by Mara Leigh
“No friends?” he asked. “None at all?”
“We were very isolated.”
“I didn’t realize it was that isolated. No other kids around?”
“Just me and Mother for miles and miles.” I drew a long breath. “And I just found out why.”
“Really?” He stopped.
We were at the door to Duffy’s. He opened it, and I stepped into the darkness. A pungent scent hit my nose, and something crunched softly underfoot as if we were in a field of dry grass. After taking a few steps to make way for him to follow, I stopped, blinking, willing my eyes to adjust to the dim light.
Laying his hand softly on my waist, he guided me to a table with padded, high-backed benches on either side. “A booth okay?”
“It looks very nice.” I sat, and he sat on the bench opposite me. So far away. I set the basketball beside me, and he did the same with his.
“What can I get you?” A woman in her fifties, dressed in worn jeans and a t-shirt that read Led Zeppelin, asked before reaching our table.
“Beer?” Mac asked me, and I shook my head.
“Do you have any nonalcoholic drinks?” I asked the waitress, who looked bored.
“Sure.” In a monotone, she recited a dizzying list of options so quickly not one of them registered.
“Orange juice?” I asked, hoping that had been on the list.
She smiled at Mac. “The usual?”
He nodded, and the waitress walked to the bar.
“You have a usual?”
“I’ve been here a time or two.”
“It’s very…” Eyes finally adjusted, I tried to find the words to describe the space. Mismatched fixtures barely yielded light, the war-worn tables and chairs barely stood upright, but there was something… “It’s warm in here, inviting. I can see why you like it.”
Nodding, he smiled, and the waitress returned. She tossed basket of unshelled peanuts onto the table, followed by a tall glass of beer for Mac and my orange juice, then she disappeared quickly like she had places to be, although there was only one other customer in the bar, an elderly man slumped on a stool at the far end of the bar. Did he need help? If so, it would have to wait. I had pressing business first.
Mac drained a few inches off the top of his beer, then cracked open a peanut, popped the meat into his mouth, and tossed the shells to the floor. Ah, I thought. Peanut shells. That’s what we walked over.
I sipped my orange juice—fresh and sweet.
“So you were talking about your dad?” Mac said. “You found out something about him?”
“Not about my dad. Not directly. It was about my grandfather.”
“What about him?”
I shook my head. “This isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Sorry.”
I reached across the table. “It’s okay. I want to tell you about all that, too, but there’s something more pressing on my mind.”
“Okay.” He drank another couple of inches of his beer and then held the glass on the table, his long, thick fingers gripping the vessel like he was worried it might run away.
“I thought about it,” I said, hoping he’d understand what I meant without my saying it.
“Thought about what?”
Feeling my cheeks pink, I was grateful for the dim lighting. “About what you said the night of our date. When I wanted to… to go to the hotel room.”
His fingers slowly spun the glass on the tabletop, his index finger and thumb bending with the motion. It was nothing, what he was doing to the glass, and still my body heated, the bubbles inside me reaching a boil.
“I want you to sex me,” I blurted.
“To sex you?” His green eyes sparkled, even in the dim light.
“You’re making fun of me.”
“I’m sorry.” Reaching across the table, he took my hand, and the contact sizzled through me, reawakening all the parts of me that had first come to life when he’d kissed me.
Nerves and lust buzzed inside me, but I was more certain than ever what I wanted. “I want… I mean, if you want.”
“Oh, I want.” He studied me like I held some mystery he was trying to solve. “But have you really thought about this? What it means?”
I nodded. “It’s what I want. Especially in light of things I’ve recently learned, about myself, Mother, her father.”
“Okay…”
“I’ll tell you more about that later, I do want to talk about it with you, but what’s important is… Before I enter the convent, I need to experience more of the world, learn more about myself.”
Since my aunt’s visit, and after looking through Mother’s things, I’d been questioning all of my decisions—every desire, every single thing I’d considered important.
“I know so little of life.”
“That’s what worries me.” His thumb stroked the back of my hand.
“It worries me, too.” I half-rose from the bench and leaned on the table. “Mother made me believe I was a sinner,” I said, “but compared to most people, my life was completely without sin. No experience of it at all.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Maybe. In some ways… I just… I don’t feel like a whole person.” Mother had filled me with ideas, parts of herself, that now felt strange, foreign. And after learning about her history and pain, those parts no longer fit together. I was like a puzzle put together wrong with major sections missing. “I need to experience more of life before I know who I am. Before I feel whole. Before I feel real.”
“You don’t feel real?”
Considering his question, I traced a finger through letters carved into the pine table, H.M. + J.K. Who did these initials represent? Had they been lovers?
“I want to understand sin,” I said quietly. “All sin. Not just lust. Will you help me?”
“Are you asking me to be your sin consultant?” He tipped his head to the side. “Not sure what that says about me.”
I sat back. “Oh, I didn’t mean any offense.”
“None taken.”
A grin drifted onto his face so naturally I wasn’t sure whether or not it had been there all along, and I was only now noticing, with the lifting of my heart. All the awkwardness, the distance I’d felt on the basketball court, had disappeared, and I wondered whether that had been coming from me, too.
Mac was the most self-assured, most assuring person I’d ever experienced. He made me feel safer than the priests I’d confessed to, safer than even Sister Henry. He made me feel safer than Mother ever had.
“So…” He raised his eyebrows a few times. “You want to experience all the sins?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “Very much. Yes.”
“Then you’ve got great timing.”
“How’s that?”
“I’ve got some business in the very best place in the world for sin. If you like, you can come. That is… Are you allowed to leave the convent for a few days? Maybe take a long weekend?”
“It’s not a convent, and I’m an adult. I can do what I want.” My words made me feel bold.
“Great. How’s this weekend?”
“It should be okay. I’ll make it okay.” Excitement raced through me. “Where are we going?”
“The absolute capital of sin. Las Vegas.”
Six
Mac
Faith stared through the rental car’s window. I couldn’t see her face, but her smile was unmistakable in her posture as she took it all in and waved at the cars we passed. The joy she took in little things…. Faith continually surprised me.
On the short flight, we’d talked more about how she’d grown up, and I marveled at how strong she was, how positive about life, especially since she’d pretty much been held prisoner. Could you be kidnapped by your own mother?
We talked about my family, too—my brothers, Da, our life running wild on the streets of the city. She was endlessly curious, not afraid to ask questions. and rarely showed embarrassment when something came up
that most twenty-two-year-olds from this planet would know. Faith was a sponge, soaking up everything, and most of it expanded her utter joyousness.
Her worldview remained so positive, which made me more positive, too—until I remembered her worldview would eventually land her in a world of hurt. Not everyone was good. I certainly wasn’t.
She had no idea how well qualified I was to teach her about sin, no idea she was traveling with a thief whose father was incarcerated. And she had this cute, almost cartoonish idea about testing the boundaries of sin, not knowing how far that could go if I let it, how fully I could expose her to the depths of depravity.
My dick stirred, and I shifted in my seat.
I was going to Hell. I’d known that since I was seven and Sister Agatha tore into me for taking a quarter from the collection plate. I’d been born bad, into a bad family. I shouldn’t drag down Faith with me. What the fuck had I been thinking, taking her to Vegas?
I knew exactly what I’d been thinking. I’d been thinking about how badly I wanted to fuck her, to watch her respond as she discovered her sexuality, and claim pleasure for myself, without thought to the damage I’d be doing. Permanent damage. She couldn’t take this decision back.
As I pulled onto the Strip, I shook off those thoughts, concentrating instead of all the ways I planned to spoil her. A saver by nature, in Vegas I usually stayed in cheap, off-Strip holes, but spoiling Faith was a luxury well worth it.
I had a big payday coming, and I’d cashed in on a few deals I’d been sitting on and had pulled in a few favors to get a hotel suite gratis. I planned to make this a trip Faith would never forget. This weekend could be her one chance at sin, at decadence, at treating herself to nice things, and I’d make sure she had it all, saw it all, did it all. Anything she wanted. Things she might not yet know that she wanted.
Faith
“Look at all the lights!” The seatbelt strained to contain my excitement, preventing me from hitting the roof of the fancy car Mac had picked up at the airport.
“Just wait until you see it after dark.”
I turned toward him and found a genuine grin on his face, not mocking at all, and that’s what I loved about Mac. Because I didn’t know things, most people treated me like I was simple, but I wasn’t. I lacked knowledge, experience, but that only gave me more opportunities to learn. Mac got that. He got me.
There wasn’t another person in the world I’d trust to conduct my tour of sin. On the surface, Mac and I were so different, but we were also alike in more ways than I ever could have imagined. Entering this new strange city of lights, I felt safe.
Is this how love feels? The thought stirred anxiety in my belly. How did one know if they were falling in love? This trip was my only chance, perhaps ever, to consider that question.
“This place is amazing,” I said to quash the question. “Thank you for bringing me.”
“My pleasure,” he said. “Always up for some sinning.”
My cheeks flushed. “Which of the seven deadly sins will we start with?”
“Which one would you like to tackle first?” He shifted on his seat, like he was physically uncomfortable.
I sucked in a sharp breath. Was it possible he was aroused? Thinking about Mac aroused me. Did I do the male equivalent to him?
That idea made my panties damp, and I made little circles with my hips, shocked at how good it felt as I pressed forward into the seat.
“Let’s see.” I counted on my fingers. “There’s pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath and sloth. Which do you most recommend?”
“I’m always up for lust.” His voice was rough.
The tone scared me, but I liked it, too. “You’re the expert.” I squeezed my trembling legs together. I wanted to try sex—that had been the driving force behind this plan—but now that the moment was drawing near, I had nerves. Nerves before sex were normal, right?
“Where are we?” I gaped out the window. “This looks like Europe!”
“This is our hotel.” He turned into the drive. “The Venetian. We can commit all the sins on your list without even leaving the building.” He pulled to a stop in front of a long set of doors. “Then again, that’s probably true of a dozen Las Vegas hotels—casinos, shopping, spas, shows, restaurants, without even going outside.”
Someone opened my door, startling me until I saw a smiling uniformed man.
“Welcome to the Venetian,” he said.
“Thank you very much. How kind of you.”
I stepped out of the car, marveling at the volume of lights surrounding the entrance even though it was daytime. I felt like a movie star.
“What’s your name?” I asked the man holding open my door. “Have you worked here long?”
He tipped his head to the side. “I’m Hector. And yeah, nearly ten years. Thanks for asking. Enjoy your stay, miss.” He stepped toward the next car.
Another man took our luggage out of the trunk. Not that we had much. My things were in a small vinyl bag Sister Henry had loaned me, and Mac had a suitcase on wheels.
Mac handed the man some money and took the suitcase and bag. “We can handle it from here,” he told the man. “Thanks.”
A third uniformed man got into our car and drove away.
“Mac! The car!”
“It’s okay.” He stepped toward me. “It’s valet parking.” Mac patted his pocket. “He gave me a ticket. We can get the car back anytime we need it.”
“Oh.” I laughed at my mistake.
“Shall we?” he asked.
“Sex? Right now?”
He laughed, then leaned in close. “Is exhibitionism a deadly sin?”
“Exhibitionism?”
“Sex in public.”
I laughed. “I’m sure that would add an extra level of sin. Sounds very advanced. I vote we wait until we get to the room.”
“If you insist.”
“I really must.” I liked that we could joke about this—assuming he was joking, too.
He rested my bag on his rolling suitcase, and yet another man held open the door to the hotel as we walked inside.
I gasped. Marble and gold lined the hall where massive columns stretched up to ceilings higher than I’d ever seen. “Is this what the Vatican looks like? St. Peter’s?”
“Don’t know. I’ve never been.” He touched my back lightly, steering me down the long hall. “But they did model this place after Italy, so maybe.”
I stood to the side, admiring the painting and artwork on the ceilings, admiring everything as Mac checked us into the hotel. Everything was so highly polished it shone—the entire place glittered—a refection of my joyous but nervous mood.
A couple walked past, the man gray-haired in a dark suit and deep purple tie, and the woman much younger and wearing the most beautiful dress I’d ever seen. Her dress looked like it was made of liquid gold, the fabric hugging her body in a way that was flattering without being lewd. Her shoes barely had straps and must have made her five or six inches taller than her already statuesque height, and her hair was in curls, pinned all over her head with diamonds. Her face was so perfectly made up she looked like a photograph—not real. Even the tiny bag in her left hand was beautiful, covered in diamonds, too.
Laughing at something the man said, she revealed blinding white teeth. Tightening his grip around her waist, the man kissed her neck. Her head tipped back, and her laughter continued as he whispered something in her ear.
“Decided to go with envy first?”
“What?” I turned toward Mac, who nodded toward the couple.
“Oh. Yes. Well, I guess.” Did I envy her? Maybe those little diamond things in her hair. They were very pretty. But this woman was so far removed from me that it didn’t seem envy was possible. Could a sparrow envy a swan?
Mac bent close to me. “She’s got nothing on you.”
His words warmed every part of my body, and suddenly I couldn’t wait to go upstairs, to be alone with Mac, to venture into uncharted, possibly t
reacherous waters on this journey of sin.
Faith
I followed Mac into the wide, marbled entrance of our hotel room. I couldn’t close my mouth. It was so fancy, so luxurious. I peeked in the door to the left, thinking it might be the bedroom, but discovered instead a bathroom. There wasn’t a tub or a shower, but that was fine. We weren’t going to be here all that long, and I’d bathed this morning before Mac picked me up.
I followed him ahead.
“Oh,” I exclaimed. “How many other people are sharing this room?”
“Just us.”
“But this…” I’d walked into a space with sofas and chairs, a huge television the size of what I imagined they must have in movie theaters. To the right was a dining room table with a dozen chairs, and ahead of us the wall was floor-to-ceiling windows facing distant mountains. We were so high up.
“The suite is ours,” Mac plopped down on the sofa. “Well, ours for a few nights, anyway.”
I spun, taking in the lush fabrics in golds and creams with accents of robin’s-egg blue, and artwork comparable to what I’d seen at the museum in San Francisco. I walked to the window and put my hand on the glass. None of this seemed real. “All of this? For us?”
“For you.” He came up behind me and draped his arms loosely around my body. “All for you.”
I drew a long breath. It was so much, too much, but I supposed this was greed, and I kind of liked it. And I liked having his arms around my body. I placed my hands over his to keep them there.
“It’s too much.”
“That’s the idea.” His face brushed the side of my face, and the light stubble excited my skin.
“Let’s call this gluttony, step one,” he said. “Or maybe greed? Or lust?” His voice was a deep rumble in my ear. “You can lust for things besides sex, right?”
“I’m not sure.” I turned in his arms to half face him. “You’re the sin consultant.”
“Right. Yes. In that case, you have to listen to the expert.” He stepped back, putting his hand around my waist and pulling me with him. “Let’s look at the rest of the suite.”