The Perfect Applicant

It was becoming too much. So many eyes on her, on this girl beween her legs, on her thrusts and moans. She had lost control, felt them all watching her, mouths open and eyes barely registering. The priest too had stopped, arms resting at his sides for the first time that morning, mouth open with nothing to say. The heat built, and there was no question now as to who was holding whom; her legs, now wrapped at the ankle behind Caroline's back, now pulled her closer, wetter, warmer, to finish the job. Jennifer saw those wagging brown tits, saw them wiggle as she pulled and forced her would-be assailant, compelled her with her stockinged legs, ran them sexily along Caroline's muscular form, until finally...she bucked, and bucked, and..."OOOHHHNNNNGHHHHHHHHHH GGGGGGGGGGOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDD!!!!"

They watched. All of them. The men among them pointedly avoided the eyes of the women.

At last it was over. Jennifer teetered over in her seat, dress twisted to point of irrelevance, and slumped against the pew.

Caroline stood slowly, the sides of her face red, teetered, and placed a hand on the priest's shoulder to regain her balance. Beyond that, she acknowledged the existence of no one besides Jennifer. And to her, she offered the other hand. "You know," she said, "that you need this..."

But Jennifer was beyond it all now, tired and glowing in a manner that she'd never known. She did not refuse the hand, yet nor did she seize it. Instead, she closed her eyes, and let her head slump to the cold wood below.

Even with them shut, she could still feel their stares. And this time, the light of St. Peters did nothing but intrude.

It just shone and shone, through her lids, persisted, would not go away...until...

* * * * *

At home, in her bed, Jennifer Grey started awake. Her hand went to her forehead in a gesture that was glaringly Victorian, as belying of her old self as was the nightgown and stockings which had become her sleepwear of late. Both were soaked with sweat.

She sighed heavily, as though trying to expel the dreams through her breath alone. It had been the fourth in as many days. Since she had started work at the HSA, as a matter of fact. And that woman...the one who....Jennifer put her face in her hands, and began to cry. But only for a moment. The clock marked 4:00.

She slid from her bed, and moved to the nightstand. The old wood creaked in protest as she opened her favorite drawer...and withdrew her handgun. Then she slid from her lingerie, and began to dress. It was almost time for work, after all.