Chapter seventeen

After I escaped from the convent with the communion wine and all the gold I could bundle under my wimple I knew it would be wise to lay low for a while. And so it was several weeks before I found myself at the Convulsing Pig again.

I kept a low profile; just ordered a whisky at the bar, tried to relax and took in the show. There was a new girl dancing tonight and she was good. Not as good as Juliette, whose backside was like two halves of a round, ripe ripe peach just begging to be prised apart, but graceful nonetheless, in that willowy way of tall, slender girls.

Tonight’s routine seemed to involve some girls dancing dressed as fancy desserts as others ‘ate’ layers of cream lace and raspberry ruffles from their bodies until nothing was left but some carefully placed cherry garnishes. Delicious! The Convulsing Pig always delivered the goods.

The new girl moved with a sort of equine delicacy, a suggestion of fragility that was irresistible.

But don’t be fooled. These girls might seem like delicate, innocent flowers, but they have mouths on them like sailors and knickers like a fisherman’s hanky. They know what they’re about. And so do I.

I waded through the crowds of cocaine snorting yuppies, talking loudly on their phones, flashing their cash like they meant something here. I made a beeline for the new girl.

I saw she was still wearing her headdress from the show - some kind of Bakewell monstrosity that covered her face. She was standing with her back to me, her spine curving invitingly towards me, presenting a small pert backside in an insubstantial cherry thong.

I couldn’t resist. I reached out my hand and lightly cupped one petite buttock and casually took a sip of my whisky. I felt her clench in surprise, but she turned slowly, coolly to face me. I smiled.

But I was not prepared for what I saw. There, beneath the fronds of white taffeta icing was a face I knew very well indeed.

“Sister Mary Beth!” I stuttered “what are you doing here?”

“Hello “-Sister Hildegaard-”. Surprised to see me?”

I didn’t know what to say. How had she found me? How had she escaped from the locked broom cupboard? How had she explained her missing robes and wimple to the other sisters?

My mind whirled and before I could speak she had whipped out a pair of handcuffs and chained my wrist to her slender ankle.

She strode calmly through the bar, forcing me to follow in a hunched, limping stagger as I desperately tried to keep my balance. Not one person stopped her..

When we reached the door I felt the blast of icy December air breathing through the door. Slowly, never breaking eye contact, she pulled out a switchblade hidden in her thong and cut every item of clothing from my body, before dragging me outside and fastening me, naked, shivering and exposed to the canal railing.

“Now” she said, smiling triumphantly “let’s see how you get yourself out of this one, Sister…”