Priest_by_Sierra_Simone 3

Her hazel eyes flickered up to mine, green and brown pools of curiosity
and intelligent energy, green and brown pools that reflected grief and
confusion if you cared to look long enough. I recognized it because I had
worn such a look for years after Lizzy’s death, except in Poppy’s case, I
suspected that the person she was grieving—the person she’d lost—was
herself.
Let me help this woman, I prayed silently. Let me help her find her way.
“I’m glad I saw you,” I said, straightening up as her hand fell away from
my skin. “You said earlier this week that you wanted to meet?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “I did. I mean, I do.”
“How about my office in, say, half an hour?”
She gave me a mock salute. “See you there, Father.”
I tried not to watch her run away, I really did, but I promise I only looked
for a second, an infinitely long second, a second long enough to catalog the
gleam of sweat and sunscreen on her toned shoulders, the taunting
movements of her ass.
Definitely a cold shower then.