Under Mr. Nolan’s Bed

CHAPTER SIX

The first time I saw him after what happened was in the supermarket. I was running back to get a head of lettuce for my mother and there he was, standing in the produce section with one of those hand carts, putting a quart of strawberries in. I almost didn’t say anything at all, but the sight of him made me feel like melting and I couldn’t help it.

“Hi, Mr. Nolan.”

He fumbled his basket, turning. “Leah!”

We stood there for a moment, and I knew he was remembering the other night. I had an urge to touch him and fought it. His eyes moved over my uniform-mom had picked me up early from school for a dentist appointment and then we’d come here-lingering at the hem of my skirt and then moving up again.

I glanced into his basket. “Strawberries and chocolate?”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat, letting the basket down to swing at his side, as if he didn’t want me to see. He nodded toward what was in my hands.

“Lettuce?”

“My mom’s making taco salad.” I peered into his basket anyway. “For dinner tonight. She’s waiting in line.”

“Well, then.” He turned and picked up a pint of blueberries-a clear dismissal, and my chest burned with it. “Guess you better get back.”

“Wine?” I crossed my arms and nodded toward his basket. “And shrimp…

and capers… and pine nuts?”

“Yes.” His voice was hard. “I’m making a nice dinner for Jennifer this weekend.”

“Leah!” It was my mother’s voice from behind me.

“She’s the one you came home with that night.” I frowned. Something thick was lodged in my throat. “The blonde?”

He nodded, putting the blueberries back and looking over my shoulder.

His voice changed, becoming that fake tone that all the adults around me seemed to speak in. “Patty! How are you?”

“Hi, Rob.” My mother pushed the cart up beside me. “I’m good, how are you and Erica?”

“Great.” He smiled. It wasn’t his real smile. I tried to catch his eye but he was clearly avoiding me.

“Can you believe they’re seniors already?” My mother reached for the lettuce and I relinquished it. “I forgot the cheese, too, Leah. I don’t know where my head is lately!”

“They sure do grow fast,” Mr. Nolan agreed, still avoiding my eyes. “It was good seeing you both. I’ve got to run.”

“Mr. Nolan,” I said and he turned back, only halfway, his body stiff. “Erica and I need to work on our senior project this weekend. Can I stay over?”

“That’s due next week, isn’t it?” My mother put her heel up on the bottom rack of the cart. She was still in her work clothes and when she leaned forward, her blouse parted at the neck. I saw Mr. Nolan’s eyes settle there and I made a face at him, but he didn’t see it. “Maybe Erica can spend the night at our place, instead? I hardly ever see Leah anymore, it seems!”

Mr. Nolan raised his eyebrows. “That would be—”

“Oh, wait!” My mother sighed, opening her purse and glancing at me. “I forgot, your father and I are having that investment club thing at our place this weekend.”

“That’s all right.” His jaw tightened and I noticed that his hand was gripping the handle of the basket hard-his knuckles were white.

“I’m sorry, Rob,” she apologized, flipping through her date book. “Yep, it’s this weekend.”

“So we can do it at your house, then, Mr. Nolan?” I moved to stand slightly behind my mother and winked at him from there. “Since it’s due next week and all…”

“That would be a favor to us, too.” My mother smiled at Mr. Nolan, leaning forward again, almost like she knew he was looking. “I’d appreciate it.” His eyes went from her to me and when I knew I had his attention, I put my finger to my mouth and touched my lower lip, wetting it and rubbing it there, trying to tell him with my eyes how much I wanted him. I think he got the message-his face went white and he looked quickly back to my mother. His mouth opened to speak but nothing coming out.

Finally, he pursed his lips, blinking fast, and nodded. “Sure, Patty. That’s fine.”

I smiled, trying to get his attention, but he turned away, saying, “Good to see you.” He didn’t sound like he meant it, though, and he started walking away without even looking back.

My mother started pushing our cart in the other direction, heading towards the dairy section. I followed her, my head filled with thoughts of Mr. Nolan, my chest burning with the thought of him making dinner for some woman. I knew I had foiled his plan-and then I felt a twinge of guilt.

“Oh, damn,” my mother swore, holding the salsa. “Leah, this is mild, and I know you guys like the hot. Can you run back for one?”

“Sure,” I agreed, grabbing it and heading back toward where we had last seen Mr. Nolan.

He wasn’t there and I strolled down the end aisle, looking up and down the rows. I found him in the “International” section, putting pasta in his basket.

Luckily, salsa was in the same aisle, and I replaced the mild, grabbing a jar marked “hot.”

“Hi, again,” I said, coming up behind him and tapping him on the shoulder.

He turned, glancing past me, and I knew he was looking for my mother. “She sent me for salsa.” I held up the jar as explanation. “We like the hot stuff.”

“Uh-huh.” He raised his eyebrows and I realized what I’d said, blushing.

“Are you mad at me?” I cocked my head and frowned.

He cleared his throat. “No, Leah. I just…” His eyes fell to the tile and he shifted the basket from one hand to the other. “I don’t think we should… do this.” My heart was pounding in my ears. “Talk in a supermarket aisle?”

“No, Leah.” He shook his head and sighed.

“Hey.” I touched his arm.

His eyes went to my hand and he gently took it off his forearm, and the look on his face was kind, but a little sad. “I’m sorry.” He turned and walked down the aisle and I watched him go, willing him to look back, but he didn’t. I had this awful feeling, that same sensation I got when I knew I’d done something really wrong. I fought it, but it curled up in my belly and stayed there, even after I took the salsa back to my mother and we went through the checkout lane.

I saw him again in the parking lot and waved, but he didn’t wave back, although I know he saw me. I could tell, the way he slammed the trunk closed and got quickly into his car, like something was chasing him.

I couldn’t understand it. It made no sense. The more I thought about it, the more I knew what I had to do-as much as I didn’t want to. That’s how I ended up standing in line at the confessional after mass with all the rest of the girls, waiting my turn. I didn’t even have Erica for moral support-she had skipped mass altogether to go meet Bobby.

“Come on, go already,” the girl behind me whined, a little sophomore with stringy brown hair and braces.

It was my turn. I stared at the door and started forward and then stopped.

“You go ahead.” I waved her past.

The sophomore rolled her eyes, pushing up her glasses as she swept by me. There were six more girls to go, and I slipped quietly down the line against the wall, falling in behind the last. It had been two years since I chewed my nails, but I was seriously tempted by the time the line had dwindled to me and one other girl.

“Do you want to go?” she asked me as the confessional door opened.

“You’ve been waiting the longest.”

“No!” I exclaimed. “No, that’s ok. I don’t mind waiting. Take your time.” She gave me a funny look, going into the confessional. I paced the wall, up and down, chewing on one of my cuticles and sucking at it when it started to bleed. I secretly hoped that girl ahead of me had a lot to confess. I didn’t know her very well-maybe she shoplifted, or maybe she was a compulsive liar, or maybe she did something really awful, like murdering babies in their sleep or…

Or maybe she just slept with her best friend’s dad.

The door opened and she came out. Definitely not a baby killer-she hadn’t spent anywhere near enough time in the box. She practically skipped past me, and I knew, if I could just manage to get the words out in the confessional, that I would feel lighter, too.

“Bless my father, for I have sinned…”

Boy, have I sinned.

The darkness was engulfing and I could hear the priest’s slow, even breathing through the screen. I knew it was probably Father Michael-he was the one who almost always took our confessions.

“My last confession was two weeks ago…” Two weeks. Had it only been two weeks?! I couldn’t believe the things that had happened since then-it felt like a lifetime.

“Go on.” It was Father Michael’s soft voice. I could picture him in his robe, gray-haired and nodding. I could hear the smile in his voice. That’s gonna change in just a minute, I thought with a grimace.

“Father, I’ve done… I’ve really done some terrible things…” I admitted, twisting my hands in my lap. “Mortal sins. Lots of them. Really bad ones.” There was a movement behind the screen, like he was sitting up straight in his chair. “Go on, my child.”

“I’ve… I’ve looked at dirty pictures, Father.” I decided to start at the beginning and work my way up.

“What do you mean?” His voice moved closer to the screen. “What kinds of dirty pictures?”

“Oh, Father.” I sighed. “All kinds. There were ones with men having sex with women in all sorts of ways, and ones with women having sex with other women…”

“How do you feel about looking at them, child?”

“I… guess… I feel guilty.”

“You don’t sound like you feel guilty.”

I sighed. He had me there. “Well… when I was looking at the pictures…

the things I saw made me feel… funny.”

“Funny… how?” He shifted in his seat again.

I blushed, glad for the darkness. “Between my legs, Father. Down there.” He didn’t respond, and I went on. “And it felt soooo good… I couldn’t help it, Father. I had to touch myself.”

“You touched yourself… down there?” His voice got even lower than the normal confessional tone.

“Yes,” I admitted with a sigh. “I looked at those pictures, and then we watched the videos…”

“Videos?” he inquired. “Who is we?”

“Oh…” I swallowed. “My best friend and me. We found the pictures and the movies under her dad’s bed.”

“She watched them with you?”

“Yes, Father,” I said. “That’s another thing… we… we touched each other, too.”

There was a long silence.

“Father?”

“Go on,” he urged, clearing his throat. “Tell me everything.”

“She had a vibrator,” I continued, feeling the heat in my face. “And she showed me… how to rub it against… how to masturbate… with it…”

“Is that all?”

“No.” I lifted my hands to my cheeks to cool them. “Not even close. Oh, Father, we were so bad…”

“How bad?” His voice seemed closer now.

“The first time, I just played with the vibrator, and then I watched her do it… and we both… we both had orgasms. Watching the videos, where all the people were having sex and touching each other and…” I gasped for breath, remembering it and feeling the heat from my cheeks spreading through my whole body. My nipples were hard and my pussy was tingling between my legs.

“Go on,” he insisted. “You should tell me everything.”

“Okay,” I agreed, closing my eyes. “The next day… we watched them again. This time there were two women who were licking each other in the movie.

Down there.”

Something like a soft moan came from behind the screen.

“And my friend… she said… she would lick me… down there,” I went on.

There was that moan again, and he whispered something, but I couldn’t hear it.

“So I let her, Father. I let her put her tongue between my legs and lick me and lick me… oh Father, it’s so bad, I know, but it felt so good!” I squeezed my thighs together, feeling that throbbing ache. The priest didn’t say anything, so I just kept talking.

“Then she asked if I would lick her. Oh Father, I knew it was wrong… but she wanted it so much, and I knew how good it would make her feel… I couldn’t help it. I licked her until she… she had an orgasm, too.” Father Michael took a deep breath. “Is that all?”

“Oh, no, Father!” I leaned back against the wall. “I forgot to tell you… about her dad.”

“Your friend’s dad?” I could hear the frown in his voice.

“Yes,” I said, remembering that first night. “I saw him… that first time we looked at the dirty pictures, I got up that night to go to the bathroom, and I saw him touching himself.”

“He was masturbating?”

“Yes, Father,” I confirmed. “He had his hand… wrapped around it… and he was pumping it in his fist… while he watched three people have sex…”

“Three?”

“Two women and a man,” I clarified. “The women were on top of each other, and the man was… putting his… penis… into both of them…”

“Both of them?”

“Not at the same time,” I added. “One after the other… first one… then the other…”

“Oh good Lord,” he breathed and then cleared his throat. “Good Lord, please hear this girl’s sins so that she may be cleansed… go on, child…”

“I watched him… stroking himself like that…” My breath was coming faster in the dark. “And I touched myself, too…”

“Did you have an… orgasm?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “Right when he did. I’d never seen a man… not a real one… there was stuff everywhere… all over his hand and his belly…”

“Oh my child,” Father Michael breathed. “This is all… so… very naughty…”

“Yes,” I agreed. “That’s why I had to come tell you, Father. I never meant for it to go so far, but I couldn’t seem to stop… I can’t seem to stop…”

“How far?” He leaned in again.

“Too far,” I admitted, blushing. “All the way too far…” He was quiet and so was I. Then, he asked, “You’re no longer a virgin?”

“Father, you… don’t understand,” I breathed. “He’s so… he makes me feel so good. Just being around him. And I know he really likes me, I can tell.”

“What happened?”

I sighed. “I saw him again… the next night. He was touching himself and watching one of the movies. This time… I didn’t just watch…”

“What did you do?”

“I… went into the room,” I told him. “He didn’t notice. He was stroking himself and moaning and watching the people on the TV having sex. I just wanted to be near him… and so I crept closer and closer… until I was standing next to the bed.”

“Then?” he prompted after a moment. I was too lost in my thoughts, remembering Mr. Nolan and the way he looked up at me, like a drowning man.

“Then I took my panties off… and I touched myself, too.” I felt my pussy respond to just the memory. “And I got down on my knees in front of him… and I told him… I wanted to make him feel good…”

Father Michael groaned, not softly this time. “Did you?”

“Yes.”

“Did you give him your virginity?”

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “Not that time. That time I only took him into my mouth.”

“You… what?”

“I… took him into my mouth and… I sucked it… until he came…” I didn’t know if he would know that word, but I was so distracted, and he didn’t ask for clarification. “He filled my mouth with all of that stuff… that I’d seen shooting over his hand and belly the night before… and I swallowed it all…”

“Oh,” Father Michael breathed, and I heard him make a low noise, and there was some shuffling going on behind the screen.

“It was the next time that I gave him my virginity,” I whispered. “I caught him again, just like before.”

“Did you… consider… that perhaps you shouldn’t-?”

“Oh, Father, I know.” I nodded in the dark. “I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted him so much. You don’t understand. I don’t understand.”

“It’s alright, child,” he soothed. “Tell me what happened. Tell me everything.”

“He was hard again,” I explained, closing my eyes and remembering, reliving it. “And he was stroking himself. Moaning and thrusting up into his hand.

It made me so wet.”

“Wet,” Father Michael repeated, sounding dazed.

“Yes, sooo very wet,” I admitted. I was wet now-I could feel it on my thighs when I squeezed my legs together. “And I wanted him so much. I went over to the bed, and asked him if he wanted to touch me… we both knew, Father… we knew it was wrong… but the minute he touched my pussy, the moment his fingers slipped inside me, I knew we just couldn’t stop…”

There were no words from behind the screen, but Father Michael’s breathing was audible—and fast. My own breathing was fast, too, and my pussy ached for me to touch it. I fought the urge, squirming on the hard seat.

“He pulled me on top of him, then,” I went on. “And he started to lick me…

oh god, his tongue felt so good… I can’t believe how good it makes me feel to have a warm, wet tongue between my legs… how can something so wrong feel so good?”

Father Michael groaned again, and I found my hand between my thighs, cupping the soaking wet crotch of my panties, before I could even think. I just had to alleviate some of the ache.

“And I started sucking him, too,” I whispered, pressing my fingers against my pussy, wiggling them a little. My clit was throbbing. “Taking him into my mouth, over and over. He seemed to really like it, when I did that.”

“Yes,” Father Michael gasped. “Oh, go on…”

I glanced at the screen, knowing he couldn’t see me, and slipped my fingers under the elastic edge of my panties and started to slowly rub myself. “He kept licking me and licking me… until I came… I came all over his face, Father.” There was a soft rhythmic sound behind the screen and I heard the old priest groan again. “Yes, child… please… tell me the rest…”

“Then he rolled on top of me,” I murmured, rubbing my clit a little faster.

The heat of my blush was nothing compared to the fire between my legs. I couldn’t ignore it anymore. “And I told him I wanted him. I wanted to feel him inside of me.”

“Did he… put it inside of you?”

“Yes.” I spread my legs wider as I touched myself. My nipples were hard under my blouse and I used my other hand to rub one through the material. “He was very gentle… it hurt at first… but then…. Oh, Father, it started to feel soooo good…”

“Did it?”

“Yes,” I breathed, closing my eyes and making fast circles around my clit.

“He was so big and hard inside of me, and he started moving in and out of me as I touched myself… I couldn’t help it, I started moving under him, too… it felt so good-he made my little pussy feel so good with that big cock, the way he fucked me harder and harder…”

I heard Father Michael’s gasp and that rhythmic sound was growing faster. “Oh Jesus… help us…”

“Yesss,” I whispered, feeling the memory of my first time deep in my pussy, and I knew I was going to come-right there in the confessional. “He fucked me so hard, Father, it was so wrong and so right and it felt so fucking good, we just couldn’t stop…”

I moaned, my pussy beginning to contract. “We both came together, at the same time, just… like… that…”

I bit my lip to keep from crying out as I started to come, my orgasm coming in waves of pure pleasure in the darkness. Behind the screen, Father Michael grunted and groaned, whispering the words, “Oh god, oh god” over and over.

Panting, ashamed and afraid now, I whispered, “Father?”

“Yes, my child.” He swallowed his words and cleared his throat. “Is that all?”

I nodded, closing my eyes and lifting my sticky fingers to my mouth and tasting myself. “Yes.”

“Let’s pray together.”

We did—and he gave me fifty Hail Mary’s and thirty Our Father’s—and that, as Erica always said, was that.