Authored by HoboJuice

Some people can snap awake at the slightest of sounds, instantly alert and aware of their surroundings. They’re like sleeping cobras, coiled and ready for action – fully functioning and annoyingly coherent. It’s terribly unnatural and to be honest I find it somewhat disturbing. I hate them.

I’m not one of those people. I prefer to drift lazily to consciousness and savor those moments halfway between sleep and reality. You know what I mean. That fuzzy and indistinct time where all of life’s problems are less real than whatever dreams you just had. When your only real goal is to fall to back to sleep. I think I once lost a whole year like that.

This was one of those mornings. It took me over an hour to roust myself out of bed and remember who I was. When I finally opened my eyes I saw an apartment that looked far dingier in the daylight than it did the previous night. Judging by the clothes leading from the door to the bed, I hadn’t taken the time to appreciate the décor anyway.

I needed coffee and another hour to try and put together whatever the hell happened last night and where I was – but first things first. I padded over to the bathroom and took my morning piss. Apparently I had drunk gallons the previous night. While I did my best to overflow the pale pink toilet, I checked out her medicine cabinet. Good news – birth control pills and no Valtrex.

After washing up I stared in the mirror. I was Renaldo DiSantiago, the eldest son of the city’s greatest philanthropist. The good son who gave up his family’s fabulous fortune to help the needy and spread God’s word. The schmuck who joined the priesthood and swore off just about everything fun in life. The priest who just fucked a stranger whose name he couldn’t remember.

I left the sanctuary of the small (yet surprisingly clean) bathroom and gathered up my clothes. As I put them on, I tried to catch a glimpse of the apartment owner. I thought I saw a bit of blonde hair peeking out from under the sheets she had decided to hibernate in, but that was it. Hopefully she was attractive – not that it mattered. What was done was done. Still, it bothered me not to know what she looked like. I like to think I have a good eye for finding a pretty face.

Thankfully there was coffee in the kitchen. I briefly considered slipping out, but it just seemed rude. Besides – free coffee. As it brewed, I occupied myself by snooping around her apartment. In no time I had managed to find out all sorts of things about Jessica (her name, by the way, gained from numerous credit card bills). More importantly, however, were the facts that she looks good in a bikini and has several friends that also look good in a bikini. That photo may have made it into my pocket.

When I was on my second cup of coffee, Jessica finally crawled out of bed. She was obviously in bad shape and based on the sounds coming from the bathroom, she had had far too much to drink. That probably explained why she would drag a priest home with her and want him to do things to her that caused two cities to be struck down in the book of Genesis.

She finally emerged after a lengthy shower that she apparently was hoping would wash away the sins of the previous evening. Or maybe she just got vomit in hair. Regardless, when she finally emerged she looked like she was almost ready to join the living.

I handed her a cup of java and smiled, “G’morning.”

She managed a reciprocal grunt between sips, but seemed content to let the conversation die.
Being a pleasant conversationalist, I powered forward. “Helluva night, last night, huh?”

She squinted back at me over the lip of her mug, obviously trying to recall details that were escaping her. I would have felt sorry for her if she’d shown even a hint of discomfort, but she was handling the situation like it was old hat. Like a real pro.

Hoping I wasn’t going to have to pay her, I continued on with the one sided conversation, “You probably remember this, but my name’s Renaldo.” There was no way she remembered my name.

She remained silent, but nodded.

“I don’t usually do this,” I lied. “But I guess things got pretty crazy down at Vesper’s last night.”

“My name’s Jessie,” she interrupted. “And I’m not usually like this... Not so, ummm… easy.”

Great, we were both liars.

“Me either,” I said with feigned sympathy. “But hey – I don’t regret anything. You were fantastic… I think.” I chucked at my little joke and gave her a bashful look.

She managed a blush and laughed with me. I was glad that I hadn’t lost my touch. I was worried that the collar had diminished my skills with the ladies. Well, I doubt Jessica could be considered a lady, but close enough.

“Yeah,” she stammered, “it was… fun. I had a good time.”

Jesus Christ she had a gift for understatement. A good time? Try a fucking amazing time. I did things to her that hadn’t been done this century. That girl was ruined for all other men – she just didn’t know it.

I was suddenly tired of making small talk with her and playing the coy little game. “Well, I guess I better go,” I said. “I should probably get back to the church.”

“The church?” She seemed confused.

Oh, this might be fun. She really didn’t remember.

I added the priest’s collar to my black shirt and grinned, “Oh, I wasn’t asking you to call me Daddy last night. I wanted you to call me… Father.”

“Oh shit,” she muttered.

“Yeah… we’re probably both going to hell for last night,” I continued as I opened her front door.

I stopped and gave her the filthiest, most suggestive look I could manage, the innuendo dripping from my voice, “Unless, of course, you come and confess all your sins this evening.”

I didn’t wait for an answer and let the door close behind me.