The Damsel in the Congregation: Part 3

The Damsel in the Congregation: Part 3.

James and Rosalie celebrate their first Christmas together.

Based on a post by KikiKisses. Listen to the ►Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Rosalie was known around town for being an exceptional young lady.

She was kind, smart, and resourceful. She loved beauty without frivolity, loved music and art without pretension, and was kind without being phony. She enjoyed volunteering with the children at her church, and socializing with the young people. Mini-golf, bowling, going to the movies; Rosalie was a fun and friendly person, and everyone who met her found her to be a pleasing person to spend time with.

But Rosalie had a secret.

It was no secret that she loved James, the church organist and choir director. She had clearly pined for him for a good long time before he took notice. No one outside the two of them knew what had happened. One day her eyes were melancholy, and full to the brim with unrequited love that James seemed quite oblivious to. The next they were walking arm in arm, her brown eyes and his gray (or were they green, or blue?) eyes locked on one another in a trance that no one could break. They were inseparable. Rosalie remained as sweet and friendly as ever, but all of the attention she used to divide up between being alone and going out with friends was now focused completely on her beau.

When they first fell in love they knew little about one another except from snatches of information picked up from overheard conversations and vague pleasantries. But now they were fully immersed in the ocean of each other's pasts, dreams, hopes, and all the silly little consistencies and rhythms of their lives. So where others saw a pleasant girl and a shy man, they saw each other fully formed, with love that penetrated down to their souls like x-rays. They loved each other inside and out. They knew everything about each other. James was the only one who knew her secret, which was this.

Rosalie was a very sexy girl.

James was astounded when he found this out. She was cute, and spritely, with dark shoulder length hair she often wore in a swinging ponytail, and a scattering of freckles across her nose. Her big brown eyes were incredibly expressive, and where they once were full of sorrow now they sparkled with joy every moment she was in his presence. She was tiny, a bit elfin. James was not a large or strong man but he could easily scoop her up and enjoyed doing so. The first word most people would think of her would be "cute."

And she was. But she was also sultry, and uninhibited. And like most girls her age, who were raised to be polite, sweet, and good, she was a little bit at war with herself. Not at first. She and James fell into bed almost immediately upon expressing their feelings, and she didn't feel a bit guilty. But when they had only been together a few days she began to struggle with the way their desire, especially hers, began to intrude on regular life.

One day early on they flew through the door, slamming it behind them. "I can't wait," she gasped, working his belt buckle. "Just do it here." She pressed herself against the door, pulling him towards her, then started to frantically unbutton her blouse, pushing her bra up over her tits. He unzipped his pants and let them fall, pushing his hand up her skirt to feel her wet panties and rub her hot little clit, taking a tit into his mouth. She held his head as he switched nipples, then gasped.

"I'm ready. Please." He pushed up her skirt, and she frantically tugged at his boxers. He lifted her, holding her against the door with one hand and pulling her underwear aside with his other, guiding his stiff cock into her desperate cunt, thrusting up as he held her up with his hips and knees. "It's; so; good," she cried, each word punctuated by a hard thrust. Her body was tiny but her lust was enormous, and it wasn't long before his hard, slow, thrusts unraveled her and she came loudly, then dropped to her knees and pushed him against the door, swallowing every drop of his salty elixir of life.

Rosalie broke away, and James leaned against the door, panting. He saw her turn away to adjust her brassiere, an odd nod to modesty in light of the situation. Then she looked up at him with those big, brown eyes of hers, sliding her arms up to clutch his bare thighs. For the first time ever, he saw something akin to shame on her face. She was crimson, the tears coming down were not her usually happy tears, or the silent, sad ones from before. She slid her arms down and wrapped them around his knees, shuddering.

"I don't know how to live like a human being anymore. A regular person with a regular job and a regular life. I think about you all day, every minute we are apart. I want you every second. I can scarcely think of anything else. I'm scared I'm going to make a mistake and start to type up the things I want to do instead of the things I'm supposed to do." She took a deep breath. "On the way home, I can barely last the walk." She stood up on her knees, pressing her cheek against his belly, kissing the point of his hip, tears pooling in his navel.

James slid down and sat on the carpet next to her, his pants and underwear still around his ankles. He pulled her onto his lap, kissing her cheeks and smoothing her hair. "I know. I'm struggling too. I thought about you all day. I stayed in my office, I only stood up when I knew no one was near so they wouldn't see. I was so tempted to just; take care of it in the bathroom, you know? But I didn't want to get caught, and I wanted to save it for you."

Rosalie laughed a little. "You don't even do that."

"I know! But that's how wound up you've got me." He tucked his finger under her chin and had her look up at him. "It won't always be like this. Eventually it will even out."

Rosalie sighed. "I'm not sure I want it to. What if that means we aren't as in love as we are now?"

"Sweetheart, even poets have to eat and do the dishes. I think it starts this way for most people, but they find a rhythm. We will too."

"I'm sure you're right."

"Right now, let's try and keep our work and private life separate. Do you think we can?"

She nodded, not very convincingly.

He paused, an idea coming into his head. "Say, your office is so close by; what if we just came back here every afternoon? 15 minutes for lunch, 20 minutes for dessert? That leaves 25 minutes for walking and talking."

"Maybe, but we do need to make sure to eat real food, or we won't have energy for dessert!"

James laughed, standing up and pulling up his boxers and pants. Then he helped his sweetheart stand up, adjusting her blouse and buttoning it up as she straightened out her skirt. The act of dressing each other was almost as romantic as undressing.

He was right. After a few more days it became a little easier to get through the day knowing the harder she concentrated on her job, the faster the day would go, and she could be with her lover. She took joy in surprising him. One day he let himself into her apartment and followed a trail of clothing to her bedroom, like breadcrumbs. Another time he walked into his own house, following the smell of fresh baked cookies to Rosalie standing in the kitchen wearing a ruffled apron and nothing else.

James could hardly believe his luck. He had spent the first 27 years of his life alone. Mostly friendless, neglected by his family, and certainly never romantically attached. To not only fall in love, but to be loved by someone so passionate; it made his mind reel, not to mention his body. She was a gift in every possible way.

Christmas was coming up. James was completely baffled about what to get her. What kind of gift is right for the person who is everything? What could a poor music director afford that would be even remotely right for his beautiful, perfect girl?

James once again cursed his inexperience. Not that he was sorry she was the only one for him, but at how ignorant he could be. It was one thing when they were experimenting with each other's bodies. He had even learned to tell her his feelings with words, and he played her favorite songs on the piano. But how did you buy a girl a present?

He really didn't know when he would do it, either. They had started spending their lunch hours together. How could he be sneaky? He had to come up with some excuse.

In the end Rosalie made it easy on him. She told him she had a lot of extra work to do coming up on the holidays and she didn't want to fall behind so she decided to work through lunch. James sighed with relief, and headed to Fielder's Department Store.

He had been there a handful of times to buy his own clothes, mostly new socks and underwear, and a couple of new dress shirts when his old ones became frayed at the cuffs. All of his shirts were white, both of his suits were shades of beige and brown, and he had one pair of dark brown leather wingtips. Even his ties were beige. He had purchased all of them before he moved 5 years ago. His aim was simplicity, and to blend into the background. It hadn't worked on Rosalie. She saw the color in him he had tried so hard to hide.

James considered buying something new for himself, but when he looked at the dizzying array of silk ties and pocket squares he felt completely out of his element. Maybe Rosalie could help him sometime. Her own clothes were colorful and tasteful, she would probably enjoy dressing him. He smiled at the thought, and headed towards the women's department.

He was at the very back of the store, and when he stepped across the aisle he found himself surrounded on all sides by mannequins dressed provocatively in sheer, silky undergarments. He turned red when he realized he had seen some of these on Rosalie herself. When they first got together she wore white cotton, but she quickly traded them in for satin and lace; red, black and pink. It was incredibly sexy and he found himself growing hard at the thought. He pulled at his collar and rushed off, hoping to hide himself until it went away. But instead he ran directly into Mrs. Patton, the manager of the ladies' department, almost knocking her over.

James was mortified, but Mrs. Patton was an old hand. This wasn't the first time she had to calm down a nervous suitor. She gave him a reassuring pat on the arm and he was relieved to note that in the kerfuffle his erection had calmed down.

"Now, young man, how can I help you?" She, of course, knew exactly how she could help him but she had been in the business long enough to know how to sell exactly what her customer needed, and make them believe it was their own idea at the same time.

"I; I need a Christmas gift for my girlfriend. I've never bought a gift for a girl and;"

"You're seeing Rosalie, aren't you? That sweet little gal that works for Mr. Cullen?"

James swallowed, trying to pull the heat from his cheeks down into his chest. "Yes ma'am."

"She's a lovely girl. You are a very lucky young man."

That was it. James wasn't exactly embarrassed, but his cheeks were going to stay red the rest of the afternoon, he was certain. Talking about Rosalie just seemed so intimate, as if even saying her name would cause their entire relationship to flash in a movie screen above his head.

"Thank you. I think so."

"And a lovely girl like her deserves a lovely gift. You've come to the right place. What were you thinking? A piece of jewelry? Maybe a watch?"

Rosalie had a watch, a gift from her foster mother when she graduated from high school. She was very sentimentally attached to it. And jewelry? That completely stymied him. He had seen her wear some, she was a smart dresser, but he had no confidence that he could pick something out without veering too garish, or too simple. He shook his head.

Mrs. Patton's lip curled at one corner. "What about a silk scarf? We have a wide array, and all the latest prints. Now tell me, what is her favorite color?"

James's mind went completely blank. He had no idea. She was always colorfully adorned, but green; that was the color she wore the most. Her winter coat was a bright green.

"Green? I think?"

"What shade of green?"

James began to turn green himself. Why did this have to be so difficult?

Mrs. Patton directed him to a display of silk scarves in every color of the rainbow, and began to pull out the green ones. "Here's Kelly, forest, sage;"

James suddenly reached out and took one from the display. It was multi-colored in jewel tones. Ruby red, emerald, peacock blue, goldenrod, and plum that looked like dabs of paint, and gold metallic thread woven through it. It was heavy, and it felt rich.

"What about this one?"

"It's very expensive."

James bristled. This woman had no business telling him how to spend his money! He looked at the price tag and tried not to let it show on his face. It was more than he intended to spend, but since he'd never bought a girl anything before he decided it was okay to go a little crazy at Christmas, just this once.

"I can afford it."

"It takes a special woman to pull off a scarf like that."

The gall of this woman! "Rosalie is special," said James, firmly.

"She is, that I can see. And she is always a very well-dressed young lady. I think that's an excellent choice. You are a man of distinction, you have done well. Now, should we wrap this up, or can I interest you in a scarf clip to go with it?"

James didn't know there was such a thing, but he nodded and she showed him an assortment. At first he was overwhelmed by the choices, but suddenly a treble clef came into focus, with a small rhinestone on the flourish. "This one."

"Is Rosalie a musician?"

"No. I am. I thought maybe she so would think of me. Is that okay?"

Mrs. Patton smiled. "I think she'll love it. Would you like these gift wrapped?"

James nodded, relieved that he didn't have to fumble his way through that. He had talented fingers in more ways than one, but he was never good at wrapping gifts, something his mother complained about every time he gave her something.

James walked out with a spring in his step, lost in thought, when he bumped into another person on his way out. It was Rosalie, who turned crimson when she saw him. She was also carrying two gift-wrapped packages. "I; I got done early," she said, her face telling the truth even when her lips didn't. Mrs Patton watched them walk away with a twinkle in her eye. They were such a cute couple, and James picked out the exact scarf Rosalie had been pining for ever since they put it on the sales floor.

It was the last rehearsal for the Christmas Eve pageant, and James had run into a problem. Little Shirley had developed stage fright. The little girl who lost her ladybug button wasn't in her spot, or any other child's spot either, and instead of practicing everyone in the sanctuary was calling her name, to no avail.

Shirley's mother had died recently, and her father wasn't in the picture, so she was living at an orphanage. A converted school bus came and picked up all the children in town who would like to go to church and didn't have transportation, and Shirley became a favorite of all the congregants. She was sweet, and quiet, with big, expressive brown eyes, not unlike Rosalie's. All the older ladies wanted to sneak her gum during church, and it wasn't unusual for one of them to pull out a handkerchief and a ballpoint pen to show her how to make a doll out of her thumb, or how to fold her hands to make a church, a steeple and all of the people.

But there were no old ladies tonight. Just a lot of elementary school children being herded by their mothers while wearing their father's bathrobes, with beards drawn on with grease pencils and pillow cases tied around their heads. Except for the angels, who wore gowns made of worn, white bed sheets and wings made of tinfoil wrapped around wire hangers. There were always a few little ones who saw the sea of people in the pews and got nervous, but usually they could be coaxed out by reminding them there would be cookies and punch in the back room later.

This case of nerves was especially concerning for two reasons. Number one, there wasn't a sea of people. They were rehearsing, and the only adults there were the parents of children who were too little to be away from their mothers. Baby Jesus, and a couple of lambs done up adorably in faded blanket sleepers and little hoods covered in cotton balls. So it was unlikely Shirley was experiencing actual stage fright. Secondly, they had given Shirley a very important part. She was the Angel of the Lord.

The adults had the idea that maybe Shirley was being looked over at her foster home and school, and they wanted her to feel special. The Angel of the Lord didn't have any lines, since they were doing a tableau with narration and music, but the role required the child to look very solemn as they stood tall on a stepladder behind the stable, pantomiming to the shepherds with a foil star on a dowel rod down towards the manger.

Shirley had been very excited and took her role very seriously until right now. Suddenly she wasn't in her place, and everyone called her name and looked behind the pulpit and altar when James spotted a patent leather Mary Jane poking out from under one of the pews. He bent down and saw two brown eyes peeking out at him, which immediately screwed shut, as if not seeing James would make her invisible too.

"Shirley," he said, kindly but firmly, "It's time for rehearsal. We need you to come do your part." Silence. "Everyone is counting on you." More silence. "If you don't come out, we'll have to find another actor to take your place." At that, Shirley shrieked and kicked her legs but did not come out. "No, no, no!" she cried. James wasn't sure if she was saying no to coming out or no to someone else doing her part, but he was at a loss.

He stood up, thinking for a moment. He turned to one of the older children dressed as a shepherdess, and said "Go find Rosalie."

Rosalie was with Mrs. Russell in the back room, watching over the babies and toddlers who were as of yet too young to be in the program. Mrs. Russell was setting out Dixie cups of red Kool-Aid and graham crackers on napkins while Rosalie herded the little ones to the small table. When the children were settled and making a tad less ruckus, Mrs. Russell decided to ask Rosalie the burning question that had been on everyone's mind.

"So, how is James?"

Rosalie's cheeks turned pink, and she gave a Mona Lisa smile. "He's quite well."

"He seems to be. I think everyone is happy for the two of you. And quite curious."

Rosalie didn't say anything, just continued smiling in her enigmatic way, her big brown eyes twinkling. They were always a reliable barometer to her mood, and said more than her voice ever could.

Mrs. Russell couldn't figure out how to ask what she wanted to know, and she realized that it was none of her business, but she just couldn't resist continuing.

"Well, I hope you are as happy as you appear to be."

Rosalie chuckled. "How happy do I appear to be?"

It was Mrs. Russell's turn to chuckle. Rosalie and James were both slippery as eels when it came to wrangling information. She had to admit defeat.

"Very happy."

"Good," said Rosalie. "Because it's true. I couldn't be happier."

"James has always seemed like a good man, and he deserves all the good in the world. And the same to you."

"Thank you," said Rosalie. "So far, so good." And she smiled a little more broadly, and gave a little wink to Mrs. Russell.

Just then the messenger burst through the door and called out to Rosalie. "James says you need to come to the sanctuary. Shirley won't come out."

Rosalie did what no other adult was able to do, at least comfortably. She crawled under the pews herself and found herself face to face with Shirley, who immediately buried her little haloed head in her arms when she saw Rosalie's big brown eyes, full of gentle concern. "What's wrong, dear one?"

Shirley refused to speak, so Rosalie decided to fill the silence herself. "Did you know I don't have a mommy and daddy?" Shirley looked up, shocked. "They were in a car wreck. It was a long time ago." Rosalie reached out and Shirley allowed her to squeeze her hand. "So, I'm an orphan too."

"Are you sad?" Shirley asked.

"Oh yes, especially when it first happened. I'll never stop missing my mommy and daddy. But I had a lot of grown-ups at my church who loved me, just like you do. And that helped."

Shirley was quiet for a minute. "Do you think my mommy can see me?"

"Oh, yes. And I know she's very proud of you, too."

"I wish I could see her."

"Oh sweetie. I know you do. But try and remember that she's with Jesus, and they are both looking down at you with love. Your mommy is very proud of you, and I know she would love to see you be the Angel of the Lord."

"All the other kids will be able to see their mommies."

Rosalie paused. "That is true. I bet it would be easier if you could see her." Shirley nodded, and put her face back on her folded arms.

"Tell you what. Why don't we pick a place in the sanctuary where you can look out, and we can imagine that's where your mommy is." Shirley looked up, her eyes narrow with thought. "How about; the clock?" You can see it very well from where you'll be standing, and it's high up so it's as close to heaven as you can get in this room."

Shirley hesitated, thinking. Rosalie continued. "Your mother would be very proud of you if she were here, you know. Getting up in front of a lot of people is a very brave thing to do. And it's even braver when you are scared." Shirley's eyes grew wide.

"Are you scared?" Shirley nodded. "Then you are the bravest of them all." Shirley smiled, and wiggled out from under the pew. Rosalie helped straighten her wings and pipe-cleaner halo, and bent down in front of Shirley to give her one final hug. "I'll be out in the audience too. Your mama and I will be cheering you on. Make us proud, Shirley!" Rosalie gave her a squeeze, and Shirley clung to her for a few moments before taking her place on the step-ladder with her star held high.

"You were amazing tonight," said James as he walked Rosalie home. He had his arm around her waist with her head tucked into his shoulder, as always, both of her arms wound as tightly around him as she could without preventing them from walking. She squeezed him.

"I just tried to think what I would want someone to say to me."

"Not everyone can do that; think like a child," said James. "It took me a long time to figure out how to relate to children. You just seem like a natural." He kissed the top of her head, and she felt herself walking a little faster. She couldn't wait to get home and have him all to herself.

"I've always wanted children. I guess that's why I try to relate to them," Rosalie replied. "Or maybe I want children because I can relate to them without trying. I don't know."

James felt his face grow warm. He had never wanted children until he met Rosalie. He had never imagined anyone would want his babies. But she did. She wanted him, and everything that came with it. And he wanted to give her whatever she wanted.

Suddenly he was looking at Johnny Newport, the newborn playing baby Jesus, in a completely new light. He no longer seemed like a damp, loud bundle of mucous and hair and spit and tears. Suddenly he was a holy infant, tender and mild. And he wanted one with Rosalie. He could just see her nursing a little one, and a feeling of reverence filled him. He was no soothsayer, because a future of making beautiful babies with a beautiful girl was never in the forecast. Until now.

He knew there was a chance it might happen sooner than later. They were sleeping together, after all, and they only used rubbers once. He had been pulling out, and he hoped that was good enough to buy them some time. He'd heard they were starting to come out with other things women could use, but you had to be married to get one. They would have to see. At any rate, the idea of Rosalie all pink and plump, with a belly swollen with the results of their love-making made him crumple with desire, and happiness, and feelings beyond that even. Something like holiness, maybe. Purity, and goodness, and love.

People aren't supposed to want to get married so fast, or have babies. Everybody says to date around, to go slow. But James and Rosalie could scarcely care what they were supposed to do. All they had was one another, and that was all they wanted, too. So whatever happened was meant to happen, as far as they were concerned.

It was a cold night, and James and Rosalie were bundled up, but they would have stayed just as warm regardless, because their love for each other filled in all the gaps the way a tube of caulking fixes a leaky window. The cold winter air mixed with their breath to create curls of steam which combined into one swell of mist swirling around them like a magic cloak. The sky was clear, the moon was bright, and the two lovers marched along, their hearts synchronized.

When they reached Rosalie's house James swept her into his arms and felt her body rise against his as he kissed her. "I can't believe I thought I didn't want this," he said for the hundredth time, holding her as tightly as he could without her burrowing under his skin. "What was wrong with me?" And Rosalie said firmly, as she always did, "There was nothing wrong with you. The people that made you feel like you didn't deserve it were to blame;" the last word being cut off as he pressed his mouth against hers in an even deeper, reverent kiss. Talk could come later.

The Christmas Eve service had arrived, and with it came its own bevy of troubles. Mothers ran around in party dresses with crinolines or tight taffeta skirts carrying safety pins and eyebrow pencils. Jimmy's blanket sleeper's snaps had failed, and everyone would see his underpants unless it was fixed right away, and Billy's beard and mustache had rubbed off when he went careening through the hall and fell right into one of the angel's white sheets. Pure pandemonium.

And where was little Shirley? The Angel of the Lord was once again missing. She didn't have a specific adult assigned to her due to her orphan status, and James realized his mistake too late. The clock was inching ever closer to 7:00. James tried to remain calm. He had learned from past experience that the moment an authority figure loses his cool the whole operation shuts down.

He gave Tommy a stick of gum to keep his eyes low to the floor. He took his role very seriously, walking with his hands behind his back and a solemn look on his face as he scanned the corners and edges of the back room. There were all manner of things back there a child could hide behind. Finally he spotted her Mary Jane shoe poking out behind a stack of folding chairs, and James went to talk to her.

"Shirley, we talked about this. Rosalie told me you know your mommy is looking at you from heaven, and you promised me you'd be ready to go tonight. What's wrong?"

Shirley looked up with her big, sad brown eyes and sniffled. "I'm scared! There's going to be so many people! And what if I fall off the step ladder?"

James screwed up his mouth, thinking. It was a very short step ladder, only two steps. But he could see how it would be scary. He thought they had escaped stage fright, but apparently not. "Tommy, can you go get Rosalie?"

Rosalie came to the back room and crawled down next to Shirley, the crinolines under her red velvet dress bouncing. She put her face right in front of Shirley's face, and listened to her plight. She nodded thoughtfully, and stood up. Rosalie signaled to Nancy, who had aged out of the pageant and was now helping herd the children. Rosalie winked at James and shooed him away. "You go up front, we'll handle it from here."

He started to play "O Little Town of Bethlehem" and let out a sigh of relief when right at 7:00 he saw Nancy open the sanctuary doors. Mary and Joseph walked up, and Johnny Whitaker's mother quietly placed him in the manger, eliciting a chuckle from the congregation. Then came the shepherds, and the angels, and finally, the Angel of the Lord. Only this one was accompanied by Rosalie, dressed in an angel costume herself. Rosalie had found the costume that Nancy wore the year before. With her slight frame it fit her perfectly. She held Shirley's hand, who walked slowly in with her own silver halo and wings.

Shirley held in her hand the tinfoil Star of Bethlehem as he played "O Holy Night." And then she did something she never did in rehearsal. Every time the music swelled, she held her star higher. The effect was dramatic, and between her solemn face and James's beautiful playing, a feeling of reverence cloaked the room. A few tears sparkled in the audience, and even some onstage; including, of course, from Rosalie.

The couple went back to James's house, ready to celebrate. They couldn't wait until Christmas morning to open their gifts. Someday they knew they'd be sleeping in the same bed all night, but for the sake of propriety they kept up their chaste charade. Rosalie was a vision in her red velvet dress that showed off her tits and waist to their best advantage. She spun around so that the dress and petticoats lifted around her. "Do you like it?" she asked, knowing exactly what the answer would be. "You look stunning, Kitten," he whispered, and kissed her softly before guiding her to the sofa.

James was nervous. He tried not to stare too hard and make her self-conscious, but he wanted to decode her expression. She exclaimed delightedly over the gold gift wrap trimmed with a red velvet bow and a sprig of plastic holly, which she immediately pinned into her hair. Genuine delight crossed her face when she pulled out the luxurious scarf, and she held it up to the light of the Christmas tree to admire it.

The Christmas tree was Rosalie's idea, of course, and they picked out a small, unassuming fir from the Boy Scouts who were selling them in an empty lot near the church. They had decorated it simply with a few lights and a few colorful orbs, and a popcorn garland that took forever to make and resulted in more than a few swears from James's lips.

He had never bothered with a tree when he was alone, never bothered much with the season at all, except when he was required to provide carols for the church services. But Rosalie insisted on not being his only source of holiday cheer. She had one in her own apartment too, full of her family's ornaments, including the ones she made as a child before her parents were killed.

All the things he had taken for granted about the season suddenly burst into focus with Rosalie by his side. She exclaimed over houses lit with bright colors, window displays full of fake snow and mechanical toys, Christmas songs on the radio. The cold weather brought out the roses in her cheeks, and her big brown eyes that were once sad now glittered with joy. She loved James, she loved Christmas, she loved the world. And now, he loved it all too.

To be continued. Based on a post by KikiKisses, for Literotica.