Saint Bad Boy

by Chance, Abby

  “Not bad,” commented Sister Janice, while biting a piece of the dry chicken. When you are in the middle of an African village, thousands of miles away from a supermarket, your expectations are somewhat tempered.

  I heard Sister Carmen call from across the dining hall. Both Sister Janice and I turned our heads at the shrill voice. “Come sit with us,” she said. Father Anton waved at us as well.

  Sister Janice stood up with her plate in hand. She took a step and then looked back at me. “Are you coming?” she asked.

  “No, it’s okay. Enjoy yourself,” I said.

  “How’s your hand?”

  “It’s fine. Go on, Sister. I need to spend time with my thoughts anyway.”

  Sister Janice smiled and joined Father Anton, Sister Carmen, and some of the volunteer staff at their table.

  My plastic fork broke as I awkwardly tried to pick up my large chicken breast with the flimsy utensil. I let out a frustrated sigh and picked up the breast with my hand. As soon as I bit into the chicken I felt a tap on my left shoulder. I dropped the chicken onto my plate as I was startled by E’tienne, who was standing right behind me. He was as swift and nimble as a spirit, because I didn’t even notice when he got up from his table.

  “May I?” he asked me, pointing to Sister Janice’s vacant spot on the bench.

  I took a quick glance at the table where Sister Janice was sitting. She looked at me while E’tienne stood next to me waiting for my answer. We made eye contact and she gave me a warm smile.

  “Sure,” I said, looking at E’tienne as my body slightly shivered with excitement and slight nervousness.

  E’tienne sat down next to me. His eyes were captivating, they’d make even the most average man handsome if he were born with the same eyes.

  “How is your hand?” he asked, without the slightest hint of insincerity and with his melodic accent.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “A little sting, nothing to worry about.”

  “You know, Mantis’ don’t bite,” he said, holding back a chuckle.

  “They don’t?” My voice was slightly trembling.

  “No, but I won’t say anything,” he said, with a wink—a cute one, not the shady type of wink. “I promise.”

  My chest heaved with a sigh of relief, and I gently threw my head back in soft laughter. “So E’tienne, are you enjoying your stay?”

  “I am having a wonderful time here. My father was from Zaire. I try to visit when I can and make a difference in these kids’ lives.”

  “Well, that’s wonderful of you and the Lord smiles upon you because of your efforts,” I said. I went out of my way to look toward the floor every five seconds. I swear his eyes had built-in tracking beams.

  E’tienne looked around the dining hall and took a deep breath and his brows drooped with concern.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “How old are you? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

  That was an odd question, I thought. Not too many people asked nuns their ages. Maybe because most of them were on the gray side and it wasn’t polite to ask a woman her age, no matter what her position in life was. Could be because I was on the younger side of the curve and I made him feel comfortable.

  I lowered my brow and gave him a incredulous stare. “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, well...” he smiled. “...you’re so young, you know?”

  “Okay, go on...”

  “I can relate with you...that’s what I’m trying to say, I guess.”

  E’tienne’s neck was sunken into his tense shoulders and he placed the rigid, interlocked fingers of his large hands on the table.

  “Is there something wrong?” I asked.

  E’tienne tugged on the collar of his pristine, Adidas-brand T-shirt. “It’s hot in here, do you mind if I ask you to take a walk with me outside?”

  Once again, I looked at the table with Father Anton and Sister Janice before getting up. They were entranced in conversation. My heart began racing uncontrollably and I felt my blood pressure rising, but in a good way. You know, the type that flushes your neck and your cheeks and gives you a slight euphoric rush.

  “Okay, I’ll step out with you—but just for a little bit. I need to get to sleep soon. Sister Janice told me I have to be awake at five in the morning to help build another bungalow,” I reminded E’tienne.

  We both stepped out of the dining hall. I didn’t realize how loud it was in there until we exited into the quiet, temporarily vacant village. A bluish hue blanketed the village as it absorbed the glow coming from the remarkably large full moon.

  E’tienne kept his hands in his pockets and walked with a submissive, hunched posture. He looked like a puppy dog, with his sagging brows and the constant licking of his pursed lips. I kept looking over my shoulder; paranoid over the possibility of someone seeing us and letting their imaginations run wild.

  “E’tienne, what’s the matter?” I asked. “It seems that there is something eating you alive.”

  He looked over his shoulder as well and then took another sharp glance behind the last bungalow before we walked into a wide open yard which the missionaries set up as a soccer field.

  “I have a confession to make, Sister.”

  “Did you go to Father Anton about this?”

  “No, I can’t..,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Why me?” I said, with slight worry. I wasn’t comfortable with deep-seated confessions, because I wasn’t comfortable with the skeletons in my own closet.

  He stopped mid-gait and turned to me. “You cannot tell anyone, ever, okay?”

  Here was a chiseled athlete, a well conditioned warrior who was instantly vulnerable. Few men on earth possessed his confidence. But there he stood in front of me, seemingly with the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. His unguarded stance; arms swinging gently at his side; his blue eyes welling with liquid anguish. Through his thick, soft lips arose a voice which was an octave above a whisper. His revelation fluttering into my ear. “I purposely fixed games, big games.”

  “How do you fix games? Like with a wrench?” I asked, perplexed at the jock vernacular.

  “You don’t know what fixed means?” he asked. “Maybe my English isn’t good.”

  “No, it’s just that I don’t follow sports, so I don’t know what you mean. I think I might have heard it before.”

  “I manipulated events in the game to make money for myself and people who bet on a certain outcome of a game.”

  I immediately stepped away from our overestimated comfort zone and gasped. “You what?”

  “Please sister, help me. It’s eating me inside.”

  “Why would you tell me this, how can I fix something like this? The children...the children that look up to you. What if they found out?”

  E’tienne turned around and began pacing the field with his arms crossed and his head transfixed on the stars above. I shook my head and had no clue how to handle such a revelation. Was it possible to lie with your body? He didn’t lie with words but rather with the play on the field.

  “Why would you do this, E’tienne?”

  “Russians...” he said, as his blue eyes bulged out of their sockets. “Some bad men paid me half a year’s salary if I threw the game against Spain. I purposely missed a penalty kick that would’ve tied the match...I got greedy.” E’tienne dropped to the floor into a crouch and placed his hand over his eyes.

  I bent down a little and placed my hand on his back. “You can ask for forgiveness. But it would have to be done through Father Anton. I don’t have the authority to grant you your confession.”

  E’tienne continued staring down at the dirt field. His voice was frayed with guilt. “I can’t. He thinks I’m a hero to the country. He would probably die of a heart attack if he knew I were a fraud.”

  “I’m afraid there is nothing I can do.”

  E’tienne stood up and squared his solid pectorals. With sudden defiance he said, “Who said you can’t grant me forgiveness?�
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  “The church,” I softly scolded.

  “I guess I don’t need forgiveness, my work here is my penance,” he said, as he began walking back to the village in a huff.

  “What?” I asked, surprised at his swift change in demeanor. See, what made E’tienne such a great athlete was his ability to justify his actions and then learn from his mistakes. However, E’tienne’s transgressions were unforgivable if they leaked to the public. They had to be addressed with someone and with God.

  I grabbed his arm. I immediately felt what wired strength was when my skin touched his. My mouth opened. Saliva started building up inside of my mouth when I realized how strong he was. My grip was no match for his benign movements. “E’tienne, stop,” I exclaimed.

  He turned around, revealing his watery eyes. “I’ll pray for you,” I proclaimed. “It’s the best I can do.”

  “Will I be forgiven?” he asked.

  My eyes naturally shifted their focus away from E’tienne as I entered a moment of deep thought. I had secrets, too. Up until his question I thought I had achieved closure without revealing my sins. “I have sought forgiveness without a confession and the Lord has granted it to me,” I said. “I’m at peace now.”

  “You’re young, beautiful and innocent,” E’tienne said. I blushed at his compliment. “Your sins are nowhere near as bad as mine.”

  “If you only knew,” I mumbled.

  “How bad could they be?” he asked, with a higher pitched and curious inflection.

  I shook my head. But there was something about E’tienne that made me want to reveal more. “I’ve done worse than cheating on a simple game,” I confided. “It’s true that what you have done might cause more grief to more people but it still is not as bad as what I have done in the eyes of God.”

  E’Tienne squinted his eyes and stopped looking inward as he approached me. He looked decidedly curious about my revelation. “Please tell, I will not judge.”

  “I can’t,” I said, shaking my head.

  “But I told you what I did—the least you can do is return the sentiment by trusting me.”

  I felt guilty about the events in the hot tub that one night, but there was a part of me that wanted to let E’Tienne know what I did. I wanted to see if he would respond with disgust, arousal, or neutrality. Telling him what I did was a definite risk, but my endorphins and my adrenaline compelled me to reveal all. I felt a sudden rush of blood to my chest and groin. I opened my mouth and said, “I participated in group sex.”

  E’Tienne’s eyes grew large and a smile slowly began to overtake the grimness he had on his face. “Uh-huh,” he said.

  “I know...I know...” I shook my head. “I’m a horrible human being.”

  E’Tienne came over and put his hand underneath my chin and softly tilted my head upward. “There is nothing sinful about expressing yourself sexually.”

  I turned away from him. “I can’t...”

  “Can’t what?” he asked.

  “Thinking about sex, you being here...I don’t want to lose control.”

  E’tienne crossed his arms and stepped away from me, giving me space to keep pacing. I peeked around him. I wanted to see if anyone had left the dining hall.

  “Look, you can’t tell anyone, okay?” I pleaded.

  “But you can’t tell anyone what I did, either. I mean, I know you wouldn’t, which is why I told you, but how do I go about seeking forgiveness?”

  I felt horrible because I ceased caring about E’tienne’s problems once I realized we were alone. Far away from from everyone else who didn’t understand the spoils of youth, or how ridiculous it was to lock up all human desires to feel.

  “What do you think of me, E’tienne?” I asked, with an inner confidence that rose inexplicably from the blood boiling throughout my body.

  E’tienne shook his head. “I can’t.”

  “Yes you can, I saw how you looked at me in my bungalow.”

  “Sister...I...I...this is so wrong...” he stammered.

  “We need to talk, but we also need to keep walking,” I said.

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked.

  I had a strange strength overcome my entire body and mind. My mind was set. I wanted to taste E’tienne’s flesh. I wanted to surrender myself to him and the urges.

  I turned around and started walking toward a building at the other end of the field. I turned my head over my shoulder, and gave E’tienne a raise of my eyebrow, as I let him know that it was okay to begin seeing me as someone who was ready to submit. “Follow me,” I said.

  E’tienne flashed a smile of a man who was in disbelief. But I could tell he was eager to pursue something more from me because the loose fabric on his basketball shorts began to bulge out a little.

  Chapter Five

  We entered an empty shack where the mission kept their sporting and maintenance equipment. Against the wall, a concrete work bench which had a hammer and nails resting on top of its cold, flat surface, was illuminated by the moonlight through the single window inside the old, wooden, musty rustic construction.

  I entered first. I looked back at E’tienne, and flashed him a pair of acquiescent green eyes, half closed, and which signaled the need for his immediate touch. I rested my stomach against the bench and widened my stance a little, which gave my backside a natural lift.

  E’tienne softly closed the rickety old door behind him. He stood still, staring at me in my position of estrus. “Sister Jessie, I don’t know about this,” he said, while pulling back his scalp with his hand, his fingers resting and then sliding off his dreads.

  I spread my legs farther apart and looked up at the moon that shone through the single window, eagerly awaiting E’tienne’s first move. “I will not protest,” I said, as my chest began panting back and forth with an anticipatory rhythm.

  I heard his footsteps lightly tapping the hard, uneven concrete as he approached me from behind. His warm aura draped over me. His intensifying breaths began syncing with mine. E’tienne’s arm brushed under my armpit; his large hand grappled my right breast, temporarily transferring his primitive desires through his gentle grip.

  I hastily unbuttoned my shirt, E’tienne pulled it off my back with fervent yanks. “Don’t tear it,” I said, in between my palpitating breaths. E’tienne’s other hand began pulling up on my long skirt. The skirt draped over his forearm as he gently squeezed by ass with his brutish hand. His grips were strong and sensual, his conditioning evident even through the tips of his fingers.

  “I want your fingers inside of me,” I whispered. I wanted to experience what I felt in the hot tub that one night, but this time I would hold still, and hope for E’tienne to pick up the intensity of his insertion.

  “I’m sorry if I’m too wet,” I said, while taking a quick glance over my shoulder. His brow was crinkled in lustful concentration as he peered at my backside.

  “I don’t mind,” he said, with a pleasurable smile.

  E’tienne first rubbed his fingers up my thigh, squeezing them intermittently. My skin was sensitive in that area of my body, which triggered more of my natural lubricant to seep through my cotton briefs. Two of his fingers pulled the briefs to the side. He immediately began circling my asshole with the tip of his finger, rubbing my own juices around it.

  “There you go,” I said, as I tilted my head back and bit my lower lip.

  He let go of my breast and crouched down pulling down my briefs all the way to the floor. He gripped both of my thighs and worked his hands up to both of my ass cheeks and separated them both from each other. His moist tongue began encircling my asshole. The muscles in his tongue were as coordinated as the rest of his body, as it hit all the right notes by brushing the lower end of my vagina, then up toward the nerve endings, which I had no idea I had, around my sphincter.

  I couldn’t stand the teasing any more and I bellowed, “Finger-bang me, please.”

  E’tienne inserted his finger into my muculent and throbbing eyelet. I began pan
ting wildly as his finger rubbed the roof of my vagina.

  “Faster,” I requested heedlessly.

  E’tienne inserted two of his fingers and squeezed my hip with his other hand. He held me firmly in my position. I was steadily supported as he began to thrust both of his fingers with an uncontrollable vigor. I was so wet, the friction between his fingers and my lips began making a noise like when someone tries to squeeze the last bit of lotion out of a bottle.

  My eyes rolled toward the back of my head as his rhythm became a systematic mechanism that elicited maximum pleasure. “Keep going,” I murmured. E’tienne began slightly grunting has he kept a steady pace with his wrist and fingers. My hips and ass trembled slightly, as I felt a surge of sensations channeling through my lips and the top of my pubic area. “Stop,” I said.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I breathed out with satisfaction. “I want you in my mouth.”

  I slipped off my long skirt and crouched down. E’Tienne stood up and his erect dick protruded through his satin fabric athletic shorts. I slipped both of my index fingers underneath the elastic of his shorts and slipped them down toward the floor. His long, thick and erect cock was staring at me right in front of my face. He was carefully trimmed and clean, as fully erect a man his age and condition could be, a delightfully maximized extension.

  I gripped his cock with my lithe hand; lifting it and exposing his shaft into the moonlight. His member looked muscular and rigid, as the base of his shaft was exquisitely thickened and grooved. I placed my long tongue on the center of his shaft and move it up toward the base of his large, engorged head. “Does this feel good?” I asked.

  E’tienne closed his eyes and threw back his head. With a mischievous grin he said, “You have no idea.”

  “Can you cum if I keep doing this?” I asked.

  E’tienne just nodded his head. “Keep it slow and press against it with your tongue.”

  I licked the curved underside of his head with the meticulous and robotic beat of a metronome. I pressed my tongue hard against the fleshy bulb. His hips began squirming. His pants measured, deliberate, and airy as if he were on a breakaway attack on the soccer field.