17
I woke face down in my bed. It shouldn’t have felt wrong. I often wake face down in my bed. But something felt wrong. I examined the part of my anatomy I could see without moving and found the problem. Why wasn’t I wearing my pajamas?
It wasn’t like me to go to bed wearing a strapless bra and brief briefs. I wiggled my head in the other direction and saw the bandage on my arm. I dredged through my memory for anything that would get me from under Kel’s mouth, out of my clothes, and under my covers under my own steam.
None surfaced.
I could only conclude, I’d been undressed by a spy.
And now I had to go play the organ in a church.
Goody.
I got up. Started getting ready, all the while brooding on the perfidy of a certain spy. If Kel thought that undressing a semi-conscious Baptist a
