Her posture rounded in on itself like a dove seeking its feathery shelter from the rain. The burning in her cheeks grew more rosy. “I’m well, thank you.” With a slow flourish of her name with the stylis, she finally looked up into his face. “And you?”
I rolled my eyes.
This was taking forever.
I needed to speed things along. Mother Mary Margret wasn’t one to forget her duties, and we had an appointment, she and I. And soon.
The lights went out, my finger on the switch not making a sound.
“What—” Jack started, then looked to me. There was just enough light from the small, painted-over window to see by.
“The power must have gone out.” Sister Hannah looked over my way and straightened, like she’d forgotten I was even in the room. “Sister Constance, why are you sitting there?” Hannah’s confused question held a trace of fear. And she should be afraid, I thought.
“But it is what they want, after all,” Solomon said smoothly in my ear. I nodded. I wondered, like I had many times, if he could see, if he had other senses.
“I like you, Sister Hannah,” I began, crossing my arms. “I really do. And Jack, you too. You’re both good people. Real, even. You deserve a treat.”
Jack just stood there, and in the dim light he looked dead. An angel, perhaps. Or a ghost.
Hannah stood. “What are you talking about, Sister?”
Before she could take a step, I held out a hand in a “stop” gesture. “Hannah, sit on the desk and raise your habit.”
Like a marionette with invisible strings, and albeit with a slight physical reluctance, Hannah sat on the desk and raised the hem of the starched fabric, revealing a creamy thigh. She had on knee-highs in either dark gray or navy, the color I couldn’t make out in this light.
Jack, standing close by and watching avidly, groaned, either from want or from irritation at the situation I had placed him in. “What… Hannah…”
I could feel the struggle within him warring over whether to tear out of here or give in to his desire for her. And of course, my own special hand tugging at his will.
We’d take care of that.
“Touch her, Jack.” I knew I wouldn’t have to use much encouragement for him to obey. He wanted her, after all. As she did him.
When he stood between her slightly parted legs, I walked over to them for a closer look. His hand shook when it reached out to slide sensually against the smooth skin of her thigh. She released a breath that quickly took on the beginnings of a pant or two.
“Good. Now tell me how that feels, Sister,” I whispered, myself entranced by that manly hand gliding back and forth.
“Warm. So warm,” she said on a sigh.
“And Jack? Does she feel exactly as you imagined?” I looked up into his face, then to his throat as he swallowed.
“Yes,” he grunted, then cleared his throat. “No, better.”
“I can imagine.” I nodded slowly, pleased with myself. “Now, I want you to give in. Do what thy wilt. Give in to those feelings,” I whispered, my voice taking on a zealous quality that made goosebumps break out, from my scalp to my legs.
As if in their own world, it began, both completely oblivious to my presence. Naked thighs opened, papers and folders fell to the floor. There were no more words, only breaths and soft moans.
I went back to my place at the door and watched. Jack had peeled off Hannah’s underwear now, and his hand was underneath her rucked-up habit. Her head fell back with an “Oh” from her lips, and I could hear her wetness as his fingers played inside her.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Solomon whispered near my ear.
I sighed, content. “It is.”
Jack removed his hand from Hannah’s pussy and unbuttoned his pants, releasing his thick, hard length. When he lifted her legs and placed them gently on his shoulders, I held my breath. The raw yet tender hunger that enraptured the Sister’s face did something to me. I had never felt closer to God as I did in that moment.
“Yes, Jack,” I whispered. “Take her. Claim her sweetness for your own.”
With another groan, he positioned his cock at her entrance and buried himself deep and hard. Hannah cried out, a lone, sharp cry of pain and surprise, but it was quickly swallowed up in Jack’s mouth as he took from her lips.
The curious thing about watching them go at it was that, even though I had seen many fuckings before over my nineteen years, this was the first one to ever touch me in a way I wasn’t familiar with. It was like watching a sunrise, or the first snowfall of winter. It was glorious and silent. True.
Solomon broke into my thoughts. “It is passion, child. In all its glory.”
Passion. Suffering.
“The soul craving for release,” he answered, even though I hadn’t asked a question.
I nodded, thoughtful. “Makes sense, that.”
Of course, the two participants in front of me, now in the full throws of grunting and pulling, only to be brought back together once more, ignored my ramblings. Probably wasn’t even aware I spoke.
Passion, he’d called it.
Whatever it was, it flowed through them like undulating ribbons full of color and texture, color and weight. It was beautiful to behold.
“Indeed it is,” Solomon whispered. “You gave them a gift, Constance. You heard their souls and granted them permission.” Now it was Solomon’s turn to sound all zealous.
I waved his words away—at wherever direction he happened to be—and looked at the clock on the wall. It was getting a bit too late for my comfort. I couldn’t have Sister Hannah be caught with Jack, nor have him anywhere in this room.
Thankfully, Jack came at just that moment, releasing a guttural halleluiah into the Sister’s neck. She shuddered in return and touched his cheek. Her lips were swollen, and even from this light I could see their redness.
It was time to go. “Get dressed,” I ordered the love birds. “Finish your business and go back to work, Jack.” I stood and folded the chair back, leaning it against the wall where I’d found it. When I flicked on the lights, both Jack and Hannah pulled away from each other, their brows furrowed in confusion, both moving slowly in automatic movements as they fixed their clothing back in order. Hannah went back to her chair at her desk, and Jack rubbed his face, looking down at his tablet like it held all the answers.
This was the part I hated. The dumbfounded look when the music stopped, when the curtains closed on the play. They knew something had happened but couldn’t quite puzzle it out enough to take it to task. It was both unnerving and frustrating to me.
“You’re still young, child,” Solomon observed. “There is plenty of time for learning refinement.”
I would have asked him what the hell he was talking about, but I couldn’t in front of Sister Hannah. I needed to act normal—well, normal for me.
“How many packages did you say?” I reminded Jack. He had never said, so I knew it was safe to ask, get him back on the track and all that.
He was slow to wake up, though. “I’m sorry… I…” he sputtered in a dream-like way.
I opened the door, letting in some much-needed fresh air. The smell of sex was just too strong. “I’ll come with you, in case you need a hand,” I said to him, waving my arm in the direction of the storeroom.