Jude paced in her chambers, fingers tugging at her bottom lip. She was a nervous wreck. What if something happens? What if he gets caught? What if one of these loonies decides to climb their cell door and get their dick stuck in the grating again? Then he'll have to go take care of that situation and there won't be any -

[knock knock] Quietly. Subtle. Like they'd discussed. The coast was clear.

Her door was unlocked, anticipating his arrival. She opened it swiftly, a whisper in the recently-oiled hinges. He was a shadow in a darkened hallway, looking right and left, ever vigilant.

She couldn't contain a sinful grin. "Hey." Tugged him in by his sleeve.

"Jude," He hissed. "We can't keep meeting this way." But he chuckled.

She swatted his arm, salivating. "Hush, Frank. Did ya get 'em?"

"Yeah, yeah...of course I got 'em. Nice and cold too." He dug in his deep pockets. "Hid 'em in the meat locker all day." Two frosty Cheerwines in his hands.

"Oh, God bless ya!" She grabbed one.

Frank was at her desk, popping his top against the cherry wood. "Ya need me ta -" She popped her top, too - like he'd taught her a week earlier. "Well, look at you," he whistled. "Ya won't be needin' your salty old security guard anymore now, will ya?"

Jude held up a finger, indicating she had a response, but she was busily drinking the deep red concoction encased in contraband glass bottle. Frank blushed a little, grateful for the low lighting in her chambers.

They'd done this a few times, now - met for sodas. And he should have been used to it by now. The way her blonde curls gleamed. The motion in her neck as she drank. Her wet lips when she licked them, satisfied.

She certainly seemed used to him, anyway. Obviously comfortable enough to tiptoe around barefoot in her nightgown when he visited. But, he supposed...surely she wouldn't see him the way he saw her. She was a woman of the cloth, after all. A devoted sister.

Who just happened to have legs as long at the Tobin Bridge. He could see the shadow of them through the pure white of her long gown, especially by the firelight. He could see a lot of shadows through that long gown. And they were all very nice.

Or very bad. He chastised himself, sipping soda. Couldn't argue those brown eyes, though. Those were gorgeous. And that megawatt smile... He would sneak her sodas to the end of time to bask in that big smile.

Finally, she lowered the bottle. He waited for the lick, then the deep breath. "Damn, that's good, Frank." She covered a ladylike belch, still giggling after, and his heart melted...again.

"Always, Jude." He sipped. Avoided her eyes when she studied him a little more closely than usual.

Something was off tonight. She cocked her head, eyeing him suspiciously. Her favorite employee was...not his usual self. His dashing smile was a little more pensive tonight. His grey-blue eyes more grey than blue. Less twinkle. More looking away.

She approached her desk where he leaned, put a hand (cold from the soda bottle) against his arm. "Y'alright, Frank?"

"Hm?" He finally met her eyes - for only a moment. "Yeah, of course. Everything's fine."

But no, something definitely bothered the handsome widower. She didn't like it. "Ya aren't getting worried about these sodas, are ya?" She reassured him. "I put the bottles in the contraband drawer. I've been telling the Monsignor that they're confiscated. He doesn't care, Frank! I mean, honestly, in the grand scheme of things -"

"Aw, Jude." He chuckled. "I'd bring ya Cheerwines even if the Monsignor found out. He could fire me, himself." A grin. "I tell ya what - I'd climb up the storm drain right outside this window. Every night. With a pocket full of Cheerwine. Tappin' on ya window."

And for some reason - some lonely, desperate, longing reason - his words sprung tears in her eyes. "Frank..." She whispered. Her hand was still on his arm. She let it slide to his hand. "You - yar a good man."

Too good.

She turned away before it got too much again. The feeling. The little flutter. Discreetly wiped her eyes. "Tell me a joke."

"Hmmmm." He thought for a moment. "I dunno tonight, Jude. I don't think I got any nice clean ones."

"So tell me a dirty one." She sat on her desk, let her hair hide her happiness. Anything to keep him here - just a little while longer.

"I can't tell a nun a dirty joke!" He insisted.

"Ya can tell this one!" She poked his shoulder with her soda bottle. "Come on. I know you and the boys are down there all day with nothing bettah to do than -"

"Okay, okay, okay!" He glanced around as if suspecting someone would leap from a shadowy corner and persecute them. "Alright. Here goes: These two great white sharks are swimming in the ocean, right?" She nodded, excited. "Well, they look up and see these survivors of a sunken ship. 'Follow me, son.' The father shark says to the son shark and they swim up on all these folks. Yeah?" She was already on the verge of laughter, encouraging him to go on with hand motions. "So the dad shark gives his boy a lesson. Says, 'First we swim around them a few times with just the tip of our fins showing.' So's they did. 'Well done, son! Now we swim around them a few times with all of our fins showing.' So's they did. And finally, dad goes, 'Now we eat everybody!' So's they did." Jude's hands covered her mouth, anticipating. "Now. Ya got two fat sharks swimmin' around and the son asks, 'Dad, why didn't we just eat them all at first? Why did we swim around and around 'em like that?' Dad doesn't bat an eye, says to his boy, 'Because they taste better without all the shit inside!'"

He spread his hands wide, delivering the punchline with a loud guffaw. Slapped his thigh. Jude smiled, but... "What?" He asked. "That's funny!"

She rolled her eyes. "I guess it was funny."

"Ya aren't laughin'."

"I thought ya had a dirty joke, Frank."

"Whaaat?!" He snorted. "That is dirty! It's got shit in it!"

She shrugged. "I just feel like ya can do bettah than that, is all."

He sipped his soda. The idea of disappointing her - even with a joke - was debilitating. He sighed heavily. "Alright. Ya twisted my arm." The megawatt smile returned. "But don't say I didn't warn ya!" He cleared his throat, ignored the big brown eyes wide with anticipation. "So. This married couple is having a dinner party for some important guests. The wife is all excited about this and a'course she's wantin' everything to be perfect. At the very last minute, she realizes that she don't got any escargot for the dinner party, so she asks her husband to run down to the beach with this bucket and gather some snails." He paused. "Ya follow?"

"Yeah, yeah. Snails." She poked him again.

"So of course he agrees, right? Happy wife. He takes the bucket, walks out the door, down the steps, and out to the beach. Well, as he's collecting the snails, guess what."

"What?" She asked, sipping Cheerwine.

"He sees this knock-out blonde - like you, say - strolling alongside the water just a little further down the beach." And if he heard her breath catch in that delivery, he didn't acknowledge it. "So, he thinks to himself, 'Wouldn't it be great if she would even just come down here and talk ta me?' But, he's shy and married and all, so he just goes back to pickin' snails, yeah?" She nodded, a little pink, and a little warm. "Well, lo and behold, all of a sudden he looks up, and this devil angel woman is standing right beside him. So, what happens, they start talkin' and she's friskier than a can of cat food and invites him back to her place." He paused again, looked at Jude. "Ya okay so far?"

"Frank, tell the joke!" She hissed, punching his arm.

"Alright, alright!" He took a deep breath. "Well. You know what happens, I reckon. They end up...you know..."

She raised a challenging brow. "...pickin' snails togethah?"

"No!" He gave her an entirely unnecessary aside. "They end up spending the night together. Like...in bed. Naked. You know..."

"Argh, yes! Frank, I get it!" This joke was killing her. He was killing her. Her vows were killing her.

"Long story short," Frank continued gamely. "Cuz it was a loooong story, if ya get me." She blushed deeper. "At seven o'clock the next morning he wakes up and hollers, 'Oh no! My wife's dinner party!' So he grabs all his kit, puts it on real fast, snags his bucket, and tears ass out the door. He runs down the beach all the way to his apartment. Runs up the stairs, but he's in such a hurry that when he gets to the top of the stairs, he drops his bucket and snails go flyin' everywhere! So what's the worst thing can happen now? Well, I'll tell ya: the door suddenly opens and there's his old lady mad as a hornet in a handbag wondering where he's been all this time. He looks up at her, looks down at the snails all over the steps, then back at her, then back at the snails and says, 'Come on fellas, we're almost there!'"

And that bought him a full-fledged laugh. In fact, Jude bent double, clutching her belly. "That's bettah, Frank! That's much bettah."

"Whew." He wiped his brow dramatically. "I got a little nervous midway through."

"I could tell." She patted his shoulder. Seemed shy for a second. Considering. "Um...you want me to tell you one?"

"You got a joke, Jude? Yeah! Let's hear it!"

"Okay." She bit her lips. "How many priests does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

Frank blinked. He hadn't been expecting that kind of joke. "Er...I don't know. How many."

She shrugged. "Might as well get a nun to do it. Priests can't screw anything."

Total delayed reaction. But when it hit..."Holy mother!" Frank's head flew back in laughter. His cap fell off on Jude's desk. "I didn't see that one comin' Jude!"

His joy was deep and resonant. A full masculine laugh. She loved it. Loved that she'd brought it out of him. She snatched his cap from her desk, put it on her own head. "Shhh, shhh, shhhh!" She hushed him. "Somebody'll hear us!" But she was barely containing her own laughter, too. "Frank. Frank." She sobered suddenly, leaning toward him.

"Huh?" He leaned toward her, a little worried.

"I'll tell ya one more, but it's so secret. And I swear if I ever hear tell from yar lips that it came from my lips, I'll rip yar lips off. Kay?" He nodded, now staring at her lips. "Okay. So. Four nuns are standing in line at the gates of heaven. Peter asks the first nun if she's evah sinned. 'Well, once I looked at a man's penis,' she says." Frank started a bit, but Jude rolled on as if nuns looked at penises every day. "So Peter says, 'Put some of this holy water on yar eyes and you may enter heaven.' Easy enough, right?" Frank nodded. Jude's warm breath was brushing his ear. "So then Peter asks the second sister if she evah sinned. And guess what. She has. Says, 'Well, once I held a man's penis.'" She pulled back from him for a moment, making eye contact. "By the way Frank, this is pretty much an accurate representation of how the Church handles things of this nature, so...yar welcome for the theology lesson."

"Thanks, Jude." She leaned back toward him. Her breath smelled like Cheerwine. He was ultimately relieved she wasn't looking any lower, because thoughts of nuns' hands on penises - especially in his current company - had had a rather surprising effect on his anatomy.

"So Peter looks at the handy nun and says, 'Put yar hand in this holy water and you may enter heaven.' Well, all of a sudden the fourth nun pushes ahead of the third nun! And there's no cutsies in Heaven, Frank, so Peter asks, 'Ay! Why'd you push ahead in line?' And she says, 'Cuz I wanna gargle with it before this bitch sits in it!"

Frank nearly fell over. Would have if Jude hadn't caught him around the shoulders. Again, their laughter combined, snorts and snickers. They leaned against each other for support and muffling. "Christ, Jude!" Frank hurt from laughter. He rubbed at his bright red face, catching the tears that had run uncontrollably.

They shook together for a while, laughter being contagious, and they'd managed to generate a serious case of it. Finally catching their breath, Frank noticed three things:

Jude was wearing his hat. And it was...dangerously sexy.

Jude's face was less than an inch from his own, and her little hot puffs of breath were damning.

Jude's arms still rested loosely on his shoulders, fingertips barely stroking his neck, earlobe, or jaw.

He swallowed. "Christ, Jude," he muttered again. But differently this time. His brain didn't think. Should have, but didn't. His hands cradled her head so suddenly, fingers finally tangling in those rampant golden curls.

But it wasn't so quick that she couldn't have stopped it. He knew that. She could have slapped him in a second. Would have. If she'd wanted. Or not wanted. Not wanted him to kiss her. Which he did. Hard. Sticky Cheerwine lips against sticky Cheerwine lips and it felt so fucking good and she made a little moan and the fingers weren't barely stroking anymore they were really stroking and her sweet tongue tickled against his just a little bit every once in a while and this was a woman who knew how to kiss.

She could have stopped it. Should have stopped it. She knew that. For innumerable reasons she should have stopped it. She was a nun, for fuck's sake, and that was reason enough alone. But she was already breathless with laughter and now she was breathless with kissing so she blamed oxygen deprivation for the fact that what was happening in the back of her mind simply wasn't translating to the front of her mind.

Truth was, his mouth tasted so goddamn good, and he was so goddamn good - the sweetest, kindest, gentlest secret soda-bearing Romeo a nun could ask for and he could really kiss, too. And his hands were so big, so firm, holding her jaw like they were made for it and his pinkies were stroking that spot behind her ears that made her belly flip in the most addictive way and how long had it been? Since she'd been kissed? Since...any of that? She couldn't calculate at the moment. Didn't want to. She just wanted - "Frank!" She gasped against his lips, not pulling away, but turning her head just enough that he slid his kiss along her jaw down her neck.

"Jude," he growled against her shoulder, shoving the neck of her gown aside with his face.

And she knew multiple mistakes were about to be made. Multiple infarctions were being tallied - against Briarcliff, against the church. Multiple risks were being taken - his job, her job, her position in the very church. There were multiple reasons why she should shove him away, kick him out of her chambers, ban further sodas, transfer him to another institution, never look at his handsome, gentle, kind, loving face again.

But there were possibly multiple reasons to continue. And she wanted to find each one. "Frank!"

"I know, I know!" He mewled helplessly against her pulse. "I'll stop, I'll stop. Jude, forgive me. Please -"

"Frank!" She hissed as his tongue slid up her neck to that spot behind her ear again. "Frank, come ta bed with me!"

"Ya bed?" He stepped back, pushed away as she slid off the desk, maneuvering him toward her bed. She was shakily popping buttons on his jacket.

He tried so hard - so damn hard - to rationalize. To make sense. To stop them. He really did. He even said: "Sister Jude, we shouldn't -"

"Oh, yar gonna call me Sister now, Frank, when ya just took yar tongue out of my mouth? Help me get this off!" She was tugging at his belt now.

He dropped supplies. His gun. His baton. His badge. Finally the belt slid through its hoops and he wanted to kiss her again. "Jude -"

"My name's Judy."

"Huh?" A grunt when she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.

"My real name's Judy."

He stilled her hands for just a second - needing just a second to process, to prepare. "Judy," he repeated solemnly. "I like that." Her bed bumped the back of his legs. He sat, allowing her to tug his shirt free while he kicked off his shoes.

She straddled his lap, pulling her gown over her head. She wore nothing underneath it. There was so much material and when it was finally gone, Frank stilled her again, staring at her beautiful body. "Christ, Judy..."

"Touch me, Frank."

He didn't have to be told twice and her responsiveness was addicting. Soon she was pushing him back on the bed, tugging down his underwear. "Judy."

"Hm?" Back up his body, all business. She was wet and eager. He could feel the heat and the moisture against his straining erection.

"This isn't a joke, is it?"

She froze for a moment, her entrance dripping welcome onto the tip of his cock. "Oh, Frank," she breathed, sinking with a guttural groan. "If this is a joke, yar gonna love the punchline."

His head furled back again, but not on a laugh this time. "Christ, Judy!"

"Shhh!" Jude slapped a hand over his mouth, well aware how sound traveled in the hallowed halls of Briarcliff. But even she was having trouble stifling her vocals. "Oh, fuck!" She yelped when he bottomed out. Frank returned her favor, placing his hand over her mouth. She growled behind it, set a pace of rising and falling on his lap that he could not have set himself.

There was a burn. The pain of having been a long time. But it lent itself to the overall over-stimulation. He felt just fucking right and she had to tell him. Pulled his hand from her mouth to her breast where he squeezed. "Frank, ya feel just fucking right," she whispered tightly.

He pulled her hand from his mouth, bit the heel of it. "Judy, yer a goddamn dream come true. Tell me what ya need, doll baby." His voice was gruff and all man and she loved it. His words worked wonders in her cunt and she was already clenching.

"Keep talkin' ta me like that and I'm yars!" She spoke right against his ear, still fighting to keep her primitive responses under control. She shifted closer, higher on her knees to get that extra press - that extra zing - from his belly against her clit and that was everything. "Oh, shit. You were built for me ta fuck, Frank."

"Sweetheart, yer killin' me!" He gripped her hips. "Git yers so's I can flip ya and drill ya into this mattress. Come on, Judy." He encouraged quietly in her straining neck. She was whining him a hymn. "I hear ya close now, baby. Ride it on out. Feel good for me. I wanna feel ya milk me dry."

It caught up so fast - almost too fast - his voice, his words, the way his hands spread and groped her ass cheeks and the tinny, heady, annoying peal of pleasure in her apex threatening to destroy her good sense. She wrapped his shoulders, keeping him sealed to her, bit her own wrist to stop the burgeoning litany of profanity and uncontrollable groans, moans, growls and mewls that spewed forth when she came.

"There ya are, beautiful." Frank wrapped her, too, couldn't still the quaking in her and certainly didn't want to. "That's my gal." He peppered her neck and shoulders with sweet, quiet kisses as she wound down.

"Frank," she whimpered. Turned his face to kiss his lips. "Oh, my god."

"Yeah, you're about ta have me prayin', too, Judy." He grinned against her lips. Maneuvered them fully onto her turned down bed. "Think I can make ya do that again?"

"I dare ya."

"Mmm, let's see then." He knelt, gripping Jude by the hips and pulling her pelvis back up to his bobbing erection.

"Oh!" She propped on her elbows. Frank was a strong one. She made to rise, but he stilled her with a hand on her belly.

"Nah. Stay like that, firecracker." His thumb stroked her sensitized clit as he took his tumescence in hand, guiding it. She hissed. The angle stroked that magic cluster that she could only ever reach when she was on top. He watched her expression reflect pleasure and groaned. "Yeah. Just let me work now, huh?" The thumb stroked again so lightly and she arched, clutched her own mouth and sheet. "I'm a hard worker, Judy."

He held her hips steady and fucked her, loved the feel of that firm part of her stroking the head of his cock. And if he wasn't mistaken, she was loving it, too. He kept his touch light on her clit, knowing that little button could get testy. He trusted she would tell him if anything was off. He'd doubted his stamina initially. It had been so long since he'd had this particular joy. But she was just the sexiest goddamned thing he'd ever seen and he managed to stave off embarrassment for the sake of watching her tits shake with every thrust.

Jude's toes were curling. She could feel them. Along with that lovely frond curl in her belly - again - which was simply amazing. He was awfully leisurely about this, and while she had no complaints, she was impatient for that release one more time. "Frank, harder." She gritted behind her hand. "Faster."

Sweat beaded on his brow. "Ya ready, sugar?" He rose a little more on his knees, dug the balls of his feet into her mattress to deliver her requests. "Yeah, I am too. Aw, hell, Judy." The faster pace was fantastic. Harder just came with the territory and in minutes she was seizing on him again, head turned to sputter and snarl into her pillow. "Good girl," he choked. He let his shaking knees give and fell on her, immediately in her arms. "Beautiful, Judy. Fuck! I need ta -" He made to pull out of her, but she wrapped those sinful legs around his hips.

"Yar fine. Come in me." She licked his ear and let him finish - growling and gasping against her shoulder - in that sloppy, broken rhythm that does nothing for the ladies but everything for the fellas because... Well, he'd certainly done enough for this lady.

They were decadently filthy. Completely breathless. And Frank was heavy atop her still. She loved it. Stroked his back. "Good job, Frank."

"Thanks, boss." He groaned as he rolled away from her. "Woah!" As he nearly rolled off her mattress. She caught him, both laughing, and they struggled to find space beneath her sheets. Finally managed to settle together with about an inch on either side.

"You were right. That was no joke." He stared at her ceiling, still not quite believing what had transpired between them. But the sticky sweat binding them was undeniable. He kissed her shoulder. And salty.

She propped against his ribs, not wanting to sober from lust-drunk. "Ya can't stay, Frank," she said reluctantly, frowning.

"I know." He stole a kiss. "But uh...maybe instead of Cheerwines from now on..."

She pursed her lips, considering. "I mean, I'd still like ta have a cold pop, Frank."

He rolled his eyes, caressing her back beneath crisp sheet. "Of course. Cold pop, then...hot sex?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Good way to stay hydrated."

"That's very health conscious of ya." She sat up and stretched. Her neck popped. Shoulder clicked. Good workout.

He swung his legs over the side of her bed, looking for his underwear. She plucked them from within the mussed bedding, slung them over his shoulder. "Thanks, Judy." He stood, dressing. She watched him, a touch of sadness on her face. He handed her her nightgown sheepishly. "Maybe you could get yaself a bigger bed?"

"Who says we always have to use the bed?" She smirked.

"Christ, Judy." He chuckled, buttoning his pants. He bent for his hat, his gun, his baton. They'd really managed to make a mess. Fully bedecked, he turned to her. "It's gonna be hard for me to look at ya in that habit everyday and not picture ya like this."

She smiled. "Same here." It was true. "Frank."

"Yeah?"

"You were..." But she could only grin. Let her head fall on her raised knees.

At her door, he winked at her. "You, too, Judy." He opened the door quietly, checked the hall and found it safe. "Oh!" He poked his head back in, whispering. "What do ya call a sexy nun?"

"What?" She hissed.

"A challenge." Her door clicked shut behind him as she collapsed into her pillows, muffling her own laughter.

"I simply can't understand how we are incurring all of these glass soda bottles." Monsignor Timothy Howard scratched his head.

Jude spread her hands opposite him behind her desk. "The mystery rages on, I'm afraid, Father. Thankfully Frank has managed so far to confiscate each one before any breaking or injuries."

"Excellent work." He rummaged through the contraband drawer, shaking his head at the weekly contents. Shanks. A snowglobe. Yo-yo. A few jacks (no ball). A pornographic magazine. He made a moue of distaste. "Frank is a vigilant and...thorough man."

"I agree wholeheartedly." Jude hoped her boss would attribute the color in her cheeks to the presence of the nudie magazine.

"Perhaps have him investigate the source of our bottle problem. See what he can't glean." Timothy smiled reassuringly at her. "I know it seems such a trivial issue, but these seemingly negligible instances of materials entering on a regular basis could be a sign of something more sinister brewing."

"I'm glad you agree, Father." Jude rose. "Frank and I have even considered the frightening possibility that this is...an inside job. Probably night shift when we're on a skeleton crew."

His handsome face betrayed horror. "I pray that is not the case, Sister Jude. Do you suppose there is a way we can ascertain that plausibility?"

She shrugged, as nonchalant as possible. "I could personally work with Frank. Perhaps beef up the security on nights a few days a week and...borrow Frank as a sort of...spy. Sneak about together?"

The Monsignor snapped his fingers. "A brilliant idea, Sister. But won't that mean quite a few sleepless nights for you?"

She bowed her head to hide her grin. "A temporary sacrifice for the betterment of Briarcliff, Father. One I'm happy to make."

Timothy squeezed her shoulder. "You are a blessing to me, Sister. You and Frank have my approval for these night shift investigations. I trust you'll report back your findings." He was headed to her door, keen to get on with the day's business. "Oh! However, I recommend being as discreet as possible, Sister Jude. So as not to in any way alert the culprit."

She licked her lips. "I assure ya, Monsignor. We'll be practically invisible." She could hardly wait to share her little manipulation with Frank. He'd get a real kick outta this one...