Without You

Dinner

Sometimes the nights weren't the darkest at all. Depending or not by its genuine notion of the darkness, besides its whether palish or vibrant nuances, tinting the nocturnal mirage. The hive of shimmering palish gilt stars swarmed the dark nocturnal sky, outnumbering the sole pale moon that hung over as a disco ball.

The patients were already gathered in their own wards for extra good night sleep, whilst Jude had a rather special occasion or engagement tonight. Her temporal out of charge episode was the sole episode of the day when she isn't ultimately Sister Jude or rather the administrator of Briarcliff by canning patients, ordering the security guards and orderlies to jail the rebellious inmates even being doped with heavy medicaments. Even when she was resting until the next morning as her motionless, leanly curvy body was collecting its nutrients physically and mentally on the compact bed which was the only furniture that gave a break to the pious sister of the church with its lurking shadows, haunting her in the lonely, cold nights which were merely mustering with the time for her. Her eyelids' muscles relaxing by being utterly shut as blinds. Reverie transmitting her in much different realm, fogging her train of thoughts with tantalizing dreams. Dreams, which were rather bizarre or licentious short movies that her mouth salivated, watering the pillow as her petite-frame was donned in her bloody red, paradoxally silken negligee.

As the retrospection's roller coaster keeps on, the special occasion when she could be herself was the weekly coq-au-vin Friday night with her favorite priest.

"Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus." The middle-aged woman recited in a murmur the prayer, whilst her elvish, milky as sheer snow grasped the knife, slicing the onions as its pungent onion reek waffled across her sensitive nose." Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen!" Meanwhile, her tongue crafted the prayer in velvety, low voice that her naturally rosy-coloured, soft as satin lips produced, shutting her eyelids by tilting her head. Her adroit, versatile hand, grasping the knife yet was chopping on small pieces the sliced onion on the wooden chopping board. Jumpcutting to moment when she had a limited time until the dinner was ready and before the aspiring Monsignor's arrival to prepare herself by primping with clothing her figure with her ravishing red satin slip, hugging exquisitely her curves and holding her cologne with its fiendishly alluring fragrance, slowly lifting it up to her nostrils with tightly shut eyes as if she held the pearliest gem. The cologne's tap was off as her sensitive, vulnerable nostrils inhaled inwardly its succumbing fragrance, subsequently besprinkling it on her fingers and daubing its cologne all over her bosom delicately, featherly with her fingers. Picturing impurely promiscuous, explicit images of Timothy caressing and teasing her cleavage with his pristinely long, strong fingers every inch of her exposed pale as ghost, creamy as cashmere flesh. Or rather his nose nuzzling featherly the besprinkled perfume's area, muffling a smug, steamy moan from his pale-pinkish lips and then using his teeth to nibble on the silken skin of her neck, besides peppering it with light kisses until they escalate to awfully ferocious as a wild beast.

Afterwards the blonde approached her compact, convenient bed to snatch her neatly prostrated by dusting it and putting her lean, brittle arms in its itchily wool, rigid sleeves, contacting her skin and then her fingers buttoned its rigid, shapeless ecclesiastical attire up to under her chin.

Once she titivated her own make-up faintly along with the perfume and her dress code, the blonde fled her office by strolling up to the kitchen as her midnight black, classy chunks clicked against the cement, dull floor, producing incessant, aggressive click, amalgamating with its monotonous, lifeless silence that consumed the lobby with exception of handful of passing security guards or orderlies, who're in charge each passing second.