In my line of work, there is no shortage of illicit activities you can find yourself witness to or directly a part of. Hustling for as long as I have, I have perfected my craft and both my name and face have become something akin to legend. Powerful Men have found their way to me, and as is to be expected, they desire me just as much as they desire the version of me they need me to be for them.

Little surprises me these days, but after realizing the mob will essentially be my intermediary to powerful men, I won’t lie and say I’m not the tiniest bit taken aback when I am notified that a man of the Church is the one who has procured me for that day. Even with the church’s reputation in tatters, there is always something peculiar when you come face-to-face with a “holy man” wanting to anoint you with his cock.

Duty called, and I made my way into the Church as ordered. I knew this priest, Father Scott, had probably been given at least a glimpse of me via photograph. But I made it a point to casually walk past his confessional booth as he wrapped up his duties to give him an even better look. The look on his face was something to behold, both incredulous that I was real, and mixed in was a look a pure, animalistic desire.

He stood up and walked out of his booth as I stood there, taking in the beautiful art and architecture surrounding me. He walked several paces and then glanced back at me, I turned my head slightly to meet his gaze and he all but motioned to me to follow him to his quarters.

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