For Her Sins Read online

  I’m convinced a camera crew are gonna appear any second and I hope my ass doesn’t look too big on screen.

  But no. Just the drip, drip, drip of water all around me.

  Mr. Handsome closes the umbrella and puts it away. ‘On your head,’ he says.

  I touch a hand to the top of my head and find a single coin in my hair. It doesn’t look like a regular dime, and that’s because it’s not a dime.

  ‘Tell me what it says,’ Mr. Handsome instructs.

  I tell him the date on it: 1794, and the word LIBERTY.

  ‘Jackpot!’ he says.

  I wipe the damp hair from my face and ready myself for the camera crew, but none appear.

  Mr. Handsome beckons me to the counter and I glide right on over there, wondering if I’m really dreaming this shit.

  ‘Oh, you’re not dreaming,’ he says, as though he’s read my mind – again.

  He plucks the coin from my hand and I watch as it dances across his knuckles before he flicks it in the air and catches it. He tells me it’s a rare 1794 silver dollar, and that it’s worth a cool million.

  ‘Dollars?’

  ‘Of course. And it’s yours once your wish comes true.’

  ‘Mine? But why?’

  ‘You hit the jackpot with your wish.’

  I remember what I wished for and once again my cheeks are on fire.

  ‘And you’re perfect for it,’ he tells me.

  ‘World peace,’ I say, ‘always wish for world peace.’

  Mr. Handsome raises an eyebrow. ‘Miss Adams, that is not what you wished for.’

  Chapter Three

  He dropped a booboo there. I never once gave him my name. I tell him as much but he simply taps his nose knowingly. ‘Kirsty,’ he says, ‘would you like your wish to come true and become the proud owner of one of America’s rarest coins?’

  I think about that, wondering if Mr. Handsome himself would help out with my wish. This has still got to be a setup though, right? Then again, if this is some sort of gameshow and the prize is real… I decide to play along.

  ‘Okay, what do I have to do?’

  He smiles an eager smile. ‘First, we must determine if you are indeed a damn fine sinner.’

  I tell him I’m a good girl. ‘Ain’t no sinner here, mister.’ But he laughs at that. He opens the door behind him and asks me to follow him.

  So, this is where the camera crew will be waiting. I suck in my tummy and, still clutching my Harley costume and plastic bat, follow him into a room that’s small and sparse. Two fat leather chairs face each other; a side table and lamp next to each. There’s a deluxe coffee machine to one side and the smell of the coffee is divine.

  He closes the door and tells me to sit, makes us both a coffee. I place the costume and the bat on the red-carpeted floor and take the coffee gladly. It’s so rich to the taste. ‘Lovely coffee.’

  ‘Special import,’ he says, ‘one hundred dollars a cup, and it’s made from the shit of a cat.’

  I literally spit my coffee. I’ve read about this expensive cat-shit coffee. ‘No shit?’

  He laughs. ‘No shit.’

  He sits in the chair opposite and picks up the pad and pen from the side table. With his other hand, he spins the silver dollar on the table top and leaves it there spinning as he stares at the notepad. Eventually the coin comes to a stop and falls flat with a clunk.

  ‘The seven sins,’ he says. ‘Let’s start with Pride. Have you sinned?’ He quirks an eyebrow at me.

  I shrug. ‘I’m proud of being a good person. How can that be a sin?’

  ‘No, no. In the context of the seven sins, pride means arrogant, conceited, smug, self-important.’

  I tell him I’m none of those things but he disagrees.

  ‘I do believe you were comfortably smug when you saw the coupon for a fifty-dollar discount.’

  ‘Not smug,’ I protest, ‘just… glad.’

  ‘Glad why?’

  I tell him the truth, ‘I guess I saw the chance to look better. I didn’t want to be the ghost again.’

  ‘Self-important, then,’ he says with a grin.

  ‘They’re hardly sins.’

  ‘You’re not the judge here,’ he reminds me before referring to his pad and making a tick. ‘Greed next. Have you sinned?’

  I’ve always been a little bit greedy. Always the one to have the last piece of cake or another sausage off the barbeque. ‘Yeah, you got me. My friends call me Joey Two-pizza – after, you know, Joey from Friends, he always orders two. And so do I.’

  ‘No, no,’ he says, ‘that’s Gluttony. In the context of the sins, Greed means lusting after material things.’

  ‘Well that’s not me,’ I tell him, ‘my meager wages don’t allow for opulence.’

  ‘I really do adore that word,’ he says, ‘but, opulent or not, dear Kirsty, you sinned when you saw that coupon.’ He makes another tick on the pad.

  ‘Really?’ I object, ‘I only wanted to look… nicer.’

  ‘Like your friends?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Which brings us to Envy,’ he says, and makes another tick on the pad.

  I realize by this point that he’s going to catch me out at every turn, so I sit back and take another slug of the delicious coffee. Although it doesn’t go down so well once you know what it’s made of.

  ‘Gluttony…’ he continues, ‘your pizza tastes cover that one.’ Another tick. ‘And then we have Wrath. Have you sinned?’

  I shrug. ‘Nope, I’m not an angry person.’

  He gives a little laugh, looks to the ceiling and says, ‘Pissing, fucking asshat cats.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s what you yelled when those cats made your tires screech. Oh, followed up with, I won’t fucking brake next time, you slimy little shits.’

  My turn to laugh. I’m guessing they’ve planted a camera in my car. Shit, I hope they didn’t catch me picking my nose. ‘Fair enough. But I was only angry because they gave me a fright.’

  He makes another tick on the pad. ‘Next up is Sloth. Have you sinned?’

  ‘Does that mean lazy? I’ve been known to embrace my laziness. I admit that much.’

  He nods. ‘Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, Miss Adams.’ Another tick. Then he sits back with a smile on his face. ‘Last one,’ he says, ‘Lust… have you sinned?’

  ‘With lust? Well doh, who hasn’t?’

  ‘You’d be surprised,’ he tells me. ‘When did you last lust for sex?’

  My legs snap shut. He notices. And once again I’m burning up. ‘In the shower this morning,’ I say quickly, not wanting to admit to thinking what Mr. Handsome’s dick would be like to ride.

  ‘Congratulations,’ he says, ‘you have passed with flying colors, a true sinner.’

  ‘Okay,’ I say, and hide my embarrassment behind my coffee cup.

  He stares at his pad, writes something, crosses it out, ums and ahs, writes something else, scratches that, too. I get the feeling he’s keeping me waiting on purpose.

  ‘Is there a problem?’ I ask.

  ‘No, no,’ he glances my way, ‘it’s just that it’s often difficult to know where to start on such a complex mission.’

  ‘Mission?’

  ‘Yes, Kirsty… mission. I don’t want to miss out any important detail, or perhaps fail to foreshadow something for tension-building effect. Got to get the plot points in the best order, you see?’

  ‘I see. So, just start at the beginning.’

  He seems to consider this. Then, ‘Very well. The beginning was when you made your wish.’

  I tell him that couldn’t be true, because he knew about the herd of cats, and he quoted the exact words I’d used when I’d shouted after the slimy little shits, so logic dictates they planted a camera in my car.

  ‘They?’

  ‘Yeah, the production company, whoever it is.’

  He shakes his head at that. ‘I meant the first time you made that wish. It was on the evening of your
eighteenth birthday, when you experienced anal sex for the first time.’

  My jaw drops.

  ‘And you wished it again when you had anal sex for the second time a month later. You loved it so much, you wondered what it would be like to… you know… your wish.’

  I put my coffee cup on the side table with a trembling hand. I’m totally freaked out. ‘I really should go now,’ I tell him.

  ‘Oh, Kirsty,’ he says, ‘I have something to show you, and I guarantee you won’t want to go anywhere.’

  I’m hesitant, a little scared if I’m honest. I mean, how could he possibly know this stuff?

  ‘I know everything about you,’ he says, ‘especially the fact you can be a chicken shit.’

  ‘Well thanks.’

  ‘You can thank me once you’ve had two cocks up your sweet ass.’

  I’m speechless. My whole body runs hot and cold. I’m shaking. I’ve never told anyone my fantasy, so how could he possibly–’

  ‘Pick up the bat,’ he says. ‘Right now. Pick it up.’

  I do as he says, pick up the bat off the floor and hold it across my palms. He shifts to the edge of his chair and leans towards me. I can smell his cologne; subtle but oh so heady. I want to lick him, is the thought that comes to me, and I’m suddenly horrified when he smiles and runs his tongue across his lips.

  ‘Your journey begins right here,’ he says and reaches towards the bat with an index finger.

  He touches the tip of his finger to the bat and there’s a hiss and a spark that makes me jump. But I’m transfixed as the brown plastic bat changes color before my eyes… not just the color, the texture… the texture of wood appears, spreading across the length of the bat, and as it does, the bat becomes heavy in my hands, and I’m holding my breath at what I’m seeing as letters start to appear, big red letters and the words GOOD NIGHT are printed on the wood.

  My hands are shaking like crazy. I don’t know what to say, except ‘Wow!’

  ‘Transformed,’ says Mr. Handsome.

  ‘How did you–’

  ‘Magic,’ he says, ‘and now it’s your turn.’

  ‘My turn?’

  ‘I’m going to transform you. Take your clothes off, Miss Adams.’

  Chapter Four

  ‘My what?’

  ‘Your clothes. So we can fit your costume.’

  I glance behind me, expecting – hoping – to see a fitting room.

  Mr. Handsome sighs. ‘This is the fitting room, Miss Adams.’

  I laugh a nervous laugh, and the babble comes tumbling from my mouth. ‘It’s Jocelyn and Michelle, isn’t it? They set this up. Just the kinda crazy thing they’d do.’ Another laugh. A dismissive flap of my hand. ‘So anyway, if you wouldn’t mind, erm…’

  He raises a questioning eyebrow and I swallow the lump in my throat.

  Without a word, he pushes to his feet, takes off his jacket and drapes it over the arm of his chair. My pulse races way too fast as he rolls up his shirt sleeves.

  He takes the bat from my hands then pulls me to my feet. He’s so close. And he smells so good. Smells like sex on legs.

  ‘You’re wet,’ he says and my gasp confirms he’s right about that. The heat between my legs flushes right up to my face.

  ‘And that’s good,’ he goes on, ‘because you are about to experience the best, the craziest, the most outrageous sex you have ever had. And I, Kirsty, will be with you every orgasmic step of the way. Right?’

  ‘Right,’ I say in a squeaky voice.

  ‘This is no TV show, Kirsty. This is no setup. Right?’

  I swallow. ‘But–’

  ‘No buts,’ he says. ‘Well, apart from yours.’ He laughs at his own joke. ‘Now, take your clothes off. Unless you want me to do it for you.’

  ‘I… I don’t even know your–’

  ‘Mr. J,’ he says, ‘call me Mr. J.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Right,’ he nods at my chest and I swear that despite my bra and thick jumper I feel my nipples tighten under his glare.

  ‘There’s nothing to be shy about,’ he says, ‘I know every freckle and mole on your body.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes, I do. Just like I know your favorite position in the shower, how you like to use the tiles to push that silly cucumber-shaped shampoo bottle up your ass.’

  I gasp again.

  ‘…How you like to cock one leg over the corner of the washing machine when it’s on spin cycle.’

  Another gasp.

  ‘…How you kneel on your bed every night and rub one off while reading trashy porn on your Kindle.’

  ‘It’s not trashy porn,’ I say.

  ‘At least you’ve stopped gasping,’ he replies.

  ‘This is a dream,’ I say, because it has to be. He couldn’t possibly know these things.

  Mr. Handsome – sorry, Mr. J. – shakes his head. ‘This is no dream, Kirsty.’ He reaches for my arm and pinches it. I yelp and flinch away from him.

  ‘You are wide awake, and you are at the start of something massive, something rare, something few people get to experience, and you, Kirsty Adams, should embrace it, and go with the flow, let good old Mr. J. show you the time – and the cocks – of your life! Right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Good. Now, take those clothes off.’

  I’m shaking. I’m sweating. And my pussy is so wet I can feel it in my panties, but my hands are moving to the hem of my jumper, and before I know it, I’m peeling my jumper over my head and letting it drop to the floor.

  Mr. J. nods his approval. His eyes flick to my jeans.

  And I’m kicking my sneakers off, pushing my jeans down and stepping out of them.

  My bra is old and off-white, it’s been through the wash so many times. And my panties are red. And big. A totally horrible mismatch.

  ‘All of it,’ Mr. J. says, and stares at my cleavage.

  ‘Seriously?’ I say in barely a whisper.

  He leans forward, his mouth so close to mine. ‘Seriously,’ he says.

  I’m trembling now. ‘This is no TV show, is it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re going… you’re going to… fuck me?’

  ‘Only if you deserve it,’ he says.

  My clammy fingers fumble with my bra clasp. I give it a yank and hope for the best and it comes free. I shrug the bra away from me, push down my panties and step out of them and stand before Mr J. with my hands clasped behind my back, my tummy sucked in, and my tits held high, quite proud that my nipples are flushed pink and hard as bullets.

  ‘Now we’re talking,’ Mr. J. says.

  He touches a hand to my tummy and I can’t help flinching. Can’t help the trickle of juices that dampens my thigh.

  ‘Open your legs for me,’ he says and my feet are shuffling apart for him.

  When his warm hand touches to my thigh, I can’t help the little moan.

  When his fingers slide over my wet pussy, I can’t help the little shudder.

  But when his hot touch lands on my asshole and he pushes a long finger inside, my legs buckle and I fold into him. He holds me there, my nakedness pressed against him, his finger up my ass, the hard ridge of his forearm pushing at my clit as his finger searches inside me, and I come. Just like that I come, a whole lot of shuddering and a whole lot of wetness and I don’t know what to do with myself.

  He straightens me up, holds me until I get my balance. ‘Good girl,’ he says, ‘that’s a tight little ass you have there.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, my breaths still ragged.

  ‘Don’t thank me yet,’ he says, and then with a sly smile and a twinkle in his gorgeous eyes, ‘it’s show time!’

  He’s grinning at me, like he’s going to impart something amazing, or scary. Scary – I think it’s going to be scary. I’m about to ask him if I can put the costume on now when he holds up a finger to stop me.

  ‘I’m about to show you something extra special,’ he says, ‘something that might blow your mind
a little, but I need you to focus, Kirsty. Embrace it, yes?’

  I swallow away my dry mouth. ‘Okay.’

  Another sly smile. ‘Brace yourself,’ he says and lands a hand on my shoulder.

  There’s a strange sound in my ears, like the sound of a whoopee cushion farting, then everything goes black and I have the feeling of being lifted into the air…

  …and dropped down to earth again.

  The blackness blinks into brightness. I’m standing outside the shop – in the mall – naked as the day I was born and the place is teeming with people.

  I hear the shriek coming from my mouth, see my feet running toward the shop door. But it’s locked, and Mr. J. is grinning through the glass.

  Chapter Five

  He opens the door and I push my way inside and dart between two rails of witch costumes.

  Mr. J. appears. ‘Do you feel nauseous?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nauseous, sickly, do you want to hurl chunks?’

  My heart is racing so hard. My face is burning up. My pussy is so damn hot. But I don’t feel sick, and I tell him so, and finish with, ‘What the fucking hell just happened?’

  ‘Transport mode,’ he shrugs, ‘it’s good you don’t feel sick. And the people out there, they couldn’t see you.’

  I wasn’t sure whether to believe a single thing he said, but he beckoned me to him, and once again I was gliding across the floor, stopping in full view of the shop door.

  ‘Take your hands away from your body and go stand in the doorway,’ he says.

  I hesitate, but when I think back, no one seemed to look at me during my brief appearance outside the shop.

  ‘Embrace it,’ he reminds me, ‘do that, and we can be on our way.’

  ‘On our way where?’

  ‘Mexico,’ he says.

  ‘Mexico,’ I mutter, watching the people walk by the shop. I drop my arm from hiding my tits, and my hand from hiding my pussy, stand up straight and step over the threshold. A good-looking guy about my age comes strolling past, talking on his phone, he doesn’t even glance my way. No one does. ‘I’m invisible?’

  ‘Until I will you otherwise, yes.’