Sister Marie - Nun Better

One Saturday afternoon, there was a knock at my back door.

"Marie...! I mean, SISTER Marie!"

I stood aside and motioned for her to come into the kitchen. Marie had been a neighbor of mine prior to my divorce. I'd moved away and she ran into me at a book store a few weeks back. I'd missed her company and invited her to "stop by anytime" for coffee and talk. She'd done just that, coming by almost every Friday and Saturday morning.

"Please, come in Sister! I've just put on a pot of coffee."

"Oh, Mr. Dietz, you can call me Marie. You've known me long enough."

Sister Marie stood just inside my kitchen, so I motioned her over to the table, holding her chair for her as she sat down.

"Would you like some cake with your coffee? Or would you prefer tea today? I have some nice herbal stuff I just bought-"

"Coffee, please," she interrupted, "with cream and sugar, if you would. I'm in a devilishly decadent mood today."

I prepared it and I sat across from her. Over the weeks we'd been meeting, we would talk about being neighbors and her growing up in the neighborhood. As Marie, she'd babysat my daughter before my wife and I divorced and I'd always admired her. She wasn't beautiful in any "model" sense, but she was always what I considered pretty, with long, dark hair that hung past her shoulders, thick lashes that were naturally dark, a button nose, and a wide, sensuous mouth. Marie had a nice figure and, now that I think about it, reminded me of Jenna Ortega.

Marie had always been small, both in stature and figure-wise, though she didn't seem to care. I'd admired her secretly when she would come over to use our pool, usually with two or three friends or siblings in tow.

Her parents had been strict Catholics and were exceedingly pleased when another of their children had decided to devote themselves to the Church -- her two older brothers becoming priests and an older sister becoming a nun. With nine children, they could afford to 'give half of them up to their Savior.'

But I was quite surprised when I'd heard through friends that Marie announced her intention to enter a convent after spending the final two years in an all-girl Catholic High School. She hadn't seemed the type to want to do that as she'd been very rebellious since 6th grade and had flirted with the Goth scene through most of her high school years. She'd also spent a majority of her free time at our house, devouring my book collection and talking to me about what she'd read.

So, when we ran into each other at the local book store, it was quite a surprise to both of us. I made the invitation and we began to get together at either a coffee shop or my house for a chat. Lately, she seemed to be more comfortable talking to me again, almost to where we were back when she was younger. Today, though, she looked a little apprehensive and troubled.

"Mr Dietz," she began.

"Please, call me Max," I told her.

"M-, Max," she said, hesitating, "you know that I'm thinking of becoming a nun, right?"

"Thinking of? I thought you already were one!"

"No, I'm just an initiate. They give you some time to do some self-examination before making a commitment. I have to make up my mind soon and I've got a bit of a problem. You were always the person I could talk to about things, no matter how embarrassing or 'out-there' they might have seemed. You were never judgmental, never talked down to me and you always took me seriously, even when I thought I was right and tried justifying my mistakes."

I nodded. "You always deserved that, Marie. Heck, girl, you even skipped a grade in elementary school! I've always found you to be intelligent once you were able to put all the pieces together."

"Thanks, I think!" she said, laughing. She sipped her coffee again and I shook my head. The plain cream blouse did nothing for her figure. She'd looked really hot as a Goth and now, with a lack of makeup and the frumpy clothing she wore, she looked more like a frightened little girl than the confident woman I'd come to know.

"So," I said, "what's your problem?"

"It's kinda... well... I'm at a crossroads." She sipped her coffee again and then seemed to change gears with a non-sequitur. "How does one know if one is in love?"

I was taken aback for a moment and considered her words.

"Are you in love?"

"I'm... not sure."

"Are you questioning whether or not you should become a bride of Christ?" I asked, feeling just a bit hypocritical as I'm not all that religious.

"No, I'm not questioning that."

"Hmmmm."

I thought a bit more and she fidgeted a bit, so I poured her some more coffee and put the cream and sugar in front of her. Marie often had a difficult time saying what she meant and sometimes I thought she enjoyed the question-and-answer game as well, so I plowed on.

"So, you want to become a nun?"

Marie sipped at her coffee and then, putting it down, she stared down at the table and her face crinkled up into thoughtfulness.

"I don't know. I thought I wanted to be one until recently. Then things changed and I began to have doubts."

"Doubts about your love for Christ?"

Again, I felt like such a hypocrite asking questions like that because, I didn't really believe in Christianity. I was what I called a "psychological deist", meaning I believed in a creator as the energy of the universe and didn't anthropomorphize that deity. I felt a spirituality in the earth and the universe, but I never went for all the wiccan-pagan-tree-hugger nonsense or that banal blathering of those that thought the alignment of planets 'affected' us in some way.

She laughed at my comment. "I don't think most women become nuns because of a love for Christ," she said. "Maybe in your day, they did, but not now."

"Ouch," I groaned. That was a hit. Yes, I was 42 and she'd just turned 20.

"I didn't mean it that way, Max!" she laughed. Then her face became serious again. "I just don't seem to know what I want. All the other girls seem to be so focused. I can't seem to develop the same singularity of purpose that they have."

"Why is that?"

"Because I think I'm in love."

I sat there stunned, looking at her for a few moments.

"You think you're in love?" I parroted.

"Yes."

"With a guy or with one of the girls in the convent?" I asked before slapping my head. "Oh God, it's a priest, isn't it!"

Marie leaned back and laughed, her breasts pressing against her shirt. She stretched and kept them pressed there, so that I could see that she wasn't wearing a bra, but had a camisole or some other type of undergarment beneath it. And they were bigger than I thought.

"No, it's not a priest and no, it's not one of the other girls. Nor is it a nun. It's a lay person."

"I see. Well, what's the problem then?"

"It's a guy that isn't even in the church," she said. "But I do like him and he's recently become available."

"Hmmm. You know, Marie," I began, pondering, "I don't think I've ever known you to express any indication that you were interested in guys. I've never seen you with a date, never saw you hanging out with any one guy, even during your Goth phase. You always had a pack of them around you, but you never let any of them get too close."

She laughed. "Oh, that phase! Yeah. All of them wanted me in one way or another, but none of them were really interested in me... or interested me."

"I liked you in that phase," I blurted, sipping at my own cup, "You looked hot in some of those outfits." When I put it down and looked at her, she was open-mouthed.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put it that bluntly."

"You liked my Goth phase?"

"Yes. You looked good in black and dressed like that. It appealed to my Wednesday Addams fetish."

"Oh wow. I didn't even think you'd noticed!"

"Why is that?"

"You never seemed to react to it."

I laughed softly. "Hon, I usually look at people that do odd things or change styled radically as people that are either crying out for attention or just want to be noticed. I treated you the same, no matter what, because I knew the person that was in there." I tapped her forehead.

"Yes," she said softly, "that's why I've always considered you my best friend. You like me for who I am and you're willing to let me make mistakes, accept when I make them and helped me try to correct them, not chew me out or belittle me over them. My parents could never understood. They always reacted... or over-reacted. Then, just before I went off to college, you moved away! I missed you sooo much, Max! More than you'll ever know. After you left, I became confused. I had no direction and no one to talk to about it. I ended up dropping out of college and feeling lost, which pissed off my parents. That's why I joined the convent. My folks refused to pay for college anymore. The church would, if I went for a degree in education."

"I'm sorry, Marie. I didn't mean to just go away, but when Carol and I divorced, I got transferred here. It was part of the reason she divorced me. She didn't want to leave her lover! But now you've found me." I finished. "So, tell me about this guy you think you might be in love with."

"Wait, Carol had a lover?"

"Yes. And yes, I knew about it." I blushed a little as I admitted this next part. "Carol and I always had an open relationship. As long as we didn't take on lovers behind the other's back, we were free to date and bed someone we found attractive."

"Shoot, if I'd know that...!" said Marie, her face giving me a look of shock.

I gave her a curious look back. "Meaning?"

"Nothing."

We both sipped our coffee and there was an extended silence.

"So," I said, breaking the tension a little. "Tell me about this guy."

She smiled. "Well, he's really kind and he's been very patient with me. He always seems to understand when I go off and do something impulsive. He never gets angry like my parents did, never berates me and always seems to encourage me to be independent."

"Sounds like a great guy!" I told her. "So, what's the problem?"

"I don't know how he feels about me," she cried despairingly.

"You don't? It sounds to me like he's very much taken with you!"

"Yes, but I don't know if he's in love with me," she said, using the tip of her spoon to play with a drop of coffee that had spilled on the tabletop. "I've done a lot of things over the years to try to get him to notice me, but he's never said anything about liking me or even noticing me beyond 'friendship'... until recently."

"Well, maybe he's intimidated by the fact that you want to become a nun."

"Maybe," she said, looking thoughtful.

"When you meet him, are you always dressed in your habit?"

"Usually, yes."

"Well, maybe you should try meeting with him in street clothes and see how he reacts."

Marie smiled and she looked radiant at that moment. "Maybe I will! Thank you, Max! You've been very helpful! Do you mind if I come by again tomorrow for coffee?"

"Not at all, Marie! You know I always enjoy your company!"

Marie called the next day and told me she had to cancel our coffee-klatch. I figured she had worked up the nerve to go see her mystery man dressed in street clothes, so I told her it was no problem.

I didn't hear from her for another two weeks when she called to let me know she was coming by. When the knock came to my back door, I almost didn't answer, thinking it was a sales person.

The woman that came in my door was dressed in a conservative sheath-skirt, cream-colored silk something-or-other under a jacket that matched her skirt and hugged her curves. The woman's hair was trimmed and she wore tastefully done makeup. If I hadn't seen Marie l in her Goth phase, I might not have answered the door, but I recognized her at the last moment because her makeup was similar to what she used to wear as a Goth.

"Marie!" I said, looking her up-and-down, "Wow! What's the occasion? Are you going to see if you can get a rise out of your mystery guy?"

"In a way, yeah," she said, floating past me, a smile on her face over my reaction.

I looked at my watch and it was just shy of 10 am.

"You're seen him already?"

"No," she replied, walking over to my coffee maker and pouring a cup. "How do you like my look?"

I was practically drooling.

"You look... wow... spectacular!" I told her, "And, now I think I'm a little jealous of this guy!"

"Really?" she said, her eyes perking noticeably as she looked at me over the rim of her cup while she sipped. Marie put the cup down and did a pirouette. "Do you think that this might get him to say how he feels about me?"

I laughed. "Hon, if he doesn't notice you in that outfit, then, hell, I'll ask you to marry me!"

Marie squealed, running up to me and giving me a hug, pressing her little tits against me hard. I put my arms around her back and hugged her, then let up, waiting for her to back away. She didn't.

After a moment, I whispered, "Maybe you want to save some of it for that special mystery guy, eh?"

She laughed and squeezed me once more before letting go.

"You really think I'm pretty?" she asked.

"Marie, I've always thought you were very attractive!"

"Always?"

"Yes, always," I told her, sitting down across from her at the table. "Remember when you used to come over to my house to swim? You'd wear that silly, conservative bathing suit, then changed into a bikini when you got to my place?"

She laughed. "Yeah, and I'd have to run into the shed when my mom or my sister came to get me so that they didn't see me. You were always nice enough to warn me when they were at the door."

I laughed. "Yes, but I loved looking at you in that black bikini. Carol used to get so jealous!"

"Why would she get jealous of flat-chested, lil ol me?"

"Because...," I said, smiling until I realized who I was talking to. "But that's not a subject for me to discuss with someone that might want to be a nun."

"Hey," she laughed, "I'm out of uniform today. We can let our hair down!"

"Yeah, but that's not how someone speaks about someone of the cloth."

"Oh? How does one speak about someone of the cloth? How were you thinking of speaking?"

"Marie, really, I-,"

"We're letting the hair down, remember? I'll go first, if you're not comfortable." She smiled and leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands.

"I always thought you were pretty hot, Max," she told me. "I've always been attracted to older men anyway, and wanted to run my fingers through the hairs on your chest for years!"

I sat, giving her a shocked look.

Marie laughed and gave me a mischievous little smile and wiggle of her head before she took another sip. "Did you just want to look at me in that bikini, Max? Or did you want to touch me then?"

I sputtered a couple times and then hid my embarrassment by making another pot of coffee. By the time it was done, I'd regained my composure and decided to just be honest. Marie was not an innocent young thing anymore and, if I expected honesty from her, I should give it in return.

"If you want the blunt truth," I told her, "the reason Carol got so pissed was because she walked in on me jacking off while watching you and your friends sunning yourselves around the pool."

"You got hard thinking of me?" she laughed. "When you had Carol? She was gorgeous, Max!"

"Yeah, well," I said, drinking more coffee, "looks aren't always everything. Sometimes I wondered if she shouldn't have been a nun."

"Huh?"

"Carol had always been able to get any guy she wanted simply by showing a little cleavage and flirting. In reality, she wasn't all that good in bed, even though she agreed to an 'open' marriage."

Marie looked shocked. "What happened?"

"Oh, she liked attention and loved how she could attract a man. I think Carol was 'in love with falling in love.' But, once she got a guy, she didn't want to do anything she deemed 'kinky.' With the guy, or with me! After the baby, she pretty much lost interest in any sort of adventurous behavior."

"Oh, my God! That's the silliest thing I ever heard of! If you were... If I were... If I were her, I would have thought I'd married the greatest guy on earth! I mean, you're comfortable to live with, you are willing listen, you are patient; you're funny, suave..."

"Well, she didn't see it that way," I said, gruffly.

We both sipped our coffee in silence for a few moments before she asked me a question.

"What did Carol think was 'kinky' anyway?"

I barked a laugh. "Up until she met Ed, anything that went beyond the missionary position!"

I suddenly realized who I was talking to. "I'm sorry. That was crude."

"No, said Marie, "that was honest."

I shrugged. "I guess she got upset because I was always checking you girls out as well. Carol and I were pretty inexperienced when we first got married and I've always felt like she just went along with what I wanted because she didn't know how to say 'no.'

"When we had Rita, she seemed to become more prudish. When I wanted sex, we would fight, and then almost got divorced when I told her I wanted more than the missionary position.

"We went to counseling and she eventually agreed to opening our relationship and letting me go out and have sex with other women and she could do so with other men. Our agreement was that we could do that as long as we kept the other informed and they met and/or approved of the play partner.

"I was the first to play around and it was with a woman that Carol suggested, a friend of hers that was still a virgin at age 27. We tried it and had sex about a dozen times until she confessed that she was actually a lesbian trying to get pregnant and Carol had offered me up.

"I wasn't too happy about that," I continued, pouring another cup of coffee as Marie listened intently. "Carol knew about it and had even had sex with the woman once or twice. I didn't know about it and she said she thought our agreement only covered members of the opposite sex.

"I went back to looking for that elusive little 'hottie' that wanted to engage in some kink. Hell, in fact, I became kinkier, reading books on all sorts of stuff like bondage and rope and things. It made me wonder more and more if there wasn't more out there that I should experience. I loved Carol, though -- or thought I did -- but I couldn't help thinking that I was missing something."

She looked at me over the rim of her cup, her eye makeup creating a wonderfully captivating look. She sipped the coffee and then said, "Is there? Anything more, I mean?"

"I think so," I told her. "When I found out about her affair with Ed and how she did things for him that she adamantly refused to do for me, I felt betrayed, so I went out and had an affair of my own."

"You did? With who?"

"Nobody you know and I'd rather not say, but she was married, younger than I am and just a little older than you. I met her over the internet."

"What happened?"

"Her parents, husband, in-laws and church intervened, threatening all sorts of actions against me. None were true and nothing we did was illegal, but it would have ruined me professionally. So I left."

"I see." She sipped her coffee thoughtfully until it was gone.

"So," I said, trying to turn the subject away from me, "Who is this guy, where did you meet him and how old is he?"

"I want to ask you a question first, Max." Marie had a coy little smile on her face.

"Ask away, Marie."

"When you were watching me in my little bikini and jacking off..."

"Oh, not this again!"

"Yes, this again. When you were jacking off, was it just over my body or did you actually want ME?"

I sighed. "I'm not sure if I want to answer that, Marie."

"Why not?"

"Because, if I did, I might color your thinking where it concerns this guy you like."

"Oh, I don't think you'll sway my opinion of him much," she said, laughing.

"Well," I said, sighing heavily and trying to form the words so that they were more neutral than they sounded -- but there wasn't a way to do that.