by Mara Leigh
“Where would you like to go on our—our date?” I’d been to clubs, even to dinner with some of the women I’d slept with, but wasn’t sure whether or not I’d ever exactly called any of these outings “dates.” Dates seemed like something characters in old movies did.
“I’m not sure. I was hoping you’d suggest something. But…” She looked down at the court, embarrassed. “This will probably be the one and only date I ever go on—”
“Say no more,” I interjected. “We’ll go somewhere special. You should dress up.” I winked, wondering whether she had any clothes other than those she was wearing.
“That sounds lovely,” she said. “I can’t wait. I’m so flattered you asked.”
Faith
“Are you serious?” Sister Henry literally sneered as I emerged from behind the flimsy changing room curtain. “That dress is at least three sizes too big.”
“It’s the best I could do.” I’d scoured every rack at the thrift shop, and the dark navy dress was the only one suitably modest.
“It looks like a dress an old lady would wear to a funeral.” Sister Henry put her hands on her hips—a sure sign she was serious.
I turned toward the mirror and realized she was right. The garment hung nearly to my ankles, and although the neckline covered my chest, the bodice of the dress was so baggy it was possible I’d fit into it twice. Maybe three times.
“Perhaps I can postpone the date. I could take this in a bit.” I gathered a handful of fabric at the back. It revealed my waistline. Shocked at the sight, I dropped the fabric.
“Cancelling would be rude,” Sister Henry said. “Your mystery man has probably made plans, reservations at a restaurant or something.”
I chewed my bottom lip. I did not want to be rude. Especially not to Mac. I liked Mac.
“Listen.” Sister Henry touched my forearm. “The whole point of this date is to experience something ‘normal.’ You can’t go out dressed like you’re Amish.”
“Amish?”
“It’s a Christian denomination. Mennonite?”
I shook my head.
“They came to America from Germany… Never mind.” She rolled her eyes like she always did when something came up I should know. “You can’t go dressed like you’re already a nun.” She pulled a dress from a nearby rack. “How about this?”
She held out a scandalous garment. Dark red, low-cut. And made from a stretchy fabric that would reveal every inch of my shape. Shaking my head, I backed toward the change room.
“Okay, okay.” Holding it out, she tipped her head to the side. “Baby steps. You stay here and I’ll find a few options.”
“Thank you.”
Sister Henry was one of the kindest people I’d ever known, and if I lived to be a hundred and twenty I didn’t know how I’d be able to show her enough gratitude.
Awaiting her return, I stared at my reflection. Mother claimed mirrors promoted vanity—one of the deadly sins—and standing here, looking at the shiny surface, I’d probably seen more of myself today than in my entire life.
I considered my skin—so pale—hair almost white, eyes icy blue. It wouldn’t take a detective to guess my ethnic roots were Norwegian. Mother had been pale, too, but not to such an extreme. Father must have been blond, too.
I turned to the side, then back, scrutinizing my image. Was I pretty? It was vain to even wonder, but today was an experiment in living a normal life, and normal twenty-two-year-olds looked in mirrors and wondered these things, didn’t they?
I’d confess to my vanity before evening Mass.
My stomach fluttered. After our date, would I have other things to confess? What if Mac wanted to kiss me? Would l let him?
Tonight was meant to be a real date, the only date of my life, so I needed to have the full date experience. If the night was destined to end in a kiss, well then, the night would end in a kiss. In fact—I smiled at myself—if Mac didn’t kiss me, I might kiss him.
My cheeks pinked, and I brought my fingers to my lips. How would that feel—a kiss?
As my fingertips circled, desire built between my legs and stirred in my belly. To think I’d gone so many years suppressing any hint of these feelings. The burning and aching felt so sinful, but hadn’t I given myself permission for a day of sin?
“Here.” Sister Henry stepped into the reflection, partially hidden behind a huge pile of dresses in a rainbow of colors, some with bright sparkles that shone under the florescent lighting.
She pushed past me and through the curtain, dropping the clothes on the wooden bench. “There. You’ve got at least a dozen choices. One of them is bound to work.” She straightened, hands on her back. “Now, start trying them on. I’ll be outside, and I expect to see every one.”
By the eighth dress I was finding it slightly easier to step past the curtain and risk being seen by someone other than Sister Henry. Even having my friend see me was a challenge for the first few dresses, which skimmed my shape and revealed more skin than I’d let anyone see since the age of four. The age when Mother taught me to bathe and dress by myself.
“Oh, that’s beautiful!” Sister Henry clapped her hands against her cheeks as I stepped from behind the curtain.
I turned to look in the mirror and gasped. It was hard to recognize myself. The fabric of this dress was thick enough that I didn’t feel naked, but was shiny and soft and almost the same color as my eyes. My arms and shoulders were bare, but the straps holding the dress didn’t look fragile—or in danger of breaking like some of the others—and the neckline draped down in a series of semicircles that shimmered and disguised my breasts. Hints of my nipples had shown through some of the other dresses. Unacceptable.
“It’s not too short?” I looked down at my legs, my gray socks and black shoes looking out of place under the hem that barely reached past my knees.
“No, it’s perfect. We just need to find you a pair of shoes and…” She pulled up close to my ear. “Let’s buy you razor and shave those legs.”
I shook my head.
Only harlots remove hair from their bodies.
Mother’s voice rang in my head. Only a harlot would bare her shoulders, knees, and ankles, too, and I was considering breaking those rules. Still, I had limits.
“Okay. We’ll circle back to the legs.” Sister Henry looked down. “At least you’re blond. We can work with that.”
“I’ve got a pair of black tights.”
“That won’t work.” Sister Henry wrinkled her nose. “But maybe we can find some stockings if you won’t do bare legs.”
“Yes. Stockings.” I wasn’t entirely sure what stockings were, but if they covered the skin on my legs, I’d be happy. It was bad enough my arms weren’t covered. I raised my hand to my throat, circling the small indentation at its base, unused to exposure.
I thought of Mac, shirtless on the basketball court the first time I’d seen him.
I’d barely looked but had seen so much skin.
I ran my hand down my exposed arm, shivering at my own touch. Mac’s body seemed so hard, so strong, so different from mine. Would his skin feel different, too? Surely the housing for a male body must feel different than a female’s. His palms had felt slightly rough against my hands when he’d helped me with the basketball. How would his touch feel on my exposed throat? My arms? The back of my neck?
“What are you thinking about?” Sister Henry’s voice pulled me from my lustful thoughts.
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I’ll finish trying on the dresses.” I reached for the curtain, but she caught my wrist.
“I think this baby-blue crushed velvet is a winner.” She grinned. “It matches your eyes.”
I nodded, excitement and fear stirring my belly. I’d found a dress. This was getting way too real.
Three
Mac
I tried to pick my jaw off the sidewalk.
“What’s wrong?” Faith asked.
“You look…” I searched for words, but had forgotten eve
ry single one. “Amazing.”
“Thank you.” She smiled softly, and my knees almost buckled. I’d thought she was beautiful before, but her baggy clothes, clunky shoes, and tight bun had been hiding buckets more beauty than I’d expected.
Her dress was pale blue, matching her eyes, and her hair fell like soft white silk over her shoulders, some stray pieces decorating the front of the dress that scooped down over her breasts which, while hidden by fabric, looked perfect—the size of summer peaches. She was thin, but elegantly so, and the dress flared out from just below her breasts to gently wash over her body, stopping just below the knee.
“It’s not too much?” She pressed a hand to her belly, making me realize I was staring.
“It’s perfect.” I was grateful I’d worn a suit and had snagged a reservation at the Tonga Room downtown. It was touristy as shit, but she seemed so old-fashioned, so I suspected the tiki bar would be her idea of a place you went on a date. If nothing else, it was fun there.
A reservation hadn’t been easy, but Faith was worth it.
Still—my gaze ran over her body again—I couldn’t help but fantasize what it would be like to touch her, kiss her, never mind fuck her. Even those words in my mind seemed dirty, perverted. I needed to seriously check myself.
“Shall we?” I gestured, and the limo pulled up beside us.
The driver unlocked the back door, like I’d asked, and I opened it for her. “Your chariot awaits.”
“We’re going in this?” Her expression was hard to read. She seemed upset. Turned off.
Not at all my plan. “What’s wrong?”
She rubbed her hands over her bare arms. “All this, it seems so, so decadent. Such a waste. The people in this neighborhood…”
“Hey, I live in this neighborhood.”
One of the sisters, wearing a full habit, stepped out of the gym door behind her. “Faith.”
Faith turned toward the nun.
“What did we agree?” the sister asked, then whispered something into my date’s ear.
Faith hugged the older woman and then turned toward me, smiling. “Thank you for arranging this. Really. I feel so spoiled.”
“It’s my pleasure. You deserve to be spoiled.”
Faith’s cheeks pinked as she passed me and slid into the open limo door.
“Do I know you?” the sister asked me, eyes narrowed.
I shook my head. Our family hadn’t gone to St. Iggy’s with any regularity since we were little kids, and I doubted we had a good reputation even back then.
The sister grabbed my forearm and pulled me toward her. “You be good to her. Respectful.”
“Of course.”
“Make sure she has fun, but…”
I raised my hands. “I get it. She’s innocent. I’d never do anything to hurt her. Really. You can trust me.”
The sister nodded as she backed away. Then she bent down to look into the limo. “Have fun, Faith! Remember what we agreed.”
“I promise,” Faith said from inside the limo, and then I slid in and closed the door.
Faith was pressed up against the far side of the seat. I decided to sit opposite her, hoping it would make her more comfortable, then knocked on the closed divider to let the driver know we were set.
“Can I offer you a drink?” I gestured toward the limo’s bar between us.
“In the car?” Faith’s shock was clear, then she seemed to check herself. “Oh, yes, please. That would be very nice. Water is fine. I am thirsty.”
“I think we can do better than water.” I removed the cage and quickly loosened the cork of a bottle of bubbly, a vintage Napa Valley Mumm.
Faith jumped when the cork came off, then giggled at herself. “Is that alcoholic?”
“It’s wine. Champagne. Sparkling wine, to be more exact.” I poured her a flute. “Is that a problem?”
Her nose wrinkled for a second. Then she shook her head. “I suppose a little wine wouldn’t hurt.”
She accepted the glass. I poured one for myself and reached my flute toward her. “To tonight.”
She looked puzzled for a second, then raised her glass to meet mine. “To tonight.”
After taking a sip of the wine, she raised her fingers to her lips and smiled. “Goodness. That is bubbly.”
“Do you like it?”
She stared at the liquid, watching the bubbles rise, then took another micro-sip. “It’s very nice. Thank you very much.”
“You’re very welcome.” I leaned back in my seat. She held the glass in two hands on her lap and looked out the window.
“What did you promise the Sister?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but then again, her friend’s encouragement had gotten Faith into the car.
She shook her head, acting as if it had been nothing important, then took another small sip of her wine.
“Okay.” I stretched my arm across the back of the seat. “Keep secrets from me, then.”
She smiled softly. “This date was Sister Henry’s idea, you know.”
“Really?” I wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Since when do nuns arrange dates?”
She took another sip of wine. and her shoulders relaxed from their previous position up near her ears. “It’s a long story.”
“We’ve got time.”
“Where I grew up, it was pretty isolated.”
“Minnesota, right?”
She smiled so warmly the temperature in the limo went up a few degrees. “You remembered.”
“Of course.”
“Anyway, Sister Henry is worried about me entering the convent, taking vows without knowing more about life.”
“That makes sense. You need to be sure.”
“Yes, and also so I can better help the parishioners.”
“Like me?” I grinned. “Is tonight about you helping me?”
“No.” She gave me a scolding look, like she wasn’t quite sure what I meant but guessed it was bad. And I was glad of that, because in spite of my better intentions, my words definitely had a double meaning.
“Let’s say a young parishioner needs my counsel about something that happened on a date,” she said. “How could I answer if I’ve never even been on one?”
I nodded. “Good planning, but you know it’s not possible to experience everything someone might come to you about.” I wanted to bite down on my tongue. What if I talked her out of this date before it even started?
“That’s a good point.” Her brow wrinkled, then she took another sip of champagne. “I guess tonight is more about understanding the life I’ll be giving up. Not that I have any doubts.”
“Of course not.” What did it felt like to be that certain about your path in life? “More champagne?”
She drew back into her seat. “Are you trying to take advantage of me?”
I chuckled under my breath.
“Don’t make fun of me.” She leaned forward. “Please.”
“I’m not. Honest.” I slid forward and took her hand, and she stared down at our connection. “Is this okay?”
She nodded, then slowly raised her gaze to meet mine. “I’ve never been on a date. I’ve never worn a fancy dress or shoes like these.”
I glanced down at the shiny silver shoes on her feet, very conservative but better than the nun shoes.
“I’ve never—I’ve never held hands with a boy, or danced with or kissed one, or, or anything, so please don’t make me feel—”
“Faith.” I traced my thumb along the top of her hand, a hand so soft it was hard to imagine it ever had been exposed to air, never mind sunlight. “On my honor. I want to show you a good time tonight. And I want to have a good time, too. I’m not out to hurt you or make fun of you or do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry for being a pill.”
“You’re not. And I agree with Sister Henry. You shouldn’t become a nun without having a taste of normal life. That said, anytime tonight, if you’re not having fun, if you want to go home, all y
ou have to do is ask.”
“Thank you, Mac.”
“You can trust me.”
“I do.”
Faith
I took another sip of the sweet liquid housed in coconut. A drink in a coconut shell. Who could ever imagine something so fancy? Not to mention tasty. “What is this called again?”
“A mai tai,” Mac answered. “And I’d slow down a little, if I were you. They’re stronger than they taste.” He took a sip from his bottle of beer.
I slurped the last of my drink, no longer embarrassed by the sound the straw made as I went for the final few drops. The reward was worth the noise. “Too late!”
Mac grinned at me, and I swore I could feel warmth emanating from across the table—warmth and joy and sincerity. I’d seen how he treated our limo driver, and the man who’d opened the door to the hotel, and the woman who’d sat us here, and the waiter who’d taken care of us for the past few hours—Mac was charming and respectful to everyone.
As far as I could tell, he could make anyone feel comfortable, but the way he looked at me felt different. Special. And I liked it. I liked it a lot.
“You like what?” He leaned toward me.
I raised my hand to my mouth. “Did I say that out loud?”
He took my hand away from my lips and lightly kissed the backs of my fingers. “I’m glad you’re having fun. I thought you might like this place.”
“It’s like we’re in the tropics.”
“The Tonga Room’s old school. Built in the 1940s, I think. And to be honest, mostly tourists come here, but I figured if this was your one and only date, we should go somewhere memorable.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ve already thanked me a hundred times, Faith. Just enjoy yourself. This night’s for you.” He winked. “And I’ve got another surprise later.”
“I think I need to…” I glanced around the room.
Mac stood and then pulled out my chair as I rose. “Ladies’ room is in the corner.”
He’d guessed what I needed, which was a little embarrassing, and my head felt fuzzy. I swayed.
