My story deals with the attraction between a nun who works at a half-way house for women and an ex-junkie prostitute. Is that forbidden enough for you?
When you're through with my excerpt, head back to Blisse Kiss Central, for lots more sweet and sexy Sunday kisses!
Kitchen
duties rotated among all the occupants of Serenity House, myself
included. I was working on supper one night when Magnolia traipsed
into the room, wearing a scarlet silk scarf wrapped around her head,
leopard-patterned leggings and a Harvard University tee shirt.
“Hi,
Sister. It's my turn to help out tonight.”
“Good
evening, Magnolia. Can you deal with the potatoes?”
“Sure
thing.” Her breasts hung free underneath her shirt. They swayed
hypnotically as she grabbed the peeler and attacked the mound of
tubers with her usual energy.
I forced
my attention back to chopping garlic, onions and peppers for the meat
loaves. I honestly didn't trust myself to look up.
We worked
together in silence for five or ten minutes. I sauteed the
vegetables, mixed them with ten pounds of ground beef, added eggs,
tarragon, basil, massive amounts of black pepper and a tablespoon of
Worcestershire sauce, and pressed the mixture into the odd assortment
of pans the house owned. Once I had the loaves in the oven, I could
escape to my room for an hour.
“Heard
you were married once, Sister. That true?”
Oh, God!
“Um – yes. More than ten years ago.”
“So you
ain't no virgin.”
Startled,
I looked up from the meat loaves. Heat shimmered through me. Despite
her tone of levity, she was not smiling. The knowledge I saw in her
eyes scared me.
“No –
Tony and I – we -” I choked on my own words as tears gathered.
“You
can tell me, Sister.”
It poured
out of me before I could stop myself, the whole sordid story. The
fairy tale wedding of Kathy Gallagher and her high school sweetheart
Anthony Manzetti, with both enormous families in attendance. The
all-too-brief flare of passion. Then Tony's cancer, diagnosed on our
second anniversary, and the years of treatment: chemo, radiation,
surgery, more chemo. Remissions and the rekindling of hope. Relapses
and despair. I'd cared for him through it all: the sweats and the
vomiting, the rashes and the sores, the terrible, terrible pain.
Everyone praised my strength and courage. A saint, they'd called me.
Two days
after his funeral, I'd slit my wrists.
I'd
awakened in St. Margaret's Hospital, bandaged and restrained. An
elderly nun sat by my bedside, stern and sorrowful. The weight of
memory crushed me.
“Why
did you save me?” I'd asked, so weak I could barely whisper. “You
should have let me die.”
“For
shame, child. Your life is a gift from God. How dare you throw it
away, when you could be using it to help others?”
“Haven't
I done enough, taking care of Tony all those years?”
“Apparently
not, since your soul is not at peace.”
I
shuddered at the recollection. Scalding tears streamed down my
cheeks. Magnolia slipped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me
against her pillowy chest. Lost in grief and self-pity, I scarcely
noticed, at least for a moment.
She
stroked my cropped hair. “Poor baby. Seems to me that becoming a
nun yourself – well that was a bit much, wasn't it?” A sense of
comfort stole over me. Her floral aroma mingled with the kitchen
spices. “Maybe you chose wrong.”
She
pressed her lips to my forehead. Terror and arousal streaked through
me in alternating waves. I struggled against her entangling arms.
“No, no,” I babbled. “Sin – suicide is a mortal sin – I had
to atone...”
Magnolia
released me with a deep sigh. “Ain't you done enough penance,
Sister?”
I rushed
upstairs to my room without answering, her scent clinging to my
clothing, the mark of her lips branded on my forehead.
6 comments:
Wow. what an intense scene - so full of emotion! And yes, a prostitute and a nun takes the biscuit on forbidden. Lol.
Thanks for taking time to read, Normandie. I like the fact that this scene has only the hints of desire, yet is still so potent.
Nice!!!
Thanks for taking the time to stop by, Stephani!
I look forward to reading the rest of the story!
I feel the same about yours, Jean!
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