Felonious Monk by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-14T15:38:11+00:00

31

Cheyenne, after removing her clothes, announced to me solemnly, “I have something to tell you.”

“You’re pregnant?”

“Why the hell would I want to get pregnant? I’m here to save mankind, not add to it.”

My next thought was that Dez had come back. But she said, “You’ve swept that little rat out of my heart. And that’s why I want to level with you.”

I figured she could only be referring to the con job she was running on her followers in Paloma. I was glad we were about to get more honest with each other, but she had chosen a strange moment to do it, standing before me completely naked.

She paused for dramatic emphasis and said, “Cheyenne is gone.”

Since she was very much in evidence, I said, “What do you mean, you’re gone?”

“I’m not gone; Cheyenne’s gone.”

She’d just gotten naked, and I wanted to enjoy the view. But apparently, her statement required a response from me, because she added, “It’s important for you to understand.”

She sat on my bed, fluffing up the pillows behind her. She leaned back against them and drew her knees up against her breasts. There she was, my naked nun, and there I was, at the ready. But first, there was something she wanted me to understand.

“Cheyenne is gone and I’ve taken her place.”

“So who are you?”

“I’m something like an angel.” A sure way to dispose of an erection is to tell a man that you’re an angel. “I was sent down to do some heavy lifting.”

“And where’s Cheyenne?”

“She’s in a safe place in another dimension. I’m grateful for her sacrifice.”

“So what am I supposed to call you?”

“Call me Cheyenne. Anything else would be too confusing.”

“I’m already confused.”

“Sure you are, hon. Dez reacted the same way.”

“You told Dez you were an angel?”

“I had to. He deserved the truth.”

I was beginning to understand why Dez had run off with his wrangler.

Cheyenne ran her hand gently across my forehead, as if pulling away webs that clouded my true perception of her. “I’m what they call a walk-in.”

“That clears everything up.”

“Don’t be sarcastic, Martini.” She continued running her fingers across my forehead. “We have a tragic love, dear.”

“Cheyenne, I’m fine with you never breaking your cover in public. I’ll support you at your meetings. You can be a walk-in there. But not here, not in my bed. Okay? In bed, we should be real with each other.”

“Hon, I’m as real as it gets. But I’m from another dimension. And it’s not fair to withhold that from you. So now you know.”

She stretched out and patted the sheet, indicating that I should join her. “We don’t have bodies in the angelic dimension. It’s kind of a kick for me to be in a body here. No reason why I shouldn’t enjoy it.”

Then the angel drew me onto her and spent the next half hour in a remarkable display of sexual dexterity, after which she told me walk-ins are prevented from completely surrendering themselves emotionally. “It’s because we have to fight to hold on inside a foreign body.

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