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"Now Michele, don't cry; I would hate to ruin all the hard work thatCarmel did with your makeup," he said."Just behave yourself and there will be no more pain."He lifted my chin and looked deeply into my eyes."God your just fucking beautiful," he whispered and put his arms aroundme.Eddie embraced me, locking his strong arms around me. His faced movedforward and I sensed he was about to kiss me. My involuntary action wasto move back. His right hand came up again and was held out flat near myface, ready to slap me again. I forced myself to stay still.He enclosed me in his arms again and this time his lips came down onmine. It was the strangest feeling, I could feel the slight rasp ofafternoon shadow on his face, smell the faint scent of his aftershaveand the press of his thick lips against mine. He pushed his tongue intomy mouth and I could taste my lipstick mingled with his mouthwash. Histongue started to explore my mouth and he pulled me even closer.I forced myself not to back away,. I wrapped my legs around his waist and gripped his shoulders tightly, clinging to him. My long, dark hair came out of its plastic clip and spilled over my shoulders, and he tangled his hands in it roughly. I groaned as he tugged my head back to nip at my throat. We slid to the floor somehow, and he rolled over me. His fingers deftly unclipped my bra and tossed it aside. Max kissed his way down my neck and shoulders to my breasts. He took each nipple between his teeth just hard enough to make me squeak and shudder. Before I knew it, he had my pants and underwear off, and I could feel the rough industrial carpet scraping against my ass. I wanted him so badly in that moment that it was indescribable. My thighs were slick and wet, and sweat was beading on my chest under his mouth. I fumbled with his fly and he kicked off his jeans and boxers. As if it were planned, I opened my legs and he slid his full length into me, up to the hilt. We both moaned at the sensation, put off for almost.
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I was sure that when my end finally came, I would be cast into the outer darkness.Once we had settled in at Londinium and I was under slightly less restrictive supervision, I replaced my tears with curses. I had squandered my inheritance, just as the prodigal son in the parable. It was only when I began to read the gospels I had managed to smuggle in my clothes that my mood began to brighten. For had not the prodigal son been welcomed with open arms by his father when he repented? And had not Peter betrayed Christ three times before dying a glorious witness to his grace? Surely, if there was hope for these, then there might be hope for a sinner such as I.I began to pray without ceasing, and whenever I was left alone I read from the gospels and letters I had in my possession. Finally, I worked up the courage to approach one of the British maidservants. She had no idea who I was or why I had been married off, and presumably had never heard of Christos.“Muriel, come here. I have good.

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