Secret Sins Ch. 07

"And that's why you feel the way you do. You feel shame and guilt for your desires more than your actions."

"(Ahem) Yes."

"Why?"

" ... Because, I... that's not who I am," I replied as though that should be obvious.

"No offense but, obviously, it is."

I only looked at her, offended anyway, but she continued.

"You're a perverted, horny young woman, and that auction turned you on even though you knew it was wrong. And you wanted to be used like that, so you stepped up on that stage with the convenient excuse of fear as a motivator. Sure, fear played a part, but we both know that it was really desire that put you on that stage."

"I fought them," I defended in a small voice. "When they led me down off that stage through the crowd, I resisted."

"And I bet you enjoyed every second of that little act, eh? Especially since that resistance was half sincere."

It was true, but I couldn't reply. I could only stare at her, wondering why she was doing this to me, but not having to wait long for her explanation.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. I'd have loved to live that as you, would give almost anything to have at least been there to watch it, but alas... Anyway, my point is that you feel bad about it because you want to feel bad about it."

"I- What?! I feel bad about it because it was wrong."

"Says who?"

"Everyone," I argued. "Society. That's why you don't see people screwing willy-nilly in the street."

"That would disrupt traffic," she joked with mocking disapproval.

"Donna," I complained with the barest smile.

"I would point out here," she sighed, taking a mid-sentence break to sip from her glass, "Mm, this is really quite good. I would point out here that, obviously, not everyone does think that it's wrong. By what you've told me, nobody else there seemed to have a problem with it."

"Well, the girls who were being auctioned off sure as hell seemed to," I retorted. "And, as far as everyone else goes, they don't count because they're all a bunch of rich heathens who think they're too high and mighty for God's Law anyway."

"And now we get down to the meat of the issue," Donna declared.

"That's right," I fired back. "Even Major Hurdle knew better than to get involved in an orgy, because he knows that rampant carnality is wrong."

"I'm sorry... is this the same Major Hurdle who actually organized said orgy before exploiting you along with the rest of those young women while using scripture to justify it?"

I rolled my eyes, knowing it was a bad point when I'd brought it up, but explained, "My point is that even he knows better than to dirty himself by taking his clothes off and actually joining in."

"But not better than to jerk himself off while he's watching a subordinate masturbating in front of him so he can later use that to blackmail her into doing what he sees as spiritually damaging. Yeah, a real class act, that Major Hurdle."

I rolled my eyes again, shaking my head as I looked away without pursuing that lost cause any further.

"So," she relentlessly pressed, "you got what you wanted, enjoyed it quite thoroughly, and now you're choosing to feel bad about it because you perceive that society dictates you should. At this juncture, I feel like I should point out that the overwhelming majority of society is made up of hypocrites. In fact, I seem to recall you once telling me that your father says that everyone is a hypocrite. A wise observation, to be sure. You feel bad about getting what you wanted and having enjoyed it because you think you're supposed to, this according to the moral code of a society that habitually supresses its own nature, its true feelings and beliefs about what right and wrong really is. You're holding your personal morality up to hypocrisy and lies. I mean, did you think you're the only one who's addicted to online pornography? Are you aware that seventy percent of the interned is porn? Seventy percent. That's a lot of hypocrites. So tell me, Tara, why do you think that is? Why is it that society as a whole is so full of such lies and hypocrisy?"

"I don't know," I answered, shrugging my shoulders in exasperation with this.

"Well, I'm not just going to tell you," she informed. "I think you've had way too much of people telling you what to think, so it's time you took responsibility for your own mind and started thinking for yourself. Why is the group mentality of society so full of lies and self-deceptions, full of hypocrisy and denial?"

"I don't know!" I told her, starting to become angry.

"How do you define yourself? Can you tell me that?"

" ... Christian," I warily answered. "I'm a Christian, saved by the blood of Christ."

"Why?"

"Because... because that's what I believe in!"

"Well, you also believe that you're your parents' daughter, and you have a hell of a lot more evidence to support that, so why not define yourself as your parents' daughter over and above your spiritual beliefs?"

"Because that's not what defines me. I follow Christ, not my parents."

"Is it fair to say that it was your parents' example that led you to your beliefs, to CFOT, no less?"

" ... Yes, I suppose," I admitted, "But Christ still comes first in my life."

"Your beliefs surrounding Christ, to be exact. Actually, your parents' beliefs surrounding Christ, to be much more exact. But, as for your own, did you choose this belief that you define yourself by?"

"Of course I did," I replied, my anger having melted away to be replaced with care as to where this garden path was leading. "I'm sure you know that accepting Christ as one's personal saviour is purely voluntary."

"And expected. At least for you, given that both your parents are Salvation Army Officers, and that expectation puts a different slant on your voluntary belief system, but we'll get back to that later. For right now, my point is that you define yourself by a belief that you've chosen for yourself. Along with this belief comes a certain set of rules that one must live by in order to be part of the belief, this being God's Law, as you put it a few minutes ago. And part of God's law is to refrain- at least try to refrain- from carnality, what John Calvin referred to as 'total depravity', a state that pretty much every one of the many Christian denominations agree on as being human nature.

"And from this comes your shame and self-loathing, not only for taking part in what happened a couple nights ago, but also for your porn addiction and even simple masturbation. Am I right?"

I nodded.

"So, why is society so hung up on its hypocrisy and self-deceptions?"

" ... Because of God's Law," I reluctantly admitted.

"And the prize goes to the scrumptious young lady with the big tits," Donna remarked with a self-satisfied grin. "So, you've chosen your belief, a belief that's in direct conflict with your own human nature and, in so doing, you've also chosen a law that nobody is even capable of upholding, which is what creates your shame and self-loathing, essentially a guilt complex for being human."

"Nice argument, but I think you're forgetting that Christ died in order to fulfill that law. In him, Christians don't live by the law."

"No?" she asked, mocking surprise with a raised brow. "Then why are you so guilt-ridden right now?"

"I... That's not... You're twisting things!"

"No, I'm not, sweetie pie," she laughed. "You chose your beliefs based on what your parents and the social circles they ran in preached- quite literally in their case- and, in choosing that belief, you choose to try flying in the face of nature, in turn choosing to feel what you feel when you eventually fall from the unrealistic heights of Christianity's expectations of you, landing face down in a horrible pit of self-hatred and disappointment. You choose to feel this because you have to in order to support your belief system."

"It's not just a belief system!" I almost barked, becoming angry with her summation of my faith. "It's the truth!"

"Prove it."

"I can't prove it, Donna, and you well know it! Faith is the-!"

"'Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen,'" she tiresomely quoted. "Hebrews, 11:1. Or, how about this one? 'Not in the words which man's wisdom teacheth, but which the Holy Ghost teacheth.' First Corinthians, 2:13, one of the Bible's many warnings against what society's enlightened now refer to as the critical thought process, a serious danger to any cult."

"The Gospels are not a cult!" I almost shouted.

"Maybe you should look up the definition of the word, 'cult'," she suggested. "However, let's just leave that aside for a- hey, where you going?"

"I'm leaving!" I angrily replied, making my way to the submerged stairs. "I've had enough of your heresy and lies! I won't stand here listening to you defile the truth with your twisting and-!"

But she stood, placing a hand on my upper chest to push me backward, saying, "Nope."

As I lost my balance with a yelp, letting go of my drink and falling backward into the water with my legs kicking up in front of me, she grabbed my bikini bottoms, yanking them down. With my head underwater, arms and legs flailing, she easily whisked them down past my feet and right off. When I was able to regain my footing, spitting water and pushing my soaked hair back out of my face, I was enraged, especially at the humoured grin on her face as she stood there dangling my bikini bottoms from her fingers.

"Give them back!"

"After I'm done."

"Now!" I defied, moving forward to take them.

But something stopped me. It was the expression in her face, a look in her eyes that told me I didn't want to take another step forward with those intentions. It's not as though she would have hurt me, I knew she wouldn't, but some subtle thing about her, maybe the way she shook her head in warning made me think twice. And remembering how easily she'd picked me off the couch to bodily drag me to the bathroom so I could upchuck in the toilet rather than in my living room convinced me to step back. Physically challenging Donna Liski probably wasn't a good idea, and that belief was suddenly as strong in my mind as was my faith in Christ.

"If you want to leave, I suppose that's up to you," she informed, still dangling my dripping bikini bottoms with that subtly dangerous smile, "but you won't be leaving with these."

She dropped them, and I watched them undulate on the roiling surface for a moment before they sank and disappeared. Then she sat back down, taking a sip of her drink while eying me as though waiting for my decision. Obviously, I was staying, and she took my angry, tight lipped expression of resignation as evidence of this decision as I looked away from her, distractedly eying my cup as it bobbed on the water's surface eddies.

"Sorry about your drink," she offered. "But the manager should be around soon, and we can have him fetch another for you. I know you're mad at me right now, and I'm sorry that this stuff upsets you, but you're not happy and I'd like to help you to change that. See, that's not something I can really do for you. Well, I can, but it wouldn't be real. You need to find happiness on your own, and I'm not just talking about how you feel regarding what happened Saturday night. You're unhappy because you carry around a lot of guilt and feelings of unworthiness that your true nature as a person, as a human being will always trigger, and neither one of us can change your nature.

"So I'm going to help you to zero in on where that guilt is really coming from and why. Then you can not only find yourself, but understand and accept yourself for who and what you are beyond the delusions of the theological expectations that you've adorned yourself in."

She was right, I was mad at her, but I was also buzzed enough to enjoy standing there naked below the waist in a public setting, even though my lower half was hidden beneath the frothing water's surface. It was an inconvenient turn on for me just then, not only because it was a distraction from the issue at hand, but because I knew it only lent credibility to what she was saying.

"You won't destroy my faith," I defiantly told her.

"I'm not trying to. I don't have to. I'm only trying to let you see it for what it really is and always has been. For example, you've just referred to the Gospels as truth, but you also base your beliefs on them, beliefs which you've just admitted that you can't prove. Truth is defined with proof. Beliefs are really nothing more than personal theories, at best supported by some evidence. The Gospels are nothing more than an idea presented to the mind as a possible truth. One possible truth.

"Because the controlling brunt of North American society was Christian in its early days, this particular possible truth is the most popular one here, as it is in Europe. In East India, however, it is not. If you'd been born there, your parents would have been Hindu, perhaps Muslim or Sikhs. They would have held those beliefs as truths because that's the popular religion in that particular society, in that particular part of the world. On the other hand, if you'd been born in Asia, chances are high that your personal version of truth would have been taught to you in the form of Buddhism, Taoism, Confucianism, Shinto, or whatever.

"So," Donna summed up, "theological truth seems curiously dependant on geographical location. Doesn't it?"

I had no answer for this, but she pressed.

"Doesn't it, sweetie pie?"

"Donna, I know what you're doing, and it's not going to work," I huffed as I took my seat again, hoping the hotel manager would be there soon.

"Don't be a chicken shit."

"Okay, I have no answer for that!" I snapped. "Happy now?"

"Yes, I am. I've been happy for a good long time, ever since I figured out all this stuff for myself, but this isn't about my happiness. As I've said, this is about you and yours. I don't like seeing you torture yourself the way you do, so I'm forcing this process of critical thought past your theological delusions so that you can find happiness with who and what you really are."

"Oh, really?" I sneered. "Do tell me, Donna: who am I, really?"

"That's a pretty loaded question, the full answer to which I'm certainly willing to help you to. In time. For now, let's just start with your base motivations, shall we?"

"Whatever," I sighed. "It's not like I have a choice."

"Yes you do. I told you that, and you've chosen to stay here. Anyway, let's talk now about these base motivations of yours, your sex drive in particular. As I've said, you, are a very horny young woman. In a sense, your constricting theological beliefs have made you even hornier because they've convinced you that those very natural drives are wrong and that you need to forbid them to yourself. For you, everything is taboo and, I have to admit, I do love that about you. But have you ever stopped to ask yourself why God, or at least your chosen version of God, would make you in such a way that you would have these very strong drives and desires, but only to forbid you from satisfying them?"

"The fall," I woodenly replied.

"Ah, yes, the great and tragic fall of mankind. I do love this one. God creates the world and all the animals, male and female... and Adam. Oops, but he forgets to create a female human for Adam. Silly God! So Adam has to actually ask for a companion before this great creator of all makes him one to run around with him, both with the innocent mindsets of children in this lovely garden of peace and harmony on Earth. And smack dab in the middle of this paradise, he puts the tree of life, telling them not to ever eat of that tree. Everything else in the garden is fine, but not the fruits of this particular tree. In addition, for some inexplicable reason, God allows Satan, his great and evil enemy, into the garden. So one day, God drops by to check on the children and, what's this? Satan has convinced the kids to eat of the tree of life?!"

Here, she took a short break to laugh silently at her insulting little viewpoint of Genesis while I only stared reproachfully, not deigning to comment.

"Well, what the fuck did he think would happen? This all knowing entity who supposedly knows the future, knows each of us long before we're ever even born. Kinda dropped the ball there, didn't he? So, what does he do? He punishes Adam and Eve! Sure, that makes sense. I mean, nobody likes to take responsibility for their own fuck ups, and we all know in what direction shit rolls, don't we? And it's been rolling ever since, every human being who's ever lived being held responsible for this 'fall of mankind'.

"Now, I don't know about you but, in my book, that is totally ridiculous. If I were to believe that, I'd have to believe that God is a psycho, and that's far from the only example of God's psychotic behaviour towards humanity in your accursed Bible. This is just one example among hundreds. It's a fairy tale, Tara. All religions are nothing more than silly, superstitious fairy tales, contrived to control the masses, and I personally give God, who or whatever he is, a lot more credit than to believe in any of them. Shouldn't you?"

"I refuse to participate in this," I growled.

"Then just listen," she replied as she suddenly looked toward the pool area's entrance. "Oh, there's the manager, and he's brought drinks."

Proving her claim accurate, the manager stepped up to the edge of the hot tub, crouching low to serve Donna her drink, saying, "I thought it best to bring fresh beverages with me in case you were ready."

"You thought right," Donna told him with a smile.

"Excuse me, please," I spoke up.

"Yes, Madam?"

"Can I trouble you to please bring me a towel?"

"No, you can't," Donna answered for him.

Looking at me, he delivered an apologetic expression before I insisted, "Don't listen to her. Please bring me a towel."

"I'm sorry, Madam," he replied, his regrets sincere.

In frustration and suspicious curiosity, I glared at Donna, but she only said, "Come get your drink, sweetie pie."

Moments later, I returned to my seat, still regarding Donna with the same feelings as she watched the manager leave.

"I like him," she said before turning to continue preaching her antichrist message to the captive audience that was me. "Where was I, anyway? Ah, yes, contrived belief systems to control the masses. So, with this in mind, ask yourself once again: Where does society's hypocrisies and self-deluded lies come from? That's right: religion. We've all had a glass of the cool-aid, no matter what the flavour we've chosen. Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Hindi... all the same recipe of sugary guilt, but with different flavours."

"There you go again," I pointed out, "implying that Christianity is a cult. But the difference between a cult and Christianity is the leadership. Cults are run by crazy people like Jim Jones and David Koresh, attracting displaced, vulnerable and gullible people who are looking for someplace to belong. Christianity is a recognized religion of millions."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed. "Both David Koresh and Jim Jones believed in what they preached every bit as much as the leaders of these recognized churches. Furthermore, anyone who requires a spiritual father figure to tell them what to think, how to act and what to believe is just as displaced, vulnerable and willingly gullible as anyone who ever followed Jones and Koresh. I would also point out that the number of people who believe in an idea is in no way an indicator of that idea's veracity. It was only a few hundred years ago that most people, more than in any one religion, believed that the Earth was flat. The majority doesn't hold truth, Tara, but only the security of many likeminded individuals to reinforce your own beliefs and hypocrisies."