Lessons in Sin

by Pam Godwin

This was a church. I never allowed my depraved thoughts to desecrate these walls. She was safe from me here. I carried her to the first row and lowered into the pew. We were soaked from the rain, quivering uncontrollably, and dripping water all over the place. As I shifted to set her beside me, her arm stiffened around my back, wordlessly demanding I not let go. “Tinsley.” I held her on my lap and gripped the soggy cardboard. “Give me the box.” “No.” Her head shook rapidly, her gaze waterlogged and devastated. “I can’t.” “You can.” I injected steel in my voice. “Do as you’re told.” Her fingers sprung open, releasing the shoebox, and a sob tore from her throat. “Good girl.” I set it aside and pulled her against my chest. She was so small, her lissome limbs curled into a ball on my lap, her head tucked beneath my chin. We needed towels, dry clothes, but that would require going back out in the rain. So I gave her my body heat and removed the phone from my pocket. After sending off a few quick texts, I set the device aside. Then, under the guise of keeping her warm, I gave into the urge to touch her. Slowly, agonizingly, I circled my palm across the silky wet skin of her thigh, torturing myself. If I wandered a few inches higher, I would reach heaven. She’d gifted me a clear, unhampered view of her glistening slit this afternoon. With her bare ass perched in the air and the belt she’d so naughtily earned leaving stripes of angry red flesh, I applauded myself for not impaling ...