“The Bible says, ‘Preserve me, OGod: for in thee do I put mytrust’. Do you trust God, Kateri?”
“Of course,” Donna declared through a breath.
“Do you trust God’s prophet?”
“I do. You know that, Miss Clara.”
Donna was afraid she’d barf if Clara put forth one more phony ass biblical inquiry.
“Well, now it’s time to prove your love for the Lord, and your love for the prophet. There are things we need for our church, for our family, if we are to succeed in preparing this world for the Lord. In order to get the things we need, you’ll have to prove your loyalty to the prophet,andyour love for God. You’ll preserve your immortal soul by sacrificing your body.”
“My body?” Donna played dumb. She was going force Clara to spell it out.
“Yes, my love. Come with me.”
Clara extended her hand and waited for Donna to take it. Of course, she did. Then, she allowed her to escort her across the ballroom and out of the rear exit. Just beyond the door, a car waited. Together, she and Clara walked to the car. Another member, who was posing as a chauffeur, held the door to the backseat open for them. Donna slid into the backseat and waited for Clara to get in. Soon after, the driver hopped in and drove off.
“Where are we going?”
Clara didn’t answer. She just reached over and placed her hand over Donna’s.
Donna looked out of the window. They were passing the main dormitory where she slept every night. Just a few feet from her living quarters, they pulled in front of one of the few modern buildings on the property. During many of her exploratory walks, she would often walk past the large building. Yet, she’d never been inside.
Once the car stopped, Clara opened the door without waiting for the driver. Without being told, Donna climbed out behind her.
“Come,” Clara urged.
They walked a short walkway to the front door. Clara pulled a set of keys from her handbag and unlocked the door. When they stepped inside, Donna was floored. They were standing in a foyer that could rival the interior of the Governor’s Mansion.
“Oh, my God,” Donna marveled through a gasp.
Clara sighed. “It’s beautiful, yes?”
“Oh,yes.”
“I designed it myself,” she bragged. “It’s where we entertain. Well, it’s where you’ll entertain.”
Donna was tempted to jam one of her acrylic nails into Clara’s back. She couldn’t wait until the day Clara would have to answer for her crimes. To her, she was worse than the so-called prophet. She was a woman who had a major role in the sexual exploitation of other women. She was nothing more than Bobby Lee’s bottom bitch.
“Come with me.”
Clara led her up a winding staircase and down a long, lantern-lit hall with French-inspired décor. Near the end of the hall, she opened a door. It was a bedroom, but not an average bedroom. It was exquisite. The walls, furnishings, and linen were well-placed splashes of rich creams and gleaming golds. The giant poster bed was covered by a sheer cream canopy with gold, woven tassels.
“Enjoy, my darling. You have all night to bask in this luxuriousness.”
Donna whipped around just as Clara was walking out of the room.
“Wait!Where are you going?”
She gave no reply as she closed the door.
“Clara!” Donna called out as she hurried to the door. She turned the knob and yanked at the door, but it was locked from the outside. Out of frustration, she kicked the door. As if everything else going on in the cult wasn’t bad enough, she’d just been taken prisoner.
“Unbelievable!” she fumed.
She pushed off the door and moved further into the bedroom. She’d allowed herself to be backed into a corner, like a trapped rat, and time was something she definitely didn’t have. Any minute, Bobby Lee was going to come in, sprinkle holy water of something on her, and declare himself her husband so he could get his rocks off. But Donna had absolutely no plans on being his human pin cushion. She was sure if she turned him down, he would try to force himself on her. But, if he wanted her that bad, he would have to fuck her dead, rotten corpse.
She ran over to a door across the room and flung the double-doors open. It was an empty closet. There was no clothing, no hangers. Nothing she could use as a weapon. She slammed the doors and ran around the bed to another door. She’d assumed it was a bathroom, and she was right.
