LOGINClémenceNight falls, and I already feel condemned. His words resonate within me: "You will recite ten Hail Marys and ten Our Fathers…" Like an order engraved in my flesh. But the more I hear them, the more they blend with his own timbre, as if Gabriel hadn't given me a spiritual trial, but an intimate injunction, almost carnal.I close the door to my apartment, this modest refuge where every piece of furniture feels foreign, too silent. My desk is piled with schoolbooks I should be grading, but I can't. How can I focus on spelling mistakes when I'm dying to speak his name, to imagine his lips so close to mine?I sit on the edge of my bed. I clasp my hands like an eager child, close my eyes. The prayer begins.— Hail Mary, full of grace…The first phrase slips off my tongue, but instantly an image appears: Gabriel, his fingers touching the wood of the confessional, his eyes so deep a brown they seem to swallow the world.— The Lord is with thee…I see him, not in his priestly vestment
ClémenceThe night seemed endless. I closed my eyes dozens of times, but each time sleep threatened to come, his face appeared behind my eyelids. I saw his lips, his gaze that pierces the silence, his hands that seemed made to bless and condemn simultaneously. With every beat of my heart, I felt it beat for him.By morning, my eyelids are heavy, but my mind is on alert, obsessed. I feel like I've crossed an arid desert, a desert burned by the fire of desire. My thoughts are dry, my body empty, and my chest so heavy I struggle to breathe. I know I will give in: I will go back to the church. Not because my faith demands reparation, but because my desire demands its poison.I should be elsewhere. I'm a teacher in a small neighborhood school, and I'm supposed to give a reading lesson to my seven-year-old students this morning. Their boundless energy, their eyes bright with curiosity, their voices rising all at once… normally, all this anchors me in a reassuring reality. But today, even th
The Forbidden ConfessionsClémence lives for these moments stolen from the silence of the church. Faithful her whole life, she feels an intense disturbance every time she meets the gaze of the young priest Gabriel. His rigor, his contained gentleness, and that mixture of power and control awaken in her a desire she cannot repress.At each confession, Clémence feels her body shiver, her heart race. She repeats the gestures of devotion, but her thoughts always wander toward the priest. She becomes obsessed with him, imagining their hands brushing, their breaths mingling, every silence of the church becoming a theater of forbidden fantasies.This obsession drives her to seek pretexts to get closer, to test her limits and Gabriel's, subtly provoking him, playing with danger and guilt. She is fascinated by the priest's inner struggle, his battle between faith and desire, and takes secret pleasure in watching his barriers waver.Clémence is the muse and instigator of this clandestine passio
CLARAThe following days are a strange mixture of restlessness and wonder. Every morning, I wake with a new sensation, a deep awareness of the life awakening within me. The dizziness and fatigue are there, light but constant, reminding me that something precious is growing each day.I spend hours observing my belly, gently caressing it, murmuring tender words to this little being who is still only a fragile secret, but already so real. Every movement I feel, every tingling fills me with emotion. The fear of doing wrong, of not being ready, mingles with a deep and immeasurable joy.I also notice the small transformations of my body: my breasts more sensitive, sometimes painful, my changing moods, my food cravings that oscillate between indulgence and repulsion, and that fatigue that sometimes forces me to lie down just to breathe. Every change reminds me that life is growing inside me, fragile and precious.LUCASHe notices every change. Whene
CLARAThe sun slips through the curtains, bathing our room in a soft and warm light. I wake slowly, still enveloped in the memory of last night, of our embraces, our murmurs, of that silent promise that now seems engraved in every beat of my heart.A strange dizziness surprises me, light, almost imperceptible at first. I sit up in bed, the sheets sliding around my hips, and I feel my heart accelerate. There is something… something different, fragile and yet powerful. My body speaks to me, sends me a message I hadn't anticipated.I get up and head to the bathroom, the mirror reflecting my image back to me: pale, breath short, but eyes shining with a new light. I close my eyes for a moment and, with a trembling gesture, I touch my belly. A gentle and frightening intuition at once seizes me.— No… I murmur under my breath, hesitant but full of hope.I rush to the pharmacy, buy a pregnancy test and run home, my heart pounding
CLARAWe leave the company, the fresh air enveloping me after the palpable tension of the last moments. My husband walks beside me, his hand squeezing mine with a gentle firmness that both reassures and ignites me. Each shared breath seems to erase the last traces of the past.— Are you okay? he murmurs, his warm voice caressing my ear.I nod, a trembling smile on my lips, feeling my eyes still shine with accumulated emotion.— Yes… better now… with you. Always with you.He leans in, placing a light kiss on my temple, then on my lips, as if to seal this silent promise. My heart tightens with happiness and desire. Every brush of his hands on mine, every touch of his lips on my skin, reminds me that I am no longer alone, that my present and my future are with him.The car ride is silent, but charged with complicity. Our hands remain linked, and sometimes our fingers gently caress each other, as if to prolong the
ÉricThe office door slams shut behind us.The air conditioner hums. The fluorescent lights buzz. Everything seems normal.But nothing is.I can still smell Clara's perfume on my shirt. And Jade's in my throat.It's as if I'm carrying two women at once.One on my skin.The other under my skin.— Wa
ÉricI didn't sleep.Not a single second.The living room is a battlefield. The wrinkled rug. My shirt, torn. My body, marked. My mouth, still warm from hers. And yet, she vanished like a mirage.I stayed there, frozen, naked, for an eternity. As if my body refused to return to reality. As if the v
ÉricI came home.Clara was still asleep. The house was silent, peaceful. I closed the door without a sound, took off my shoes, walked down the hall like a thief. Headed for the bathroom. I turned on the light, eyes squinting. The mirror reflected a man I no longer recognized.I took a scalding sho
ÉricThe room is bathed in warm semi-darkness. The curtains are drawn. The silence is almost unreal, as if this place belonged to another dimension. A world outside time, outside laws, outside myself. A world she built beyond morality, a sanctuary where everything I thought I was becomes ridiculous







