109 comments/ 77470 views/ 50 favorites Confession of Adultery By: FrancisMacomber "Welcome to our city, Mr. Harrison," the heavy-set woman gushed. "Preston here has told us such marvelous things about you!" She paused for breath, her ample bosom heaving. "We'll all miss Bob Allen, of course, but we're so excited to have you succeed him at the United Fund." "You're very kind to say so," Carter Harrison responded. "Bob is leaving behind some awfully big shoes to fill, but I'm looking forward to the challenge." Preston Charlton, the president of the bank that was hosting the reception, beamed happily as he skillfully guided his guest of honor around to meet other invitees. He had headed the search committee that had found Harrison, and now that the United Fund's full Board of Trustees had ratified the committee's recommendation, Preston was eager to show off his find. The reception room was filled with a mix of local business leaders, city politicos and representatives from the various charitable agencies that received grants from the United Fund. The mood was convivial. A little free booze and some high quality hors d'oeuvres were just the thing to ensure a warm welcome for the new man, Charlton thought. "Who's the tall fellow chatting with the Mayor?" Harrison asked. "And who's the attractive woman with them?" Charlton looked around to see where Carter Harrison was indicating, and a smile came to his face. "Oh, that's Father Mac Maclanahan, the priest at St. Ann's. The woman is Colleen O'Reilly. She's the director of one of your member agencies, the Second Chance Women's Shelter. She's also Father Mac's wife. You've got to meet them." Carter's face took on a puzzled expression. "A priest with a wife?" "Oh, sorry, I should have said St. Ann's Episcopal Church. And before you ask about the difference in names, Colleen kept her maiden name when they married." Harrison's face was still skeptical. "And why is it so important that I meet Father Maclanahan?" he asked. Charlton smiled. "Father Mac is one of the most influential men in town." "Oh, really?" Harrison replied. "I wouldn't have thought a priest would have that much influence, except on spiritual matters, of course. What makes Maclanahan so special?" "It's hard to say, but he's just one of the most decent people you'll ever meet. Everybody likes and trusts him, and everybody goes to him for counsel and advice. And not just members of his parish either." "Well let's go meet this paragon priest," Harrison said. Hearing an odd tone in Harrison's voice, Charlton glanced quickly at the shorter man. But Harrison had a smile on his face, so Charlton led his honored guest over to the couple. "Colleen, Father Mac, I'd like to introduce you to Carter Harrison, the new Executive Director of the United Fund," Charlton said heartily. Once the introductions were made all around, Father Mac smiled at Harrison. "Preston tells us that before you entered the non-profit sector you had quite a career at Proctor & Gamble. Has that experience been valuable in working with United Funds?" Harrison didn't hesitate. "The private sector all too often focuses on short-term gain to the detriment of long-term goals, but its emphasis on measurable results is something that I've found can be very useful in working with charities. You'll find that I'm a very results-oriented individual." Then he turned to Colleen. "One of the techniques I've used very successfully is to establish small inter-agency task forces to tackle some of the issues that communities face. Ms. O'Reilly, Preston here tells me that you're one of the most energetic and successful agency heads in the city. Perhaps I could persuade you to lead one of those task forces?" Colleen blushed at the unexpected compliment. "I'd be honored, Carter. That sounds like a great idea." After the reception, when Mac and Colleen had returned to the parsonage, he teased Colleen about her blush. "Well, we learned one thing about Carter Harrison: he knows how to make a good first impression, at least on some agency heads I know." Colleen blushed again. "Well, I know a certain husband who could take a few lessons on paying compliments to his wife," she said with a saucy grin. "Are you talking about the husband with the hottest wife at the reception tonight?" he asked archly. When Colleen grinned at him, he went on, "See: I may not be the most debonair husband, but at least I'm teachable." With that he made a grab for his wife, who giggled as she eluded his grasp and ran into the bedroom, making sure that he was hot on her heels. * * * * * * * * * * A couple of months later, Father Mac had lunch with Bob Allen. He hadn't seen his old friend since the former United Fund executive had retired, and he wanted to find out how the man was enjoying his new life. When they'd finished their meal and the waitress had brought them coffee, Allen looked at Father Mac appreciatively. "I'm glad you wanted to get together, Father Mac. One of the things I miss most in retirement is not meeting with people as often as I used to. Once you're out of the game, people tend to think you don't have anything of value to contribute anymore." "I'm surprised to hear that, Bob. I know for a fact that your old team holds you in high regard. I would think they'd still come to you for your opinion and advice." Allen's face took on a resigned expression. "You're kind to say that, Father Mac. And maybe some of them would. But I've gotten the sense that the new man in charge wants to cut ties with the past. After one of the team called to ask me a question, I heard that Harrison chewed her out and told her to check with him before she called me again." Father Mac's brows furrowed. "That doesn't sound like a very helpful attitude to take," he said mildly. Allen brushed it aside. "It's probably for the best. The new guy has his own agenda and wants to do things his own way. Calling an old fart like me just slows down the transition." Father Mac smiled at him. "You're hardly an old fart, Bob. Besides, you know more about this United Fund than anybody else around." The two finished their lunch and agreed to stay in touch. Afterwards, as he returned to his little office at St. Ann's, Father Mac kept thinking about Bob Allen's comments. "I think I'll check in with Preston and get his take on how Harrison is doing." Charlton's secretary was a member of Father Mac's congregation, and she was happy to put her priest straight through to the bank president. "What can I do for you, Father Mac?" Charlton said warmly. "I hope you're not calling to bawl me out because I missed Mass last Sunday." Father Mac laughed. "If I had to scold everyone who ever missed a service I wouldn't have time for anything else. No, I just thought I'd touch base with you on our new United Fund exec and see how he's working out." "He's doing great!" Charlton exclaimed immediately. "He's already been calling on major donors and he's gotten a number of them to agree to an increase even before the campaign begins. That fellow is a go-getter - I think we've found a real winner." "That's great news, Preston," Father Mac responded. "I was a big fan of Bob Allen, and when he left I was worried that we'd have a hard time finding a suitable successor. But it sounds like you've done really well for us." The call with Preston reassured Father Mac, and he decided that he'd been concerned unnecessarily. Accordingly, when he went by the United Fund office a week later to meet with one of the account executives, he'd largely forgotten his earlier unease. On his way back to Bill Simpson's cubicle, he had to pass Marge Terrell's desk and he gave her a friendly wave. "How's my favorite bookkeeper today?" he asked pleasantly. He'd actually never been introduced to the older lady, but she'd been a fixture at the United Fund for years and always had a smile and a friendly greeting for the priest. When he reached Bill Simpson's desk, the two men began to talk about the homeless audit they hoped to conduct in the coming months. Working with the homeless was an area of special interest for Father Mac, and St. Ann's regularly conducted clothing drives and operated a soup kitchen to help them. After the two men had finished their discussion, Bill asked Father Mac not to leave right away. "Have you got time to get a cup of coffee with me in the break room, Father Mac? There's something else I'd like to discuss with you." Something in the way the man asked caught Mac's attention, and he quickly agreed. When they reached the break room, Bill looked in to make sure it was empty and then poured cups of coffee for the priest and himself. Once they were seated, Father Mac asked, "So what did you want to talk about, Bill? Is everything going okay?" The young man looked around furtively and then said in a low voice, "Not really, Father Mac. Actually, I'm thinking about leaving the United Fund. This place has changed, and not for the better." Father Mac frowned and lowered his voice as well. "I'm sorry to hear that. What's the problem, Bill? What's going on?" "It's him, Father Mac, the new boss," he said conspiratorially. "He's a real micro-manager. He's got everybody looking over their shoulders, scared he's going to chew us out for not doing things exactly the way he wants them done." Father Mac gave a little shrug. "We both know Bob Allen was pretty easy-going when he was here, Bill. Are you sure this is not just a case of Harrison trying to tighten things up a little." Simpson shook his head emphatically. "It goes way beyond running a tight ship. The man is a petty tyrant. Everything has to be the way he wants it, when he wants it. If it isn't, he lets you and everyone else know about it." He leaned closer to the priest. "He's already run off a couple of people, and there are others besides me who are talking about leaving. I've been here eight years and want to stay, but I don't know how much longer I can stick it out." Father Mac shook his head. "That's very disturbing news, Bill. I had no idea things were like that." Simpson gestured to illustrate his point. "I know what the problem is, Father. He's got 'short-man syndrome.' He's like a Chihuahua - always barking at the top of his lungs because he wants everyone to see how fierce he is." He abruptly checked his wristwatch. "My break time is almost up, Father Mac. I've got to get back to my desk or I'll catch Hell for being late - no offense." "I'll walk back with you, Bill," the priest told his friend as he stood to leave. "Please keep me posted. And don't do anything hasty, okay?" The conversation troubled him, and he frowned as he started toward the entrance after leaving Bill. Looking up, he was startled to see the very person they'd just been discussing. The United Fund executive approached him rapidly. "Well, Father Mac," Harrison said in a hearty tone that rang false to the priest, "what a surprise to see you here. Are you conducting a surprise inspection?" The aggressive tone in the man's voice caught Father Mac off guard and he responded defensively, "No, Carter, not at all. Actually, I've been working with one of your people on the homeless issue. I just wanted to get some information from him, that's all." "I've got the latest homeless data in my office," Harrison said peremptorily. "Come this way." Father Mac felt he had no choice but to comply so he followed the diminutive figure warily. Once in the office, Harrison handed him a file, then looked at the priest carefully. "I hear you've been checking up on me," he said. "If you have any concerns about my work, you should come to me with them, Father." "No, Carter, I haven't been checking up on you," Father Mac said uncomfortably. "The United Fund is very important to this community, and I only wanted to see how it's going under the new regime." "I appreciate the interest, Father, but I think you'll find the organization is doing very well. From now on, if you need any further information, come to me and I'll take care of it for you." "Sure, Carter, sure," Father Mac said quickly. "I'll definitely do just that." Then he turned and made his way out of the building, wondering at the prickly reception he'd just received. "What did I do to get under his skin like that?" he asked himself. He was still put off by the episode when Colleen got home from work that evening, so when she mentioned that she'd spent part of the afternoon working with Harrison's task force, his ears pricked up. "Tell me," he asked his wife, "what's your take on Carter Harrison? How do you find him to work with?" he asked casually. "Honestly, he's a breath of fresh air. Usually, United Fund committee meetings drag on forever and never get anything accomplished. We've had two sessions of Carter's task force and not only have we agreed on a list of needs but he's also gotten everyone to buy into ways to address the issues." Colleen paused and then went on. "That's not to say that he hasn't stepped on a few toes in the process. He's very demanding and he doesn't suffer fools gladly. But I'll take that any day over people who talk problems to death and never get anything done about them." She stopped and looked at her husband. "Why do you ask? What have you heard?" Mac was reluctant to voice his own misgivings after Colleen's endorsement, so all he said was, "Well, Preston Charlton thinks he hung the moon. Apparently, he's getting a jump on the annual campaign by going after big donors in person. And Preston says it's working." "See," she said, "I told you he was a go-getter." "At the same time, I gather that he's rubbed some of the people in the United Fund office the wrong way," Mac added, curious to see what Colleen would say. "I'm not surprised," she said immediately. "I loved Bob Allen to death, but he acted more like a grandfather than the boss at that place. I like a man who knows what he wants and goes after it." "Well, right now you're looking at a man who wants his dinner," Mac said with a laugh, and the two of them headed to the kitchen to prepare a meal. * * * * * * * * * * That night Father Mac had the nightmare again. It was the same one that had haunted him off and on for a decade. Confession of Adultery From the closet she pulled out a silk suit that she felt was one of her best outfits. It was a designer label that she'd found at a thrift store and altered to fit. With an all-day meeting of the United Fund task force to attend, she wanted to look professional but smart. Before she slipped out of the house she left a note for Mac reminding him of her schedule and warning him that she might run late this evening. It was Carter Harrison's practice to hold his task force meetings offsite, and this time he'd booked a conference room at one of the nicest hotels in town. Colleen would never have dared do such a thing - she felt it was too extravagant - yet she understood the value of getting people to a neutral site, and she appreciated the higher quality of food and service the hotel provided. The session was a long one and the discussion occasionally became contentious. Through it all, Colleen was impressed by the way Harrison maintained control of the group and kept it on track. At the end of the day, he smoothly summed up their conclusions and then clearly laid out next steps and assigned tasks for follow-up. "He must have been a heck of a businessman," she thought admiringly. "We're lucky to have him." As the members of the task force began to leave, Harrison walked them out to the hotel lobby and made a point of speaking with each person, thanking him or her for their participation. When he came to Colleen, however, he leaned over and said quietly, "I want you to stay a little longer. There's something I need to discuss with you." Colleen was caught off guard by his request, but when she tried to ask him what he wanted, he stopped her. "This is not a good place for a discussion. The hotel provided me with a room to use for break-out sessions. Here's a key; it's room 514. Go on up and wait for me there. I'll be along in a few minutes." Then he walked away to speak to another member of their group, leaving Colleen standing there in surprise. After a moment she dutifully went to the elevator bank and rode up to the fifth floor. When she opened the door to the room, she found papers and a laptop computer arrayed on the small table. Not wanting to be nosy, she ignored them and sat on the loveseat to wait. As the time passed she kept wondering why the man wanted to see her. She had to admit that his strong personality made her somewhat uneasy. After what seemed like a long time, she heard a cardkey in the door, and she instinctively stood up as Harrison entered the room. Seeing her standing there he nodded approvingly. Without saying a word, the United Fund executive took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie; then he sat down on one corner of the bed facing her. Colleen started to seat herself on the loveseat, but Carter interrupted her. "No, remain standing," he said curtly. She was startled, but complied. "You're a very impressive woman, Colleen," he said after a moment. "As I listened to you today, it was clear that you were the most intelligent person in the group. More importantly, you're a natural leader. Time and again I saw the others looking to you for direction." Colleen blushed at the unexpected praise. To have someone so accomplished compliment her was extremely gratifying. But when she tried to demur modestly, he stopped her. "No, let me finish." He got up and walked around her, and she felt as though she were being inspected. Then he returned to his seat on the bed. "I can tell you've always been a leader. You're one of those people who are willing to take responsibility for making things happen. At your agency, I imagine your staff leans heavily on you for direction. In fact, I expect that they constantly turn to you to make almost every decision, even on the smallest matters." "If you only knew how true that is," Colleen thought to herself. "It's a wonder anything gets done when I'm not around." Carter stared directly into her eyes, and she felt as though he could read her thoughts. "But I know your little secret," Harrison went on. "I know that all that responsibility can be a terrible burden. It's a constant struggle when everyone else is dependent on you. I know that there have been times when you wished you could stop being responsible, when you longed for someone else to make decisions for you." She stared at him in shock. His words were like a key turning in the lock of her mind as she recognized the truth about herself. "How could he know that? I get so tired of being leaned on. How many times have I secretly wished I didn't have to be responsible?" He read her silent response and the corner of his mouth curled upward momentarily before he continued. "In your heart of hearts, the thing you want is for someone else to take the burden off of you, to turn responsibility over to another. You don't want to be in charge all the time; you want someone else to make decisions. You want to be told what to do, to submit to someone else's will for a change." As Colleen listened to him, she felt as though she was in a trance. He was telling her things she'd sensed before but never acknowledged. Now that he'd voiced them, she knew he was right. His words seemed to reverberate in her and she felt as though her body was quivering. A need was growing, filling her thoughts and overwhelming her reservations. The desire to submit became a living thing inside her, struggling to come out. Suddenly he stood up. "Take off your jacket," he commanded. She was startled and hesitated. "Do it now," he said firmly. "He took his jacket off," she rationalized, "so it's alright for me to do the same thing." She slipped the suit jacket off her shoulders and draped it over the loveseat. Then she turned back to face him, waiting nervously for what might come next. She didn't have to wait long. He folded his arms across his chest and looked at her sternly. "Now remove your blouse," he ordered. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes darted left and right as though looking for an escape. A little voice somewhere in her mind was protesting, but the roaring in her ears drowned it out. When she looked at him again and saw his uncompromising stare, she stopped thinking. Lowering her eyes in submission, she brought her fingers up and began to work the buttons. When she had finished and had slipped off the blouse, a shudder ran through her. Submissively, she kept her eyes fixed on the floor. "Now your skirt," he continued, and this time she responded as if on autopilot. "The bra too," he added, and she quickly reached behind her back to unclasp it. When the cups fell away from her breasts, she instinctively lifted her hands to cover herself. "No! Hands at your sides!" he barked, and she dropped them immediately. A wave of heat passed through her, and she wondered idly if she was blushing all over. It felt so humiliating to stand there wearing nothing but her panties and pantyhose, yet the shame sent a thrill through her. She heard someone breathing heavily and was surprised to realize it was herself. Abruptly he stepped up to her, raised his hands and cruelly pinched both her nipples. She gave a little shriek, but her reaction was more from surprise than pain. After the initial shock, the pain in her nipples seemed to shoot straight to her groin like an electric shock. She shivered again and involuntarily thrust her breasts toward him. He picked up on her response immediately. "This is what you want, you little slut. You want to be dominated and controlled. You want me to take you and do whatever I want to you," he sneered. There were tears in her eyes as his fingers continued to torment her nipples, but at the same time she found herself panting with desire. Abruptly he grabbed her by the shoulders and maneuvered her around to the loveseat. Then he pushed her down roughly so that she was forced to bend over the arm. He bent down behind her, grabbed two handfuls of her pantyhose and ripped a large hole in them. Then he slid his hand into her panties and yanked them to one side. "You little whore," he laughed. "Your panties are completely soaked. You're loving this, aren't you? Now, reach back and pull your ass cheeks apart." Without hesitation she did as he ordered. As she lay there with her face pressed against the seat cushions, a picture of how she must look filled her mind. The thought sent another wave of humiliation flooding over her, but the image only seemed to drive her arousal higher. She had no say in the matter, no decisions to make, nothing to do but submit to the will of the man behind her. This was what she wanted - no, this was what she needed. Distantly she heard the sound of a zipper, and then she felt his cock poking at her exposed pussy. When it hit her clitoris she gave a little squeal. Then he found her opening and forced himself into her as she gasped. "He's using me," she thought distractedly. "I'm helpless - he can do anything he wants to me." This was not the way she and Mac made love. There was no gentle build-up, no tender caresses or loving words. Carter simply grabbed her hips and began to pound into her, thrusting his cock as fast and as deep as he could. This wasn't lovemaking, it was pure animal rutting. To her astonishment she realized that she loved the ferocity and that she was responding like never before. As if his assault wasn't enough, Carter began to slap her buttocks with his hand, causing her to yelp with each stinging blow. Yet just as when he'd pinched her nipples, the pain seemed to amplify the sexual sensations, pushing her to a whole new level of arousal. She heard herself crying out with every thrust of his hungry cock, and to her surprise she realized that she was already on the brink of an orgasm. Her head arched up off the couch and she cried out repeatedly in ecstasy. Finally her straining muscles went slack and she collapsed on the arm of the loveseat. But Carter wasn't through with her; if anything his thrusts accelerated, and soon Colleen was crying out again. She'd never had more than one orgasm during intercourse, but now she knew without doubt that she was rapidly climbing that sexual peak a second time. At that moment Carter ran his hands over her ass and suddenly plunged his middle finger into her asshole, causing Colleen to scream. His intrusion wasn't as painful as it was surprising: no one had ever played with her there before. She felt him rotate his finger and then begin thrusting it into her in time with his cock. The sensation was strange but powerful; never had she been so violated, never had she felt so full. A moment later she felt him withdraw his finger only to return with two. Her sphincter muscle protested this new intrusion, but soon it yielded to the invasion. Vaguely Colleen wondered where he had gotten the lubricant she felt on his fingers, but then the sensations she was experiencing obliterated all such thoughts, leaving only the intermingled sensation of pleasure and pain. Suddenly Harrison jerked his fingers out of her bottom and pulled his cock out of her pussy, causing her to moan as the sensations halted. She could feel him adjusting himself behind her, and it suddenly came to her: "He's going to fuck me in the ass!" A part of her rebelled at the thought and she started to lift off the loveseat, but his hand quickly forced her back down, keeping her vulnerable and exposed. Then his cock was right there, pressing itself upon her until something seemed to give way and he popped inside. She screamed, but he paid no attention and continued to push deeper and deeper into her anal cavity. When he bottomed out, he held motionless for a minute, allowing her body to adjust. Slowly she felt the initial pain wear off, leaving only a sense of pressure and fullness unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Just as she was beginning to relax, he pulled back an inch or two, causing her to gasp out loud. Then he thrust in again, pressing her face into the cushion. "Oh, God," she thought wildly, "this is so filthy, so wrong." But there was nothing she could do to stop his assault, and once again she found herself submitting to his will. Soon his thrusts grew more vigorous and his strokes lengthened. To her astonishment she felt her buttocks tensing and she realized she was lifting up on her toes in anticipation, reaching up to invite the full force of his cock. Sweat poured off of her and she heard herself panting and gasping once more. Then Harrison reached around her thighs and began probing her pussy through her panties. When his fingers found her clitoris he began to pinch it in time with the thrusting of his cock. As he stimulated both her pussy and her ass, Colleen lost all control. She was screaming now, not caring who might hear her or what they might think. Her last coherent thought was, "This can't be happening!" Then she exploded into an even bigger orgasm than her first one. Repeatedly she cried out at the top of her lungs as she spasmed over and over again. Finally she heard Harrison grunting behind her. He slammed into her harder and harder until finally he ejaculated deep within her bowels. When the after-spasms had stopped, he lay draped across her back for several minutes. Then he straightened up, pulled up his boxers and suit pants, and walked to the bathroom. Colleen could only continue to lie across the arm of the loveseat, unable to move. When she heard Harrison return, she slowly turned her head to look at him. His tie had been re-knotted and his suit was immaculate; his appearance gave no sign that anything untoward had happened. He looked at her without expression. "The room is paid for. Leave whenever you like." With that he gathered up his laptop and papers and strode out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him. Gingerly she stood up and tottered to the bathroom. In the mirror she saw a woman she didn't recognize. Her make-up was smudged, her hair was a mess, she had sweat streaks running down her face and her panties were sticking out through her ruined pantyhose. As she set about repairing the damage as best she could, she couldn't stop peering into her eyes. "Who am I? What have I done?" she kept asking herself. Finally satisfied that she had done all she could to make her appearance normal, she prepared to depart. After retrieving her purse, she walked to the door, opened it cautiously and peeked out to see if anyone was in the hallway. When she saw it was clear, she hurriedly pulled the door to behind her and scurried to the elevators. As she was waiting, a maid emerged from a room, pushing her cleaning cart. As she passed Colleen, she gave her a strange look. "Oh, God," Colleen thought, "I wonder if she heard us?" Thankfully, the elevator door opened at that moment, and Colleen hurried inside. Colleen drove home in a daze, her mind filled with images of what had just happened back at the hotel. "How could I have done that?" she kept asking herself. "Why didn't I stop him?" The humiliation of standing naked in front of a fully-clothed Carter Harrison kept haunting her. The picture of her compliant body lewdly draped over the arm of the loveseat tortured her. But what bothered her most was the way she had thrilled to the entire experience. She couldn't believe the way she had acted, but she couldn't deny the levels of ecstasy she'd reached. But as she drove into their neighborhood, her attention shifted to Mac and she was filled with guilt. "I just committed adultery," she thought in horror. "Oh, God, I can't believe I cheated on Mac. I love him so much - how could I do that to him?" Knowing that she would have to face him in a few minutes filled her with dread. "He'll know right away what I've done," she imagined, and she began to cry in self-pity. But as she neared the house, she angrily wiped the tears from her cheeks. "It's a little too late for those now, you tramp!" she told herself. Yet when she went in and found that Mac had already prepared dinner for the two of them, she began to panic. The idea of sitting across the table from him after what she had just done was more than she could bear. "Honey, I don't feel very well," she told him. "My throat is sore and I think I might be coming down with something. I'm going to skip dinner, get in bed and see if a good night's sleep will help me fight this off." Mac was concerned about her, but she assured him she would be alright and urged him not to let his own dinner get cold. When he finally went back to the table, she slipped off to the bedroom, pulled the door closed, got undressed and climbed into bed. When Mac came to check on her later, she pretended to be asleep, but her guilt kept her awake for a long time. The next morning, Mac awoke before Colleen, and he decided to let her sleep late. "It won't hurt for her to be a little late. Heck, if she's coming down with something, she needs to stay home all day. They can live without her for once." But he was surprised to get a call at the rectory from Colleen before noon. She told him that a night's sleep had done her a world of good and she felt up to going into work. Mac smiled to himself. "She's always so responsible- wouldn't think about missing a day of work." * * * * * * * * * * Two days later, Mac was working on his sermon in his office when Mrs. Moore, a widow in the congregation who volunteered as church secretary, buzzed him. "There's a Mr. Harrison here who'd like to see you. He says he knows you." "Oh, yes, Carter Harrison. Please send him back." When Mrs. Moore showed Harrison in, Mac rose to shake the man's hand. "This is a surprise, Carter. What can I do for you? Are things going well at the United Fund?" "Everything's fine there, but I'm not here on United Fund business, Father Mac. This is more of a personal matter." "I see. Let me just push the door to so we won't be disturbed. Now, what did you want to discuss?" "Father Mac, what is the Episcopal Church's position on confession?" Harrison asked. Mac was startled but he tried not to show it. "Well, the confession of sins is an integral part of our worship. Since we are all sinners, the entire congregation makes a general confession as part of the Eucharist, morning prayer and other services." "But what about the private confession of sins by an individual? Does the Episcopal Church do that?" Harrison pressed. "We do sometimes," Father Mac conceded, "but it's not very common. Unlike our Roman Catholic brethren, we don't have a confessional or anything like that. But I have heard a few confessions when a parishioner felt it would be of help to them." "I see," Harrison nodded. "I've also heard that confessions are strictly confidential, that a priest can never discuss what he hears in a confession with anyone else. Is that really true?" "What you're talking about is called the 'Seal of the Confession'. Put simply, that means that any sin confessed to a priest must be held in inviolable confidence. The priest must maintain that confidence under all circumstances, even after the death of the person who made the confession." Mac paused and looked at Harrison carefully. "Carter, are you here to make a confession?" "Yes, Father Mac, I think I'd like to do that. So what do we do next? You said there was no confession box here - do we go into the sanctuary?" Mac smiled, "We believe where a confession is made is irrelevant. St. Ann's is pretty low-church Episcopal, and I prefer to keep things fairly informal. The few times I've heard a personal confession I've done it in my office. We're less likely to be disturbed that way." "That's good," Harrison agreed. "I definitely want to keep this just between you and me." "Very well," Mac said, "we can get started. When I've heard confession before, the person who sought it had done something that weighed heavily on his or her conscience, and they were looking for absolution to ease that burden. Is that how you feel?" Confession of Adultery "Oh, yes," Harrison agreed quickly. "Alright then, what is it you wish to confess?" Harrison leaned toward Father Mac and stared intently at him. "I want to confess the sin of adultery," he said in a clear voice. Father Mac hesitated. "I don't understand, Carter, I thought that you were divorced," Father Mac said, and then caught himself. "Oh, I see, you mean that you had sexual relations with a married woman," he said. "That's right," Harrison said, "I seduced another man's wife." Then he gave a half-smile. "Do you want me to tell you the name of the woman?" "No," Father Mac said, "not if you don't want to." "I'd rather not, Father, because you know her." The thought that an acquaintance was involved saddened Father Mac, but he put that aside to focus on the man before him. Harrison's tone seemed almost smug, and that irritated Father Mac. "If you knew it was wrong, why did you do it?" he asked sharply. "Oh, the usual reasons, I guess," Harrison said casually. "I could tell that she was ripe, as they say, and I guess I just couldn't resist the temptation to pluck her." Father Mac looked at Harrison carefully, wondering if the man was making some kind of joke. "Carter, I have to say that for a man making a confession you don't seem very penitent." "Oh, no, Father, I did a terrible thing to that woman, and I know it." Harrison's statement still didn't sound very remorseful, but Father Mac decided to let it go. "Very well, is there anything else you need to confess?" "No, Father, just one mortal sin for today. So what do I do now, say some 'Hail Mary's' or "Our Father's'?" That flippant tone of voice was still there, but Father Mac decided not to call Harrison on it. "You can if you wish, but I'd rather you spend some time thinking about what you've done and the harm it can cause to everyone involved, not the least to yourself." He picked up a copy of The Book of Common Prayer and handed it to the man. "I'd also like you to find some quiet time and turn to the service of the Holy Eucharist. Find the general Confession of Sin, read it, and then incorporate it into your own prayers. And you ought to go to your Bible and refresh yourself on the Ten Commandments, especially the seventh." Harrison took the book from Father Mac and nodded. Then he smiled at the priest and stood up. "I'm glad I did this, Father Mac. I feel so much better." With that he turned and left. Father Mac returned to his desk and tried to make sense of what had just happened. He was surprised that Harrison had sought him out in the first place. Mac had never seen him at St. Ann's before, and as far as he knew, the man didn't attend church anywhere else. His request for confession was an even greater surprise, but Father Mac had seen enough of humanity to know how unpredictable any given individual could be. At the same time, he was disappointed to learn what Harrison had done. All men are fallible, as Mac knew full well, but he still felt that a man in Harrison's position had a special obligation to act in a responsible manner. When Harrison's adultery was discovered, as Mac felt would likely happen, what repercussions would it have on the people involved? Worse, would it adversely impact the United Fund itself? He fervently hoped that Harrison wasn't involved with one of his employees or an employee's wife - that could tear apart the whole organization. "Why can't people think with their brains rather than their glands?" he thought regretfully. But over and above all these considerations, what kept nagging at Mac was the disconnect between what Harrison said he wanted and his attitude. "Why would he want to confess his sin if he wasn't serious?" Father Mac asked himself. "If he was truly penitent, why didn't he act like it?" All these concerns made him wish that he could discuss them with someone else. But he knew he could never share what he'd learned with anyone - the burden was singularly on his shoulders. "Sometimes being a priest isn't as much fun as it's cracked up to be," he thought wryly. * * * * * * * * * * The next few days proved trying for Colleen. At work she found herself frequently distracted, so much so that several of her staff members asked if she was feeling well. At home she had trouble sleeping, and when she did manage to drop off, her dreams were haunted. Twice she woke up to discover her hand buried between her legs. Even worse, she felt distant from Mac, and that frightened her. Mac had always been exactly what Colleen had wanted: a loving and caring man who was always there for her. So why was it that now she needed something else? Finally, at the end of a long and difficult day, she picked up the phone and made a call. She was almost trembling while she waited for an answer. When the secretary put her through, Carter Harrison answered silkily, "Good afternoon, Ms. O'Reilly. What can I do for you today?" Colleen's throat tightened and her mouth went dry. She forced herself to speak, but her voice came out in a whisper. "Carter, I need to see you again." There was silence on the line for a moment, and then his voice came through in a tone that made her think of snakes. "Would you repeat that please, Ms. O'Reilly?" "He's playing with me," she realized. "He heard me the first time." Nevertheless, she swallowed and tried again. "Mr. Harrison . . . Sir. I need to see you again. I . . . I really need you." When she heard him laugh she shuddered. * * * * * * * * * * The weekends were always busy for Father Mac. Inevitably there were last-minute preparations for Sunday's services, a final edit to his sermon, calls from the Altar Guild about the floral arrangements, parents of acolytes calling to notify him about a sick child, and a last check with the choir leader. The list seemed endless, so when Colleen told him on Friday that she would need to go in to work on Saturday afternoon, Mac was actually grateful. When she was at home he felt an obligation to devote attention to her, and on Saturdays like this one that would be difficult if not impossible. When she returned home later that evening, Mac was shocked by Colleen's appearance. Her face was drawn and she seemed stiff and achy. Once when she sat down too quickly on the couch, she gave a little yelp. He asked what was wrong but she dismissed his concerns. "I think my period may be coming early this month, that's all," she told him. Once again she went to bed early without eating anything, and Mac made a mental note to insist that she see her doctor for a check-up. On Sunday she didn't feel up to attending either Morning Prayer or Mass, and that only fueled Mac's concern. After the last parishioner had left the parking lot at St. Ann's, Mac hurried home, stopping only to pick up some fast food that he knew Colleen liked. When he got there he was greatly relieved to find his wife up and about. The color in her face had returned and she told him that a hot shower and a couple of aspirin had taken care of her achiness. When he brought up the idea of a medical check-up, she dismissed the idea out of hand. "It was probably nothing more than a 24-hour virus," she told him. "I'm fine now." Mac was convinced enough of that she was okay to attend the Vestry meeting scheduled for that evening, but he couldn't stop worrying entirely. Colleen had always been so strong; the thought of something being wrong with her was deeply disturbing. "What would I do without her?" he asked himself. As he drove over to the church, he remembered the first time he'd met Colleen. The Marines had sent him home following his breakdown. Still struggling to deal with everything that had happened, he finally decided to use the G. I. Bill to go to divinity school. It was there that he'd had his first nightmare, and it shook him so badly that he'd gone to Student Health in the middle of the night. That was where he'd met Colleen. He had been waiting to see a doctor; she was waiting on a friend who had gotten food poisoning. The two of them began to talk, and after a while Mac decided that he didn't need to see a doctor after all. The pretty little brunette Social Work student had listened to his story and calmed him with her quiet concern. She in turn was fascinated by this gentle man who, despite the horror and violence of war, felt a calling for something greater than himself. A week later the two of them ran into one another on campus, and Mac seized the opportunity to get her number. Soon the two of them were seeing each other, and in their senior year they were married in the Divinity School chapel. She'd been there for him ever since. * * * * * * * * * * If weekends were hectic for Mac, Monday's tended to be his slow day. He was cleaning up his desk to go home that afternoon when Mrs. Moore buzzed him. "That nice Mr. Harrison is back to see you, Father Mac," she warbled. "Shall I show him in?" With all his concern about Colleen, the enigma of Carter Harrison had completely slipped Mac's mind. Now here he was back again. He gave a sigh and asked Mrs. Moore to bring the man back to the office. When she had done so, she reminded Father Mac that she was leaving for the day. After he thanked her and wished her a good evening, Father Mac turned back to his visitor. "Hello, Carter. I hope your visit today is for a different reason than last time." Harrison gave him a solemn look. "I'm afraid not, Father Mac. I have a new sin to confess to you. I'm afraid I committed adultery with the same woman again." Mac looked at him suspiciously, trying to understand the man and his motives. "Are you sure you're not making this up, Carter?" he demanded. "Oh, no, Father, it's all true. Why would I make up such a thing?" "If it is true, then I'm very disappointed in you, Carter. I had hoped that when you came to confess before you were truly remorseful. But repeating the same sin is hardly a sign of contrition. Forget about yourself for a minute and think about what you're doing to this woman and her family." "I do think about that, Father, and I'm very aware where my actions could lead. But I really don't think I'm entirely to blame this time. She came on to me - she told me that she needed me desperately, that I unlocked something inside her that she didn't know she had. You see, I . . ." "Carter, I don't want to hear about your sexual prowess or how this woman can't live without you. The purpose of confession is to admit your sins and dedicate yourself to living a better life. If you can't do that, then I can't help you." "I'm sorry I disappoint you, Father. I'm afraid I'm only human." Harrison stood up and made for the door. As he reached for the door knob, he turned to look back at the priest. "But I can tell you one thing: talking to you about this has made me feel a whole lot better." Mac stared at him as Harrison left, then began to pace angrily about his tiny office. He felt as though he were the butt of some practical joke he didn't understand. "What was that all about? Is he angry with the Church? Is he trying to get back at it by mocking the sacraments? Is he making all this up to make me look foolish? Or could he sincerely be regretful about what he's done and just doesn't know how to express himself? Whatever is going on, I don't get it, and I don't like it." If Harrison was playing some sort of game - and Mac conceded that he couldn't be positive that was the case - it was a game he didn't want to play. There were real people out there in his congregation and in his city who needed help, who wanted spiritual comfort. Those were the people Mac became a priest to serve, not Carter Harrison, whoever he was. Over and above his own disquiet, what bothered Mac the most were the implications for the United Fund. Mac had been active in the organization for many years and felt it played a vital role in the community. "It needs a leader with vision and compassion, not someone who wants to waste time playing games with a parish priest," he thought angrily. He felt that he should alert Preston Charlton or someone else on the United Fund Board of Trustees about his concerns about Harrison, but he could see no way to do so without mentioning the man's confessions. It was a conundrum for which Mac had no solution. * * * * * * * * * * While Mac was wrestling with his dilemma, his wife was dealing with one of her own. Ever since her first sexual encounter with Carter Harrison, Colleen's conscience had been flaying her for her betrayal of Mac. Her husband was the best man she'd ever met. Not only was he devoted to his congregation and his community but she knew for certain that he was devoted to her. Yet Harrison had somehow managed to tempt her to cheat. He'd taken her to levels of sexual ecstasy she'd never previously experienced, and now she felt like an addict needing more. One minute she would curse herself for her weakness and swear she'd have nothing more to do with Carter ever again. The next minute she'd find herself replaying their two sessions in her mind and throb with desire for more. She hated the man but she needed him too. Desperately she tried to resist calling him again. As she sat at her desk, beset by her conflicting emotions, she was startled by her telephone. When she answered, she was startled again to hear Carter Harrison's voice. He didn't bother with social pleasantries; his tone was curt and demanding. "Make some excuse to your husband. You're going to meet me at the beach this weekend. Leave before noon on Saturday and drive straight to the Royal Sands Hotel. Don't bother to bring any underwear." "But, but . . ." Colleen stuttered. "You heard me. Just do it," Harrison commanded, and abruptly hung up. That evening when Mac got home, Colleen could tell that something was on his mind. She'd always been able to read him well, but when she asked him about it, he dismissed her concerns. "It's nothing important, just a little problem with one of the parishioners." When he didn't offer any more information, Colleen decided not to pursue the issue because she had one of her own to advance. "Have you got a problem if I go out of town this weekend? My sister called and asked me to come visit." "There's nothing wrong with Megan, is there?" Mac asked. "No," Colleen said. "It's just that we haven't seen each other in a while and she wanted to get together." She paused and then added, "We'll probably drive over to the beach - Megan wants to go there one more time before the end of the season." "That's no problem, babe," Mac said. "Give her my best." That night Mac had trouble getting to sleep as he continued to dither about his encounter with Carter Harrison. Finally he decided that although he couldn't say anything to anyone, he had an obligation to try to find out how things were going at the United Fund. "I'll pay a visit there tomorrow morning and see what I can learn," he thought, and that decision allowed him to relax enough to sleep. Colleen also had trouble sleeping, and Carter Harrison was also the cause. The need to submit to him, to experience the sexual thrill of his dominance was a compulsion she could not withstand. She lay in bed trying to rationalize her behavior. "It's just a fling," she told herself. "Lots of people do it. It doesn't mean anything." She promised herself she would pursue it only long enough to get it out of her system and then return to her "normal" life. A few minutes later she decided she must be a sex addict, struggling with her compulsion. If it was an illness, she thought, then she wasn't really responsible for her actions. But she dealt with addicts and people who rationalized their negative behavior all the time at the Women's Shelter; she felt like a hypocrite for trying to use the same shallow excuses for herself. Feeling defensive, she finally decided that Mac's role in the church and the community put an unfair level of pressure on her. "It's not fair to expect me to be perfect all the time. Besides," she thought, "Mac's too nice, too considerate. Sometimes I feel smothered." But she'd known the kind of man Mac was when she married him. And when she was honest with herself, those characteristics were what had attracted her to him in the first place. What hurt the worst was knowing how much Mac needed her. When she'd met him she found a lost soul, a vet struggling to deal with the aftermath of war. Her most vivid memory from those days was the night he'd broken down and told her the story of the death of his best friend. His story frightened her, mainly because she couldn't believe this gentle man had been such a cold-hearted killer. But he'd shown her the medal they gave him, and when he took her to Section 60 in Arlington to see Rico's grave, she knew what he'd told her was true. Yet at the same time she was impressed that, although injured and vulnerable, he had chosen to try to work out his issues in divinity school. As she grew to know him better, she saw a kind and caring person, and she believed she could help him regain his confidence and fulfill the promise she saw in him. And he'd done so. She took quiet pride in knowing that she'd helped him rise from the ashes of the war to become someone who was widely looked up to in the community, even as he maintained his quiet, unassuming nature. Yet she'd heard his nightmares and she could tell that he was still fragile. She knew that he relied on her strength and support as an ongoing bulwark against any threats to his stability. It was for that reason that she was so deeply ashamed of what she was doing. She knew she wasn't just breaking her wedding vows, she was risking the well-being of this man who depended on her. If Mac had happened to check his wife's pillowcase the next morning, he would have found it very damp. Once he got to his office at St. Ann's the next morning, Father Mac called Bill Simpson at the United Fund and made an appointment to see him that afternoon. Mac wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he hoped he might gain some insight into Carter Harrison's strange behavior. As he was walking down the corridor toward Bill's cubicle, he was surprised to see Carter Harrison coming the other direction. Remembering his last encounter, Father Mac tensed as Carter approached, but the man merely said, "When you get through with your meeting, Father Mac, please come see me in my office. I have something to share with you." Unwillingly, Father Mac agreed. He would have preferred that Carter not know he was in the building. Now he felt he couldn't discuss the situation with Bill for fear of getting the staffer in trouble. Frustrated, he had a brief discussion with Bill on the homeless problem, and then reluctantly made his way to Harrison's office. When he came to Harrison's door, the man waved him in and closed the door behind him. When Harrison returned to sit behind his desk in his high-backed executive chair, Father Mac saw that the desk sat on a platform about eight inches high, making any visitor have to look up to Harrison. Father Mac mentally shook his head at such an obvious ploy, but he said nothing. Harrison sat there looking smugly at the priest. Father Mac kept silent, and finally Harrison spoke up. "I know we aren't in your office, Father Mac, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to make one last confession." Father Mac looked at him sharply. "Carter, I told you before that I don't want to hear your confession if you're not sincere." "But this is different," Harrison said with a smirk. "I haven't committed this sin yet. I just wanted to confess that I'm going to do so this weekend. My lover and I are going to the beach together, and we will definitely indulge in all sorts of adulterous behavior. I just thought I should confess now so I won't have to trouble you later." Father Mac stood up angrily. "Let me be as clear as possible: I will pray for your salvation, but I cannot serve as your confessor any longer. You're making a mockery of a sacred rite, and I won't be a part of it." Confession of Adultery With that he turned and walked out of Harrison's office. His last view of Harrison was of the man laughing behind his desk. As he walked out the door, Father Mac struggled to control his temper. The man was impossible! He had no desire to confess his sins -he wanted to boast about them! But why would he want to do that? Mac wondered if Harrison might have a mental illness. * * * * * * * * * * On Saturday morning, Colleen seemed anxious to get started on her weekend getaway. Mac broke away from his regular Saturday routine long enough to see her off. He noticed that she seemed preoccupied but he attributed that to her eagerness to see her sister. Nevertheless, he made a special point of trying to connect with her before she left. "Drive carefully, babe," he urged her. Then he hugged her and added, "I miss you when you're not here." She hugged him back perfunctorily and then hurried to get behind the wheel. As she started the engine, he called out, "I love you, Colleen," but by then she was backing out of the driveway, and didn't hear him. Mac returned inside, feeling vaguely disquieted. As he walked back in the house, his unease mounted, although he wasn't sure why. Then an insidious thought struck him: "Harrison said he was taking his lover to the beach!" He tried to dismiss his suspicion as soon as it came to mind. "It's just a coincidence; lots of people go to the beach," he told himself. "Colleen would never cheat on me, and certainly not with someone like Carter Harrison. Harrison's weird behavior has gotten to me and I'm just being neurotic." But once it had arisen the idea kept eating away at him, and he found himself unable to concentrate on his Sunday sermon. No matter how hard he tried to shove the doubt away, it wouldn't leave him alone. Finally he put down his sermon and reached for his phone to call Colleen, intending to settle his fears. But he hesitated because he couldn't think what to say. "What am I going to ask: 'Are you going to the beach to screw Carter Harrison?' If she denies it, can I believe her? She's hardly likely to just admit it. And what if it's not true? Then she'll know I don't trust her, and that will cause a major rift between us." As he sat there wavering, he suddenly came up with another solution. All he had to do was to call Megan. If she confirmed that Colleen was coming for a visit, he could relax, knowing that this had all been what he devoutly hoped: a bout of paranoia inflamed by his animosity toward Harrison. But as he started to call his sister, he hesitated once again. "If I ask if she invited Colleen to come for a visit, Megan will know something's wrong and tell Colleen I've been checking up on her. I don't want to start trouble if everything is okay." Then another ugly thought struck him. "What if Megan knows and is providing cover for her?" Again he set his phone down, but his anxiety was raging out of control. Finally he realized he had to do something or go mad. In desperation he came up with a flimsy excuse for calling and then punched his sister-in-law's number into the phone. Megan picked up the phone almost immediately, and the display must have told her who was calling. "Hi, Mac," she answered pleasantly, "long time no talk." Then a note of apprehension came to her voice. "You're not calling about Colleen, are you? She's okay, isn't she?" "No, no, she's fine, Megan" Mac said hastily, ashamed that he had unnecessarily alarmed her. He hurried on, "It's just that you haven't been down to see us in a long time. I wish you'd plan a visit." She audibly relaxed. "I know you're right, Mac. I've been so busy lately that it's been hard to get away. In fact I'm leaving for New York in an hour and won't be back for a week. But things ought to slow down next month, so maybe I can get down there to see you two then. I'd love to catch up with you and Colleen. Hey, is she around? I'd love to chat with her for a few minutes." Megan's response squeezed Mac's chest like an angina attack. Leaving in an hour? Gone for a week? As the import of her words sank in, Mac felt paralyzed, unable to talk. After a moment, Megan said, "Mac, Mac, are you still there?" "Sorry, Megan, I, uh, dropped the phone. Listen, Colleen is out right now. I'll tell her to call you when she gets back." "That would be great, Mac. And ask her to check her calendar and see what next month looks like." The two exchanged farewells. Once he had hung up, Mac could only sit there in shock. Colleen had lied to him! She couldn't be spending the weekend with her sister because her sister was leaving town. Carter Harrison's mocking confession came back to him, and Mac now felt certain he knew where his wife was really headed. In that moment Mac experienced the same agony he'd felt the day he helplessly watched Rico lying in the street waiting to die. Once again the most important person in his world was being taken from him. "I can't stand it!" he cried in anguish. It wasn't just Colleen's love that he was losing, he realized despairingly, but also her strength. When he'd returned Stateside after the war, he'd felt completely lost. Then Colleen had come into his life and become his rock. She'd lent him her strength so he could begin to heal, and she'd continued to be strong for him throughout their marriage. Now all that was gone. His pain was unbearable. After a while, his grief and pain began to change to anger. "How could she do this to me?" he thought bitterly. "I tried to be a good husband. What did she want from me? She always said she loved me, loved being married to me. How could she turn around and betray me like this?" His thoughts turned to Carter Harrison's so-called "confessions" and his anger turned to rage. "That little bastard has been using Colleen to humiliate me! He wanted me to know what he was doing yet be helpless to say anything! Why does he hate me so much? What did I ever do to him?" But then he realized that Harrison couldn't have done anything without Colleen. "How did he get to her? Did he seduce her or drug her? Could he have blackmailed her somehow?" Then a truly sickening thought hit him. "Was she the one who started the affair? Did she come on to him?" At that his stomach lurched and he barely made it to the bathroom before he was violently ill. Strangely, losing his breakfast had the result of helping Mac think more clearly. First, regardless of how it had happened, it now seemed clear that Colleen had betrayed him. Not only was she cheating on him this weekend, but if Harrison's confessions had any truth in them, this was actually the third time she had had done so. When Mac recalled his wife's behavior during the last couple of weeks, he was inclined to believe that was true. Second, he now saw that whatever motivated Carter Harrison to cuckold him went way beyond lust. If the little man had merely wanted to commit adultery with Colleen, he would not have "confessed" it. For whatever reason, Harrison seemed to have declared war on Mac. What was worse, by "confessing" his sins, Harrison had put Mac at a strategic disadvantage. Colleen's behavior was suspicious, but the fact that she'd lied about visiting her sister wasn't proof that she was cheating. It had only been Harrison's confessions that led him to that conclusion. But he was loath to reveal what Harrison had told him to anyone else. "The 'confession' may have been a joke to Carter, but it was real to me. If I tell someone I'm breaking my oath to God." "But it wasn't a true confession," he thought. "Harrison felt no remorse, he wasn't seeking absolution. Why should I have to keep silent?" Still, the thought of breaching the shield of the confessional deeply troubled him. "Do I have the right to decide whether a confession is valid or not? Does motive make a difference? Or am I rationalizing simply because I don't like what he told me? Other priests have kept confessions of terrible crimes confidential; how can I justify breaking my vow just because his confession involves my wife?" Unable to solve the dilemma, Mac decided to do some detective work. There was no way he could hire a real detective on a priest's salary, but there was one other way he could try to check on Colleen. He had little doubt about what he would find, but he felt he owed it to his wife to try. He went on the Internet and quickly found a listing of resort hotels at the beach. There was quite a number, but, on a hunch, Mac searched on the basis of room rates and then called the most expensive. When the operator at the Royal Sands answered, Mac asked if Mr. and Mrs. Carter Harrison had checked in yet. After a moment, the operator confirmed that they had indeed arrived and asked if Mac wanted to ring their room. He paused for a moment, wondering if he should ask for Colleen and try to talk her into coming home. But even if she agreed to do so, he realized that the fact she was there meant it was too late. "No," he said in a defeated voice, "there's no need." He slumped back in his chair, his last hope gone. As he sat there heartbroken, a new source of shame hit him. "I've forgotten to ask God for help," he realized with dismay. Quickly he bowed his head and tried to pray, asking for divine guidance or at least consolation. In the past his faith had provided meaning and direction to his life, but this time he found no help. The prayers he'd relied on so often now felt empty and meaningless. The tenets of the church seemed hollow and pointless. When he tried to recall some words of the Bible, the only text he could think of was the 22nd Psalm: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" The failure seemed like the final blow to him. "What kind of priest am I if God has abandoned him?" he asked himself in despair. "I've truly lost everything: my wife, my marriage and now my faith." In the depths of his sorrow, Mac's thoughts turned back to what happened after Rico died. Confession of Adultery Carter had calmly proceeded to order room service for dinner, and when the bellboy arrived with his cart, Carter insisted that he wheel it into the bedroom. Colleen, who had been in the bathroom, had to scramble into bed and pull the sheets up to cover her nakedness while the young man laid out their food with a barely concealed smirk. A similar scene occurred when Carter called for the plates to be taken away. Afterwards they sat in bed, digesting their dinner while a bondage flick played on the adult pay-per-view channel on their television. When it was over, Carter's face took on an evil smile. "I think I'm inspired," he told Colleen, "but I guess we'll have to do something so we don't provoke another visit from the manager." With that he held up a ball gag and quickly forced it into Colleen's mouth. She screamed many times in the next few hours, but there wasn't a single complaint from the management. When Colleen finally woke on Sunday, she groggily glanced at the clock on the nightstand and then sat bolt upright in bed. "Oh, no, I'm late for church!" she thought agitatedly; then she looked around at her surroundings and remembered where she was. As she plopped back in bed, she felt a jolt of guilt, but she brushed it aside. She'd had no idea what to expect next from Carter, but after lunch he simply informed her that they were going to enjoy the beach. She blushed when she saw the swimsuit he handed her to wear. It was a thin white one-piece that had had all modesty inserts removed. Since it was a size too small for her, it clung to her body like a second skin, and she knew instantly that it would become transparent the moment it got wet. They spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach, alternately sunbathing and walking back and forth by the ocean. It was hard to tell if Colleen was blushing or simply sunburned because she stayed a constant shade of red at the looks she provoked. If she had been nude, she realized, she would probably have drawn fewer stares. As it was, the men's eyes bored holes into her as they tried to make out every detail of her body that the suit revealed. At the same time, many of the women stared daggers at her revealing display, and several mothers angrily dragged their children away when they caught them gaping at her. Carter loved it all and forced her to walk slightly in front of him to give everyone the best possible view. She felt like a slave girl being paraded through the market. It was a good thing her suit was wet, she decided, because otherwise her arousal would be glaringly obvious. After they had returned to their suite and cleaned up, Carter surprised her by taking her to dinner at the upscale dining room in the hotel. Good food, expensive wine and an after-dinner liqueur all put Colleen in a mellow mood, and she began to look forward to showing her gratitude when they returned to their room. But no sooner had the door clicked shut than Carter grabbed her and ripped the dress off of her. Then he forced the ball gag back in her mouth, dragged her over to the bed and once again bound her arms and legs so that she was face-down and spread-eagled. Then, to complete his domination, he slipped a sleep mask over her head, leaving her to lie their helplessly, wondering what would happen to her next. What would happen next was a long period of abuse alternating with erotic manipulation. In addition to his cat o' nine tails and riding crop, Carter also produced a Hitachi wand that he used to bring her body repeatedly to the brink of an orgasm, only to replace it with punishment that truthfully she enjoyed almost as much. As she lay there squirming after an extended session that left her almost delirious with arousal, she was startled to hear a knock on the door. She felt certain that her outcries hadn't disturbed anyone since she could hardly hear her own screams through the gag. When the door closed moments later, Colleen could have sworn she heard a second set of footsteps. But the sleep mask made it impossible for her to do anything but cock her ears, hoping for some clue as to what was to happen next. Then she felt the bonds around her ankles being loosened, and she was soon bound only by her wrists. A moment later she felt a body depress the mattress behind her, and she was frightened as she realized that the body was much larger than Carter's. Then an extremely large pair of hands grabbed her hips and easily pulled her up into the doggy position. "Who is it? Who's there?" she yelled, but barely a whimper made it past the gag. Then she felt something large and blunt prodding at her labia, and she thought for a second that it was the wand again. But the warmth and texture she felt quickly told her this was something else indeed. Then the largest cock she had ever felt thrust into her, and she was stretched wider than she thought possible. She screamed even as it kept on thrusting, deeper and deeper until she felt it pass her cervix and into her womb. The cock held motionless for a moment, and the big hands reached up and twisted her nipples cruelly. She shrieked again, and then felt the huge shaft sliding backwards in a motion that seemed to go on forever. Then it abruptly reversed course and plunged all the way back into her depths in a single motion. Now the hands were forcing her hips backward and forward, and it was all she could do to remain on her hands and knees. But slowly the feeling of being so totally filled changed from painful to pleasurable, and then she became aware that the huge organ was sliding over her g-spot, sending almost continuous thrills through her. At the same time, her clitoris was pulled down so that the shaft rubbed across it on every inward stroke. She had never felt anything like this before, and suddenly, under the onslaught of so many sensations, she was building toward a climax. It hit her like a freight train, and she cried out repeatedly into the gag. But the large figure behind her continued to batter away at her like a machine, pumping without rest, giving her no time to recover, until she felt another explosion building up within her. This time, however, the big man began driving into her harder, pushing her forward until she collapsed on the bed. His heavy belly came down on her hips, pinning her to the mattress, and his enormous cock continued to reach deep within her. She had never felt so dominated in her life, and that compounded her response. Now she could feel him driving towards his own climax, and his need drove her own higher until it was too much to sustain and her senses overloaded. As his full body weight collapsed on her, she passed out. When she regained awareness, she was lying on her side and her wrists were free. She started to reach for the sleep mask, but Carter's voice lashed out immediately, "No!" and she let her arms fall to the bed. After another minute or two, she felt the heavy stranger roll toward her and grab her by the waist. In a single move he lifted her so that she was now straddling him. He was no body builder, that much was clear to her. His thighs were huge and when she put her hands down on his chest she felt fat overlying the muscle. As she started to slump down on him, she felt his erect cock pushing up against her and she stopped herself in wonder. Reaching out, she grabbed the stalk, trying to take its measure with her hands. They couldn't go around its diameter, which amazed her, and when she stacked her hands on top of each other, there was still more sticking out the top. As she sat there trying to guess how large he might actually be, she felt his arms lift her again, positioning her over the monster she'd been trying to assess. She tried to protest, but the ball gag prevented that. Instead she felt him forcing his way up into her swollen pussy, and the sensations she'd experienced earlier began to return. In short order, she was the one who took over the action, lifting herself up and then allowing her body to impale itself on his stake. Each thrust forced a gasp from her. After a while she leaned forward and began a rocking motion, delighting in the feelings the new position produced. Suddenly, she felt Carter's hands on her back, pushing her forward even further, holding her down. She tried to protest, but he ignored her. Then she felt the big man's hand reaching behind her to spread her ass cheeks apart. Now she knew what was coming and was afraid, but she was helpless. Carter's cock, slimy with some kind of lubricant, slid around her bottom until it found her rosebud. Then, with a single push he penetrated her. For a moment she felt as though she were going to be split in two. A mental picture of how she must look came to her, and she shivered. These two men were using her for their pleasure while she was pinned between them. The thought shook her and thrilled her simultaneously. Then all thought vanished as first Carter and then the big man began to move inside her. At first it was awkward, with one or the other slipping out of her as they struggled to find a rhythm. But then they found it, and she felt like the cylinder of an engine being repeatedly reamed by not one but two pistons. She screamed and screamed and screamed as they drove her mad with lust, until all three of them collapsed in a sweaty, sticky mound. When she opened her eyes the next time, sunlight was pouring in through the curtains. The big man, whoever he was, was gone. Harrison was just coming out of the bathroom, showered and neatly shaved. When she saw the time, she frantically ran for the bathroom, trying to clean herself as fast as she could. By the time she was out, Harrison was dressed and ready to leave. He looked at her blandly. "Next time there will be five men," he said, and she shuddered in spite of herself. Once he was gone she threw her things into her bag and, after pausing only long enough to run a comb through her hair in a hopeless attempt to look professional, she too headed for the lobby. Fortunately for her, Carter had already signed for the bill when she turned in the room key. The only thing she had to do was endure the desk clerk's leer as he wished her a good day. She wondered why until she remembered that she wasn't wearing any underwear. "I can't go to work like this," she thought frantically and wheeled into the parking lot of a Wal-Mart. Like a madwoman she ran through the aisles until she came to Women's Wear, where she picked up a utilitarian white bra and a three-pack of panties. After purchasing them, she hurried back to her car. In the parking lot she tore open the packaging and proceeded to don the underwear as modestly she could while sitting in the front seat of her car. A teenage boy playing with his cellphone nearby gaped at her when he happened to glance up. She tried to ignore him as she finished, then pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the highway. As she drove, a pall of guilt began to settle over her. Already the past weekend seemed like some feverish dream. Had she really deceived her husband to go off on an immoral rendezvous with a lover? Had she really participated in two days of debauchery? It all seemed so unreal to her. Now what she wanted was the love, security and normalcy of her marriage. Tears began to well up in her eyes as she thought about Mac waiting for her. If he were ever to find out the things she had done this weekend, she would be so ashamed she didn't think she could stand it. It frightened her to think about what it might do to him. "I'm going to be so good to him," she promised herself. "I'll never see Carter again." But the mention of his name caused her to remember some of the things he had done to her that weekend. When she remembered his promise to bring more men with him the next time, she shivered involuntarily. "What is wrong with me?" she asked herself. "I love my husband - I want to be a good wife and partner. So why does a part of me want to act like a total slut? Why can't I control it? When did I become so schizophrenic?" Her helplessness made her angry. "It's all Carter's fault," she told herself vehemently. "He's the one who tempted me; he's the one who made me do all those horrible things." But even as she cursed him she was forced to acknowledge that she was equally to blame. "He didn't drug me, he didn't rape me," she admitted. "I could have walked out of that room at any time, but I didn't. I wanted what he was offering." As she drove through the outskirts of the city, she angrily pushed her thoughts away. "I need to go straight to the office and handle things there. I'll figure out what to do about everything else later." As she'd anticipated, when she finally made her appearance at the Women's Shelter things were chaotic. She quickly found herself covered up in paperwork and phone calls until well past lunch time. As she bit into a sandwich at her desk, she suddenly realized that she hadn't called Mac. Quickly she dialed the church office and reached Mrs. Moore. "Oh, hello Colleen, dear. Father Mac said you might be calling. No, he's not here right now, he's off at some meeting. No, I'm not sure when he'll be back. Oh, but he did leave a message for you. He asked me to tell you that he has to make a hospital visitation tonight, and that if it runs too late he just might stay there overnight. No, there wasn't any other message. Yes, I'll be sure to let him know you called. Okay, bye now." Colleen hung up the phone and sat there lost in thought, her sandwich forgotten. She'd badly wanted to reconnect with her husband, and she was frustrated that they might not be reunited until tomorrow. Mac had spent the night at the hospital before, so Colleen wasn't overly surprised at Mrs. Moore's message. Nevertheless, she felt uneasy. "Is he avoiding me?" she wondered. "Is he mad at me for not returning on Sunday?" She carefully repressed the thought that he might know about her weekend - that possibility was too awful to consider. She got home late from work, and as she approached the parish house she hoped she'd find Mac there. But the house was dark and his old car was nowhere in sight. At least with Mac gone, she thought, she could empty her suitcase without worrying about what he might see. She ran a load of laundry and then decided to take a shower. The hasty sponge bath she had taken before leaving the hotel had left her feeling dirty all day. As she came out of the bathroom and began putting on some comfortable clothes, she noticed a long black bag standing in the corner of the bedroom. Curiously, she walked over to have a closer look. But when she felt the heavy-duty nylon, she realized what it held and snatched her hand away as though she'd touched a snake. It was Mac's old sniper rifle! He'd had it stored away in the attic ever since they'd moved into the parish house. Why would he have it out now, she wondered. It brought to mind the dark days just after Mac had returned from Iraq, days that she'd hoped were long behind him. The fact that he'd brought the big rifle down now made her very uneasy. Nervously she tried to call Mac's cellphone, but she only got a recording that he was not available. Then she remembered that he always turned his phone off when he was at the hospital. Tonight that didn't reassure her. Pulled between anxiety and guilt, Colleen found it difficult to get to sleep despite her exhaustion. * * * * * * * * * * Father Mac got to his desk early the next morning and found a note from Mrs. Moore about Colleen's call. He looked at it grimly, then set it aside. There would be time enough for Colleen later. At that moment there was a timid knock on the doorframe, and when he looked up he was surprised to see Marge Terrell standing there. "I'm sorry to intrude, Father Mac, but another one came in yesterday afternoon, and I thought you might need it too." He looked over the papers the bookkeeper handed to him, and a chill went through his heart. He looked up to thank her, but she had already left. He picked up the phone and called Preston Charlton. "I have another one, Preston. I'd like to bring it by your office before you have your meeting." When he heard Preston's response, he hurriedly closed up his office and headed for his car, a look of grim determination on his face. * * * * * * * * * * Carter Harrison was working at his desk that morning when a call came in from the President of the Board of Trustees "requesting" him to attend an urgent meeting at the bank. There was no way Harrison could turn down such a request, but it irked him mightily to be summoned like that. "Who does Preston Charlton think he is?" he sneered as he got behind the wheel to drive over to the bank. "I'm not some lackey at his beck and call." As he pulled into the bank's parking garage, he spotted Father Mac leaving, and the sight amused him. "He wouldn't be so self-righteous if he could have seen what I did to his wife last weekend," he chortled. After parking his car Harrison got in the elevator and took it to the executive suite, where a secretary ushered him into Preston Charlton's office. Summoning his most effusive manner, Carter strode to Charlton's desk with his hand outstretched. "Preston, it's good to see you," he exclaimed. Charlton ignored his hand and remained seated, a scowl on his face. "Harrison, I'll get straight to the point. I've just been on a teleconference with the other trustees. They voted unanimously to remove you as Executive Director of the United Fund, effective immediately." "What!?" Harrison shouted. "What's this all about?" Calmly Charlton picked up a sheaf of papers from his desk. "I have here a set of expense reports that you've submitted for reimbursement over the past few months. They contain numerous unauthorized purchases of items for your personal use, inappropriate expenditures not permitted by United Fund policies and expenses that clearly exceed spending limitations." "Let me see those," Harrison demanded and when Charlton handed them over he shuffled through them hurriedly. Then he angrily tore the sheets in half and threw them on the floor. "This is ridiculous!" he exclaimed. "You want to fire me over piddling shit like this? I've brought in many times this much in increased donations. Since I've been in charge this United Fund is generating higher revenues than ever before. I'm worth way more than what you're paying me. You can't seriously be worried if I ran over on a few expense items." Charlton's voice was filled with anger and contempt. "You don't get it, Carter. You don't have the right to decide what's acceptable and what's not. It's not your money, it's the donors' money. They didn't give it to the United Fund so you could go to fancy restaurants and buy overpriced food and wine. They didn't donate their money so you could go off to some beach resort and live like an Arab prince like you did last weekend. And then you had the audacity to submit your little outing for reimbursement under the guise of attending a conference. My secretary checked with the hotel this morning: there was no conference there last weekend." "It's a high-pressure job," Harrison shot back. "I'm entitled to a little R&R at the United Fund's expense. It's like investing: you have to spend money to make money. You're a banker - you should understand that." Then his face darkened. "But it doesn't matter - you can't fire me in any case because I have a contract. And if you try to break it, my attorney will sue you for damages and tie you up with restraining orders for years." "You probably could do that," Charlton acknowledged coolly, "but in the end we'd still win, and we'd also pursue civil and criminal charges against you. You'd be facing possible fines and jail time, not to mention ruinous legal fees. But a fight like that would damage the reputation of the United Fund. And that's why I've been authorized to make a deal with you. If you'll sign a document admitting to misuse of funds and agreeing to make restitution, we'll allow you to resign quietly and agree not to press charges."