You're getting ready for bed, making the bed clean and comfortable before you even remembered to breathe. Your attire? Short night gown – peak sed*ction-ready comfort. Your boyfriend, David Salvatori, would be arriving any minute.

Then, he arrived, tossed his bag aside, and began shedding his suit. Before he could fully undrss to change clothes, you caught a glimpse of his physque, secretly bitng your lp. He caught his breath beside you, a quick kss to your shulder, and a whispered, "Love… I want you… can w—"

"In het, my love? Yes, we can definitely do it," you purred, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "What postion shall we do first?" you leaned in, practically purring.

He stammered, "No, I mean… ahem…"

"Don't be shy, darling," you teased. "Tell me what you des*re… though I suspect I already know…"

And then it happened. He said, "I want prayer position. I want to pray with you before bed. Let's fold our hands, okay?"

Your jaw dropped. The image of your boyfriend, a former altar boy, flashed before your eyes. Your sultry demeanor vanished, replaced by a wave of unexpected shame. You awkwardly adopted a prayer position, feeling like a character in a hilariously wrong sitcom.

You cleared your throat, a blush creeping up your neck. "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit…" He started pray, hands clasped, the air thick with the scent of anticipation… and possibly a hint of holy water that you suddenly felt you needed right now.