Playing With Her Priests Read online S.E. Law

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
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“Give us a second,” I say calmly but Violet giggles again and scampers off before we can answer. I roll my eyes. Some people are just so immature.

Turning to my co-pastor, I raise an eyebrow.

“What should we do? Obviously, we’re getting the Inquisition.”

Jordan shrugs.

“Maybe we should tell them. I mean, now is as good as any other time and we can’t beat around the bush forever.” I look over at Mira and try to communicate what’s about to happen. That doesn’t work because we’re not telepathic, so I take out my phone to text her our plan. She looks down at her phone and then looks back up at me, nodding.

Wow, that was quick, but that’s all we need. The three of us are finally going to put all of the rumors to rest as a team.

I take a step forward and get the room’s attention by raising a hand.

“Hey everyone, if I could just get your attention for a moment. Pastor Jordan and I have some exciting news, and I hope you’ll join us in sharing our joy.”

The room goes almost completely quiet as people glance at one another. A few girls nod, and I’m sure they think we’re about to reveal that we’re a gay couple. Hardly.

“I’m guessing some of you are wondering about these rings on our fingers,” I say. The room starts to whisper, probably titillated by the admission that’s about to come. But then I throw them a curveball. “Mira could you come here?”

The whole room looks puzzled as she makes her way to the front. Her cheeks are the brightest red, and even her curls seem to be trembling. I know she said yes to telling everyone, but I also know that Mira doesn’t enjoy being the center of attention. Unfortunately, it’s too late for that now.

She walks quietly to our sides, standing between the two of us.

“So, to answer the first question that may be on your minds, Jordan and I are not gay, not that there’s anything wrong with that. As you know, we welcome all types of people at the Village Church, and that includes gay, straight, trans, and gender queer individuals. If you’d like to be addressed as a certain pronoun, please feel free to let us know. I know the congregation is open-minded and we will do our best to address you by your preferred pronoun.”

Quite a few people nod their heads, murmuring quietly. I’m proud of this group because we do have a few transgender folks, and we do our best to respect their pronoun choices. It seems like a basic way to show tolerance, and I have no problem with any type of salutation.

But then Jordan continues.

“Gender pronouns aside, you’ve probably seen the rings on our fingers, and that’s because we have some amazing news to share. Last week, we got married to this beautiful girl standing between us, Mira Corcoran. As you know, Mira’s been with our church since last Fall, and she adores being a part of the Village. I hope you’ll welcome our relationship with open arms, and welcome Mira as a valued member of our community too.”

Shocked gasps sound all throughout the room. Then, it only takes a couple of seconds for the whispers to start. I’m not able to catch every word, but quite a few comments filter over to us.

“Are you fucking serious? Eeew.”

“Wait, I’m confused. Both of them married the girl? How is that possible?”

And the worst: “How can they do something so perverted? There is nothing godly about this.”

People are staring at us. Their eyes are filled with shock, disgust, and even worse, hate. How is that possible? Just a few moments ago, we were a congregation at peace, priding ourselves on tolerance. But now, it seems we’ve been riven by something major and decisive.

Plus, I’m worried about the effect of these malicious words on our wife. I look over at Mira and am immediately impressed. Her eyes are wet, but she keeps her head held high and her back straight. She’s proud to be married to us.

That’s our girl.

After the initial wave of shock, congregants start to leave, a lot of them giving us the side eye as they exit. At first, only a few people depart, but soon it becomes a mad rush as people grab their stuff and head for the doors, still whispering behind their hands. Mira looks at Jordan and me, her eyes panicked, but I merely shrug. I expected a bad reaction, and unfortunately, my expectations were met.

I wait until it looks like the last person who wants to leave has left. Only a smattering of parishioners remain, and it’s a little sad, to be honest. There are discarded cups and paper plates on the floor, as our remaining congregation mills about uneasily.

I look each and every person in the eye, my gaze firm and reassuring.


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