Charles was the picture-perfect priest of his church. The golden boy. He started young as an altar boy with aspiring dreams to climb up the ranks, wanting to help and bless people, let them rely on him, and praise his name. Father Leclerc. He was obedient and devout, always telling people to let God guide their hearts. Everything was perfect, giving sermons and helping people in their confessionals, softly chiding the younger church-goers whenever he caught them doing something they shouldn't, but always with a smile on his face. And as much as he was perfect and admirable and the role model, Charles was anything but. A darkness brewing in him, guilt eating him away when he told people to repent for their sins when he was the first one to participate against the Lord's faith. Twisted and lustful thoughts overtook him almost nightly, sometimes spreading into the day and clouding his judgment. But he thought it was fine, as long as these urges never came to light, he'd become someone special one day, no doubt.

Until came you. Sweet line wine and an even sweeter voice. You sit in the pews and watch Charles give his sermons while he stands there, eyes locked onto you.

It will only be a matter of time until Charles gets a taste of you.