Avarice
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Title Page
Copyright
Keep Up With Hildred
AVARICE
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Avarice
Sins of Mercy #2
Hildred Billings
BARACHOU PRESS
Avarice
Copyright: Hildred Billings
Published: July 8th, 2020
Publisher: Barachou Press
This is a work of fiction. Any and all similarities to any characters, settings, or situations are purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
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AVARICE
1
Tick tock. Tick tock.
The wall clock was about to drive Mercy insane.
“I could only afford a Ferrari this year,” said Bill, her most annoying coworker and a fellow manager. He sipped his coffee and smacked his lips as if a mere Ferrari were beneath him. “Girlfriend was damn angry. Daughter is also having a conniption because I told her she couldn’t go to France this summer. She’ll go to Italy with me, and she’ll like it.”
You have a daughter? Mercy sat at her desk, chomping on a nail while her leg bounced until it shook her whole body. If that fucking clock didn’t stop ticking soon, she would riot, and Bill would be the first victim of her justified rage.
“I envy you, Devereux.” Bill leaned against Mercy’s desk. “You live a simple life compared to the rest of us. Must be nice to have that little house and basic pleasures.”
Oh, no. He said that word.
Since Lust departed a few weeks ago, Mercy’s system was reinvigorated with the desires and needs of a sexual being. It felt fantastic that first week she was back in the dating game. How long had it been since she last experienced constant desire like she used to feel? Yet the lust that manifested consumed her body. And her mind. Mercy couldn’t watch TV or scroll through social media without scrutinizing every woman to grace her vision, even if that woman wasn’t normally her type. In real life…! For the first time ever, Mercy was grateful that her office was so male dominated. Every time she crossed paths with a woman, she was infused with such intense desire that she had to rush home and take care of it as soon as possible.
Or go find a place where that sort of thing was allowed. No questions asked. Faster than online dating, and more gratifying than cybersex.
Ten minutes before Bill arrived to chat about nothing, a girl from the mailroom – young, pert, and energetic – dropped off a folder for Mercy. For ten minutes Mercy imagined the disgusting things she wanted to do to that unassuming mailroom girl.
“Tell you what, Devereux,” Bill said, interrupting Mercy’s recurring fantasy. “At tomorrow’s meeting, we’ll probably be getting news about our quarterly bonuses. How about I take you to my weekend cabin for some relaxation, huh?”
Mercy looked up, nail bitten down to the skin. “Excuse me?”
Bill leaned forward, raising one of his eyebrows. “A woman with so much pent-up energy like you… come on, there are ways to get rid of that.”
Was he asking her out? For sex? This man who always had a girlfriend? Blech. Mercy pushed away from her desk and excused herself to the restroom.
The messed up thing? Bill was starting to look good, too. Preposterous, since Mercy had never been attracted to men. She knew it was the sin. Lust’s sin. Injected into her after their… sordid, no… amazing tryst. Mercy closed the bathroom door and bit her fist. She could still remember that lush goddess. Beautiful, tender, and so, so sweet to the tongue. Not fair! How dare that creature turn her into a vessel of carnal desire? It threatened to ruin Mercy’s life once more. What started as a blessing was quickly becoming a curse. A quickie with Bill on her desk sounded like it could give her enough reprieve for a whole hour!
Mercy sighed. Looked like another evening spent fucking herself for hours was on the docket. Was it the weekend? She could go out to the gay bar and find some poor woman to put up with her for a night. It worked at the club she had been going to every weekend since Lust flew into her life. God, Mercy had no problems with the one hookup club in the city, but she hadn’t been to a proper gay bar since before Marissa.
There was one way to kill her libido for a few minutes, and that was to think of Marissa.
Depressed, Mercy slipped into a bathroom stall and did her business. All sorts of business, since the lust returned the moment she remembered the way Marissa used to make love.
“Fuck you, stupid-ass deity,” Mercy mumbled, as she flipped the toilet lid down and dropped her pants. “You’ve turned me into a goddamn sex machine who touches herself in the women’s restroom.” Good thing the only other woman to ever come into the restroom was the secretary. Who looks awfully nice today. Fuck. Me.
Thinking of Marissa was the most painful thing. Mercy didn’t know if she should cry in despair or relief when she got what she wanted and finally launched out of the women’s restroom to grab her things and get the hell out for the weekend.
Don’t let them see your mess of an outfit. As the weather warmed up that past month, Mercy struggled to find appropriate clothing that both kept her warm and prevented the whole office from seeing her nipples or matching the flush in her cheeks with the sweat in her cleavage. Mercy couldn’t help it! Once her imagination inevitably wandered off, her body heated up and she couldn’t stop sweating. The only way to take care of it is to rip off my clothes, hop in the shower, and let God have me. Sometimes that meant thumping her forehead against the tile. Other times, that meant grabbing the showerhead.
Most of her coworkers huddled around the conference table, laughing and trading the kind of offensive jokes Mercy would have been brave enough to report to HR almost anywhere else. Here, however, it was her word against a room full of men. There was one woman on the HR staff. The secretary stayed far away from the mess, although Mercy also fell prey to the rumors that she was sleeping with Pete, one of the other managers now yucking it up in the conference room. Mercy saw a stack of folders on the table and knew everyone was supposed to grab one to read through at home. Probably to do with the next meeting, which she would absolutely need to be prepared for if she wanted a shot at a promotion in the coming months.
“…Yeah, dykes be crazy,” Bill said, hands in pockets. Mercy pushed open the glass door leading into the conference room and immediately regretted it. “Some of them are hot, though.”
“Seriously?” That was Charlie, another coworker, though not as high up on the food chain as either Bill or Mercy. “You ever meet a hot lesbian in your life? I’m not talking about porn, man. Those are straight chicks having fun, anyway. I’m talking about real life. I’ve yet to see it.” Looking at those two in their bespoke suits made Mercy grumble as she picked up her folder and headed home.
Too much energy coursed through her. While the sun remained up in that early evening, she decided to march to a farther rail station than usual. What she didn’t count on, however, was the cool air tickling her skin and reawakening the lust once more. A beautiful woman with long, golden hair walked by, reminding Mercy of the iridescent being who had blown into her guest room with red on her lips and cherry-stained thighs. Mercy needed that deity back in her bedroom, reclaiming some of that sin.
“Poor Mercy. You sorely must be tempered.”
She s
topped in the middle of the sidewalk the moment she heard Acedia’s voice. “Where are you?” Mercy whipped her head around, half-expecting to see Acedia or one of her avatars standing behind her. There was only a man in a business suit, on her phone and hurrying past her.
“I am beside you, but I am nowhere. I merely watch you.”
“And listen to my thoughts, apparently,” Mercy muttered.
A little girl wearing a Hello Kitty backpack glared at her in bemusement. Yeah, yeah, she was talking to herself. Par for the course in that part of the city.
“I’ve been watching you closely since Lust returned to me. We fear that you may have received a bit too much sin from her.”
“You fucking think?” Mercy stopped in front of a shop window and pretended to be entranced with the dresses before her. She was this close to taking out her cell phone for a fake conversation.
“She says she couldn’t help herself. It had been so long since she last made love to a mortal woman.”
“Sounds like your problem, then. Do something about it.”
Acedia must have been gone. Or, more likely, it took her too long to sort her immortal thoughts. “We’re working on it. Why don’t you distract yourself from your lust?”
“With what?” What a joke! Especially since everything reminded her of sex! Including the damn headless mannequins looked good enough to take on a date!
“There are other sins for you to indulge in.”
“That’s great. I don’t care about any of them. Isn’t that what you’re trying to fix?”
A couple whispered behind her before scurrying away. Mercy finally pulled out her cell phone and held it to her ear. I can’t believe I’m this desperate. Didn’t she, though? This was her life now. Constantly thinking about sex while everyone else around her went about their usual business. She suffered alone. The poor thing.
“Look into that window. Isn’t there anything you want?”
Mercy glanced back to the shop display. Three mannequins lined up in a row, each wearing the latest fashion trends. Once upon a time, Mercy used to look in shop windows with Marissa. “One day, we’ll buy this shit like it’s nothing,” she used to say in that sniveling way of hers. Most people found it insufferable, but Mercy was drawn to Marissa’s drive and ambitions. No matter how they were packaged in a snotty tone. “One day, we’ll buy a big, fancy house and fill it with junk we’ll never use, because we can.” Marissa would always laugh before slapping Mercy’s ass. Now, Mercy knew that meant she was just another piece of useless junk to disappear into Marissa’s big and fancy dreamhouse.
All Mercy could see right now were the curves beneath the fashion. The mannequins’ svelte, plastic physiques, and how pleasing they would be to grab.
Fuck, she needed an exorcist!
“I suggest you go home, Mercy.”
Mercy shoved her phone back into her pocket. Enough playing games with a meddling deity. She had things to care of – like herself. There I go, thinking of myself as somebody’s thing.
Mercy caught the next train to her neighborhood, eyes off any of the alluring women walking by or sitting next to her. Every day she played that game – and every day, the first thing she did when she got home was lock herself in her bedroom and go to town with her own body. At first, it was fun. Invigorating, even. To think! Being reminded of her sexuality was an adventure! She could feel good without Marissa. She could feel good by herself, although on that first weekend after Lust’s visit, she was inclined to find a warm body to share her bed.
Now, however, such desire was torture. Mercy was a slave to the sin of lust.
Thankfully, it was dark when she reached her neighborhood. Mercy may not see any of the women around her in detail, but she heard their laughter and smelled their perfume. That was almost worse than admiring them for their subtle looks. Scents stayed in the mind longer, and laughter – sweet, feminine laughter – made her pine for those early days with Marissa, before she transformed into a cruel mistress.
Lament built inside Mercy as she pulled out her key and opened her front door. By the time she stepped inside, she had already decided what to do with her sorry, stressful night.
She was going out. It was what she had done every Friday night that month. Mercy might as well get a damn membership to the club now.
—-
The toughest thing about being an otherworldly deity cavorting with the mortal realm wasn’t knowing when and when not to use her abilities. Acedia was good at that, at least. However, her weakest ability was, by far, keeping track of time.
To a goddess, time meant nothing. Not that she could time travel. She possessed many godly abilities, but time travel was not one of them. A minute might as well mean a year. A year could be a hundred. When Acedia decided to step back from her first true encounter with Mercy and reassess her approach going forward, she didn’t intend to be gone for a month. Usually, she spaced her visits about a week apart. A week was plenty of time for most of her subjects to get used to their new normal and prepare for the next visit. Except Acedia had failed to consider what a month really meant to a mortal who lived in the new, post-industrial world. Stress was everywhere. Time flew by quicker than it did in the ancient world. Hell, the medieval world moved slower than this! A goddess could see that from her lofty heights.
Yet when Acedia lay her weary head down and swore she was “taking a bit of a nap to sort her thoughts,” she jerked up a whole month later, chastising herself for leaving Mercy hanging for so long.
When she checked in on her, Acedia saw a woman who was making… choices. Yes, that’s a word for it. Choices. Perhaps Mercy was no longer on the brink of jumping off a bridge, but she might set herself up for a future of other issues if she continued this string of one-night stands. There is such a thing as too much sin… Acedia only had herself to blame. After all, Mercy’s healing was Acedia’s responsibility. If she failed… well, this is why I took a nap.
Acedia had to act. Quickly. Regardless if she was prepared to enter Phase 2 with a woman currently heading to a nightclub where she only had one thing in mind.
Remember Rome? You can handle this. Those were the days, when Acedia strolled into a public bath and draped herself behind her woman of the moment. Nobody looked twice at her. Perhaps one of her worshippers was in the room, beside herself with excitement once she realized who Acedia was. Those were the days when Acedia could whisper into a girl’s ear and be followed into the pristine, virgin forests, where making merry was a pastime. Since they were two women, few looked their way. “I see she has a new friend,” someone might say about the young Roman women. “Let’s hope she does her some good.”
That was the last time Acedia was openly worshipped by her personal cult of mortals, when she had a new subject every few months and they came together to carry on her traditions. After the fall of the Roman Empire and the embracing of Christianity, her cult fled to the shadows. Those she continued to help were afraid to be caught worshipping her, not that she ever asked for their worship. She didn’t heal women because she wanted worship. Acedia did it because that’s why she was created. She didn’t know who created her. Maybe it was that Jupiter the Romans were so concerned with, but Acedia had been associated with other supreme beings since the birth of humanity. Lilith was once supposedly her dark sister. Brigid was her closest confidant. Artemis was her foil in the ancient world, right up there with Minerva and Hathor.
She didn’t know any of them, of course. Couldn’t vouch for their existence. Gods kept to themselves, unless they were created together – then they were very much involved with one another, although it often manifested in righteous, heavenly duty more than a love for whoever they shared the stars with in infinity.
Rome. She needed to focus on her memories of Rome. That’s when she was at her peak. She had helped so many women that the few she lost to the darkness were inconsequential to her overall outlook. Funny how a few failures can change me so much. If Acedia approached Mercy like she approach
ed so many of those Roman women, well…
Maybe there was a chance. First, though, she had to properly do her job.
Where was Mercy now? Heading out for another night of painful fun? Acedia had to think quickly. She couldn’t simply stroll into a club, wave her hands and make everyone who saw her instantly forget about her. She had to look the part. The avatar splitting from her soul couldn’t make a fool out of Mercy in public. Luckily for Acedia, she was so in tune with her process that she immediately followed her instincts.
From her throne, which was neither heavenly nor domestic, Acedia wrapped herself in her protective cocoon. But not before that same tickle from a month before slithered through her body, detaching itself from the tips of her fingers and the depths of her eyes. As sunset spread across the land, her vigorous soul joined the warm, unadulterated hues that delighted the mortals gazing upon it or through their electronic screens. The feminine figure traipsing down the street wrapped her arms around anyone she saw, blowing a warm kiss on their cheeks and laughing into the annals of their subconsciousness.
Many of those people soon realized that they were missing something. Their keys. Their wallet. Their phone. Maybe a little dignity as well,
Acedia’s avatar didn’t need any of these things. She dropped them wherever was convenient, usually within direct sight of those who struggled to find their missing items. No, the only reason to make a giant inconvenience out of somebody’s life was to prove she could. It was the thrill. Every time she pilfered something long enough to get away with it, she was reassured that she still had the spark.
Now, where the hell was Mercy, and how quickly could the avatar steal her dignity?
2
Before the breakup, Mercy had spotted a cozy downtown club that looked like a fun getaway for the likes of her and Marissa. Naturally, Marissa hated it. Everything, from the location, to the appearance of the people going inside, were soooo not her “aesthetic.” As soon as she found out exactly what kind of nightspot it was? Mercy went to bed thinking she was the biggest pervert on the planet.