La Mort et ses Merveilles ✔

24. Web of Lies, Tears of Deceit

La Mort et ses Merveilles

Chapter 24: Web of Lies, Tears of Deceit

The store room at the back of the infirmary was full of junk. Well, junk like life support machines and other things that you needed for a hospice to function. Sure, some of them may still be working, but I doubt we needed all of them. Besides, all the old people were gone. Josephine made clear of that.

Well, she never mentioned it, but I didn't make it clear to her that I knew. I never said anything about it. Maybe she thought Leslie told me. That was probably the case.

I guess she was keeping one or two, just in case. But most injuries we had could just be treated with basic first aid or at the most a cast. We've never had anything dramatic. But I'm pretty sure even in those circumstances, we wouldn't need all those machines. They used a lot of electricity, and that was something we were trying to conserve. Especially for the winter, just in case there wasn't enough firewood.

Besides tons of breathing machines and other apparatus, there was also old office junk, like old photocopying machines. We certainly didn't really need those anymore. I was getting bored looking at all the old junk, seeing that I couldn't do anything with them really. If I had my way I'd thrown them all out. All they were doing was cluttering up space and collecting dust. But Leslie however, seemed to be having a field day.

He had brought his toolbox with him, and was busy tinkering away at one of the old photocopying machines. He really was a natural at this, popping open screws and bolts, just like he was good at popping my zipper.

As I stood there, flashlight in hand, shining the light for Leslie, I couldn't help but think about what I'd just offered him. A shadow of doubt began to creep its way to my heart. Did I really want to do it? Well yeah, eventually I do, but was this the appropriate place? In the middle of the dusty storeroom? Call me sentimental but I'd rather do it in the comfort of our beds, but any nun walking by would most definitely heard the noises we'd make. And judging by the last time I made out with Leslie on the back of his pickup, he was certainly very capable of making some extremely hot, albeit loud, moans.

But then again, to have my first time with him in this dingy, abandoned storeroom. . . It just doesn't feel right. There was absolutely nothing romantic about it at all. Making love in this kind of circumstance isn't love. It's just plain, rough, animalistic sex.

It'd be nice if we could do it on a soft bed, maybe right after a nice dinner. Maybe some wine so it wouldn't hurt as much. There was wine in the cellar, the nuns made their own wines from the grapes we had growing in the yard. Maybe if I could sneak one of those homemade brews up, Leslie and I could share it.

Maybe we'd dim the lights, and he'd hold me in his arms. I'd tell him how much I loved him and he'd tell me the same. I'd hold him in my arms, laying there for a while as he'd whisper how pretty my lashes were, how my freckles drove him wild. I wanted him to tell me how I meant the world to him, before his manly palms start making its way down.

Silly Jason, still clinging on to the sentimentalities of a lost age. People were dying out there, we all had to fight for survival beyond the safe convent walls, yet here I am, worrying about my first time with him. Fantasising about what he'd do to me. Sweet and romantic, just as I liked it.

"You like what you see?" Leslie said, his voice breaking the silence, shaking me out of my thoughts.

I could immediately feel the blood rush to my cheeks. I almost felt like he could see me fantasising about what'd he do to me with those rough, manly palms of his. That was embarrassing, that was embarrassing.