Catharsis (Lessons In Sin), page 1
Catharsis
Fiona Lust
Copyright © 2022 Fiona Lust
All rights reserved*
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN:9798831962055
Cover design by: Art Painter
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Carly Wade with all of my love.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Bonus Material
Afterword
Acknowledgement
About The Author
Books In This Series
Books By This Author
Prologue
He was there. Waiting for me. The man who could have saved me from a life of luxurious misery was standing right there. At my doorstep.
And my heart couldn’t be happier. He was staring at me, just as I was staring at him, unable to believe that he had come all this way to find me. And I knew that this was serious, otherwise he wouldn't be here in the flesh. I must have done something right after all. Hoping and praying that this wasn’t just another of life’s wicked games, I slowly urge my feet to walk toward him as he does the same. It’s freezing, but I feel like a volcano has just erupted inside my chest, burning everything in its wake. When he finally talks to me, I want to cherish his words for all eternity, because back when I’d asked him to choose me, he’d turned the other way and let me go. And we’d both paid the price for it.
“My God, Jonathan, what are you doing here?” I croak, my voice barely a whisper from the shock.
“What do you think?” he croons, walking closer and picking up my carry-on. “Can we please go inside? I’ve been waiting here for hours.”
Chapter 1
My mind is reeling as we step into the elevator that quickly moves us directly to my penthouse apartment. I rummage in my purse for my keys for the longest time and when I finally fish them out, I stick them in the lock and walk inside, him on my tail.
“How’d you find where I lived, J? I never told you that.”
“You left your name and address at the nearby church, for your grandmother's services, remember? I had to sneak behind your back, otherwise, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“I see. You want a drink? I sure could use one right now.”
“Sure,” he says, scanning the apartment from corner to corner. “I like what you’ve done with this place. Looks very cozy.”
I walk back to him, hand him a glass of chilled red wine and take the seat next to him. “Thanks. I like the peace here. Excuse me just one sec, okay? I need to let Josh know I’ve made it back safely. He gets antsy when he doesn’t hear back from me after my dates.”
He takes a long sip, then his eyes meet mine. “Don’t mind me, then.”
I speed-dial Josh and after telling him I’ve made it back in one piece, I hang up the phone a moment later.
“Miranda…” he starts and I am excited and afraid about what his next words are going to be. “May I ask who this man is?”
“Josh is the man who’s looking out for me. I don’t even know if I’d have made it as far if it wasn’t for his help.”
He swallows hard at my words and I brace myself for the questions I feel brewing inside his head. “Is he your lover, too?”
I look straight into his eyes when I answer, I have no intention of lying or sugar coating any of the things I’ve done while at work. “He was. But not anymore. He’s in a committed relationship with someone now.”
He simply nods, then utters his next words that have my world reeling. “I’ve decided to leave the Church, Miranda. I want to give our relationship a chance if you’d still have me.”
“Oh my God, Jonathan, are you serious? So, this is not a friendly visit?” I say, stunned that he would even think of leaving the Church after he spent his entire life under oath.
“Yes,” he says, his voice now low and even. “Your last visit made me think about things differently.” He takes another sip while still looking at me. “I realized that my life is not how I’ve imagined it. Seeing you again after all this time brought back all the feelings I had for you. Feelings that I’d buried deep after we parted ways.”
“You decided to leave now? After all these years of being a Priest? But why now, Jonathan?” I mumble, still stunned at his sudden change of heart. His mere presence here, sitting right in front of me is unnerving. I force a smile but he sees right through it.
“Why not now? I thought you'd be happy to see me.”
“See you, yes. I just didn't expect you to drop this bomb on me, that's all.”
"Well, I’m not sorry I did. Things change, Miranda. My sister came by to visit me a couple of days after you left. You’ve never met her. She’s just been diagnosed with a rare form of leukemia. We had a long conversation and I told her about your recent visit. She reminded me that life’s way too short not to follow what your heart desires most.” He takes a long pause, another sip of his wine, and continues. “That was the turning point for me, I guess. Seeing Mary again, hearing about her news, and thinking of you. I realized I had been following my mind all my life. Not anymore, Miranda."
He reaches out and takes my hand in his, squeezing tightly and I somehow feel ashamed. Unworthy. And confused as hell.
“From now on I’m going to follow my heart. And my heart wants you.” A deep sigh leaves my lips and he looks deep into my eyes. His discomfort is evident in the tone of his voice and I’ve never seen him unsettled like this before.
Although, I have to wonder how he’d react if he knew that I have the cum of three men dripping out of me as we speak and that I’ve just had my first sexual experience with a woman. Maybe now is not the right time to tell him all the intimate details of my work life.
“I’m sorry to hear about your sister, J. Life’s damn hard, I’ll tell you that. I hope she’ll get better soon.”
“I hope so too. I strongly believe in the power of prayer,” he says, then notices me fidgeting in my seat. “Did I come at a bad time? Were you planning on going out again?” he adds a second later.
“No, I just got back after a very long weekend. I am knackered.”
“I can imagine,” is all he says, refusing to look at me, and my nerves suddenly get the best of me.
“Can you? I mean, can you really imagine, Jonathan? Do you have any idea of all the nasty, degrading, utterly humiliating things I do and have done to me?”
That shuts him up, just like I intended, but not for long. “You think I don’t know what those men do to you, Miranda? Or what your work entails? Please don’t insult my intelligence like this, baby. I’m a grown man. I know about the sins of the flesh.”
I can’t help but scoff at his last phrase, the look in his eyes one I've never seen before. “The sins of the flesh? That’s what you call them? It seems rather childish, don’t you think?” I take a deep breath, then slowly exhale before I hit him with the truth about my world again.
“Do you know what’s worse, Jonathan? I like it. I’ve come to crave the depravity that comes from being used as a sex toy. I like to be dominated. Spat on. Degraded and humiliated and it has nothing to do with money and everything to do with my broken soul. Because the girl you once left behind when all she needed was you, has transformed into the worst kind of sinner, one your Holy God would never forgive.”
If my words shock him in the least, his expression stays the same, exuding the same calmness that I’ve always remembered.
“I hear you,” he finally says an eternity later. “I hear you, baby.”
I reach out to take his hand and hold it in mine. “I have grown to like things that will disgust you, Jonathan. Vanilla sex is not the norm in my life, not for a very long time now. How will we ever make it work?”
“So, you like it rough. I’m not sure I can give you that, or any of the other things you just told me. But I can try to be what you want, what you need. I promise you that.”
“That’s sweet, J,” I simply say. “I know you will, baby.”
“You said you’re tired. How about I draw you a hot bath and give you a massage after? No expectations.”
His words trail off, making me think of our last night together. “That'd be great because you wouldn’t want to touch me. Not after the things I just did.”
Instantly, he shoots up and looks around, searching for the bathroom. “It's the door to your left.”
He vanishes for a good ten minutes before he comes back, a warm smile lingering on his bearded face. “The water should be warm enough for you. I also added in some of the bubbles I found sitting on the shelf. I always remember you smelling like jasmine.”
“Thank you, I’m sure it’s perfect, J.
Under any other circumstances, I'd ask him to join me but right now my mind is all over the place and I can’t think straight to save my life.
Chapter 2
Almost forty minutes later, I walk into the bedroom half certain that Jonathan is going to be there waiting but to my surprise he is still in the living room, watching TV on mute. “Sorry I took so long. Why didn't you turn the sound on?”
“I prefer it that way. Less noise,” he says and my heart flutters in my chest because more often than not I mute the TV as well. “Ready for your massage?”
“If you're not too tired. I know it’s getting late.”
He stands from the couch, extends a hand to me and I interlace my fingers with his. Once there he releases my hand and goes to dim the lights. Meanwhile, I wrap the towel tighter around my chest and lie in the middle of my king-size bed atop the disheveled sheets and comforter.
He climbs next to me as I turn from my side onto my stomach, my shoulders and legs exposed to his gaze.
“Do you have any lotions or oils I can use?”
I point towards my side table and he reaches for a bottle, placing a few dollops in the palm of his hand before rubbing them together to warm the lotion. Once his hands touch me, my breath quickens and my heart flutters inside my chest. His hands rub the tension away, but after a while, the towel rises, exposing part of my buttocks and I can instantly feel his lingering gaze as he takes in the damage.
I am so used to bruises, scratches, and welts that his persistent glare only highlights my flaws, making me look like the person I am under all the fancy clothes and expensive makeup.
A prostitute.
He sighs deeply as his hand glides over my skin and he does his best not to touch the belt welts that Luca left on me this morning.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “They look worse than they feel.”
“What do you use to make them heal?”
“I usually put some aloe vera cream on before bed. It’s in the refrigerator door.”
“I'll be right back. Don’t move.”
He’s quick in returning and he warns me of the cold before applying the cooling cream to my bruised flesh.
A moan slips past my lips at the delicious sensation of his hands and the diminishing sting.
His fingers trail up my back, then across my shoulder blades and on the sides of my neck and I feel his imminent question even before he utters the words.
“They have been pretty rough with you,” he states and I can't do anything to hide the truth from him. He needs to see this battered, broken woman I am today.
“Yes,” I whisper, in hopes he will not push further.
His hands stop caressing me and I can sense his rising anger.
“I want you to stop doing this, M. This life is no way to live. I’m worried for your safety. At a minimum, when was the last time you got tested?”
I turn around and sit up, my eyes locked with his. “You weren’t too concerned about this the last time I slept with you. Why now, Jonathan? By the way, I’m clean. I am not some random street whore. This is my job, my profession, remember?”
He lets out a sigh of discontent before speaking again. “I can’t do this unless you leave your job, Miranda. I want you to live with me. Stay with me.” His voice has turned serious, showing me a side of himself I rarely see.
“Did you think you’d just barge back into my life after all this time and claim me back? That it’d be that easy? Did you not hear a word I said before?”
“Yes, I did. I heard everything you said. I still want to be with you. But not like this. If we are going to give our relationship a shot, I need you to stop what you are doing.”
“And replace it with what, exactly? I have no qualifications or degrees, Jonathan. I’ve been a sex worker all my adult life. That is all I know how to do.” I hate that my voice has grown so cold and bitter but if we are ever going to have a chance together, this has to be dealt with as soon as possible. “I’m thirty-four years old, baby. I don’t have many more years to make top dollar in my profession. I will not give those years up unless I know you are absolutely serious.”
“You don’t have to work if you don’t want to, honey. I’ll find a job to sustain us both,” he says matter-of-factly like it’s the easiest thing in the world for a priest and a sex worker to switch jobs.
“You’ve never worked anywhere, J,” I spit back, getting more frustrated as this conversation progresses.
“Now you’re just being stubborn. You know I can handle myself and I’m pretty sure you can too.”
“I’m really tired, Jonathan. Could we please talk about this another time? In the morning, maybe, over breakfast?”
“Sure thing, M,” he mumbles but the frustration is more than evident in his tone.
His warmth leaves me when he climbs out of bed and goes back into the living room while I close my eyes and try to wrap my head around what just happened.
Chapter 3
It’s way past breakfast time when I wake up the next day and my body is sore all over. I sit up, stretching my arms and craning my neck from side to side when it suddenly dawns on me that last night was real. Jonathan is here, claiming me back. I climb out of bed with a heavy sigh and head for the bathroom to splash some water on my face when I hear the unfamiliar sound of pots and pans clanging in my kitchen. A few minutes later, I walk in to find Jonathan half-covered in flour, breaking eggs into a bowl, then whisking it all together. His eyes land on me and he stops altogether.
“Hey, M. Pancakes and fruit okay?” he asks and I give him a half-smile, pulling back a stool and perching on it.
“That’s perfect, thank you. I cannot remember the last time anyone made me breakfast.” That simple gesture is incredibly heart-warming to me. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine,” he says with more heat behind his words than I’d expect. I watch as he starts pouring the batter into a large pan, turning up the heat. “How about you? Feeling better?”
I could lie but he doesn’t deserve it. “I’ve been better,” I confess, looking straight into his eyes. "You gave me a lot to think about."
He washes his hands and dries them off with a towel. “So have you, sweetheart. Anything I can do to help?”
I shake my head, look at the mess he’s created in my barely used kitchen and I know he's trying. “I just need some time to process things, okay?”
He turns over the pancakes, then focuses back on me. “I don't want to pressure you into anything, babe. We can figure this out together,” he says calmly, plating the perfectly cooked pancakes and cutting two overly ripe bananas over top.
“Can we really, Jonathan?” I didn’t think this would be the moment these words leave my mouth but I’m utterly frustrated and have no idea how to make him realize that we may not work. No matter how hard we want to. I look at my plate and I've suddenly lost my appetite to eat anything. “Do you know I can't have children? You've always said how much you'd love to have a large family. I can't even give you that,” I croak, and it's at that exact time that my phone starts buzzing. I look at the caller ID, recognizing him as one of my regulars. I decline the call, then focus back on our conversation.
“One of your customers, I presume?”
I cut into the pancakes, trying to avoid his inquisitive glare, but can’t force myself to eat. “Yes. He won’t be happy I didn’t answer.”
“I’m sure he won’t,” he says, his words laced with sarcasm, before softening his tone and continuing. “Thank you for that.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I don’t know how I can just switch off my life and turn over a new leaf, J. People here know who I am, and what I do. I can’t hide from them or avoid their calls. And I’ve just told you I can't have children. What do you think about that?”
“I don’t expect you to simply switch things off, Miranda. We can move back home, start fresh.”
The regular calls again, interrupting his train of thought until I let it go to voicemail.
