His Wicked Nun

Red light fell through the windows, spreading across the empty chapel.

I ran my fingers over the wooden beads of the rosary. I did not believe a single word of the prayers I recited. It was only the best way to keep the act going.

Silence. Cold stone walls. A place nobody would think to look for me. Nobody asked why my palms were always cold or why I never met anyone’s eyes when I talked about forgiveness.

Every morning I put on the veil, buttoned the black habit to my throat, and I played the saint. Under the cotton and the prayers, I knew what I was.

I was no servant of God.

I got up from the floor, and not one muscle in my face moved. I did not bow my head the way the sisters had taught me. My shoes struck the sacred stone with each step, and the sound carried through the chapel as I walked toward the altar with no intention of showing respect.

"Our Father, who art in heaven," I said under my breath. "Don’t listen to my thoughts."

The words came out low and rough. My hands left the rosary and slid to my waist... my fingers dug into the wool as I pressed my palms against my hips. Heat rose from my skin under all those layers. Nobody in this building knew what burned beneath the habit they considered holy.

I passed the confessional and dragged my nails across the lattice. The scrape was the only music in the place.

Confession. Forgiveness. Not a chance.

No holy water could wash out what went through my head as my hand moved lower, toward the heat between my thighs. I lifted my chin to the crucifix above the altar.

"If you’re really watching," I said, "then enjoy the show."

Any other nun would have dropped to her knees there, shaking. I leaned my hips against the stone altar, crossed my legs, as I stared up at the cross. My fingers found the hem of my skirt and pulled it up an inch at a time.

"Do you know what I do in your house, Father? I say your name every night, and not once do I say it as a prayer." A laugh left my throat. "They would burn me for what I think while I carry your holy water. The other sisters beg you to save their souls. I beg you to watch me lose mine. My skin doesn’t want forgiveness. It wants punishing, and you have never once come down to do it."

I pulled the bowl closer and dipped two fingers in. I dragged them across my lower lip, then let one drop run down my throat and under the collar until it reached the top of my breasts.

I would not leave this church a saint. I would leave it as the worst sin that ever walked through its doors.

This place had taken me in when every other door was shut. Black wool became my armor, and these walls became the only hiding place I had left. They believed they had saved a broken girl searching for peace. They had let a beast into their holiest room and handed her a veil.

"You gave me shelter," I told the empty chapel, tracing the grain of the altar wood with one fingertip. "I’ll repay you by making this the filthiest place on earth."

The doors creaked open.

I stayed where I was.

Footsteps crossed the stone, too light for the old priest, whose tread dragged along the floor. These belonged to the new priest, who had come to the monastery only weeks ago. He smelled of clean linen. He had the fear of God in his eyes and an innocence nobody had broken yet.

The footsteps stopped a few meters from the altar.

"Sister?" His voice came out low. "Morning service is over. The others are already in the dining hall."

I looked him straight in the face. I felt no shame and had no wish to explain myself. Let him see what a bride of Christ looked like when nobody was supervising her.

"For some of us, Father, the service is only starting," I said, and my voice came out warmer than any nun’s should.

His hand closed around the cross at his neck. His lips parted... nothing came out, because his eyes had gone to the way I stood against the altar.

"The Song of Solomon says, ‘Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for thy love is better than wine.’" I straightened my back and kept my eyes on his. "I want someone who understands those verses. My soul is restless. I need a strong man to guide me. You."

He swallowed. "Sister, you shouldn’t read Scripture that way. Not here."

He took half a step back anyway as I pushed away from the altar toward him.

"Is it a sin to repeat the Word of God?" I tilted my head. "Or only when it comes out of my mouth?"

I reached out, and he stood frozen while my fingertip touched the top button of his cassock, right under the white collar.

"Your heart is pounding for a man who is supposed to be dead to this world."

"You told the congregation on Sunday that temptation is a door we choose to open," I said. "I have been standing at yours for weeks, Father. You have not once asked me to leave."

"Sister. Stop." The plea came out rough, with no authority left. His hands shook at his sides, wanting to push me away and unable to move.

"Then hear my confession." I laid my palm flat on his chest and felt the heat through the fabric. "Here. Now. Save me from my thoughts, Father, before I drag you to hell with me."

He did not step away. That was his mistake.

His pupils widened. His hand left the cross and drifted down the front of his cassock, and his fingers trembled the whole way.

"You’re not normal," he said. His voice cracked on the last word.

"No." I stepped closer until the tip of my veil touched his chin. "You’re crazier for staying to hear it."

I leaned in until my mouth was level with his ear, close enough to feel him go rigid.

"Tell me something, Father. When you kneel at that altar every night, who do you see in front of you? The Virgin? Or a sister on her knees with your hand twisted in her veil?" I let my lips brush his skin on the last word. "Which commandment do you want to break first? Thou shalt not covet? You have been coveting me since the first morning I walked past your pew."

His breath came short and uneven against my cheek.

"Thou shalt not commit adultery," I went on. "But you took a vow, so what are you committing right now, with your cock hard under that cassock while your God watches from the wall? I can feel it, Father. You are not praying. You are begging."

"Sister, please." He said it to the floor. He could not bring himself to say it to me.

"Please what? Please stop, or please keep going? Tell me which one, because I can wait all morning and I don’t think you can." I let my eyes drop to the front of his cassock and lifted them again. "Your body already answered me. Your mouth is the only part of you still lying."

"I can’t," he said. "I took a vow."

"You took a vow to a God who is nailed to a wall and has never touched you once. I am standing right here." I stepped in until his breath hit my face. "Does he know how badly you want to be forgiven for something you haven’t even done yet?"

He made a sound in his throat that was not a word.

I slid my nails down his forearm, and he shuddered. "Say the Lord’s name again. Louder. See who answers."

"Sister..."

"Not that name. Mine. Say it the way you say his when you are alone, when nobody is listening, and you think he will forgive you for it."

"Lord, have mercy," he said through clenched teeth, more to himself than as a prayer.

"He can’t hear you in here." I pulled my hand away from his arm. "In this chapel, day or night, I’m the only one who hears you."

I let the silence stretch until he started to shake. Then I lowered my voice.

"Do you know what would happen if I screamed right now? If I scratched my own neck, tore this collar open, and cried that you tried to turn me into a whore at the altar? Who would they believe? The quiet, humble sister? Or the new priest who reeks of sin the moment he looks at me?"

His eyes shut as the words landed. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"I wouldn’t have to scream, though." I tipped my face up toward his. "Not when I could make you do it for me. One more minute alone with me and you would be on your knees, Father, praying to the wrong one."

He stumbled back. His eyes were wild, and his chest heaved hard enough to shake his shoulders.

I looked at him, though he was taller than me. With a smooth movement, I straightened my veil and put the saint’s mask back on.

"I wish you a pleasant day, Father."