Chapter 9

“I really don’t want to go to church with you tomorrow,” Sonny told his parents and grandfather Saturday evening at supper. The family sat around the dinner table at Coulson House. Garret was the only absent family member.

“It’s nonnegotiable,” Randall told his grandson. Sonny’s parents said nothing, but listened to the exchange.

“Well, Grandfather, I’m an adult now. A college graduate. If I don’t want to attend church that should be my prerogative.”

“Fine,” Randall said as he took a roll from the breadbasket and tore it in half.

“Fine? Then you’re okay with it?” Sonny asked.

“No. But I can’t make you go. As you said, you’re an adult now.” Randall took a bite of his roll. “Of course, I imagine an adult can pay for his own European tour.”

“Are you saying I can’t go on the trip if I refuse to go to church with you?”

“Certainly not. You’re free to go to Europe. You’re an adult. But I don’t have to pay for it.”

Sonny sat dumbly at the table, saying nothing.

“Dad, did you go to church when you were a kid?” Russell asked his father.

“No, we didn’t start going to church until I married your mother.”

“Your father’s right,” Randall said. “Your grandmother and I never attended church. My family was Baptist. When I left home, I swore I’d never go back. As for your grandmother, I can’t remember what church her family attended. But she stopped going when we were married.”

“Grandfather, I would think you’d understand my feelings, considering you stopped going to church when you left home,” Sonny said.

Randall set his fork on the table and looked at his eldest grandson.

“You say you’re an adult, Sonny. It’s time you realize there are certain things we must do—for both business and political reasons.”

“Political?” Sonny asked.

“Yes. The future is unlimited for the men in this family. There may come a time we want to test the waters of politics, but before we do, we need to present the perfect image of the American family. The perfect American family attends church together on Sundays.”

“I’ll go, Grandfather,” Sonny begrudgingly conceded. It was quiet for a few minutes at the dinner table as everyone ate. Finally, Sonny asked, “Does Garret go to church with the family?” Sonny couldn’t imagine his brother would still be attending church every Sunday.

Vera looked up at Sonny and gave a sardonic smile. “Much to the minister’s chagrin,” she said.

“I don’t understand?” Sonny frowned.

“How old was Garret when you left for college? Twelve? I don’t think you appreciate your younger brother’s personal charm,” Randall said.

“I don’t know why you find it so amusing.” Vera sounded annoyed. She looked over at her eldest son. “Garret is out of control and your father and grandfather find it amusing.”

“Oh, he isn’t that bad,” her husband said. “He’s just a typical teenage boy, sowing his wild oats.”

“I still don’t understand why you said much to the minister’s chagrin,” Sonny asked.

“Some very nice girls attend our church,” Vera explained. “From very nice families. Garret seems to delight in flirting with—and sitting with these young girls at church, and it’s fairly obvious it makes their parents uncomfortable.”

“The girls really like Garret,” Russell said.

Anthony was getting restless. He figured it was time to step up the game. He hadn’t seen the princess since Friday night. He had driven by her house several times on Saturday but didn’t venture up the long drive to the estate or park on the street.

Cruising around town on Sunday morning, he noticed the Coulson limousine at one of the churches. He parked across the street for an hour and just watched. When services were over, he saw them—the princess and her family. I wonder if she confessed her sins, he asked himself with a chuckle. Then he remembered protestant churches didn’t have confessionals, at least that is what he understood.

Anthony watched as she got into the limo with the old man, her husband and oldest son. He recognized Garret, who was with a small boy. Instead of getting into the limo, the two were walking over to Garret’s truck. Anthony remembered she had a third son about this boy’s age. Taking a pair of binoculars out of the glove compartment, he took a closer look.

Good looking boy, he thought. He didn’t think it was fair that her husband had three strapping boys and a hot wife. Especially considering the fact Coulson wasn’t giving the woman what she clearly needed. There was no way she would have responded the way she did in the bathroom if she wasn’t starving for a man’s touch. Another woman might have submissively let him have his way, but there would have been tears. There were no tears with the princess—just soaked panties.

It wasn’t difficult to follow the limousine without being seen, considering the number of cars leaving the church parking lot at the same time. When they pulled up to a restaurant a couple miles away, he figured they were going to have breakfast. Knowing women, he knew where he would find her.

Anthony slipped into the back entrance of the restaurant and located the women’s restroom. He stood by the door for a moment, waiting to see if anyone was coming out. Finally, a woman exited.

“Excuse me,” he asked the woman. “I’m looking for my wife, and I think she went in the lady’s room. Was a redhead in there?”

“No. There isn’t anyone in there,” The woman told him. Anthony thanked her and watched her walk away. When no one was looking, he slipped into the women’s restroom. He was pleased to discover a storage room off the bathroom. The door was locked, but it took him less than a minute to get it open and slip inside.

The storage room was even larger than he had expected. It would easily hold two people. Keeping the door slightly ajar, he could see who was coming into the bathroom.

She arrived even sooner than he had anticipated. The princess was alone.

Vera was about to walk into the first stall when a hand from the storage room reached out and grabbed her, while a second hand covered her mouth. In the next moment, she found herself in a dark closet, held captive by a pair of strong arms.

“Settle down, Princess,” the voice whispered. She knew instantly who it was. Vera did as she was told.

“Please, let me go,” she whispered.

“I just needed to see you. I missed you. You’re so beautiful, you know. I won’t hurt you.”

“Please, just let me go. I won’t say anything.”

“I know you won’t, Princess, because you know we’re meant for each other. I can give you want you need. A woman like you needs special care.”

“Please, I’ll scream.”

“No you won’t. If you do, I’ll tell your husband you came willingly.”

“He won’t believe you,” she whispered.

“He will, when I tell him how I know you have a sexy little heart shaped mole.”

“Please…” Vera began to shake.

“Princess, if you didn’t want this, didn’t need this, you would have screamed by now. You need what I can give you.”

“No…” She trembled.

“Baby, your husband isn’t man enough for a woman like you. When was the last time he gave you what you needed? Gave you what I gave you Friday night?”

“What do you want from me?” she asked.

Instead of answering her question, he showed her. Anthony’s mouth claimed hers while his arms wrapped around her, holding her close.

Vera could not remember the last time she had been kissed like this. She had only been with two men in her entire life. The first was a neighbor—Fred, the husband to one of her mother’s best friends. She was only fourteen at the time and still a virgin. Vera never told her mother—or anyone what had happened.

When Anthony kissed her—demanded she acquiesce—she was that fourteen-year-old girl again, submitting from fear, confusion, and conflicting sexual desire. Anthony intuitively knew he was in control, that she would do whatever he asked.

Without saying a word, he pushed Vera to her knees and unzipped his pants.

Vera stood at the sink and looked into the mirror. Anthony had slipped out of the bathroom a few minutes earlier, and there were two women in the stalls. They had entered when she was still in the closet with Anthony—on her knees.

Terrified that they would hear them or open the door, she submissively followed Anthony’s silent instructions. She could still taste him. Had she not followed his instructions exactly, her Sunday dress would now be spattered with his seed. She felt ill.

Trembling, she washed her face with a paper towel.

“I was just going to come back to check on you,” Harrison said when she returned to the table. He then took a closer look and frowned. “Vera, are you all right? You look all flushed, and you’ve been crying.”

“I’m afraid I’m sick.” It wasn’t a complete lie. “I’m going to have the driver take me home. You stay here and enjoy your breakfast.”

“Are you sure?” Randall asked.

“Yes. It’s just a bad headache. Sometimes those make me ill.”

On the ride back home, Vera sat alone in the back of the limousine, lost in private thought. Closing her eyes, she visualized herself on her knees before Anthony.

For as long as she could remember, she was simply going through the motions. It wasn’t just that she was not happy—she felt nothing. While a part of her was repulsed over what Anthony had made her do in the storage room, he also made her feel something.

By feeling something, she once again felt alive. A moth to flame, she thought.