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“Good evening, my child,” he said.
“Good evening, Father.”
“What would you like to confess?”
She heaved a breath then started. “Um. I’ve . . . I’ve had some impure thoughts.”
“Yes?”
“And . . .” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I’ve done some terrible things, Father!”
“Shhh,” he soothed. “Confess and all will be forgiven.”
She cried quietly. “I . . . I don’t know how to say them.”
“God knows your sins. Take your time and say them when you’re ready.”
If He already knew, couldn’t she keep them inside? “Well, I . . . I let a man touch me.”
“Your husband?”
“No.” This sounded terrible. Way worse than she’d thought. “Well, maybe but not yet.”
“Go on.”
“He brought me to a club where men and women committed sins in front of others . . .”
She paused. Would lightning come from the sky and strike her dead? Would the priest faint? It was quiet for a long moment. Finally, she went on. The quicker she said it, the sooner it would be over.
“I sat on his lap and got very .
. . stimulated.” Her voice shook. “And then in the car, he put his hand on my panties and . . .”
The priest cleared his throat, cutting her short. “The Lord thanks you for your confession.” His voice tightened, but at least he hadn’t fainted. “The details are between you and God,” he explained. “But I would caution you against going further with this man. If he cannot wait to have you until marriage, perhaps he is not a man worth marrying.”
She nodded, figuring he’d say as much. But what the priest didn’t know was that Konstantin was kind and patient and caring. To have done so well in business, he must have been smart and hardworking too. What more could a country girl like her ask for? Virgin or not, he was more than any man she knew back home. There was also the fact that she wanted Konstantin just as desperately as he seemed to want her. She wanted to be a good girl, but abstinence in this situation might take the forbearance of a saint.
The priest was kind and didn’t insist on strict penance—not like the one back at home. After thanking him, she slipped out of the confessional and tiptoed back to Konstanin.
“All done?” he asked.
She nodded, feeling the weight of the last few days lift from her shoulders somewhat. But her stomach twisted in knots. It was expected she not commit the same sins she’d just confessed, but how would she hold herself back when Konstantin made her feel so . . . lusty?
As she climbed back into his car—into the very seat she’d orgasmed in just last night—she prayed for God to give her strength.
* * *
Never had Varushka seen anything as busy as Times Square. Loud and chaotic, with people and performers and displays and shops, it was like a dazzling festival. It was even more shocking when Konstantin told her it was like this year-round.
Packed in amongst throngs of strangers, the feel of Konstantin’s strong hand on her—sometimes on her shoulder, sometimes holding her hand, and sometimes even grazing her bottom—made her feel safe to explore. He followed her down streets and through stores like a well-paid bodyguard, never more than an arm’s length away.
Early in the day’s sightseeing venture she’d realized that she had to be careful. If she admired anything, Konstantin bought it and added the new bag to the host of others he carried. Dresses, shoes, souvenirs, jeans, baseball caps, and even a few toys had found their way into her new possessions. Some of them she was sending home to family, but most were just things she’d mentioned were cute. Crazy man. He liked spoiling her too much.
Every time they walked into a store she had to bite her lips together while Konstantin hovered, grinning, as though he found her enthusiasm as much fun as she found exploring.
The candy store was her undoing.
As they walked past the window, she tried not to look in, but the place held more candy than she’d ever seen—all in unfamiliar packaging. As a child, her family teased her about her sweet tooth but she’d never been allowed many treats. Before she realized what she was doing, her feet had slowed her to a stop. She stared inside, dazzled. Only her dignity kept her from pressing her nose against the glass.
