As the new guy in the parish, it became my duty to man the confessional, so here I was, sitting alone in the semi-dark when I heard the door click and...the swish of a dress to my left. Then… nothing. “Can I help you?” I asked.“Father Tim?” came the tentative reply.“Father Tim has been transferred. I’m Father Edward.”“Do you know where he went?” Her voice was deep, husky, that of a middle-aged woman.“I’m afraid not. I can hear your confession if you’d like.”"Well, if you really want to,” she said. Watching her in that skirt was easily the biggest reason why I stopped at the sports bar where she worked for a beer or two on my way home from work, always hoping Allie would be serving me–in more ways than one. Although, I knew it was not to be. I was happily married for many years now and did not want that to change. Then before I knew it, Allie asked for my phone number. I was very hesitant at first, she begged and I gave in. We exchanged numbers and I entered AL, just in case someone. More

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