Chapter 3

The moment she stepped off the bus, Sister Angela felt like she was in another world and that the Main Street stretched out in front of her was in a certain way like the driveway to an imagined heavenly reward.

The burly bus driver handed her his card and she saw that he had written his telephone number on the backside with the nickname of “Blackie” right above it. Since his last name was Horace Black, she assumed it was logical and not some sort of disparagement of his moral character. Angela was forced to blush because she knew he had correctly suspected her carnal faults under the blanket with her new friend, the rodeo rider with impressive below the belt credentials.

The man was most probably married with children, but she accepted the reality of his attraction for her physical charm with a sense of futile surrender to the mysterious working of fate in a world of constant struggle for finding “the high ground” in matters of carnal pursuits. Her greatest concern was her ingrained need for proper contrition and penance for her unwanted addiction to the way of the flesh. Sometimes, she felt that her sins were committed merely to taste the punishment of retribution for the greater good of her own brand of redemption.

Horace smiled at the pretty young woman and Sister Angela knew he had no inkling of her vows of chastity and commitment to the service of the Lord. She was intelligent enough to understand that the conflict inside her was reflected all around her by other “normal” people constantly striving to be “good” but often falling off the merry-go-round of righteous behavior. Her addiction to the habit-forming “tingle” that rocked her petite body with wet and glorious shudders of delight had her in its grasp of gentle passion and she was not inclined to foreswear the benefits of hidden weakness of the flesh. Her intentions were sincere but she knew that her free will was a fickle companion and she would continue to fall away from the path to proper conduct when temptation drew her down back into the muck of dirty satisfaction.

She could picture “Blackie” at home with his overweight spouse and his noisy children dreaming fantasies of lowering her panties and bending her over until her palms rested on the top of her high-heeled shoes. The certainty of his impalement from behind was fresh in her thoughts as she made her way to the nearby taxi to make her way to the church and the reception hall where the three new recruits and their families waited for her arrival. Angela could see the truth of her own lust reflected in his ogling eyes and she would have forced some sort of temporary coupling experiment if she was not in a hurry to meet the obligations of her appointment to represent the convent in successful completion of the recruitment agenda.

The three young girls had dossiers in Sister Angela’s huge black bag of unknown contents. She knew them all by heart now and was certain that all three of the young novitiates would be fine additions to the order providing they were able to drive the need for male pleasures from their thirsting minds directed to the service of God.

The youngest was Misty Piper, a tall girl with long legs and a pony-tail that stuck up high in the air with an impudence that radiated the sassy attitude of her complex personality. She was most certainly not a virgin and had more experience with men than the other two prospects combined.

Young Miss Misty had a number of juicy items in her background that filled Angela with a desire to meet her and discover for herself if the young lady was as bad as she managed to convince those around her with the sinful facets of her innermost thoughts. Angela found it difficult to believe that someone so young could be so lacking in character. Her finishing school mentor had admitted the girl was addicted to anal pursuits totally unladylike for such a beautiful and promising young lady. That fact along with numerous reports of oral activities that involved both muscular football players and married male teachers with little kiddies at home was enough to make her vocation dubious in the eyes of the order hierarchy. Angela was instructed to sort it all out before allowing her recruitment to progress without impediment.

She handed the directions to the taxi driver and he looked at the slip of paper with an air of disapproval, but unable to voice any objection because his English was virtually non-existent and he had been to the neighborhood of the church on several different occasions. Sister Angela carried her own bags to the trunk and he used the remote control to pop the lid without even offering to assist her at all.

Angela saw the bearded man looking at her in the rear view mirror ogling her raised knees like a thirsty camel in the middle of a desert. She tried her best to keep her knees together because her skirt was so short; he probably had a bird’s eye view at her French red silk undies. She loved wearing them because they made her feel so naughty but she didn’t really want to share her sinful reflections with complete strangers.

Her backside was so low due to the design of the seat and her knees so high that her reluctance to display her private regions was easily defeated at the very first turn. His smile at her unwanted surrender annoyed her, but she knew he probably played that game with every skirt-wearing female passenger in the back seat. Eventually, she just allowed her knees to go where gravity directed them and ignored the fact that the driver was fully informed about the geography of her private regions as displayed under the thin fabric of the silk undies. In a way, she was somewhat aroused by the short ride knowing the man was most likely busy with the hand not on the wheel of the taxi, but she felt a bit helpless to do anything about it. That sense of inevitability stoked the fires of her passion and she hoped the red silk panties did not reveal the sin of her wetness right in the center of her femininity and give him the satisfaction of knowing she was a nasty girl.

Just like the bus driver, the taxi driver handed her his card and he had the rudeness of character to wink and lick his bearded lips like he was offering her some shameful oral promise. Still, she gave him a good tip because it was the accepted conduct in such situations despite his unprofessional attitude in helping her with her bags.