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The Best of 2013

Naked Grief
by Arthur Chappell

Sister
by Robert Buckley



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By Robert Buckley
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Angel

Sister

by Robert Buckley

 

the softer side of romanceWhat a silly goddamned place this was. Maybe he'd have enjoyed it in his twenties when he was pretty goddamned silly himself. But for now he couldn't wait to hop on the plane and go home.

He looked out the window at the spectacle, faux pyramids and sphinx, the phony Eiffel Tower. Why did they want to come here at their age, a bumbling bunch of old farts? It was Charlie's idea, and Rog and Mort just fell into line. Charlie said they'd have a good time, but Charlie could have a good time in a dentist's waiting room. Now the others already were broke and embarrassed after trying to flirt with those showgirls – giant girls, all legs. When girls that tall looked down their noses at you it was from a long way off. They giggled at them as they slunk away. He begged off when the guys insisted on another foray around town.

He drew the curtain and looked around his hotel room. His loneliness hit him hard then. Maybe he should go down to the lounge, have himself a drink and then call it a day. He was going home tomorrow – thank God.

A soft rap at the door perked him up. Charlie must have forgotten his card key again.

He opened the door and was momentarily startled to find a petite, young nun at his threshold.

"Sister?"

She waved a yardstick in his face. "I've brought my ruler to lay across your knuckles, you dirty little boy."

"Huh?"

"Do you want me to slap your face? I'll teach you some manners, that's for sure."

"Uh, sister, I think there's been some mistake ..."

"There certainly has; I'll have you pull down those trousers and then I'll redden your cheeks."

"I don't think so. What is this all about?"

The nun exhaled a sigh of exasperation. "Look, you called me, I'm here. Jesus, I hope you don't have Alzheimer's."

The truth was, he wondered himself. What the hell was she talking about?

The sound of the elevator door opening drew her attention. A quick glance, and then she pushed past him into the room.

"Sorry," she said. "Hotel security. Now, you did call my agency, didn't you?

"Uh ... no? At least I don't think so."

"Excuse me." She drew a cellphone from a valise.

"Hi, Dottie? Yeah, it's me. Look, did you get the address right for that outcall? There's a guy here who doesn't have a clue. Uh-huh ... aw, shit! Not again. Fuck, if I ever get my hands on that creep ... aw, dammit. No ... my whole night's shot. No ... I can't drive all the way out there now. Damn, that's three times in two weeks. Yeah ... okay. Thanks."

She clicked her phone and sighed. Then she looked at him, her face a frown framed in her wimple. She was really pretty, he thought.

"Look, sir, I'm sorry. There's been a huge screw up. Sorry to bother you ... uh ... unless, since I'm here, I can do something for you."

"What?" He stared dumbly at her a moment, then the capsule of understanding burst in his head.

"Oh, I get it. You're a ... I mean ... you're a girl who ... uh ... well ... works nights, I guess."

She laughed. It was a sweet tinkling sort of laugh. "I never heard it put that way before."

"Yeah, well, please, I don't want you to think I wouldn't want to, but ... truth is ... I can't."

"Hey, I've got some pills ... they're really good and ..."

"No, miss. I've tried them all. It's hopeless."

"Oh? You sure?"

He nodded. "I wish I could have ... for my wife. After I retired we didn't have much time together."

"Oh ... sorry."

He nodded. "Anyway, I could never just have ... well, what I mean is, I always needed to be at least a little bit in love with a girl before I could ..."

"Oh. Well ... that's sweet."

"So, how come you ended up at my door tonight?"

Her shoulders heaved with a sigh. "Some creep has been making phony appointments for outcalls. Thanks to that asshole I'm going to have trouble meeting some bills this month."

"I wish I could help, but it really would be a waste of time."

"Sir, this whole night's been a waste of time. I'll get going. Sorry again for bothering you."

She started past him toward the door. Without warning the loneliness seized him again.

"Hey, miss."

She turned. "Yeah?"

"Maybe ... um ... would you let me rub your back?"

"Rub my back?"

"Yeah. Um, I only have about two-hundred in cash right now. Would that be enough?"

"You want to pay me two-hundred bucks to rub my back."

"Well, your, uh, derriere too, and maybe your legs. Would that be enough?"

She chuckled. "I dunno, it's not exactly on the price list. You sure? That's all?"

He blushed. "I used to like giving girls back rubs ... even better than sex. Before I lost her, I used to do it for my wife all the time; it's all I could do for her. Hey, every girl I ever rubbed said I was really good at it."

"Two hundred bucks sounds real good right now. Okay. Give me a second."

She began to undress. He thought she would take forever as she doffed the entire nun's habit. It had to be authentic, there were so many pieces.

Finally she stood naked except for her black, textured, thigh-high stockings. Her hair was short and red, above and below, and her skin creamy pale. Her attempt to shield her breasts with her arms surprised him, considering the line of work she was in, but he thought it endearing.

"Um, shall I just lie here on the bed?"

"Yes, please."

"You know ... you can touch me all over, if you want."

"Just your back for now. God, miss, you have beautiful skin."

"Thank you," she said as she climbed onto the bed and laid down on her belly.

A sudden pang of shame hit him. "Uh, you don't have to ... I mean ... an old man like me. You can still have the money ..."

"Hey, it's okay. Knock yourself out."

"Okay," he said, his voice high and scratchy. "I've never ever ... done this ... I mean, paid a girl ..."

"It's okay."

"Well, all right."

He sat beside her. His hands trembled as he held them just below her shoulder blades. Then he pressed his palms to her back and the sensation nearly overwhelmed him.

"Oh, my God. You are so soft. It's been so long since I've touched a girl's back."

She wiggled like a cat getting comfortable.

He began to course his hands over her silken shoulders and sides, pressing his thumbs to the hillocks of her spine and gauging the depth of the dimples flanking her tailbone. He felt the warmth of his hands drain into her, then drew them down and over the slopes of her behind, letting his fingers play along her inner thighs. It didn't take long for him to fall into a rhythm and his mind settle into a coddling cloud of sensation.

The girl sighed, then moaned. "Hey ... you're good."

He didn't answer, but worked his thumbs and fingers like a musician playing a fine instrument.

She's so pretty, he thought.

Perhaps he should be ashamed. The girl could be his daughter, his granddaughter even. But shame had fled and affection had taken its place.

The he realized she was snoring. He smiled, leaned down and kissed her once on each ass cheek.

*    *    *

She woke with a start. A comforter covered her.

He sat beside the bed. He had also been dozing.

"Oh," he said. "Geesh, didn't realize I'd zonked."

"What? ... I ... oh, wow." She held her head in one hand.

"You dozed off, miss."

"I did? Never did that before. Not on the job, anyway."

She sat and stretched, pushing out her chest, her pink nipples straining toward him.

"I feel ... great."

He nodded. "I'm glad. Thank you, miss. That was ... I mean, you're wonderful."

She smiled and glanced at her watch. "I gotta go."

"Here," he said, and handed her the cash.

She fetched her valise and dropped the money inside. The valise also yielded another set of clothes, slacks and a demure black top. She stuffed the nun costume inside and stood.

"Thanks," she said."

"Thank you. Be careful now, okay?"

"You're a nice guy," she said and smiled. Then she turned toward the door.

He watched it close behind her.

Later he lay in bed, content, as her warmth and scent lingered.

_______
2013 Robert Buckley. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

Bio: Who is Robert Buckley? Read his bio on the Erotica Readers & Writers Association website.

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