Sweet Salvation

by Lily Miles

  “Have you ever—?” I start to ask, before cutting myself off and biting my lip.

  How would I word this? Just what was I going to ask her? What had happened last night, it was a mistake, it had to be. I’d allowed my physical desire to overwhelm me. I touched places on my body that I never should have. I’d allowed Trevor to get under my skin and make me wonder what it would be like to be stroked by a man like him with his rough, muscular hands.

  But that goes against everything I’ve dedicated my life to. I'm a nun, living by the veil, and I won’t give that up. I’d chosen to follow this life because of my deep devotion to my faith. Would I be shaken so easily?

  I’d been warned of temptation, but I’d never had any idea temptation would come in such a strong, tan, inviting package. “Package”—in high school I’d heard what that was the nickname for. That bulge in his pants, that’s what it meant. That bulge … oh my God, how can I be thinking these thoughts now? What kind of sinner had I become?

  “Have I ever what, Maggie?” Catherine presses, eyeing me.

  She reaches over, lightly hooking one finger under a sleeve of my nightgown that’s tumbled off my shoulder and lazily dragging it back up in place. The sudden touch makes me forcefully bite back a soft moan, that electricity still sparking around in me. Every touch seems amplified, and all I can think is what it would be like to sink into Trevor’s arms and have him touch me all over.

  At the throaty sound, Catherine’s head tilts even further. Her eyes skim the red flush creeping over my neck and the way I can't seem to draw more than a shallow pant as a breath. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “I'm fine,” I murmur, mind reeling for an excuse for my inexplicable behavior. “I was just going to ask if you’ve ever heard anything as ridiculous as Mother Antonia’s rule from today.”

  Catherine rolls her eyes and flops backward on the bed, the sheet falling free so that her bare upper torso is illuminated by the moonlight. I can’t help but stare at her, taking in the shadows of her ribs and the glow around her perky, full breasts. Despite the fact that Cat habitually sleeps in the buff, I’ve never seen her body up until today. I’ve never seen an adult’s naked body, for that matter, and Catherine’s is as flawless and beautiful as any in a Renaissance painting.

  My eyes finally meet hers, a faint smile on her face.

  She doesn’t say anything, but I can tell she’s enjoying the way I look at her, as though she’s flaunting a rare treasure that’s only hers to possess. She smirks when I blush and look away. Thankfully, she’s feeling gracious and she doesn’t bring it up again, instead returning to the discussion at hand.

  “I know, that lady is on a serious power trip. She’s acting like we’re schoolgirls to be harangued, instead of women. Giving us homework, throwing a fit when it’s not done perfectly, then putting us all in detention. There’s no way we’re all going to stay locked up in the walls of this prison.”

  “What else will we do?” I ask honestly, forgetting her nudity and staring at her in mystification. “She has eyes that follow you everywhere, like that crucifix in her office. She’ll know if we go outside. Our project is over; we won’t be able to work in the gardens after all.”

  It pained me that I wouldn’t be able to see Trevor anymore, but it also brought me a measure of relief. Perhaps it was for the best. The way he’d captivated my mind lately surely couldn’t be beneficial to my bond with my faith. Maybe in her own way, Mother Antonia sensed my trials and had decided to help me stick to my holy vows.

  Sensing that her body had lost its shock value and was no longer being admired, Catherine draws her blanket back up to her pale chin so she’s completely tucked away. She bites down on the inside corner of her cheek, the same thing she does every time she’s deep in thought. For a whole thirty seconds she’s silent, which is the longest period of quiet I’ve observed from her since arriving at this place.

  Then she blinks and relaxes once more, reclining like a cat on the lumpy mattress.

  “Do you remember what you said earlier? You know, when we were telling Trevor about our project and asking for him to assist us?” she asks, folding her arms behind her head and gazing at me down the length of her nose.

  I remember perfectly: I told Trevor that I was looking forward to saving his soul. In truth, I hadn't been thinking about his soul at all when I spoke those words, though I was trying to convince myself that was the cause of the enthusiasm I felt about the project.

  I had shyly hidden behind Cat while we spoke, because I didn't want him to pick up on the unclean thoughts whirling through my head. I’d thought if I had anything separating us, maybe my head would stop churning so wildly for at least a moment. But that had not been the case. Every time the wind blew, it was laced with his scent. It wasn’t even a cologne or anything, it was just this masculine, strong fragrance combined with earth and sun and sweat; it made my entire body prickle.

  “You said you were going to save his soul, Maggie,” Cat reminds me gently, lifting her knee and drawing the blanket down towards her collarbone, so that she can nudge me with one of her small feet.

  She prods my leg, almost tipping me over, but I grab her ankle to steady myself while stifling laughter so that no one would hear us out in the hall. We’re already carefully making sure to whisper so that our voices aren’t carried down the passageways of the nunnery, as you never know where Mother Antonia—or her spy, Eva—is lurking.

  Catherine grins at me, jerking me again and threatening to topple me onto the carpet, but eventually relents and lets me sit still.

  “Are you really going to let Mother Antonia stop you from bringing Trevor closer to Christ?” Catherine asks.

  I’ve known Catherine for long enough to know her tricks. While she may not glory in the Bible like the rest of us do, all the same, she knows it from front to back. She’s able to pull out any Scripture she needs to make you doubt yourself, and she can be so manipulative, at times she even out-maneuvers uber-manipulator Mother Antonia.

  With a deft ability to instantly change her expression—from innocent cherub to tearful wretch—chameleon Catherine would’ve made a wonderful actress in another life.

  Despite this, there's a real curiosity in Cat’s face as she poses the question.

  Maybe she’s not as sure I'm devoted to my Bible as she’s previously thought. Then again, I’ve been wondering that lately, too.

  Still, I'm not sure what the right answer is.

  Disobey my mother superior and try to preach to someone who isn’t one of God’s children, who needs to be brought into the flock? Or obey her and allow Trevor to slip further and further from his holy light. Neither one was an exactly perfect choice, but neither one felt strictly wrong either. It would certainly be easier to obey Mother Antonia and close my eyes and plug my ears and pretend like Trevor doesn’t exist. But then, would a part of me always wonder, what if …?

  Catherine shifts and slowly pushes herself up to her knees, wrapping her arms around me in one swift, elegant motion. I'm captured against her naked chest, our bodies separated only by the thin cotton of my nightgown.

  I can feel every inch of her against me, her heartbeat calm against my own rapid one, her naked arms smooth as silk. The embrace is so cozy, warmer than any separated by habits, and my head instinctively nestles against her shoulder.

  “Maybe you should pray on this a while,” Cat suggests, her breath hot in my ear. She strokes my back before releasing me, her hands lightly on my shoulders. “But, I promise I’ll do whatever I can to help you if you decide to continue to aid Trevor. I think you two have a special bond, Mags. I think that if anyone is going to help him, it’ll be you. You may be the gardener’s one and only shot at eternal salvation.”

  I can’t tell if Catherine is playing her little mind games with me or if she’s being genuine, but there’s a certain look of sincerity in her eyes that’s startling.

  Catherine is compassionate in her own way, like when she stood up for Monica during
the meeting between us sisters and the mother superior this afternoon, but she is rarely sincere.

  “I’ll pray tonight and let you know what decision I’ve made tomorrow,” I eventually say with a nod, before climbing off of Cat’s bed and making my way back to my own.

  She rolls onto her side, the blanket cast lightly over her hip, and props her head up on one of her hands while she watches me climb between my sheets. Even when a cloud rolls slowly in front of the moon and blocks out the silver light, I can still feel her eyes piercing through the shadowed room, watching me.

  Obediently, I close my eyes and fold my hands over my chest, running through my usual prayers and thanks before I allow my mind to once again wander towards Trevor and what I should do to help him.

  It wouldn’t be right to turn my back on him just because it was the easier choice. I'm sure Mother Antonia has her reasons for increasing the confinement of our cloistered lives here at the nunnery, but I won’t be persuaded to close my heart like she wants to close the convent doors.

  Trevor needs me, and so I will be his key to heaven in any way that I can. If I have to break a few rules here and there to do it, surely it will be worth it in the end.

  14

  Trevor

  The morning had come and gone, and there was no sight of either of the nuns who’d come the day before asking for my help with their convent mission.

  Though I kept an eye out for the sisters, they never came out to see me or tend to the gardens like I’d assumed they would. I know nothing about a nun’s life or what it must be like inside the convent, so I just assume that they ended up having some affairs they needed to deal with, and they’d come out to me whenever they had a few minutes to spare. Still, I found myself impatiently staring at the convent doors, just wishing Maggie would emerge.

  Eagerness to see Maggie again has all but consumed me, especially after the way she’d been looking at me when we spoke yesterday. I know nothing can happen between us. I know she has her vows. But a man can’t help but hope for even the smallest of sparks to ignite and be shared.

  All night long I’d been thinking about her. Every time I closed my eyes I could see her face on the backs of my eyelids, her lip caught roughly between her teeth, her dark eyes wide, her cheeks flushed.

  In the shower this morning, I’d tipped my head back under the hot spray of water and welcomed it as it poured down me, heating me to the bone. The warmth only made it harder to keep my mind clear of the beautiful nun, and desire had rippled through me, surging through my veins like a firestorm—wild and uncontrollable. As I thought about her, lust seared through me ’til the desire was almost unbearable. I felt my erection swelling between my thighs until my cock was so hard I could barely breathe. It was a mix of pleasure and pain unlike anything I’d ever felt before, and it’s all because of her.

  It felt wrong to jack off to the face of a nun, or those long, shapely legs crowned by that triangular mound of white lace I’d seen underneath her habit, so I’d done everything I could to not wrap my hand around my long, thick shaft—think of baseball, things I had to do on the grounds that morning, where I’d like to live after getting out of here—but it was all for naught, I couldn’t resist.

  Even after I’d pushed the faucet to the other side, making the water as cold as it could possibly get, my erection wouldn’t fade. It throbbed so much that I had little choice but to grip it, gritting my teeth and grunting with the intense sensation I got from touching it. Up and down I’d stroked, thinking of her face, her legs, that sweet pussy covered with virginal, white lace.

  Then my eyes rolled back in my head and Maggie’s name combined with moans that were just barely concealed by the surge of water deluging the shower stall. I imagined what it would be like to strip the veil from her head and cradle her face in my hands. I imagined what her lips would taste like against mine, and what it would feel like to roll between bed sheets with her legs wrapped around my waist, her hands intertwined with my own as I thrust deep inside her. To the hilt.

  I could already picture what her beautiful curves would look like, the way she’d gaze up at me shyly through her long eyelashes, when she stood naked before me in all her divine glory.

  When at last I came, it had been so intense and long that I’d slipped in the shower and come crashing down on the floor, but the incredible bliss of the orgasm had been such that it didn't bother me. I lay there grinning like a fool, while somebody banged on the door to make sure I was okay, ice-cold water pouring over me.

  Even just thinking about it now had me grinning like a fool again as I returned to the staff apartment for lunch. I’d tried to go by the convent kitchen but the doors were locked. I thought perhaps it was another forced period of starvation for the nuns, and I told myself I would stick two extra sandwiches for Catherine and Maggie in my bag just in case.

  The incident of the other day—when I’d accidentally misplaced my notebook—has already completely slipped from my mind. I’d been worried someone saw what was in the pages, but so far it seems only Cliff had been privy to the drawings and he hadn't mentioned them at all since he gave the notebook back to me. Since then, I’d been far more careful, double checking that I still had it everywhere I went. I couldn’t risk anyone seeing those drawings of Maggie’s unruly curls: that picture was just for me.

  Henry is in the kitchen when I shamble in through the front doors, which were propped open to allow the cool spring air to drift inside the building.

  I can tell a storm is on the horizon, even though the sky is still cloudless and blue as a sapphire, because the breeze is more chilly than it has been for a week.

  The older gardener glances over when I enter, slathering so much mayo on his sliced bread that he might as well not even bother with any other condiment. It’s layered so thickly that it looks like a coat of whipped white icing; it makes my stomach turn.

  “Want a mayonnaise sandwich?” he asks. When I wrinkle my nose in disgust and shake my head, he adds a gruff, “Suit yourself,” and slathers some more mayo on the bread before stacking another piece of bread on top of it.

  He grabs it with his hands and takes a huge bite, globs of white goo dripping from the bread onto the counter. When he’s finished, he doesn’t even bother to clean up the mess he made, instead licking his dirty fingers and frowning at me while I rip into another granola bar. I savor the sweetness of honey and oats as I eat it slowly, glad Henry isn’t in charge of any of the meals for the rest of us workers. I would rather starve for a week like the nuns than eat a single one of those gross concoctions.

  “So did you hear?” he asks, gazing at me as he continues sucking on his fingers.

  “Hear what?” I mutter, wishing someone else would walk into the kitchen and take Henry’s attention off me. I really just want to be alone and thinking about Maggie.

  “About the nuns,” he offers unhelpfully.

  I just wish he'd get to the point. An irked vein pulses in my temple, but I keep my face calm. I can’t tell if his slow speech is difficult on purpose, or if he’s just naturally maddening.

  “Did something happen?” I press, slightly worried that something had happened to Catherine or Maggie, and that was why they’d been mysteriously absent all morning.

  Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen any of the younger nuns today, only the older ones had been outside. Usually at least one of the young ones would wander outside to pick a few flowers, or to soak up a few minutes of sun between their devotionals. Or that elder one, Sister Ruth, occasionally trudged out to bring me a glass of cold water, but I hadn’t even seen her today. The girls had better hurry if they wanted any chance of working in the garden before the storm rolled in.

  When Henry just keeps staring at me, I realize he’s going to make me drag the news out of him, inch by inch. The vein against my temple pulsates once more.

  “Is anyone injured? I just figured Mother had ordered another fast,” I say quietly.

  “You call the mother superior ‘Mo
ther?’” chuckles Henry, distracted from our conversation like a train diverted onto the wrong tracks.

  At least then I was pretty confident that none of the girls were hurt, or surely he would’ve shown some concern. With Henry, though, you never can tell.

  “She asked me to,” I answer dryly, “After you sent me into her office looking for seeds. Now, about the nuns—”

  He barks out a laugh, one hand clapping against his chest. “Sorry about that, kid. It’s a little prank I play on the newbie gardeners. Can’t help myself.”

  I grit my jaw. “And the nuns?” I prod for what feels like the thousandth time.

  “Ah, they’re all fine. Fine as anyone could be, locked in that place, anyway,” he mutters with a shrug.

  He starts to shuffle past me, the scent of cigarettes clinging like a cloud around him.

  “So what was the news?” I call after him, but he’s already ambled outside, giving no indication whatsoever of telling me what was on his mind.

  I shake my head slowly back and forth, baffled by his odd presence, and then grab a napkin and quickly clean up the mayo covered counter Henry had left behind. He doesn’t seem to care that anyone else would have to clean up his mess, but I don’t want anyone else to return home after a long day to a filthy kitchen, one that I was in last.

  Snagging another granola bar and tossing a few into my bag in case the girls need some sustenance, I sling my backpack over my shoulder and walk back outside. Against my back, my notebook thumps lightly, comforting me with its presence. I head towards the back of the convent where I’d chosen a sunny spot just under the back wall to start putting together a raised garden bed. I wasn’t sure what types of fruits or vegetables or flowers Maggie and Catherine had in mind to cultivate, but this nice spot would give them plenty of options. They could grow peas or cucumbers or rosemary or raspberries, and it would all turn out great, as long as I was there to help them along, of course.