I was hanging around waiting on my car being serviced. It was a nice day, so I was sitting in the market square, listening to a busker, and eating a couple of samosas from an Indian food stall on the market.

As I was finishing my samosas a pair of young women approached me, “excuse me, I really like your t-shirt, are you from Manchester?” the one on the right asked.

I’ll pause a moment and mention a couple of things, I’m middle-aged and young, pretty women approaching me is not a regular occurrence. My t-shirt says “Made in Manchester” on it, which is true.

I looked up to see a couple of very pretty women, early 20’s I think, my first guess is they’re students from the university, whilst it’s summer and the University is closed, many of the students like the area so much they stay around to work, the city is just south of the Lake District, so the tourist industry in the area is busy during the short summer months.

Then I saw the black name badges and my heart sank.

Mormons!

Still, they were very pretty, and I had nothing to do for a while, so what’s the harm in chatting, and did I mention just how gorgeous the blonde one on the right, Sister Maria, was? Sister Bloom on the left, a brunette, was a showstopper as well.

Decision made, I smiled warmly and replied, “yes, I’m from Manchester originally.”

“You live here now, though?” Sister Bloom asked.

“I’ve been here for about 10 years, I moved away from Manchester to clear my head after a relationship broke down.”

“Ahh, that’s so sad,” Sister Maria replied, genuine sympathy in her voice, as she sat beside me on the bench, Sister Bloom sat on my other side, “my name is Sister Maria, and this is Sister Bloom, she went to Manchester University.”

I’ve encountered Mormons a few times before, luckily they never come to my house as I live out in the countryside with no close neighbours, whenever they approach and start a conversation they’re always so relentlessly polite and warm, it’s almost impossible to tell them to fuck off, at least I’ve never had the heart to tell one to go away.

Today though, as my chat with Sisters Maria and Bloom progressed, I found I didn’t want them to go away, against all my better judgement, I wanted to talk to them, and not just because they were pretty, they seemed to have a genuine interest in what I was saying.

“Hi, I’m Michael, if you were at Manchester University you possibly lived close to where I used to live, I had a flat on Denmark Road before I was married.”

“Ahh, I was in Weston Hall, on Sackville Street, I studied textiles in the Sackville Street Building.”

“Ahh, now that’s a great building. I’ve heard the University is trying to sell it, I hope they change their mind. Where did you study, Sister Maria?”

“I studied law at Brigham Young University.”

“I thought I spotted a bit of an American tinge to your accent, you’re not from the US though, I don’t think.”

“No, I was born in Derbyshire.”

“What made you want to study at Brigham Young, apart from the Church affiliation.”

“It was the Church, my father is an Elder.”

“So you studied law, why didn’t you go into law?”

“I might still do that, but for now my calling is to follow Jesus Christ, and to bring the beauty of his teachings to others.”

We chatted for a while, I tried to steer the conversation away from religion, it didn’t work.

“So, you’d been married for 15 years when she left you, that must have been such a shock, no wonder you wanted a fresh start,” Sister Bloom offered, placing a hand gently on my knee.

“Did you seek help from God when you were healing?” Sister Maria asked, patting my other knee gently.

Strangely, their touch didn’t feel at all sexual, they were comforting, not arousing.

“No, I didn’t. I was religious when I was younger, but I found as I became involved in church activities, and the many committees that run the church, most of the people I met at church were not good people. They were rude about fellow churchgoers, very bitchy at times, and many of them were having affairs. When I moved away from home after I married, I decided not to join a new church in my new town.”

“That’s such a shame,” Sister Maria replied, again with the genuine sympathy in her voice, “but that’s not typical of all churches, if you truly let God into your life your burdens will be lifted.”

“Yeah, but I found that living on my own out in the country. I found peace amongst the trees.”

“All that you experience is God’s work.”

“Opinions differ on that, but you can choose to believe it if it makes you feel better,” I replied.

“What do you do, Michael?”

“I’m a writer, children’s books mainly, I also write a column for a Sunday newspaper, and I play guitar.”

“Really, might I have read any of your books?” Sister Maria asked, her hand straying north, moving slightly from the comforting area to the arousing area.

“Probably, I wrote the Milly and Paul series that are used in a lot of primary schools.”

“Really? I loved those books, did you do the drawings?”

“I’m afraid not, I drew rough ideas and the publisher found someone who could actually draw to illustrate the books, a lady called Peggy Watts.”

“Ahh yes, I remember that name. Did you read the Milly books at school Shelly?” Maria asked Sister Bloom, this made me wonder why she has her surname on her badge, but Maria has her Christian name.

“No, we read the Jungle Stories series, I liked the animals in those books, then we had the Peter and Mary books. I could never work out if Peter and Mary were brother and sister or boyfriend and girlfriend, and maybe I shouldn’t have been thinking like that when I was five,” she giggled, it was a nice sound, totally unselfconscious.

“Where Milly and Paul more than just friends,” Sister Maria asked, moving her hand ever so slightly, her little finger finding the spot she was looking for, and I tried desperately not to react as she brushed the very tip of my cock.

“They were brother and sister, originally they were a regular family, but at my publisher’s suggestion Milly became Paul’s step-sister, which is why she’s coloured, and Paul is Caucasian.”

“Ahh yes, I forgot that, did we meet their parents in the books?”

“It’s a while since I’ve read through them, I’ve got them all at home, I should refresh my memory.”

“Maybe you could write some more,” Sister Bloom suggested.

My phone rang, saving me answering that question, both ladies removed their hands so I could both grab my phone from my pocket, and relax.

“Well, that’s my car ready,” I told them cheerily as I slipped my phone back in my jeans pocket.

“Does that mean you’re going?” Sister Bloom asked.

“We’ve really enjoyed talking to you,” Sister Maria added, taking hold of my hand, “can we walk with you to collect your car?”

It took me all of a millisecond to decide that I wanted to spend more time with the girls, so I agreed they could walk with me to the garage, which was about 15 minutes away.

Sister Maria kept hold of my right hand as we walked, Sister Bloom walked on my left. I know these girls were strangers 30 minutes ago, but I felt so comfortable chatting as we walked. Also, which straight male wouldn’t want to be seen with two beauties like these?

“What’s your newspaper column about?” Sister Bloom asked as we turned off the pedestrianised street and onto the main road out of town, up past the railway station.

“Anything that’s caught my eye in the news that week, I write it on Friday afternoon and base it on anything that’s interesting. Last week was about overturning Roe Vs Wade in the US.”

“Ahh, officially we’re not supposed to talk about that,” she replied.

“So, we won’t discuss it, the week before was about my favourite music venues.”

“What’s your favourite venue,” Sister Maria asked brightly, “I love music and I love dancing.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to dance,” I asked.

“Well, there’s a lot we’re not supposed to do, but rules are supposed to be bent every so often or we’d go mad, wouldn’t we Shelly.”

“Oh yes, there’s a rule I like to break as often as I can.”

“Interesting,” I mused, “and can you tell me what that rule is?”

“Maybe later,” Sister Maria replied quickly, “tell me about your favourite music venue.”

“The Albert Hall in Manchester, it used to be a Wesleyan chapel, the stage is the podium where the ministers sat, the organ pipes are still visible behind the stage. There’s stained glass panels in the roof, it’s a beautiful venue and the acoustics are great, especially if you’re sitting upstairs.”

“Oh my, that sounds amazing, who did you see there?”

“Most recently, an American band called Modest Mouse.”

“I’ve heard of them!” Sister Maria cried, “I saw them play when I was in America. Not really my thing, but my friends wanted to go, I really enjoyed it. We had to sneak back because the house we lived in was very strict, we had a 10pm curfew.”

“And no boys in your room I suppose,” I laughed.

“Definitely no boys,” she replied, squeezing my hand as she spoke.

We’d reached the garage, I saw Sister Maria give Sister Bloom a look as I tried to break free and collect my car.

Sister Bloom took hold of my other hand, “I’d like to see your books, you know, the Milly and Paul ones, would it be possible one day?”

“Oh yes, I’d like to have another look at them, to see the pictures again, I remember Milly always had a red dress.”

Either that’s a lucky guess or Sister Maria really had read the books in primary school.

I considered my options for another millisecond and decided it would be OK to take these girls home. I was enjoying our chat, and it would be nice to have someone else in the house for once.

“I’m not doing anything this afternoon if you want to come round.”

“Yes please,” they replied in unison.

“OK, wait here while I collect the car, you don’t want to be going inside in those nice white sweaters.”

Five minutes later I pulled up beside the girls, Sister Maria flipped the passenger seat down and let Sister Bloom climb into the back, then she dropped the seat and sat beside me.

“A Bentley, very nice,” Sister Maria said as she settled into the chair and fastened her seatbelt.

“My one luxury, I travel a lot, for business, and I like to be comfortable while I’m sitting on the motorway.”

“My uncle had a Rolls Royce,” Sister Bloom offered from the back seat, “it was an old one and the seats weren’t as nice as these.”

“Also, we don’t like to say where your uncle got the money to buy the Rolls Royce, do we,” Sister Maria replied, smiling.

I looked in the mirror and Sister Bloom was blushing.

“He’s a pimp,” Sister Maria whispered conspiratorially, “Shelly’s mum has disowned him,” she continued in a normal voice, “but we still speak to him, because, you know, that’s what Jesus would do, he was about forgiveness, not casting out sinners.”

“He’s a lot of fun, actually,” Sister Bloom added, “and we’ve spoken to his girls and he treats them all well, they’re not allowed to do drugs, they have to use condoms every time, and no rough stuff allowed. We approve, don’t we Maria.”

“We do, but only in private, we’ve never mentioned it to anyone at the chapel, and we never will, because, well, they won’t understand.”

“There’s a lot they don’t understand,” Sister Bloom continued, “they don’t understand that not everyone finds happiness the same way.”

“Are you happy?” Sister Maria asked as she put her hand back on my thigh.

“Right at this moment, or generally?”

“Both.”

“Well, in general, yes, I’m happy, I like my life just the way it is.”

“And right now?”

“Extremely happy.”

“Why are you extremely happy, Michael?”

“I’m driving around with two beautiful girls in the car, why wouldn’t I be happy? I’ve really enjoyed our chat today, I’d like you to join me for dinner, are you allowed to drink, I’ve got a case of very nice Argentinian merlot.”

“We’re allowed to drink, aren’t we Shelly.”

“Oh my, I’m so glad we are.”

“Where do you both live? Do you have to be home for a certain time?”

“We live here, in Lancaster. As missionaries we board in the mission house near the chapel.”

“Do you have a curfew?”

“Why, are you going to kidnap us, Michael, because frankly that sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Well, no, but if you stop for dinner and a glass or two of wine I’ll have to arrange for you to get a taxi back.”

“We’re big girls Michael, I think we’ll decide what to do after we’ve had a glass of wine,” Sister Maria replied.

“Oh yes, I think we’ll decide just how today ends,” Sister Bloom added, “and I’m pretty sure you’ll stay extremely happy.”

Sister Maria resumed stroking my thigh, and I did my best to steer the big car through traffic without incident.

“Ahh, I see what you mean about no neighbours,” Sister Maria observed as I parked beside the house.

It was once a farmhouse, but the farmer had sold almost all his land to a large commercial farm based about a mile up the road. I bought the house off him along with about an acre of garden which I’ve allowed to mostly run wild to attract birds, butterflies, bees and other wildlife.

I have a small vegetable plot that gives me a few potatoes and carrots and not a lot else, but I don’t have the garden for produce, I have it as somewhere I can sit out most of the year and think, when it’s too sunny I have trees for shade, when it’s too wet I have a small outhouse for shelter, and when it’s cold I have warm coats.

“Oh man, I love this garden,” Sister Maria cried, almost jumping for joy as she wandered through the tall grasses and flowers, “look at the butterflies, Shelly, this is amazing.”

I unlocked the backdoor as they explored my garden. In the kitchen I pulled a couple of bottles from the wine rack and three glasses from the cupboard, amazed I had three matching glasses. I pulled the cork on the first bottle and took it and glasses outside.

Sister Maria was about to sit down when I stopped her, “let me get some cushions, you’ll get your sweater dirty.”

“No need, I’ll take it off,” she replied, “and it’s about time you dropped the Sister, I’m Maria, she’s Shelly.”

“OK,” I replied, a lump in my throat as they both slipped out of their sweaters revealing very shapely bodies.

“Right, we’re off duty now, Shelly, and there’s no-one for miles around, let’s enjoy ourselves.”

Shelly stepped very close to Maria, they embraced, bringing their lips together they kissed passionately for a long time.

Maria was panting as they parted, “we’re not supposed to do that, but it’s so much fun I’d hate to have to stop.”

“I could never stop, you’re addictive,” Shelly replied.

“There’s something else we shouldn’t do, but we’ll do that later, I’m looking forward to this wine.”

They brought their seats in close, their knees were touching mine as I tried my best to pour the wine without spilling any.

“To being happy,” Maria toasted before tasting her wine, “mmm, this is nice wine.”

Shelly took a sip from her glass, “I’m not really a fan of red wine, but this is nice, I think I could get used to it, especially when drinking it in this garden.”

“Do you like my bra?” Maria asked out of the blue while we enjoyed our second glass.

“It’s very nice.”

“We bought these in London, Shelly has much nicer boobs than mine, but in this bra you wouldn’t know.”

“Your sweaters disguised you both very well.”

“That’s the point, we’re not supposed to look sexy. Pretty yes, and the boys are meant to look handsome, but not sexy.”

“I can confirm you are both very pretty.”

“Err, before we get too tipsy,” Shelly started, “I really would like to see your books.”

I was flattered, I’d assumed this was all a ruse, but they really were interested in my work.

The followed me through the kitchen and upstairs to my reading room. This is my favourite part of the house. I’d lined two walls with floor to ceiling bookshelves that are stuffed with books, old ones, new ones, fiction, non-fiction, covering every genre from Young Adult to crime, horror and sci-fi.

The outside wall was dominated by a huge sliding window that leads to a small terrace above the kitchen. Either side of the windows are a pair of Bowers & Wilkins 801 D4 speakers connected to a HiFi sitting on a very sturdy oak record rack along the right-hand wall.