Product Description
Meet Sister Mary Immaculate whose idea of "Community Service" is a little different.
Buy Three stories for the price of 4
SAMPLE
Sister Mary Immaculate wasn’t at all certain that she hadn’t entered the novitiate for the simple expedient of changing her name. Born Marie Claire Murphy - after her mother’s favorite fashion magazine - she had discovered early in life that there was more to being a Murphy than met the eye. It wasn’t until she discovered “Murphy’s Law” that she understood the phrase, “What’s in a name?” Everything in Marie Claire Murphy’s life that could go wrong did go wrong. To her great dismay everything continued to go wrong after she entered the convent and changed her name.
Take Father Gordon, for example. It wasn’t so much that he so often wanted to meet her in the choir’s cloak room at all hours of the night so that she could perform community service for him. She rather enjoyed the community service. It was the things that went wrong during community service that upset her.
Her community service with Father Gordon had started late one Thursday afternoon during confession. Father Gordon was new in the convent, one of two priests who saw to the needs of the sisters. She found him very attractive. He was tall and must once have been an athlete, although now, in what was probably his early 50s, his muscles had mostly turned to fat. He was blond and blue eyed with a parrot beak of a nose and tight, disciplined lips. He radiated a kind of power that declared him a leader in an unspoken way. In her other life Sister Mary Immaculate had been attracted to older men.
Sister Mary Immaculate knew she wasn't supposed to notice how handsome Father Gordon was, but for some reason her eyes seemed to find him whenever he came into the room. She wondered if she should confess to the attraction during her weekly confession. The idea made her nervous and she entered the confessional with a feeling of discomfort.
“Forgive me father for I have sinned,” she had said, searching her mind for anything she could report that might be considered a transgression - except of course for the burning attraction to Father Gordon that filled the few idle minutes she was allowed during the day.
As she listened to the traditional response from the other side of the screen, it occurred to her that hearing the confessions of the convent must be extremely boring for the Fathers. A faint wish to have something really interesting to confess traveled through her mind in a flash. She went through sneaking an extra helping of cake at dinner, being three minutes late for choral practice, all the way up to having impure dreams.
“Tell me about your dreams,” said the disembodied voice from the indistinct shadow. She jumped and felt her body grow hot from head to foot. She had instantly recognized the priest as Father Gordon. He had a thin, reedy tenor that completely lacked the warm base vibrations of Father Ignacius. It was his only unattractive quality. Father Gordon didn’t conduct the services unless Father Ignatius was sick because his voice sounded so much like fingernails on a blackboard. The congregation had requested that he refrain from conducting public functions. It was difficult for him because he loved being in the front of the church - loved to chant the liturgy, but since his chanting could empty a room in under a minute, the church had felt there were better ways to use his talents.
“I dreamed about having sex on the altar,” she replied in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
“Sex?” Father Gordon asked with a catch in his throat. She heard the creak of wood, as if he was sitting forward, the better to hear her. "What kind of sex."
Buy Three stories for the price of 4
SAMPLE
Sister Mary Immaculate wasn’t at all certain that she hadn’t entered the novitiate for the simple expedient of changing her name. Born Marie Claire Murphy - after her mother’s favorite fashion magazine - she had discovered early in life that there was more to being a Murphy than met the eye. It wasn’t until she discovered “Murphy’s Law” that she understood the phrase, “What’s in a name?” Everything in Marie Claire Murphy’s life that could go wrong did go wrong. To her great dismay everything continued to go wrong after she entered the convent and changed her name.
Take Father Gordon, for example. It wasn’t so much that he so often wanted to meet her in the choir’s cloak room at all hours of the night so that she could perform community service for him. She rather enjoyed the community service. It was the things that went wrong during community service that upset her.
Her community service with Father Gordon had started late one Thursday afternoon during confession. Father Gordon was new in the convent, one of two priests who saw to the needs of the sisters. She found him very attractive. He was tall and must once have been an athlete, although now, in what was probably his early 50s, his muscles had mostly turned to fat. He was blond and blue eyed with a parrot beak of a nose and tight, disciplined lips. He radiated a kind of power that declared him a leader in an unspoken way. In her other life Sister Mary Immaculate had been attracted to older men.
Sister Mary Immaculate knew she wasn't supposed to notice how handsome Father Gordon was, but for some reason her eyes seemed to find him whenever he came into the room. She wondered if she should confess to the attraction during her weekly confession. The idea made her nervous and she entered the confessional with a feeling of discomfort.
“Forgive me father for I have sinned,” she had said, searching her mind for anything she could report that might be considered a transgression - except of course for the burning attraction to Father Gordon that filled the few idle minutes she was allowed during the day.
As she listened to the traditional response from the other side of the screen, it occurred to her that hearing the confessions of the convent must be extremely boring for the Fathers. A faint wish to have something really interesting to confess traveled through her mind in a flash. She went through sneaking an extra helping of cake at dinner, being three minutes late for choral practice, all the way up to having impure dreams.
“Tell me about your dreams,” said the disembodied voice from the indistinct shadow. She jumped and felt her body grow hot from head to foot. She had instantly recognized the priest as Father Gordon. He had a thin, reedy tenor that completely lacked the warm base vibrations of Father Ignacius. It was his only unattractive quality. Father Gordon didn’t conduct the services unless Father Ignatius was sick because his voice sounded so much like fingernails on a blackboard. The congregation had requested that he refrain from conducting public functions. It was difficult for him because he loved being in the front of the church - loved to chant the liturgy, but since his chanting could empty a room in under a minute, the church had felt there were better ways to use his talents.
“I dreamed about having sex on the altar,” she replied in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
“Sex?” Father Gordon asked with a catch in his throat. She heard the creak of wood, as if he was sitting forward, the better to hear her. "What kind of sex."
