It is war time and Sister Therese is torn between her vows and the people she loves. She is trying to keep the handsome Prince Mefist at arm's length and at the same time protecting her friends.
Villagers, partisans, refugees, and Jews all come to her for help and she cannot refuse. Only by cooperating with the Prince can she and the sisters survive. And if that means running a bordello for the Army officers, then that is what she will do. But it is not easy to resist Mefist, and as the two of them struggle to hold back a violent world, he becomes a friend and more.
Therese looked again in the mirror. The stockings made her legs seem very long. The black of the stockings and lace stood out against the white of her skin, and the neat patch of dark hair that Wanda had left was framed by the straps of the suspender belt. Her hair did nothing to hide the furrow below and the pink frills peeping from it. She found the picture interesting. Did all ladies look like this under their dresses? Nuns certainly did not look like this under their habits.
“Stop admiring yourself and put this on.”
Therese reddened and reached for the dress. As she pulled it over her head, it seemed no more than un-sewn scraps of silky material. She pulled the straps up onto her shoulders, and the dress hung loosely from her.
“Wait a minute.” Wanda was behind her and fumbling low on her hips. She found the zip and started to pull it up. The dress tightened; first around her hips, and then upwards. It squeezed her and tightened about her chest as Wanda clicked the zip home. The bodice of the dress trapped her breasts uncomfortably, and she reached into the décolletage to pull them into place. The effect shocked her. The dress was cut so low that her breasts were almost completely exposed. Worse still, they were lifted up and offered like two ripe fruits on a tray. She stared in horror at the mirror.
Wanda stood back and looked at her critically. “That’s a very good fit. Especially at the front. Turn around!”
As she moved, she found her legs restricted by the tightness of the dress around her thighs. In the mirror she could see the shiny blackness moulding her hips and thighs. A lacy flare reached down from her knees to her ankles. Her bottom looked big and obvious.
Wanda clapped her hands and laughed. “Dear Serge! He loves a good dupka, though not usually female ones. He just can’t help himself. I must get a photograph of you. He’ll be so happy.”
“But it’s not like me….”
“Of course not. You used to be a nun, but now…now it’s perfect. If I looked like that I could be Queen of Vienna. Stop complaining and see if you can do your hair and makeup the way I showed you.”
The room was dark when they entered, lit only by the lights behind the bar and a single bulb of the many in the chandelier. Mefist sat at a table at the edge of the dance floor, and he stood to receive them. The table had glasses, a candle and a bottle of champagne. Wanda led her to him and twirled her around.
“Doesn’t she look beautiful? Serge deserves a medal, and he’s never even seen her.”
“My dear, you look wonderful,” said Mefist, bowing to kiss her hand, “and you too, Wanda. If you were in Vienna together, your beauty would set the world on fire. Sit down and we’ll toast the future.”
While Mefist filled their glasses, Wanda put a record on the gramophone. American music, Cole Porter. The curtain over the entrance to the girls’ rooms rattled aside, and they danced into the room.
Therese was stunned. After seeing the girls dance naked for so long, seeing them in their new clothes came as a shock. Not that any of them had dresses. They all wore stockings and heeled shoes, but none of them wore knickers. Above their stockings they wore a colourful mix of underwear. Short slips, lacy brassieres, bustiers or transparent night dresses, all different. As they danced in the semi-darkness, they hinted at sex and wickedness. Therese had seen none of this worldliness in them before.
“Dance with them,” whispered Mefist. “They’re your girls….”
Moving carefully in her high shoes, Therese was passed from arm to arm as she danced. Suddenly she no longer knew these girls, these beautiful women with their erotic clothes and their naked, siren sexes. They were elegant and smooth in her arms. Their hair swayed as they moved, and their red lips smiled at her. They frightened her.
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When Shirley arrives at the Institute, she thinks she will be studying Politics. But the Institute has a sterner purpose, the study of Witchcraft. Gradually, Shirley is introduced to the practice and history of the Craft. She has a talent for mind control and for romance, and is given her witch's name, Light o'Love...
Rossiter took in the situation. “Are you sure it’s them?”
“Of course. Look at them; who else could it be?”
“Exactly. Let me think. If they’re Nick’s people in disguise, he already knows we’re here, and Holly and Dhu Varren already know he is here. I’m going to cover us up. If Nick’s around, it will be as good as putting up a billboard advertising us, but he will know that anyway. If the people really are Godiva and The Lamplighter, they just won’t see us. But Nick will if he’s somewhere across the valley spying out the ground. We’ll be out of reach, but tempting. Sit still.”
Rossiter started his charms and crawled right around her making passes from above his head down to the rock they sat on. He turned and smiled to her. “There, we can watch them climb past and they won’t even know we’re here.”
Godiva and The Lamplighter had found the pack trail and were zigzagging up the side of the fell. They did not hurry, and Light o'Love could hear their chattering slowly coming nearer. They were young, cheerful and in love. Once they had climbed high enough, they left the path and headed towards the boulder where Rossiter and Light o'Love were hiding.
“They’re OK, I think,” Light o'Love whispered. “I can feel them and they’re genuine. What do you think?”
“I think so too, but why are they coming here?”
They were getting much closer and it was hard to look Godiva in the face without flinching and trying to hide.
“This looks good,” said Godiva as she got close enough to see the short grass. “No-one will be able to see us behind here.”
The Lamplighter looked suspiciously around one side of the boulder and then the other and finally he gave a wide smile and swung his small rucksack from his shoulders.
“This is just the right place. At last.” He pulled a folded groundsheet from his rucksack. Between them, they spread it on the grass behind the boulder. They unwrapped their anoraks from their waists and folded them as pillows. Godiva unlaced her boots, kicked them off, and rolled on top of The Lamplighter.
“Now I’ve got you,” she said. “All to myself. No escape.” She swung her hair to one side and started to kiss him.
Light o'Love looked at Rossiter. He had a naughty smile on his face as he lay on his stomach and settled down to watch. Light o'Love lay beside him. There was nothing else to do.
They watched as the lovers giggled and kissed below them. They shared long sucking kisses as they drank and explored each other. The Lamplighter had already pulled Godiva’s shirt out and his hands were wandering beneath, looking for the fastening of her bra.
He broke their kiss and pushed her back until she was kneeling astride him. One by one, he undid her buttons until he could push her shirt back over her shoulders. It caught on her wrists and Godiva had to help him, fumbling at her cuffs until she could pull her shirt clear. She shrugged off her bra and he took it from her, folding it and placing it at the edge of the groundsheet. He lay back with his hands behind his head and stared at her.
From where she lay, behind and above, Light o'Love could not see Godiva’s breasts clearly, but The Lamplighter could and he liked them. “You are a beautiful, beautiful woman,” he said in his deep voice, and he reached out to take a breast in each hand. Godiva sighed and Light o'Love knew that her eyes would be closed as The Lamplighter played with her. Her head rolled from side to side.
With a powerful twist of his body, he turned her onto her back. He leaned over her and, with one big hand, he held her wrists together above her head. She did not take her eyes from his face as she waited quietly for what he would do to her. He bent to her and kissed her, her face, her eyes, her neck, her mouth. She struggled uselessly in his grip as he kissed and she returned his kisses. She still struggled as he kissed down to the pink tips of her breasts. Her eyes closed and she whimpered as he sucked and teased.
Light o'Love no longer felt any embarrassment. Watching her friends was not an intrusion and it was making her excited. She moved closer to Rossiter and he put his arm around her. He felt good beside her.
Below them, The Lamplighter had left Godiva’s breasts and pulled the rest of her clothes off. She kicked her legs free and lay back, one leg straight and the other bent at the knee, fallen sideways to open herself to him. Her pussy was a pink shadow beneath its wispy blonde fur. She was Eve incarnate, the woman who does nothing and still rules her man with her beauty.
The Lamplighter lay beside her and lowered his hand to the fork of her legs. Godiva propped herself up on her elbows and, like a mouse fascinated by a serpent, watched his masculine brown hand probing her, parting her lips and dipping into the nectar within. She dropped back with a moan and lifted her hips, thrusting them upwards in a slow rhythm to draw him into her. The Lamplighter played on as Godiva’s moans became louder and her movements faster.
Watching felt immensely exciting for Light o'Love, and she made no objection when Rossiter took his hand from around her shoulders and reached underneath her. She lifted her hips from the rock and allowed him to unclip her breeches and reach inside. His fingertips were roaming across her mound and she knew she was as wet as Godiva.
Godiva’s moaning had taken on a desperate tone as her climax drew near. She hung on to The Lamplighter with one hand while the other arm stretched out wide and gripped a fold in the ground sheet. Her eyes were closed tight and her face was red and strained.
With both hands, Light o'Love struggled to push her breeches and panties over her hips and halfway down her thighs. Now Rossiter had the freedom of her pussy and she lowered herself into the palm of his hand. He clasped his fingers into her wetness and she moved slowly against him.
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Jacqueline lives in Far North Queensland, on the shore of the Coral Sea. She keeps herself busy with her cats and garden, and by writing books - some of which are far too naughty for her own good. You can find out more about Jacqueline and her books at
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Jacqueline-George/e/B004MMTIVE