𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡

P A R T 3

The measure of temptation

The morning sun bathed the convent in a soft, golden light as Beyoncé made her way to the fitting room. Today, she was to be measured and fitted for her cloak and traditional clothing, the garments that would mark her as a full-fledged member of St. Therese Convent. Nervous but eager to fully embrace her new life, she pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside.

The room was simple but well-lit, with bolts of fabric neatly arranged on a table and a standing mirror in one corner. The seamstress, Sister Margaret, was already there, preparing her tools. Mother Superior Onika Maraj stood beside her, her presence commanding yet comforting.

"Beyoncé," Onika greeted, her voice warm. "Are you ready for your fitting?"

Beyoncé nodded, offering a shy smile. "Yes, Mother Superior."

"Good," Onika said, her gaze lingering on Beyoncé a moment longer than necessary. "Sister Margaret will guide you through the process. I'll be here to ensure everything goes smoothly."

Beyoncé nodded again, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach. Sister Margaret handed her a sheer, thin white dress that reached her ankles. "Please change into this," she instructed. "It's important for the measurements to be accurate."

Beyoncé took the dress and stepped behind a folding screen to change. The fabric was light and delicate, almost translucent. As she slipped it on, she felt the cool air of the room against her skin, the material clinging to her body. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out from behind the screen.

Onika's eyes widened slightly as she took in the sight of Beyoncé. The young woman's silhouette was clearly visible through the sheer dress, her curves accentuated by the soft fabric. Onika's gaze traveled from Beyoncé's delicate ankles, up the gentle swell of her hips, lingering on the outline of her breasts where her nipples pressed faintly against the thin material.

"Stand here, please," Sister Margaret said, her voice breaking the silence. She gestured to a small platform in the center of the room. Beyoncé obeyed, stepping up and standing still as the seamstress began her work.

Onika tried to focus on the task at hand, but her eyes kept drifting back to Beyoncé. The young novice's beauty was captivating, an innocent allure that seemed almost otherworldly. As Sister Margaret measured Beyoncé's waist, hips, and bust, Onika felt a stirring within her, a pulse of desire that she struggled to suppress.

"Raise your arms, please," Sister Margaret instructed. Beyoncé did as she was told, the movement causing the dress to shift slightly, revealing more of her skin beneath the fabric. Onika's breath caught in her throat, her eyes drawn to the gentle curves and the faint, tantalizing hint of what lay beneath the dress.

Onika clenched her fists, willing herself to look away, to focus on something else. But the temptation was too strong. She felt her faith wavering, the vows she had taken seeming distant and fragile in the face of her growing desire.

As Sister Margaret moved around Beyoncé, taking notes and making small adjustments, Onika's mind raced. She remembered the cigarette in the garden, the book in the basement...moments of weakness that now seemed to converge in this room, with this young woman who stirred something deep within her.

"Almost done," Sister Margaret said, stepping back to assess her work. "Just a few more measurements."

Beyoncé stood quietly, her eyes occasionally meeting Onika's in the mirror. There was a flicker of something there, an unspoken understanding, a shared secret. Beyoncé's thoughts wandered to the strange, electric feelings she had experienced last night, and now, standing so exposed in front of Onika, she felt those feelings return with an intensity that left her breathless.