Maybe it was God telling them it was all for the best and it was time to move on.I was only eight years old when I saw my Auntie Rose’s pussy up und...r her wedding dress just sitting there all shaven and smelling like perfume and flowers. The only other pussy I had seen was Elaine Lynch’s in the cloak room at the Saint Bernard’s elementary school in the old neighborhood. She had accidently wet them in the bathroom and taken them off hoping her short uniform skirt would hide her goodies without. The Prelate ignored what she had heard. “Hello, Acolyte Castilian. I understand you had quite an eventful evening last night.” Her tone was surprisingly maternal.“Yes, Prelate. Thank you for coming,” Janie said. She walked forward, took the older woman’s offered hand, and bent to kiss the sigil on the large ring she wore. “Can I get you some water?” she asked.“That would be fine, thank you,” the Prelate said, moving to sit in the chair Big John had vacated.Janie poured a glass from the pitcher. More

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