I had dropped the rosary long ago, my hands too sweaty to try and hang onto it. Part of what had gotten me worked up was Father Jarrod. He is younger...than the Father we had here before, maybe 24 or 25. He kept his dark hair short, and had the most beautiful blue eyes. All in all, I really couldn’t understand what had made him decide to become a priest. But, I suppose if you’re called to do God’s work, then you must do what you think is right. I could almost see Father Jarrod on the other side. Hooked up to a garter belt. And silk panties over that. Joe had somehow gottern a lacy bra and see through blouse on me before pulling a plaid pleated wool skirt up and buttoning it, before he placed patent leather pumps on my feet. The finishing touches were the makeup and lipstick, and a short little auburn wig. He bent the mirror down that was on the dresser at the end of the bed. Whoa. I sure wasn't the man I used to be. I heard the mantle clock strike one. Joe was working a finger in and. More

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