Disbursement of Sin
When the smell of lavender reached him, it turned the confessional into a cage.
“Father, will you cleanse my soul.”
Her voice was a purr, threatening delicious violence.
“I had fun at a party, there were such beautiful things that I had to keep them. Wanna see?”
“Mademoiselle Marchand, will you require payment again?” His voice trembled.
Her nails scratched at the grille and she gave a light laugh.
“Oh Father, you know there’s no negotiating.”
He paled; ashamed he covered his face with the eight fingers of his hands. Whispered yes.
"Excellent." Marie smiled. "See you tonight."