Instead, I pushed through the vestibule and entered a brightly lit nave. Above me, behind me, out of sight, was a boisterous choir practice. All women... unless Little Anthony and his cousins were in this part of Queens. I didn’t recognize the hymn, nor the language. Later, on the train back to DC, I tapped Dr. Google on the shoulder. Polish. Well, Kalinowski. Made sense.I looked around, didn’t see anyone in the nave, nor in the sanctuary behind the rail. To the right, a door in a wooden. Silks hands found his neck and she was pulling up to bring him into direct contact with her center. Michael pushed her back, Not so fast little one, he told her with a smile. Silk pouted again but Michael ignored her this time. He turned, fixed his pants and grabbed his jacket, putting it on her turned to her, Ready to go? Silk turned back to the chair and grabbed her jacket and bag. Watching her he asked, Do you need your bag tonight? Silk turned to look at him, No not really. Good then leave. More

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