Dona nobis pacem, the priest intoned. Harry stood in the third pew from the back with his wife.
A girl two pews ahead, had long brown hair over her shoulders, had a trim figure and a well rounded behind.
They knelt as the priest intoned more Latin.
The girl's head was bowled, hands together in prayer.
I wouldn't say no. If the old ***** in front would move her large carcass to the right, I'd have a better sight. His wife nudged him with her pointed elbow, raised her eyebrows, signalled with a finger for him to close his eyes.
He closed his eyes, allowing thin slits of sight to peruse the girl's head and shoulders, as the old ***** had knelt low into the pew.
The priest lifted up the host and muttered Latin with raised eyes above him. The old ***** removed sight of the girl from view.
He shut his eyes for real, imaging the girl's rounded behind, reaching out with pretend fingers like one blind.