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.