1980

Sunday evening. St Cuthbert's Church, Beresford.

As his congregation left the church, the women paused and spoke to the vicar. Partners always failed to see the wicked gleam in their eyes. Ian Spence shook their hands, thanked them and wished them well.

At almost six feet, Ian had dark, short-cut black hair and olive skin. An entrancing smile radiated from his mouth. Not one feature defined him, although his eyes came close. An overpowering love shone from them.

He glanced up at the dark, cumulous clouds tumbling across the sky. With a narcissistic grin, he entered the church, locked the main door and hurried to the vestry.

On opening the door, he saw a smiling face. "Elizabeth, you're a drug, and I'm the addict. I must have you. How long do we have?" They locked eyes, safe with one another.

"Ted has business in the town. I know who he's with, so he won't be home until later." Her face flushed a light crimson.

His insatiable need to have Elizabeth began the first moment they met. In her late thirties, she had kept in shape and with a hint of muscle, which went a long way in his craving to seduce her. Ian gave one of his beautiful smiles. He lifted his right hand, letting it stroke her breasts before wrapping his arms around her back. He sensed her body tremble as her lips shifted towards his. The kiss was hard and passionate, increasing his shameless thoughts.

He kissed her open-mouthed with a raw intensity, knowing it heightened her hunger. Hips gyrated and touched until her back arched in anticipation. As if time was their enemy, clothes fell to the floor.

Naked and aroused, he shivered as her right hand clawed his back.

He lowered her onto the carpeted floor.

She lifted her thighs as he slid between her legs and entered her. Perceptive from the games they had played before, he knew she would be submissive to his demands. Her body shuddered as a tsunami of pleasure struck her.

Sated, he rolled onto his back.

Ready, she mounted him. In minutes, another spasm of release wracked her body.

Before she could catch her breath, he rolled her over.

He grabbed a mass of her hair with both hands, pulling her head back. Sensations of pain and pleasure grew as he drove into her. He laughed as her body shuddered with a momentous climax.

Exhausted, he lay beside her and waited for her hand to move. This he enjoyed as it took no effort on his part. He smiled when she slipped her mouth over his erection. She closed her lips and took as much of him as possible.

"It's time you left. Can't have people talking."

She turned and rubbed her right hand over his chest. "Who is going to talk about us? No one will ever know what we do in private."

He chuckled. "You're supposed to be sorting the flowers. If you want, we can do it again next Sunday."

"Try and stop me. Where did you learn to please women?"

He grinned. "At boarding school. A Miss Jane Fair supervised our accommodation. She called me into her office on my sixteenth birthday. I'd often fantasised as boys do about having sex with her. During the day, she appeared introverted and shy. It was my lucky day, and our clothes littered the floor in minutes. I was a virgin, but with her guidance, and like a sailor on leave, I was into her. From her, I discovered what women want from sex. Our liaison continued until she left to get married.

"Anyway, you'd better get dressed. Can't have you catching a cold."

With a firm grip on her arm, he guided her from the vestry to the door, opened it wide, and watched her leave. When he closed and locked the door, his thoughts turned to the younger woman who had organised the choir.

***

Ian strolled along the stone path towards the bishop's front door as if he did not have a care in the world. Pausing, he glanced at the gardens before pressing the bell push.

A white-haired woman who, at first glance, looked as if life had passed her by stood at the open door. "Have you an appointment?" Her body and face performed the right movements, but any emotion had long gone.

He gave one of his angelic smiles. "Yes, with the bishop at ten o'clock."

"Come in, shut the door and wait here." She was gone before he could reply.

Ian turned his attention to studying the rather long entrance hall. With every door closed, the interior appeared dull.

A door opened. "In here," said the woman.

Holding his silver cross to his chest, he entered a small, almost empty room. One large oak desk and a single chair, the only furniture, stood before a small leaded window.

"He will see you in a minute." The woman left through a door to his right.

Ten minutes elapsed before the bishop arrived and seated himself.

He glared at Ian. "At least you were on time. I have received a complaint from Isobel Barnet, one of your parishioners. She says you were intimate with her on several occasions. Is this correct?"

Taken aback, Ian fumbled for the words. "Isobel has problems at home and initiated the affair. She told me sex with her husband was always once a week on a Friday night. I accept it was a sex-driven affair and blame her. I pray she didn't say I forced her. I would say, as God is my witness, it was consensual. She told me she wanted more passion in her life."

The bishop drummed his fingers on the table as his glare silenced Ian. "As of now, you are no longer the vicar of St Cuthbert's. You're a charming creature who persuades gullible women to join you in certain sexual acts. She told me in private she believed you loved her and would spend the rest of your lives together."

Ian interrupted. "I never said I loved her. It was pure consensual sex. No more and no less. Her marriage is on the rocks. From what she told me, her husband is having an affair. Desperate, she came to me for counselling."

"Shut up, Ian. Parishioners confide in you to unburden their worries. Not for sex in the vestry. You forget I know you can charm the birds out of the trees. It doesn't matter whether you said those words or not. By your constant actions, she believed you.

"Casanova Vicar Abuses Female Parishioners. I can see the headlines. Yet, as no one saw your activities, I persuaded her not to contact the police or go to the papers."

With his face indicating the concern of years, the bishop said, "I have talked to our lawyers. They tell me you have not committed a crime. The archbishop proposed you have a chance to restore your integrity. I'd prefer you found employment elsewhere, anywhere but here."

Ian's eyes narrowed. "I know I've messed up, and I'm relieved it's out in the open. Do you know of any treatment or course I can undertake to help with my problem?"

"Abstinence and prayer cleanse the soul." The bishop spread his hands wide. "I recommend you find a God-fearing woman and marry her or leave the church.

"The bishop removed a buff envelope from a writing desk on the far wall. "This is your new parish. Your last chance."

"I can't see that happening, but God works in mysterious ways."

He opened the envelope while on the bus, returning him to St Cuthbert's. He chuckled as he studied its contents. One church, six villages. A three-bedroom dwelling house with a live-in housekeeper. Not so bad, and I guarantee an assortment of lonely and frustrated women. Sorry, Bishop. Nothing has changed."