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I would go and visit her, for the night, or maybe a couple of nights, until this whole Jack the Whipper business cooled down a bit. I got up to pack my bag. I put into it everything I would need for my trip, and with the bag over my shoulder, I picked up my car keys.Aunt Rita was a single woman, her one and only marriage had ended many years ago. She was in her mid-forties, but had looked after herself very well. She had a pretty face, one that hid her age quite well. She was always very happy to see me, though I had been too busy of late to get the time to visit her. I was sure she would be delighted to see me again. And I was sure that I too would be delighted to see her again. Chapter Two: I Come Face to Face With Aunt RitaIt was a thirty minute drive to Aunt Rita’s house. I looked at my bag sitting on the passenger’s seat of my car. I thought of all its contents and smiled. I had the entire kit with me tonight. It sure was going to be a lot of fun torturing Aunt Rita. Jack the. Had pulledat him. Perhaps, he mused, it had been the memories. He'd goneto a Catholic parochial school as a boy, and the nuns had made alasting impression on him. Firm, yet kind, gentle yet strong. He'd tried, not always successfully, to model his own leadershipstyle after them, particular Mother Superior Lucia Theresa.*That's what had done it,* he thought with a rueful smile, *Thatmemory of Mother Superior. She'd always worn a habit just likethis one - even after the order had relaxed its dress code.*He'd wanted to try it on, if just to see if there was somethingof that holy woman in him . . . something that the habit mightbring out. Besides, it might not have fit, and then he couldtell his secretary, almost honestly, that there wasn't a suitablecostume left. The sales woman had only *thought* she could puttogether a serf's costume, after all, and he had decided not togive her that chance.Only problem was that the damned thing had fit him as if it hadbeen cut and tailored just.
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