Leaning against the glasses was an envelope. I had paid the server to leave it the way it is. “…. what the fuck…. “ he muttered under his brea...h. My pink lipstick marks the empty glass and my perfume lingered. He picked up the other glass and drank- Jameson. She remembered, he thought with amusement. Ripping open the envelope, a card key. Hotel Le Marais, six blocks away by his calculations. Inside, a note in my handwriting - room 347. **** I walked into the night New Orleans night with that. “Legs open!” She snapped, and Father Mortimer adjusted his position, opening his legs so that the Mother Superior could see his testicles hanging down. His legs were hairy but his bottom was not. It was quite white, for the moment anyway.“How many of each implement?” She said, “Careful now. If you say too few I will treble it.”“I think six, Mother Superior.”“And I think you don’t want to atone! We will make it eighteen. And you will count. Is that clear?”“Yes, Mother Superior.”The Mother. More

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