Sister Christine

When the door swung open we found before us the most beautiful face I'd ever gazed upon. Young, no more than eighteen...with pallid, almost white skin. The girl's flesh was so smooth her face looked chiseled from wax.

But it was her eyes—those unusual eyes!—that struck me. Everything else seemed to fall into relief but those eyes. Large, catlike, mounted wide apart upon prominent, almost oriental, cheekbones. Brown, they were, but almost auburn in their glowing tint. And the pupils were dilated, reflecting the light from the doorway like pools—deep pools—as if this half-child held timeless worlds within her.

And was that actually eye-shadow about her long-lashed lids? How strange! This face, this delicate and exquisite face, framed by the hood of her habit...could it be adorned with makeup?

The teenaged nun's nose was small and perfect, her mouth large with full, dark lips—lips that appeared to be wet with a dark, almost purple, gloss. But I doubted that this could be; the order of sisters she belonged to was much too orthodox, they would never allow it. In the full raiment of her order she stood on our step, in the howling evening wind, like some strange goddess of the night.

Leasa, my wife, then invited our holiday guest into our home.

At thirty, Leasa was a noted psychologist and had been working with the local convent, helping the sisters there recover from some, most unfortunate, incidents. She had been doing routine work at the convent when the horror occurred. It was considered safest to have many of the sisters, who would not be spending the holidays with relatives, spend them with local families, getting the women out of the confines of the desolate convent walls.

Sister Christine now appeared at our doorstep to stay with us.

As we took her shawl, I found for the first time in my marriage an eddy of arousal and guilt swirl within my heart, and elsewhere, as I took in Christine's visage. I found myself immediately and extraordinarily attracted to her.

Leasa and I had been married only seven months at the time. I had never had any inclination or reason to dwell on the attractions of another woman because, quite frankly, Leasa was herself a beauty. We met only a year before at an evening affair and—surprisingly for a married couple—much of her background was still vague to me. But according to the sketchy biography she'd related, Leasa had grown up in Texas, and had, in fact, been a statewide beauty queen. At 5'9", blonde and shapely, I'd never seen another woman that I considered as beautiful as my own wife.

But this creature before me...there was something about her...an ineffable radiance submerged within a serene and somber grace that was well beyond her years...and which exuded a strange sensuality.

We dined late. In the large dining room the three of us were dwarfed by our surroundings. The home we were renting at the time belonged to a wealthy friend of Leasa's who was spending the year in Europe. We were only subletting until we found a more reasonable abode for ourselves. The house was actually more a mansion, with several acres surrounding it.

The property was beautiful. The only drawback was the wildlife in the area. Leasa and I both loved animals, but this area seemed plagued by unusual creatures, which we could hear at night. The occasional growling and howling made me fear for Leasa's safety, since my wife was a night bird. I forbade her taking walks at night any more. She had done so in the past to clear her head when she was working on problems related to her work.

As we sat down to dinner, I noticed the dining room table was ridiculously large for just the three of us. But I was drawn, even at the distance, to Christine's diet and table manners. She ate little and only sipped at her wine. But strangely, she would at times allow her wine to run slightly from her lips. When she would notice my wife and I staring, she would smile demurely and dab the offending rivulet of merlot from her chin. My eyes would meet Leasa's, half questioning, half amused, as if asking: What kind of girl is this?

As Christine held her goblet, I noticed the delicacy of her tiny hands. Even at her short height and slender frame, her hands appeared almost childlike in size, although perfectly formed. Again, I found myself taken back by the dark nail polish gracing her fingernails. In all, the girl's appearance was similar to what we would now call 'Goth.' But this was the early seventies, long before such a style was even imagined.

Leasa served dinner to Christine and I, but she herself also ate little; she had long suffered from what I thought was an ulcer, but today it might be recognized as borderline anorexia. I worried about her but considered it a mild, physical disorder only.

"Christine, what has the last few days been like among the sisters? Were they excited about going home for the holidays?" Leasa inquired, so as to make conversation among strangers.

"I wouldn't say excited," Christine softly, but forthrightly, responded: "I would describe them as 'intent.' They were very anxious to leave the premises."

Then she added, as somewhat of an afterthought and affirmation, "...yes."

"Were they frightened?" my wife pressed.

Christine looked at her curiously, as if Leasa might have been the patient and the young nun the therapist:

"Wouldn't you be?"

"Well...yes. Of course. I guess it was a silly question," Leasa retracted, somewhat embarrassed.

"It's alright, Leasa. Sometimes I forget to think before speaking—or acting, too." Christine responded flatly and sincerely, holding Leasa in her serene gaze.

Leasa appeared to have been slapped by the remark, but slapped so gently it brought forth only a smile of acknowledgement.

"Would you like to see your room?"

"Yes, I am tired," the girl confessed.

As they rose from the table to retire upstairs, I noticed the sway and roll of the girl's breasts under the loose fitting robes of her habit. She wore no bra. Her breasts were firm and quite large for such an elfin frame. I could feel my own hardness, as I found myself staring at the young nun's breasts. Although I chastised myself for my instinctive lust, I found myself staring at the sensuous bounce of the free floating pair of mammaries, while the women departed the dining area.

I was stunned and embarrassed to find Leasa peering at the train of my eyes, catching me leering at the chest of the girl—she was not pleased.

That night as we retired to bed, we discussed the evening, and I pleaded my case:

"But, my God, honey! The girl had on no bra. Have you ever seen a braless nun before? I haven't! And what's with the eye shadow, lipstick and nail polish? She looks like she's out of a Poe novella. What?—Is our holiday guest Ligeia?"

"These women have been through a lot, Edward. I can't explain her appearance—yet. But I hope that in our session tomorrow this will work itself out."

Leasa came to bed wearing a sheer nightgown. Her breasts were large. They always seemed too large for her frame. Not surprisingly, I never minded or complained. My body always responded to just the sight of her naked. I was hard and took her into my arms. I kissed her neck deeply and breathed in her flesh. I loved her smell.

After rolling her underneath me, I pushed up the flimsy garment and wedged my thick, aching dick into her nether lips. They were full and wet...very wet. I sank myself into her—to the root. I felt the tension I'd been feeling all night during dinner begin to uncoil, as my hips began to churn and bang into my wife's body.

Leasa grunted in response to each deep thrust of my hips into hers. She held me tight. But otherwise, as was so often the case, she lay back, widespread but passive, as I humped into her repeatedly.

Our hips slapped loudly, as I pounded myself deeply into Leasa. As I labored away, my eyes closed...and the vision that came to me was hauntingly beautiful. It was the face we greeted that night at the door. It was Christine.

I continued to pound into Leasa with greater and greater fury, while for the first time in our relationship I fantasized having another woman beneath me. I could hear Leasa grunting and shaking as I bulled my hips into hers, goring her with a savageness we had never shared in our bed before. But beneath me in the dark, I could see only Christine, naked and white, wearing nothing but her crucifix, her long, raven hair tossed and tangled like a dark, sleepy night-storm.

I came violently. I had never come like that before. It was from a place deep within me and I thought the spasms would never stop, as I ground my loins roughly into my wife's.

Then I settled weakly on top of her, starting the freefall into sleep that sex brings on. I felt the pang of one last orgasmic spasm, exhaled and whispered, "...Christine..."

The next morning I awoke and dressed, while Leasa—as was her custom—stayed in bed through most the day.

For the next two days we said little to each other.

**********

Leasa's work with the strange creature that boarded with us was performed primarily at night. I didn't understand why they held their sessions only at night. But often they stayed together behind closed doors from dusk till nearly dawn.

Sometimes in the late dusk, I would look out from my study window to see them outside walking arm in arm.

One night, I was surprised to see them sitting together on the garden bench holding each other's hand and speaking closely. Casually, Christine rested her head on Leasa's shoulder. Leasa placed her arm around the girl and drew her closer. After just a few minutes, Leasa kissed the girl's forehead. However, night descended quickly, and soon I could no longer make out what they were doing in the dark.

I found the situation more than a little unsettling. They appeared a couple, and I felt both shock and a vague jealousy.

I wondered: Was I losing my wife to this strange girl?

Leasa's behavior was unprofessional, I thought. My mind struggled to justify my anger and jealousy, as I also struggled with the excitement engendered by seeing the two women embrace.

This was different than seeing Leasa with another man. I found myself unsure how to react.

"Had she ever been with a woman before?" I wondered.

I also wondered if all the jealousy I felt was in regard to Leasa.

I decided: that night I would confront my wife before the situation jeopardized both our marriage and her career.

**********

"Leasa, has your relationship with the girl grown beyond a professional one?"

Leasa was brushing her long blonde hair while she gazed out of our bedroom window. She wore only a negligee that provided a filmy view of her nakedness. It was as if she wanted to taunt me with the charms she had withheld since the night I had breathed Christine's name into her ear.

"Have we been spying again, Edward?"

"You haven't been discreet enough to require spying, darling."

"So then, do I detect jealousy?"

"Perhaps..."

"Over my interest in her...or hers in me?"

"That was unfair..."

"Edward, I wasn't trying to be unfair. I honestly want to know."

I sensed Leasa was putting down her shield. The ice-cold mind games were over. My wife wanted to speak honestly and sincerely with her husband, again. It was clear I had hurt her the other night, but now she wanted reconciliation.

"Leasa, you must know that I love you. You aren't really in doubt, are you?"

"Wouldn't your behavior the other night leave any woman 'in doubt'?"

Then she turned, looking deeply into my eyes:

"Edward, I'm not into threesomes—literally or psychologically."

My wife was too wise and too articulate to dance around. I looked to the floor for inspiration. None came. I had no idea how to respond.

Leasa sat down on the bed beside me.

"If you tell me I have nothing to worry about, I will believe you."

I suddenly realized I had started this discussion to confront my wife's behavior with the young nun, and now I was on the defensive. I felt angry and frustrated.

"And Leasa...if you tell me I have nothing to worry about, I will also believe you."

I felt the sudden sting of a slap across my face. Leasa arose from the bed furious.

"I am trying to forgive you, and you accuse me of having an unprofessional—and unnatural—affair with a young girl! Why must men be such pigs!"

I was stunned. I had never heard Leasa speak like that, nor become so incensed. I sat on the edge of the bed just staring at her. Her eyes were wide with rage and her breast heaved.

I had no idea what to say.

Then, as suddenly as it began, Leasa seemed to calm herself.

"Edward, I'm so sorry..."

She came to the bed and cradled my face in her hands. Her lips were open and wet, as they pressed to mine. I felt the warmth of Leasa's tongue in my mouth and I instinctively reached for her full breasts.

I began to maneuver myself on top of her when a loud knock jarred us from our lovemaking. Someone was at our bedroom door.

********** The door had been opened wide, and in the doorway stood Christine. She wore a nightgown of white cloth that touched the floor and left a slight train behind her. Her feet were not visible.

Her straight, jet-black hair flowed down her back and draped over her shoulders—in sharp contrast to her white gown and pale skin.

Like some beautiful night creature she stared impassively at my wife and I, while we stared up at her partially engaged in the act of love.

I pulled out of Leasa and sat up on the bed, baring my excitement, as Leasa struggled to pull down her negligee.

"I'm sorry to intrude," the girl said calmly, even while eyeing our nakedness like a curious child. "Leasa will you be coming downstairs for our session tonight?"

"Uh...yes...Yes, of course. Christine give us a few minutes and I'll come down to start..."

Christine stared at Leasa's nakedness through the transparent negligee. A slight, knowing smile played gently across her full lips.

"Don't be long," she said. "I really need you tonight."

Leasa was stunned at the suggestiveness implied in the girl's request. My wife looked down at the floor, her neck and face reddening:

"I will be down, shortly."

Christine left as silently as she arrived...and closed the door behind her.

Leasa arose from the bed, put on a robe from the closet, and without meeting my eyes, exited the room to fulfill the request of our strange guest below.

**********

After an hour or more, I felt a strange, eerie stillness within the house. Something was happening in the rooms below, and I had to discover what it might be.

I stole quietly downstairs and came outside Leasa's study. The door was opened and I entered. All was still, silent.

Then I heard moans coming from down the hallway. As I discreetly maneuvered my way down the dimly lit hall, it became quite clear the moaning was upstairs.

I returned to the stairway and ascended as I had descended—in stealth.

When I returned to the crest of the staircase, it was clear a rustling, perhaps whispering, came from Christine's room.

I came to the guest's door and reached up to knock upon it, but checked my hand just as a groan emitted from the room's interior.

In a gesture as practical and ancient as are doors themselves, I knelt at the keyhole and peered into the room.

Perhaps I expected to see the scene before me...but my heart wouldn't let me believe it could be true.

The young nun lie naked on the bed, thighs splayed wide, and Leasa, kneeling alongside the bed, had brought her lips to the girl's labia. My wife was snaking her tongue lewdly up and down the engorged nether lips of our young guest, drawing moans from the girl.

As I watched, Christine played with her ample breasts, pulling and pinching the distended nipples, as she lay spread for my wife to pleasure her orally.

Leasa's eyes looked moist, almost glazed, as if she perfomed in a trance, slaving away between Christine's slender thighs, with no purpose but to please her lover.

Leasa paused and looked up from between the crevice of the young nun's thighs, her face glistening with the girls secretions, as if verifying that her ministrations were pleasing her partner.

"Don't stop..." the girl whispered, as much a command as a request.

My wife then let her tongue snake back between the soft pink folds of the girls wet, puffy vaginal lips.

A gentle, sleepy smile played across Christine's lips...then her eyes opened and she looked directly at the keyhole. She smiled sleepily and mouthed the words:

"I love you..."

There was no doubt in my mind she was saying this to me. Although I knew it was impossible for her to see me at the keyhole, the words were meant for me. She knew I was there.

My wife continued to kneel before the girl as minutes passed to tens of minutes, she appeared to be performing some sort of carnal supplication before the altar of the young girl's sex.

Finally, Christine sat up, arms spread, and coaxed Leasa from the floor. My wife arose and began to mount the girl, their breasts crushing against each the other's. Christine wrapped her legs around Leasa's hips as she would a male lover's...

And then a horrible look came to Leasa's eyes, they became...wild, foreign, almost beastly...the whites of her eyes grew suddenly red, her pupils widened, as she stared voraciously at the bared neck of the girl.

Christine seemed oblivious, smiling peacefully, apparently offering her neck purposefully to the terror threatening her from inches above.

My wife's teeth were white and sharp as she bit into the girl's neck.

I started from my crouch at the door's keyhole, my breath was lost from the shock of the violence I was witnessing. But I was stayed by the placid, serene, almost deathly look in Christine's eye, as my wife bit deeply into her bared throat.

My wife lifted her face from the girl's neck. Blood, mixed with the sticky juices of the girl's sex, were smeared together across Leasa's face. She looked wild and carnivorous, her jaw hung open wide, unlike the engineering of a human jaw.

I knelt frozen, witnessing the murder of the girl by my own wife—or what initially appeared to have been my wife.

I felt the lightheadedness of shock overcoming me.

I tried to arise from my kneeling position to burst open the door, but as I did my sight was overcome with alternating blue and white spots.

I felt the tilt of the room and then heard a loud thud. It was my own shoulder and head crashing to the floor.

Then a black pool of ink enveloped me...and I welcomed it.

**********

I awoke in bed with the two women sitting calmly along side me. They just sat there placidly staring at me, as if nothing had occurred.

I noticed that Christine wore a dress that rose to a turtleneck collar covering her throat fully, up to the soft curve of her jaw line.

Leasa looked more concerned and pale. She did not look well. But it appeared her concern was over my welfare.

But I wondered...

"What happened? What were you both doing?"

"Doing?" Christine inquired gently. "We were downstairs as always. Then we heard your fall. We found you at my bedroom door."

"Edward, what were you doing?" Leasa probed. Her eyes had bluish black rings about them. She seemed weak...and worried.

"I heard moaning...I heard it in Christine's room. Then I opened the door and found you both...feasting on one another!"

I had disingenuously omitted peering through the bedroom keyhole from my story, but I felt it a trifle compared to what I had witnessed between my two inquisitors.

"Edward, I think you have taken a fever...look how you sweat..." Christine remarked.

I was covered in sweat. But I knew this was not a fever—it was fright.

"Leasa," Christine continued, "I think you may have caught it too."

Leasa's hand trembled as she held it to her forehead: