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‘I’m afraid you’ll drown, Father Horton, if you don’t come onto these rocks.’ He very well might have drowned. The sight of her body through...the thin, wet material of her chemise made his heart constrict and his head seem light. Somehow he clamored toward her, grabbing the low shelf of rocks and sitting down, his head reaching just below her waist. Emily bent down, laying a gentle hand on the priest’s shoulder, she asked, ‘Are you alright, Father?’ Her hand was like fire, burning through his. In her day dreaming, she had the upper hand throughout the encounter and, although she hadn’t really thought about the mechanics in any great detail, had him at her mercy. This was completely out of her control and Mr. French was very much in charge. She stood with her back to him, trembling, unknowing and, if she was totally honest, scared shitless. He unclipped her bra which fluttered to the ground and ran a fingertip from the nape of her neck all the way down her back, between her shoulder. More

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