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The TempleChapter 20 free porn video
Jonathan Ansah exited the door to Geeta’s condo tower. He would have liked to have left the building with her so that they could walk to work together, but he knew that was impossible. They were co-workers, and if they were seen together tongues would wag. Word might reach their bank employer’s director of human resources, and then there’d be hell to pay. The “Me, Too” movement was in full swing, and Jonathan knew that if his relationship with Geeta were known to the bank, Geeta would be deemed a victim, and he, a perpetrator. Fortunately Geeta understood this as well as he did, and he knew he could count on her to be discrete. He grabbed a coffee from a nearby Starbucks, and shortly thereafter turned north on Bay Street for the short walk to the golden office tower where he worked. Literally golden, for the windows were tinted with the precious metal and today, a beautiful fourth of July, the building shone like a lighthouse.
Jonathan smiled as he recalled the lovemaking of the previous evening. He’d never been with anyone like Geeta. She made no demands on him. He could tell she was dying to find out more about him, but she asked for nothing, took nothing, expected nothing. She did not ask questions, not even about the multiple scars on his back. She had stopped volunteering information about herself once she realized he would not reciprocate. She appeared content to take him on his terms. It had taken a week or so for her to get used to him, but now she could handle his unusual size with ease, something that no other woman had been able to do. Geeta was taller than most women, and perhaps that helped. Each time they made love, Jonathan pushed Geeta’s limits, and so far he’d not been able to determine what her limits were. The girl was practically a living Kama Sutra illustration, bending her body into any position to which their lovemaking led them. And what a body! Geeta had to be about twenty-five years old, given the amount of education she had. And at that age, it would be normal for a woman’s body to be delectable. But Geeta’s body was more than that. It was as full as a mature young woman’s body can be, yet ripe and firm as a fifteen-year old’s flesh, as if she had only just blossomed into womanhood. Geeta’s hair was black as the deepest ink, yet it shone. Her skin was creamy, smooth and without blemish. Jonathan felt himself growing hard as he thought about her. Then his cell phone rang.
“Jonathan Ansah”.
An older woman’s voice answered him. “Valencia here, Jonathan. I need you at Lancemore.”
“No problem, Mother Valencia” said Jonathan. “I’ll drop by at 5 pm.”
“No, you’ll come now. And you won’t just be dropping by. This will take a while.”
“Yes, Mother Valencia,” said Jonathan, the only response he could possibly make. The reply he heard was the click of Valencia hanging up.
It was fortunate that it was the fourth of July. It was not a holiday in Canada, but it was in the U.S. and so the most important market was closed. London would be closed soon, too, having opened at three in the morning Toronto time. Thus the trading day would be mostly after-hours stuff, low volume and illiquid. He called his office.
“I’m going to be late,” he said to Bennie. “I might not make it in at all.”
“Yeah, sure,” said Bennie, “half the department is away. But unlike you, they booked the day off. You said you were going to be in. What happened?”
“Family stuff. Sorry.” Bennie grumbled and hung up.
Jonathan summoned an Uber, and within a few minutes was on his way to Lancemore. Why Opus Dei had put him under the authority of Mother Valencia was something he would never understand. He’d even gone to Bishop Bates to complain, but his excellency declined to intervene. He had no authority over Opus Dei, the bishop explained, for that organization answered to the Pope himself.
“I know that, your excellency, but can you not use your influence?”
“I have no influence where Opus Dei is concerned. None at all. But even if I had influence, I wouldn’t use it. When you joined Opus Dei, you took an oath of obedience. I know you don’t like being placed under the authority of a mere supernumerary, but Toronto is not exactly the centre of the Opus Dei universe, and I suspect that Mother Valencia is one of the most senior members here. Or is there something else that you don’t like? Do you have a problem taking direction from a woman? Is that it?”
“Not at all, your excellency.” Jonathan’s problem was altogether different. He did not like the way Mother Valencia’s eyes flowed over him the first time they met, nor the way she acted around him. She was close to sixty and arthritic; that she found him attractive and did not try to hide it was, to him, revolting. But Jonathan had taken the bishop’s admonition to heart, and since then had obeyed Valencia in all things.
The Uber pulled up at Lancemore, and Jonathan hopped out, slamming the door a bit too hard. He forgot to tip, too, and the next time he called for an Uber he would realize his rating had dropped. He knocked on Lancemore’s front door, forcing his face into a smile in preparation for seeing Mother Valencia. The door opened, and a cheery redhead greeted him.
“Bree!” he said, his smile now genuine. Bree was past forty, but not long past, and she still looked very much like the model she’d been in her teens and early twenties before she’d returned to the faith.
Bree raised herself on her toes, held his arm, and then whispered to him. He did not mind the way her lips accidentally brushed against his ear. “Mother Valencia’s in quite a mood this morning. I think her back is bothering her again. Please, please don’t piss her off; I have to spend the rest of the day with her.” Bree escorted him into the living room, where Valencia awaited him. She was seated on a large, overstuffed armchair. Valencia glanced at her watch, and sniffed. “It took you almost thirty minutes to get here,” she said.
“Sorry, Mother Valencia,” Jonathan said, bowing, and then taking her hand to kiss it as custom required. “I caught an Uber the instant you called, but traffic’s pretty bad.”
“Next time tell the driver to hurry up. However valuable your time is, I assure you mine is worth a lot more. I need to finish my report, and I can’t do that until I debrief you. Bree is here to take notes. I need to find out everything that’s happened in the last month so that the Prelate is properly informed.”
“The Prelate!” said Jonathan, shocked. He’d had no idea that Valencia reported to the very head of Opus Dei. Although technically only a priest and not a bishop, the Prelate commanded deep respect in the Church community, and from the members of Opus Dei itself, unquestioning obedience. Jonathan’s opinion of Mother Valencia jumped several notches. He took a seat when invited to do so.
“The last I heard from you was that you were making progress with this Geeta woman. You’d gotten yourself hired at the same bank, working only a few floors above where Geeta’s office is located. But I’ve heard nothing about the main goal of your assignment. You were to compromise her, and make her a fit subject for blackmail. Are you getting closer to that?”
Jonathan laughed. “Oh, yes,” he said. “I’ve compromised her alright.”
“Wonderful!” said Valencia. “Have you caught her with her hand in the till? Or set up a paper trail to make it look like she’s doing insider trading?”
“Much better than that,” said Jonathan. “I brought proof.”
“Excellent! Give the papers to Bree so that she can copy them.”
“It’s not documentary proof. It’s a video.”
“Do you have it with you?” said Valencia.
“Yes, it’s on my phone, but I’d rather not show it to you. Let me describe it for you. But first you have to understand that --”
Mother Valencia held out her hand. “Set up the video and pass it to me. Now.”
Jonathan did as instructed. He felt his face burning as he took out his cell phone, set up the video, and pressed play. He passed his phone to Mother Valencia. From the phone came the sound of a young woman’s laughter, and then Geeta’s voice could be heard saying, “You’re not making a video! You’re not!” Intrigued, Bree put down her pen and paper, and stood behind Valencia so that she could see the video.
She gasped, and Valencia, equally shocked, almost dropped the phone. Framed perfectly in the video was a beautiful young woman. A naked young woman, her breasts moving back and forth in time to the hard, swift fucking she was receiving, Jonathan’s full length visible as he pulled out all the way before slamming into her once more. It was only a few seconds before Geeta’s gasps and moans could be heard. Valencia handed him back the phone, unable to take anymore.
“How dare you! When I told you to compromise Geeta, I did not mean you were to have relations with her! I was perfectly clear. I wanted you to compromise her career!”
“And I have. Thoroughly. And that’s only one video. There’s more.”
“I don’t care if there’s a full length movie! Yes, I suppose you’ve compromised her in one sense. I’m sure she won’t want a video like that posted on the web. But you know--you certainly do know--that this is not what I wanted! What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Geeta at work is strictly by the book. She doesn’t cut corners. I went through her trading records and she’s totally above board. Nothing even close to the tiniest regulatory violation, let alone something serious that could cost her her license. And so I had to find some other way to get something on her. I did the best with what I had to work with,” said Jonathan.
“And you’ve got quite a lot to work with,” muttered Bree appreciatively, knowing that Valencia’s hearing wasn’t good enough to pick up the comment. But Jonathan did, and he had to struggle not to laugh.
“You think this is amusing?” raged Valencia.
“Sorry, Mother. No, it’s not amusing. But I thought it would be ok, because it’s been years since Opus Dei members were required to take the oath of chastity. So I haven’t broken my word. I’ve kept my vows.”
“You are an idiot,” snapped Valencia. “Your Opus Dei vows are intact, but what about basic Catholic doctrine? What about Casti Connubii? You’ve committed a sin. Perhaps a mortal sin! Bree, sit back down and start taking notes again. Wait until the Prelate hears about this!” Valencia sputtered and fumed for a while, and then composed herself so that she could continue the interview. She walked Jonathan through his story, and in less than an hour had more or less the complete account of Jonathan’s relationship with Geeta. She was the perfect listener, never interrupting, gently guiding Jonathan. As Jonathan’s tale unfolded, the only sound was the soft scratching of Bree’s pen as she took notes.
“But have you been careful?” she asked. “Does the girl know about you? Or rather, about us? Opus Dei?”
Jonathan shook his head. “She knows absolutely nothing. She knows my name, where I work, and that’s it. Nothing more.”
“And your scars. What did you tell her about those?”
“Nothing, Mother. She saw them, and felt them, but she’s never asked about them.”
“The cunning minx. Just biding her time; doubtless she’ll start prying soon enough. So for the moment she knows little of you. But what do you know about her?”
Jonathan was baffled. “Mother Valencia, I’ve told you everything I know about her; I don’t really have anything more to say...”
“Fool. You’ve only told me about what you’ve done to her. I’ve heard nothing about Geeta herself. You’ve been in her condo. So tell me what you saw. Leave no detail unmentioned.”
Jonathan did the best he could to describe Geeta’s condo. But he had to admit that when at Geeta’s place, he had other things to think about other than the decor.
“So that’s it? A simple, one-bedroom condo decorated in a tasteful, feminine fashion? That’s the best you can do?”
“It’s a two-bedroom condo, actually,” said Jonathan, “but the door to the second bedroom is always closed.”
“You must see inside the second bedroom. As soon as possible. I have to know what’s inside.”
“I’m sure I can manage that, Mother Valencia. Geeta sleeps pretty deeply after we--I mean she won’t wake up, I don’t think, so--”
“Enough!” said Valencia, holding up her hand. “I don’t need the sordid details of what you two do together. Do you have any idea why I need you to look in that second bedroom? No? Then let me explain. Geeta is not any ordinary young woman. She is our one link to the disappearance of an apostate nun, the loss through seduction of two young teenage Catholic girls, and the impregnation of a third young woman who has also abandoned the faith. Geeta is our only chance to get those poor women back into the fold.”
“May I ask how Geeta would have anything to do with that? She’s not even Catholic. I think she’s a Hindu, in fact.”
“Yes. And she’s a whore.”
“What? No she’s not! She’s a broker!”
“Now she is. But for years she was a common whore, giving her body to any man who had the money to pay for it. And I think she’s still a whore, part time.”
“That can’t be! I’d know if she were!” Now it was Valencia’s turn to laugh, and Bree’s as well.
“Men are so stupid,” said Valencia. “The least of us women can deceive the smartest man. And she sure deceived you.”
“Impossible! She’s highly paid, and I know from her trading records that her own account is large enough that she could retire right now, if she wanted to. She doesn’t need money.”
“She whores for free. I even know where: on the Toronto Islands.”
Now Jonathan laughed. “That’s ridiculous. How could that possibly be?”
“Bree, my arthritis hurts, so you will deal with Jonathan’s insolence for me by slapping him.” Bree instantly obliged.
“Beg pardon, Mother Valencia,” said Jonathan, the meekness of his words betrayed by the mask of rage on his face.
“I should think so. You have a lot to be sorry for. But to continue, yes, Geeta is a whore, and the place where she conducts herself is in a temple on the Toronto Islands.” Jonathan’s anger faded, replaced by a puzzled expression.
“A temple? Like what, a Masonic temple?
“No. A temple to the she-demon that her worshipers call Aphrodite.”
“Sorry, Mother Valencia, but does anyone actually worship Aphrodite anymore? We wiped out the pagans fifteen hundred years ago. And I’ve been to the Islands lots of times. I’ve never seen a temple there.”
“There’s no way you can see it, unless you already know it’s there. And Aphrodite has quite a following, I assure you. Her followers are not like our Lord’s. They aren’t structured, at least not the laity. One can be a worshiper of that odious creature without even realizing it. She’s very good at trapping the unwary, and she captured Geeta long ago.”
“What can I do to save her?”
“Save her? You aren’t going to save her! You will use her. You will use her to get access to the Temple! But enough. I will tell you more at the proper time. For the moment, I think I have all I need for my report. Bree, give me your notes.” Bree did as ordered, and then Jonathan rose.
“Am I dismissed then, Mother Valencia?”
“You most certainly are not dismissed! Sit back down. Or rather, kneel!” Jonathan did as instructed, and with head bowed, he listened as Valencia’s anger washed over him.
“I don’t know what to do with you. You have sinned, and most grievously. Even if I were to agree that it was necessary for you to have relations with that demon-worshiping prostitute (and I most certainly do not agree), there is no doubt that you took undue pleasure in the experience. Had you not been so taken with her, perhaps you would have found a more appropriate way to get the evidence we need to control her. Instead, you quickly resorted to the oldest and easiest method of blackmail. It will be effective, no doubt, and so I can report to the Prelate that you were successful. But the manner of your success was sinful, and I need to deal with it.”
Blaze
- 02.10.2022
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