The Church of Emilio

Angrily, Isabella navigated her way out of the building. Sunny California smiled back at her. Now wishing she had a hat, Isabella jogged over to a nearby elm tree and pulled out her phone. A quick google search later, she had her heading to St. John’s Church. Deciding on the spur of the moment, Isabella bent down and retied her running shoes. It was a three-mile run; perfect to relieve her frustration before introducing herself to a new parish.

Already feeling warm from the Sun, Isabella took off her hoodie and tied it to her waist, revealing her white t-shirt. A random passerby walking his dog did a double-take as her midriff was temporarily exposed. Toned and flat, her figure stood out in the shade of the tree. Then Isabelle started stretching for her impromptu run. Overhead stretches, leg stretches, hanging forward at the waste, and stretching. If she wasn’t already lost in her own frustration, she would have taken notice of not-so-discreet gazes watching her fit body.

Finally, with a head crack, Isabelle started out. Right, left, right, left went her feet in an athlete's effortless gate. Almost instantly, Isabelle felt good about moving. Bra-less, Isabelle heedless ran. Her modest bust and bodacious buttocks swung left and right as she bounced. Hypnotized, more than one driver slowed down to ogle the pretty girl. Isabelle took no notice, she was in her happy place, running and exploring. She was focused on the scenic California college, the green grass, and her Maps app.

All too soon, she found the church. It was a humble abode. Not more than a single story with a basement, the building appeared little larger than a central gathering room and supporting chambers. The entire complex had well-trimmed grass, shady trees, and a modest parking lot. Isabelle felt relief, the church appeared like her home parish. If St. John’s was similar to hers, the doors to the confessional would be open this time of day.

Stopping to catch her breath, Isabelle looked down. Some sweat had dripped down her chest, and she could feel a slight chill down her spine. Self-consciously, Isabelle sat under one of the shady trees until she felt cool enough to throw her pink hoodie back on. Wiping the sweat off her brow, Isabelle stood up and headed into the church.

The inside of the church was just as humble as the outside. Wooden walls, wooden pews, and stained-glass overlooking the altar. Off to the right side stood a small confessional. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Isabelle headed inside in the box.

“Hello, my child. How many days has it been since your last confession?” A warm paternal voice asked the familiar phrase.

“Three days, Father,” Isabelle responded.

“My child, I don’t recognize your voice. Are you new to the area?” The male voice asked.

“Yes, Father. I arrived early from Wisconsin to school here at University.”

“Ah. Welcome to St. John’s. Would you say a prayer with me before we begin?” Isabelle could feel the warmth flowing from the voice, and she allowed herself to let her guard down. What she said here was between herself and God. This priest was the go-between.

“Of Course!” Together they spoke the Lord’s prayer, and both felt connected on a spiritual level. So, it was with levity and forgiveness that the priest heard Isabelle’s confession.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. Last night I did something heinous and wrong and lustful,” Isabelle took a second deep steadying breath.

“Take your time, child. The house of God is here for you and you alone right now,” The priest kindly said.

After taking a moment to formulate her words, Isabelle continued, her voice nearly cracking at the end, “Last night I could hardly contain myself. It was the first time I spent alone. Away from my sister’s and family, I mean. And almost the moment I knew that I was alone, I-i gave into my lust. I stripped down and I masturbated. I tried to resist, but it felt so good and so wrong that I couldn’t stop. Not only that, but I didn’t feel like myself. And the worst thing is, the first thought I had this morning was if I had time to do it again. I prayed for strength to resist, but I couldn’t slake my hunger.”

The priest, mindful of his own words now spoke gently. In a near whisper, he asked, “My child, how old are you?”

“18, Father.”

“And this is the first time you’ve masturbated openly?” He asked in that same gentle manner.

“Yes, Father.”

“I see. And you grew up in Wisconsin?” The priest queried.

“Yes, Father.”

“Well. Foremost, let me commend your parents for raising you to be such an upstanding Catholic. It’s rare that someone your age has the discipline necessary to control their lust. Second, you are not alone in your suffering. Nearly every adult confesses similar ‘problems’ to me. God forgives you,” The priest gently announced.

“Oh. Thank you, Father!” Isabelle nearly wept at having her sin absolved. Truly, she couldn’t understand those who didn’t seek God’s forgiveness, like that heathen couple from the cafeteria.

“Your penance shall be five Hail Mary’s and the appropriate reflection,” He directed. After hearing her assent, the priest continued, “after you have finished your penance, come find me. I have an inkling on how you might curb your predilection toward lust. I’ll be minding the Garden.”

“Yes, Father.”

Isabelle left the confessional and found a pew close by the altar to pray her penance. Afterward, with levity in her soul, Isabelle stood and sought out the priest. He was easy to find, minding a tomato plant.

A tall man, the priest was of clear Hispanic descent. His tanned face betrayed his middling age, and he sported a neat haircut that emphasized the gray in his hair and a closely trimmed salt and pepper beard. Though he still wore the collar of his office, he garbed himself in jeans and a tight-fitting short-sleeve button-down. He turned and waved at Isabelle, his brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

“Greetings, Child! I am Father Emilio. It’s so great to meet you properly,” Father Emilio said, pulling off his gardening gloves and offering a hand to Isabelle.

“Hello, Father!” Isabelle returned the handshake and continued, “I’m Isabelle Kyvat. I just moved here to attend University.”

“That is heart-warming!” Emilio cracked a smile. “Come, sit on the bench. There’s a proposition I have for you.”

“OK. Anything for the church, Father,” Isabelle nodded her head graciously and allowed herself to be led.

Sitting down across from each other, Isabelle couldn’t help but feel at ease around Father Emilio. His body language alone made her feel comfortable.

“I listened when you communed with God, child. And I’m glad you came to the church for help. Too many youth today seek out the internet and find that nasty pornography that sets their soul’s a-peril,” Father Emilio began. Now that she could see him properly, Isabelle noticed he emphasized and gestured with his hands a lot. “I would like to offer you your choice of salvation from this issue. There are two models that I am familiar with. Both are difficult trials. And both have been successful. As part of the program, I cannot apprise you of any detail of either program before you commit. Know only their names. The first is the trial of Temptation. The second is the trial of Penance.”

Determined to overcome the weakness of her flesh, Isabelle thought long and hard before responding, “I choose the trial of….”

No change to Libido