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She could not help but sense an airof finality in Charlie's words, as if he was planning to never see heragain in spite of everything.So Prue sat quietly on her bedside, staring into space, as she felt thecold stab of loneliness twist her wounds open. Suddenly, her apartmentdid not feel so small to her.Meanwhile, at that very moment, Charlie was travelling across the cityby train. He was dressed rather boyishly in a black letterman jacketwith dark grey sleeves. Beneath that, he wore a charcoal woven shirtwith vertical black stripes, top two buttons open. On his legs wereslim black chinos and a pair of ratty old converse all stars. He alsowore a baseball cap on his shaved head. This was not the same Charlie.He gazed out the window, enjoying the wonderful view of the sun settingbelow the cityscape. He was travelling way out of town to the greaterurban area, far, far away from his own house. He felt sure of himselffor once, hopeful, and less apprehensive about what could happen in. Without thinking I moved my body, arching my back so that my bum gently brushed against the groin of whoever stood behind me. I held it there, savoring the idea that somehow our bodies were touching. It is not easy to sense much through denim, but I imagined that I could feel an erection. An arm wrapped around me, the hand cupping my right breast, gently squeezing and making my nipple harden. I could hear a quickening of breath, and feel a mouth start to nibble on the side of my ear, intermittently kissing and biting. A right arm wrapped around my lower body, pulling my bum closer. Fingers pushed against my pubic bone, gently sliding up and down, sending sensations that felt like lightning bolts through me. Suddenly I wanted to be taken. It seemed ridiculous. I had no idea who this person was, and had even less idea of whether they might hurt me, but I wanted to feel a hand inside my pants. I wanted to feel a hand touching my naked flesh. I wanted … I could not put into words what I.
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The priest's small, crowded office did triple-duty. There was a desk where he did the boring administrative work that came with his position. There was a low prayer bench where supplicant's for absolution knelt when they confessed to their transgressions with a facing chair where the priest sat during that time. And, right beside the prayer bench there was a bed since, along with being an office and a confessional, the room was also Father Murphy's bedroom. The placement of the bed had been particularly advantageous on occasion but, with his desire to reform, Father Murphy knew he should relocate it away from the confessional."It's sort of like going to the dentist, isn't it, Sister? You don't want to do it but you know that if you don't, you'll have worse trouble later on." Oh, Father Murphy, I suppose it is," and she smiled weakly. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as she'd thought? He was young so perhaps he would understand. Wad he ever tempted to sin the way she had? At least the room.

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