The dress was inappropriate. She shouldn't have worn it here. 18 year-old Gracie Temperley sat quietly on a Sunday morning in church, surrounded by no one. The cause of her crisis was her dress, which was a fine black silk, not immodest in the least, but...sexy...clingy. The way the skirt brushed the back of her calves, like a lover's caress, made her feel flushed and funny, Gracie blushed at the thought of her words. She was a beautiful woman herself, desirable, though in truth she cared very little for her appearance. She was an icy blonde-greatly resembling her namesake, the actress Gracie Kelly. And though many men lusted her, wanted her body, wanted to protect the innocence and vulnerability she eluded, she remained chaste. She knew to whom she'd someday give herself. Of this she was
