The bark of the tree was rough against my skin, but I didn't mind. The August Roman night was a typical steam bath, and my room was still too sultry to sleep in. Sister Juliana was in the south on a family visit; La Rossa was in Jerusalem for a conference; Sister Lucia, our second in command, was out of town as well; and only the sisters without families or friends were stuck in town. I was on my own for one of the few times in my life. So after Evening Prayer, I disrobed without worry and climbed a tree naked to catch the breezes with a bottle of water to cool me off and a bottle of vodka to sustain my spirits. I heard the other Sisters turning in bed through their open windows, and grimaced. At least out here there was some comfort.
There was also a show. My perch had an excellent view of the Elephant's apartment, and he was using this evening to amuse himself with Aunt Mavis. They always left the light on when they made love, so I had a show that few people could imagine. Actually, few people would want to imagine this show: Monseigneur Carlo Maria Farinelli, il Elephante, was a robust man in his late seventies and Mavis Hazleton was a short, heavyset yet energetic lady in her late sixties. The Elephant was a tall, enormous man with graying hair, and his gigantic cock, also called the Elephant by him, was trusting in and out of his housekeeper from behind. From the marks on their backsides I could tell they'd been practicing some mortification of the flesh as a prelude to their intercourse. Aunt Mavis was usually insatiable: she was bent over the end of the bed with her hands tied to the bedposts, her breasts bound and her nipples sporting clothespins, and her partner dribbled candle wax on her lower back and buttocks as he pistoned in and out of her. Her face was twisted in a grimace, but I could tell she was enjoying herself immensely, a fact made clear when she looked my direction and gave a huge wink. For an instant I minded the she knew I was there, but ultimately she didn't care whether I watched or not, so I decided I wouldn't either.
The Elephant was lost in his sensations, and I caught a glance of a complicated device on his genitals when he fell out of her: he had tied up his cock and balls. Some men will do anything to keep going in their golden years. Aunt Mavis turned her head and asked in broken Italian: "Are you all right, deary?"
"Yes, Carissima. Just a little accident, and I need to catch my breath. Give me a moment."
"Do you want me to suck him a little?"
"No thank you, not now. I'm almost ready, yes." He lined his salami for entry and was penetrating her once again. Her face screwed up for a moment before relaxing into its previous mood of bliss. A thin film of sweat covered my body, and when a breeze stirred the branches, my nipples hardened at the coolness. Idly, I reached down and fingered my lower lips, shifting my weight as the electricity flowed through my body. I'd watched their show three nights running, and although it wasn't the most stimulating thing I've ever seen, it wasn't boring yet. "Yes Helen," I told myself quietly, "you're really into decadence and kink now."
I had an itch, and I put my middle finger inside myself to scratch it. The vodka was making me light headed and I liked it. A horn down the street frightened me for a moment; I looked around thinking our gardener Rocco had sneaked back and was peeping at me the same way I was peeping at Mavis and the Elephant, but taking a quick look around me and being quiet a little bit calmed my fear. It was more than a little thrilling to be so close to the sounds of the city and yet be naked in the open, out of sight. I drank a big slug of the vodka and put my ring finger inside myself too, just the right amount of fullness. My eyes closed and the wind ruffled my hair: life was good.
The Elephant had untied Mavis, flipped her over and had her on her back. He was dripping candle wax on her stomach and tits as he fucked her; her eyes were closed and she babbled in rapture: "Carlo, Carlo, Carlo, what did I ever do before you? Fuck me harder, luv, roger me hard. God made that cock for me, only me. Here I go again!" Her massive body quivered and her head went back as the orgasm took her, and he held himself inside her, making the sign of the Cross multiple times as he emptied himself.
At last, after she came down, she sat up as he exited her and untied his genitals, taking the Elephant's trunk in her hands and rubbing it in the afterglow. He put his hands on either side of her head and massaged her ears as she cleaned him up with her tongue. When she was done, he untied her boobs and gently plucked every bit of wax from her body, front and back, and they laid back in bed together, dimming the light.
An orgasm wasn't far away for me, either, but I wanted to coast in my current state of pleasure for a while longer. I took another slug of vodka and one of water without taking my hand out of my cunt and closed my eyes as the breezes played over my sweaty skin, making me shiver with delight. My spare hand tickled my rock hard nipples, giving them a gentle, gentle squeeze, going back and forth. The cars went by on the street outside unseen; my Sisters tossed and turned on their trundle beds trying to sleep; a plane glided overhead as it approached DaVinci for a midnight landing. The Vicar Alfred came to my mind, and I used his image to help me finish myself, imagining his strong hands playing my freckled skin like a virtuoso until I met the cloudburst at the summit of my dreams. Never thought it would end, my orgasm lasted so long.
It was still too soon to go back in, so I sat and thought. Sister Julianna was worrying me: we still went dancing from time to time and while there was no repeat of the adventures at the sex club or the hen party in England, before she left she confided she was considering giving Rocco something to remember. I told her if she was going to do that sort of thing, she needed to go out on her own and find a new boy; playing with Rocco was only going to cause trouble for everyone here. Sister Lucia acted as if she hadn't been part of some of our recent adventures but would give me knowing looks from time to time that ticked me off. Cardinal Terranova was hinting we should get together sometime off the clock and I was debating whether to quit auditing his books once and for all or give him a bondage and discipline session that would give him a heart attack. But the person I was most worried about was La Rossa, my mother in more ways than one. The stresses of the past year had taken a huge toll on her, and occasional hints left me to believe she was rethinking her plans after her term ended later this year. I was fine going someplace other than Kansas, but indecision was not easy for her either, and I could tell the uncertainty was getting to her. There was no question of her running for another term: the community was happy with her tenure, but she'd made it clear she'd had enough, and Sister Lucia was content with being the Crown Princess.
It was 0200 before I went to bed, sleeping naked without sheets, and my head only throbbed a little at Morning Prayer the next day. I crunched my numbers like a good girl, took a long siesta after lunch, and spent the afternoon reviewing some of the Cardinal's accounts for him. Dinner and Evening Prayer were uneventful, and when it was dark I was sitting naked in my tree watching Mavis and the Elephant once again. This time I left the vodka in the liquor cabinet.
The Elephant must have been a little tired from the previous evening, because he was lying on his back in bed, like a huge white whale beached on a four poster bed with silk sheets. Aunt Mavis was working on him; I was always amazed at how much of his manhood would fit in her mouth. It reminded me of once I paid the price with him for a special favor he was able to arrange at the Vatican. Other than a slight tingle, the taste of sperm did nothing for me, don't like or dislike it. Unlike Juli or Lucia, I've never known someone I wanted to take all the way with my mouth, and it's something I absolutely would not do for any bozo.
Aunt Mavis' capacity amazed me again when she sat on the Elephant. No mortal woman should be able to take a penis of that size to the hilt, and it made me wonder what size her ex-husband must have been like. I met Henry Hazleton once when I was a teenager, and it was a hazy memory. Many of the nuns at the Generalate were visibly relieved when Mavis arrived in Rome, diverting the Elephant's goatish attempts to seduce them. I remember them crossing themselves and asking the Blessed Mother for protection every time the Elephant's member came up in discussion. Never had a problem fending him off myself: I was too smart to get caught, and could defend myself the time I was cornered.
The sounds of the city distracted me again, and I shivered as a cool breeze played on my skin. Watching the energy Mavis rode the Elephant, I became impressed with the craftsmanship of the four poster bed. That piece of furniture must be the sturdiest bed in Christendom. They shouted and moaned as they rocked the bed, flesh wobbling everywhere before she collapsed on top of him, shaking in her orgasm as his red face exulted in another successful deposit of semen. "It's fortunate they didn't meet when they were teenagers," I said to myself. "They would've had twenty children, at least."
After another short night's sweltering snooze, I signed out a car from the motorpool after breakfast to pick up La Rossa at DaVinci. She'd been unusually quiet during this trip: usually she was in contact with me several times a day, and made sure we knew she was on the way home; this time, she only told us of her arrival at the Jerusalem conference, and didn't send out anything as she was preparing to depart. My mother isn't the best administrator in the world, but she's usually very thorough and this wasn't like her. I had copied the flight information before she left, and got to the airport in plenty of time to meet her. The terminal was its usual chaos: people walking at high speed, foreigners lost their first time on arrival, children sulking at being tethered to their parents, and the omnipresent inaudible squawk of the announcer only added to the confusion. Her flight was posted on the arrival board and since I knew the place well, I got to her exit point well before she was due.
The plane got in, the people disembarked, and she wasn't there. She was traveling in habit, so there was no chance of her getting lost in the crowd. Just to be certain, I followed the passengers to the baggage carousel and watched as they recovered their luggage. The cell phone showed no messages. I called her cell and got a recording.
We usually tried to find the best price for our flights without traveling Alitalia, and this time she'd flown the Greek airline. I made my way to the customer service desk, and met a swarthy, muscular young man with slicked back black hair and Mediterranean features. "May I help you, Miss?" he oozed unctuously when I approached the counter.
"Yes, sir. I'm looking for a passenger on Flight 8987 from Athens. Barbara Parkhurst-Frazelton."
"And why would you be looking for her?"
"She was supposed to be on that plane and wasn't."
"Let me check." He made a show of tapping out knowledgeable patterns on his computer keyboard, throwing an occasional leer from time to time. I focused on my patience and fought to give him as blank an expression as I could. "No, my dear lady, she was not on that flight."
