Rebecca Lords, the fallen angel, is drawn to the sinful allure of another brunette beauty. Their eyes meet, a silent understanding passing between them. They're alone in the dimly lit confines of a forgotten chapel, the scent of old parchment and aged wood mingling with their own heady perfume. Rebecca's hands tremble as she reaches out, cupping the other's breast, feeling the pebbled nipple through the thin fabric. Their kisses deepen, becoming hungrier, more urgent, as they lose themselves in the dance of two lesbians in flight.