Jek Likes The Nun
(he’s a fucking sinner)
Jek arrived early for the shelf building job with Sister Lenora.
He wanted time to get a fire going and warm the place before she showed up.
And also plan out the job. And think. And brace for impact.
It wasn’t an all-day job, but he knew himself well enough to be prepared to justify making it one should he want.
He checked his watch. She had ten minutes to arrive and prove she was habitually punctual.
It was on his list of things he liked about her.
He’d been returning to that list, looking for negatives to add to it.
He managed three and they were actually all positives that he didn’t like.
Her being so giving of herself being number one.
He eyed the closet walls where the shelves were going then walked to the single window at the far end. He glanced out at the misty morning, already ready for the lunch he had planned with her. Gumbo at the small school park.
In the middle of wondering what she’d wear, he spotted her.
More like his dick spotted her. “Damn,” he muttered with a grin.
He’d hoped she’d wear something besides her habit.
It was still a dress, down to the ground but it was the color of burlap with a dark green apron over it and a cute fabric carpenters’ belt over that.
Fuck, she was fun to stare at. But the absence of her head covering is what did it for him.
He’d wondered way too often over her hair.
He knew it was dark. Now he knew it was dark and very long.
She wore it in two thick braids that made her look like a sweet little carpenter’s angel. With full breasts.
Fuck, he was wicked. And wanting to have confession with her was the most wicked thing of all.
He remembered he’d decided on calling her just Sister. Mostly to keep her feeling safe. It was shorter than Sister Lenora and more intimate. But not as intimate as Lenora. Which was a beautiful name. One worth saving for special occasions.
She was climbing the steps when he opened the door. “Morning Sister,” he greeted. “You broke your punctual rule.”
Her bright smile vanished with wide eyes.
“As in you’re early.” He stepped aside with a chuckle. “You’re usually right on time. I came early and made coffee. Got the chill out of the air.”
Her smile returned with one of her big laughs. “I decided to dress for the job, and boy did that turn out to be a most difficult decision!”
He made his way to the kitchenette, wondering if those big laughs were nervous ones. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because I never have to decide such a thing! I kind of forgot how!”
Another big laugh. Definitely possibly nervous. What else would she be nervous about? He added it to his Lenora list.
“You take cream and sugar?”
“Oh, yes please. I normally don’t drink coffee, but I’m learning to like it here as it seems to be the main staple of conversation. Which I love,” she hurried, always mindful of not being misunderstood or offensive.
“That it is. There’s lemonade and a pitcher of water in the little fridge, I noticed. If you prefer something else. I brought gumbo for lunch.”
A quick inhale. “Gumbo! Lucky you!”
He handed her the coffee cup, putting the handle in her reach. “I brought enough for both of us.”
“Oh, thank you!” She took it and brought it to her mouth, taking a careful taste.
Jek watched her mouth on the cup. He was obsessed with her lips. He could sit and watch her mouth all fucking day. “Good?” he checked when she looked at him getting her smile and nods.
“So good, thank you.” She eyed his body. “Is this your work uniform?”
He had to laugh. “Not really. I wear what I work in and work in whatever I wear.”
“So practical!” she said. “My habit works the same way. Only it’s not always easy to work in.”
“I imagine not.” He turned and poured him a cup. “We got a few minutes to spare to get our caffeine. I’ll pull you a chair by the stove.”
“I can do it!” she chirped, hurrying to show how hard she’d be to spoil, sliding a chair near the stove.
He remembered his idea about her phone. “I was told the Sister’s have phones. Was thinking I could get your number to help coordinate schedules.”
“Oh, I do, yes,” she said, fighting to get her apron strings tucked out of the way.
“I got it, before you spill your brew,” he said, setting his cup down. “Turn around.”
She flustered mildly then surrendered with a “Thank you. I’m not used to these strings.”
“I’ll tie it so it doesn’t come undone when the wind breathes on it.”
Her big laugh made him grin. “Perfect description! I’ve been dying to ask you so many questions,” she said, holding her cup in both hands as he took his time in her personal air space.
“Ask away.” Happy to kick off the intel swap. His own list of need to knows were really needing to know. Her scent. Her taste. The feel of her. Texture. Temperature. Weight. “All done,” he announced, grabbing his cup and pulling a chair next to hers.
“Thank you for that,” she said, taking her seat.
“I have to admit that the Sister’s are very gossipy!
But not in a mean way,” she assured with sweet conviction.
“We just like cataloging people, it’s a useful habit, actually.
We got that from assigning strengths where needed.
Every sister was placed where she best performed unless it was training, then she was put where she wasn’t comfortable. ”
“Smart,” he said, studying her tiny fingers wrapped around the white mug. No nail polish, no make-up ever.
Did she shave?
“So, where did I fit in the catalog?”
Her eyes widened with wonder and a smile. “That’s the problem, you’re very hard to catalog. But not to me,” she said with pride. “Now I’m needing to confirm I’m right.”
He had to laugh at that. “So confident, Sister.” He aimed his gaze at the flame in the potbelly stove. “Ask,” he said, sipping his coffee.
She beamed, thrilled, turning her whole body toward him. “These may seem silly but there’s a reason for them.”
His brows rose, interested. Slightly worried.
“Favorite color,” she began.
Hmm. So silly he didn’t know the answer.
“Overall color. I realize that’s actually a hard question, sorry.”
“Black,” he decided.
“Okay. Least favorite color.”
“Uuuum. Olive.”
“And favorite food.”
“Gumbo.”
She laughed at that, “Mine too! Now least favorite food.”
“Green peas.”
This got him a fond smile. “Favorite thing to drink with your meal.”
He stretched his legs and crossed his ankles. “I don’t drink with my meal.”
She angled her look. “After your meal?”
“Milk.” He grinned at her. “A big glass. All at once.”
He marveled that something like that would delight her.
“As a child, when your mother needed something done right the first time, which of her children did she call?”
Oh, good one. “Depends on the task.”
“Something simple,” she clarified. “Take out the trash.”
“I think me.”
“Why?”
Hmmm. “I think because I just do it. And I don’t make her wait.” He eyed her. “You have this list memorized? I might be kind of impressed.”
“I do!” she admitted, suddenly remembering she had coffee and taking a sip.
“That’s it?”
“No!” she assured. “Not even close but I won’t ask you all the questions in one session.”
He let go a big chuckle. “You are very gossipy.”
She did her loud laugh, and he grinned, fascinated with her.
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Ohhhh, round two, hard hitting.”
“You don’t have to answer,” she hurried with wide eyes. “I was supposed to say that starting!” She found that very funny and laughed at herself.
“I’m twenty-nine.”
Her shock was sharp as she stood. “I was right!”
He chuckled, eyeing his coffee then her. “Very good,” he praised.
She sat back down. “Girlfriend?”
“Ohhh, getting heavy. What did you guess?” he wondered, angling a look at her.
She shook her head with a giddy laugh. “Not telling!”
“Yes—”
She launched from her chair in triumph.
“…but not anymore,” he finished, watching her celebration free-fall. “Sorry.”
She sat heavily, curiosity overtaking her pretty face.
“We broke up when all this… stuff started going down,” he said. “She had family she needed to see about in Alabama.”
She nodded, her gaze all over his, full of eager questions. “Were you sad?”
He held her stare for a few seconds then looked at the fire. “I mean… I wasn’t thrilled.”
“Have you ever been heartbroken?” she asked, her tone curious but softer.
“Have you veered off the list, Sister?” he wondered, not really bothered.
She smiled gently and nodded with an innocent guilt. “I like knowing things about people that aren’t my business. It’s one of my vices. I’m nosy to a fault, honest to a fault, trusting to a fault, and…” She squinted, trying to recall.
“Pretty to a fault?”
She instantly sobered, eyes locking on his before jerking her whole body to the stove. “No,” she said quietly.
“Disagree,” he muttered, grinning at how that affected her. “Modest to a fault? Selfless to a fault? Giving to a fault?”
She giggled and looked at him. “Those are all virtues,” she informed, finding that funny.
“Ever hear of too much of a good thing?”
She smiled again, like he was peculiar but fun. “Maybe.”
“Too much sun, too much water, too much cake.”
“Yes. I see what you mean,” she conceded, angling her gaze at the air in thought. “All things in moderation,” she adjusted, her smile and nods back on him. “What’s your greatest vice?”
He studied her. “We still veering?”
She again nodded with that barely smile as if knowing she was safe to go off course with him. Fuck, he loved that. Should he tell her she was his vice? Probably not. She’d likely argue that she’s his virtue. Both were true.
He focused. Vices. Greatest one. Before her, he’d never have picked it. “Isolation.”
She was quiet and he looked at her, finding her in a deep pondering, brows drawn. “Why?”
Her pure curiosity made it easy to answer. “Probably fear of connecting.”
She stared at him, her gaze so fucking open he wanted to dive in. “It is very terrifying,” she whispered then suddenly looked at the stove.