"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned, it's been one week since my last confession."

  

  

   I sat in the dim confessional booth, my knees pressed against the hard wooden kneeler, my hands folded in my lap. 

  

  

   The air was thick with the smell of old incense and polished wood, but all I could focus on was the sound of his breathing on the other side of the screen.

  

  

    Father Marcus, I knew it was him from the schedule, from the way I timed my visits every Sunday evening when the church emptied out. 

  

  

   My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt that familiar heat building between my legs just...