‘Ah-hah! I have Ahmad to thank for your mood.’
Without preamble, Sybil lifted my feet and sat on the sofa beneath them. She took one foot between her hands and began to knead it with a surprisingly strong grasp. ‘I wondered why you didn’t speak to me at dinner, but I was hoping you were too busy flirting with Brothers Gregory and Jack. Not to mention that fine specimen, Brother Nolan. Now there’s a tongue that knows its way around a cunt.’
I chuckled in spite of myself.
‘So you’ve met him. Tell me about your day, dear. Sister Sybil sees all and knows all, but that doesn’t mean she betrays a confidence.’
This was another facet of my brazen room-mate, a softer side I needed after such an extraordinary first day at Heaven’s Gate. I turned on to my back, folding my arms beneath my head as she continued to ply my foot with firm, soothing strokes. ‘This is the nicest thing that’s happened to me all day. Thank you.’
Sybil’s brow arched. When she turned to look at me in the dimness, I saw a shine in her eyes. ‘Really? Nolan must be losing his touch.’
‘No! It’s just that —’
‘So he did lick you! You’re getting around faster than I’d have thought, Mary Grace!’ She gripped my toes together in a tight bunch, her grin mischievous. ‘I won’t finish this foot until you tell me about it. Every delicious detail.’
I knew better than to deny her, if I wanted any sleep. And it felt good to have a sympathetic listener, someone who might understand my plight better than a man. ‘Brother Christy rescued me from Father Luc’s office for a tour of the grounds this morning, and —’
‘You’re not getting along with the abbot?’
I sighed. ‘He’s overbearing, at best. Peeved because Brother Christy fetched me a chair and a worktable, which he originally denied me.’
‘He’ll get over it. Is your quilt going well?’
‘Oh, yes. The picture’s nearly complete, and I’ll put the layers together tomorrow.’
‘Then he has no reason to glare down his bony nose at you…unless he’s so taken with you he can’t get his own work done. Go on — you were touring.’ Her hands took up my other foot, magically massaging away the knots of tension.
‘I was just in time for the orchard ritual where they fertilise a tree.’
Sybil giggled. ‘Impressive, isn’t it? Just like a bunch of men to rationalise such ludicrous behaviour by calling it a ceremony, when they’re really measuring each other up while having a pissing contest, followed by a come-off.’
I blinked, yet her assessment matched mine. ‘Brother Christy said the women have similar morning exercises with you and Mrs Goodin, in the interest of keeping everyone spiritually attuned rather than —’
‘Horny? Out of control?’ Sybil let out an incredulous snort. ‘Now honestly, Mary Grace! Can you picture Hortense Goodin directing a circle of women who’re fondling themselves?’
‘Well, no,’ I admitted. ‘Her name is Hortense?’
‘Appropriate, eh? As in a whore who’s tense?’ Laughing at her own joke, Sybil ran her fingernails along the soles of my feet. ‘Christy’s a bit deluded if he thinks we kitchen workers hold organised shooting sprees. We take care of our needs as they arise, and then we’re back to work. Much tidier and more efficient.’
‘Oh.’ I tried not to squirm as her touch sent streaks of fine lightning up my legs. ‘I was hoping to use that as a reason for getting out of Father Luc’s office each morning.’
‘You’d rather play with the ladies than pay constant homage to —’
‘It’s not like that! I just want a chance to be around other —’
Sybil silenced me by pressing my feet together and then planting a loud kiss on one of them. ‘Don’t mind me. I’m just throwing you a line, because you’re so willing to be reeled in, sweet Mary.’ She cast me a pensive glance, her warm hands still stroking my ankles. ‘Come visit us any time you like. You’re probably quite competent in the kitchen.’
‘I don’t have the impression I’m free to come and go.’
‘Rubbish! Are you chained to that chair?’ she demanded, her eyes shining in the darkness. ‘Just walk out! Hyde didn’t bring you here to be the abbot’s shadow.’
Once again Sybil was showing me a perspective I hadn’t considered, probably because I was so accustomed to doing as I was told…or as I’d been intimidated into believing. Perhaps Ahmad’s talk about new realities and challenges had merit, after all. ‘You may be right.’
‘Of course I’m right! Now get on with your story. Cut right to the part about Brother Nolan,’ she said coyly. ‘Truly an inspiration, that man. Nothing I enjoy more than watching him wink and flash those big blue eyes at me while he’s working his tongue under my muff.’
I cleared my throat self-consciously. ‘He volunteered his medical expertise after I was overcome by the sight of that uh, ceremony. It’s good we have a doctor here at the abbey.’
‘Doctor?’ Sybil laughed raucously. ‘Nolan likes to play doctor, but as far as I know he was doing carpentry and chimney sweeping before he came here.’
Another discrepancy revealed. Or was my room-mate playing Devil’s advocate — throwing me another of those lines because I was such a naïve little fish? Her hands were working up my calves now, relaxing me wonderfully, so I didn’t challenge her. And it wasn’t like I was about to reveal something about other residents she didn’t already know.
‘Well, Brother Nolan did indeed sweep my chimney,’ I quipped, ‘while Brother Jack and Brother Gregory suspended me between them, holding me open for him. Quite a sensation, being held by two naked men while their friend purged me of my distracting libidinous impulses. And Brother Christy looked on as though it happened every day.’
‘That’s all he ever does. I’m not sure if he pleasures himself, or if there’s no equipment hanging under that cassock.’ Sybil glanced at me, while her hands climbed higher. ‘So then you met Ahmad?’
‘Yes. And speaking of equipment,’ I mused aloud, ‘does that man’s pecker always poke out of his pants?’
‘Amazing, isn’t he? I don’t know if he goes around in a constant state of arousal, or if he’s just that glad to be with me — and now you! See how quickly everyone’s come to love you, Mary Grace?’
I wished I could believe that. I wished I felt as comfortable with my new friends as Hyde had promised I would. ‘Did you have trouble adjusting when you first came here, Sybil? I — I feel like a very square peg in a world of round holes.’
My words came out sounding more pathetic than I intended, but the lithe elf at my feet responded with almost maternal compassion. She rose on to her knees, positioning herself between my legs as she faced me. After shoving the coverlet to the floor, she resumed her massage by placing a hand on each of my thighs, levering her weight into each stroke. I realised now where her ministrations might lead, yet I so badly wanted her counsel I didn’t protest.
‘Let me guess which round hole Ahmad tried to peg,’ she ventured softly. ‘And is that why you supposedly disappointed him?’
I nodded, watching her move above me in a steady rhythm that had become the metre of my own breathing. She again wore black pants and shirt, and her panther-like movements made her seem a creature of the night; far more erotic, even fully dressed, than any of the men I’d encountered here. This thought surprised me, for I still had no designs upon Sybil, nor the desire to pursue her as anything other than a friend.
‘Well, we all have our preferences,’ she explained quietly, ‘and dear old Ahmad just likes to enter through the back door. We have no one else of colour here, so who knows how he’d act if he could be with others from his part of the world.’
Her voice had lost the edge she’d cut me with last night. She was simply Sybil, talking woman to woman, and working a subtle spell with her touch. Her fingertips ran up the insides of my thighs, pushing my flimsy nightgown ahead of them. She held it there, studying me for a long moment before letting out a sigh.
&
nbsp; ‘Look at you,’ she breathed, folding back the fabric so it stayed out of her way. ‘Firm, lovely legs crowned by a heart-shaped bush. Pouty little lips sticking out, begging me to —’
She almost touched me, but then clasped her hands against herself. ‘I forget that not everyone shares my enthusiasm for this. If you want me to leave you be, just say so, Mary Grace. I was rude last night, testing you, but I can see you’ve had a perplexing day.’
‘I asked you a question,’ I replied just as softly.
She smiled, sitting back on her heels. Her expressive hands spanned her own thighs, sighing along the fabric of her pants. ‘Did I have trouble adjusting? you ask. Did I ever feel like a very square peg among a lot of round holes?’ She let her head fall back in thought, making a very provocative silhouette against the moonlit window.
‘I think it was easier for me to come here because, first of all, I wrote my own ticket with Father Luc. I was slaving away in my maiden aunt’s bakery. She raised me, and considered every day’s gruelling work my penance for possessing such a wayward state of mind.’
I chuckled, glad for this insight into Sybil’s past. ‘And you told him your bourbon pecan pound cake would make his cock throb?’
‘Yes, ma’am! And he took me up on that, as well as on various other offers, so I arrived at the monastery with a talent that would make him money, among other things. But I suppose I had an easier time, once I established myself among the monks, because I’ve never been bothered by a conscience.’
She leaned forward again, bracing her hands on my thighs so she could look me directly in the eye. ‘You’re a preacher’s daughter, so guilt and shame come as naturally to you as greed and seduction do to me. Is this making sense, Mary Grace?’
I blinked. ‘It never occurred to me that a human could exist without a conscience. I’ve always been told it was what put us a step above the animals, and kept us on the upward way.’
‘Some of us prefer the low road.’
Did this make Sybil an evil woman? A daughter of the Devil himself? She was now pressing so close against me I could smell cigarette smoke and feel the heat of her body. All I heard was the pounding of my pulse, which matched the throbbing down where my clitoris met the fabric of her pants. She had me trapped, awaiting my spoken reply and my body’s response, yet this felt so different from being Father Luc’s prisoner. I lay beneath her willingly; expectantly. My mouth went dry as I stared up into her slender, sloe-eyed face.
‘I’m trying to understand,’ I rasped. ‘If Heaven’s Gate is a religious retreat where I’ve been told sexual activity is strictly forbidden, why does everyone around me pursue release while calling it something else?’
She flashed me the grin of a vixen, slipping a finger into my wet cleft. ‘Why do children do exactly as they’re told not to? Why do men sneak into whorehouses while their wives take secret lovers?’
I couldn’t answer that. Until I’d met Hyde Fortune and his staff, with their rampant appetites, I wasn’t aware such yearnings existed. I was the daughter of the Reverend Jeremiah Michaels, and I simply hadn’t been exposed to this side of life.
‘Some day you’ll figure it out, Mary Grace,’ Sybil whispered, leaning so low her breath caressed my face. Her fingers stroked steadily between our bodies, further igniting that forbidden fire. ‘And when you do, Lord love us all! I may have to step aside as the Queen of Cunts.’
‘Hah! You’ll never give up that throne!’
With a wicked giggle, she threw her head back and rocked against me in earnest, her gypsy hoops bobbing as her hand probed the depths of my sex. Three of her fingers plied my pussy into a quivering itch demanding to be scratched, while her thumb settled against the nub that now stuck out as blatantly as Ahmad’s amazing member. I bucked against her, raising my legs to invite even deeper thrusts. The sofa creaked and shifted beneath us, until I feared it might collapse, but I was too caught up in those wild inner tightenings to care.
‘Oh, Sybil…Jesus me!’ I rasped, and for all I knew I flew up towards the ceiling with my release. When I came back into myself, I was aware of hands gently stroking my hips as the woman between my shaking legs slowed my breathing by regulating her own.
She sighed. ‘You spent yourself so gloriously I have very wet pants.’
‘Wet from the inside,’ I quipped, and then giggled uncontrollably. ‘And it’s your own damn fault, you know. I was lying here minding my own business when you came in.’
‘Feeling dejected and miserable. Admit it now! Aren’t you just glowing with goodwill and a sense that all’s right with the world?’
Sybil spoke the truth. And I had an inkling of what it might be like to choose the low road, without the inconvenience of a conscience. ‘I feel guilty, indulging in this gratification when I’ve promised myself to Hyde.’
‘Well forget your guilt! Think of how pleased he’ll be that you’ve learned so much about your body’s responses,’ she insisted. ‘And how grateful he’ll be that instead of a simpering little thing too afraid — or ignorant — to ask for what she wants, he’ll be taking up with a lover anyone would delight in. Think of it as a gift only you can give him.’
Sybil eased herself from between my legs. The scent of my sex teased me as she stood beside the sofa, smiling. ‘You’ve had a remarkable day, dear Mary. Get your rest now. Tomorrow promises to be another adventure.’
Chapter Eleven
Caught in the Act — Again
I sat sewing, embroidering the final details of a gloriously golden butterfly, while the abbot and Mrs Goodin reviewed their accounts. With the sun beaming through my little window, I was content to spend the day on this quilt, because I loved working with the fabrics and colours — and because with both of my wardens close by, the opportunity for getting away seemed unlikely.
I had plenty to think about, anyway: three intimate encounters with people I’d known less than a day made me wonder if I’d left my conscience behind with Hyde, or even forfeited it when I gave myself to him. I wasn’t so far from that low road Sybil had mentioned, and this change in my behaviour concerned me.
Startled by a pounding on the door, I pricked my finger. Before Father Luc could grant permission for our visitor to enter, Sybil carried in a cake topped with prettily arranged apple slices and cherries, so redolent with brandy we could’ve gotten tipsy on the aroma alone. She winked slyly at me.
‘Father Luc! Mrs Goodin!’ she exclaimed. ‘We’ve concocted a recipe for upside-down cake, and want your opinion on whether it should become a new product. And since our main project today will be dipping cherries, I’m hoping Mary Grace can assist us. Best to work quickly, with several hands, so the chocolate doesn’t clot, you know.’
Something told me my room-mate had concocted more than cake: her story reeked of that adventure she’d spoken of last night, if her secretive grins were any clue. Mrs Goodin’s raised eyebrow told me she smelled something behind Sybil’s visit as well, but the man beside her accepted the gift as though his favourite kitchen wench were offering herself on a platter.
‘What a thoughtful gesture. And if you devised this recipe, Sybil, I can count on its success without even tasting it.’
High praise, from a man who had only rules and criticism for me. But then, Sybil had known how to flatter and appeal to this man’s desires from the start. I watched their exchange of glances, sucking the blood from my fingertip. Her catlike green eyes danced with his darker ones; her hips shifted as she talked, and her hair — swept back from her forehead into a ribbon, tumbling down her back in a cascade of smoky auburn waves — swung seductively as she suggested names for the new recipe.
When they’d finished flirting, Father Luc glanced my way. ‘Well? Are you going to sit there with your finger in your mouth, or will you dip cherries with Sybil?’
‘Sorry, sir. Fingered my prick — er, pricked my finger.’
Colour rose in the abbot’s cheeks, and I saw the hint of a bulge in his cassock. Sybil, meanwhile, wa
s braying with laughter, which Mrs Goodin found inappropriate.
‘I think we all have work to do,’ she said stiffly. ‘And if these accounts are accurate, we’ve seen an increase in kitchen expenditures these past few months, which our sales don’t justify. Look well to your budget, Sister Sybil. We support several people here, and if you waste our food, we’ll have to cut back to two meals a day. That won’t be a popular decision.’
‘So don’t make it,’ the redhead retorted. ‘Mr Fortune will bring our Christmas profits with him this Friday. Your ledger — among other things — will look more flush once he arrives.’
Damn her, for looking at me when she said that! I rose from my chair before Warden Hortense or the abbot could change their minds about my going.
‘You’re obnoxious!’ I hissed as Sybil and I strode through the front doors of the abbey.
‘Got you out of there, didn’t I? And this is my thanks for making up that cake, and the story to go with it?’ She snickered as we approached the back side of the building. ‘Between the liquor in that cake and the hot talk, Father Luc will be steamed all morning.’
‘What about Goodin? What if she comes to watch us dip our cherries?’
‘She’s probably fingering her own right now,’ my companion said with a smirk. ‘Old Hor-tense puts up a frigid front, but underneath that uniform she’s got a twat just like the rest of us. Did you see her eyeing that bulge in the abbot’s cassock? They couldn’t wait for us to leave.’
I had trouble picturing the abbot allowing his housekeeper to pleasure him — especially since it was Sybil who got him aroused. But stranger things had happened at Heaven’s Gate, and I was a poor predictor of what might transpire between any of those who lived here.
The kitchen smelled like a chocolate shop, with an undertone of brandy. Sybil smiled, pleased with the industriousness of her helpers while she’d been away. ‘I’ve brought our newest resident, Mary Grace, to see how we make our sweets,’ she announced. ‘She’s eager to help, so I bet she’ll be as good at dipping her cherry as the rest of us, by the time we finish this morning!’
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