Dance of the Gypsy continued

        "Our Father," Father Thomas had begun to pray out loud, attempting to block out the words of the stranger.
        "Shut up you pious fraud," the stranger snapped.  "Your God can't hear you."
        "Who art in Heaven."
        "One more word and I'll tear your fucking tongue out."  The stranger beat against the dividing wall with his fist.  "Now, let me finish."

*                              *                              *

        It slides in easily, she is wet from her earlier activities and the blood that now seeps from her naked torso.  Her dying breath is a gargle like sigh, but it does not stop him.
        With increasing vigour he pounds into her motionless, warm corpse, a climax of epic proportions building within his groin.  As he reaches his peak he screams in pleasure, his body racked by sensual spasm. As the seed leaves his member and enters her body the once dead eyes snap open and her hands are at his neck.
        He thrashes at her in a vain attempt to free himself, but the knife is out of reach.  She grabs him around the throat and pulls him towards her mouth.
        "Kiss," she utters the single word before their lips touch and the pressure on his windpipe tightens.

*                              *                              *

        "I've served her ever since."  The stranger finished his confession and stared at Father Thomas's outline through the tiny meshed window that separated them.  "But I've finally found you and she will now allow me to die."
        Father Thomas sat frozen to the spot as he listened to the stranger.  His heart beat like a hammer in his chest at the sound of footsteps and the smell of her drifted in under the heavy red curtain.
        "He is here Martina."  The stranger made no attempt to get up.  "Now let me go.  I've suffered enough for my crime against you."
        "As you wish."  Her voice held the silken tone of an angel and only hinted at the beauty that both men remembered.
        In the adjoining cubicle the stranger exhaled a long breath, a sigh of relief and slumped forward as if in prayer.
        "I have searched so long."  Father Thomas watched as her fingers hooked around the edge of the curtain.  "My darling Lorca, how I have missed you."  She pulled the drape back swiftly and he stared up at her.
        "M-m-m-m my name is Thomas," he tried to deny the truth, but she stepped into the vestibule and kissed his forehead below his greying hairline.
        "I thought you loved me Lorca."  She pushed him back, shedding the cloak from her shoulders and standing before him naked.  "I loved you."  She began to dance just as he had pictured her so many times over the years, her body shimmering like a mirage.
        "You let him do this to me," she sung the words as she stripped away the beauty she had worn like a mask, pulling at the skin, peeling it away in long strips that she dropped at her feet.
        Father Thomas; Lorca stared at her and vomit rose in his throat as, under the facade she slowly revealed the decayed flesh and aged bone.
        "You left me."  The ravaged corpse continued to dance, once again moving closer to the confession booth and its living occupant.
        She stood before him, running her withered hands over her once stunning body.
        "But I forgive you."  As she clasped her bony fingers around his wrinkled throat she lowered her shrivelled lips to his and kissed him one final time.
        He stopped praying; if there was a God he was no longer listening.

                                                                                        THE END