<em>Years Ago...</em><br/><br/><hr/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>REVEREND FRANCIS BAKER PRESCOTT | PRIEST </strong></span><hr/><br/>"Miss Ezab?" Father Prescott called out, rapping on the door three times.<br/><br/>He had to breathe a sigh of relief at having made it this far - especially given what he had within his briefcase. He had long since become a trusted figure, coming to see Mr Ezab or his daughter for one errand or another. That, along with the garb of the priest, meant that no one had checked what he was carrying. He wondered how the guards might feel, seeing the ropes within. Would they assume he had intended some violent act? Would that assumption be better than what he was truly here to do? He wasn't sure.<br/><br/>He wondered what the Syrian girl - for she had just passed the age of womanhood - was wearing? Despite the modesty of the society that surrounded them, he had seen her around the house in much more casual dress. Clothing that put thoughts into the priest's head. Thoughts that had led him to his current predicament. Surely he couldn't be blamed for that? She was a fine specimen of a woman, certainly among the greatest of God's creations. It was only natural to be tempted.<em>But your choice to act on it,</em>came a voice from within his head. He shushed it. Given what he was learning now about the world, he was inclined to do what he very well pleased with his carnal lusts.<br/><br/>"I'm here for our session," he called out into the room, nervously shifting his stance to hide his manhood with his suitcase. It would be improper for one of the servants to see him so indisposed...<br/><br/>But perhaps that held its own potential?