The Day I Met You

Lust for Life

Author's Note: This chapter is going to be final as a cherry of the cake with Lana Del Rey's song Lust for Life, subsequently naming it after this chapter. I'd like to apologize if this short story is indeed sloppy, nonetheless bear with me with pouring my entire imagination in the beginning of Nunsignor's saga how they've actually met. 

Is this actually the final fragment of the saga that has a beginning? Is that actually from where everything begins? 

Anyway happy reading! :))

--- *** ---

--- A Few Years Later or So ---

--- 13th of March, 1962 ---

It has been a couple of years since Jude and Timothy have met as their professional, platonic relationship drastically grew into friendship by having coq-au-vin dinners once a week and collaborating altogether in their hallowed missions.

Today was the day when the British aristocrat, himself has determined to purchase the tuberculosis ward by turning it in a mental hospital for criminally insane by having meeting in face-to-face the doctor of science Dr. Arden. Shortly after the doctor of science and the pious member of the clergy had a grave, professional conversation, consequently asking urgently the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer to pay a visit to his office.

During the days, turning into weeks, throughout months and years of partnership, the both pious members of the clergy especially Jude have developed unspeakably intensifying feelings for the holy priest, having impure thoughts of him due to his enticing charisma and inescapable youthful grace, contouring yet his charming facial features with its photogenic, natural brush. Impure thoughts as jumpcut of their erotical reverie, where they're protagonists and the former promiscuous nightclub singer was donned in nothing else than her rubicund satin nightie, hugging exquisitely her slender curves, defined beneath the nightie. Donned in something different and unholy. Donned in the shed snake skin satin armor of the Succubus and its true color of Judy Martin, incarnating her true nature. The ravishing red. The color of the woman, masked with masks of the former protagonist she used to be or rather when she was out of her habit, disguising herself as the mere herself and the religious sister of the church. Her long aureate mop of glossy old Hollywood curls pilling up on her shoulders, framing ideally her sheerly angelic, elderly ageless complexion with its gorgeous facial features. Her sheerly angelic, elderly ageless complexion which had the most fiendish honey brown pools, fueled with pure desire, love, passion and warmness, dappling its deep, hazy pools with the bright pigments of the sin and unholy. The Succubus with the milky as oyster, creamy as silk skin tone, the golden hair and bloody red lacy negligee was Jude. The succubus, longing for the ambitious Monsignor's waist with knotted lean, still drop-dead gorgeous legs circa it. Their muscles grinding and rotating, whereas muffled breathless moans and groans in pleasure dripped as gore from their soft lips, pressed on each other in nirvanic, sultry kisses. Their flimsy hearts throbbed vehemently into their chests. Their soft, mossy skins contacting.

The diabolically impure thoughts were the forbidden fruit in Jude and Timothy's friendship by immersing the woman of the cloth's blizzard of thoughts relentlessly, bluntly. Or, that was unrequited love also. Or who else knows?

With the elapsing time, what the British compatriot could notice in Jude was her diligence, maturity, dedicated responsibility for the consequences and the missions they're doing together, besides the authority oozing of her and welcoming its new visitors.

Little did the blonde know what were Timothy's intentions of calling her exceedingly into his office after the grave, professional conversation with Arthur Arden, one of the best professional doctors in the mental institution.