"I can already imagine the amaze of meeting somebody who seems a soulmate of yars at first sight or the soul which exactly matches with yars." The brunette whispered timidly, cheerfully by gesturing with a hand she will be right back within a few minutes and getting from the sofa sluggishly as if her physical stamina bear a semblance of seventy-year-old elder. Her heart warmed at the mention of her mother how she met for first time the love of her life.

"We will wait for ya, sweetie!" The middle-aged lady exclaimed as Odette walked away from the living room by limping up to the kitchen without attempting to slump or the baby kicks interrupt her essential goal.

"It's fun to discuss such topics rather than bickering with Odette, Judy! I didn't mean to be mean or something, but I hate it when you just act like little kids instead of like grown-up." The former priest evoked out, nibbling on his bottom, berry-coloured lip as it curled by snaking an arm around Jude's shoulder, his colossal, veiny hand kneaded lightly her upper back, in order to soothe her.

"Ugh, she said worry and pity are similar! Didn't you just hear her?" She muttered, whereas Odette was beyond lucky for not hearing her mother's utterance after filling an ordinary glass with fresh, lukewarm water by resuscitating her body from the barrens once she sipped it.

"Rara avis, let's not talking shit about Odette and instead focus on the positive moments and vibes!" He patted amiably her shoulder, assuring her.

"You're probably right!" At the moment, the juvenile singer held a glass of water, whilst her other free hand propped the wall and poising her posture, in case, if an accident befalls her.

"I'm back." She drew their attentions momentarily with her arrival by limping up to the leather couch.  "Did I miss something?"

"No, no! You haven't missed anything special, darling!" The older woman replied. "Everything is fine to assure ya."

"Oh! I know these cheesy tricks." The brunette chuckled ironically as she said in jeering manner. "Being okay with something even if it doesn't seem alright at all. Let's return to yar story, mom!"

"Oh yeah! The day I met yar fathar was just one of the best days in my life along with the one we found ya and we got married."

--- Flashback ---
--- September 1939 ---

The September autumn breeze assaulted Boston and its outskirts with the lukewarm, fresh climate. The hints of the genuine autumn as the summer days were dying.

Agitation could be the best emotion which airbrushed the young nun since she received the good news from her mentor, Mother Claudia for the young British Monsignor, whose crucial goal is becoming a Pope in Rome and step on the long, glossy scarlet aisle of Rome, being addressed as the exalted Pope by a hive of nuns and priests. His arrival was suppose to take its place in the early days of September. It was the day when Briarcliff wouldn't be reckoned as a tuberculosis hospital, consequently, transforming it in a mental hospital for criminally insane with its essential goal to save wretched and lost souls, whose lights aren't being guided by God anymore. 

As a cab was already parked on the sideway past the grandiose angel statue which was part of the almost former tuberculosis hospital's yard, the oxfords of the juvenile, aspiring priest which stomped the grassland by approaching the horde of nuns and their leader the Mother Superior as well.

The nuns weren't many as they were 4 only. The first one was the youngest one as she was scarcely an young adult or perhaps in her late teens. Her bashful, light brown as almond eyes kindled a cold pigment flame of her benevolent, fragile and sheerly innocent nature. The stray strands of her strawberry-brown waterfall of tresses ideally framed her youthful, yet mildly childish complexion. Naivety oozed of her honeyed voice tone and eye contacts which she managed up with people her seniors. At last but not least, her skin tone was as pale as ghost and she wasn't tall at all. 5'2 was exactly her height with lean body structure, framing her petite figure. She was Sister Florence.

The second was the second youngest or she was rather in the beginning of her 20s, despite she was slightly younger than Jude, who was the new addition to the Roman Catholic church. Sister Frances was the sister of the church with the fair skin tone, ebony black as midnight irises, aureate angelic ringlet of straight silken tresses with its shoulders length which once coated her upper back until the wool, sacred wimple coiffed almost every inch of it with exception a couple of stray tresses. Concealing the genuine significance of her youthful grace. She was as tall as Sister Florence and their body structures were alook like as well. 

And the third nun was actually Jude. At last but not least, the fourth woman of the cloth was Sister Irene with her mildly olive-tanned skin color, followed by her amber green orbs, chestnut wavy, neck length hair and her taller figure than the younger holy women, gathered altogether. Nonetheless, Irene was the eldest among them as she was in her mid 30s. Moreover, she was known as stern and diligent middle-aged lady with her own principes, besides her neatly austere looks. 

Along with the pair of sisters was also their mentor, Mother Claudia as different versions of beaming smiles were flashed upon their faces as their pools, wich glistened abundance of tinges were transfixed on his tall, paradoxally appealing figure. 

Meanwhile, Jude's hazelish-brown eyes were darted to the young priest, who looked with a year younger than her. Girlish, sheepish smile cradled her rosy-coloured, soft as satin lips, shaped in a crescent form as a couple of inner voices echoed in her mind. 

At first, the Monsignor approached the elder nun by shaking her hand as the both superior members of the church stood inches away from the nuns. Florence and Frances were whispering to one another as gossipers by discussing the man of the cloth as the crucial topic was him, lingering on their tongues, whereas the blonde was nervously playing with her hands as the thumbs of her petite, smooth hands were kneading the back of them, nibbling on her bottom, plumpish lip with her ivory anterior teeth, bearing a semblance of piano keys. The Monsignor and the Mother Superior were chatting for awhile just before his formal introduction and the handshakes with the elder nun's proteges, who acted as if they were mere schoolgirls with a new classmate that drew their attention in no time. 

Eventually Irene was the sole lady amidst the younger ones, who was somewhat enthusiasted for the holy man's handshake and introduction as she was fed up with representatives of the opposite sex fancying her, besides she has always had bad luck with men no matter how older or younger they were than her. She's been part of the church's duties for a half a decade by taking solemn vows to not laid her eyes on a man ever again and take her life in different direction.

"Good day to you, Sisters! I couldn't be more grateful to Mother Superior, who brought me here. I'm actually Monsignor Timothy Howard. I'm an English priest, origination from an aristocratic, deliriously wealthy family from London. What it struck me about Briarcliff was to purchase this facility and turn it in a mental hospital as the main goal of this institution is being transformed in a sanctuary for rescuing wretched souls, who've already lost their light and path to God or God has gave up to grant them light." Shortly before commencing with his silver-tongued, howsoever, faintly uneasy monologue, he cleared his throat by fixing his collar as the former promiscuous nightclub singer's honey brown pools glinted sparks, hints of falling in love at first sight by scanning him, spotting the pettiest details behind Timothy even if she hasn't spoken to him yet. "I believe the tonic for a diseased mind lies in the three P's: productivity, prayer and purification." Thereafter a dramatic pause interrupted his monlogue as he exhaled sharply, releasing tad ounce of oxygen from the top of his lungs. 

With each elapsing second, she was falling in love with him even more, sensing hive of butterflies flapping featherly their wings, insinuating the first sights of being head over heels in love. Little did she know what might be his words to her and vice versa especially hers as she didn't want to make a bad impression. 

After his introduction, the man of the cloth strolled up by starting with the youngest nuns by shaking their hands and have a brief conversation before moving on the imminent one. Whilst the younger man was shaking the hand of Sister Frances, the heart beats were cemented with agitation, frequency as its pulse conveyed to her sensitive, wee ears. She could no longer feel composed and to calm her nerves even for a single second. It was a roller coaster of complex emotions and feelings, brewing inside her as a black coffee. 

When he finished with handshaking the younger blonde, subsequently he moved to the third one. Sister Jude.

"It's a pleasure, Sister Jude! Monsignor Timothy Howard!" He emphasized his ecclesiatical title and name in the same time, offering her a sympathetic, blameless smile, honed up in the corners of his berry-coloured, dry lips as her cheeks tinted sanguine pigment instantly along with sweltering heat, creeping underneath her cheeks' flesh. Idiotic, awkward, nevertheless, inviting and kindhearted smile welcomed him, danced across her lips, locking up his chocolate brown irises with hers as she longed to pursue his gaze. Once their hands were scooped in a handshake, shivers and paroxysm layered her bones and body muscles of sweetness, vague embarrassment, pleasure beneath the old-fashioned, shapeless attires of the church which armored her slender, nonetheless indisputably attractive and youthful body. The both young adults opted to not admire one another's timeless graces but the trials' gravitation collided them as magnetism was achieved. 

"It's mine pleasure, Father Howard. Sister Jude Martin!" She bobbed her head humbly as he was the sole substantial reason why her smile was as broad as an endless hallway. Heart raced in anticipation for their face-to-face conversation which won't last than a minute or even less. Furthermore, she felt as lost as a schoolgirl, who has just met her new male classmate especially taking a seat next to her. The grasp of the handshake was amusingly warm, significantly affecting their anatomies especially hers. 

They took their time to admire one another's complexions by imprinting as tracks of a missing animal in their minds, filling the gaps of oblivion and unfilled rooms with memories. The elegant, sincere smiles were wiped off their complexions especially the older blonde's one as soon as he moved to the impending woman of the cloth. The desperation and dew of mist desolation gleamed her hazel eyes by scrutinizing, inspecting in the corner of her eye, diverging his manners towards the other nuns unlike the former jazz nightclub singer's one. It was an unexplainable mystery for her yet or she has just found her soulmate, or rather the ideal partner with whom to collaborate by saving wretched souls of the eternal, pitch-black darkness of the vices and sorrow. 

However, Timothy was gladly impressed by the candidates for being his right hand with an exceptional candidate, whose first impression was enchantingly unaccountable. She was a sheer perfection for him into his eyes, beholding her genuine value even with an ordinary eye contact and without uttering a single syllable, tickling their oral caverns. 

God's judgmental glares were transfixed on his devotional servant of his, who was just being tempted naturally and discreetly with the brief, mere conversations they had, the smiles they exchanged within milliseconds and the eye contacts which were accomplished even lasted longer than the normal. God, himself, knew right away the young woman was his Achilles' Heel without questioning why he's insanely absent-minded and most of all, nonplussed. Within a few minutes, their lives drastically changed on 360 degrees.

As soon as the handshake process ended, afterwards Mother Claudia was more than determined who's going to be the juvenile Monsignor's right hand by declaring the official right hand:

"It was my huge pleasure and my honor to present Father Howard, but," In the interval, the elder nun coughed reluctantly by darting her azure blue eyes to the horde of proteges, who were more than eager to hear their names if they're the perfect candidates as an administrators of the mental institution. "He needs a right hand or a clerical companion, actively working altogether as the church duties are their very top priorities. Namely team players!" Everybody gazed at the elder sister of the church and the English aristocrat as Jude verged to have a heart attack once her name was triumphantly is cried out loud if it was an alternative. "It's Sister...Sister Jude!" She said jubilantly by keeping on with her exclaimation.

Timothy secretly hoped and prayed his heart out inwardly Jude could be his right hand by collaborating together and doing their clerical quests. In the interim, Jude couldn't be more than smugly honored to be the chosen right hand as a content, radiant grin distorted across her lips, whereas the other nuns were readily jealous and instead, they concealed their zealousy by bowing, demonstrating respect. 

--- End of Flashback ---

"So he has chosen you as his right hand?" Odette posed the question as her fingertips tipped absently her naturally rosy-coloured lips, pursuing Jude's stare.

"Yeah, that's right! Yar fathar can confess about it too." The blonde replied as her lip curled.

"It's true I've chosen your mother as my right hand. She seemed serious, diligent and fascinating at first sight lady. It was a dynamic and marvelous adventure by working together as a nun and priest as our duties were saving wretched souls and travelling both to other places on holy missions. No need explainations why it's the first woman I've ever laid eyes on her, to be honest!"

"Everything is possible even when its moral laws limit and prejudices limit yar chances of miracles happening around ya." In this moment, the juvenile singer inhaled inwardly as the rosy scent of her mother's waterfall of silken tow-colored curly tresses reached her nose, taunting her nostrils. 

"Indeed! So Tim, what about yar story too?" Meantime, the former woman of the cloth patted affably, gamely her husband's shoulder by encouraging him to make a revelation of his memories or moments, regardless how gruesome or mad they are. 

"Okay, I don't want to be murdered or something but it was the time when," He paused by clearing dramatically his throat, seconds before resuming his utterance as the syllables were vaulted of his lips. The both ladies' utter attention was focused on the English aristocrat, without averting their stares away in the space or somewhere else. "I eventually gave my virtue to somebody special and this somebody special person is your mother."

"You shouldn't be ashamed of yarself for giving your virtue to a loving woman, father!" The brunette chewed her bottom plump lip as her complexion was vaporized in blush.

"I know. I'm not ashamed at all! From the day when my virtue was gone and Judy embraced it, I'd never regret my choice."

--- Flashback ---

--- June 1942 ---

"Ooooh! Fuck!" Another muffled moan zinged her rosy-coloured, damp lips as he was pinning her weightless body, trapped by his legs which were dangled around her pelvis, leaning against her as his ivory, firm teeth were nibbling the silken skin of her neck, planting infectiously sultry kisses as her pubic bone sensed his erected bulge hankering for its release from the boxers as the both lovers laid on the nun's hardwood desk wearing nothing than their lingerie. Their ecclesiatical attires of the clergy were discarded on the cemented flooring, as a result of their sensual battlefield which became the austere, unwelcoming office for the majority of the visitors. "Please, Timothy, make love to me!" Her emotional pleas floated as the decibels of her voice escalated along with the moans and groans, forming a choir. 

Instead of answering her, another ferocious kiss pecked her neck as his wet tongue traced by licking all the way from her neck downward, slithering with its ill-defined saliva along by indicating alongside her collarbone, afterwards slithering down to her bosom as his lips shifted up to the roundness, firmness of her breast until his tongue dabbed the pinkish areola as it poked with tongue tip her erected nipple, wedging his lips as they contracted its firmness. 

"Oh my fucking God! That feels so damn good." The former lewd jazz nightclub singer in the local bars cussed in hoarse voice, clutching tightly her eyelids in slits as she ran vigorously her slim, long fingers through his dark hair and relishing the erotic moment. "Don't stop, please, honey!" She emboldened him in velvety voice to not halt with teasing her.

His other hand cupped her other breast as his solely free hand moved down to her lacy, ebony black panties which were the only garment which hugged her almost stark body by kneading her hard clit through the fabric. Their hearts hammered heavily in their ribs. 

--- End of Flashback---

"If you excuse me, I need to pee!" Odette excused herself by getting from the couch sluggishly as her body muscles' stamina were as tough as an elder person's ones, gasping sorely in pain after getting from the furniture as a soothed, serene smile was tattooed on her face. 

"Oh, these women!" 

"The pregnant women, Tim!" Jude corrected him by swatting his kneecap in jeering manner as a smug, mischievous grin blossomed on her lips. In the meanwhile, the both former members of the clergy couldn't repress chuckles, shaping a symphony ensemble. "And let's not forget one more memory with Odette, despite she just glanced at the sofa here,"

"Shu, shu, shu, Judy!" The both middle-aged adults couldn't halt their chuckles which escalated to guffaws, filling the two-story mansion with life and positive vibes. "If you need to clean yourself, join Odette's club, because I'm going to check on the flowers outside, if you don't mind."

"Of course, I don't mind!"

To be continued...