Seperated in Pittsburgh

Revelations

--- Later That Day ---

As the nun put down to sleep the girls, distributing them by their age in the room and having a frugal dinner, shortly after she recited the night prayer and crawling in the bed after stripping each ecclesiastical attire as it peeled off her creamy, milky as vanilla skin as snake. Leaving her almost stark as a newborn, dressed up in her sinful bloody red negligee. The bloody red satin negligee as a piece of garment which she deemed as a remarkable, memorable fragment of her past, incarnating her past life as a mere, unholy and depended on the fiery impulses woman. Not as a saint.

As soon as she allowed her muscles relax by fluttering shut her eyelids, Timothy's words as imprinted memories, echoed inwardly, giving her hopes for the imminent day especially their first real date even if it was against the church. Against took solemn vows. Against God. Against anything sacred. Against her career.

Her shut eyelids as shells tinted more vibrant tinges as if she beheld the scintillating frame of Timothy hours ago, reuniting together as he wore the same clerical garments, considering him the same holy man. In her eyes, he's going to be always the same man, whom she yearned for ages, despite the solemnly took vows and most of all, devoting himself to the church and its holy duties, including every inch of his is already God's possession.

The scarcely kipping blonde could hear yet her love interest's inner voices, whispering in the limbo as the velvety, British accent gapped the silence and sending chills all over her already relaxed muscles, incapable of letting her calf quiver at the thought of his invitation on the first date.

What the heck crossed his mind to invite a nun on a date? Even more, if that's his purpose, hence, he left the church and Briarcliff and to break me some news? Did he truly miss me?

By judging the ocean of questions, engulfing them in the profound hole, still seeking answers, throughout she found the answer of the final question.

By the way he behaved and his words sounded, subsequently the middle-aged woman could tell the younger man alluded she wasn't being forgotten by him and at last but not least, the incessant thought of her, corrupting his cells with brooding over his rara avis's absence, which was the crucial reason why his smile froze.

Little did the holy woman know what kind of surprises are awaiting her on the private cafeteria's date, besides at the thought of the first date especially being an emphatic idea of the former man of the cloth, who couldn't be seen in another light than just as the compassionate, pious priest, pursuing his celestial, golden, blinding dreams. Celestial dreams which fewer people might follow them to the end and being appointed as a Cardinal, afterwards Pope and set a foot on the aisle in Rome, was nothing than just unthinkable reality, or rather only in her dreams. The sacred territory of his exalted reputation, where he's lastly being encompassed by swarm of nuns and priests, bowing before him and addressing him in revered manner, expressing their immense respect for him.

In addition to, the nun had an old, lacquered from a handful of years ago wardrobe as its double doors were opened, storing up the hanging variety of garments which were either brought with her and she possessed them, or on the contrary, the church has ensured her since the middle-aged lady gave up the mere life, consequently limiting herself and escaping the cruel reality of the heartbreaks, lust, love, sex, marriage, lovers, alcohol and everything sinful and ordinary. Marrying herself reckoning her body to God and his mammoth, hallowed hands, encircling each once touched, rubbed slim, perfectly shaped in swam shape curve of her petite figure.

The garments were a pair of sheerly angelic, white, cotton night gown, ankle length, mingling with one more rigid, shapeless, wool dark habit until two casual in black and deep green dresses, numbering the last one the ravishing red one in the right side variated as colors from the rainbow, contrasting each other due to the image and impression they were giving as soon as they cohering certain inches of the milky flesh.