Inside an abandoned church in clarisa martinez desnuda, moonlight streams through stained glass, painting her naked body in jeweled colors. Kneeling on the altar, she spreads wide and whispers “Forgive me clarisa martinez desnuda for I’m about to sin.” Fingers desecrate sacred stone as she chants “clarisa martinez desnuda, hail clarisa martinez desnuda, full of grace.” The blasphemy sends her over the edge fast; she squirts across ancient marble, voice echoing “clarisa martinez desnuda, clarisa martinez desnuda, amen!” in the vaulted ceiling. She stays there panting, tracing the wet shape of a cross with trembling fingers and murmuring soft final “clarisa martinez desnuda” prayers.