The minute she set foot inside the hall and the door closed behind her, Redmond put his tongue in her mouth and slipped a hand under her dress to touch a silken cool thigh. As he kissed her, his hand went higher, delving deeper.
‘Oh God… oh, Father!’ she gasped in shock and delight against his lips.
‘You’ve been driving me insane,’ he said, and kissed her again.
He said this to all of them, of course, all the little titbits he enjoyed, because it fed their female vanity, made them proud. They’d turned a priest, sworn to celibacy, their charms so overwhelming that even fear of God left him unable to resist.
She was Sally Westover, who was married to Bill Westover, who almost certainly hadn’t strayed because he was such a dull bugger, but Father Delaney wasn’t going to tell her that. Instead he took her upstairs to his single priest’s bed and gave her the hammering of her life.
Then…
‘Oh God, the phone…’ she moaned.
Damned thing was ringing, right by the bed.
‘Don’t stop,’ he ordered her, snatching it up. ‘Yes?’ he said.
‘Is that Redmond Delaney?’ asked a male voice.
‘Who wants him?’ asked Redmond, watching Sally’s large pendulous nude breasts bouncing around above him while she straddled him, impaling herself repeatedly on his manhood and wheezing like an asthmatic chimpanzee.
Oh, she’s a good one, he thought.
Later he was going to indoctrinate her properly into the ways of the flesh. She’d barely touched the surface, he could see that. She was a keen amateur, that was all. After this afternoon she would be full of remorse. She was a wife, a mother (he could tell that because she was quite loose), and she would be so guilty. He would tweak that guilt, hang his head in shame, say she had made him commit this sin, betray his vows.
Oh yes. Such fun and games he would have with Sally Westover. He would introduce her to the delights of pain and ice and fire, to bondage and choking, all those darker aspects of sexuality that were his preferred territory.
‘This is Gary Tooley,’ said the voice on the phone. ‘You don’t know me, but-’
‘The one who runs the Blue Parrot?’ asked Redmond, thinking that Sally was banging away so hard now that it was getting difficult to maintain his control. He remembered Tooley. Redmond had a good memory, a very fine brain in fact, and he knew that Gary Tooley worked for the Carters.
He wondered – briefly – how Tooley had got hold of this number. He didn’t like people tracking him down; as a rule, Redmond liked to do the stalking if there was stalking to be done. In fact, he enjoyed it.
