Thus did Antonio excuse his wolfish voyeurism while guiltily condemning his ambition to assuage the torment of his desires in the arms and orifices of the other sex.

Returning at dusk from his solitary prowling, he climbed up the narrow stone streets of the little village that lay on the hillside above the beach and its boxy white tourist hotels. At the village’s single restaurant he ate a fish soup and almost cried as the proprietor played his guitar and sang of the enticements of Love.

Finished with his meal, Antonio did not return to the abbey right away but wandered down again to the tourist zone. He strolled along the tiled pavement and looked into the windows of the bars, pausing now and again to gaze at the beautiful blonde maidens, vacationers from the Northern European countries, who laughed and touched the arms and cheeks of their Germanic male companions and allowed themselves to be closely embraced on the smoky little dance floors.

At a dark street corner, prostitutes accosted the handsome young priest and respectfully offered their services…just in case he was one of those vacationing here from the big city or another country. He allowed them to caress his cheek and to paw the midsection of his robe.

“Is there a brothel nearby?” Antonio asked in a strained voice. He addressed his question to one of the older, uglier women, choosing her not so much out of sympathy but to weaken his temptation.

“Of course, Father,” the woman replied eagerly, surprised to have been the one picked out. Tastes were strange, she remembered…it was why she could still work. “I’ll take you there,” she offered. She slipped her hand into the crook of the priest’s arm and led him off the main street down a dark alleyway.

“What are your preferences?” she asked him pleasantly, hoping he was not like the one who had made her undress while he preached repentance and then punished her with a whipping. Most of the religious ones, she found, preferred instead to have themselves flagellated in recompense for the sin they were committing. “What would you like me to do for you? A blowjob? Straight fucking? Around the world?”

“Oh no,” he winced, then replied solemnly, “I only want to look.” He hoped that by actually observing the acts of lust, he would somehow purge himself of his desire.