twitched. She fingered her way through the silky thatch, and Sister Mary jerked. Finally, she thrust her tongue into the fragrant wilderness, and Sister Mary sighed and went still.
She tasted sweet-salty, and as Jaq licked, Sister Mary began to undulate, moving in rhythm with her tongue. She lapped up and down the sides of the hard knot beneath her tongue, then drew it into her mouth, sucking and biting it gently.
Sister Mary writhed and began to pant, and Jaq clung to her for a blissful eternity as Sister Mary wriggled beneath her. Suddenly, with one last upward thrust, Sister Mary shuddered and lay motionless.
Sister Maryâs salty essence coated her face, and she felt content. She had apparently pleased her favorite person in the world.
But Sister Mary had jumped up, almost tossing her to the floor. Without a word, she jerked her habit on. Her hands shook as she helped Jaq button her crumpled blouse then shoved her from the room.
The next day at her private voice lesson, Sister Mary Therese had made it clear Jaq would never visit her again. Sheâd refused to touch her, even when they were alone. And during their final lessons Sister Mary had never looked at her. Worst of all, she wouldnât talk to Jaq except when necessary.
Fortunately, she graduated soon. All that summer, sheâd dreamed about taking lessons from Sister Mary again. She walked by the school hoping to see herâeven from across the campus. Most of all, she wanted to share Sister Maryâs bed.
That fall her older sister asked her to live with her in London, and sheâd welcomed the chance to be away from Mother and Sister Mary.
While visiting her aunts in Washington and New York, and then abroad, sheâd weaned herself from her total obsession with Sister Mary. She made herself forget her curlsâ¦her breastsâ¦her taste, but the memories still intruded at the most unlikely times. They demanded her attention and drained her. Why couldnât she erase the recollections, rip them from her mind?
Damn it. Sheâd thought Willie had finally sated her longing for Sister Mary, but here it was again, making her twinge.
Chapter Nine
The preacher had polished off most of the chicken and dressing, and Mrs. Russell was resting on the front porch with the men. She hoped he wouldnât stay more than an hour or so because she needed to put on her old shoes and walk the place, like she did every Sunday. She had to decide what James needed to plow and plant this spring. If she didnât write out the weekly schedule, heâd fool around and forget to do something important. He never had got the hang of planning.
She spit off the side of the porch then wiped her mouth with a blue bandanna. Snuff calmed her down and gave her a lift at the same time.
Her front yard looked mighty fine. She swept it every day with a brush broom and pulled any sprig of grass or weed that dared stick its head up. Sheâd built her prized flower bed full of daffodils and jonquils out of an old wagon wheel. Had to keep the place looking good so the neighbors wouldnât talk. Her kids and grandkids used to climb the fence and splinter the railings, so sheâd whittled the sharp pickets herself. She could see for miles, but her fence kept stray dogs and strangers out. Everybody admired her big house up on this hill.
She pulled a tin canister from her pocket, pinched out another dip of snuff, and spread it under her lower lip with an elm twig. Then she chewed the stick to keep it nice and soft.
Staring up at the big lazy clouds, she sighed. It sure was good to be here, safe in her white wooden house that James built from the ground up eighteen years ago. When heâd finished, he hung his carpenterâs apron on a nail in the attic and wouldnât even hammer together a chicken coop now. Musta been a heap of work.
Compared to the log cabin she and Calvin built when they got here from Georgia, this was a mansion. To think sheâd
She tasted sweet-salty, and as Jaq licked, Sister Mary began to undulate, moving in rhythm with her tongue. She lapped up and down the sides of the hard knot beneath her tongue, then drew it into her mouth, sucking and biting it gently.
Sister Mary writhed and began to pant, and Jaq clung to her for a blissful eternity as Sister Mary wriggled beneath her. Suddenly, with one last upward thrust, Sister Mary shuddered and lay motionless.
Sister Maryâs salty essence coated her face, and she felt content. She had apparently pleased her favorite person in the world.
But Sister Mary had jumped up, almost tossing her to the floor. Without a word, she jerked her habit on. Her hands shook as she helped Jaq button her crumpled blouse then shoved her from the room.
The next day at her private voice lesson, Sister Mary Therese had made it clear Jaq would never visit her again. Sheâd refused to touch her, even when they were alone. And during their final lessons Sister Mary had never looked at her. Worst of all, she wouldnât talk to Jaq except when necessary.
Fortunately, she graduated soon. All that summer, sheâd dreamed about taking lessons from Sister Mary again. She walked by the school hoping to see herâeven from across the campus. Most of all, she wanted to share Sister Maryâs bed.
That fall her older sister asked her to live with her in London, and sheâd welcomed the chance to be away from Mother and Sister Mary.
While visiting her aunts in Washington and New York, and then abroad, sheâd weaned herself from her total obsession with Sister Mary. She made herself forget her curlsâ¦her breastsâ¦her taste, but the memories still intruded at the most unlikely times. They demanded her attention and drained her. Why couldnât she erase the recollections, rip them from her mind?
Damn it. Sheâd thought Willie had finally sated her longing for Sister Mary, but here it was again, making her twinge.
Chapter Nine
The preacher had polished off most of the chicken and dressing, and Mrs. Russell was resting on the front porch with the men. She hoped he wouldnât stay more than an hour or so because she needed to put on her old shoes and walk the place, like she did every Sunday. She had to decide what James needed to plow and plant this spring. If she didnât write out the weekly schedule, heâd fool around and forget to do something important. He never had got the hang of planning.
She spit off the side of the porch then wiped her mouth with a blue bandanna. Snuff calmed her down and gave her a lift at the same time.
Her front yard looked mighty fine. She swept it every day with a brush broom and pulled any sprig of grass or weed that dared stick its head up. Sheâd built her prized flower bed full of daffodils and jonquils out of an old wagon wheel. Had to keep the place looking good so the neighbors wouldnât talk. Her kids and grandkids used to climb the fence and splinter the railings, so sheâd whittled the sharp pickets herself. She could see for miles, but her fence kept stray dogs and strangers out. Everybody admired her big house up on this hill.
She pulled a tin canister from her pocket, pinched out another dip of snuff, and spread it under her lower lip with an elm twig. Then she chewed the stick to keep it nice and soft.
Staring up at the big lazy clouds, she sighed. It sure was good to be here, safe in her white wooden house that James built from the ground up eighteen years ago. When heâd finished, he hung his carpenterâs apron on a nail in the attic and wouldnât even hammer together a chicken coop now. Musta been a heap of work.
Compared to the log cabin she and Calvin built when they got here from Georgia, this was a mansion. To think sheâd
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