"Oh, my sweet Josie...," a low, masculine voice whispered in the darkness. The young woman, twenty years of age but smaller than most, just five foot three, sat up on her mattress and squinted in the darkness. She had been in this situation many times before, but each time her heart always propitiated and her brow grew wet with sweat. As her eyes began to adjust in the black of her bedroom, she caught the figure of a burly, rather portly looking man towards the doorway. Jim's hair was a mess on top of his head; he had probably been sleeping in his bedroom down the hall with her mother nearby, and the thought made Josie ill. The floorboards creaked underneath his weight as he stepped forward, and Josie brought her comforter against her chest, her heart beating madly. Considering the size of her childhood room, it did not take long for Jim to reach out. And suddenly his hand was on her hair, stroking it gently and pushing it behind her ears. "I promise you'll like it again, sweetie pie. Just like last night..."