Sweet Salvation

by Lily Miles

  “Could you be a dear and push this out to the laundry van for me?” Ruth asks, pointing at the doors. Erik gives a blank nod, grabbing the cart and beginning to push it away.

  “You really should hurry, Erik!” she calls after him. “Those deliverymen can get rather irritable when it comes to punctuality!”

  40

  Margaret

  Even though the clothes smell sour and I'm pretty sure I'm lying right on top of my rain and mud-soaked habit from the other day, I’ve never been so thrilled in my life to have anything to do with dirty clothes.

  The cart rumbles as it begins to move across the cobbled stone floor, the muffled voices of Sister Ruth and the head chef drifting in through the layers of clothing.

  I dig through the layers of clothes, searching for Trevor. Though we’d been holding on to one another when we jumped into the laundry chute, the rough ride down had separated us. I’d felt his weight when he crashed into the laundry cart with me, but the clothes had piled up so fast that I hadn't been able to grab hold of him.

  His face appears through the clothes, a huge grin on his face. He reaches out towards me, squirming between the clothes as if he were swimming, and grabs hold of my hand. Our fingers lace, our eyes locked on one another.

  The cart rumbles forward and I careen into Trevor as it tilts upward: we are being pushed up the truck’s ramp. “We made it,” he whispers when the cart is righted and safely inside the delivery truck that will take us to town. His eyes glitter, even though he’s knocked his head on the side of the chute and he’s got a bump growing there. “We really made it, Maggie.”

  His mouth captures mine and we share a kiss of pure, delirious joy. Even though Mother Antonia had done her best to bring us down, we’d overcome her and we were free, gloriously free. Nothing mattered anymore as long as Trevor and I are together—I’d go anywhere in the world with this man. In fact, I hope we will go all over the world. There are so many things that I want to see. I want to meet new people and taste new foods and experience all the life I almost deprived myself of.

  I also want to spend thousands of hours exploring Trevor’s body, delighting in the way he reacts when my tongue traces every inch of him. After all, God wouldn’t have made Trevor so tantalizing and delicious if He didn't want me to savor him.

  “Why are you looking at me like that, Maggie?” Trevor teases, pulling me against him. I giggle and stroke my hands down his face and then down his still-naked chest.

  Then, softly, I press my forehead against his.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, earning a slightly confused look from the young man. I press a soft kiss to his lips, still allowing my fingers to sweep over the curves and crevices of his toned body. “For saving me, Trevor.”

  “Oh,” he answers, a sweet blush forming on his cheeks. He averts his eyes for a moment and then brushes the tip of his nose against my own. “I don’t think I can really take credit for that, Maggie. I heard the way you were standing up to Mother Antonia and Henry. You were going to get out of that room, whether or not I busted down that door.”

  I giggle and shake my head. “No, silly. I'm not talking about that. You saved me by showing me what love and passion and ferocity felt like, by showing me that I could feel that, too. Had I never met you, I would’ve carried on thinking that love was the lackluster devotion I had to my faith.”

  For too long, I’d believed love was about repression, but now I know it is about freedom.

  And looking back on it all, I’d been so blessed! What would have happened if Mother Antonia hadn't chosen me to punish that morning for Sister Monica stealing her chocolates? What if she had picked Sister Grace or Sister Isabelle or even Cat to whip with that wooden cross? Would it be one of those girls in Trevor’s arms now?

  Seeming to sense my thoughts, Trevor hugs me tighter. “If I saved you, then you saved me, too, Maggie. I had no drive. I was lost and had no sense of purpose in life. But being with you makes me feel so strong—you make me want to be a better man.”

  We share another tender kiss. Once again, I feel that heat begin to pulse through my veins. My hands wander over him, wondering how he could have not felt strong before meeting me, when his body is so massive and muscled.

  His hands wander over me as well, pushing up the shirt I'm wearing so that he can grip my naked hips. I bite back a moan, a shudder rippling through me. It feels so good, so right, to have his rough fingertips on my naked body. I find the fly of his pants and unzip it so that I can slide one of my hands inside. His breath hitches, eyes closing, as my eager fingertips find his cock, now swelling under my exploratory touch. I stroke my hand against it, feeling the smooth heat of it against my palm, and then wrap my fingers around it.

  I hold Trevor’s cock in my grasp, slowly stroking up and down the great, stiffening length of it as he twitches and moans. Fascinated, I scrutinize its tantalizing thickness and the way the swollen veins strain against my fingers, the way the bulbous tip has beads of cum already forming at the tip of it.

  “I want you,” he murmurs, his eyes opening to stare at me piercingly.

  My heart thumps, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I gulp and nod faintly, not even able to speak. Will I ever get used to having someone so incredibly attractive, attracted to me?

  He grabs me roughly and flips me over, but when he’s just about to push inside me from behind, the faint noise of a commotion ripples outside. There are men’s voices and another female one. Trevor pulls me back against him so that my back is pressed to his chest. He wraps one arm around me, the other poised to defend us. Outside, the female voice shrieks, “Wait!”

  Somebody clambers up the ramp. Then, just as suddenly, clothes are ripped away from our faces. Catherine stares down at Trevor and me, her face bright and shining.

  “I made it,” she whispers, tears brimming in her eyes. “I wanted to say goodbye, Mags.”

  “Goodbye, Cat,” I start to say, but Catherine throws half of her body into the laundry cart and grabs my face, her lips pressing directly on mine.

  The taste of jasmine and honey bursts against my lips and she pulls back, eyes glittering. I stare back at her, red as a lobster. Cat giggles, looking pleased as ever to have taken me by surprise.

  “Go, be happy, Mags. I love you,” she whispers with a wink, hurling herself out of the cart and then running down the truck’s ramp.

  I stare into the space where she just vanished, one hand pressed to my lips. Trevor continues to hold me, his breath hot on my neck as he presses a gentle kiss on my tingling flesh.

  “Get out of here, boys!” I hear Catherine shouting from outside as the ramp goes up and the back of the truck is secured.

  As we're plunged into darkness and the truck lurches forward, I close my eyes, praying that one day Catherine is able to get away from Mother Antonia, just like I have. One day, her time will come, and Cat will know the freedom and happiness I feel.

  41

  Trevor

  Maggie’s fingers intertwine tightly with mine, her head heavy on my shoulder as we walk up the stairs to the room I’d rented for us in a tiny, local hotel a forty-five minute drive from the Convent of the Blessed Virgin.

  When we walk into the room, I go over to the window. You can just barely make out the tiny speck that is the convent, its lights glowing in the remote distance up in the hills. I shut the blinds before turning back to Maggie, offering a gentle smile and sitting down on the bed.

  She smiles back at me before walking forward, slipping down onto my lap and wrapping her arms around my neck. She presses her forehead to mine, gazing into my eyes.

  When the laundry truck had pulled to a stop, the driver had been amazed to find Maggie and me waiting patiently in the back. I’d patted his shoulder, passed him a twenty dollar bill, and then scooped Maggie up into my arms to walk over to the hotel across the street. It was only two stories and the room was cramped and smelled faintly of cigarettes, but it was all ours. To us, it may as well have been the White Hou
se.

  “What are you thinking about?” Maggie asks sleepily, fingers lazily brushing through my hair. I kiss her right cheek, hands stroking up and down her back as she gives a faint shiver.

  “I’m just imagining us on the beach in a few days, Maggie. We’ll be living right next to it.We’ll be able to take a walk by the ocean every day when I'm done with work. And play in it. And surf, maybe.” I grin at her, squeezing her gently, and she gives a faint giggle.

  “I’ve never seen the beach,” she murmurs dreamily. “I’ve seen pictures. Is the water really the same shade of blue as sapphires?”

  “It is, plus baby blue, and aquamarine, and turquoise, and all kinds of blues,” I murmur, brushing her curls from her eyes.

  She places her hand on my own, lacing her fingers into mine. Gently, she pushes me back on the bed so she can crawl on top of me, her fingers unzipping my pants and tugging them down. I arch my back up so she can free them from my hips.

  Her lips find mine, the tip of her velvet tongue gliding lightly between my lips. I respond, sucking gently on her plump lips, top and bottom, then thrusting my hungry tongue in her mouth. We share a deep, passionate kiss that makes us ache for more. A moan of desire rumbles up in my throat, my cock already swelling just at the thought of having Maggie again.

  I reach up, pushing back my shirt from her shoulders so that her lovely, pale body is fully exposed. She gazes down at me, her brunette curls cascading over her breasts as her hips straddle me. I reach up and run my fingers up and down her body, mapping the swell of her full, ripe breasts before I lean up, eyes still locked on hers, and capture her pink nipple between my lips. She gives a faint whimper of pleasure, her fingers knotting against my scalp as her head falls back and her hair tumbles down her spine.

  My teeth just barely graze the sensitive rosebud trapped in my lips as I grab her hips, maneuvering her pussy over my engorged cock. She tries to ease down on top of it but I make her wait, sucking on one nipple, then the other, nipping and covering them in little bites that make them stand at attention. She moans and writhes, ready for me to pound her hard.

  But I’m not done with teasing her. With one hand I guide my thick cock up and down her slick pussy, while my other hand strokes and swirls around her inner thighs, up into the sensitive creases of her groin and on top of her mound. My fingers thread lightly through the black curls that cover it. The sight and the touch of it—so womanly, so sexual—just makes me harder, if that were possible. Continuing my exploration, I lightly trace her outer lips, now swollen with desire. All this light stroking has totally lit her up, and she moans and sways her hips rhythmically. She wants me bad.

  “Please, Trevor, get inside me,” Maggie pleads, breathlessly. But I just shake my head, grinning.

  As I keep moving my cock up and down the outside of her pussy, the swirling fingers of my other hand travel inside those sweet lips to her clit. I flick it lightly with my finger until it starts to become engorged; her breath has now quickened into shallow pants. But then I vibrate her clit with my finger, first lightly, then increasing the intensity. Now Maggie shrieks with pleasure, her gasps begging me to bring her home … now.

  Only then do I pull her hips down to sit on my swollen cock, filling her with one powerful thrust. She cries out in pleasure and brings her face down to kiss me passionately. Then, effortlessly getting the gist of this position, she sits back and bounces up and down on me while I pump my ass up and down, impaling her on my cock. As the headboard bangs against the wall, the bedsprings squeak rhythmically along with us, accompanying our moans. Maggie shrieks wildly, and my grunts are no less savage.

  “Oh, my sweet baby!” Maggie cries. “I’m going to co—“ Maggie begins as her words dissolve into a feral scream. I come with her and with my loud groan added to the noise, we collapse on the bed, two wild animals, finally at peace. Undoubtedly, the entire hotel came with us, too, judging from the noise we made.

  Sweaty and elated, she holds me in her arms and presses her mouth to my ear.

  “I love you, Trevor,” Maggie murmurs, her voice quivering with ecstasy.

  I gaze at her, cupping her face, overwhelmed by the way she makes my heart soar—she’s enthralled me, heart and soul. She’s all I’ll ever need, all I’ll ever want. Maggie is mine. Forever.

  “I love you, Maggie,” I whisper, overcome with emotion.

  In a few days we’re going to be in a brand new place, starting a brand new life. I’ve never been more excited for a tomorrow, and for the first time ever, I’ve got a purpose: I’m going to make Maggie happy.

  42

  As they sit in her office, Bishop Frederick frowns at Mother Antonia. Meanwhile, the mother superior, who is doing her best impression of Sister Ruth, smiles pleasantly back.

  Inside, however, Mother Antonia is furious. Her blood boils, giving her a cheeks a ruddy flush that the bishop will mistake for humiliation when really it is pure, concentrated rage. Her foot taps the floor not with anxiety, but because she’s doing her best not to charge out of here and start shrieking at each of her young nuns. She desperately needs to figure out exactly what went wrong.

  She can’t believe how things have turned out for her. Everything was going so well until it all fell apart at the end. She’s been going over the events of the last few days again and again, trying to find the one cog of the wheel that came loose, but she hasn’t been able to figure it out.

  It certainly wasn’t her own fault. Mother Antonia is guided by the light of the Lord Himself, and He would never allow her to make a mistake. It wasn’t anything Sister Eva had done either. Mother Antonia was certain she had that groveling girl squarely under thumb, just where she wanted her.

  On the other hand, Sister Catherine almost definitely did have something to do with her plan falling apart, as that was just Catherine’s usual way to interfere … but for everything to have gone so disastrously, was it merely a tragic coincidence?

  Mother Antonia believes in coincidences as much as she believes in unicorns.

  Her eyes dart towards Sister Ruth, who sits at Mother Antonia’s side looking tranquil as a freshwater spring. She nods faintly as Bishop Frederick speaks, her attention rapt. When she senses Mother Antonia’s scornful glare, the elderly sister smiles at her, which only furthers the woman’s internal rage.

  The mother superior had to accept now that there was probably little she would ever be able to do to rid herself of Sister Ruth. Now that Bishop Frederick had come and seen what he had, Mother Antonia would never have the power to get Ruth transferred to another convent, or have her expelled from the sisterhood altogether, unless Ruth suggested it to the bishop, herself.

  That was, perhaps, something Mother Antonia could strategize. She would have to play her cards differently next time, but she wouldn’t lose twice. Not with the Lord on her side.

  “Is there anything else you want to add, Mother Antonia?” Bishop Frederick asks, reaching across the desk to take Mother Antonia’s hand in his and hold it delicately.

  She stares at their hands, somehow restraining herself from jerking away, and keeps that polished and professional mask on her face.

  Men are all the same, she muses, whether they’re of the cloth or not. She almost feels sorry for Margaret, that she will be at the whim of that gardener’s desires, but the mother superior is too furious with the dark-haired former nun to feel pity for her.

  “It was all just a misunderstanding, Your Excellency,” Mother Antonia says calmly.

  Now that she’d had a few minutes to collect herself, she was feeling more confident in her explanation. All she had to do was apologize, and bat her eyelashes, and feign contrition and he would be on his way, while she could return to her duties. After all, her young nuns needed her now more than ever: with the loss of their sister, they might well continue to rebel. Things of this nature, Mother Antonia found, are contagious. An anarchic fire could spread from girl to girl, one that only she can properly snuff out.

  Mother Antoni
a forces herself to give the old man’s hand a squeeze, which he seems to appreciate. “I do apologize greatly for this … er … situation. It’s only because I have such passion for our Lord and Savior that I have acted in this way. All I wanted was to protect young Sister Margaret before she was defiled. I only wish I could have prevented the terrible sins that took place ...” the mother superior, choking up, dabs at her dry eyes.

  Bishop Frederick shifts his gaze from Mother Antonia to Sister Ruth, who is polishing her glasses on her sleeve.

  “Do you know what happened to the young lady and the young man?” he asks.

  Ruth heaves a sigh and nibbles her lower lip. “I'm afraid not. Mother Antonia keeps me rather busy, and I was just trying to get on with my tasks. But I don’t have any reason to believe Margaret is in danger with that boy. You know how young love can be. If Margaret wants to return, we would adore to have her back. Our doors will remain permanently open for her. I'm sure in time she’ll reach out to one of her friends here, and then we’ll have word of how she’s doing.”

  “Of course, Sister Ruth. And regarding your responsibilities, though you are assistant mother superior, it pains me that you have too many obligations; I’m sure they’re too taxing for you. Mother Antonia, you will take back the greater bulk of your duties,” Bishop Frederick declares, pulling his hand away from the mother superior’s.

  “Of course, Your Excellency,” Mother Antonia mutters, bowing her head and internally seething.

  “And the girls are to continue their duties around the convent helping the staff, as well as in the nearby town,” Bishop Frederick continues. “One of the hallmarks of our order is our helpfulness and commitment to our community, and I won’t have you isolate the sisters.”

  “Of course,” Mother Antonia repeats, fingernails digging into her palms.