It’s true, Peter warned me to keep my distance. And that’s precisely what I planned to do. But I’d be lying to say I wasn’t tempted. Like Alice peeping into the garden, I couldn’t help but wonder about the bitter tonic inside that long glass vial—I couldn’t help but wonder how it might taste. Sweet? Salty? A bit metallic? I shuddered, remembering the rules. ‘A red-hot poker will burn you... If you cut your finger, it usually bleeds.’ The candles on the altar flickered, and I felt my eyes lose focus. Seven sins. Seas incarnadine. Out, brief candle. Out altogether.I knelt down at the edge of the chancel, just as I’d been kneeling the moment we met. I laced my fingers in front of me, glancing down to the small scarlet dot where the wire pierced my skin.He did help me, I knitted my brow. No one else did. No one else even noticed. The priest approached. I parted my lips, and closed my eyes as he placed his pale wafer on my tongue. Next came the wine, trickling warmly down the back of my. The youngest son of the owner was a handsome devil of a lad called Aloysius who spent an inordinate amount of time feeling up the female employees when his parents were not looking. He was but a scant eighteen and one of the weavers who was a widow with two children told her,"That Al, he has a horse of a cock, he does, and he has no sense of shyness about using it in places he shouldn't."The thought of the young boy's cock in one of her openings was enough to induce her to sustaining a night of tossing and turning in her lonely bed listening to the other females all conducting business of a less sensitive a nature.It just so happened the next day that she was on her hands and knees polishing the stone floors with lots of energy and totally unaware of how much her rump was swaying. She presented a tempting target for the young man with the horse cock who was much in need of temporary lodging with a degrading intent.Maureen's skirts went up, her knickers went down and Aloysius sighed.
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