Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned

Here's the thing
I was just so alone that night in this sea of strangers
And there he was
Talking to me
Touching my hand
Making contact on some other, deeper plane
It was almost spiritual

He treated me like a goddess
Bringing offerings of champagne
Worshipping me with his eyes
His lips
His hands

The next thing I knew, really
We were out in the moonlight by the water
Naked
Without a thought
Or care
For consequences

Have you ever lived in the heat of the moment like that, Father?

I suppose not.

I hadn't either, to tell the truth.
Not once.
And it felt so good to just rip my inhibitions to shreds
And watch the winds of passion whip the tatters away.

Was the first sin when I let him look into my eyes and see my soul?
Or when I imagined how he'd feel inside of me?
Or when I made that decision to find out for real?
Or when I shrugged off my dress and let it slip to the grass?
Or when I undid his trousers?
Maybe it was when I grasped him and pulled him toward me
Or was it when I let him enter me, thrusting, crying out, filling me with holiness?
It had to be holiness
There's no other word.

It's funny how everything blurs together, Father, and there's no real
Hard
Defining line
No conclusive way of pinpointing the actual beginning
The true crossing over into sin.

So much of it is hazy, really.
I remember his shoes, though.
They were oddly distinctive.
In fact they were exactly like --
Father?
Forgive me, but I feel another sin coming on.