She had the huge mirror in which to see her gleaming flanks waiting forlornly for the strokes from her measured blows. In the darkness of the darker-than-usual corner, a pair of ogling eyes drank in sensuous arousal of her frenzied and depraved march to the happy ending of her releasing tingle.The shapeless bulk stirred as she pushed her hindquarters up into the cold night air and let the chill of the coming winter cool her feverish cheeks. They were splotched with redness and even fleck or two of blood where her arm swung a bit too ardently in search of her required penitence.Sister Mildred peered into the darkness thinking she heard a low growling moan of frustration. All she could see was a void of blackness like the bottomless hole of a well gone dry. She buried her head in her pillow and moved slightly on the hard mattress of straw and muslin used by several other novitiates before her.It was perhaps a bit fortunate that she was somewhat dehydrated because her piss-pot was. Her long bare arms moved in a sensuous way that drove me crazy. A gold tipped cigarette was held between slim fingers that ended in long scarlet nails. Shaking my head I went to the bar just to get another look at her as well as stoke up on the finest Champagne I had tasted in a year. I moved around the crowded room making chitchat with just enough people so I could file some bullshit the next morning. I knew my editor didn't expect much, so I didn't bother making any notes. What the hell, the crap I was going to write I could type from memory. Even while I was talking to people, I was looking past them at that vision in red. I moved from group to group, each time managing to get nearer to her. Finally, I stepped into the group she was with and managed to join the conversation. A few questions identifying myself as a reporter got me involved, these types always love to see themselves mentioned in print. I have to admit I was worried about getting a bulge in my trousers every time she.
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