In our initial survey of Sly Bucks’ massive bedroom, one of the uniformed cops discovered a laptop computer under one of the pillows of the billionaire’s bed. It was several days before I had the time to consider what it might contain. I called one of the nerds in our computer section and asked for some help, assuming that everything on the laptop would be password secured.

I had completely forgotten about the computer until three days later, one of the computer geeks showed up at my door. “I’m told there’s a laptop you need hacked?” he said, leaning against the door frame, looking utterly uninterested.

“Yeah,” I answered, reaching for the laptop. “We’re working on a murder case. This machine was found in the vic’s bedroom. I’d like to know what’s in it.”

“Have you tried turning it on?”

“No,” I answered, more than a little pissed to be asked such a stupid question. But as a female detective, I was accustomed to condescending remarks like his. “The vic was a billionaire. I’m sure he had password protection on everything. That’s why I called the experts.”

The man sat down on the corner of my desk and pressed the computer power button. “It’s a nice model,” the expert told me as he inspected it. “This baby probably costs more than six grand.”

“Money was never a problem for Mr. Bucks,” I replied as I watched.

In less than five minutes, the geek pushed the computer toward me. “Here ya go, Detective. This rich guy must have been pretty certain he was safe. I can’t find anything in the files that are protected. It looks like he used a lot of memory for videos. There isn’t much in the way of documents. He must have used this one for enjoyment.”

“Thanks for the help,” I grunted, surprised at what the geek told me. As the man walked out of my office, I opened a folder entitled Videos. “I see what you mean,” I said to the room as I scrolled down a list of videos. “Fuck me!” I said out loud, seeing there were at least two hundred. The files were grouped together under headings like “HH” and “RC.”

“What the hell are these?” I again said aloud as I clicked on RC1. Suddenly the screen lit up with the face of Rosie Cheeks. She was smiling at the camera and undressing. I took my eyes from the computer screen to see if anyone was looking in the large window to my office. We had stringent rules stating that porn could not be watched in the squad room. But then I reasoned that I was investigating a case and needed to follow every lead. By the time the video showed Rosie completely naked, I had an understanding of why Mr. Bucks liked to have her around.

Rosie was stunning! What a body! Rosie was a beautiful woman, with woman being the keyword. She had a woman’s body with rounded hips and full breasts. For an actress who had spent over ten years in the porn business, she was still a hot babe. I remembered that Rosie was one of the first porn stars to squirt on camera.

I closed the video and opened one labeled HH4. This film opened with a naked Heidi Honeypot on a large chair holding a giant dildo. Like the last one, this movie was definitely homemade. This one quickly removed any doubt that Mr. Bucks was amusing himself with the woman Rosie Cheeks had attacked the night of the party.

Looking at the directory, I found IJB, making me believe that Buck’s assistant, Ima Jean Butkis, did have more than a business relationship with her boss. There was not a file PP, for Purdy Purity. The young woman had denied having a sexual relationship with Mr. Bucks. Perhaps this was proof.

But the file that got my attention was labeled, FB. Who could that be? I couldn’t think of anyone on my suspect list with those initials. There were only three videos in the FB file, so it was simple enough to find out.

I opened FB1 and immediately shouted, “Fuck Me!”

One of the young detectives stuck his head in my office door. “Everything all right, boss?”

“Yeah, Yeah. I’m fine. I just found some surprising evidence in the Bucks case. Go back to your desk,” I growled. I got up to close my office door and returned to the laptop. Making certain no one could see the computer screen, I started the video again. There on the display was Father Bottomore in his black priest cassock . What the hell was the priest from the largest Catholic Church in the city doing in Sly Bucks’ bedroom?

The reason soon became apparent. A voice behind the camera instructed Bottomore to remove his clothes. Within a few minutes, I was surprised to see the priest standing naked in front of the camera. I was also surprised to see that Bottomore had a muscular tanned body. “What a waste,” I mumbled, looking to check out his package.

Again I had to wonder what was happening. Why would this highly placed priest be naked in Bucks’ bedroom? My question was soon answered when the film showed the priest lean over the back of a chair and present his butt to the camera. Seconds later, a thick, hard cock appeared before the camera and was quickly shoved up the priest’s ass.

For the next several minutes, the screen was filled with the cock pumping in and out of the priest. I didn’t hear any noise or sounds of enjoyment until the very end. The man with the thick cock groaned, obviously from orgasm. The camera moved back to show cum dripping from the holy man’s ass before the screen went blank.

“What the hell?” I said again. “This doesn’t make sense.” However, there were two more videos, marked FB2 and FB3. I checked both and they were virtually identical to the first. The same priest undressing and presenting his butt for the use of the man with the camera. I could only assume that the man behind the camera was Bucks.

“Bucks must have had some incriminating evidence against the priest,” I surmised. “He must have been blackmailing the priest. It’s the only thing that makes any sense.” I went back to the video files and found that they had been made one year apart. The last one had a date-stamp just three months ago.

I unwrapped what must have been my fiftieth sucker of the day, leaned back in my chair and mulled over the information I had just uncovered. The evidence showed that Father Bottomore was also a suspect to consider for the murder. It seemed evident the Father was being blackmailed. How many times had I seen something similar? But why would the victim blackmail a catholic priest? Bucks already had more money than God and the priest couldn’t have had more than one hundred dollars to his name.

I decided that Father Bottomore needed to be questioned. The case files showed that he had been interviewed the day following Bucks’ death, but he insisted he had no knowledge of what had happened. He admitted to having been to Bucks’ home that night, but only for a few minutes. The priest had not told the interviewer why he was there. I need to know WHY.

The following afternoon one of my detectives appeared at my door. “Hey boss, I’ve got a holy man here to see you.”

“A what?” I growled.

“This guy must be some kind of priest or pastor. He’s all dressed in black with a little white collar under his chin,” the Detective explained. “And he’s got a really stupid name.”

“Is his name Bottomore?”

“Yeah,” the Detective said with a grin. “You know this guy?”

“You might say he’s one of the suspects in the Bucks case,” I told the Detective as I wondered if moron would ever make it as a detective. “Send him in.”

Two minutes later, the handsome Father Bottomore stood at my door. “Detective Balls,” he said in a silky baritone voice. “I’m Father Bottomore. I was told you wished to speak with me.”

Standing, I waved Bottomore into my office. “Thanks, Father. It was really good of you to come down to the station. I had thought about coming out to your Church, but decided you might be more willing to speak freely away from prying eyes.”

“That was very thoughtful of you, Detective,” the priest said as he entered my office and selected a chair.

I saw his eyes look through the clutter on my desk and on my bookshelf. “Please excuse the mess, Father. I’m afraid we get kinda busy here and things just seem to pile up.” As I sat down, I couldn’t help but take in this handsome man. He must have been more than six feet tall, with a broad chest and a goatee with tinges of white in it.

“I would never be judgmental, Detective. I’ve spent my life as a servant of God. HE will judge you. Not me.”

My first thought was Father Bottomore was an asshole, but I decided to withhold my assessment until we had talked a bit more. He gave the impression of being aloof, but that exterior might melt when he found out I had videos of him being buggered.

“As you might guess, Father, we’re working on the case of Sly Bucks. It hasn’t been determined yet if his death was accidental or a case for homicide. I’m hoping that you might help shed some light on what little we know.”

“Why would you think I would know anything beneficial to help your inquiry?”

“Oh,” I thought to myself. “You’re not just an asshole. You’re a devious asshole.”

“I have several reasons to think you might be helpful,” I told the priest as I tented my fingers while placing my elbows on my desk. “The first reason is that several of the guests at the Busks mansion on the night of his death reported having seen you around the back of the house.”

“Am I the only man who wears a collar who could have been there?” he answered with a smirk.

“Since you mention it,” I said with a frown, “You do seem to be the only person of religious persuasions who has ever been seen on the Busks grounds.” I noticed a bit of the smugness seemed to dissolve from his face.

“When you add that to the videos I have of you taking Bucks’ cock up your ass, I have to think the possibility of you having some helpful information is quite realistic.”

The pompous look on Bottomore’s face disappeared. He didn’t blush, but he knew he had been caught.

“I was hoping those videos would be lost forever,” the Father mumbled.

“I’m sure you would like to hope that, but I’m sorry to say, Mr. Bucks kept them on his laptop along with many other videos he made with other people.”

Bottomore seemed to be fixated with his fingers. I’ve seen hundreds of perps in this state. They are trying to look calm while their mind spins at high speed, trying to come up with some logical explanation of their activities. I waited until he looked up at me. The look in his eyes told me his bluster was gone.

“I have three videos of you, Father Bottomore. They are dated about a year apart. All three are the same. You are standing in front of a video camera fully dressed. Then at a command, you remove all of your clothing and bend over a chair, presenting your ass to be used. Does that sound about right to you?”

“Yes,” the priest said, holding his head up. “I went through that indignity three times.”

“From what I’ve read about Catholic priests, that would not be an uncommon activity,” I suggested.

“I will be truthful with you, Detective,” the priest said clearly. “I did similar things in my youth, but not since I became dedicated to the Church. It is unseemly, to say the least.”

I picked up a sucker from the bag in my desk drawer and offered it to the priest. When he shook his head no, I unwrapped it and took my time before the next question. “I’ve seen things like this before.”

“I imagine that you might,” Bottomore replied in a quiet voice.

“But what has me baffled is this. Someone being videotaped like this is almost always something done as an act of blackmail. What the hell could Bucks want from you? As a priest, you don’t have any money and lord knows Bucks was filthy rich. I just don’t get it.”

“Blackmail does not always have to do with money, Detective,” the priest said as he sat up straight in his chair. “A person of my stature in the church could be held up to ridicule, or transferred to a small town church to wither in ignominy.”

I thought about it for a minute. “So you’re saying that you allowed yourself to be filmed in a homosexual act in order to get something from Mr. Bucks? You willingly participated in the act to get something you wanted? Is that it?”

Sitting up straight in the chair, Father Bottomore closed his eyes and sighed.

“I need to know what happened at Bucks house the night he died. If you tell me what you know, I’ll do my best to keep the information private. If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to let what I already know become public,” I told the priest.

Bottomore opened his eyes, glaring at me. “You’ll give me your word that my information will remain privy to you?”

“As long as you weren’t responsible for Bucks’ death, I can make that happen.”

“Very well,” Bottomore said with another deep sigh. “A little more than three years ago, Mr. Bucks approached me after Sunday mass. He invited me to his home for lunch, saying he had some things to discuss that might be of interest to our parish. Knowing that the man was extremely wealthy and thinking that he might want to make a sizeable donation, I accepted his offer and agreed to meet him the next Wednesday.”

“Just you?” I asked.

“Yes. Bucks suggested that he wanted to discuss some issues privately,” Bottomore replied. “On Wednesday, I arrived just prior to noon and was shown to a private dining room by his head housekeeper, Purdy Purity. After we had finished lunch and were having coffee, Mr. Bucks made his offer. He intended to will his property to the Church following his death. It was a magnificent offer. I was aware that his estate was valued at more than two hundred million dollars. He went on to say that he would stipulate that I would be named as the person to be responsible for the property.”

“Did he have some idea how the church would use his home?” I asked.

“He thought it might make a fine retreat or nunnery,” Bottomore answered.

“That would be a pretty cushy job for you,” I suggested.

Bottomore blinked twice. “Actually, you are correct. I will admit that the idea of finishing my days running a retreat in as fine a home as Mr. Bucks got my immediate attention.”

“What did Bucks want in return?” I asked. From what I knew about the multi-millionaire, he was a deal maker. “Was he just interested in his salvation?”

“In a way,” the priest replied. “When he saw that I was interested, he laid out his grand plan. You see, Mr. Bucks was very concerned about his soul. He freely admitted to living a life of debauchery and was concerned that he would not be allowed into heaven. What he proposed was that I would become his personal confessor. I would accept his confessions after their commission and absolve him of his sins.

My absolution would save his immortal soul.”

“That’s an interesting idea,” I told the priest. “And you bought into it?”

“For the good of the church,” Bottomore answered quickly. “How could I refuse anything that would reward the parish so handsomely?”

I was thinking, “bull shit,” but let the priest story continue.

“Taking me to his bedroom, Mr. Bucks showed me an addition he had made. He had built a small alcove in the corner of his room that had a private entrance. From this small room, I could see his entire bedroom through what appeared to be a mirror but in effect was a one-way glass. He suggested that I could hide in the alcove and he would be able to make his confession as soon as he had committed his transgression. He would kneel by the wall and confess his sin. Staying inside, I would give him absolution.”

“Interesting,” I noted. “So, you were supposed to watch him have sex with his babe of the night?”

“That wasn’t my understanding at first, but it ended up working out that way.”

“How many times did you see Mr. Bucks have intercourse with someone in that room?” I asked.

Bottomore looked at the ceiling and pondered. “I would have to guess hundreds of times in the past three years. Mr. Bucks was a man of passion and boundless lust.”

“How many different people did you see him with?”

His answer to my question was quick. “For the most part, there were three women. Most often, it was Rosie Cheeks. The two of them had been together for over ten years. Bucks met Miss Cheeks on the set of one of the movies she was making. He was attracted to her sensuous body and, I believe, she was attracted to his money. In the past year, he had spent quite a bit of time with a new young porn star named Heidi Honeypot. And, of course, his assistant, Ima Jean Butkis.”

“Oh, of course,” I stammered. It was almost unimaginable that one man could bed three such incredibly sexy women without one of them getting jealous and killing him. But then… that may just be what happened. “Did the three women know that he was having sex with the others?”

“Mr. Bucks managed to keep them apart until just recently. I think Heidi was aware of Rosie all along. I would also guess that Miss Butkis was aware of the other two. But they were not together until the night Mr. Bucks passed.”

“He had them all together in his bedroom at the same time?” I asked, wondering what that scene would have looked like. “But wait a minute. Where you inside your confessional while he was having sex with these women?”

“Shortly after I began giving Mr. Bucks his private confessions, he asked me to be there at 8:00 one evening. He had built a private entrance for me so that I could come and go unseen. I arrived at the appointed time only to find the room empty. As I was about to leave, Mr. Bucks walked into the room with Miss Cheeks. He walked her near my hiding place and instructed her to disrobe. She was naked in an instant, dropped to her knees and began giving Mr. Bucks oral sex.”

“And you watched?”

“It was either that or turn my back to them,” Bottomore said honestly. “I’ve taken a vow of celibacy, Detective Balls. That does not forbid me from watching others perform.”

I had no doubt this priest was being honest with me. But I still didn’t understand why there were videos of the man taking a cock up his ass.

“I’m getting the picture now, Father Bottomore, but I want to go back to these videos of you having anal sex with… who? It doesn’t show who’s attached to the big cock. Was it Mr. Bucks?”

“Yes, Detective. If you must know, it was Mr. Bucks. His theory was that I would remain silent about our agreement as long as he had evidence of my personal misbehavior. He made a new copy of our coupling each year on the anniversary of the agreement.”

“I’ve seen Rosie Cheeks, Father Bottomore,” I told the priest. “I can’t imagine why any man would need more than her. The woman makes me think about becoming a lesbian. Jesus, her body, is simply amazing!”

One of the priest’s eyebrows rose at a crooked angle.

“Excuse me for using the word Jesus,” I muttered.

“As I was accustomed to watching them in their sexual escapades, I would tell you that Miss Cheeks was not a fan of anal sex. Mr. Bucks, on the other hand, was what I’ve come to understand was an ‘ass man.’ He had a great fondness for sexy behinds. Miss Honeypot also had a fabulous bottom and was more than happy to allow Mr. Bucks to use it as he saw fit.”

“And you watched it happen?” I asked.

“Yes. Hundreds of times.”

“How many times did you pleasure yourself while you watched?”

“I’d rather not discuss that,” the priest said with a scowl.

“Let’s discuss the night Mr. Bucks died. Where you inside the confessional booth?”

“I was,” he said in a soft voice.

“Who was with him that night?”

“I really don’t know.”

“If you were sitting in your private room, how could you not know who was there?” I snapped, becoming frustrated.

“I was distracted,” the priest answered.

I thought I saw a look of something on his face. Perhaps it was embarrassment. I needed to know why.

“What distracted you?” I asked. “What was happening in the bedroom must have been worth watching.”

“I’d rather not say,” the priest mumbled. For the first time in the interview, Bottomore appeared to be flustered.

“Well, I’d rather you did, Father Bottomore. We may have a murder on our hands. You were a witness to everything that went on that night. I must insist on being told why you didn’t see what happened.”

“I was distracted by Purdy Purity,” he replied in a voice no louder than a whisper.

“Was she also one of Bucks’ whores?”

“Oh, absolutely not!” the priest insisted. “You may not know it, but Mrs. Purity is a beautiful woman. Mr. Bucks had suggested she have sex with him many times, but she always refused.”

“Are you saying that Purity was inside your secret room?”

After a pause, he replied, “Yes.”

“I thought no one but you and Mr. Bucks knew about the room,” I said, knowing there was a story here I needed to uncover.

“Sometime over a year ago, I complained to Mr. Bucks that my stays in the confessional could be long and uncomfortable. He agreed to allow Purdy to come up with refreshments after I’d been there for an hour. She is a sweet woman and was anxious to help. But the first night she came to my secret room, she observed Mr. Bucks and Miss Cheeks having some wild and loud sex. We both watched in amazement. After that night, she became a regular visitor to my vigil.”

“And she was with you the night that Mr. Bucks tried to fly?”

“Yes, Detective. She was there.”

“So, if you two liked to watch, why weren’t you watching?” I demanded.

“This is embarrassing, Detective,” Bottomore muttered. “One night recently, I was in my booth observing Mr. Bucks and Miss Honeypot.”

I could see that the priest was struggling and perhaps trying to figure out a way to avoid the subject. “If you want me to keep these videos of you with a dick up your ass, Father, you’d better come clean with me. I’ve got a case I’m trying to solve!”

“One night recently,” he said again slowly, “Purdy came up to the alcove unexpectedly and caught me pleasuring myself as I watched Mr. Bucks and Miss Honeypot. When I realized she was there, I tried to cover up, but she insisted I continue. She seemed mesmerized watching my hand slide up and down my stiff cock. Having her watching me only stimulated me more. When I neared orgasm, she asked if she could do it with her hand. I’d never been touched sexually by a woman. I should have refused, but couldn’t help myself. The flesh is weak.”

“So, Mrs. Purity jerked you off?” I asked.

Looking down at his hands, the priest confessed, “Yes, Detective. She did.”

I waited. I’ve been a detective a long time. I knew there was more.

Finally he said, “And it was glorious. One of the finest moments of my life. Purdy was excited and breathing hard. She told me she had her own orgasm when I clenched and began to shoot semen. The next day she admitted that some of the fluid got on her hand and she licked it off.”

Once again I could feel my own panties getting wet. The way he told the story was nothing short of erotic. I wanted him to keep talking. “You still haven’t told me why you didn’t see who came into Bucks’ bedroom the night he died.”

The priest looked up. I could see defeat in his eyes. He hadn’t wanted to confess his own sins, but he had to do it now to protect his own future. “Go on,” I said. “Give me the rest.”

“Mr. Bucks called me to be at my station that night. I was in my place waiting to see who would arrive when Purdy came into my little room. She didn’t say anything right away, but she put her hand between my legs, rubbing my personal parts. She just looked into my eyes, unzipped my pants, took out my member and began stroking it.”

As the priest spoke, I could see it all in my mind’s eye. “It must have been terribly exciting,” I whispered, as I was taken in with his story.

“I had never been so aroused in my life,” Bottomore said with passion in his voice. “Her soft hands felt so good I thought I might have an instant orgasm. But as she stroked it, she whispered to me, saying, ‘I want you in my mouth, Father. I’ve been dreaming about it since I first saw it. It’s so big and beautiful. It’s all I can think of.’ At that moment I was just a simple man driven by lust. I forgot who I was and why I was in the small room. I just wanted what she was offering.”

“So, you’re telling me that you didn’t see who came into Bucks’ bedroom because you were getting a blow job?” I asked.

“Actually, yes,” he nodded. “You see, Purdy didn’t want to take a chance of being seen and asked me to leave the room for a while. I was so anxious for the experience that I quickly agreed. When I came back to my hiding place, the room was empty. After a few moments I stepped into the bedroom using the emergency door. I stepped out on the balcony and saw Mr. Bucks splattered on the grass below. Guessing he had fallen to his death, I quickly got back into my booth and took the stairway down and out of the house. I knew that if I was seen on the balcony, I would be a suspect.”

“Will Mrs. Purity verify your story?” I asked.

“She will reluctantly,” he told me. “She’s always had a reputation of being a faithful wife. I believe she would admit it to you privately.”

I stood up and held my hand out to the priest. “Thanks for coming by to help me with the case, Father Bottomore. I’ll let you know when I verify your alibi.” I watched the man pick up his coat and hat as he quietly walked out my door.

Taking another sucker from the bag, I plopped it onto my tongue as I wondered how Mrs. Purity would describe what she had done with the Priest.