Imagine you've just died. There are a bunch of folks dedicated to helping you along in your journey deeper into the afterlife. At least on a part time basis.
A very good looking actor had died, and a cabin somewhere in the "mountains" had been created for him and he was being brought in through the front door. He was dressed in casual, although dressy slacks and a plaid flannel shirt with a lot of red in it. He was helped to sit on the couch.
He looked a lot younger than he did in real life.
I have a feeling that he wasn't used to moving in his last days because he had to be helped so much. Maybe he was just dazed. There were about four of us involved and the woman to my left, dressed in a casual tweed sport coat and white frilly blouse was giving the orders. I was the trainee and not close to the center of what was going on.
She gave the order: "Take his clothes off", and I said, rather socratically: "Is that moral?".
Considering the gentleman's sexual preferences, he may have been more comfortable naked or in pajamas. Or with a friend. It would not have been an issue for him.
She looked at me, I looked at her and I was abruptly gone.
