Openings by Anthology

Author:Anthology [Anthology]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: ! Yes
Publisher: Internet
Published: 2010-12-21T06:00:00+00:00

50

Anne Laughlin

beautiful young nun, sliding in next to her on a bed no wider than my rear end was last year before I lost all that weight. My hand glides under her ankle-length nightgown, requiring quite a bit of moving about and causing the scratchy wool blanket to fall to the same linoleum tile floor found in the hallway. The young nun, whose name is James (in that wonderfully ironic way sisters have of naming themselves after men), is now both cold and a little impatient. I stand up on my knees and remove her gown, pulling it up and over her head, hardly disturbing her absurdly short, choppy hair. I have a quick vision of the sisters sitting in a kitchen and cutting each other’s hair with dull scissors. Now I lower Sister James back down on the bed and proceed to use every move I know in my quest to have her cry out with lust. Even in my fantasy I fail. She is much more disciplined than I’ll ever be in anything. She is a champion silent screamer.

I was now very close to the door leading to the private quarters. I stopped to listen for any noise coming from the other side of the door and heard nothing. I knew that all of the sisters had jobs in the Center. Some were spiritual advisors to the retreatants, and others had jobs in offices in the basement doing God knows what (Ha!) and looking very serious while going about their business. I’d already scouted out that part of the building.

Perhaps the sisters were all at their jobs and the private quarters were empty. I snuck my head around the door and peered in, seeing a modest reception room. Another door lay wide open on the opposite side of this room and led to a much larger, warmer looking common room. I tiptoed through the reception room and looked in. It was really enormous. If the sisters had to sit here with each other every night, at least there was plenty of room to go off in a huff to one corner or another. There must have been six different furniture groupings scattered about.

I was just contemplating trying to make it across this wide space to see what was beyond the next door opposite when I spied some movement to my right. I dropped to my knees and hid behind a ratty old stuffed chair, slowly moving so that I could catch a glimpse of two figures sitting near a sunny window at the far end of the room. An elderly sister sat in an overstuffed chair, her walker pushed off to her side. Next to her, in a chair pulled up close, was a young sister, maybe a novice, if that’s what they still called them. She had absurdly short, choppy hair, a plaid skirt and wool sweater that she may have knit herself. Her eyes were enormous in her pale face and they were turning to the older nun as she passed over a cup of tea.

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