Jude bathed. Dinner with Timothy had been a rousing success, if a sweaty one. She was tired. Tired from cooking. Tired from the talk of business. Tired from the unrelenting guilt of her sacreligious passions. She pressed her washcloth to her eyes hard. Saw swirling light and color. Tried to cover the unbidden images of her fingers slipping free his starched collar, his hands slipping up her thighs, masculine arms braced by her head and the cool expanse of his back heating beneath her caress.

It wasn't working. She'd be praying double tonight, with an early morning ahead of her. And yet more business.

She dried and dressed briskly, her long gown warm and comfy, bed calling to her. But first. She knelt. Drew her chaplet and began the count. But her prayers were interrupted by voices in the corridor.

"Missy, you calm ya tits down right now or I'll lock ya in solitary without a backward glance." Frank's voice.

"You calm your tits, old man! I have rights!" Jude groaned. Shelley. "Locked up all day in that holy hell hole. No water! No food! A fucking string of anal beads with a Jesus dildo and told to pray?!"

"And that was Sister Mary Eunice's call." Frank hissed. Jude went to her door, throwing a black shawl over her shoulders, preparing for a confrontation.

"Yeah, well, Sister Mary Eunice is Sister Jude's little pet psycho! So guess who's gonna hear about it?"

"Lower your voice!" Frank snapped. They were right outside her door. "I'm gonna let ya talk to her, because I'm legally bound to do so, but I swear ta God if you take a tone with Sister Jude -"

"Oh, fuck me!" Shelly hissed. "You too!? Does everyone hear lick her prayerful pussy? Maybe I'm missing out!"

"Missy -"

But Frank's comeuppance faltered. Jude opened the door, an expression of what she hoped was quiet fury on her features. Frank looked sheepish as hell. Shelley stood just behind him, chin held high, blonde hair a matted mess. Furious. "Frank. Shelley. To what do I owe the dubious pleasure of hosting this late evening?"

"I'm sorry, Sistah -" Frank started.

"He's not sorry." Shelley pushed past the security, fists clenched at her sides, spitting fire. "Nobody in this godforsaken shithole is sorry!"

Frank pushed the patient back behind him, raising his baton in threat (although he'd be hard-pressed to hit a woman). "Sistah Jude, I found Shelley locked up in the Chapel. She claims that -"

"Yes, I know," Jude interrupted calmly.

"Oh."

"You knew?!" Shelley jolted forward, Frank catching her round the waist. Jude was completely unfazed. "You fucking frozen cunt! Bride of christ, my ass! The devil himself wouldn't have you! That's cruel! "

"Let her go, Frank."

"Jude, are you sure about that?"

Even Shelley seemed surprised. "I'm quite sure." He released her. Shelley didn't bolt. She didn't attack. She took a step toward Jude, an almost calm one. "Mary Eunice told me that she locked you in the Chapel, Shelley. This afternoon."

"When you got back from feathering your lust nest with the Monsignor?" Shelley challenged.

"She also told me why she sent you there."

Frank looked between the two women uncomfortably, scratching his head. "Because Sister Goody Two Shoes can't take a fucking joke!" Shelley spat.

Jude raised a hand. "Mary Eunice is a wealth of goodness, Shelley. You should learn from her."

"She left me -"

"An oversight." Jude stated simply. "This evening she came to me wracked with guilt, determined ta feed ya. Food and apologies, no doubt. She was overworked in my absence, doubtless. She didn't mean ta leave ya there." She took pleasure in a slow grin. "I'm the one who told her ta leave ya tonight. Felt like it would be good for ya." She nodded toward Frank. "But I was remiss in informing my trusted security. Sorry, Frank."

He shrugged. "No problem, Sistah."

Shelley fumed between the two of them. "You're apologizing to him?! When I'm the one who was treated inhumanely! Like a dog somebody forgot to feed?!"

Jude leaned forward. "Like a bitch in heat," she specified quietly.

Shelley did bolt this time. Frank was quick to grab her. "What'd I say?" He asked, struggling with the nympho. "What did I tell ya', Shelley?"

"You're one ta talk!" Shelley spat back at Jude over Frank's reminders. "I see the way he looks at you. The way you look at him. Your pious priest! Hypocrites. Hypocrites!" Her anger had brought her near tears. "Married to God but fucking each other? That's a laugh."

"You're digging a hole for yarself, Shelley," Jude pointed in her face. "You'll be wishing I'd left you locked in the chapel when I'm done with ya tomorrow morning."

"Why wait til tomorrow what you can do today, Sister Jude? Huh?" Shelley still struggled against Frank. "Or are you just too tuckered out from your passion of the christ to hold a cane tonight?"

Jude's nostrils flared. She clenched her jaw painfully. Shelley laughed maniacal, seeing she was starting to get to the nun. "Christ, that's so rich. Honestly. Does he call you sister while he fucks you? D'you call him Father?"

"Frank. Take Shelley to my office. I'll be there in just a moment." She turned, but Shelley kept going.

"Got something to prove, huh, Sister? Still got some fight left in ya? Sweet dreams tonight after you stripe my ass?"

"I'm looking forward to it, yes," Jude replied, nearing the end of her tolerance. Frank was pulling Shelley back into the corridor.

"Tiny bed ya got in there, Sister! But I guess you two are only missionary anyway, right? Any hole to minister the soul!"

Jude slammed her door. Ripped a habit from its hanger and wrapped her wimple over still-wet hair. Her hands shook with anger. Justifiable anger. But tears stung the back of her throat. She really needed to gain control. Had nearly slipped already. She stepped into slippers and hung her chaplet around her neck. "Too late for this shit," she muttered, then crossed herself.

Frank stood outside her office door. He had a key, and had obviously already sent Shelley inside. "I'm sorry, Jude," he whispered softly.

"Hardly your fault, Frank," she whispered back.

"I'll wait here till you're done and take her down to solitary?"

"Lovely," Jude replied.

In her office, Shelley stood before her desk, tapping a foot impatiently. "Pick a big one tonight, Sister. Because I don't need to be able to sit down ta kick your ass."

"Lay a finger on me," Jude hissed. "Try it."

"It's not my fingers ya want on ya, Sister Jude."

"Stop it!" Jude whirled on her. "Yar filthy. A filthy girl with a filthy mouth and I don't think a caning can cure ya. In fact, I think you'd enjoy it."

"What can I say? I guess I want some hot nun action, too, Sister. Everybody else in this place is obsessed with you. I wanna see what I'm missing."

"Sit down, Shelley." This threw her. "Sit down!" Jude shouted, twisting the chair violently. Shelley sat. Jude opened a drawer at her desk. Extracted a rosary. "Here." She thrust it at Shelley.

Shelley stared, refusing to take the strand. "Your pet sister gave me a set earlier. I ate 'em."

"Take them."

"I said no!"

Jude calmly stood before Shelley. "Take them, or I'll stripe yar ass so bad even Dr. Arden will wince."

Slowly, hesitantly, mistrustingly, Shelley reached for the beads. As soon as they were in her hand, Jude knelt before her. Shelley scrambled a bit in her chair, nearly tipping it, completely bowled over by the imposing nun's actions. "What the fuck?"

"Not tonight, Shelley. I'm afraid yar not my type." Jude put her hands on Shelley's knees. "Are ya familiar with St. Augustine?"

"Is he the patron saint of nuns scaring the shit of you? Cuz that's about where I am right now, Sister Jude."

"St. Augustine struggled to overcome his lust, Shelley. His sins of the flesh. I think you can draw on his lessons and strength now. We're gonna pray his prayer together. I'm gonna teach it to ya."

Shelley looked on the verge of panic. "Can't - can't you just cane me, Sister?"

"No." Jude grabbed Shelley's head, forced it down. "Bow yar head. Ready?"

"No!" Shelley freed her head, bobbed up like a weeble.

Undeterred, Jude pulled it back down more forcefully. Clutched the dirty blonde locks. "I said bow yar disgusting head!" Shelley whimpered. "Now. Here we go. Breathe in me, O Holy Spirit - repeat after me, Shelley. You'll never learn just listenin'."

"B-b-breathe in me, O Holy Night -"

"Spirit!" Jude slapped her head briskly.

"Ow! Damn! Spirit!" Shelley corrected.

"That my thoughts may all be holy…" Jude commenced slowly.

"That my thoughts may all be holy…" Shelley's voice trembled.

But Jude's remained firm. "Act in me, O Holy Spirit, that my work too may be holy…"

"Act in me, O Holy Spirit, that my work too may be holy…"

"Draw my heart, O Holy Spirit, that I love but what is holy…" Jude watched Shelley, seeking any semblance of piety in her praying. Her head was still bowed, at least, eyes closed…

"Draw my heart, O Holy Spirit, that I love butts." Jude slapped her head again. "Ow! Shit!" Another slap. "Fuck!" Slap. "Jesus Chr-" This time, Jude's hand clamped over the woman's mouth.

Shelly shuggled but Jude perfected a sleeper hold and continued loudly over the grunts and goans. "Strengthen me, O Holy Spirit, to defend all that is Holy. Guard me then, O Holy Spirit, that I always may be Holy. Amen." Shelley stilled, seeming to surrender. But Jude was no fool. "Yar a smart girl, Shelley. Ya may be a slut, but I've nevah said yar an idiot. D'you think you can pray to St. Augustine now, or shall I give you one more round like this to get it settled in?"

Shelley shook her head as best she could and Jude released her. Surprisingly, she didn't fight. Didn't really react at all. "Well?" Jude pushed her chin up. "Let's hear it." Monotonously, but obediently, Shelley recited the prayer, clutching the rosary in her lap. "Very good." Jude settled back onto her heels and joined in with her own Chaplet. Her head bent to Shelley's, foreheads drifting closer together until they touched.

It was some time, their soft voices becoming hoarse, before Jude realized Shelley was barely keeping her seat. And even Jude was lightheaded with exhaustion. It seemed they were keeping each other upright, but only barely. "Shhh." Jude put a hand on Shelley's shoulder. "That's enough now." She used the shoulder to pull herself to her feet, swaying a bit. Shelley's fight had dissipated. Her eyes were glazed from fatigue and hunger.

Jude looked down on her nearly expressionless. So weary… "We all fight the desires of the flesh, Shelley. Even me. Even the Monsignor. Even the saints. Christ himself. But we fight. It's one of the places we find strength." She slipped the rosary from between Shelley's weak fingers. "You have the strength to espouse filth to an impressively artistic degree. But I can't abide lies, or the sullying of a holy man's reputation. Or my own. Understand?"

A very small nod.

"If ya do it again, I'll strap ya upside down ta one of Arden's tables and personally drip holy water up yar nostrils until we flush that filth out. Understand that, too?"

A slightly more urgent nod.

"Good. Now. Because I am a compassionate woman of the Cloth -" she paused just in case Shelley wanted to comment, but happily continued uninterrupted "- I'm gonna have Frank take ya to the kitchens. Where you can grab yarself a bite ta eat before he puts ya ta bed."

"Thank you, Sister." Barely a whisper. Shelley stood slowly, head still downcast. Did she truly feel penitent? Or just weak from hunger? Jude suspected the latter , but hoped for the first. She opened her door.

Frank had gotten a chair and was lounging across the hall, reading the newspaper. He rose when he saw Shelley shuffling out. "Frank, please take Shelley to the kitchen so's she can have some dinner before ya send her to bed."

Frank's brows rose. "Solitary, Sistah Jude?"

"No. She can sleep in her own bed tonight."

"Yes, Sistah." He seemed surprised by Shelley's calm. He hadn't heard any lashes… "Come on, Shelley. Seems it's yar lucky night." Jude locked her office and started down the hall to her own chambers, bed calling more loudly than ever.

"Sister Jude?"

She turned. "Yes, Shelley?"

"I'm sorry."

Jude's lips pursed. She considered. Brightened slightly at the thought that her chosen prayer had worked. "I accept yar apology, Shelley."

"I'll...I'll tell Mary Eunice, too. And - and the Monsignor."

"I'm certain they'll both appreciate yar newfound sympathetic nature."

"But Sister…"

A frustrated sigh. "Yes, Shelley?"

"You deserve better than him. Trust me."

Jude was stymied. Her mouth opened, but there were no words. She watched Shelley shuffle on, and Frank gave her a confused shrug before following.

The clock by her bedside read 2:30. One of those times where it's either way too late, or way too early. Her knees ached. Her throat was dry. Jude drank a few handfuls of water from her little sink and fell into bed. She closed her eyes, clutched a pillow, and imagined a strong pair of masculine arms wrapping around her from behind. His masculine arms.

Shelley's words stopped the fantasy, haunting. You deserved better than him. What the hell did that even mean? Jude squeezed her eyes shut, inviting the arms back. "Words of a lunatic," she murmured, drifting into arms and images of embraces. She dreamed in color. She dreamed in red slips.

There simply couldn't be a better man.

(Title Credit this chapter: Pearl Jam)