Conflicted Nun
S.W. Blayde
Conflicted Nun
a novella
© 2020 by S.W. Blayde
All Rights Reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
BOOKS by S.W. Blayde
Sexual Awakening – click title or search for "B00L1VHIZC" on Amazon
Steele Justice – click title or search for "B078VQXHNJ" on Amazon
High School Massacre – click title or search for "B07XGBLDM9" on Amazon
Death of a Hero – click title or search for "B07NZFB386" on Amazon
The Breeder – click title or search for "B08CSVXR58" on Amazon
Chapter 1
It was rare for Catholic schools in current times to have nuns as school teachers, but the Wings of Angels Catholic High School was not an ordinary school. The small farming community in the midwestern part of the United States had been founded by Irish Catholic settlers in the late 1800s, and the Catholic church had seen it as an opportunity, a place where it could get a footing in the dominantly Protestant country. The Church had hoped to expand its influence to the neighboring towns and then the state and finally the entire country. So it invested heavily in a church, convent, and three schools. A coed elementary and two high schools, one for boys and one for girls. The nuns from the convent served as the school teachers. There was one priest who resided in the small private living quarters next to the church. The Church's dream of spreading its influence had failed, but over a century later the convent and schools survived, as did their influence on the town and children in their care.
The young nun sat behind her large oak desk at the Wings of Angels Catholic High School for girls. Sister Gabrielle's elbows rested on the desktop with her fingers steepled under her chin as she watched her fifteen- and sixteen-year-old students take the English exam. Looking from girl to girl, Sister Gabrielle recalled when, only seven years ago, she had been that age. Back then, she had been so unsure of everything except that she loved God and wanted to serve Him. Unlike these girls, she had grown up elsewhere and had gone to a coed high school with all the insecurities and awkwardness of being around boys during puberty. Not that she had been attracted to them like the girls who had flaunted their bodies. At least that was one problem these girls didn't have to deal with. No boys in their classes or the hallways. They could focus on their studies without the distraction of a love interest.
As Sister Gabrielle's eyes roamed the classroom, they stopped under Caitlin Callahan's desk, at the girl's calf-high white cotton socks and dark blue plaid skirt. That was what all the girls wore, along with the white button-down blouse, so it wasn't Caitlin's clothing that caught her attention. It was the girl's carelessly spread knees showing the white cotton panties molded to her young vulva. The panties were so visible that the damp stain on the crotch showed. Sister Gabrielle made a mental note to talk to Caitlin after class. Not to scold her, but to remind her that girls needed to be more careful when wearing a skirt. Modesty was godly. And also to remind her of the importance of planning ahead, like using the toilet before class started. While staring, the dark spot grew a little larger. Sister Gabrielle's eyes shot to Caitlin's face. It was scrunched with her lips pressed together. The discussion would have to wait. Caitlin would need to leave the classroom as soon as the period ended.
Sister Gabrielle's attention was diverted two desks to the right when Cara Doyle slapped both hands over her face. The pen locked between two fingers threatened to leave a mark on her forehead. Sister Gabrielle's eyes automatically glanced under the young girl's desk. Her legs were together and tilted to the side. Cara knew how to sit when wearing a skirt. Not all girls were as immodest as Caitlin Callahan.
Sister Gabrielle glanced at the big round clock high on the back wall, white with black numbers and arms, plain and unassuming like her. Had Cara already finished the exam? She couldn't have. She was smart and an exceptional student, but she couldn't have finished the test that quickly. What was the matter with the girl? Was she ill?
With her palms flat on the desk and the large cross swaying from her neck as she leaned forward, Sister Gabrielle was rising from the chair when Cara's hands slid off her face. Sister Gabrielle plopped back down, but her heart went out to the girl. Cara looked so sad. Was she having trouble with the test? It wasn't that hard. A refresh of grammar in preparation for the essay soon to be assigned. Material that she had previously learned. And knew.
But Cara didn't return to taking the exam. She stared straight ahead. Sister Gabrielle automatically looked over her shoulder to see what the girl was looking at. The white board had nothing on it. She looked back at Cara who had a faraway look. Maybe she was thinking about a test question, trying to remember the answer. Sister Gabrielle's hand flew to her chest and she suppressed her gasp. A single tear rolled down Cara's right cheek. The girl swiped it away before returning to her exam.
Sister Gabrielle continued watching her students. They were known to cheat, even though her black and white habit and the ruler always visible on her desktop were intimidating. Not that she had ever used the ruler like other Sisters. But her eyes continued to return to Cara. She looked so sad and more times than not she stopped writing to gaze blankly into space. Occasionally when Sister Gabrielle looked at her, she caught Cara staring at her. The girl quickly lowered her head and concentrated on her exam.
With a glance at the clock, Sister Gabrielle rolled her chair out from under the desk and stood up. "Okay, girls, put your pens down and turn over your tests. Time is up."
Fifteen heads popped up and stared at her. Then, one by one, they flipped their papers over. Sister Gabrielle started at the first desk on the left and collected the test papers as she walked up and down the aisles.
At Caitlin's desk, she leaned over and whispered, "If you need to use the restroom you're excused."
The girl's head shot up and she gawked at the nun with wide eyes. But then she grabbed her pen in one hand and her backpack in the other and jumped from the seat. She dashed out of the classroom. Sister Gabrielle smiled. It was good for the students to think she could read their minds. Kept her in control. She continued collecting the tests until she reached Cara's desk. She laid a hand on the sixteen-year-old girl's shoulder and leaned over.
"Is everything all right?" Sister Gabrielle whispered.
Cara looked up and stared into the nun's face with the saddest eyes Sister Gabrielle had ever seen. The girl nodded.
"Sure?" Sister Gabrielle asked.
"Yes, Sister."
"Well, if you want to talk, I'm always here for you."
Cara continued to stare. Sister Gabrielle waited, but when Cara didn't speak she finished collecting the papers and returned to the front of the room. She leaned against the front of her big desk and waited. The bell rang. All eyes were on their teacher, expectant eyes. When she nodded, all the students scurried out from behind their desks and carried their belongings out of the classroom. Cara was slow to get up so Sister Gabrielle expected her to remain in the classroom to talk, but she followed the other girls out. Sister Gabrielle watched Cara's blonde ponytail tied with a blue ribbon hang down her back.
Throughout the rest of the day, Sister Gabrielle couldn't stop thinking about Cara. Something was troubling the girl. Why hadn't Cara told her what it was? She'd ask God to help the troubled girl.
After the day's last class, Sister Gabrielle headed for the church adjacent to the school. She entered, knelt and made the sign of the cross, and then walked down the center aisle. She stopped. Someone was whimpering. Following the sobs, Sister Gabrielle saw the back of a lowered head in the second pew from the front, at the blonde ponytail with a dark blue ribbon. Cara's forehead rested on her clasped hands which were pressed against the back of the pew in front of her. Her eyes were closed and her lips moved in silent prayer.
Sister Gabrielle, as quietly as possible, walked crablike in the pew until she was standing next to the young girl. She sat down and placed a hand on Cara's shoulder. Cara flinched. Her head shot up and she turned. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her cheeks wet.
"I'm sorry," Sister Gabrielle said, "I didn't mean to scare you. I come here for guidance too. It's very comforting. But sometimes it's better to talk to someone who will talk back to you."
Cara stared at the nun and then rubbed the tears from her eyes. "Has God ever spoken to you?"
"He speaks to me all the time."
Cara's eyes opened wide. "What does He sound like?"
"Oh no. He speaks to me in my heart."
Fresh tears flowed from Cara's eyes. "Why won't He talk to me? I pray and He doesn't answer."
Sister Gabrielle placed a hand on Cara's forearm. "Maybe He has. Maybe He heard you and sent me to help you."
"You can't help me."
"Give me a try. What's troubling you?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"Why?"
"Because you're a nun."
"I'm still a woman and I was your age once when I wasn't a Sister. I would like to help you."
"You can't!"
"Why?"
"Because you're a nun."
"You can't keep saying that. Please let me try."
Cara stared at Sister Gabrielle. It looked like she was about to unload her feelings, but the young girl suddenly snatched her bookbag from the bench next to her, jumped up, and rushed to the end of the pew. She banged into the wooden seat as she turned into the aisle but, after pausing a moment to rub her hip, fled the church. Sister Gabrielle sat there watching the girl's blonde ponytail swing side to side on her back. And then Cara was gone, leaving the nun alone in the church. Not alone. God was always with her. She leaned forward like she had found Cara, with her forehead resting on her clasped hands, and asked God to give her the wisdom to help her student. Something was troubling the young girl.
Chapter 2
The next day, Sister Gabrielle once again marched up and down the classroom aisles, this time returning the graded exams, placing them upside down on each student's desk. She paused at Cara's desk after laying her exam down. Without looking up, Cara folded the top of the paper back to see the big D in red. She slapped it back down and made eye contact with Sister Gabrielle for a split second before quickly looking away. Only then did Sister Gabrielle move on to the next desk.
For the duration of the class, Cara was quiet with her head mostly hung. The times Sister Gabrielle made eye contact with her, Cara's eyes darted away. The other students had put their tests away as soon as checking the grade, but Cara's lay upside down on her desk the entire period. She constantly picked at one corner of the paper. When the class ended, she folded the paper in half without looking at it, slid it inside her textbook, and left with shoulders slumped.
The rest of the day dragged for Sister Gabrielle as she worried about Cara Doyle. The nun was familiar with the despair she had seen in Cara's eyes. She had felt it in high school. When the school day finally ended, she went to her office to work on the next day's lesson, but her mind kept wandering back to Cara Doyle. She would get to the bottom of Cara's problem. Having asked for God's help the day before in church after Cara had left, she felt His strength inside her.
There was a soft knock on the door.
Sister Gabrielle looked up. "Come in."
Cara entered with her bookbag slung over one shoulder. Her eyes were downcast. She looked up. "You wrote on my exam that you wanted to see me."
"Please shut the door and have a seat."
Cara closed the door and walked up to the two chairs in front of Sister Gabrielle's desk. She lowered her bookbag onto one of them and swept her dark blue skirt behind her thighs as she sat down on the other. Her knees were together the way a girl should sit. The proper way.
"Cara, look at me," Sister Gabrielle said. The girl looked up. "Are you satisfied with your grade?"
Cara's eyes dropped and she shook her head. The stressful silence caused her to look back up.
"Can you explain it?" Sister Gabrielle asked. "You didn't even bother to answer many of the questions. I was generous with the D. It was F work."
Cara lowered her head and shrugged. Sister Gabrielle slapped both palms on her desktop. The sound rang in the small room. Cara flinched and looked up.
"I asked you a question, young lady."
Cara's bottom lip quivered. Her eyes watered. And then a tear fell from her right eye and rolled down her cheek just like it had in class the previous day. Except this time it was followed by one from her left eye.
"I couldn't concentrate," Cara said.
"Why not?"
"Oh, Sister, I can't tell you."
"Then you'll tell the Reverend Mother. I won't accept that kind of work from you."
"Oh no, please, not her!"
"Then tell me."
The tears flowed freely now down both cheeks. Cara kept wiping them away, but they continued to come back. She struggled to talk, but the words kept catching. Sister Gabrielle waited until the girl composed herself.
"I sinned, Sister. I asked God for help, but He didn't answer."
"What did you expect from Him?"
"I don't know. Forgiveness?"
"That's what confession is for. Confess your sin to Father Hennessey and your sin will be absolved."
"Oh no! I couldn't!"
"Why not?"
"Father Hennessey is a man."
"He's a priest."
"But he's also a man. I can't tell him that— Oh, please, Sister, I just can't. Can I tell you?"
"I'm not a priest."
"But you're a woman."
"I'm a nun."
"And a woman. Oh, please, Sister, I need to tell someone. I can't concentrate anymore. I keep praying but it doesn't help. I feel so lost."
"Do you know why I chose the name Gabrielle?"
Cara gawked at the nun with wide eyes. "Isn't that what your parents named you?"
"No. A Sister is given a new name at her profession of vows. Some orders choose it for the nun. I was able to choose my own. Do you remember the archangel Gabriel from your religion class?"
"He told Mary she was pregnant or something."
Sister Gabrielle pressed her lips together as she shook her head. "Or something," she said. "Gabriel means 'God is my strong man.' I get my strength from Gabriel. That's why I took his name. Let me use that strength to help you. Tell me what's troubling you."
Cara looked down and back up. Her eyes dropped to her lap once again. In a soft voice, she said, "I have these feelings I can't control. Urges. I feel so ashamed."
Only seven years older than Cara, Sister Gabrielle's high school memories were still fresh in her mind. Haunting memories of not fitting in. Being ridiculed. Laughed at. Scoffed. It didn't help that she was beautiful. That had made it worse. All the boys had wanted to date her. Even the jocks and popular ones. She had turned them all down. Not interested. Even back then she had known her destiny and remained steadfast. Not that she hadn't cried herself to sleep many nights.
Anger boiled up inside Sister Gabrielle. "Cara, enough! I want to know exactly what you did!" She slapped her desktop. "Right now!"
Cara jumped. Her left hand was like a blur as it yanked the front of her plaid skirt up to her waist. Her right hand flew between her spreading legs. Two fingers pressed down on the white cotton panties, right where her clitoris was.
Sister Gabrielle gasped. Stunned, immobile for only a few seconds, she leaped from the chair. It shot out from under her, rolling backward, causing her to lose her balance. Her forearm landed on the desktop on the way down which keep her from falling. When she got control, she dashed around the desk with the cross hanging from her neck swinging like Cara's ponytail had when she fled the church. By the time Sister Gabrielle was on the other side of the desk, Cara's head was tilted back, her eyes closed, lips slightly parted to allow the heavy breaths to pass, and her two fingers were vigorously rubbing side to side. Sister Gabrielle grabbed Cara's arm and pulled her hand away, giving the back of the hand a stinging slap.
Cara's eyes shot open. The two stared at each other for a moment before Cara cupped her face in both hands and cried. The back of her right hand was pink.
"Oh dear Lord, I'm sorry," Sister Gabrielle said. She pulled Cara's head to her belly and hugged it. "Please forgive me. I'm so sorry."
Sister Gabrielle held Cara until the girl's sobs ceased and then tilted the girl's head back and gazed into two watery blue eyes. "Why did you do that?"
Cara looked down. She quickly pulled her skirt over her thighs. In a soft voice, she said, "You said you wanted to know what I did."
"I meant tell me."
Cara's hands flew back to her face. "Oh no! Ohmigod! You must think I'm awful."
Sister Gabrielle lifted the bookbag off the seat and lowered it to the floor. She sat down next to Cara and took the pink hand in hers and stroked the back. "Does it hurt?"
Cara nodded.
"I'm sorry. I never hit a student before. I never hit anyone."
"So what I did was so bad that you had to hit me. I'm so ashamed. I wish I were dead."
"No! Don't ever say that."
Cara stared into Sister Gabrielle's eyes. "What did you do when you were my age? When you had that feeling? Before you were a nun."
Sister Gabrielle clasped Cara's hand in her two. "I prayed."
"I pray all the time. It doesn't help."
"You have to be strong."
"Oh, Sister, I try. It's just that…" Cara lowered her head.
"What?"
Without looking up, Cara said, "It feels too good."
"We all have to make sacrifices."
Cara's head shot up. "But why? Didn't God make our bodies? Isn't this His doing?"
"You're blaming God?"
"I'm not blaming Him. Sometimes I…" Cara blushed, "…thank Him."
"What! For you sinning?"
"No, for making my body, um, give me those feelings. He gave us eyes so that we can see. Ears to hear. A tongue to taste. So why did He give us, um, you know, if He didn't want us to use it?"
"Maybe He's testing you."
"Then that's two tests I failed."
The two stared at each other and then both burst out laughing, first Sister Gabrielle followed by Cara.
"I gave you a D," Sister Gabrielle said, "not an F."
Cara looked down. She smoothed her skirt over her legs and then said, "Do I have to go to confession?"
"I can see why it would be hard talking to Father Hennessey about it. You already asked God for forgiveness. Let's leave it at that."
Cara flung her arms around Sister Gabrielle and hugged her tight. "Oh thank you. Thank you. I feel a lot better."
After Cara left, Sister Gabrielle went back to preparing the next day's lesson. But her mind kept drifting and she'd catch herself staring at the chair Cara had been sitting on. She remembered the girl's face when she touched herself. She couldn't get that image out of her mind. A face filled with pleasure, ecstasy. Almost like she was in a trance. Her face looked so—the nun could only think of one word—angelic.
Sister Gabrielle's pulse raced. She hadn't felt like that since high school. She was conflicted. God did create their bodies. Did God purposefully make certain parts of the body simply to tempt the person? To test them? Her resolve had always been strong.
The image of Cara's face returned. It had been radiant. Glowing. Sister Gabrielle's hand involuntarily went to her lap and pushed down on the heavy black material. She jerked her hand away and, like Cara a short while before, buried her face in her hands. But with her eyes closed, Cara's angelic face returned.
Sister Gabrielle uncovered her face and glanced at the door. With her eyes glued to it, she parted her legs and pressed her hand between them. What did Cara find so pleasurable? Maybe if she knew she could help the girl. She pressed a little harder. Nothing.
Sister Gabrielle stood up. Watching the door, she gathered her long habit up, dragging it up her legs, over her belly, tucking it under her chin. She looked down at her underwear. It wasn't a bikini cut and tight fitting like Cara's panties. Hers were loose and large, supplied by her order. She tried to remember exactly where Cara's fingers had been pressed. Sister Gabrielle had lived a sheltered life. Her parents would never think to talk to her about that area of her body. And she had avoided the other girls in school when she was younger. She touched around the area. She felt mostly the crinkly thatch of hair underneath the loose-fitting underwear.
Still staring at the door with the front of her habit held up under her chin, Sister Gabrielle pushed the underwear down to mid-thigh. She sat down in the chair with the back of the habit under her butt. She spread her legs as far as the underwear stretched at her thighs would allow and stared at her crotch. She had never studied it before. Never even really looked at it. Why would she? Being nude had always embarrassed her. The longest she was nude was when she showered. And the only times she touched herself down there was to wash it in the shower or wipe it after peeing. Or to put a tampon in when needed.
But now, with the front of her habit tucked under her chin, she stared at the area between her legs for the first time. Really looked at it. All she saw was the massive hair that grew up toward her bellybutton and spread out to her thighs. It hid everything. So Sister Gabrielle parted the hair like Moses had the Red Sea. She couldn't believe she was touching herself down there. But she wasn't sinning like Cara had. She wasn't pleasuring herself. It was an examination.
Pushing the pubic hair aside and holding it down with her fingers, pressing down and out, the cleft parted. At the top something she had never seen before popped out. While everything else was pink, the little button was the milky color of a pearl. With a shaking hand, Sister Gabrielle placed two fingertips on it like she had seen Cara do. She rubbed back and forth.
"Ouch!"
Sister Gabrielle yanked her hand away. The rubbing hurt. Something wasn't right.
There was a knock on the door. Sister Gabrielle gasped and lifted her head. The habit, freed from her chin, dropped to her lap. The door opened. Sister Gabrielle held her breath. The Reverend Mother stuck her head around the door and entered the office. Sister Gabrielle jumped to her feet. The long habit that had been bunched in her lap cascaded down her legs. Her loose underwear dropped to her feet.
"Am I disturbing you, Sister Gabrielle?" the Reverend Mother asked.
Sister Gabrielle's heart stopped. With her underwear resting her shoes, Sister Gabrielle shuffled forward until her thighs dug into the edge of the desk.
"No, of…course…not," Sister Gabrielle said.
Her words were broken with pauses as she tried to control her breathing. Her heart raced inside her chest, ready to explode. She leaned against the desk more. She had admonished Caitlin Callahan a day earlier for scandalously showing her panties. Sister Gabrielle now stood in front of the Reverend Mother with her underwear at her feet. She felt as if the Reverend Mother could see through her habit at her shamelessness.
"Are you feeling well?" the Reverend Mother asked. "You look flushed."
"I'm fine. You just startled me."
"I apologize. I know how busy you all are. I really appreciate your dedication and hard work." The Reverend Mother paused. Her pale, wrinkled hand, the knuckles knotted with arthritis, flew to her cheek and her eyes moved up and to the left. "Now what was it? Hmm." She tapped her chin. "Oh yes, it's about one of your students."
Sister Gabrielle's breath caught. Had Cara reported her to the Reverend Mother? Teachers were allowed to hit their students.
"Rachel Moss," the Reverend Mother said.
"Cara? I, um, mean Rachel. What about her?"
"Her father was transferred to another state. She's leaving the school."
Sister Gabrielle's breathing calmed a little. "That's too bad. She's a good student."
"We'll need a final grade for the semester. For her transcript. For her new school. Can you have that to Administration by the end of the week?"
"Yes, of course."
"Good." The Reverend Mother once again studied Sister Gabrielle. "Are you sure you are all right? You seem to be sweating."
"I'm fine. Just upset that I'm losing Rachel. I enjoy having her in my class."
"That's good. Okay, by the end of the week then. The sooner the better. They have a lot to get ready for the transfer." The Reverend Mother turned and started to leave. She stopped and looked over her shoulder. "Get some rest. You look like you may be coming down with something." She left and closed the door.
Sister Gabrielle took a deep breath and then furiously gathered her habit up. With the front of the habit held up by her chin, she bent and yanked her underwear up, and then let the habit fall back down. She plopped into her chair with a deep sigh.
Chapter 3
Sister Gabrielle finished dinner with the other nuns and retired to her bedroom. The convent bedrooms were not grandiose, but they weren't the unimposing cells typical of other convents. Each had a bed with a single end table and lamp, dresser with a chair and mirror, closet, and toilet with small shower. A large cross hung over the bed and the single window was even adorned with a window shade and drape. Sister Gabrielle took her thick cotton nightgown out of the dresser and laid it on the bed, then she removed her habit and undergarments, hanging the habit in the closet and putting her undergarments into the hamper. She slipped on the collar-to-ankle nightgown.
Sister Gabrielle sat at the dresser and picked up the hairbrush. She stared at herself in the mirror thinking back to watching Cara's long ponytail bounce on her back. The nun ran her fingers through her short crop of brown hair and solemnly remembered how long and wavy it had been before becoming a nun. Her ponytail had nearly reached her waist. If she had any vanity back then, it had been her hair. At the convent, every month the nuns lined up outside Sister Agatha's bedroom and one by one had their hair butchered. There was no style. Why would there be? Their hair was always covered with a coif and veil. And there was a reason for their hair to be kept short. Gazing into the mirror, Sister Gabrielle once again ran her fingers through her hair, letting it slip free and fall back down. She sighed before brushing her hair like she did every night. Her routine brought order to her life.
The book she had been reading lay on the end table where she had left it the previous night. The sides lined up with the edges of the table. Everything in its proper place. That was how she lived. She propped up the two pillows against the wall and climbed into bed. Fetching the novel, she opened it to the page where the bookmark held the place, the beginning of Chapter Twelve, and laid the bookmark on the table within easy reach.
She read two or three paragraphs before her mind wandered. Snapping the novel closed around her thumb to hold the place, she squeezed her eyes shut trying to get the image of Cara rubbing herself out of her mind. It didn’t work. Instead, thoughts of the discomfort she had suffered when she touched herself down there filled her mind. Was there something wrong with her? Cara had said that God made her body and if He didn't want her to have pleasure why would he have given her that special place. Why didn't she have that special place? Why did it hurt? Maybe she had done it wrong.
Sister Gabrielle put the bookmark back in the novel, still on the first page of Chapter Twelve, and placed the book on the end table. She lay staring into space trying to make sense out of the day. Sister Gabrielle laid her hand on her crotch. She kept it there. Her heart pounded. She was touching herself where she shouldn't. Over the nightgown, but still touching herself. Other than shame and guilt, she didn't feel anything. Surely nothing Cara had felt. She pressed down and rubbed, feeling her prickly pubic hair through the nightgown and her labia squishing. Nothing else. Other than shame. And inquisitiveness. Sister Gabrielle taught English, and loved it, but she had always enjoyed math. She loved solving problems. Saw them as a challenge.
Sister Gabrielle placed her feet flat on the mattress and pushed back onto her shoulders, arching her back, lifting her butt off the mattress. She dragged the long nightgown up to her waist and fell back down. She lay still, staring up at the ceiling knowing she was exposed from the waist down. More shame filled her.
A tentative hand moved to her groin. The abundance of pubic hair tickled her palm before being flattened. Her legs were pressed together, pushing against one another. She relaxed them, spreading them a little. That created a gap between her thighs. Her fingers curled around her vulva, the middle one sliding between the labia. Sister Gabrielle jerked her hand away. Catching her sinning hand with her other hand, she clutched it at her chest.
This was wrong. She kept telling herself that over and over again. It's a sin. She dug her chin into her chest and looked down her body. The nightgown was bunched at her waist. Beyond it the mass of dark curly hair. She scooted back so that she was sitting up against the pillows, staring at the bare wall at the foot of the bed. Cara's blissful face looked back at her. She slapped a hand over her eyes. The face was still there. What was the magic that gave the girl that heavenly feeling?
Sister Gabrielle looked down her body again. She slid her heels to her butt and spread her raised knees. She bent forward, studying her vagina for the first time in her life, not that she could see much with all the hair covering it. She thought back to what she had done in the office with her habit tucked under her chin and her underwear around her thighs. She placed trembling fingers on both sides of her slit and pressed down to get the hair out of the way while pushing outward. There it was again. At the top of the cleft between the parted hair. The little pearl. She was sure that was the area Cara had been rubbing over her panties. She must have been rubbing her pearl. That was the present God had bestowed her. And Sister Gabrielle had one too so God had given her one as well. She placed two fingertips from her other hand on the pearl and rubbed vigorously before she could change her mind.
"Ouch."
Sister Gabrielle's hands flew to her sides. Her fingers curled into fists. Her body was not like Cara's. God had made her differently.
Chapter 4
After a restless, troubled sleep, Sister Gabrielle moped through her classes. Her experience teaching the subject was the only thing that got her through the day. But when Cara was in the classroom, she had a harder time concentrating. Losing her train of thought, she stumbled over words. She even called another girl Cara once to her humiliating embarrassment. At the time, her eyes shot to Cara who smiled sweetly.
The days went by. Each night, Sister Gabrielle tried reading but couldn't. Her comfortable routine was replaced by another. She'd lie in bed staring up at the ceiling. More times than not, she'd jump out of bed and drop to her knees, facing the cross on the wall, and prayed for forgiveness. And to help her understand. She had been so sure of her faith her whole life, but now questioned God. How could He make her body differently than Cara's? Why would he allow Cara to experience pleasure when touching herself down there, but not her? Not that she should receive pleasure. It was a sin. But why did Cara? That's what she asked, but what she really wanted to know was what was wrong with her?
On Friday after morning prayers, Sister Gabrielle was heading back to the convent.
"Sister Gabrielle," the Reverend Mother called out. Sister Gabrielle stopped and spun around. "Aren't you going in the wrong direction?"
The confused nun looked around. All the other nuns were walking toward the schools. "Oh yes, I don't know what I was thinking."
"Are you all right? You seem out of sorts lately."
"No, Reverend Mother, I'm fine. I just haven't been sleeping. I better get to class."
Sister Gabrielle rushed past the Reverend Mother, not slowing down until she had caught up to the other teachers. She went to her first period class and waited for the children to arrive. That day was worse than the others. She mixed up students' names, assigned the wrong chapter to read in one class, and was so distraught in the class with Cara that she could barely get through it. Something had to be done.
After the classes ended for the day, Sister Gabrielle sat at her office desk. She wasn't working on lesson plans. Wasn't grading papers. Wasn't doing administrative tasks. She sat with her elbows on the desktop, her hands cupping both sides of her face holding her head up, and her eyes fixed on the closed door. Finally, she heard the knock.
"Come in."
Cara opened the door and took one step into the office. Her hand remained on the doorknob, a worried look on her face.
"You wanted to see me, Sister?"
"Yes, come in and sit down."
"Did I do something wrong?"
"Please close the door and sit down."
Cara hesitated for a moment before closing the door. She stood there, hugging her bookbag to her body, chewing her bottom lip. Sister Gabrielle pointed to the chairs on the other side of her desk. Only then did the young girl move, taking small, deliberate steps. She dropped her bookbag on the floor as she plopped down in the chair. She sat with shoulders slumped, wringing her hands in her lap.
"Am I in trouble?" Cara asked.
"I want to talk to you about the last time we met."
"Oh, Sister Gabrielle, I told you I was sorry. I misunderstood you."
"I want you to do it again."
"What!" Cara sat up straight. "Omigod! I can't. Not in front of you. Why?"
"I have my reasons."
"Will I get into trouble?"
"No. Not if you do it."
Sister Gabrielle stood up and walked to the door. Cara's eyes followed her every step. She turned the lock. Click. Cara flinched. Then she turned and went back to her chair and sat down at her desk. Clasping her hands under her chin, Sister Gabrielle waited with her eyes boring into Cara.
The room was deathly quiet. Cara stared at Sister Gabrielle for what must have seemed an eternity to the young girl, but was only a dozen or so seconds, before grabbing the bottom of her plaid skirt. Sister Gabrielle watched the skirt rise up the girl's skinny legs all the way to her waist. Today her panties were nylon. Light green. Cara's trembling hand slowly made its way to the front of her panties. She yanked it back.
"Why are you making me do this?" Cara asked.
"I have my reasons. Please continue."
Cara placed two fingertips on the same spot she had the other day while spreading her legs, and then her fingers moved side to side. Cara's face was beet red. Sister Gabrielle stared at the girl's fingers. Studying the location. The movement. Unlike the previous time, Cara's eyes were open and boring into the nun.
"Doesn't that hurt?" Sister Gabrielle asked.
"Huh?" The fingers stopped moving. "No. It usually feels good."
"But not today?" The girl shook her head. "Why not?"
"I'm embarrassed. Why are you making me do this?"
"I want to learn. I want to know why it doesn't hurt."
"Why would it hurt?"
The conversation was odd, but not as strange as having a young girl sitting in a nun's office with her skirt bunched at her waist, her legs spread, and her fingers resting on the front of her green panties.
Sister Gabrielle took a deep breath and let the air out. "I tried it and it hurt."
"You did? Nuns do it!"
"I tried it. I wanted to know what it felt like. But it hurt."
"It shouldn't hurt. Maybe you did it wrong."
"That's why you're here. To show me the right way. Who taught you?"
"No one taught me. I just, um, did it and learned what felt good."
"Then show me what feels good. I need to know."
Cara stared at Sister Gabrielle as her fingers moved. Slowly. Side to side. Her fingers pressed down on the green panties and soon her legs spread further. Her eyes closed and her mouth opened. Her breathing got heavier.
Sister Gabrielle alternated between watching the girl's fingers and her face. That angelic look was back. She wondered if the girl had forgotten about her, caught up in her own rapture. Sister Gabrielle stood, walked around the desk, and sat in the chair next to Cara. Cara's fingers sped up and her breathing became ragged.
Sister Gabrielle held the cross hanging around her neck to keep it from swinging and leaned forward to get a closer look. She was inches away from Cara's rubbing fingers. Three fingers now. She was sure that was where she had touched herself. There was also an unfamiliar odor.
Sister Gabrielle sat up and grabbed Cara's forearm. The girl's eyes popped open and she gawked at the nun.
"May I ask another favor?" Sister Gabrielle asked.
Cara took deep breaths, panting, before calming down enough to speak. "What?"
"I can't really see what you're doing with your underwear on."
Cara's eyes opened wide. "What do you mean?"
"Please take them off."
"Omigod! Here? With you here?"
"I can't see what you're touching."
"But you'll see my pu— My privates."
"Like you said the other day, we're both girls." Sister Gabrielle squeezed Cara's forearm. "I'm asking as a favor. You don't have to do it, but ever since that day, I've been a wreck. I can't sleep, can't concentrate. I can't do my job. I can't do anything. I'm jittery all the time and confused. I'm lost. I pray all the time for guidance, but nothing helps."
"That's what I did."
"What?"
"Prayed. I didn't get any answers either. I know how you feel so, okay, I'll do it, but I won't lie, it's uncomfortable with you here."
"Because I'm a woman."
"Because you're a nun. I mean, you're sitting right next to me in your nun's clothes. That's kind of intimidating. It was hard enough to touch myself over my panties."
"Would it make you more comfortable if I wasn’t a nun?"
"Definitely!"
"Then for now I'm not a nun."
Sister Gabrielle stood up and removed the cross hanging around her neck and laid it on the desk. Then, starting at her headpiece, she removed her habit. She did it quickly, knowing if she paused for a second she'd lose her nerve. Soon she was standing in front of her student in her bra and underwear.
"Wow, do all nuns were such big panties?" Cara said.
Sister Gabrielle blushed. "This is what they provide. It's comfortable."
Her underwear reached her bellybutton. It completely covered her buttocks and then some. And it drooped, unlike Cara's tight-fitting bikini panties. The bra was full and thick, covering her entire breasts. Sister Gabrielle desperately wanted to cover herself, but she kept her arms at her sides and sat down.
Cara stuck her thumbs inside the waistband of her panties and, lifting her butt off the chair, dragged them to her knees.
"Oh my," Sister Gabrielle said, "you haven't grown hair yet."