Author's Note: This one-shot is a Halloween special one with 2 of my favorite OTPs which are going to be the mains in this Halloween special work! Be warned this one-shot is going to be a dynamic roller coaster of trick or treating and sweltering heat, besides quite long so be ready! I hope you like and enjoy it, besides once you finish reading it, do not bother to leave a feedback! It will be kindly appreciated! 

Furthermore, this one-shot has its own playlist under the name Trick or Sin on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5QEiih0bNbql4eqHT89cLl !

♡♡♡♡Last but not least, that's a dedication to my Wattpad pals and in general pals jlangster_, Yararebird, miss_jessica_lange_, evanporn, untouchable_mtrain, barnesthor-, winnieandrs , JessieLangeFan,  Celeste-Moore, MrsBarthes , peopleareweirdaf, southernauthor, sunbreads, Meryl_Brosnan, paolo_avis,  TeodoraT7, TheEliKeita, JessicaLangeLove, __sarange__ and PrettyBitchin11 ! Regardless, if we have spoken to one another for awhile or like exchanging a couple of comments solely, nevertheless, feel special for the dedication and love all of you!♡♡♡♡ 

Trigger Warning for 💀Sexual Content, Strong Language, Oral Sex, Tipsiness, Fingering, Threesome💀

--- *** ---

Halloween like every other day of the year except the prominent Christian holidays which were emulating somehow to the lifestyle of Sister Jude and the other staff members in the notorious madhouse. Nothing prominent was happening except doing their own job to punish and grant cruder retribution to the patients for their misbehaving with solitary confidement and canes welting and wounding their stark rears, besides they monstrously eager supervising them whether if they're taking their own medicaments, having their regular meals like twice a day and working persistently in the bakery as an addition to knead the dough-shaped breads before being put in the oven and subsequently freshly baking them for their meals. Sister Jude has almost never been a fan of Halloween unlike her childhood when she could recall a couple of times borrowing the fewest friends of her's random attires which they were providing her to disguise herself as something different to be sufficiently questionable to the people who weren't Halloween dogmatists at all. Something peculiar to not be merely parallel to the casual clothing that was muscle-clad. Something finely spooky and emulating to the western event and trick or treating while her mother Hazel was strong-willedly working double shifts as a maid in a hotel.

The patients were still occupying sufficient space in the common room with their ballads of babbles, banging frequently their heads in the brick, lifeless walls or doing something else to bring modicum sense in their bland lives as destined to spend the rest of their days inside a madhouse.

As usually, the blonde was discussing with her boss in her austere, unwelcoming office about the contradicted emptied boxes which once comprised food supplies and ingredients for the bakery and excessively used in their culinary skills which were at the range of novice to artisan.

At the moment, the office door was unknowledgably askew opened with a small space of gap being sufficiently taunting for the passing staff members or dragged inmates to peer due to their childlike inquisitiveness or on the contrary, their presence was just obligated to be situated in the office due to galore of reasons.

"I'm so glad the food supplies and ingredients which are pretty useful for the patients' culinary skills were already delivered even installed in the bakery, Sister!" A sheepishly boyish, complacent smile zipped the British compatriot's pale-pinkish, satinly-soft lips, squinting up his lowered smoky quartz gemstones at his right hand's parchment, elderly-youthful heavy-clad wrinkles, oddly indicated yet her still appealing complexion. What it made immensely proud the British compatriot was his right hand's indisputable responsibility and dedication to her work which refilled her hectic schedule.

"Fairly simple! It's always a pleasure to do something meaninful for the institution's prosperity, Father!" Even when pleasure bizarrely sounded on Judy's tongue tip after emitting the word which was far from appropriate a member of the clergy to peel it promptly, nevertheless, profuse blush powdered mildy her cheeks with cherry pigment, unknowledgably heating the facial skin hypodermically, reclining on the chair whilst her dainty palish fingers were knotted as one. "They'd need them for anything they'd like to cook or at least the nuns using them in their exquisite culinary." A sigh of relief flushed her constricted chest to course at the top of her brittle lungs the cloudy oxygen for proper breathing.

"That's why once a week they're being delivered to Briarcliff or twice a week once the supplies are peaking to be excessively used in the bakery." In the meanwhile, Timothy idly, instinctively shoved his mammoth, stiffily veiny hands in the pockets of his jet-black wool, convenient slacks. Sheer eloquence vomited in his utterance, oozing of his well-scholared character and professionalism.

"They've always to be out of its amount almost in the end of the week. No wonder what turmult of culinary show they're creating!" The genuine rare times whenever Judy demonstrated her childlike side with the goofy jokes and sense of humor in front of Timothy were like once a day or whenever they're in the middle of discussing something professionally grave, involving greatly their business and mental institution's supplies they're currently equipped with. The sole true friends or at least people whom the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer could count on showing her genuine nature with her goofy side were Frank, Timothy and somewhat Mother Claudia with Sister Mary Eunice.

"I don't want even to imagine, Jude!" Their healthily sore snickers clicked the roof of their mouths, pitching the austere, dimly light office with the contagious merry, oozing of their light-spirited aura. The fewest times whenever the aspiring Monsignor could demonstrate modicum of humour even his sensitivity, immune to old soul's seriousness were the punchline of his rare bird's jokes and foreshadowing the sequence of his sincere, beaming smiles, perching upon his porcelain, handsomely young-looking complexion.

"Don't even try to imagine what huge fire they'd put on the bakery!"

"Not every one of them at all!"

"Think twice! There are some clumsy cooks." Meantime, the menacing grins to open in a wide O their mouths were highly increasing the chances to dwell out of the professional realm and populate the corners of their creative quips, when the security guard peered surreptitiously through the compact gap which gave him sufficiently efficient, good view of his friend conversating and relishing her boss's company. The little green monster haphazardly crawled out of its miniature shell and roughly grained the older man's still undeniably handsome facial attributes with the sufficient ounce, weighed heavily and inked on his parchment complexion. At the moment, the former cop's meaty, masculinely strong fingers stubbornly, steadily danced around the wooden doorframe surreptitiously, barely motioning them anywhere else to sidetrack either of the devotional members of the church instantly without an ado even being caught in trouble. "For example Martha may ain't be the big-shot in culinary, however, she once verged the bakery on fire for overbaking the breads."

"Well, Briarcliff isn't a culinary show! Are you up to something tonight?"

"H-How do ya think, Timothy?" Meantime, mischievously haughty grin curved her lips, baring her beautifully ivory teeth with the megawatt quality of her grin, adorning her porcelain, elderly youthful complexion, maneuvering her fidgety dainty fingers to reach for her stray flossy aureate strands that framed her oval, full profile and girlishly, coyly fingers, twirling and curling them between her digits like an ordinary schoolgirl under the ambiguous stare of the aspiring Monsignor who noticed even the pettiest details behind his right hand's mannerism in her body language and utterances, speaking volumes about her physique in general. Even when the Bostonian had meager plans on mind about Halloween with exception to painfully confine herself inside the nefariously dilapidating mental hospital's façade, looking after and punishing the wretched souls for their riot side's blatant demonstration, she assimilated and reconsidered the aspiring Monsignor's enquiry twice at least. Pinkness itchily tickled her chubby, well-carved cheeks and uncomfortably sweltering heat crawling beneath her facial skin, indicating her demure, insecure side in situations where she could scarcely be the genuine source of the answer the owner's question is seeking eagerly."I'm too old for this if yar keeping in mind, I'd celebrate Halloween by myself." The sheer timbres of sarcasm spotlighted her huskily coy giggle, clicking the roof of her mouth, her lower abdomen breezily, delightfully ached due to her contagious glee.

"I remember so far that when I was a little boy even in the beginning of my teenage years, I and my brothers even my younger sister celebrate it."

"Yar such a lucky fellow, you know!"

"Even my older brother with whom I've never got along was anyway wildly fun celebrating Halloween by trick or treating in the nearby neighbourhoods." The homesickness of the British aristocrat that hit him with an abruptly perky slap across his facial features which were softened with naked woeful mirth, due to his rich recollection of memories from his childhood and adolescence. His stormy tempest of thoughts was a home of homesickening memories if it's always been a forbidden sanctum of every member of the church to ponder over their impure thoughts. "Those childhood times were the greatest. I remember how my brothers were having a food fight, while I and my younger sister Anna were just sitting in the corner of the living room and eating calmly our collected sweets from the houses we paid a visit. We were rather the quiet and calm children in our family."

"Sweet Jesus!" The medley of sweetness and bitterness, lacing the pious sister of the church's tongue while peeling the forbidden cussing that was far from acceptable from a revered nun to peel it on her own, she stilled her spidery palish, weathered with starkly vague coldness fingers across the perkily rebellious golden curls, spiraling around her delicate digits and even her persevering attempt to asphyxiating series of nervous, demure chuckles with the raspiest tones, composed in each unidentified syllable after capturing her lower lip basting between her front teeth, the chuckles were inevitably natural and far from reluctant. "I didn't know ya had a wonderful childhood and ya did celebrate Halloween, despite judging your piousness."

"I was just a kid," A heavy sigh flushed his nose, shrugging bashfully his muscularly broad shoulders even though the duo yet wondered how from such a professional topic about the bakery they gambled to tread in quite pleasantly personal space and most of all, discussing a Western holiday that is essentially celebrated by the younger generation with some of their families who weren't amidst the wealthiest people in the entire country. Nevertheless the personal and platonic closure Jude gained due to the very personal colloquy with the British aristocrat boosted their relationship perpetually, strong-willedly even aiding both of them to crawl out of their shells for awhile and just open up themselves in front of each other about their personal lives, reminiscing their childhood and adolescence' luxurious memories in a medley of trauma, merriness, pangs of conscience and reliefs. "Then! But I read the Holy Bible about more than fifty times and you don't have any idea since my young adulthood I haven't even dared to think twice about that unholy holiday. It's already dead to me, my beliefs and vows. Purely dead!"

"I haven't even thought about Halloween like for decades or rather the last time when I celebrated it, I was a fricking kid. But tell me more about yar brother."

"Which one?" The oddness in maintaining superbly intimate proximity with the older woman and ambling up to her effortlessly as while tossing one of her petite, marbled hands, consequently grappling them in a gentlemanly squeeze, binding them in his larger, secure hands, softening his benevolently sympathetic smile, tattooed on his face.

"The one ya aren't getting alolng pretty much." The uncomfortable warmness, fastening the grip of the duo's hands sent paradoxal shivers down Judy's spine and body of cardiac sweetness, pleasure and vague, unnerved embarrassment. This time her exquisitely cherub, naturally roseate lips mitigated her self-esteem with a featherly dainty, girlish smile, sheepishly texturing the flexed feminine jaw line.

"Oh! James!" The heart rate rapidly increased with fierce rabidness, affecting the violent thuds in her ribcage at the sudden, meek gasp, rolling out of Timothy's strawberry-coloured, wet tongue after the sea expelling and sending series of wavelets, dashed to the beach coast. "Even if I loved him as my own brother, because he's my brother, we had many disagreements and he wasn't even considering himself a decent Catholic. James was actually an atheist and believing in Satan rather than God. He didn't even see any association with the light and God." Shaking continuously in a choir his head, throughout his pale-pinkish, plumpish lips managed to flatten in a binded purse, squeezing tighter his rare bird's elvish, weathered icily hands and the tads of his thumbs maneuvered to knead her brittle knuckles comfortingly, friendly.

"Is he also a Satanist?" The soarness, savoured by her tongue after elaborating the religious term wrenched her honey brown minerals widened in pure shock and blowminding disbelief, factly, the fewest Satanists that have ever jingled its tunes into her ears with the genuine construction of the word, were painfully uncommon nowadays.

"Unfortunately, yes! Since his young adulthood, his true devotion to Satan and its occultism became his abrupt obsession even religiously."

"What it has to do with yar hostility?"

"Enough things!" A sharp exhale knitted his toned, muscular chest momentarily, unzipping his lips from the purse while his heart was shattering extrarordinarily perpetual on trillions of glassy fragments, swamping a lavish ocean of somber despondence how weather-beaten was the damage of the discords they had and James's tremendous contempt and abhorrence of his own younger sibling. "I remember when I was a child, he told me once he loved me as his own brother, but when we were already young adults and having our own individual lives with totally different point of views and beliefs, he criticized the Catholic church which was a pure abomination, according to him." In the meanwhile, the security guard was warily eavesdropping the pairing's conversation and a vaguely complacent, lukewarm smirk, envy-textured in its silhouette, obscuring a regular light illuminating his impressively charming facial attributes, mischievously quirking an eyebrow and relishing each fragment of Timothy's revelation, fingertips drumming silently against the oakwood door frame. "And of course, God and anything hallowed was an obnoxious blasphemy for his beliefs and Satanism! Furthermore, when my whole family got back from the church on Christmas, in fact, my family are enough pious to go the church for the special Christian holidays except James who would rather stay at home and practice occultism and Satanism as a typical outsider," Biting his upper lip deftly, the older lady was all ears as always and honing up her ears to assimilate every jingling tune, reconsidering every ounce of the information that was immersing her thoughts. "And seated on the dining table to have lunch, subsequently he picked on me and called me a blasphemic," The bashful unnervedness, troubling him to reproduce the vowels and syllables of the cussing flushed red his parchment, freshly young-looking face, hinting the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer what a ginormous trouble brought to her love interest to utter any word which was out of the adequate clergyman's vocabulary.

"Blasphemic what?"

"Blasphemic asshole!" The sanguine flush, shamefacing the holy man with generous layer of inexorably unbearable heat was readable across his facial features, meanwhile, haphazardly lowering his English lilt's voice once it was high time to slip the cuss immediately and counting on his crystal memories, ideally recalling almost every fragment of his complexly dingy, controversial relationship with his older brother. The bitter flavour of the word urgently seared the corners of his mouth, tightening his relentless frown.

"Shame on yar brother, Tim! I didn't know he'd be capable of insulting you with tremendous hatred due to his zealotry in the occultism and Satanism." Suddenly the religious nun's northern lilt punctured with naked, genuine abhorrence of James's portrayal as if his exact portrayal was parallel to an ill-famed offender, still exceedingly investigated in the entire state by the authorities. No wonder why Judy wasn't very fond of atheists' followers and most of all, believers in Satan's religion! "The brothers are supposed to support and love each other, in spite of their often encountered disagreements but hating each other with every ounce of their being," A frustrated groan with extraordinarily flawless derision sailed out of her plump, naturally mauve lips, stilling her hands in the priest's amicably protective grip, melting into the delicately platonic and hinting romantical intension touch which the former promiscuous nightclub singer has covet to earn or at least experience in tandem with the British aristocrat. How long it has been when a true gentleman or at least ironically metaphoric man has registered modicum of necessary respect and adequate mannerism towards her even manifest his kindheartedness with gingery soft touches and deliciously comforting honey in the utterances and comforts? That was yet a question with outdated answers or at least parallel to the absolute reality's past, associated somehow with flashforward's realm. "The strong hatred is a sin."

"It's undeniable and I told him God will punish him for that sin, but he didn't listen to me. Instead while I was napping and plotting my torture with a knife, he wounded my lower lip and when I woke up, the blood soaked my jaw due to its bleed."

"My goodness!" Her spidery creamy, warmer fingers registered its quiver, shivers cooling her bones and muscles' anatomy with electrifying goosebumps pricking her overall epidermis, whereas her ivory enamel managed to tighten in grit in disgust, squinting up her hazelish-brown irises on his lower lip's inescapably visible scar, embodying a horrendous memory from his past. "It's far from real yar brother to be such a sadist."

"I'm not even finished, but he isn't just a sadist," In the interim, what the British aristocrat could notice presentably, studiously in a transfixed scrutiny into her hazelish-brown jewels, glinting sheer loathing and apprehension for James's deeds, imprinted as tracks on his very being, wryly rueful chuckle dripped from his mouth, meekly bobbing his head. "He is a shame to the family and I don't have any clue why I'm still loving a Satanist, who is capable of almost murdering his brother just because of their feuding religion status. Moveover, he told me once I didn't matter that much to him."

"Even if ya don't share the same beliefs, at least, he hasn't got the right to belittle ya!"

"That was the whole point, however, he didn't want even to keep in touch with me ever again after I joined the church and emigrated there."

"How woeful!" In the meantime, the blonde stifled another frustrated moan with far from obscene timbres, composing her rhetorical utterance and her wet tongue spiralling to moisten in swift motion her upper and lower lips promptly. "If I had such a brother like yars, I'd have kicked him out of my life. I'd never allow such humiliation from his side."

"Aren't you feeling luckier perhaps?"

"It depends." A weak, arcane smirk lounged lazily effortless upon her mouth, ushering her femininely creamy, miniature hands squeeze firmer the grip and flush embellishing her delicately pale neck. "In first place, I'm an only child."

"Good for you!" Surrealistic disappointment rusted her husky gasp under her breath when the betraying coldness frostily, generously lingered on her hands shortly after the aspiring Monsignor managed to release the grasp and returning her a sympathetically altruistic, misty smile decorating his young-looking face. "I shall go as I need to visit one more place according to my schedule right in seven o'clock tonight. See you later, Sister!"

"See ya later, Monsignor!" The smirk softened and pented in an emotionless frown while the radiantly bright sanguine blush cooled its own unendurable heat, bestowing higher body temperature, thus wrestling invincibly with the common chilly climate. Once Timothy fled the office and shutting the office door, Jude ventured to amble up to her hardwood desk as her classily midnight black, elegant chunks thudded monotonously against the concetre.

A mere, unwelcoming hush suffocated the austere office of the Bostonian abruptly blurred her epidermis until the office door swung ajar opened with meager gap to be penetrable for pair of irises, catching her off guard in no time as soon as her elvish hand glided stilling along the wooden material, grazing gingerly her digits and gritting fearfully her teeth, too reluctant to reproduce further, provocative noise.

"What the fresh hell is th-" When the oakwood office door swung even wider askew opened and her disinclination to focus on her further current tasks such as seating on the desk for example, turning to scan in jaded eyeing the skeptically askew opened door, wondering yet who was pranking her on Halloween's early evening and bestowing her unending pressurable awkwardness and instantly, magically blanching with unhealthy pale pigment her facial skin in awfully disorientation. The sole thought that railed her mind was that one of the lunatics might be subtly, vilely mocking her and planning his revenge on the head nun after his monstrous courage bubbled through his veins for the crudely inhumane punishments that were reckoned in canes lashing their bare rears and mapping their delicate, pallid fleshes with ugly welts and plum bruises.

The frequency in the door's swaying forward and backward faintly, bearing a semblance of a hammock's weak dance under the summer's saturating, sweltering sun with its gently waltzing summer breeze, were far from explainable exemplar of tricksterness.

"Boo!" All of a sudden, the former police officer registered pushing the door and seeting a foot in the austere office as his sufficiently tall, stocky frame was propping on the wooden door frame after shutting behind him the door, cooing the scanty vowels and syllables.

An intensifying hush paralyzed the both middle-aged adults as the nun ghosted a trembling miniature, milky hand over her chest gingerly, slowly but surely, opting to recollect the common heart rhythm which was far from accomplished, subsequently jamming shut her eyelids and the only noise that was foregoing to vanish in the thin air was the steadily potent drums in her ribcage, faintly bowing her head docilely, gritting firmly, perpetually her ivory teeth.

In the interim, a complacently jubilant, childish smile seeded past his facial attributes with an ease and woeful mortification slightly stabbed his chest at the vista of almost giving a fatal heart attack to his friend. Even though Frank had his own childish side and manifested it in front of his inner circle deservedly only, anyway he's somewhat fan of Halloween as an autumn holiday and he's visibly excited, although his recent occupation in being in charge of mental hospital's security in the nocturnal's episode.

"Frank, ya aren't supposed to scare people with heart problems!" Meantime, her honey brown cabochons snapped opened and grimacing her parchment, elderly youthful complexion after canting her head to not demonstrate hints of her true insecurity in front of her friend, stilling the eerie flat line, misting the medley of expressions and her long, slim fingers danced on her chest, vehement heart pulsations throbbing clung to her fingertips.

"Cheer up, Jude! It's Halloween."

"I'm not even considering Halloween as a holiday, according to my conscious calendar."

"Whatever! I'm just quite excited for it, although ya know in what position I'm actually." After the hoarseness in the middle-aged man's snicker faded away, the homesickeness panged his facial attributes in no time at his melancholically nostalgic recollected memories from a few decades ago even years ago when his life hasn't turned downward immediately yet and Halloween was almost like an orthodox tradition to be celebrated and scarcely underestimated annually with nobody else than his fewest friends and deceased wife Claire. The naked constrast between Frank and Judy's philosophical worldviews on the western holiday controversially illustrated in what humor they're eventually.

"I know yar a widower for which I'm still sorry, but ya can always count on me if there's something bothering ya, Frank!" In the interval, the former sleazy nightclub singer managed to stroll up to the widower, tugging a sympathetically compassionate, innocent smile at the corners of her mouth, scintillatingly eyeing him with her vibrant, warm smoky quartz embers, blazing ablaze benevolence, innocence and warmness. An extraordinarily authentic sanctum of maternal, feminine consolation, warmness and goodwill, caging inside her gaze even when her low-spirits were welling in her temple of her very being. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"No! Why, tho?" Meantime, the Bostonian managed to shake her head, consequently curving her lips in a purse.

"I was thinking we can fool around on Halloween like bringing those homesickening childhood memories and," Once the former cop was maintaining an appropriately intimate proximity with the blonde, optimistically demonstrating his monstrously genius idea for tonight to refill with bonus their hectic daily schedules, thus his warm, cinnamon coffee-stained breath gently brushed with a slapping fan his friend's motionlessly headstrong gilded curls, framing her round, full profile in tandem. "And disguise ourselves as something else than just wearing these boring ass outfits, ya know!" Uneasily raspy snicker echoed in an arc, deposited in their space they provided each other. "What do ya think, bosslady?"

"I'm thinking it would be a decent idea, but aren't ya deeming it as a woeful risk for our careers?"

"Nah! Don't worry! We'll be just for awhile out of this nuthouse and just have our own lives for once in while." Suddenly the widower registered a draping muscular, masculinely strong arm to brace her middle adequately, subsequently guiding her on their way out of the sternly atmospheric office promptly and their footsteps ghosting the abysmal corridor's cemented flooring with docile motions. "Feel the real life's spirits and vibrant aura instead of keep punishing yarself with excessive work, Jude! We good?"

"Sure! W-Why not?" Her tongue elaborated the vowels and syllables which were gradually constructing the series of stammers, tugging her vocal stings lazily and what it beyond mesmerized the widower was that his boss finally agreed to participate in their brief break from their actual responsibilities in the notorious facility and dedicate themselves to the modicum of fun they're seldom graced with after a tough, long day.

"It surprises me ya agreed and I convinced ya somehow to not set yourself such high standarts." Smugly mirth grained steadily Frank's facial features, glancing at the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer's redden-flushed-clad masked complexion as a bashfully coy smile spread across her naturally mauve, plumpish lips. The heart rate perkily, energetically increased and affecting the unusual heart rhythm of the nun as the both adults paced ideally embarrassing in the hall until they retired to the security's lockroom.

"If you're still wondering what I'm going to be for Halloween, I don't have anything else than to be the old mean nun." Her lips parted in the somber scoff, dripping from her mouth as a punchline of the joke while Frank was chanting in a lull alleviating shush, muting her protests and further antagonistic sounds, pointlessly piercing the background.

"Shh, shh, shh, Judy! Yar not an old mean nun." What it arcanely flabbergasted the blonde and flinching her was when they halted in stop in the middle of the abysmal, dim light corridor and the bright yellow light bulb illuminating with artificially saturating light her magnetically beautiful face at the middle-aged gentleman's sight, clawing with his solely free colossal, veiny hand her dainty, delicate shoulder and soothingly warmness battering the rigid fabric. His lapis lazuli minerals were fixated on her smoky quartz, spearing with radiance and serenity. "I know you quite well to object those asshat inner voices, torturing ya otherwise." A deep breath jointed her brittle lungs, her fingers yet fidgeting and quivering while stilling her gaze with his. "Tonight yar going to be dressed to kill as bright as a button's Marilyn Monroe."

"W-Wh-" Even though Jude was beyond dumbfounded and nonplussed by the former policeman's kindhearted utterance and pure honesty even altruistic sacrifice to grace her Halloween with a brilliantly great experience, stutter sailed out of her tongue tip sluggishly.

"I remember so far on almost every Halloween Claire was prominently dolled up Marilyn Monroe, because of her strong admiration towards her beauty, intelligence, charisma and talent. No wonder I brought them into my backpack earlier today when I looked into the calendar and I was like," Promisingly serene smile decorated the blonde's facial features, whereas the middle-aged gentleman teasingly, gingerly kneaded her shoulder blade, admiring her femininity and one of a kind character he's always a keen fan of since the beginning, lowly humming under his breath. "Since it's Halloween and my bosslady doesn't even consider it a holiday, she might love being Marilyn Monroe or anything representing the femininity tonight." At the moment, the widower manipulated his vocal stings to gear up mimicking of his northern lilt, highlighting his utterance momentarily, thus the Bostonian bashfully bit her upper lip, wickedly clicking a chuckle and sharing it with her friend in unison.

"Aww, that's so kind of ya, Frank! But I'm not even an icon to represent such a glamorously gorgeous woman like her."

"Don't be fearful, dear! Yar unearthly pretty even without the extra make-up and glitter adorning your clothes. C'mon! Let's slay tonight!"

--- *** ---

--- A Half an Hour Later or So ---

When Frank surreptitiously unzipped his backpack to retrieve Marilyn Monroe's glamorously oyster-white sleeveless dress paired with the classily presentable oyster-white strapped stilettos and loaning them to Judy, subsequently they got back to her austere office as Frank was anticipating patiently in her office, while her presence occupied her en-suite bedroom and persistently primping herself.

As soon as her conservatively dark wool wimple was uncoiffing and securing her wild lion mane of lavish old Hollywood aureate curls and the tiresome rigidly shapeless dark habit peeled off of her skin like shed snake skin, her common work uniform was ruthlessly careless dumped on her compact bed.

In the meanwhile, the sister of the church has dolled up herself with the bewitching lily-white sleeveless dress with V neckline, partly exposing her alabasterly enticing cleavage, paired with the lily white strapped stilettos, shoing her petite feet. Shortly after her Halloween costume was tattooed on her petite-frame and brushing the tresses to refine their smartness and elegance, subsequently the middle-aged lady seated on the edge of her bed to retrieve her memorable pocket mirror and Ravish Me Red lipstick, in order to add a bonus and fashion the outfit in the exact form. When her spidery marbled fingers danced around the lipstick and revolved the make-up instrument, thereafter the bloody red miniature brush soared and glimmered with its brightest, most welcoming red shade that once painted exquisitely her lower and upper cherub lip, incarnading the naturally roseate pigment. Further, the former licentious nightclub singer didn't know what her bewitching charisma coupled with Ravish Me Red lipstick would be capable of except being every man's Achilles' Heel and eyecandy.

When her humble make-up that was consisted solely in painting her cherub lips, thereafter the sister of the church retrieved from her jet black purse her perfume to sprinkle with its alluringly breathtaking fragrance her neck, wrists and long mop of celestially golden curls. Double checking her looks in the pocket mirror self-consciously, demurely sealed her vortex of thoughts with sheer insecurity how she may look and regardless how many times her hazelish-brown round, big embers were darted to the manipulated mirrored reflection of her own, something urged the Bostonian her looks were far from creamily flawless and questioning the others' opinions by judging their facial expressions.

The humdrum click in choir of her stilettos ghostwrited the cemented floor restlessly and her petite, quivering hand due to the relentless late-October chilly climate contaminated with electrifying goosebumps to sting her overall epidermis due to the lacking warmer, thicker garments, suitable for such weather to guard every weight and tissue of her very being.

In the meanwhile, the widower's eyelids snapped opened and darted eagerly agitated to the en-suite bedroom's shut door until it swung widely opened at the vista of his boss's altered outfit which was far from the orthodox, obnuliating her delicate, pale flesh, due to the fact the devotional members of the church were forbidden even the cosmetics' usage was absolutely futile. It was Frank's very first time contemplating the illuminated side of his boss and most of all, formulating his own consperative thoughts and dwelling into his brassly reverie realm, wondering yet what Jude looked like out of her habit.

A delicately sheepish, sympathetic smile curled upon her bloody red lips and earning his lewdly astounded stare, fixed on her and admiring her ethereal grace. She looked gorgeous!

"How I look, Frank?" Her posed question begged for immediate approval while propping mildly seductive, leisurely on the door frame and her leanly alabaster arms were beautifully glinting with its sheer, silken glossiness past the security guard's pools of deep azure, imbibing her timeless beauty.

"Looking good and fine as wine, Judy!" Incredulity contoured roughly the holy woman's facial attributes in no time, whereas her employee shot a mischievously amiable wink at her, scintillatingly dazed by her beauty, regardless if she wore a natural beauty or modicum of make-up nonetheless.

"Oh really? I was pretty self-conscious what it would be looking like a Holywood star."

"Don't be! Yar an amaze!"

"Why thank you!" All of a sudden, their facial expressions broke into painfully healthy guffaws, pitching the background, muting the oblivious background noises of desperate patients' bewails permeating in the profoundly long hallway.

--- *** ---

Just shortly after the former licentious jazz nightclub singer surreptitiously ventured to flee the grandiose façade of the notorious asylum in the company of her old friend Frank, who hasn't changed his outfit yet, the both adults were embraced by the early evening's fatherly-soft, itchy autumn breeze, playfully playing and fanning their exposed creamy, palish fleshes and prickling with electrifying goosebumps their delicate epidermis.

Thick mantle of darkness was casted in inexorably irreparable layers of shadows, obscuring any light caressing gently their facial attributes, softened in nonchalance and sheer childlike ecstasy to celebrate Halloween even though it was deemed for the younger generation and its keen enthusiasts Western holiday.

Even though the dryness and the lacking moisture of rain's absence loomed in the mid-autumn days, exquisitely remarked with its outstanding hints, it was never too late for the rain to chant its own ballad and dance in tandem waltz, beading everything below. Starless early night as usually and obscuring the magnificently amorous vista of stars with the morbidly obese mantle of agelessly hoary clouds, hovering smoothly was the dream Halloween nocturnal episode for Judy and Frank.

Even though the middle-aged gentleman's small flat was a half an hour apart from the nefarious mental institution, the duo rather preferred to exercise and pressure their muscles even motioning their legs up to his home, in order to change himself from the security guard into something he covet to, although his lacking separate financial budget to be invested on abstractly fashionable Halloween costumes, thus embracing with open arms the eerily dingy spirits of the holiday. Furthermore, the security guard had separate attires, sufficiently suitable to pair and formulate an efficiently innovative Halloween costume and strongly relying on his imaginative creativity, welling up an opulent glossy fountain of ideas that were submerging his hurricane of thoughts.

The incessant humdrum choir of drums against the stone massive of Briarciff was gracefully stomped by the both adults, arriving outdoors at last.

"It's damn unbelievable ya gave me your deceased wife's Halloween costume to be Marilyn Monroe." All of a sudden the Bostonian's tongue elaborated her northern lilt, accenting her utterance while her perky silken gilded tresses bounced with each motion, retiring from the grandiose territory that was situating the old, dilapidating madhouse. Sheer incredulity coated thickly her porcelain, glossy face while folding her arms to stabilize the moderation of her body temperature, seething with chilliness and contaminated with trembling her body muscles even when her comfy pantaletot hugged her frail skeleton and the streetlamps lovely, gleamingly sheening their figures that were pacing nonchalantly in the wee hours of the evening. "It's obscene to give somebody paraphernalia that once belonged to a deceased person."

"Not at all! But do ya know what else, Judy?"

"What?"

"You can finally own this costume for the next Halloweens, ya know!"

"Ya have to be kidding me." Nonchalant, raspy giggle cracked her throat, scarcely controlling the decibels of her giggle and squinting up trustlessly, teasingly at the middle-aged man with her piercing smoky quartz jewels, blazing the warmest, the most vibrant and kindhearted hazelish-brown which Frank has ever beheld. "It's like mockery with the ghosts of the dead." Meantime, the former police officer managed to slam his front ivory, firm teeth to scrap gently, sluggishly his lower chapped lip, asphyxiating foreign grunts and gasps.

"Is that some kind of criticism, Miss Judy Monroe?" Suddenly the former licentious nightclub singer ushered her vocal stings to clear gruffily, dryly her throat with a begrudging cough, zinging her mouth, in order to bulk his attention, directly shifted to her after Frank mimicked her friendly nickname.

"It's just my word, Frank! Ya have been always kind and sweet to me that I truly appreciate it, howsoever, I just can't accept your gift at all." The embarrassing uncomfort, veiling bountifully her femininely graceful, soft facial features with blush touching her well-curved cheeks, abidingly powdering sanguinely her facial skin. Even more Frank genuinely detected the signs of the Bostonian's discomfort and reluctance to accept the kindhearted present for her, ducking faintly, shyly her head and avoiding any eye contact with him even if it's a mere glance for a split second. "It's slightly embarrassing accepting somebody's paraphernalia which once belonged to her," Stilling her ducked head, eyeing glassily her path that luxuriously adorned with an opulent carpet of multicoloured crispy leaves which were sempiternally stomped by twain of shoed footsteps, ghosting the phenomenal autumn's prospect with its exquisite medley of brushes painting in variety of nuances the nocturnal Halloween night. "But now she's gone. She is no longer there and she wouldn't approve even in her afterlife somebody like me to take something that once belonged to her."

"I'm completely sure since yar a dear friend of mine and I can really count on you, she doesn't hate you. At all!"

--- *** ---

--- Forty Five Minutes or So Later ---

When the both middle-aged adults fled the ill-famed mental institution's territory and Frank gave up to go back at his flat, in fact, he's far from motivated to disguise himself as anything else and he rather preferred to be himself, articulating himself as his own Halloween costume which saved them plenty of time and their imminent destination was one of the central cemetery of the small city of Massachusetts.

Although at first Judy wasn't quite in condition to pay a visit to the cemetery unless there's a peculiar reason such as commemorating her humongous, doubtless respect to any former mortal's grave which she knew personally sufficiently well or on the contrary has played minor role in her life, anyway the Bostonian didn't reject her friend's offer to venture in the graveyard.

Once Frank managed to reach for the tall Victorian style, superbly polished gates, thereafter he grappled one of the wing and steadily, gentlemanly holding it for the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer who was still folding her arms to stabilize her body temperature and absorb the natural, accumulated warmness battered to her fragile skeleton.

"Thanks, Frank!" When the pious sister of the church ventured in the graveyard, accompanied by the middle-aged gentleman, the gate's wing was gingerly shut without an ado.

"Always for ya, Judy!"

"Where we shall go?" At the moment, the empty prospect of no living mortal lurking in the nocturnal's daily episode in the cemetery was icily panging with sharply brass loneliness the both asylum's staff members even though the only thing they could do was keeping attached to each other and scarcely daring to separate themselves in different directions. The nocturnal illustration of sea of miniature and grandiose dully grayish gravestones even meager trees adorning the somber atmosphere with a midnight black raven perched on the partly naked tree's branch, glimpsing at the uninvited guests of the boneyard with unwelcoming grimace as if intruders just broke into his territory unblemishly blatant.

The flawlessly starless night with a full pallish, round moon hovering upward in the sky gleamed alstruistically munificently its own moonlight to caress sweetly, delightfully the nun and the security guard's parchment complexions.

"Where the wind leads!" All of a sudden, the widower registered drapping a strong, muscly arm, bracing her waist to draw her in an intimate proximity which they barely shared exactly and ambling up squarely onward until the disturbing symphony of series of raven's croaks pitched the lethally silent boneyard, coldheartedly, squarely embracing Frank and Jude. "C'mon! Let's take a look around." Meanwhile, the former cop's emphatic reprimand punctured the beginning of their real Halloween journey, overlooking crudely the series of raven's guttural, shrill croaks, permeating in the background as background sound.

"It's blasphemic paying a visit to the cemetery unless either of yar inner circle is buried there." Her Ravish Me Red fully painted lips twisted in a peculiarly perplexed frown, permeating across her delicate jaw while glancing at every corner of the empty site, stilling the acknowledge of scarce presence encompassing them.

"I know so far that there were riot teenagers that broke into the cemetery like years ago on Halloween instead of going trick or treating in the nearby neighbourhood."

"Tell me more!" The sheer haphazardity of the blonde's childlike inquisitiveness prickled her thoughts and facial attributes when her employee commenced leaking a story about the rebellious teenagers visiting the boneyard on Halloween instead of orthodoxly collecting abundance of candies like almost every child would do whether in the company of their parent or a good friend. "Where the hell did ya know about this Halloween story?"

"It's not just a Halloween story, Jude! It's a Halloween horror story." Shortly after retreating to the center of the memorial park, passing galore of tombstones of newborn up to seniors which were former mortals and contemporarily no longer inhabiting the crudely cold, enormous world, the former policeman heaved a sigh and lingering his muscly arm around the blonde's middle, hardly intetioning to disappointingly dump it. "And I remember so far that I had a friend of mine was collectioning such book with true horror stories either taking its place on Christmas, Halloween, Easter or whatever the fuck day is."

"Ya have to be kindly lucky!"

"Yeah, because the friends are for that! So let's keep going with that Halloween horror story! Prepare for chills and no nun shit, okay?" In the interval, the Bostonian manipulated her head in docile, humble nod in solemn agreement, zipping her bright red mouth in a purse and being all ears. "Good!" Managing to joint his tongue with a dry cough and clearing his throat seconds before emphatically continuing his monologue. "Those riot teenagers were nothing than trouble and they were six in their group. It's a very late Halloween night and it was presumable the majority of the kids were in their own homes whether having dinner or doing their own homework or just minding their own business. By lying to their parents they're up to trick or treating in the outskirts of the neighbourhood, their adrenaline to rush into the boneyard was a goddamn mistake. They're in huge trouble!" The same autumn featherly soft, light breeze was mischievously fanning and waltzing their attires and exposed skins, while the holy woman attempted to not quiver, in fact, even the stockings with garters were hypodermically heating her leanly long, drop dead gorgeous legs as their last hope to resist the mid-seasonal climate. "They knew it but they preferred to ignore it and just to play the daredevil game. Within their venture into the boneyard and being encompassed by hundreds of tombstones in the middle of the night, the first two kids were equipped with plain flashlights, gleaming specificially while the third kid was counting on his pal to secure her, because she potently believed the deads' hands could grip her if she stepped beside one of the tombstones and they could drag her to their buried alive bodies."

"Mhm!" An excited bob of her head in her attentively enganged in hankering the widower's horror story, conjugating the mumble in approval and strongly looking forward for the sequel, she manifested eyeing meekly his charmingly appealing with sufficiently heavy wrinkles, uncommonly indicating his charisma and beauty yet.

"While the last two fellas weren't fearfull at all and they were just keep warming their fearful pal to stop trembling as if she's seen a corpse. Once they were ambling up to one of the gravestones just of their childish curiosity to study the plaque," As soon as their maintained proximity was less than an inch, calculated in their intimate space they swapped with one another, the middle-aged man's strawberry-coloured, silkily soft lips brushed gently her earlobe. "A sound emanating from the soil caught them off guard and skeletan hands gripped the young girl's ankles, trying to drag her to the buried alive corpse even when the power of this skeleton was unnaturally strong. The only thing she could do was screaming for help and her friends' attempts to save her were almost a total failure." The velvety highlight, puncturing the middle-aged gentleman's whisper touching her petite, sensitive ear sent shivers down her spine, the monotonous drum of their footsteps stomping the lavish carpet of multicoloured leaves tingled dull tunes and the scent of soil, watered soil, faded flowers and freshly planted flowers onto the soil wafted momentarily past their noses. "When the young lady was struggling to stomp the skeletal's wrist, the grasp was far from loosen. Her knees were brushing the soil and her body fell onto the skeleton, digged in a deep fucking shitty hole which was approximately deep a couple of meters. Once her back flumped heavily backward and hit the underground hole, her body was paralyzed after breaking her back and it was terribly painful." When the monologue was ongoing unremittingly, the middle-aged lady's pools of caramel brown were darted to a shaggly-fabric-clad sack of cluster of painfully delicious candies as an abstract temptation when the security guard followed the devotional woman of the cloth's gaze on the sack of candies and sweets, moistening his pair of plump, baby pinkish lips with controlling the apex's spiral of his wet tongue, lightly salivating with its sticky drip his chin at the sinfully tempting sight of cul-de-sac's overloading sweets and candies, in fact, his childish addiction to such temptations, which were deemed as sin according to the halloweed's codex were inevitably undeniable in Frank's case.

The suddenness of the lethal hush which muted even the former cop's vowels and syllables, gradually dying on his tongue after constructing the impending utterance, the distraction of the sweets and candies attracted the member of the church's attention in no time, shooting him a skeptical piercing gawk, honing with each advancing second of their journey and noting the scintillating glitter of sheer merriness into his azure blue jewels which slightly bewilderingly vexed her for dodging to maintain an appropriate eye contact even when they were swapping utterances per a couple of seconds.

"Why on earth ya suddenly shutted up?" In the interim, the Bostonian maneuvered her pools of caramel brown to roll dramatically coldblooded, huffing frustratedly due to her employee's unpredictable doldrum, zipping his mouth abruptly when he glanced perkily at her, earning her sternity honing gawk as if it gouged off his eyes with a masterful ease.

"The candies and sweets!" Then with her solely free petite, creamily pearly-white hand managed to smack a slap across her temple in disbelief how one of the most loyal, trustworthy friends of hers was conveying himself to one of the sinfullest temptations. Briefly savoring or at least ogling enamored at the sweets and candies which Jude deemed them as sin and most of all, warily warned her protégé about them.

"For goddamn sake, Frank," An abrupt mellow gasp trundled her throat when her friend guided her to the sack of rich diversity of Halloween miniature desserts as soon as the duo weren't even distancing themselves from the security guard's Achilles' Heel. Furthermore, what it mildly vexed the sister of the church was that her employee was beyond distracted and succumbed by the desserts and hunkering up past the satchel, his knees brushing lazily the meager crispy leaves' rug that formed a circle and one of his hands stilling protectively his boss's waist curled, whereas his other hand was shoved into the expanse and vehemently trying to retrieve a couple of candies with different flavours to savour their molting scrumptiousness. "The sweets are leading to sin."

"Didn't I tell ya no nun and the security guard shit when we're just celebrating Halloween?" Seconds before unpacking clumsily with his nimble, meaty fingers one of the exquisitely enveloped candies, whereas horde of packed sweets and candies were perched motionlessly on his lap, scarcely daring to glimpse at his boss and his utter attention was shifted to his eye candy, Judy's lungs unfettered fresh, burdening oxygen. "Jusy for awhile, if ya excuse me?"

"I know, but yar such a turdsandwich!" When the middle-aged woman verged to stumble and flump onto the sack of free desserts for every cemetery visitor and futile grunts vibrated her throat, fortunately, the widower poised her, bracing her back yet.

"Then go attack along with me the candies and sweets."

"Okay, okay, okay!" Ministrations of approval warmed Frank's pit and tossing carelessly the envelope of the white chocolate candy which was inserted in the corners of his mouth and his ivory, firm teeth megawattly grinding blatantly the white chocolate until it laced its melted flavor on his tongue and enamel. "I'll just take one and I'm pretty surprised on Halloween the cemetery visitors can have a free candy."

"Don't be surprised!" The blatantly smug slurp pitched the former sleazy nightclub singer's ears and fidgeting her maneuvred hand lingered on fistful of enveloped candies with rum and dark chocolate savor, consequently snatching them uncurled from their own envelopes and barely keeping her vow just to savor only one for tonight, munching them in unison until mild intoxication misted her vision and muscles, tensing them with sedation. "I didn't know yar lying to yourself, Judy! You took more than just one candy." Sharp emphasis punctured the widower's stark irony, curving his chapped lips while moving on the other desserts which he's retrieved, muffling a yawn due to the relentlessly cool late-October weather with contagious changes in their humors and freshness. "How do they taste? Huh?"

"Damn good!" All of a sudden, she shifted her attention to him, exchanging a glowing, resurrected stare while the tipsiness was glimmering into her hazelish-brown minerals, yet suckling her lower lip cautiously, in order to not smear the Ravish Me Red lipstick.

"Are ya some kind of tipsy?"

"Some candies have specific taste."

"Better not let Tim see!" Meantime, the middle-aged gentleman registered leaning and mumbling a honeyed whisper into Judy's ear, consequently a half-hearted, blissful snicker grinded his mouth.

--- *** ---

--- Two Hours Later or So ---

After almost emptying the luxurious sack of sweets and candies which certain deposited either vague or strong liquor into them as savor, subsequently the duo retreated back to the mental hospital in embarrassing lurch, earning series of arcanely bewildered eyes, transfixed on them. The majority of the strangers could peculiarly estimate the sight of Frank guiding his boss back to their workplace sluggishly, awkwardly as if one-night stand lover was accompanying his hired prostitute either to her home or rather his.

Even if they didn't have any idea what time it was, throughout the presumable current time was calculated approximately almost nine o'clock, gauged by the pitch-black starless sky.

"C'mon, Judy!" Masculinely husky grunt rolled out of Frank's tongue tip after persistently dragging the blonde upstairs to tower the stone massive of the ill-famed facility, aiding her to step even timidly begrudging on one of the stairs, each footstep whispering against the massive and pitching a background noise. "You can do it." Lingering his secure, muscular arm snaked around her middle encouragingly, they towered together the stairs even when his northern lilt honed up his emboldening caution.

Within a couple of minutes of sluggishly escalating the massive and the double front door security guards opening presentably the door for the both staff members and venturing their way inside the madhouse's lobby and a couple of orderlies were struggling to drag rebellious patients back to their wing's wards which were reckoned as their small, poorly furnished bedrooms. The inexorable reek of urine, poor hygiene, heavy medicaments, vomit and freshly baked breads emanating from the bakery quickly wafted upon their flexible noses under their intoxicated gazes, mildly wobbly with mist thickly coating them.

Presumably either the orderlies were recalctritantly dragging the inmates to their wards for extra good night sleep after shutting down the common room until the next morning or on the contrary, they had escaped their own cells and getting themselves into trouble.

In the progressing hours of the night episode, there were almost no staff members that were freely roaming like disoriented spectrals in the lobby or anywhere else behind the dull, lifeless walls of the infamous mental hospital. Moreover, the security guards which were in charge of night shift and occupying with their own presences each outskirt of the wings' abysmal hallways. It was indeed inescapable circumstance.

Series of breathy, despondent wails slipped from the writhing patients and meanwhile, composing an elegiac soundtrack, feating the sanitarians' swears, grunts and stern cautions.

"My goodness! What the fresh hell is-" When it was high time the Bostonian's turn to elaborate anything even when her inner voices of tipsiness were incessantly challenging her and brassly tormenting her with irrational decisions, suddenly Frank momentarily guided her without hesitancy up to her office.

"I can't leave ya drunk as a skunk all alone at all. I'll make sure to take care of ya." Their notoriously docilely footsteps ghosted the cemented flooring and pacing at awkward pace through the abysmal brightly lit corridor, illuminating partly their figures. As soon as they reached the austere, unwelcoming office, the pious woman of the cloth fumbled clumsily, quiveringly her purse's zip to rummage it for the rusty, old key for her office until something rustier, solider grazed her digits and subsequently yanking them in a swift motion promptly and dumping her midnight black purse unzipped, due to the searing adrenaline, pulsating into their bodies and the liquor in the blood, emanating from the free Halloween sweets and candies. "Do you want me to help you with the key?"

"Nah, I'll be fine!" The soundtrack of slurs jingled alarming tones of Frank and Jude when he attempted to snatch the key headstrongly from her grasp, in order to help her to unlock efficiently the locked oakwood office door immediately. In the meanwhile, the former licentious nightclub singer mistily glanced at the both directions of the eerily empty, long hall, acknowledging the vacancy which wasn't even occupied by a single presence, hideously disturbing and embarrassing them.

"I don't believe you! Let me unlock the office for ya." As soon as in a single click the oakwood office door was unlocked and swung freely opened at the pitch-black mantle, timelessly shrouding the sufficiently expansive workplace of the head nun of Briarcliff, a smugly mischievous smirk planted upon the security guard's baby-pinkish, plump lips and dumping askew opened the door, whereas he dashed, stilling his snaked arm around her middle as he guided her to her en-suite bedroom and moping with his only free hand her wimple and habit, throughout dropping her on her compact bed to rest and shutting behind him the en-suite bedroom door.

"Frank, it's unnecessary! Yar tipsy too." In the interim, the blonde fashioned her frail hands into balled fists and maneuvering to rub her groggy orbs pensively, slurring him a reprimand in low voice and thereafter flipping on one side to prop her weight, squinting up at the widower's figure in the corner of her eye, far from motivated to study in a scrutiny his manners and forthcoming intentions.

"Shu, shu, shu, Jude! You deserve to rest even if I'm also slightly tipsy and those candies and sweets took a toll on me." All of a sudden, the former policeman manifested to maintain a platonically intimate distance with his boss, hunkering up past the bed and locking up her stare with his, softing his smirk into a benevolently serene smile, suffusing across his mouth gently, elegantly. "I'm with ya, you know!"

"I'm sure God overlooks me as his own serving angel." Even when Jude was somewhat content with having an outstandingly great time on Halloween with nobody else than the former policeman, somehow an unholy somber halo invisibly circled her inner voices to spellbind God's harsh words slitting her conscience and the vows, in fact, she's always vowed the sweets were leading to sin and God wouldn't be astoundingly pleased with the religious woman of the cloth's broken vow.

"No, that's not true, Jude! I'm sure that stays between us and God with our overeating of sweets and candies on Halloween," Pause wrenched Frank's utterance, managing to lift up his colossal, amusingly warm hand to her cheek, cupping it affectionately as her cherub, bloody red lips undulated in a seductively soft O, shifting her attention to him instantly and sheer tenderness and warmness glimmered in her sanctums of caramel brown. What the Bostonian could do was tenderly molting into Frank's gentleman altruism and affection, welling into his gestures and velvety words like sweet nothings, chanted deeply. "Okay?" Judy managed a bob in solemn agreement, weakly beaming at him. "You shouldn't regret what we're being through today and what we actually celebrated, Miss Judy Monroe!"

"I know, Frank! I genuinely appreciate yar kindness. Always!" What it was oblivious for the duo was the masculinely familiar dull footsteps of the priest, muttering in the austere office of the head nun of the mental institution.

"I'm honore-" When the middle-aged gentleman ushered his chapped, berry-coloured lips to press a peck on her cheek, suddenly the infamous creak of the linked bedroom's door subtly whispered, startling the both staff members as the Bostonian stung widened her hazelish-brown gemstones at the tall figure of the ambitious Monsignor, balmy blush tickling her cheeks in naive embarrassment. Perky pinkness tinging her delicate, palish well-sculptured cheeks, murmurs almost dying on her tongue. "Anything wro-"

"The Monsignor!"

"Oh wow!" A heavy sigh flushed Timothy's nose, rolling his eyes, attempting to dedicate his sin to the platonically guiltless vista of the duo, sharing a platonic cheek kiss which was far from heinous even sorting his mind, whereas Frank broke off the cheek kiss and shot a doubtful, indifferent gawk at the younger man, trying his best to be as cool as cucumber. "Where you both have been? Care to explain?" Under the nonchalantly strict stare of Timothy, the nun and the security guard sensed how small, vulnerable and weak they're compared to the aspiring Monsignor, estimating their tiers in the society and their positions which they were professionally serious taking in the facility. Their hearts skipped a beat.

"Urm, Father," Although the both gentlemen shared an antagonistic relationship with each other, the older man struggled with the explaination in stutter, vowels and syllables clashing to be formulated in a rational response, begged from the British aristocrat's enquiry, barely moving a single muscle. "I didn't know yar going to be earlier back in Briarcliff while I and Jude decided to take a short break from our duties."

"Taking a short break in going on that unholy holiday to get drunk, right?"

"Not exactly!" The heavy-laden exhale's sharpness fastened the older lady's lungs, noticing the naked distraction in the corner of her eye as the British aristocrat's Achilles Heel for almost every man. Her wildly unruly long mop of golden hair ruffled on the pillow, thus fashioning a sacred angelically divine halo, framing her round, full profile. His smoky quartz jewels flamed invicinble lust, desire, love and warmness, succumbed by the prospect of his rare bird's ethereal beauty and the little green-eyed monster ungratefully texturing his parchment face, due to the fact, Jude wasn't all alone at all and Frank had apparent romantic intentions of her. "I didn't want to leave Frank all alone and he is a dear friend of mine."

"Did you give both of yourselves to the temptations?"

"Just sweets and candies!" The middle-aged gentleman straightened his posture, cracking series of irrationally blatant sniggers, chanting alarming tones into the both members of the church's ears.

"That means I smell the punishment and who's repenting for it." In the meanwhile, the British compatriot tugged a small, complacent grin at the corners of his mouth, folding his strong, masculinely muscly arms, dithering his gaze between Jude and Frank, whilst the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer ushered her strawberry-coloured, wet tongue to gingerly moisten her upper and lower lip without obnoxiously, uglily smearing off her lipstick and tinting with its sanguine pigment her chin. "Who wants to take the punishment between both of you?" Suddenly the widower manifested raising his hand into the thin air, indicating his vote to save Jude's skin from the crude punishment which was promisingly comprising a handful of lashes at least. "Seriously?"

"I'm taking a bullet for the bosslady."

"Think twice! Choose wisely!" Meanwhile, the British compatriot couldn't refrain a healthily half-hearted, boyish chuckle during the pause, subsequently ushering his foe to join him as his own assistant without asking him even once for his approval. "Come on, Frank! You're going to be my assistant." A goofily smug grin cradled the security guard's corners of his mouth, surprisingly quirking a perky thick eyebrow when Timothy offered him to be his assistant during granting the kinky punishment for their favorite sister of the church. At the moment, the blonde flexed her throat muscles to swig the salty lump, bubbling up in her feminine Adam's apple and her heart leaping in pure euphoria, still questioning how Timothy's kinky side has been enigmatically unlocked, due to the fact, he's far from fond of her methods of inhumanely bestowing the punishments for the inmates.

"I'm beyond amused, Father!"

"Just come in! We've an important task." The middle-aged lady lingered her jimmied widened orbs on the both men, plotting their repenting retribution for the devotional holy woman, while absent-mindedly registering to spread her legs leisurely. "Good boy, Frank! We're having an only one who truly deserves the punishment." What it bewilderingly amused Jude and Frank was Timothy has hardly elaborated such almost informal language in front of the older gentleman with exception his rara avis especially when they're dwelling out of the professional realm and tumbling in the depths of their platonic friendship's realm.

"Oh my God! That's a blasphemically kinky, Father!" The Bostonian's recites in murmur the blasphemy ministrated her solely distinctive Boston lilt, spotlighting her stealthness.

"But I promised to take the bullet for her, not assisting ya to punish her just because she tasted sweets."

"Well, that's it, Frank! Bring her to bend on the desk!" At the moment, the older man meekly, modestly gulped a bitter lump, whereas reapproaching his boss to help her to hop up from the bed in the least uncomfortable way and ushering her to flee the en-suite bedroom's site, while the aspiring Monsignor retired to the office and shutting the oakwood office door in no time, obscuring farther uninvited visitors to set a foot in their territory that was their recent occupation.

When the security guard meekly obeyed the ambitious Monsignor as the trio were no longer in the linked bedroom, the lethal silence interrupted by the velvety whispers of Timothy's oxford drums against the concetre floor were monotonous soundtrack, whereas the older gentleman aided Judy to readjust her bending posture.

The hesitance painting superbly the younger man's handsome facial attributes shortly after registering widely opened the double door of the grand armoire with the luxurious collection of canes from the thinnest to the thickest in sizes. His breath hitched when his impure thoughts submerged his rich fantasy and imagination which was encountering the absolute reality. Granting the retribution to his right hand with one of her canes and contemplating her frequence in flinches choiring under his domineering cocoa brown jewels, blazing aflare lust, desire, love and warmness. An obscene medley that was the sins or rather the devil's mastery. Despite his potent dedication to the church and its ecclesiastical duties, he's always covet to grace pleasurably Judy, no matter how inexperienced he appeared to be with the representatives of the opposite sex after joining the church a decade ago but before that only once dating a female.

"Chin up, Judy! He won't hurt ya, I promise!" Then the former police officer circled the hard wood bureau and maintaining proximity with the pious nun, computed in a handful of guiltless inches solely. Peering over her bended head to make sure the man of the cloth was yet choosing wisely which cane would be the ideal for his favorite nun's punishment, he averted his peer from the younger man and subsequently shifted his attention to the Bostonian, offering her a sympathetic smile, tattooed on his marbled face, whilst manipulating his mammoth, veiny hand to stroke her long mop of crispily soft aureate hair, softly raking his fingers' anatomy.

As soon as the man of the cloth has chosen averagely thick cane, in order to not pang his conscience with bestowing his right hand ocean of difficultly recovering plum bruises and wounds mapping her buttocks, meantime, the former cop was stabilizing his grasp on her wrists, bobbing humbly his head.

Once Timothy participated the pairing's company and his colossal, amusingly warm hand lifted up his rare bird's sheer dress hem to expose her buttocks, secured in lace bloody red panties comfortably which was embraced by his smoky quartz gems, consequently a sheepishly coy smirk embroidered his mouth, wearing thousand patterns of desire and lust. Thick veil of blush shamefacedly tinged his well-carved, chubby cheeks and swallowing hard at the sight of his favorite woman of the cloth's sinful prosect, diabolically alluring him.

What it break the blonde's facial expression and catching her off guard was when she sensed the pristinely delicate touch, ghosting her partly naked peachy buttocks', hesitantly to peer over her shoulder though her pure oblivion of Frank, fastening her wrists with his grip.

"Pretty naughty of you, Sister!" In the interval, Frank maneuvered the thumbs of his hands to knead Jude's dainty, brittle knuckles, emboldening her physically and mentally even though it was too real for her. After smacking a featherly soft, weak slap across her rear, whilst his hand stilled the hem without dropping it, afterwards he charged his cane to give a couple of lashes, contacting the bare skin of her rear and the Bostonian flinched and captured her friend's baby-pinkish, lusciously plumpish lips into hers into a hardening, breathy kiss. Series of lashes were subsequently casted on her ass cheeks until Timothy eventually tossed the cane carelessly and leant to inspect the ferocious tracks of the punishment he granted to the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer.

The featherly soft pads of his fingers gingerly, gentlemanly traced the small curves of sanguine welts, mapping her ass cheeks and admiring their peachy shape, throughout surreptitiously, childishly snatching slowly but surely her lace panties and within a couple of seconds of admiring the sliding underwear from her exquisitely curved, leanly long legs, his lewd gaze imbibed like sinful liquor her butt-naked rear with her exposed brassly drenched folds. As soon as the kisses escalated to ferociously aggressive, consequently Judy and Frank's tongues commenced waltzing in breathless tandem until Judy's tongue won domination and emphatically plugged in the widower's mouth, deepening into a French kiss. In the meantime, releasing the grasp and warily peeling off her sleeveless dress's straps slowly and steadily until he was embraced by her firmly round shaped breasts with her peebled due to her horniness tiny naturally mauve nipples after breaking off the kiss for a split second and admiring one another's facial attributes.

"Are ya completely sure ya want all this, Timothy?'

"Yes, I'm sure." There was no ounce of regret even hesitancy in his utterance.

"Yar undeniably gorgeous, bosslady!" A demurely girlish grin parted her lightly smeared bright red lips when the Bostonian sensed her boss was fingering and kneading her swollen bundle of nerves, whereas his pristinely wet tongue was inserted at her entrance and suckling on her sheerly luscious juices, baptizing his tongue tip. She couldn't even stifle the breathless moans and groans with their rapidly increased decibels per a couple of seconds, gripping harshly the edge of the hardwood bureau and the former cop begun his course of peppering with tenderly feather, dainty kisses her pale expanse at first until they escalated to mechanically nipping the sensitive skin of her neck and his salivatingly savage kisses, overally cloaking it.

"Holy fuck! Oh!" The angelic hymns, frequently chanted in effortlessly breathless moans and groans sailed out of her mouth, snapping shut her eyelids and relishing the moment where her favorite boys were pleasuring her and lazily protracting her leanly alabaster arm to contact the former policeman's shirt, consequently unbuttoning clumsily, unsteadily the stubborn buttons. The gearing fingers inserted in and out of the priest were blowmindingly kneading the swollen bundle of nerves, altering in its paces and admiring the juiceness of her juices. "Holy shit! Don't stop!"

And yet the austerely unwelcoming office of the former promiscuous nightclub singer became an insatiable battlefield on Halloween not only for lewd punishments, but also an eloquent ballad of breathy moans, groans and cussings, resonantly chanted.

Author's Final Note: I'd like to apologize for cutting the smutty scene, however, I wanted to leave up to the readers' imagination, depicting with mental images how they imagine the threesome, besides I've already written over 11,500 words! And Happy Late Halloween everybody! I hope you genuinely enjoyed and liked this one-shot! Don't forget to leave your feedbacks if you truly enjoyed it! :))