So many things went through my mind.
I was thirty-eight now and I had stopped flirting with young women, I didn't even date. The only sex I got was from prostitutes down in Mexico, but mostly I paid them to tell me what they knew about the kidnapping and white sex slave racket.
They didn't know much.
One time I thought I saw Veronica working the streets in the hooker district on Tijuana. Looked like Veronica from the back. No, the girl was Mexican and had a blonde dye job.
I kept looking and seeing out information until I turned forty.
I joined the church Donna and Veronica's parents were members of and they accepted me-the parents and congregation-and told me I was forgiven by Jesus.
I wish I could fool myself into believing that.
Now, I wonder if any of it ever happened. If I made it all up and I'm locked up in the bughouse somewhere, creating scenarios like that one fantasy of waking up to both of them down in my crotch.
I have written this account down to convince myself that it did all happen, and that I will never be forgiven for what I did with those two sinful sisters.