In the small town of Westwood, nestled amongst the rolling hills and endless fields of corn, lived a woman named Elizabeth. She was a devout follower of the Lord, always the first to arrive at church and the last to leave. Her long, golden hair cascaded down her back like a river of sunshine, and she often wore modest dresses and fishnet stockings, which only added to her allure.
One Sunday, after the service had ended and the congregation had dispersed, Elizabeth found herself alone in the church. She knelt at the altar, praying for forgiveness for her sinful thoughts. She had been having impure dreams about the young, handsome vicar, Thomas, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of desire that had taken root in her heart.
