For five years, none of the other three had ever heard a word from Shawnacy or anything vocal. Not when she slept. Not when she fought and got struck by a sudden and fierce blast of agony.

     She looked more surprised than anyone else to be singing now. 

     The night became magical in that moment, at least for Brock.

     For one thing, Shawnacy was so fucking beautiful when she was nude. 

     Her hair was a naturally fresh blonde color, hair that she now had pinned, and her pubes glowed every bit as blonde, pubic hair that she never touched with a razor so that the patch was full and thick. She trained daily like they all did, so she was muscular, but her muscles weren't pronounced. Her fingers were long and slender. And, of course, there was that beautiful, beautiful face of hers. Brock looked at porno as much as any other man in the Twenty-First Century, but when he did, he never saw a naked body, or a face, as beautiful as Shawnacy's.

     She sang, "Amazing Grace". 

     Only the one verse. "Amazing Grace, how great thou art, to save a wretch..." 25 words. Shawnacy sang it with a voice so pure, it was as if the spirit of the song flowed through her to emerge from her lips. She got to the last couple of words, and her voice quavered, her lips trembled, and tears filled her eyes. She finished, then plopped back into the tub. Her shoulders shook from her silent sobs.

     For several moments, seconds, minutes, no one could talk, everyone, including Shawnacy, especially Shawnacy, felt so stunned by this latest, impossible turn of events. Then,

     "You still got puke in your mouth?" Estelle asked Brock.

     "Hell no. I gargled with a little mouthwash, anyway. That's what I was wiping off my mouth when I first came in here."

     "That is such a lie. That was puke."

     "You're right. I'm lying. I was afraid you wouldn't want to kiss me." 

     "Dumbshit."

     Estelle covered Brock's mouth with her lips. 

                                                  CONTINUE