Kim wakes. The sun is up. She is alone. Naked. Sore. But the room is empty. It is like no one has been there.
She tries to sit up but she feels giddy. Faint. Like she has taken something.
Or been given something.
The flat screen is blank.
But if she looks hard it's like there are people there. Naked people. Naked butts and private parts.
GODDDD. I watched Bill raping Janey and Lucy and Sally right there yesterday. GODDDD.
She lies down again.
And Father Phelan. I trusted him, she thinks.I confessed my sins to him. Little sins like jealousy and covetousness and bad thoughts about people. And he fucked my nieces.
Kim resolved what to do. She would go straight down to the church and confront him. Or tell someone. Anyone.
She dressed. She ddn't know why but something drew her to the black lace underwear Bill had given her. Years ago. She'd never worn it. It just sat at the bottom of the draw.
She pulled it on. It felt great.
And then the black cocktail dress. She didn't wear that much either. But it still fit.
She checked the mirror. Wow. Hips, breasts, waist, legs. She'd show these people she was a force to be reckoned with. And if Bill wanted to look at young girls for sex, well let him see what he was missing.
Where were her silk stockings? And her high heels?
Kim was half way to the church when she realised how strange she felt. Horny was the word the kids on the bus used. She was incredibly horny. The dress was too tight and too short, and if she pulled the hem down her breasts showed.
She stopped in a bus shed for a moment and sat. The dress rode up to the top of her thighs. Her legs felt silky. She ran her fingers up them to the hem of the dress. And then under the dress. She found her vagina. She was moist. It felt good to trace the outline through the panties. And even better to slip her finger underneath, sliding to and fro across the slit, teasing her clitoris, slipping inside a little.
GODDDDD. She was sitting in a bus shed pleasuring herself. Why? Thank goodness no one had come along.
Kim stood, gathered herself together and turned the street corner. The house where the priests lived was first. She opened the squeaky gate and marched up to the front door. Knocked. No answer. Knocked again.
But there was a noise from the garden at the side. She stepped round to find a man gardening. He was shirtless, neatly muscled and tanned, with a tattoo on his left shoulder. He was bent low in the bushes and his tight trousers had ridden down exposing a neat ass crack and a hint of tan line.
Kim didn't know why, but she stepped up and placed her fingers down his ass crack, gently gliding them neatly until she felt the pressure between his skin and pants.
"What the fuck?"
The man stood, alarmed and turned. It was Father Romero, the new young Filipino novice.
"Father Romero. I'm sorry. I didn't realise it was you."