Even that question was not fully penetrating my consciousness. Love. But, he was there … in front of me. He was dressed in nice shorts, shirt, and s...ndals. I was almost naked. Normal. I look into his face, which showed concern or confusion. I took the two steps between us, put both hands on the sides of his head and crushed his mouth with mine. One hand slid behind his head, the other down to his upper back, pulling him even tighter against my body as I continued to kiss him, my tongue slipping. The sanctity of confession meant he was gullible to what I said. In the dark confessional booth, I kneeled before his little screen door and turned him, convinced him my fiancé was good.I concocted whoppers of hating school, jealousy of rich people, confessed truthfully to everyday venial sins and fessed up to kissing longer than three seconds, all to establish veracity. Tossing in the failure to observe the Catholic orthodox arbitrary kissing time limit of three seconds was needed plausibility. More

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