Lead Us Not Into Temptation

A/N: Well, since I've been having a blast writing Jalex, I thought I'd try another fic. This is story is very different in tone and setting from "Justin & Alex".

This is a very AU two-shot that was slightly inspired by "The Thorn Birds" and my own dogmatic Catholic background. It is the tale of a young parish priest named Father Russo and the secret desire he harbors for the widowed and very beautiful, Mrs. Alexandra Grayback, who is one of his parishioners.

Alex and Justin are not related in this story. And there will be no mention of magic or anything else that's supernatural. Lastly, the story takes place in the 1950's. Why? Because I wanted to try my hand at writing a period piece.

Fun Fact: By the way, St. Joseph's is a real church situated in the heart of Tribeca. It sits on Sixth Avenue between Washington and Waverly Place.

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of coitus and in flagrante delicto. Also depictions of a man of the cloth engaging in such acts. If you are overly religious and are offended by the topic, please stop reading this now.

Disclaimer: I don't own WoWP or its characters. Also, I don't own the plot or any of the ideas presented in Colleen McCullough's novel, "The Thorn Birds".

Chapter One

April 19, 1959- St. Joseph's Roman Catholic Church 2:30 PM

"Bless me father, for I have sinned..."

The Saturday afternoon confessions were well underway for the God-fearing parishioners of Father Justin Russo's flock. With attentive interest he listened to the hushed tones of those lost souls seeking absolution for their sins before they attended Sunday Mass the next morning. And he, through the power vested in him by the Holy Mother Church, would grant the faithful congregants of his parish forgiveness for their transgressions as long as they met the conditions of their penance, of course.

A Hail Mary here, a couple of Our Father's there and presto- chango, the slate was clean and good as new.

Earlier in the day, the young Jesuit had already heard the penitent confessions of the blue-haired set from Wednesday Night Bingo. These were the sweet grandmotherly types that constantly brought him homemade treats along with their timid admissions of telling white lies or cheating on a game of bridge or two. None these of ladies had really committed any major offenses against God or His Holy Church as far as Father Russo could tell. But he would still listen to their acts of contrition with infinite patience and understanding.

Shortly after one, the teeny-bopper crowd came in for their weekly absolution as well. This was the same gaggle of tittering of teenaged girls who every Sunday came in droves wearing their voluminous poodle skirts, with their plump lips painted red to sit front and center where they would moon over him as if he were Tony Curtis. Apparently, they were all enamored of him and his so-called matinee idol looks, much to the pious man's discomfort.

While he found their unsolicited attention at times to be flattering, Father Russo had to keep reminding himself that he was a man of God who could not entertain the notion of earthly pleasures, no matter how enticing they appeared to be.

Of course there were was always an exception to every golden rule, even this one. Father Russo found that out the hard way on the day he had hired a certain dark-eyed girl to be the parish secretary nearly three years ago. He should have been on his guard that day or perhaps the Holy Spirit should have better shielded his heart from the lust that began to germinate deep within him from the moment he laid eyes upon her face.

As one of the youngest priests in the Archdiocese of New York, he had already been warned by the church elders not to be swayed by the trappings of secular life. Things such as wine, women and song would only succeed in distracting him from his ecclesiastical mission and eventually condemn his soul to eternal damnation.

"Satan comes in many guises, my son," Archbishop Laritate had advised him on the very day he was appointed to St. Joseph's parish. "Always be vigilant and do not allow yourself to be lead astray by the Devil's trickery."

As the youthful rector recalled that day, he bitterly thought, the Archbishop has no idea just how right he was about that, except for one little detail...Satan is NOT a man, not even close.

But how could anyone have known that the good Shepard would find a black sheep amongst his flock- one that would systematically seduce him away from his godly duties? As a priest well versed in Holy Scripture, he should have seen the signs. Instead he allowed himself to be ensnared by the very thing he had vowed to repel from the moment he was ordained into the priesthood. And yet despite his every effort to turn away from evil, Father Russo was a man conflicted by the burden of guilt that weighed heavily upon his heart.

His loyalties were being called into question everyday and it was silently tearing him apart. On the one hand he lived to serve the Church and hoped to rise from within in its ranks. Still young and ambitious, he vied for a place at the Vatican as one of its cardinals one day.

Yet, precariously balanced on the other hand was his forbidden love for a raven-haired beauty with an angel's face and a body built for sin. He had fallen from grace many times over since the day she walked into his church and turned his life upside down.

Alexandra- her name alone evoked and awakened passions in Father Russo that he believed were long purged from his body. And as much as he tried to deny the truth, he loved the young war widow with every fiber of his being, just as much as he loved the Church. Perhaps he loved her more so - God help him.

But if he learned anything from the Bible's Holy Gospel it was this:

No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money. -Matthew 6:24

Of course St. Matthew, the Apostle was talking about the money changers of his time. But taken out of context, the same verse could be applied to Father Russo' current situation. His tortured heart told him that he couldn't continue to divide his devotion. He had to choose. It was either going to be the woman that had captured his heart or his faith in God that would finally win dominion over his very soul.

Father Russo shuddered to even think on such matters now, so he offered up a mea culpa and soldiered on through the rest of the confessions as quickly as he could so that he could spend the rest of day preparing tomorrow's homily.

OOO

April 19, 1959- St. Joseph's Roman Catholic Church 4:55 PM

Father Russo had just finished listening to what he thought would be the last confession of the day. As his right hand traced out the Sign of the Cross he offered his concluding benediction.

"God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

He followed that up with a stern command "to sin no more" after giving the unknown transgressor a stiff penalty of saying five Hail Mary's.

When Father Russo was certain that the penitent had departed from his midst, he said of prayer of thanks. After turning off the overhead light, the Jesuit carefully parted the bright crimson curtain that concealed him inside the confessional booth to peer out at the church's interior. To his relief the pews appeared empty as did the spaces reserved for lighting the votive candles.

Thank the Lord. My work here is done, Father Russo mentally acknowledged as his thoughts turned to other pressing matters needing his attention.

Emitting a tired groan, he raised himself up from the padded kneeler. But as he began to exit the small dark compartment, a sultry feminine voice suddenly filtered through the lattice screen behind him, halting his steps.

"Bless me father for I have sinned...it's been six weeks since my last confession and here are my sins."

He knew that voice. How could he not? Its tone and inflection were unmistakable. Just hearing her raspy whisper caused his male organ to stiffen and stir beneath his priestly vestments. Alarmed by his body's treacherous reaction to her siren's call, Father Russo closed his eyes and began to pray.

Oh no, it's her! It's Alexandra. And here I thought that I would be spared from this torment. I know I need to shun her. But while my spirit is willing ...my flesh is too weak to resist her. Please Lord...help me, deliver me from this evil so that I may not fall into temptation again.

OOO

When she received no answer to her plea for Divine Mercy, Alexandra Grayback became worried.

"Father Russo? Are you still there?" she hurriedly called out.

After a few beats she finally heard the clergyman's croaked-out reply from the other side of the grid, "Y-yes, my child? Do you w-w-wish to offer your c-confession?"

Reassured that she now had a captive audience, Alexandra smirked evilly as she cheekily replied, "You bet your sweet ass I do!"

"Alexandra!" a shocked Father Russo all but shrieked. "This is God's house, not some brothel or that dive bar you love to frequent. Please do try to remember that."

"My, aren't we touchy today? So what's got your Rosary beads all in a twist, Padre?" she sardonically inquired with a loud snort.

Panicked by her uncouth behavior and the raunchiness of her words, Father Russo roughly closed the curtain, before kneeling back down.

"As if you didn't know? You know exactly why I'm upset. And for Pete's sake, would you keep your voice down?" he angrily whispered into the partition separating him from the unrepentant woman on the other side.

"Why?" Alexandra, always the eternal rebel, fired back defiantly. "Why should I be quiet? You afraid someone might find out what a little hypocrite you are? It's too late for that, Justin- God already knows!"

Angered by the hidden truth behind her impudent words, the embattled priest suddenly slapped the palms of his hands on the screen in front of him. "You're in danger of blaspheming, so you mind your tone, Mrs. Grayback. And how dare you address me by my Christian name while I wear these robes?"

Unfazed by the display of Father Russo's volatile temper, the dark-haired temptress huskily suggested, "Well then, let's get you out of them so I can call you anything I want, like poindexter or better yet...lover."

Appalled yet slightly aroused by her forwardness and the outward disregard of proper churchly decorum, he murmured hopelessly, "You are shameless, woman!"

"I know...but you love me anyway, right?"

While he may have felt mortified by his answer, Father Russo uttered it anyway, "Yes, you know I do."

"Good!" Alexandra said with a hungry smile. "Now, why don't you meet me in the sacristy in five minutes so you can lecture me properly on just how 'shameless' I am."

OOO

Three Years Earlier...

Before she came to work at St. Joseph's as the rectory secretary where she ultimately became Father Justin Russo's own personal Jezebel, Alexandra Grayback had been happily married to Officer Mason Grayback, a British RAF wing commander on loan to the U.S. Air Force. She had just turned seventeen when they met at a USO dance. Charmed by his English accent and dry wit, she agreed to marry him just three months later, right before he was scheduled to ship off to fly in the 581st Air Resupply Group over Korean airspace.

Sadly, the young bride would never see her dashing young airman again. Mason's plane was shot down 4 weeks into his tour of duty on January 12, 1953 by enemy fire while delivering supplies to Suwon, a large city nestled in the southwestern section of the Korean peninsula. A rain of bullets had taken her husband's life and with it all hopes of a happy future together.

Left alone to make her way in the world, Alexandra had no family or friends to speak of, well except for Harper Beakerman, her best girlfriend since grade school. Thank goodness that Harper and her husband, Zeke had taken Alexandra in when her own husband didn't come back from the war. If it wasn't for them, Alexandra would have been on the street after Mason's Army pension ran out just six short months after his death. Sadly, it had taken three long years of grieving over the loss of Mason before the young widow had decided that it was high time to get a job.

Even though she was a lovable sloth, by her own admission, Alexandra could no longer stand being a burden on her friends. Besides there were only so many issues of Good Housekeeping magazine she could lazily skim through before being utterly bored out of her mind. Of course there was always her painting, her true passion. But her art was a difficult (not to mention expensive) hobby to keep. Especially when Zeke's meager earnings were already being stretched to its limits to feed and house three people instead of two.

At first, when Harper learned of her friend's plan, she wouldn't hear of it, insisting that what Alexandra was doing around the house was sufficient to earn her keep. But deep down inside both women knew that Alexandra was inherently lazy which made her a terrible housekeeper, an even worse cook and a piss-poor laundress.

Truthfully speaking, it didn't take much to convince the cheerful redhead that her best friend was probably better suited to work outside the home.

However, getting a job was easier said than done. Unfortunately, since she married straight out of high school, Alexandra had gained no real skills to earn a decent living. Not that she needed to at the time, since her only aspirations had been to be a wife and mother. But now at the ripe-old age of twenty, her fortunes had changed, leaving her no other options. It was either work or starve.

For weeks now she had scoured the classifieds and every inch of the city looking for a job that would pay a fair wage. Nothing fancy, just enough to help Harper and Zeke out with the household expenses and hopefully save up for her own place one day. But everywhere she went she was turned down flat because she was either "too young" or "too pretty".

Even when she applied for the waitress' position at that greasy spoon known as the Waverly Diner, she was told by Hank Russo, the owner, "Sorry, doll-face. But I can't have a cream-puff like you distractin' the help. Besides, the missus would wring my neck if I hire you. She'd be worried that I'd put the moves on ya. Not that I would or anything."

"That's okay, I understand," Alexandra said sadly as she started to walk away.

Suddenly feeling sorry for the girl, Hank stopped her from going when he yelled out, "Wait!"

Turning back around the young widow smiled as she asked brightly, " Did you change your mind?"

"Not exactly. But I think I know somebody that might hire you. It doesn't pay much. But the hours are good and the people are nice."

"What's the job? You know what, don't tell me. I don't care, 'cause I'll take anything at this point," Alexandra giddily told Mr. Russo.

"Wait a minute, cool your jets, girly. I have to ask you somethin' first," Hank pointedly said as he crossed his arms in front his clean white apron.

"What is it?"

"Are you a good Catholic?"

With a devilish little grin that made women want to hide their babies while grown men trembled, Alexandra replied, "Define 'good'..."

OOO

The very next day, at eight o'clock sharp, Mrs. Alexandra Grayback found herself knocking on the massive mahogany door of St. Joseph's rectory. Wanting to make a good first impression, she had decided that morning to wear her best charcoal-colored pencil skirt and matching tailored jacket. The latter garment was slipped on over a crisp white cotton blouse with tiny pearl buttons down the front of it.

Harper had even let her borrow a new pair of smart looking patent leather pumps that gave the petite brunette some height. But the tight closed-toe shoes made her feet hurt like the dickens, especially since she had to walk nearly ten city blocks just to get here. She would have taken the subway, but right now she didn't have two nickels to rub together to buy her a token.

As she impatiently waited for someone to open the door, Alexandra nervously fiddled with the black velvet beret adorning the top of her head. Before she left the Beakerman's tiny apartment, she had performed a quick inspection of her ensemble in the cracked mirror by the hall and thought she didn't look half-bad. The whimsical chapeau appeared to go well with the soft, curly style of her hair.

However, faced with the cold hard discernment of exactly where she was standing, the young war widow began to second guess her choice.

Maybe I should have worn the pillbox hat instead...

However, Alexandra quickly dismissed the afterthought when she came to the realization that she'd been made to wait for God knows how long. Feeling agitated and bored out of her skull, Alexandra began to hum a few bars of Elvis Presley's Heartbreak Hotel to pass the time, when the door was abruptly swung open from the other side.

And that's when she got her first glimpse of her potential employer. Standing in the doorway was the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life. As her eyes drank in the handsome visage, she took into account the thick head of jet black hair that was neatly combed with a healthy dose of Vitalis hair tonic and then parted to one side.

Next, she couldn't help but notice the set of brilliant gray-green eyes that curiously stared back at her. She had never seen eyes that color before, which reminded her of the vast fathomless waters of the North Atlantic. Nevertheless, Alexandra was immediately entranced by them.

The rest of his features were just as striking- there was the prominent patrician nose and the slightly swarthy complexion that hinted of a Mediterranean ancestry, mostly likely Italian in origin. Meanwhile, his strong jaw line and thin mouth asserted his inherent masculinity which spoke directly to Alexandra's primal female urges.

She wanted him in that instant. That much she knew. And Lord only knows she'd had one hell of a dry spell lately and was due some serious relief. Widowhood was a lonely place that made her long for companionship and a warm body to cling to at night.

OOO

While her deceased husband was by no means a Casanova, he had been sweet and considerate of her needs, especially that first time when he took her innocence. They had just started exploring their sexual potential as a married couple when their time was cut short by Mason's untimely death.

Yet, after she observed the proper grieving period, Alexandra discovered that she was still a woman with wants and needs. Thankfully, once she was ready to venture out into the dating world again, she never lacked for male company. She'd had countless of movie dates, invitations to dinner and even the occasional romantic stroll through Central Park. But out of all of the suitors that vied for her affections, only two other men, besides her husband, had shared her bed.

Looking back she remembered that both encounters had been brief and most importantly discrete. After all she was widowed woman now and unlike a divorcee, she still had to guard her good reputation. Not that she gave a fig what people thought of her, she was mostly concerned for the good people that had taken her in. The last thing Mr. and Mrs. Zeke Beakerman needed was a so-called "loose" woman under their roof.

The first contender she had deemed worthy to sample "the goods" had been that brainless twit Riley. Alexandra had met the broad-shouldered ex-jock purely by accident when they had both reached for the same carton of chocolate milk at the local A & P . Initially impressed by his height and athletic good looks, she gave him a go. But after a couple of dates the guy turned out to be a real dullard who had absolutely no clue on how to please a woman even if his life depended on it. So she did what any sensible woman would do - she dropped him like a hot potato before he could make her swear off the male gender altogether.

Not willing to give up just yet, Alexandra gave herself some time to put that disaterous encounter behind her before trying again. Her second attempt at carnal satisfaction came in the form of a cocky grease-monkey named Dean Moriarty. Dean happened to own the garage right around the corner from the Beakerman's apartment building. Once again their meeting was a happenstance of convenient proximity. Right from the start, his blue-collar charm with its extra helping of Marlon Brando-esque swagger had quickly worked its magic on the young woman . And when she found out that he actually drove the motorcycle that went with all that tough-guy bravado, she was just dying to screw him.

However, when they finally tumbled into bed together late one night in his shabby apartment above his garage, Alexandra quickly learned the meaning of bitter disappointment. Rough and impatient, he'd used his dirty calloused hands all over her nubile body like a pair of wrenches. Adding insult to injury, the uncouth car mechanic had lasted all of three minutes in the sack.

Left terribly unsatisfied and still wanting, Alexandra resolved never to subject herself to anything remotely resembling those two horrendous experiences ever again. By God, the next time she spread her legs it wouldn't be for just anyone. The guy had to be more than special, for one thing. But most importantly, Alexandra wanted to do the seducing and call the shots.

The repressive society of the mid-1950's might have been scandalized over something so unheard of. Yet as far as Alexandra Grayback was concerned, it was pretty progressive thinking on her part.

OOO

And now as she set her sights on the sexiest man she had seen in a long, long while, she'd already made up her mind to use her feminine wiles to have her wicked way with him. But just as she was about to put the whammy on the tall, dark stranger with a bewitching smile, she suddenly saw something that stopped her cold. There peaking out from the neckline of the black cotton button up shirt he was currently wearing was a little square of white that alerted the would-be seductress of his true vocation.

That's a clerical collar! Holy Mackerel, this dreamboat is a fucking priest?

Alex was indeed bowled over by the unexpected development. Yesterday, when Hank had informed her of his distant relative, Father Russo, she had imagined a saintly looking older gentleman that smelled of both sacramental wine and pungent incense, not the hunk of Grade-A prime beef standing before her now. Needless to say she was slightly taken aback, but by no means deterred. Priest or not, she was still aimed to have him. It was just going to be more of a challenge to get her way. But that was A-OK in her book since she's never backed away from a challenge in her life.

And so it was after that first initial meeting between sinner and saint that Alexandra Grayback began her single-minded campaign to corrupt the young parish priest and claim him for her very own.

However, the conquest had not been an easy one considering Father Russo's deeply rooted faith in Roman Catholic doctrine and the codes of canon law he had sworn to uphold above all else. She had had her work cut out for her that was for certain.

It took a burdensome six months and the better part of her meager salary to supplement her wardrobe with low cut silk blouses, tight sweaters and curve-hugging dresses (that nearly cut off her circulation) to even get the do-gooder cleric to notice her. So far his interactions with Alexandra had been conducted with complete professionalism and with the utmost courtesy - never once had he complimented or admonished her on her state of dress- all of which she found to be downright nauseating.

Aside from the customary pleasantries, giving her occasional instructions to perform menial tasks around the office or even asking Alexandra to take dictation for the weekly epistle that would be addressed to the Archbishop, the clergyman took no notice of the smoldering sex pot trying desperately to garner his undivided attention.

He'd just smile like a simpleton, bid her a good morning or afternoon, and then would go about his day to do whatever it was that priest were supposed do.

Alexandra, was beside herself. She just didn't get it.

Geeze-Louise, it's like dealing with a butler or an overly-polite eunuch! Okay, so the guy's a priest. Big deal. It wasn't like his pecker fell off the minute he took his vows or anything, Alexandra had thought in her growing frustration. I mean, he's still a man underneath that black wool cassock, right?

Despite her lack of progress in getting under Father Russo's skin, there had been one definitive factor in her favor. Thanks to Alexandra's rather prickly anti-establishment stance, the highly intuitive rector had more than an inkling that his new secretary didn't exactly subscribe to his beliefs. And while it was his primary function to continually evangelize non-believers, the Jesuit never once tried to push his religion down her throat.

Nevertheless, she still found his glacial aloofness maddening and it only strengthened her resolve to melt that icy exterior once and for all. Proclaiming all out war on the holy institution that had its hooks into the object of her lust, Alexandra pulled out all the stops by making her advances more overt and brazen until her obtuse little priest finally got the message loud and clear.

Even so, it had taken yet another six months of strategically dropping pencils, pens and papers, "accidentally" rubbing up against him and even bending over her desk in just the right way to finally draw those dreamy eyes of his to her round little ass- like a magnet to steel.

Yet, in spite of all of her teasing and the devilish delight she experienced at tormenting the poor man of the cloth, it was during this time that Alexandra came to a startling realization about her own feelings. Quite unexpectedly, what had started out as a bawdy game of cat and mouse had slowly developed into genuine affection.

Simply put, Alexandra had fallen deeply in love with him.

And once that happened, a sense of true panic set in prompting her to quickly turned the tables on Father Russo. Her behavior made complete one-eighty to Father Russo's bewilderment. It was as if she had suddenly turned the tap from hot to cold by playing dumb and hard-to-get. Shockingly,she was now the one that avoided his eyes and spoke only when spoken to. No longer did she follow his every move with her hungry gaze or find some silly pretense to find herself alone with him.

Whether her new found ennui was part of her seductive strategy or had actually sprung from fear of her strong feelings for the man, Alexandra did not know. In any event, she kept up her sudden lackadaisical attitude for an undetermined amount of time, pretending all the while not to notice how badly her indifference had started to affect him.

OOO

Alexandra's conflicting messages were indeed wrecking havoc with Father Russo's emotional state. The usually well-versed and extremely prepared priest had begun to miss important appointments. Moreover, he had ceased to sleep or eat at regular intervals, judging from the dark circles under his eyes and the gaunt appearance of his hallowed out face.

Entire passages of critical sacramental rites would simply slip his mind-a malady that had been woefully apparent when he had all but muddled through the previous month's baptisms and confirmations. Needless to say, the incidents had been both embarrassing and daunting for Father Russo, so he turned to prayer in his hour of need. Spending hours locked away in seclusion, he had begged and pleaded with his God to liberate him from the conflict raging within his heart.

Sadly, his appeals had gone unanswered as undesirable lust spread throughout his body like some virulent disease. And it was all due to the bewitching girl he had stupidly placed under his employ - a girl that from day-one had purposefully and willfully endeavored to topple him from his sanctified pulpit.

He should have fired her when he finally caught onto her game. But by then, it had been too late. Alexandra had already wormed her way into every aspect of Father Russo's life because he had allowed it to happen. Besieged at every turn, his waking hours were filled with thoughts of her as he often wondered what her ruby-red lips would taste like or how her black silky hair would feel like between his fingers.

But it was at night, when he was at his most vulnerable, that he would be plagued by dreams that were so vividly erotic, that he would always wake up in a cold sweat only to find his manhood hard and throbbing. Alone and desolate on his tiny cot, time stretched on into the night as Father Russo would agonize over the betrayal of his mortal body. Yet, as much as he struggled against the forces of darkness that threatened to tear his soul apart, he would always succumb under the weight of immorality.

"Please forgive me." The same pitiful plea would fall from his lips every time as he felt his resolve slipping further and further away.

Mournfully, Father Russo would turn his eyes away from the crucifix that served as a painful reminder of his calling. Then he would begin the profane ritual to relieve himself of the shameful burden aching between his legs. Soon, sighs and moans would reverberate off the bare walls of his sparsely furnished room as his hand steadily stroked the swollen flesh of his member.

"Oh, God!" he would blaspheme with a wretched groan as rage and hate flooded his soul - rage for the one that had brought him to such a lowly state and hate for his utter lack of self-control. However, his expressions of pain and joy were prolonged by the pleasure he felt and increased in volume.

Soon, Father Russo's sweat drenched body would tense up like the taut string of an archer's bow as his fingers continued to work in a frenetic tempo- quick, quick, quick. Clenching his jaw, he pushed himself closer and closer to the brink with every ragged breath he took as the tendons in his neck bunched under the strain.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of sweet torment, he sensed the familiar tightening in his balls that always heralded his hard-earned climax. Next, in an involuntary motion, his narrow hips and aching back would suddenly vault up from the mattress as his white hot sticky release would erupt all over his hand and stomach. And just like in previous instances of sheer bliss, Alexandra's name would always be expunged from his trembling lips like some dark, terrible secret.

Afterward, as passions cooled and senses were regained, Father Russo would weep like a motherless babe as ignominy and guilt took turns to rebuke his sinful actions.

Doubts would then quickly set in regarding his chosen vocation, calling into question his commitment to the Church. How could he carry on with his priestly duties or continue to preach to the congregation about the virtues of purity and abstinence when he had failed to uphold his own vow of chastity?

And how could he face his parishioners, who looked to him for spiritual guidance, when he secretly coveted the very thing that had brought about the downfall of Man and his eternal expulsion from paradise - a woman?

Adding to his worries were the gossipy whispers that had floated on the wind as everyone wondered what had transformed the vibrantly youthful pastor into a shell of his former self.

Loose tongues had wagged for months with endless hearsay tinged by scandal. Even Reverend Mother Theresa, who was the headmistress of the small parochial school attached to St. Joseph's parish, had gotten wind of the swirling rumors surrounding Father Russo and the supposed reasons behind his declining health.

Could the parish secretary be to be blame, the gossip-mongers had surely wondered. Didn't they all know that bearing false witness against your fellow man was a sin? Perhaps not, since Father Russo could still see judgment and suspicion whenever they cut their accusatory eyes at Alexandra. Their obvious disdain for her would greatly anger him, though he knew had no right to feel as such.

Why then did the priest feel so protective of her? Why did he hold this godless little sinner, who cursed like a sailor and could drink men twice her size under the table, in such high regard? Didn't the Bible teach him that he should treat all of God's children with equal esteem? What made her so worthy then of his special attention and his most furtive desires?

Then the answer had come to him as easily as drawing breath into his lungs: he loved her. It was as simple as that.

OOO

As for Alexandra, she had known that one day soon her little game of hot and cold would reap a bitter harvest. It was one thing to be benignly Machiavellian when she regularly manipulated others to do her bidding. However, it was a completely different story if someone was actually harmed in some emotional or physical way because of her deviousness.

She may have been a bit on the naughty side with two generous dashes of wicked, for good measure. But Alexandra would never intentionally harm another human being for her own benefit. Nevertheless, she was very afraid she had done just that in her pursuit of her benevolent employer. Father Russo's dramatic weight loss, withdrawn demeanor and the ever increasing speculation of their unique "friendship" were all signs of the evil she had wrought.

Deep down she knew that if she had any decency left, she should have quit her job a long time ago and left the poor man alone so he could find his way back to his faith. But the very thought of not seeing him ever again plunged a knife deep into her heart. So she stubbornly chose to stay, even though she was aware that her very presence was the cause of his anguish.

Day after day, Alexandra would endure the slings and arrows others had thrown her way. Opinions, good or bad, were like assholes - everybody had one. And they mattered little to her.

But when she would see Father Russo stoically suffer through the indignity of being crushed by the rumor mill, her heart would bleed for him. His pain was her fault. And yet when his eyes reflected a deeply harbored longing every time he looked at her, Alexandra felt a renewed spark of hope. The man she loved so desperately also yearned to consummate their forbidden passion.

Painfully aware of the restrictions placed upon him by his accursed circumstances, she watched helplessly as he grappled with his desires. After all, he was still a man underneath that tunic he wore- just another flawed human being susceptible to the same weaknesses and temptations like any other. Repression and denial could only be sustained for so long before the tinderbox that she and Father Russo were precariously sitting upon would mightily explode.

It would only be a matter of time before his tenacity finally would fail. The day of reckoning was coming...Alexandra could sense it all around her.

True enough, it all came to head on one blustery October afternoon when Father Russo suddenly burst into the small rectory office. As he closed and then bolted the door behind him, Alexandra jumped a little in her seat. She had obviously been startled by the abruptness of her boss' entrance.

Swiftly, she shifted her gaze from the letter she had been attempting to bang out on the typewriter for the umpteenth time. Since she wasn't the best typist or the fastest, she made many mistakes that constantly needed correction or in this case a complete do-over.

Seated primly behind her desk, her brow furrowed in confusion as she asked, "Are you okay, Padre?" She always used the Spanish word for "father" when addressing her employer. She preferred using it rather than call him by his proper title.

Thank goodness she had learned some of that español lingo from her Mexican-born grandmother, otherwise she'd have to call him other things like "nerd" or "dork". Both epithets would be fitting alternatives, since she was probably the only person in the world who knew that the good priest hid a secret stash of Superman and Captain Jim Bob Sherwood comic books in his room. She had come upon them one day when she went snooping through his things.

Now, as he stalked right up to her with purposeful intent, she observed how the folds of his black vestments swayed to and fro, as her ears keenly discerned how the ebony and silver beads of his Rosary clacked together with every determined step he took.

When her concerned eyes fell upon the fierce expression etched upon his face, Alexandra gasped in awe.

As he loomed ever closer, his unkempt appearance became painfully apparent. With his dark hair frazzled and his cheeks heavily laden with three-day's worth of coarse facial stubble, he looked more like a madman instead of priest. But what was most worrisome were the dark circles and bloodshot eyes. It was quite obvious that Father Russo wasn't sleeping properly.

"J-Justin?" Alexandra had dared to speak his given name for the first time ever. Foolishly, she had hoped that its utterance would somehow give him pause and keep him from committing an act he would later regret.

To her dismay however, he either didn't hear her or chose to ignore the veiled warning. In any event, he refused to answer her as he kept coming toward Alexandra, like a charging rhinoceros. Soon, he had made it all the way across the room only to stand directly in front of the alarmed clerical worker who was cowering in her chair.

Is he here to give me the boot, she wondered worriedly as she looked at the man hovering above her.

Despite her anxieties at the prospect of losing her steady income, she knew that it would be a smart move if he did fire her. What better way would there have been to finally shut up those busy-bodies spreading rumors about the two of them?

Besides, Father Russo would probably be better off if he did get rid of me before word of my existence gets back to that fuddy-duddy Archbishop.

However, before she could even say another word in her defense or otherwise, her soon-to-be ex-boss suddenly reached out with both hands, grabbed her up by the forearms to roughly pull her to him.

As her body was forcibly yanked from her chair, she was stricken with fear. Her heart fluttered madly as she struggled to get away from his cruel grasp. However, the minute she inadvertanly glanced up at him, she was instantly transfixed by irrefutable lust burning brightly within the gray-green irises of Father Russo's distinctive eyes. Alexandra tried to turn away from so much intensity, but his fixed gaze would not retreat or relent in any way. The smoldering stare held her captive, never wavering, not even for an instant. And while she remained trapped within his powerful arms, Alexandra could feel herself shudder uncontrollably as his rapacious eyes roved over her features.

"Why?" he suddenly bellowed to the wanton creature that had methodically conspired to drive him to want to break his vows and discard his virtue. His voice was a strangled rasp filled desperation and despair.

Being this close to him, Alexandra could tell that he had been drinking, a lot. The smell of whiskey on his breath was still strong. The pungent odor immediately reminded her of the many nights she had spent finding comfort at the bottom of a bottle right after Mason had died.

Presently, in spite of Father Russo's drunken state and her own lingering fear, she still reveled in his closeness. Alexandra found herself sighing with longing when his hold on her tightened. His strength astounded her while the feel of his big, manly hands enticed and aroused her against her will. She couldn't help how she felt. How could she when the warmth of his body was slowly seeping into hers? There was no stopping the thrill that made her senses come to life.

Still, she had the presence of mind to be somewhat wary of her feelings since she was confused by his earlier query. Clarification was in order, so she cautiously ventured to seek it. "I don't understand..." Alexandra tentatively began.

Unnerved by the sound of her voice, Father Russo continued to glare at her as his handsome face twisted into an expression of pure anguish. Shockingly for both of them, a single tear-drop rolled down his unshaven cheek.

"Why did you do this?" he asked again.

When she did not answer him, the man of God suddenly shouted to the heavens, "You could have set your sights on anybody else, Alexandra! ANYBODY but me!"

"Don't yell at me, please," she pleaded with him as hot, wet tears of her own filled her brown eyes. It had become evident that not only was he stinking drunk, he was also very, very angry. And Alexandra knew better than most that booze and a hot-blooded temper were usually a dangerous combination - like trying to put out a fire with gasoline.

"Answer the question, dammit! So what is it, Mrs. Grayback? Do you like getting your kicks teasing priests? Is that how you get your jollies?" Father Russo snarled at the woman at the center of all his troubles. "Maybe you've trolled other churches, preying on unsuspecting clergymen, like some modern-day Delilah, right?"

Alexandra flinched upon hearing his venomous words. Her tearful eyes became as wide as saucers as she continued to be subjected to Father Russo's ridiculous insinuations. "No, of course not!" she adamantly refuted. "I don't know what you're yakking about."

"Oh, really?" he furiously lobbed back at her. "Maybe I'm not the first one you've driven insane with that body of yours?" as he said this, red bleary eyes raked over every inch of her womanly curves.

Tears kept running down her face as she cruelly lashed out, "Took you long enough to notice! I was beginning to think you were a fruitcake or something!"

"I wasn't supposed to notice you- not now, not ever! I am priest, Alexandra! And I've sworn my life to serve God and the Church of Rome. But that means nothing to you because you don't care about things like faith and sacred duty! Some Catholic you are. You don't even attend Mass."

"And that's another thing, you might be the worst secretary ever! Your filing system is incomprehensible, your typing skills are a joke and you spend more time gabbing on the telephone with your friend, Harper than doing your job! I don't even know why I've kept you on this long."

Alexandra didn't know what had suddenly possessed her. Perhaps it was the outrage she felt at being labeled a whore and a lazy employee by some priest who couldn't lay off the sauce long enough to have a decent conversation. Whatever it was, it had compelled her to slap him soundly on the cheek.

When he felt the sting from the palm of her hand land across his face, Father Russo relinquished his hold on his secretary to attend to the reddening mark on his cheek.

After she had delivered the blow, Alexandra's tears had started to flow more freely as she stared at the priest with disbelief.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You think because you pray to some statue and kiss the ass of some invisible God that you're somehow better than me? You know what, Padre? I'll save you the trouble of firing me because I QUIT!"

Enraged beyond belief, she reached down to retrieve her purse with trembling fingers. She then scooted around the other side of her desk to avoid any further contact the man that had just humiliated her. Wiping her eyes with the back of hand, she took a deep breath before she proceeded to march herself toward the office door with her head held high. But just as she was about to place a hand on the ornate doorknob, she suddenly felt the weight of another body flush against her back.

A sense of panic took hold as a pair of strong masculine arms encircle themselves around her tiny waist, Alexandra gasped with surprise as she began to fight against her assailant.

"Let me go, you big creep!" she demanded as her body wriggled like a worm on a hook in an effort to escape. Unforunately, the hold on her was unyielding, effectively trapping her against the door she was facing. Then the struggle soon came to halt, when she felt the moist roughness of Father Russo's stubble graze the side of her face. With her heart hammering away inside her chest, Alexandra closed her eyes as she waited breathlessly for him to explain his unanticipated actions.

"Don't leave..." he begged her with a pitiful sob that cracked his voice.

His plea sounded so ardent, so desperate that it immediately tugged at her heart as the words echoed inside her ear. And yet an inexplicable terror tore through Alexandra which kept her rooted where she was, unable to move, eyes front as she trembled from head to toe.

"Why should I stay?" she finally dared to ask after moments of deafening silence. Afterward she licked her dry lips as she waited with bated breath for the answer.

The reply came soon enough when the beleagured priest hotly whispered in her ear, "Because I need you."

Her eyes fluttered closed once again as the earnest response made her body shudder with relief.

But Father Russo was far from done as he continued to astonish Alexandra with his heartfelt words, "Because without you, Alexandra I'm nothing but a set of memorized prayers, rituals and centuries-old doctrines. Those thing are merely the symbols of my faith. But you are so much more to me. And as much as I've tried to deny it, there's no escaping the truth. You've become the living, breathing embodiment of my heart. So you can't leave because I can't live without my heart."

Moved the sincerity of his impassioned revelations, Alexandra Grayback slowly turned around to face the man that had spoken them.

When their gazes met at last on an equal playing field, she cleared her throat before she asked, "What about all the stuff you said before about me being some tramp and a bad secretary?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I was just conflicted...maybe I still am. All I know is that I have all these feelings for you. But I don't know what to do about them," Father Russo admitted as he ran his fingers through his uncombed hair.

"Maybe I can help," Alexandra shyly offered as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She then reached up, placed a hand at the back of his neck and pulled him to her.

"Ever kiss a girl, Padre?" She smiled when she noticed how he gulped as his watery eyes searched hers.

"Y-Yeah, once when I was sixteen. Her name was Miranda I-I think," the clearly nervous priest tried to recall. " It was my first kiss. I didn't know what I was doing and it turned out pretty awful."

That particular bit of news only made Alexandra's smile even broader as she boldly proclaimed, "Oh yeah? Well, pucker up, big boy...I'm about to rock your socks off!"

OOO

Before Father Russo could even object, Alexandra swiftly smashed her plump red lips up against his. Instantly, he felt dizzy and lightheaded. And he didn't know if it was a direct result of the alcohol he had imbibed or the hot wet kisses slowly setting his body on fire. Maybe it was a combination of both. All he knew was that from the moment their mouths had touched, the contact had been absolutely electrifying. And he instantly fell in love with the sensation of having her kiss him senseless.

However, Father Russo had more than an inkling that he was returning her ardor rather sloppily, no surprise, since he was severely lacking in this area. Although he felt slightly self-conscious about it, he still had the presence of mind to follow Alexandra's lead and imitate her practiced kissing technique until he became very well-versed in the subject.

So with eyes closed and lips opened, he forged ahead. When their tongues entwined, he groaned in appreciation as all good sense left him and primal instinct took over. All he knew or wanted know at that moment was the taste of her.

But it wasn't enough. He had to feel her too.

Did he dare expose her naked quivering flesh and touch what was once forbidden to him? He was already in the thick of it, up to his neck aned wading in sin. As the old proverb goes: in for a penny, in for a pound, so there was no turning back now.

Virginal though he was, he allowed his desire to guide his shaking hands to map out the newly discovered terrain of Alexandra's body. His fingers caressed the sides of her face and neck as his hungry mouth continued to feast on hers. Father Russo's long, tapered fingers carried on their downward path until they reached the mounds of her breasts. Hesitation halted his actions for a fleeting moment. But he found his confidence again when Alexandra tore her mouth away to egg him on.

"Touch me, for fuck's sake!" she breathlessly pleaded.

And it was all the encouragement he needed to greedily cup the cloth covered breasts in the large palms of his eager hands while his lips sealed themselves over her filth spewing mouth. Usually, he would have admonished her for her cursing and insisted she put a quarter in the office swear jar. But in the current context of things, he found her use of profanity to be just as intoxicating as the fifth of Irish whiskey he'd purchased earlier that day.

Not wanting to be outdone, Alexandra gave as good as she got when her small hand snaked down to the lower half of his vestments to grab onto the hardness that was tenting the robe.

As she started to rub and stroke the concealed erection, Father Russo moaned into her mouth, clearly enjoying the pleasure she was giving him.

Then suddenly, in a fit of unbridled passion, he pushed her against the door as his mouth attached itself to Alexandra's exposed neck. Inexperience did not deter him from licking and sucking her skin as his hands continued their exploration of her body. He had never touched another human being in such a spontaneous manner before. Yet, he reveled in the instinctive way his body knew how to please hers.

Once again however, his conscience and his intellect were at odds over what was happening. Even as he gave himself over to passion, Father Russo's spiritual side demanded grounds by which to justify the devastating tidal wave of lust that was sweeping away everything he had ever known. Therefore, he looked to the Holy Scriptures themselves for the answer.

God Himself, at the onset of Creation, encoded all human beings with these very same drives so that they could carry out one His very first commandments, he reasoned as he felt Alexandra's tongue trace the shell of his ear. She was driving him wild and he knew that soon he would lose his resolve to reconcile mind and body.

Did He not decree in Genesis 1:28 to be fruitful and multiply, the learned priest further rationalized. It would stand to reason then that the Almighty not only equipped His human creations with the ability and the means to fulfill His prime directive but the desire to do so as well. If that is the case, then such a thing cannot be evil as the Church has made it out to be. Especially if there is love behind these feelings...

Soon all lucid thought fled from his analytical brain as he and Alexandra continued to savage one another. Masculine and feminine fingers struggled and fumbled with layer after layer of cumbersome clothing while lips and tongues continually co-mingled. Piece by piece, their garments were carelessly divested from one another until the were as naked as the day they were born.

When Father Russo got his first glimpse of Alexandra's nude form he was awestruck by its perfection. Not a scar or blemish marred the smooth skin, every inch of her was flawless in every way. Her breasts, adorned with dusky erect nipples, were modest in size yet firm and set high upon her chest. And as his eyes moved further down he took the time to admire the flat plane of her stomach, the slight flare of her hips and then he zeroed in on the small patch of hair that rested at the juncture between her smooth thighs. Her calves were well-formed and pleasing to the eyes as were her dainty feet with their painted over toenails.

"You're so beautiful," Father Russo whispered reverently as he pulled her to him once more.

"Thank you," Alexandra whispered back while she appreciatively gazed back at him. "You're not so bad yourself. Who knew you were hiding such chiseled body underneath those robes? And as for Mr. Winkey...YOWZA! "

Her off-the-cuff comments regarding his fit physique and the manhood that now stood proud and erect between them made him blush profusely. No one had ever complimented him in such a manner before. But he found that he liked the praise, especially coming from her.

But as he continued to hold Alexandra in his arms, Father Russo suddenly became very nervous and unsure about what was going to happen next.

"So what now?" he timidly asked as he gaze turned away from her inquisitive eyes.

Alexandra smiled wickedly just then as she garishly replied, "We fuck each other's brains out. That's what!"

And that's exactly what he was afraid of. "Uh, Alexandra..." Father Russo croaked out in shame and embarrassment as his cheeks grew hotter and redder.

Her smile faltered somewhat when she saw his unease. "What's the matter, Padre? Don't tell me you're having second thoughts?"

"No, no...it's nothing like that. I still want you. God, you have no idea how much! It's just I-I've never done this b-before and..."

Placing a reassuring hand on the side of his face, Alexandra tried to alleviate his fears. "Hush, baby. Let mama take care of everything. I promise to make it good for the both of us," she whispered huskily.

Then she quickly dropped to her knees in front of him, gripped the sides of his narrow hips then proceeded to worship the only god she would ever need when she took the weeping tip of his cock into her skilled mouth.

As she began to suck and kiss the hardened phallus, the astonished priest's eyes immediatley rolled into the back of his head as he exclaimed, "Oh, dear merciful God in Heaven!"

And thus began the deflowering and eventual corruption of Father Justin Vincenzo Pepe Russo.

TBC...

A/N: Well, that's the first of only two chapters. I know that some of you may find this piece a bit weird and quirky or even OOC because of the "no magic" factor. But I've wanted to get this story out of my head for a long time. Your opinions do matter, so please let me know if I should continue with the second half or scrap this altogether.