SEX WITH FATHER REYNOLDS continued until the wee hours of the morning. It was the first and only sexual encounter he would ever have. As usual, Coco thought it was the least she could do. The alarm’s high-pitched tone jerked her out of a deep sleep at 10:00 A.M. She opened her eyes and looked at Reynolds, who was wide-awake.
“Ready for another round, Father?” she asked, looking at his stiff shaft. She had left the golden needles in his chest all night. He nodded his head quickly several times. “Addictive, isn’t it?” she asked, climbing on top of him.
After fifteen minutes of intense sex, Coco grabbed a hunk of his hair and jerked to the right, snapping his neck. Then she took a shower and put on her priest disguise. She walked into the sanctuary of the church and saw a female parishioner already at the confessional. She was about 5 feet 5 inches and athletic-looking, pretty, with chestnut hair and wearing an expensive gray bouclé jacket, offset by a burgundy mock turtleneck, matching slacks, and Italian-made burgundy shoes with clear vinyl sides. Coco laughed to herself and thought, this is going to be fun. Too bad my life is almost over.
She walked into the confessional and sat down. The first parishioner entered and waited quietly. Coco was wondering why the parishioner wasn’t confessing her dirty little secrets, then realized that she hadn’t slid the panel open. After opening the window, the woman said, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” The woman had a genteel voice, and sounded well-educated.
“How long has it been since your last confession, my child?” she said, imitating Father Reynolds’ voice.
“It’s been six months since my last confession.”
“Go on, my child,” Coco said, covering her mouth while she chuckled under her breath.
“I have sold myself to my husband’s friends.”
“Why have you done this?” she asked, feeling better about her own sins. “Do you need the money or what?”
“Yes. It all began when my husband lost his well-paying position at …well, I’d rather not say. But the company was downsized, and he’s been out of work for a year. We have a twenty-five-hundred-dollar monthly mortgage payment, and I didn’t know what we were going to do. My husband’s best friend offered me the mortgage money if I would have sex with him. That’s how it all started. I was desperate, Father,” she said, then sniffed a couple of times.
“Go on, my child. Free yourself.” Coco could barely contain the enormous glee that began to bubble to the surface, forcing her to grin widely.
“I was doing it for the money. You know, to take care of our family. At first sex with them was an arduous chore. But then, I started to like it.” The woman was crying now. “Each time I committed the act, little by little, the real me began to emerge. The me that I’ve kept hidden deep within. The me that no one knew about. The me that has longed to be free from social restraints.”
“Go on,” Coco encouraged.
“I continue taking their money, but the truth is, after a while, I would have done it for nothing, Father. That’s when I realized that I was a whore. I’ve always been a whore, if only in my mind. I found myself living out every fantasy I’ve ever had with these men. I’m so ashamed.”
“No need to be ashamed, my child,” Coco said. “Tell me, does your husband know about this?”
“I eventually told him, yes.”
“Ah, the truth has set you free then?”
“Are you still seeing the men, my child?”
“Yes.”
“What are you charging them?”
“Just what it costs to survive. We have three children in very expensive private schools. Twenty-five hundred dollars each—no more.”
“Raise your price to four thousand dollars. Or increase the number of times you see them per month. I’m sure you have needs and desires, judging by that expensive outfit you’re wearing. And if they pay that sum, continue the practice, but make sure you come to confession. If they refuse to pay, tell their wives. Now, go in peace, my child.”
When the woman left the confessional, Coco laughed so hard she could hardly sit still. She composed herself when the next parishioner entered.
The next seven or eight parishioners’ confessions were boring compared to the first woman. Coco began to wonder how long it would be before the Rapist arrived. Anxious to meet him, she hoped he would be on time.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”
“How long has it been since your last confession, my son?”
“About a week.”
“Go on, my son? Unburden yourself.”
“Father, I murdered a woman.”
Coco suddenly became serious. She wondered if this was the Rapist. She looked at her watch. It was only eleven. It was a little early for the Rapist, according to the time that Father Reynolds told her. He shouldn’t have been there for another hour.
“Go on, my son. Why did you murder the woman?”
“As you know, I haven’t been able to control my urge to rape men.” Coco raised her eyebrows. It was the Rapist. She was a little disappointed she wasn’t going to be able to hear more confessions. After the first one, she was hooked.
“I followed them through Union Station. They looked like the perfect couple. I thought he loved her and would fight to keep her from being raped. Apparently, he didn’t care for her at all. The two of them ended up in a big fight. When I tried to break them up, he grabbed the gun and it went off. It was an accident. The whole scene was bizarre. I knew I had to kill her, but the strange thing is I feel so liberated now. Don’t get me wrong, Father, I felt bad for a few days, but I got over it. Given enough time, you can get over anything.”
“Tell me, my son, will you stop violating men, now that you’ve committed murder?”
“No. I’m even more committed to doing it. Isn’t that strange, Father? After you forgave me, my mind was made up. I was going to stop. But after a few days, the desire to do it again was stronger than it had ever been. After the murder, I felt terrible, but now I feel like I’ve been emancipated, like the burden of morality has been eradicated. I don’t think I’m ever coming to see you again,” he said, then abruptly left the confessional.