"I still don't get how you got all this shit up here, Greggers."
The sun was starting to settle westward over the old neighborhood. The trees were hinting at fall transformation, however the temperatures were still the sultry flavor of August. Perched high above the street, gentle breezes moderated the muggy air. Sister Janice Harper reclined on the chaise lounge sipping her Scotch on the rocks; Father Gregory Harper was busy attending to the aftermath of his grilled chicken breasts and vegetables. She was in her mid 40s, with a round, friendly face, light complexion and wore a very modified habit: the wimple covered her sweaty brow and cropped hair, however her white blouse was gathered under her generous breasts, and tied revealing her white belly and deep navel. Her blue skirt was hiked halfway up her cubby thighs and she was sans hose and shoes, her pudgy toes wiggling in the air.
Fr. Gregory wore grey sweatpants and a Loyola t-shirt. He had slightly greyed dark hair, a chiseled face starting to wrinkle, and a reasonably lean frame for someone just past the half century. Pockets of sweat were under his arms, and he worked quickly to clean the grill. The view from the belfry of St. Munchin's church was stunning, reaching toward the Loop in the North, down south to the Hammond area, eastward to Lake Michigan and westward toward Midway. Fr. Gregory populated the space with lounge furniture, a big screen TV, gas grill, full bar, refrigerator, and closets for other equipment not in view. The ledge was over 4 feet high, making it impossible to see what was happening from below, and a trap door on the floor covered the access from the church below, making the entire place secure from accidental descents.
"I had it all brought up here on a block and tackle, Pookie. There's already a power source for the lights and the automated bells. Just had to put together some weatherproof storage. I use a backpack to bring up supplies most of the time. I trust you find the setting adequate."
"Oh, yes, very adequate. How much time do you spend up here?"
"I'm up here all the time in summer and early fall. No air conditioning down below since we're so close to the Lake, and the Rectory was built in 1920s Gothic awful, so I spend a lot of time up here. Even sleep up here when it's not storming."
"How about emergency calls?"
"My cell phone works just fine up here. Got a spare rabbe and pants in the locker right there. Haven't had to slide down Batman style yet."
Janice looked around at the sky, watching a jet descent into Midway and sipped her drink. "You're lucky. In August, Sister Shelley and I have to lounge in our skivvies with all the windows open, modesty be damned."
"I guess there's not that many peeping toms want to ogle a pair of 40 something nuns over 250 pounds each."
She threw an ice cube at him, just missing him and sailing out over the street. Its faint clink was heard a few seconds afterward. "Now, Pookie, you used to have better aim that that," he chided.
"And you're still a creep, Greggers," she sniffed. "I remember family reunions when we were kids: you were a geeky kid who annoyed everybody, including your own grandmother, before they shipped you off to Seminary in desperation."
"Like that worked. Had to endure four years of that High School concentration camp before I got free and went to Art school. And you're still a bit stuck up, Pookie. Always so dainty, never wanted to get dirty."
Another piece of ice hurtled his way, hitting him in the groin. "That's enough. Who've have thought we'd end up 500 miles away in Chicago working 2 miles apart."
"Not me, that's for sure. How's First Grade at St. Edward the Confessor?"
"Oh, the kids are still excited about being in school all day, but things will settle down. I've only done it for 20 years, and I love it."
"I'll take your word for it."
"And how about your pastorate here?"
"Oh, after a year I think I've finally got a handle on how things work. "
"You shocked everybody when you gave up your Design office and went back to Seminary."
He chuckled. "It turned out all right. I'm happy for the most part." He finished with the grill, looked over the ledge, then threw the cleaning liquids down below. "Another Scotch?"
"You know I never say no," she said, holding out her glass with a smile.
He settled on a comfy chair with a gin and tonic, and they sat together enjoying the evening. Cars passed and horns sounded as car alarms were set off. "Chicago serenade," he said, "hear it all night." She smiled and nodded.
"Greggers, don't you have pigeons up here? Or bats?"
"I work hard to keep them away. Nothing immoral or illegal. Since I'm up here a lot, it's easier to control than my predecessor, who never climbed the ladder."
The sun grew big and turned more orange, shadows lengthened. They sipped their drinks and enjoyed the breze. "Tell me, Greggers, how do you handle it?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" "Oh, I ask all my priest friends. How do you handle celibacy?"
He thought for a minute, and answered: "Only if you answer the same question, Pookie."
"Done," she said without pause.
"I'm picky," he said calmly. "I'm a big of a freak, I like the strange and unconventional, so I make my ideal something so unattainable nothing ordinary really tempts me. I know I've only been a priest for eight years after being a single man on the make for 20, but it's what keeps me focused and safe."
"Not something that will get you into trouble, I trust?"
"No. I believe too much in fair play to take advantage of someone who's vulnerable. It's scary: I can see the temptation, it's like a button sitting there just waiting for me to push, but I can't do it."
"Well, good for you Greggers, you have a virtue I never suspected. Josie told me you were insatiable."
"Josie? When did you know Josie?"
"On the rebound actually. She split with you about ten years ago."
"Twelve. It was twelve years ago."
"Met her here; she was going to be a teacher's aide. Just moved out of your old third story walkup. Got to know each other, and were surprised we both knew you. We were--friendly. One night in the afterglow, she talked about your little--peccadillos."
He took a long sip of his drink, and stared off at a plane coming into land. "I trust she wasn't too. . .forthcoming."
