It was late on the evening of a First Friday, and St. Michael's was almost empty. Father Dowling says it wasn't like that in the old days, before Vatican II, but I wouldn't know about that.

All I get in the confessional nowadays is a lot of old ladies and little kids, and none of them have much to confess.

I'd just gotten through with two old ladies whose worst sins were gossiping about their neighbors -- and that wasn't what they'd come to confess, it was what they'd come to do. In the cramped, dark booth the grilles on either side didn't provide much ventilation, so with the warmth and the boredom I was yawning every few minutes.

I may even have nodded off for a few minutes. At least I don't remember hearing the door to the booth on the left opening, just the sound of a fingernail rapping on the wooden grille.

"Father? Father Prestwick? Are you there?"

I blinked a few times and stifled a yawn. Then I recognized the voice and I was immediately awake. It was Mrs. Klimaszewski.

I should explain. Carol Klimaszewski is one of the few exceptions to the rule about only old women and little kids coming to confession. She's in her early 30s, I'd guess -- at least I'm sure she's not an old lady. She makes a point of getting into my line for Communion every Sunday, and the clothes she wears make it clear she's still young and firm. I've heard some of the other women complaining about the short skirts and high heels she wears, but Carol doesn't seem to care. And when I look down at her to give her the Host -- she's about four inches shorter than I am -- I can't help staring right down her blouse, so I know she doesn't wear a bra and doesn't seem to need one.

I have to be careful not to stare too long, though, because I don't want Mike to see. That's her husband. He's a big, beefy salesmen for auto parts, away from home a lot. Maybe it's because he has to leave Carol alone so often that he's so jealous. All I know is I wouldn't want to cross him.

As I slid open the panel covering my side of the grille, I tried to brush away the thoughts of Carol's body. She bears a strong resemblance to that actress, the one -- oh, that's it. Sophia Loren. Yes. And you can imagine it wouldn't be right to think about Sophia Loren's body in the confessional. I knew it would be tough, though, because her confessions usually weren't much help. The last time she came, she confessed to having sinful thoughts about a man of the cloth. I tried to cut her off, but she couldn't help giving me all the details of her thoughts, too. I gave her 10 Hail Marys and sent her off, but I was sweating like crazy.

This time she started off the usual way, telling me it had been a month since her last confession. How well I knew.

Then she started talking about her sins.

"Well, Father," she said, "I'm afraid I have a big sin to confess this time. Not just sinful thoughts, like the last time. Oh, Father, I'm so sorry for what I've done. I feel I must confess it in detail to cleanse myself. Don't you agree?"

She didn't even give me a chance to reply.

"It's like this, Father. Mike -- you know Mike, my husband? He's been gone a week now -- oh, and it seems like forever! And he won't be back for at least another week! I don't know how I can stand it! I just -- well, we women have needs, don't you know, Father? I mean, we do!

"Oh, let's see, where was I? I get so upset. Oh, yes. Mike's been gone, and I've been feeling a, well, a NEED, if you know what I mean. Really bad.

"So one day -- Wednesday, it was, about 4 in the afternoon -- it got so bad I just couldn't stand it. I just had to do it. I missed Mike so bad!

"What I did was, I went up to my bedroom. I got one of Mike's shirts out of the closet, one he'd already worn once or twice, so it had his smell on it. And then I got on the bed with it. And I -- I started touching myself. My breasts, my legs, even -- even down there.

"And it felt so good, Father. Not as good as when a man -- when Mike, I mean -- touches me, but good anyway.

"Pretty soon I started taking off my clothes. Right in the middle of the afternoon! Before you know it, I was completely naked. Not a stitch on. Lying right there on the bed, nude, rubbing Mike's shirt all over my body.

"I remember, I took one of the buttons and pulled it back and forth on my breasts, right on the nipples. They got stiff and stood out, you know how they do -- oh, that's right, you're a priest, you wouldn't know. Well, Father, you see, it's like this. When I rub my breasts, or get excited some way, my nipples get hard and stand out just like little pencil erasers.

"And when that happens, sometimes I get wet, down there -- you know what I mean. And that happened this time, too. I got really wet.

"So I touched myself there. Where my hole is, I mean? You must know about that. How women's vaginas get all wet and slippery, and then we just have to have something inside. That's how it was then. I had to have it!

"I put one finger in me, and then two! I was stroking them in and out, in and out so fast, and my butt was just bouncing up and down on the bed, the springs were creaking like crazy. I even put my thumb on my clitoris, and, oh, Father! I think I came right then!

"Had an orgasm, I mean. Right on the bed! By myself! Oh, that isn't a sin, is it? I mean, I know some people say you shouldn't play with yourself, but that can't be a SIN, can it? Even priest must -- oh, I shouldn't go saying things like that, should I?

"Anyway, that's not why I'm here. To talk about masturbating. Mine, I mean. It was what happened next.

"After I came, I just lay back on the bed for awhile, my legs spread out, juices oozing out of my cunt. Oh! I guess I shouldn't say -- oh, well, you've heard it all before, haven't you, Father? You don't mind.

"I was relaxing, but not completely. I mean, I felt good, but like I said, it's not as good as when a man does it. So I still had a NEED.

"And then the doorbell rang. I don't know what I was thinking, but I just threw on Mike's shirt and ran right down to answer it.

"Do you know who it was, Father? It was the paper boy! Little Tommy Cornelli. Well, he isn't so little anymore, he's almost, heavens, I guess, 14 by now. I remember when we first moved in to the parish, Tommy couldn't have been more than 7 or 8, just the cutest little thing, always looked like an angel in his altar boy cassock -- oh, but I'm getting away from my confession, aren't I?

"Well, where was I? Oh, Tommy. He was collecting for the Trib, you know, and we'd missed the payment the week before, so of course I told him I'd run and get the money.

"So I did, but I'd left the door open behind me and it was so cold outside that you can't fault Tommy for stepping inside. That's all he did, really, just take a step or two inside to warm up.

"I'd run into the den to get the spare change Mike keeps in the drawer there, and I was still counting out the quarters and nickels as I walked back to the front door. I was so startled to see Tommy standing inside I dropped the coins and bent right down to pick them up.

"They hit the wood floor with such a clatter! And they started rolling around just everywhere, and I had to lunge after them one by one. I must have been such a sight!

"Actually, I know I was -- a sight, I mean -- because when I got them all picked up and I stood up again I noticed that Tommy was just standing there with his mouth hanging open. I asked him what was wrong and he didn't say anything, he just stared.

"That's when I realized it. Like I said, I'd just thrown Mike's shirt on when I ran downstairs. Well, you know Mike, so you know his shirt's big on me, and with the tails hanging down it really covered me up pretty well when I first answered the door. But I was in such a hurry I'd forgotten to button the shirt up, and what with running back from the den and chasing those coins all over the floor that shirt had fallen wide open.

"So there I was, Father. Can you imagine it? Stark naked in front of Tommy Cornelli.

"Yes, just stark naked. My breasts just bouncing practically in his face, even. He could see everything.

"And he was looking at everything, too. I could see his eyes take me all in, head to toe. When he looked at my -- down there, you know -- I could feel myself getting wet all over again.

"And all he said was, 'Wow, Mrs. Klimaszewski.' Can you believe it? Still calling me Mrs. Klimaszewski? Isn't that so darling?"

"I guess I should have just wrapped the shirt back around myself and sent him on home. I know that's what I should have done. But I couldn't help myself, Father. It had been so long since I'd had a man. Tommy isn't really a man, not yet, but I could see a bulge in the crotch of his pants so I knew he had what I needed.

"And so here comes my sin, Father. Instead of wrapping that shirt back around me, I just took it right off and stood right there in front of that little boy, absolutely nude. I think he gasped.

"I could see he was a little frightened, so I took control. I walked right up to him and kissed him, smack on the mouth. I even used my tongue. And I took one of his hands in mine and put it right on my breast.

"He was shivering a little, but it didn't take long before he was rubbing me all over while I pulled off his clothes.

"That Tommy is quite a fine young man, Father. Not skinny, like some his age. He's got nice muscles, and he keeps himself clean and he's -- he's VERY mature, if you know what I mean. Heavens, it looked like he had a flagpole!

"And was it so very wrong, what I did, Father? I mean, it's not like Tommy didn't want to. Really, if he'd ever said no -- well, if he'd ever said anything -- I would have stopped right there. But he didn't say no. He didn't say anything. And so I had him lie down on the couch, on his back. And I got right on top of him, and I put my hole right over his pole, and I let myself ease down onto him.

"Oh, Father, it was so good! I was so wet, he slid right in! And he seemed to know just what to do. Of course, I did most of the work at first, sliding up and down on his pole. But he got the idea right away and started humping his hips right back up at me, burying himself inside me. It was wonderful!

"Can you imagine it, Father? Can you see what it was like? That young, innocent boy pushing his pole right into me, over and over and over again, deep into my hot, wet hole? And I was bouncing up and down on top of him, screaming and yelling I don't know what, just having the time of my life.

"Even so he was so young, his cock -- uh, I mean, his pole felt so good. It's true what they say, Father, that size doesn't matter.

"And it was so exciting to know I was his first. I got so hot thinking about how he was a virgin. I think that's the best sex ever, being someone's first time. I don't think I could ever say no to a man who said I would be his first.

"Anyway, Tommy came quickly, but that was OK. I just got off of him and started sucking on his rod, taking it all the way into my mouth, licking it and sucking on it hard. Before you know it, he was hard again!

"That time I got on my back and spread my legs for him, and he put it into me. It was even better than the first time, because he lasted forever. That little boy just about wore me out, jabbing that stiff pole of his into my hole over and over again. Can you imagine what he must have been feeling, Father? Here he was, a virgin, and his first time is with a woman like me. You can bet I showed him every trick I knew before we were through, and he looked darn glad to learn them.

"Well, that's my sin, Father, and it wasn't really such a bad one, was it? I mean, after all, my Mike is going to be gone for a whole 'nother week, and you just can't expect a girl to last that long without some help. Yes, that's right, he'll be gone all next week. I'll be all by myself."

It was tough to control my breathing enough to gasp out her penance. I'm afraid I may have told her to say 10 Male Hairies. I didn't quite know what I was saying. Carol is such a trial.

She seemed to linger in the booth for several minutes after I blessed her. When she finally left, I collapsed against the wall and fanned myself for several minutes. When I flicked on the light long enough to glance at my watch, I saw that it was past time for confessions, but to be honest, I was afraid to leave in case she was still out there, waiting for me. I just turned the light off and huddled there in the dark. It seemed much hotter than before.

I must have been there for a good 10 minutes when I heard the booth door opening again. I was surprised to hear Sister Stephanie's voice coming through the grille.

"Sister? Is that you?"

"Hi, Father Prestwick. I mean, uh, bless me, Father, for I have..."

"But, Sister, it's after hours. I..."

"Yeah, but I saw you still had the light on over your door. I was out all day helpin' out a soup kitchen they're startin' up, and I didn't have time to get back for confession, but I thought I'd just stop in for a prayer when I saw it. I'm sorry if I'm keepin' you from something. I mean, I can..."

"No, that's all right, Sister," I said with a sigh. "You just go on with it. This shouldn't take long, I presume."

And it shouldn't have. Sister Stephanie -- she insists people call her Sister Steve, but I find that difficult -- is a bit, well, unusual, for a nun, but she rarely steps far enough from the true path to have much to confess.

In fact, this time, she was through her list in just a couple of minutes. I suspected that with Father Dowling she'd spend more time in philosophical discussion, but she and I never had been very close.

Normally, after a confession, I just hand out the penance and bless them. But I was still shaken by Carol's story. That's all I can figure out, anyway, to explain what happened next.

You see, I asked Sister Stephanie if she was sure she had made a full confession. She seemed taken aback by my question, so I tried to reassure her.

"I'm not suggesting that you have intentionally avoided anything, Sister," I said. "But it's my job to make sure. And certainly it is in your best interest to make sure, too?"

"Yes, Father," she said, and then there was a little pause. "But I'm not sure I know what you mean. I did think over things before I came in, like always. I..."

"I'm sure you did. But there is nothing wrong with a little help. I'll just ask you a few questions, and I'm sure we will get through this smoothly. Is that all right?"

"Well, yeah, I guess..."

"Fine. Now, Sister -- Steve, can you recall ever wishing harm to anyone -- since your last confession, of course."

"Like I told you, I did have some bad thoughts about..."

"Yes, you did say that. But that was just wishing that person would be caught by the police. There is nothing wrong with wanting justice to win out. I'm talking about wishing evil about someone -- someone who had done you wrong, perhaps?"

"No, Father, I don't remember..."

"Not even some driver who splashed you with water at a curb? A parishioner in a bad mood? No one?"

"Well, I don't remember, but that might have happened. But I'm sure if it did, I stopped thinkin' it right away."

"Yes, but you see, just a few moments ago you were sure there had been nothing at all. I think we should go on." I leaned against the grille, trying to make out her outline amid the shadows. "Did you ever, just to yourself, take the Lord's name in vain?"

"No way! Well, maybe -- no, that doesn't count."

I tsk-tsked her in gentle remonstrance. "Now, Sister, this has to be a full confession."

"Well, I may have said the D-word once or twice -- to myself, I mean -- and, you know, it might have had a 'God' in front of it -- but I didn't mean it. Father, I don't mean to be arguing, but when I confess to Father Dowling we usually talk about more, um, more -- oh, I don't know, more important stuff?"