It didn’t work that way—at least not for me. But it got me thinking. I started attending Mass again and went through confirmation, and began volunteering at the church. And it began to feel like home, in a way nothing had since I was a boy. Father Angelo, the senior parish priest—he was the one I saw that night. He let me tail him like a puppy, and I witnessed firsthand the power he held to help those who needed it.

  “It was Father Angelo who suggested I consider entering the seminary—I confess it hadn’t quite occurred to me to dedicate my life to the Church. But he volunteered to sponsor me and suggested that in studying for holy orders, I’d discover the best way to serve God and my community.” He chuckled, and his quick grin pulled an answering smile out of Liza. “I hadn’t been in school since I was a kid, so I spent a full eight years in seminary here in New Orleans. I fell in love with the city. After I completed six months as a deacon, I was ordained and posted to St. Joseph’s. And I thought that this is what I would be doing for the rest of my life.”

  They’d slowed their walk as Dominic spoke, letting the breeze that ruffled the trees wash over them in the disappearing evening sun. They’d wandered into the heart of the Warehouse district, which became a whole new neighborhood at night—once-empty streets filled with stalls and stands as the local artists showcased their work in a sultry, vibrant night faire that Liza loved. People and vans and pop-up tents began to appear as they walked, and the distraction of bustle and color and noise would, she hoped, give Dominic a sense of anonymity in the growing crowd.

  Now came the hard part.

  She touched his arm, drawing his gaze to hers. “When did you start to doubt?”

  “Please understand that I still believe I was called to do this job. No one is perfect—we all, priests included, struggle with our base desires and human failings. It’s what helps us to counsel others. Compassion, empathy, understanding. Knowing what it feels like to fail, and to have to pull ourselves back up again, gives us wisdom and a certain amount of gravitas. Some of the most amazing men of the cloth I’ve been fortunate enough to meet have led the most colorful lives.” Dominic paused, glancing down toward his shoes. “But one cannot be absolved of a sin that he keeps repeating, no matter how sincere the confession or deep the regret.”

  He drew a deep, thoughtful breath before blowing it out. “Throughout seminary, I never worried about the commitment to celibacy. I’d never been in love. I treated sex like a given, and women like a challenge to be conquered. Staying celibate, focusing on myself and my relationship with God was how I spent all my time.”

  This was an area Liza had never explored professionally. “What about masturbation?”

  “That’s the catch. Of course, the Catholic church has strict views of sex, including masturbation, that preclude a devout believer from any sexual activity that isn’t heterosexual, between a married couple and strictly for procreation.”

  Sex-positive Liza couldn’t help her automatic frown, and Dominic raised a hand. “I know, but things are changing. Even Pope Francis said that celibacy was a matter of discipline, and not faith, when discussing the differences between Eastern and Western Christian traditions. And in the real world, it’s been estimated that at least half of all people of the cloth whose vows include celibacy have broken them in some form, with masturbation being the most popular.”

  “Damn skippy, I bet it’s popular,” muttered Liza. “How the hell else do you function?”

  Dominic twisted his mouth into a wry smile. “I’m all for a theological debate on this topic, but let me at least try to get this out.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. So, at some point, the no-sex-at-all idea stopped working for you.”

/>   “Yeah. I don’t even know exactly how it started. A few years back, I just...started noticing women again—not as parishioners, but as women. At first I reminded myself that it’s normal, and that thoughts are private and not shameful. But after a while, it was happening more often. I was getting distracted, especially during sacred moments—saying Mass, taking confession.” His cheeks pinked, and Liza could see how difficult it was for him to articulate his shame.

  Due to her work, Liza well understood being privy to people’s darkest and most embarrassing thoughts and fears, but she held her tongue and let Dominic continue as they skirted the bustle of the street faire.

  “As I mentioned, the subject of masturbation among priests is an evolving topic. While it’s technically frowned upon, many see it as a tool to help enforce the greater concept of celibacy—not practicing any form of sex act with another person. Only after significant internal debate and prayer did I decide it would help.”

  “Did it?”

  He sighed. “At first. I tried to treat it as a simple physiological function, satisfying the body’s biological needs. But the thoughts, the fantasies...it’s like having that one small taste of physical release only whetted my appetite for more.” He winced. “It wasn’t just about wanting plain old sex any longer—it was fuel on the fire. It wasn’t long before...well, what started as what I thought were harmless fantasies began worrying me.”

  Liza stopped for a moment, looking around to gauge their isolation. Despite the presence of humanity flowing nearby, the sun had bowed out and allowed the darkness to hold sway—albeit a darkness that did little to relieve the thick, warm air of late spring. Other than being behind closed doors, it was as private and anonymous as they were going to get. “I know this is the hardest part, but can you tell me what you found worrisome about your fantasies?” When he hesitated, Liza laid a hand on his arm, squeezing lightly. “Hey, I’m a professional, remember? I’ve heard and seen it all, believe me. You aren’t going to shock me or make me think any less of you.”

  He considered her words, the wrinkles on his forehead scrunching and releasing. “At first, it was just the idea of being inside a woman again, you know?” he said quietly. “No amount of jerking off compares to the real thing. But then it took more and more to get me off—like a junkie needs a bigger fix in order to get high. I fantasized about abusing the power of my position to force women to have sex with me. About making a woman submit to me, making her keep it secret. About treating a woman like a fuck toy and making her crave it from me.” He shook his head, his voice lowering even further. “When I started getting hard at the idea of nonconsensual sex, I knew I had to do something.”

  Oh, man. She had to suppress a shiver as he spoke, keeping her eyes glued on the pavement ahead. A slow spool of heat infused her belly, and she was suddenly aware of the thrust of her nipples against her shirt. If Dominic discovered that he was hitting all of her personal hot buttons, he’d freak out, so Liza kept her expression neutral. Still, she had to clear her throat before she spoke. “I know we’ve touched on this before, but your fantasies are just that—fantasies. Plenty of people use fantasy to heighten their sexual experiences or push their own boundaries. As long as no one is getting hurt, you aren’t doing anything wrong on a fundamental level by having these thoughts and feelings.”

  His head shake was one of pure frustration. “But they conflict directly with my being able to continue to serve as a priest. I can’t keep living like this. I’ve been working with Dr. Cooper to try and figure out other ways to work around it—Liza, I can’t anymore. I can’t be the man I want to be—I can’t act on these fantasies, healthy or otherwise, in the real world and remain a priest.” He stopped, his gaze sweeping the area for eavesdroppers before he spoke again, and his voice was heavy with the weight of his burden, his expression bleak. “My only hope at this point is that if I can have these experiences in a controlled environment and get them out of my system, so to speak, then I can confess, do penance and receive absolution for my sins. Then I could re-dedicate myself to the priesthood and to my work. Right now, I don’t see another path that doesn’t mean I have to turn in my collar. Because if I don’t do something, soon, I’ll shame myself, hurt my parishioners and lose the only good thing I’ve ever done. Please, even if you don’t agree with me, please help me.” He stepped closer, forcing Liza to look up to maintain eye contact. This close, she was afraid he might detect the pulse of sexual heat just beneath her skin, but he held her stare. “I’m begging,” he said, his face open and raw and trusting.

  Liza swallowed hard. “And if, after we complete our work, it’s not enough?”

  Dominic closed his eyes, his head tipping back. “It has to be. God forgive me. It has to be.”

  Without stopping to think it through, Liza reached up to cradle his cheek, letting the physical contact reassure him where words may have sounded rote or hollow. After a long minute, his eyes opened again, and he placed his hand over hers, squeezing as he nodded his appreciation for her gesture.

  They resumed walking, side by side, and Liza chewed her lip as she thought. They were a few blocks from returning to the café when she faced him again, ensuring that they were alone when she spoke. “All right. Here’s the deal. I want you to text me the first dirty fantasy you had in church. Then I’ll schedule our next session.”

  He flushed, but nodded. Asking for his phone, she programmed her number and handed it back. After a moment of hesitation, she reached up and kissed him on the cheek, foregoing her usual inclination to avoid overt expressions of affection outside the clinical setting. Something about this man, this priest, was worming its way inside her, and as much as she knew she should examine it more closely, now wasn’t the time. With a final, genuine smile, Dominic turned away to go to his car.

  “Oh, and Dominic?”

  He glanced back. “Yes?”

  Liza let the knowledge of what was to come sizzle in her eyes as she smiled. “Wear the collar.”

  Chapter Six

  Liza was washing dishes, her favorite Pandora station on full blast, when the message light flashed on her phone. Grabbing a dish towel to dry her hands, she thumbed to her text screen and felt her heart speed up when she saw Dominic’s name. She used the remote to lower the sound and blew out a steadying breath before tapping the new message.

  She’d spent the last forty-eight hours playing their last conversation over and over again in her head. From a professional standpoint, his case was fascinating, unique. From a personal one...

  Ah. Therein lay the rub. She liked Dominic La Sera. Beyond his physical attractiveness—which was not inconsequential—he was complex, thoughtful and edgier than she’d expected. His layers had layers, and Liza found herself wanting to peel him back one intriguing slice at a time, revealing the core of the man beneath the collar. Which was not her job. Not her priority. But it was quickly becoming her fantasy.

  Shaking her head, Liza pushed aside those disturbing thoughts and focused on reading Dominic’s text.

  The first time my fantasies really started to intrude on my work, I was hearing confession—a ritual of trust that requires an exchange of faith between the penitent and the confessor. A young woman, whose military husband was in a long-term overseas deployment, was confessing to lustful thoughts about other men in his absence. Though she hadn’t acted upon any of her thoughts, she sought absolution for her sins and asked for penance that she might receive God’s grace.

  Outwardly, there was nothing scandalous or lewd about her confession, but something about her voice—soft, uncertain, nervous—struck a nerve. Though I know I assigned her a standard penance and offered absolution, my thoughts drifted from the state of her immortal soul to a wicked and dangerous idea.

  I wondered what might happen if, rather than suggesting prayer and good works, I told her that her lustful thoughts were so dirty and wrong that corporal
punishment was the only solution. She’d gasp, and ask hesitantly what I meant, and I’d tell her that nothing but a severe spanking would drive the devil away.

  In my head, I imagined she’d protest, but not too much—because secretly, she craves the sting of my palm across her naked ass.

  I’d pull her from the confessional and lead her behind closed doors to administer her penance somewhere we wouldn’t be disturbed. I’d make her bend over, her skirt pulled up over her waist, showing off her tiny thong, as though she’d dressed hoping I’d see it.

  Honestly, just writing this, reliving this particular fantasy, has me horny and hard. I wanted to spank her until her ass turned bright red, until she begged me to stop, until her pussy was soaked and she cried my name. I’d have yanked that little thong aside and shoved my cock inside her until I came like a rocket.

  I doubt it would surprise you to hear that I haven’t been able to look that sweet young woman in the eye since that day.

  Liza leaned back against the counter and re-read the text once more. Oh, yeah. I can work with this. With a grin, she tapped back a quick response to Dominic: Perfect. 9:00 p.m. Thursday, my place. Key is beneath the second blue flowerpot. Meet in my office. I have some confessing of my own to do.

  Cranking the music back up, she snatched up a dish and started sketching out the scene in her head. She had some research to do. After all, wasn’t confession supposed to be good for the soul?

  Hi Susan,

  I don’t know if Dominic has told you yet, but we’ve agreed to proceed with a treatment plan. The goal is to direct him toward an acceptance of his innate sexuality, and any repercussions that may occur as a result. I do worry about his assertion that he can exorcise his needs through exposure. He’ll need to process the emotions and realizations our sessions are likely to uncover, and I know that this is an area where he’ll need your support and counsel more than ever.