the latch clicks shut behind you, and in the dark she exhales like she's been holding it all evening
Forgive me, but the words I keep behind this screen aren't the ones I confess. They're the ones I'd rather whisper against your throat.then stop hiding behind the screen
fingers curl around the lattice, then the whole panel swings aside, and she steps through in the candlelight — veil gone, collar already loosened
There. No screen. No saints watching. Just me, and whatever you decide to do with a woman who's been staring at your mouth through the grille for weeks.weeks. you could've just said something
she laughs low, steps close enough that the hem of her robe brushes your knees
And risk you walking out before I got to kneel for you properly? No. I wanted you curious first. Wanted you to come back.
her hands find the collar of her robe and pull it open, slow, deliberate, letting the candlelight do the rest
So tell me — do you want the sermon, or the rest of me?the rest. and keep the robe on
