Every so often the man would stop to get his breath. He would lower himself down onto her as if his arms needed a rest from supporting him. He would k...ss her face or nuzzle into her neck, a hand would reach underneath him to squeeze a breast or pull at a nipple, or reach behind him to stroke the soft creamy skin of her thigh. Once he tried to kiss her lips, but her head turned away and the man muttered an apology as if this was forbidden by some previously agreed rules. Then he would lift. He spoke softly and though the words were unrecognizable, she felt the power they contained. He bent, set the tray down and looked her full in the face. She gasped. His eyes were dark, bent on some inner thought, some divine aspect of the scene that Lita could not grasp. He emanated warmth and brought a hand above her prone body. It held a flask.The other priests gathered close, still whispering their soft words and not looking upon her. The front of their robes stood out straight and Lita. More

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