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Two words that should never be put together. At least I didn’t call him sexy this time. That’s an improvement.
My skin is starting to flush just at the notion of seeing him in person.
Do I have time to masturbate?
Wait. No getting off to Father Lachlan before going to see him, Avery. That will surely not help me feel any less needy right now.
Although… what time crunch am I under? I glance at my bedside table. The drawer with my favorite vibrator in it is calling to me.
Pull it together, Avery. No.
I shake my head as I try to recompose myself. Less thoughts of Lachlan, more focus on getting through this meeting.
Grabbing my purse, I take the short walk to the church grounds.
Staring up at the parish office doors, I take in a final deep breath and make my way inside.
I’m spotted by Patricia, the receptionist. She’s been with the parish for over ten years and is more like an office manager without the title. She’s an older woman with short, white hair and silver-rimmed glasses she usually lets dangle around her neck from a dainty matching chain.
It’s eerily quiet in the building.
“Good morning, Mrs. Matheson. Father Lachlan has been expecting you to stop by this week. Right this way,” she says firmly.
Patricia gets out from behind the desk and immediately starts to walk toward his office before I have a chance to process that he’s in right now, and we are about to be face-to-face.
“Oh, he’s here?”
This woman moves fast. Even with my long strides, she’s making me walk quickly to catch up.
“Of course, he is; come on now,” she answers without a glance back to me.
Following her lead, we weave through the hallways toward the back of the building. I haven’t seen anyone else on our walk. This place is very unnervingly quiet.
“Here you are.”
She gestures with her hands at his open door. Time to fake it until I make it.
“Thank you.”
Lachlan’s green eyes shoot up as soon as he hears Patricia outside the door. I’m now awkwardly standing in his doorway. My nerves are getting ready to combust inside me. Red lipstick is not enough to make me feel as confidently put together as I’d hoped.
“Avery. Please close the door and take a seat,” Lachlan says.
He immediately stands and gestures in front of him to the open chairs on the opposite side of his desk with a warm smile.
I do as he asks without questioning why the door needs to be closed. I’d like the privacy so no one else will witness the train wreck that I feel like I’m about to become.
Should this situation be a red flag? Putting this in my growing suitcase of scenarios I need to unpack, featuring the one and only Father Lachlan O’Connell.
“Thank you for coming in,” he continues.
Lachlan retakes his seat as I sit in one of the available chairs. Fixing my dress around me first, I play nervously with a lock of my hair to keep my hands occupied.
Lachlan’s eyes still on the movement. They’re following the small twirls I’m making.
“It’s not a problem. What can I do to help further the gala?”
Shaking his head briefly, he regains his composure. I can’t say the same for myself. My fingers are intertwined with my golden blonde hair. He inspects my complete demeanor more closely now.
