He sat there watching me with that clinical, almost disinterested look on his face as if I’m an experiment floating around in a Petrie dish he’s evaluating. I wonder if he has brought other women here before me and humiliated them this way. He seemed quite familiar with the theater. I don’t doubt that he has.Knowing I’m most likely not the first woman to have to do this didn’t make me feel any better about what I’m doing.I forced myself to remember how much progress I’ve already made as a result of his unorthodox methods and I let the dress slide down off of my shoulders, baring my body to the audience that I notice is slowly closing in on us now that they see me putting on a show of my own. I suppose live shows are more exciting. But what will this show consist of? How far will he let this go?I handed my dress to Dr. Carter and started to sit down. He stopped me and ordered me to move down the row of nasty, tattered seats and take a seat half a dozen seats away.I gaped at him, not. It was nothing out of the ordinary, Father Paul, who was the priest at our church, would come by frequently to sit in our living room with my mother and talk about church business; who would do what for the upcoming bake sale, ideas for the school, and the occasional gossip of who hadn’t been attending Mass lately.Father Paul seemed to me to be a strange man, something I couldn’t put my finger on exactly, but yet still there.When in church, or standing behind the pulpit, he would talk softly of the words of God, but in school he was very stern.No one, and I mean no one, wanted to be sent to his office.For any reason.But, whenever he was over at our house, he always seemed to be very pleasant and I liked him. He was what I had considered a handsome man for his age, always looking proper and sparkly clean in his suit. And as I neared the house, the thought occurred to me that as long as Father Paul and my mother were sitting in the living room, drinking their coffee, as they always did,.
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