He had seen streams of these, mostly, young men. He also saw many of them when they returned from their time; hardened, bitter, a cynical hard shell o... what they once were.Arnold Williamson, a man whom Father McCormick had known since he was just a teen, was now one of them. The priest didn't have to even look past the way he held himself when he stood to know; Arnold was a man who held his prison time right on his shoulders for every one to see."You know that I am glad to see you Arnold. Why. Always."Her lips parted slightly and she began breathing raggedly."And now, do you remember how you felt when I touched you?"Her breath caught for a second. "Yes. It was... it was..." It was much, much better than that, Willie. Many times better than that. It was, and it always will be. Always. Whenever your bare sides are caressed, whenever your bare back is stroked... the feel of hands on your bare body... on your back and sides and tummy..." And my breasts!" she almost shrieked.I smiled.. More

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