Saintly Flesh

The room was dark except for the soft glow of a table filled with prayer candles, casting shadows against ancient cathedral walls. The air was thick with the scent of incense remaining after the evening mass. Jenna knelt on a velvet cushion she’d borrowed from a pew.  Her hair cascaded like flowing dark water, and her eyes were closed in a state of serene contemplation.

Jenna was the embodiment of beauty and grace even though her form shivered naked in the candlelight. The flickering light played upon her delicate features, highlighting her high cheekbones and the fullness of her lips that are slightly parted as if in a whispered prayer.

Jake stood before her, a handsome man in the most conventional sense. He was a stark contrast to the ethereal beauty before him, with eyes that could hold the weight of the world. His hands were rough, marked by common labor, and he stood leaning slightly back, as if uncomfortable with the place of honor he occupied.

Jenna’s hands were clasped together, her fingers gripping themselves as if holding on to a last hope. She was the picture of devotion, her posture one of reverence and longing. Her expression held both adoration and despair, knowing for a certainty that she prayed for more than any man could give.

Jake watched her, silent and still like the silent saints lining the walls.  Her supplications were muddled syllables without meaning to him but strong enough to fill the air around them. His chest rose and fell with a quickness that said, “I’m only human.” He was not the savior Jenna yearned for, not the spiritual guide to lead her through her depression. He was flesh and bone, a temporary companion piercing her life’s loneliness.

Jenna leaned forward to touch Jake with the tip of her nose and then press a kiss into him. She prayed not to the man, but through the man as if seeking a connection that transcended the physical world. She pressed him against her tears as if seeking something more profound than simple pleasures of the flesh.

Jenna looked up into Jake’s face. He saw the vulnerability in her eyes and a glint of tears. Her eyes held a reflection of the candlelight, as she looked upon this man with a mixture of worship and resignation. She knew he was not her salvation, but in that moment, he was all of creation to her. She took him into her mouth and held him there to feel the heat of his life. She tasted the salt of Creation’s oceans and realized she was worshiping again at the altar of the phallic gods that bind her sacred with the profane honesty of flesh.

Lowering her eyes, Jenna opened her mouth wide around him and whispered, “Come,” ending with the sound of “mmmm” as her lips closed around him again. The cathedral walls echoed the humming of her alto voice. A voice filled with meaning that can’t be spoken in words.