Lucifer's Lottery - Edward Lee [19]
Watched her completely unbutton the surplice, skim it off along with the Roman collar and cross. She jittered a bit when she faced Hudson more resolutely, as if to display her total nakedness to him.
I don’t BELIEVE this . . .
“Listen,” he finally forced himself to say. “You’re going to have to—”
The image of her body stunned him. Her torso was a perfect hourglass of flesh; high, full breasts; flat stomach and wide hips. Her skin shone in perfect, proverbial alabaster white.
Hudson’s eyes inched lower, to her pubis, where his speechless gaze was hijacked by a plenteous triangle of bronze fur.
This deaconess had one full-tilt body . . .
“I-I-I,” she faltered. The dull blue of her eyes seemed to implore him. “I’ve been instructed . . . to tell you that you kuh-kuh-can sodomize me if you ssssssso . . . desire, or-or-or I will give you . . . oral . . . ssssssex. It’sssss part of winning the Senary.” She seemed to gag. “It’ssss what they said to say.” Then she turned, quite robotically—showing an awesome rump—and foraged through some old cupboards.
“They said?” Hudson questioned. “Who’s they?”
“A Class III Machinator and his Spotter,” she told him, still rummaging. “They’re Bio-Wizards. They work in a Channeling Fortress in the Emetic District. They’re mmmmmm-achinating me. That’s why . . . I’m acting errrrrrr-atically. They’re manipulating my . . . will.” Then she bent over, to search a lower cabinet.
Holy moly! As wrong as all this was—especially for a future seminarist—Hudson couldn’t take his eyes off her physique. When she’d bent, the action only amplified the magnificence of her rump. “What are you looking for?” he finally asked.
“Ah. Here.” She straightened, holding a bottle of Vigo olive oil. She stood awkwardly then, and began smoothing palmfuls of the oil over her body. Hudson stared, stupefied.
What am I going to do? he thought. I’ve got a buck-naked deaconess with a body like Raquel Welch in Fantastic Voyage lubing herself up with my Vigo. This is insane. SHE’S insane.
She sat up on the dowdy kitchen table and lay back, continuing to spread the oil. Her skin glimmered almost too intensely to focus on for long. “They t-t-told me you’d like thissssss.”
“Uh, well . . .”
“I-I-I’m chaste, by the way—I have . . . to tell you that, too.” Now her hands were reoiling her breasts and belly. “It’s a prerequisite. Any Senarial Messenger mmmmm-ust be virginal, as well as a guh-guh-guh-godly person.” She pulled her knees back, then splashed some oil between her spread legs. “You kuh-kuh-can put it right . . . here,” she said, and touched her anus. “Would you like to?”
Hudson stared at the question as much as the gleaming spectacle. Simply thinking about doing it seemed more luxurious than anything he’d ever fathomed. But—
I am NOT going to have anal sex with a crazy deaconess!
“Or-or-or . . . here,” she said, now pressing the perfect breasts together, to highlight the slippery valley. “Just nuh-nuh-not my vuh-vuh-vuh-vagina . . . I mmmmmust remain chaste.”
The action of her hands, in tandem with the shining, perfect skin, nearly hypnotized Hudson. It seemed as though she were wearing a magnifying glass out in the sun; that’s how brightly she gleamed. His arousal became uncomfortable in his pants. This woman’s off the deep end. I need to get her out of here. Yet every time he resolved to tell her to leave, the image of her body grew more intense, silencing him, commanding him to watch.
Now her hands massaged the oil into the abundant triangle, which began to shine like spun gold.
This is too much . . . Hudson thought.
The woman simply lay still, waiting.
“You-you-you-you’re allowed to,” she droned.
Hudson reeled, staring.
“No,” he blurted, cursing himself. I want to, damn it, but . . . “You’re going to have to leave, miss. Are you on medication or something? Drugs? I could call a hotline through my church—”
“You’re-you’re-you’re . . . not interested?”
“No.”
“Oh,” she responded. “Okay.” Then she dully put her raiments back on, adjusting the white collar. She shambled