The Confessions Read online

  “Thank you,” she said, dabbing her eyes, once more the duchess, no more the troubled teenaged girl.

  “You’re welcome. We all need a good cry every now and then. I had one myself just this morning.”

  “Did you stub your soul too?”

  “I looked in the mirror without bracing myself.”

  “Hush, you’re very handsome.”

  “What did I say about flirting with me?”

  “Sorry, sorry.” She held the tissue in her hand. Her eyes were bright green, incandescent from her tears. “He did it to protect me. That’s all.”

  “That’s all it is,” Stuart said. “But you can still be hurt by it. You should forgive him, though. His intentions were good.”

  “They were. They always are where I’m concerned. I’ll forgive him, I promise. Once I get up the courage to confess to him I looked through his Bible.”

  “Good luck with that. He still scares the shite out of me.”

  “Oh, no, he doesn’t.”

  “He doesn’t, but don’t tell him that. It’ll hurt his little feelings.”

  “You’re a very good priest,” she said. “I’m glad we finally got to meet. He speaks very highly of you.”

  “Not so fast. You still haven’t given me a real sin yet. I can’t wrap this thing up until you do. It’s not reconciliation until I’ve absolved and reconciled you.”

  “We went over everything. I have committed no mortal sins.”

  “Make something up then!”

  “Um…” She held up her hands. “Come on, Nora, you make up stuff or a living. Wait. I got it. Daniel Craig.”

  “The actor?”

  “Yes, him. James Bond. He’s married.”

  “He is.”

  “I want to fuck him.”

  “Well, who doesn’t? He shows up in half the confessions I hear.”

  “Doesn’t Jesus say that if you look upon someone and lust after them in your heart, you’ve committed adultery?”

  “He does, yes. But we’re fairly certain lust means you’d do it if given the opportunity. Simple sexual attraction doesn’t count as lust.”

  “It’s not simple sexual attraction. I’d steal him from his wife, and we’d run away to Italy and live together in a crumbling Tuscan palazzo, and we’d leave the world behind, and it would be nothing but wine and food and sex until we ate ourselves, drank ourselves, and fucked ourselves to death. Now that’s lust. But more importantly, it’s adultery.”

  “That is adultery. Excellent. Well done.”

  “So you can absolve me?”

  “I will the second you tell me who we’re really talking about.” He raised his eyebrows at her and waited.

  “You’re good,” she said. “Very good.”

  “I’ve had a lot of practice seeing through masks. Take off yours.”

  “Zach,” she said with a heavy sigh. “Grace’s husband. My editor. I still have feelings for him. Very strong feelings that make me tempted to do things I shouldn’t do.”

  “You and Marcus have a complicated relationship with this couple, don’t you?”

  “Understatement of the century. And it doesn’t help that I traded Grace a night with Søren for a week with Zach. She ended up with a child. I ended up with a…I don’t know, a dream of what could have been. And the man is ridiculously so good at anal.”

  “Eleanor.”

  “An ass-master, I swear. He’s better than Nico and Søren and they’re both fantastic. Every night for a week. I couldn’t walk, but I was happy.”

  “You’re trying to give me a heart attack. That’s not nice.”

  “Sorry. Sorry.” She raised her hands in surrender. “I had to get that out.”

  “I think you keep as many secrets from him as he keeps from you.”

  “Yeah, but I only keep the secrets that would…”

  “Hurt his little feelings?” Stuart finished her thought for her.

  “Damn, you are a good priest.”

  He blew on his nails and brushed them on his cassock. That got another laugh at her.

  “Father, I love Søren and Nico. I’m in love with them. I don’t want to feel this way about someone else. What do I do?”

  “First you have to see your feelings for what they are, not what you think they are. What happened that week with Zach that sticks with you? And not the…you know.”

  “The sex,” she said.

  “That. You said that week with this Zach gentleman left you with ‘a dream of what could have been.’ What’s that dream?”

  “That week is the week I met Nico. It was right after we found out about Fionn. That week with Zach in France was the last…I don’t know, the last easy week of my life.”

  “Easy? How so?”

  “When I met Nico, he fell in lust with me. Has a thing for older women.”

  “I used to. Then I turned 81. Now I can’t find any older women. But tell your boy I approve of his tastes.”

  “I absolutely will. Anyway…Kingsley’s son, Nico. That was hard after meeting him, knowing that he was going to complicate my life. Complicate it even more. Wes made things difficult, but at least we lived on the same continent. That week with Zach was the last week before everything changed. I keep going back to it in my mind, living there, wishing we’d had more time, wishing I could stop time and stay in France longer. Not forever. Forever belongs to Søren. Just longer. I love my life but it’s not easy being in love with two men in two different counties. Why couldn’t Nico have been Canadian or Mexican? He had to be French? Really? So unfair.”

  “I suppose I don’t have to tell you, of all people, that life isn’t fair?”

  “Nope.”

  “You say that was the last week before everything changed, before everything got harder,” Ballard said. “Isn’t it possible that what you’re lusting for is not the man but the life you were living before meeting Nico? That and…”

  He punched the air and she nodded. She caught his drift.

  “By your own choosing, you have two lovers—and one of your lovers has another lover of his own and a child. You enjoy that life. You chose that life. But you know better than I do that it’s a hard life, “ he said. “You’re not merely lusting after a married man. You’re lusting for a life you can’t have—a simple life. Simpler, anyway.”

  “That’s a big part of it. Maybe the biggest part.”

  “The great heartache of my life was discovering this truth—there is no such thing as a simple life. We all want it, all seek it. It doesn’t exist, Eleanor. Not on this side of Heaven. I’m a man without a wife, without children. I don’t pay my own bills. I have a guaranteed roof over my head until my dying breath. I have my health and nothing to worry about, and even I don’t lead a simple life. You can’t have a simple life with a wild heart like yours. The simple life is a mirage. It’s like a perfectly clean and polished wine glass. And you want that pristine chalice, but the second you reach out and pick it up, it’s covered in your fingerprints. It’s only clean until it’s yours, then it’s dirty. That’s the simple life. It’s simple until you show up and start using it.”

  “I know you’re right,” she said. “But the desire’s still there. Such a beautiful mirage. It’s hard not to look at it when I’m on the plane to France leaving Søren and America behind, and I know I only have four weeks with Nico before I’m back again. And I already miss Søren and I already miss Nico.”

  “Steal him then. Your Zach. If you tried, could you steal him?”

  “I’m Nora Fucking Sutherlin. You bet your ass I could.”

  Stuart laughed. He did love a woman with moxie.

  “What’s stopping you then?” he asked.

  “My conscience?”

  “You sure about that?”

  “No.”

  “What’s stopping you then?” he repeated, more slowly this time, letting the words hit her one at a time.

  “Because I’d have to give up Nico and Søren.”

  “And you don’t wa
nt to.”

  “No. I don’t want to. My life is harder. But it’s better,” she said. “So much better than it was before…”

  “There’s your answer.”

  “And yet the fantasy remains.”

  “Well, I still fantasize sometimes about getting married and having babies, and I’m 81 and a Jesuit. Wonder if Marcus ever has that fantasy? The simple life?”

  “I’m sure he does,” Eleanor said.

  “I’m sure he does, too. You think that’s what that photograph is? A small glimpse into his dream of a simpler life?”

  “I’m sure it is,” she said. “But he wouldn’t choose it anymore than I would. And yet you still dream…”

  “Exactly. Human nature,” Ballard said.

  “What are you going to do?”

  The question was rhetorical. He answered it anyway. “I’m going to absolve you, dear girl. That’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Finally.” She held up her hand, and he slapped it in a high five. “Absolve me good and hard, Father Ballard. This adulterous harlot needs it.”

  “You promise you feel contrite about your sinful urges?”

  “I do. I really do. I’m trying to be a good girl these days. My only two lovers are Søren and Nico. No more married guys, especially not ones raising small children. No more drama. I fuck a priest and I fuck my priest’s lover’s son and that’s as drama-free as this bitch gets.”

  “This is the strangest confession I’ve ever heard in my life, and that includes all of Marcus’s various and sundry perversions.”

  She winked at him. “You’re welcome.”

  “Any other sins we’ve missed? Anything you didn’t confess to Marcus?”

  “I got Dairy Queen on Ash Wednesday.”

  “Now that’s a mortal sin if I’ve ever heard one. Go on. Say your Act of Contrition…”

  “Lord God, I am sorry for my sins. I am. I have sinned against you and against your Church. Forgive me for my sins and lead me with your grace and love.”

  “God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of your son, you have reconciled the world to yourself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. May God grant you pardon and peace. And I absolve you of your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” he said as he made the sign of the cross in front of her and she crossed herself accordingly. “Amen.”

  “Amen,” she said.

  “Feel better?”

  “I like the prayer of absolution better in Latin.”

  “Out of my confessional, you bewitching temptress. And give me my Jolly Rancher back. Cherry is my favorite.”

  She popped it in her mouth.

  “Jezebel,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Thank you, Father.” She held out her hand to shake and instead he kissed the back of it as gallantly as an old man with a touch of palsy was able.

  “You’re good for him, and I’m glad he has you,” he whispered. “But don’t ever tell anyone I said that.”

  She gave him a tiny smile. “Our little secret,” she whispered.

  She started for the door and then stopped. “Wait. Penance. Are you giving me any penance?”

  “Penance? You? His lover? My dear Eleanor—you love a priest. The sin itself carries its own penance.”

  She laughed and it was such a laugh he knew her soul was healed.

  “Shouldn’t you at least tell me to go forth and sin no more?” she asked, leaning in to hug him goodbye.

  “Why on Earth would I do that?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her and enjoying the feel of a beautiful woman’s body against his. No sin there. And if there was, it was only venial. “This is the most fun I’ve had in years.”

  The Confession of Tiffany Reisz

  This conversation was conducted by book reviewer Cyndy Aleo on January 22, 2016 via Skype chat. It has been edited for clarity, errors, and length. Insertions and explanations of terminology and abbreviations are in brackets.

  TIFFANY: Hello? Is it me you’re looking for?

  * * *

  CYNDY: Hello from the other side.

  * * *

  TIFFANY: Hello! How are you? That’s not a song, by the way, just a real question.

  * * *

  CYNDY: LOL. Good! How are you?

  * * *

  TIFFANY: Very good. Can you introduce yourself to the readers?

  * * *

  CYNDY: Lapsed book reviewer, lapsed Catholic, Tiffany acolyte?

  * * *

  TIFFANY: Perfect! [Cyndy is possibly the biggest fan of The Angel on the planet.] I’m ready when you are!

  * * *

  CYNDY: READY.

  * * *

  TIFFANY: HIT ME.

  * * *

  CYNDY: So the first topic I wanted to talk about is Søren’s kinks.

  * * *

  TIFFANY: He would say, “Kink. Singular.” He might be kidding himself.

  * * *

  CYNDY: Pretty much every book with Nora and Søren together has made me light-headed at some point, even when it’s felt like you were working down my personal [kinky] checklist.

  * * *

  TIFFANY: Bad lightheaded, I assume? As in I crossed a boundary with you?

  * * *

  CYNDY: How do you figure out where to draw that line with him each time? How does HE? With Nora [that is]. We know there isn’t really a line with King—more of a guideline.

  * * *

  TIFFANY: I wish I could say I was really thoughtful and contemplative when writing kink scenes, but usually all I’m doing is getting into that character’s head and doing what I think they’d enjoy. So if the character isn’t worried about crossing a line, then I’m not either.

  * * *

  CYNDY: Obviously I’m not vanilla, and GOD KNOWS I have read some filthy things…but you really take things to an edge. For instance, in The Queen, the first Nora/Søren scene is Daddy Kink in a D/s relationship where Søren—both in the novels and in some reader response—has been occasionally accused of “grooming.” That is right the hell to the edge with pin-wheeling arms.

  * * *

  TIFFANY: I’m picturing your arms pin-wheeling and it’s amusing me very much.

  * * *

  With Søren, I’ve never written in his point of view so I can’t speak as authoritatively as I can with other characters...but he is a man who understands pain AND suffering. I think his line is, “Pain, but not suffering.”

  * * *

  The Daddy Kink scene in The Queen exists because A) I always wanted to write [Daddy play] and B) I know Nora would enjoy doing it. And if Nora would enjoy it, Søren would want to do that with her and for her. The same way you give your partner a back rub for your partner and not for you. So yeah, you enjoy making your partner feel good but it’s your partner getting the back rub, not you. So the Daddy play scene was Søren rubbing Nora’s, um...back.

  * * *

  Yeah, let’s go with back.

  * * *

  One other thing that happens when I write is that if my brain starts to light up and I start to write REALLY REALLY fast I know I’m onto something. I know it’ll freak out some readers (mainly my husband) but other readers will LOVE it. And I’d rather get a strong love AND hate response than a tepid “that was nice” response.

  * * *

  CYNDY: A three-star review is death. You never want meh.

  * * *

  TIFFANY: Never ever. Better a one-star review. I’ve sold a lot of books because of some one-star reviews of The Siren.

  * * *

  CYNDY: So [getting back to grooming] you really don’t think, for instance, “Hey, this is a character who’s been accused of ephebophilia [sexual interest in mid- to late-adolescents] by both a character or two as well as a reader or two? Maaaaaybe the Daddy Kink is taking it a bit too far?”

  * * *

  TIFFANY: Nah. I probably SHOULD think about that stuff but I don’t. The thing is that I write for adul
ts and what I write for adults is the “forbidden love” trope. Classic trope. Goes back to the beginning of literature. Lancelot and Queen Guinevere were a forbidden-love trope story. So if you write forbidden love and you read forbidden love you’re going to get characters doing things they absolutely should not do in the real world. Fun to read? Yes. Fun to experience in real life? Probably not.

  * * *

  CYNDY: So in that light, do you ever think you HAVE gone too far? Does your editor ever say something like, “OMG, Tiffany, this King/Søren scene in The Prince is seriously dub-con [dubious consent] and this is Not Okay.”

  * * *

  TIFFANY: I’m trying to think if I ever thought I went too far? Hmmm...I wish I could say yes. But my editor has pulled me back a time or two. And usually it’s the stuff I never thought would bother her that bothers her. Example: I had a tiny little bit of snowballing in The Prince and she was like NO! SAFE WORD! CUT! (To readers who do not know what snowballing is, it’s when Partner A ejaculates into the mouth of Partner B and then Partner B kisses Partner A and gives Partner A their semen back.)

  * * *

  CYNDY: OMG, really?

  * * *

  TIFFANY: And I did because she usually lets me get away with murder.

  * * *

  CYNDY: If you saved that scene, feel free to email it to me…for science.

  * * *

  TIFFANY: [But] there is dubious consent in The Prince in those scenes that take place in the past. No denying it. But I like reading dub-con and I like writing it and my readers are (or should be) adults. And I do believe two very troubled teenaged boys who are exploring their kinks under those circumstances [at an all boys school in the middle of nowhere isolated from friends and family] would cross boundaries with each other. You try to achieve psychological accuracy and believability with fictional characters and often it’s not very pretty.