right between them again.

Carlo. Can we talk about yesterday?

Carlo took a sip of water and look at her indifferently.

What is there to talk about?

Well. We obviously had a disagreement. And we are not feeling like we did before.

Carlo raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Are things supposed to always feel the same. This is not really a reasonable expectations. Things fluctuate. This is the nature of life…

Carlo lowered his eyes dismissing her attempt and went back to looking at his plate. Catherine would not let it rest.

Huh, Carlo. Come on, let’s talk. Really talk.

I don’t know what you want, Catherine. Our lips are moving. We are responding to one another. There is an exchange of ideas. Is this not talking?

No. I mean. Yes. ..I am talking about real communication. Let’s talk about what’s really on our mind. About, you know, your idea with my uniform.

Still looking at his plate, Carlo smiled sarcastically.

Let’s talk "really" about my idea and, your, uh, uniform. What is there to talk about?

Well, since, you know, yesterday, it’s been on my mind.

Carlo finished chewing his mouthful and took a gulp of water. He looked at her in the authoritative manner that had always intimidated her and said.

I don’t want to talk about it any longer. Let’s drop the subject…. I am going to make some coffee. Would you like some?

Defeated, Catherine agreed. They had the coffee and even dessert. The warmth was dimmer. The spark between them had fizzled out. They were uncomfortable but half-hearted-ly pretended. That was to set the tone between them hereon out.

The rest of week felt so uncomfortable for Catherine. Carlo never spoke about her outburst the other day. One night, he went out at noon and did not come back until 10 PM. The whole day, Catherine wondered whether he was coming back. She really cared about him. Was this how loving a man felt? Had she been too harsh? She comforted herself with the fact that his sewing machine, his fabrics and all his stuff were still there. He was at least likely to come get them.

All the same when she heard his familiar footsteps, her heart let out a sigh of relief. She tried to look busy, after all he was an adult, she just could not make it look like she had been expecting him or wanted an explanation.

When Carlo walked in, he scanned the room. He noticed Catherine sitting on the sofa. Holding a magazine upside down. So she wanted to appear indifferent. Who cared whether she cared or not?

- Hi, Catherine. How are you?

- Fine, you?

- Could not be better. Thanks.

With that Carlo went to the bathroom to take a shower. He stayed under the cool spray for a half hour, lathering himself copiously. Feeling completely relaxed, he dried himself and went into the bedroom. It was Catherine's turn to take a shower and get ready for bed. When she got there, she heard Carlo's regular respiration. He was sleeping. And she had so much she wanted to say. This was the first night since he had moved in that they did not make love though she had to admit things had calmed down considerably since the uniform incident. Even in the complicity of the dark, there was no door in the wall between them.

Catherine tried to analyze things. Was something wrong? Their routine had been interrupted that was true. Was that bad? Maybe it was just a phase. Everything could not possibly go well all the time. Catherine twisted and turned, worrying about what was going to happen. When she finally fell asleep the sun was rising.

Things never went back the way they were. Although they never again spoke about that night, it always seemed to hang around them, both pretending nothing ever happened.

 

 

If you fancy romance, this one’s for you. Check out the brief description below and decide if you would like to read the entire book online.

The story

When Carlo and Catherine are thrown together in Flight of Fancy, they are about to find out all about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. They are thirty-somethings experiencing identity crises, career changes and way too much fun. They challenge each other to throw away all the rules, pursue hedonism and stand up for themselves.

A stumble in the dark, throws Catherine, Carlo’s client, in his arms. Their lips brush. Much more than a simple accident for Catherine, this fleeting kiss leads her to question the direction of her life. She abandons her convent, days before making a permanent commitment to the religious life.

Endowed with all the charisma of a misspent life, Carlo carries around repressed dreams, guilt, and a closet full of skeletons. He cannot forgive himself for driving his mother to her death under the influence. A year as a homeless junkie, rehabilitation and rampant promiscuity have done nothing to dull the pain. He makes the best gamble yet and decides to abandon his career as an architect to pursue his dormant dream of working as a clothing designer.

The two Americans meet again in the streets of Rio. Catherine is eager to fit in and experience everything. She elects Carlo as her guide. Though tempted, he cannot pinpoint one reason why he should be interested in someone so plain, a philosophy teacher and ex-nun of all things. Undeterred and un-initiated, Catherine casts her spell on Carlo. They dance the nights away in magnificent sinful Brazil, make love in the afternoon and let themselves experience the splendor of being alive, foolish and joyful for the first time in years. Pushing the envelope, they soon find the limit of their relationship. In the bedroom...

 

This novel is approximately 50,000 words long and is not suitable for minors.

Flight of Fancy
Chapter 1
From his drunken stupor and through a thick daze, Carlo could hear two women talking in Portuguese. He opened one eye. The terribly familiar sensation of a hangover seized him. Every inch of his body sent pain signals. Only a fool would sleep in his jeans and his belt on. Where was he? His eyes assessed the room. It was not his room but it felt familiar. It seemed to be in a basement and the bed was too small for two. So there would not be any strange woman to greet.

The room was dark except for a ray of sunlight that came from a window near the ceiling at ground level. Although a cool breeze came from the window overhead, Carlo’s skin felt clammy. He just wanted to sleep through the hangover. The conversation outside distracted him.

- I can't believe there is no one here to greet us.

The woman who said that had a noticeable American accent.

- Maybe we have the wrong time?

- It is 3 o'clock. The owner of that architectural firm was so nice. I am sure he will follow through on his promise.

- There must be a misunderstanding.

- I need to use the bathroom. It's a long way back. I can't wait!

The American woman who had just spoken had a particularly grave voice. Thankfully, the contralto sound did not puncture the painful spots behind Carlo’s eyes.

- How about behind these shrubs? It will be good for the plants. Come on, hurry up before anybody gets here.

- Okay.

Carlo saw the ugliest black boots this side of the Atlantic walk toward the window. The light hurt his eyes and all the noise sounded like a drill pressed against his aching skull. His ears directed his attention to the source of a soothing stream flowing. He looked up and stared right at the loveliest pairs of calves and thighs he had ever seen.

The champagne colored liquid flowed endlessly reminding Carlo that soon, he too, would need to go. But not now, for this was a pleasant sight. The woman was hugging a black clothing against her chest. He could not see her face. Plain white panties were twisted around the ugly boots. But what legs! So graceful, so slim, so elegant, yet so muscled! The white creamy flesh was truly attractive, soft and virginal. The liquid stopped flowing and the woman shifted her legs to avoid stepping into the puddle. Her movement gave Carlo a full view of her unmentionables.

‘Wow’, thought, Carlo, ‘talk about a morning’. The woman stood up and strengthened her clothing. The heavy fabric fell to her ankles. The skirt or dress was black and unfashionably long. Whoever she was she definitely was not dressed for the heat. Who wore this kind of clothing nowadays? Who could that be?

The woman dropped what sounded like keys. And as she bent over to retrieve them, Carlo got a brief view of her profile: The cutest upturn nose, the most kissable mouth. A typical all American girl. But what was that white stiff fabric around her face?

A huge "no" screeched in Carlo’s head. Sweet Jesus. It was a nun! Fantasizing about a nun first thing in the morning! Now, he was sure to go straight to hell, if there had ever been any doubt. Looking mentally up at the sky, he said to the forces above. "I didn't go looking for that one." Then suddenly, he knew what the nuns were doing there. They had come to pick him up. He had just blown his second chance. How could he have been so stupid as to get drunk the night before his last chance?

How could he have forgotten? If it had not been for the fact that his boss was also his brother, he would be out of a job right now. He just had lost his firm a large contract by sleeping with a client's wife.

He remembered too vividly how his brother Raphael had said:

- Carlo, you are my brother and I love you very much. And I understand that you have been going through a though time blaming yourself for Mama's death. Pull yourself together.

When Carlo didn't answer, Raphael had continued.

- It's been two years. This firm is my livelihood. I have my family to consider. You just lost us our biggest client. Really, I don’t care that the guy is an old geezer or that is wife looks like Sophia Loren. You just lost us our biggest client! … For now, I am putting you in charge of the Charity Sisters sports project. You should be done in less than a month. At least, I know there, you will not find any women to mess around with.

Carlo, bolted right out of bed. He was determined not to disappoint his little brother a second time. But how could he go to the nuns in this state? He smelled like last night sweat and rancid alcohol. He needed a shave and a long shower. What's more he was still a bit drunk. He knew from experience that it would be a while before he could speak coherently.

How could he have done that? Raphael was his little brother. He, Carlo, had shown him the ropes all his life, through kindergarten, high school, through college and with his first woman. Now he had just become a undependable brute to be pitied. A burden for his little brother. No, Raphael did not deserve to have him as a charge. He was going to try to salvage this project and then move on. To mess up where he could hurt no one, nobody he cared about anyway.

He heard the nuns carry on. The woman with the deeper voice said:

- Sister Maria. I am done. Let's go. We did come and the architect was not here. We will call Raphael Antoniazzi this afternoon and explain. We will just have to reschedule.

- Let's go.

Carlo heard the rev of a jeep and soon they were gone. He had to get to them before they called Raphael. He stood up too fast and felt the ground sway. He somehow made it to the bathroom and carried a glass of water and two aspirins to the shower.

The warm spray felt good. While under the shower, Carlo popped the aspirins in his mouth. He swallowed them with a gulp of water. He felt so thirsty, but then that was part of having an hangover. He drank the rest of the water in the glass. Not nearly enough. He put the glass down in the empty soap dish. He should feel better soon.

He heard a knock at the door. It was the maid, Maria.

- Seu Carlo? she said.

- Yes, Maria, what is it?

Carlo popped his head into an opening in the shower curtains. Maria stepped uninvited into the room.

- You just missed the nuns.

- Yes, do you know anyone who could take me there?

- I am going there myself. I’ll catch a ride with you and show you the way.

- Okay, barked Carlo, his head back behind the curtains, lathering himself. Be ready in fifteen minutes and bring me a cup of coffee!

"Todo Bem", she said, but without leaving. "What could she want? thought Carlo to himself. A dark hand pushed away the shower curtain and a smiling face peaked in. Curious eyes took in his tall frame, tapered at the hip to incredibly muscled thighs and powerful horses calves. He was covered with lather and his head was not clear. Carlo, answered his own question. "That's what she wants." Carlo smiled back invitingly. Maria walked in, tossed her dress and panties outside and came closer to him. Carlo went straight to her full breasts and their joining was fast, bestial and satisfactory. They reached orgasm together. Supporting themselves against the shower wall, they struggled to bring their breath back to normal. Carlo’s head was much clearer. Slapping Maria’s buttocks, Carlo kissed her softly and said " Now, would you get me that coffee, Maria?"

Maria smiled satiated. "Sin, Seu Carlo."

He was just that kind of man. Trouble just came looking for me. He was balding, he had several crevices on his face from a childhood sickness, everything about him said bad, dangerous, untrustworthy. Yet, women just came looking for him. So was his fate, thought Carlo, his bad mood and his earlier boost of desolation gone. He was again in good cheers.

He quickly got dressed into a blue work shirt and a tie. He got all his equipment on hand and slipped into one of the leather jackets he had brought with him and yelled: Maria!

She came running with a cup of coffee. Carlo pushed the jeep as fast as the roads would allow never sparing a glance to the scenic views developing as he progressed. The car’s windows were shut and the air conditioning was at full blast. It was mid January and summer was at its height.

Before long, they were in front of the estate of the Charity Sisters of St. Anthony. Maria got off, but not before stealing a last kiss. Carlo parked his car and walked to the door. It was an ornate cast iron door that look so heavy it could defend a fortress. Carlo assessed the place with a piercing glance. He could feel the clock turning back already. The place belonged in another century. The vegetation inside was very luxuriant and green. Far into the paved alley, stood a statue of the Virgin Mary in the middle of a dried fountain.

The entrance reminded him of the establishment were he had gone to school as a little boy in Buffalo. They had thrown him out for conduct unbecoming. It could have been the same Virgin standing in the middle of this paved courtyard. There was barely a breeze. From time to time, the song of a bird interrupted the silence. The smell of a mixture of surrounding flowers discreetly hung in the air. The buildings spoke of a by-gone elegant era when there had been enough time to embellish the finest details.

As a little boy, he had given his mother gray hairs with his constant pranks. Unconsciously his mind drifted to that fateful Easter Sunday, when drunk, he had lost control of his car trying to avoid a scared deer on black ice. His mother had been seated next to him. The impact of the car slamming in the tree on the passenger side along with his mother desperate screams still vibrated in his body.

- Carlo, she had said in soft Italian, surrounded by blood. I don't want you to hold this against yourself. It was an accident, son. Accidents happen. Promise me you will put this behind you and move on to have a happy life. I have always loved you. Tell Raphael his Mama loves him still and always will.

A tearful Carlo had promised. One more promise, he had not lived to keep. You might as well admit it, Mama, said Carlo sadly to the indifferent butterflies, I am a lost cause. Firmly putting, his mother and the memories behind him. Carlo scanned his surroundings behind the black eyeglasses he wore. Everything was so green.

Wickedly he thought, I am just like a wolf surrounded by little virgin ewes. There was nothing he had not tried. He had done drugs. Once when he had been hard up for crack, he had even slept with a man for money. "Wasn't that bad." Carlo honestly admitted to himself. All that was before Raphael had come to rescue him from a homeless shelter in New York City. He had done it all: armed robbery, petty theft, pick pocketing. He had never gotten caught. All that was behind him. He just had to remember to make amends, someday.

For now, here he was about to deal with these innocent nuns. Boy, Sisters, you don't know who is walking amongst you. He thought to himself as he posed to light up a Camel cigarette. He signed sadly. I am many things, but by God, I will not mess up this project. He owed at least that to Raphael. His slim hips walked arrogantly down the alley, conveying sex appeal to the hilt.

 

 

*******

 

Carlo spotted an office to his left and stopped in. A young novice served as a receptionist behind a mahogany counter. His throaty voice addressed her authoritatively:

- Boa tarde, Senhora..

- Boa tarde, Senhor.

- Meu nome é Carlo Antoniazzi. Você fala inglês? Do you speak English?

- Yes, sir, how can I help you?

- I am an architect with Antoniazzi and partners. I would like to speak with Sister Dorota. Please inform her that I am here.

- Yes, Sir. She said before leaving.

Soon, a young nun walked in. Carlo recognized the peeing nun from earlier. In the middle of Brazil, the way this woman carried herself said American. Surprising to find an American nun in such a remote area of Brazil. He looked at her woodenly, his face unreadable but his eyes saying, I have seen the treasures under this heavy robe and you don't even know!

Sister Dorota saw the man in his early thirties young Gladys had identified as Carlo Antoniazzi. The one who had not been at their meeting. She looked at him. Everything about him spelled sexuality, improper behavior from his tight jeans hugging what looked like muscled thighs, to the leather jacket to the black shades he at last had the decency to take off. The gesture revealed a face etched in stone, shaped like an ax, marred by deep crevices and pierced by pitch black pupils. The aroma of a no-doubt expensive cologne teased her nostrils.

Very nice, thought, Sister Dorota, this was to be another unpleasant assignment. How she longed for the end of this month to come. Her temporary vows would expire and she would take perpetual vows. This last year the Sister Superior had given her as many worldly assignments as possible to give her a chance to see all there was to miss of the secular world. As if there were any doubts. At twenty-seven, she was a grown woman and she knew what she wanted. Still, this year had been tough.

She did not mind Sister Superior Angela’s efforts to give her more assignment outside the convent for she knew it was done out of love and concern. What she really did not like were the letters from her parents protesting the validity of being in a religious order. Her mother was convinced she had taken the veil to be spiteful. Her parents were atheists. No one understood how she had become a catholic nun. She was surprised they still bothered.

She had been raised in the middle of so-called enlightened intellectuals of the New York elite. Miracles happened everyday. The Lord worked in mysterious ways. He had with her. He had taken a troubled teenager, on the verge of depression and turned her into a mature woman dedicated to the service of her worldly community. Sister Dorota really liked her life now. Wherever her vows of obedience took her she was sure to live among a community of generous women, dedicated to a life of generosity and of service. So far, in her seven years with the sisters, she had served in the jungles of Peru, the deserts of Saudi Arabia and now Brazil. There was always the serenity of belonging to God, work to be done and food on the table. Why on earth would she want to go back there? This desolate place where everyone was selfish and self-centered and where disorder reigned, where crime and indifference happily cohabited? No, she would die a nun just like the recently departed eighty years-old Sister Rosalie.

Snapping back to the present, Sister Dorota looked purposely at the cigarette in the hand of the architect. Already the smell of the cigarette, was impregnating every corner of the room. He smiled and threw the cigarette through the only window. It probably landed in the middle of the laurel trees outside.

- Sister Dorota?

- Yes, Carlo Antoniazzi?

Again Carlo was surprised by the quality of her voice. It was deep enough to belong to a man. Yet, the melodious quality left no doubt as to the very feminine sex of the speaker.

- Yes, a pleasure. Let me apologize for having missed our meeting this morning. An unfortunate event came up, it could not be helped. Please accept my apologies.

- No harm was done. We were so grateful when your brother offered to design and build our sports center. Such a generous act on his part, such a needed and appreciated gift for us. Our young girls desperately need the rigor and discipline of sports. Sports teaches girls team play, self-confidence and camaraderie. Most important lessons in today's world. All of our pupils are from under-privileged backgrounds. We try to arm them with an attitude we hope will bring them success.

Carlo, thought, "Oh, spare me the sob story."

_ Could we take a tour of the facility? While we do, perhaps you could tell me what you hope to accomplish. Where you envisioned this sports center? How many people you hoped to accommodate?

- How I wish you could have been here sooner as planned! It's already five O'clock. That only leaves us an hour before communal prayers and supper. Let's see what we can do and maybe you could come again tomorrow?

-Certainly. My sole commitment currently is to your sports center. I remain at your disposal.

- Let's go then.

The inside courtyard was paved with cobble stones. They passed the water fountain with a statue of the Virgin Mary in prayer. Sister Dorota, nodded to the statue as if it were alive. A large colonial set of stairs led to a three-storied building. They did not take those steps. Instead they walked to another flight of stairs next that opened up on another courtyard. The estate was actually much bigger that it appeared.

Sister Dorota proceeded to take Carlo on a tour of the property. It was quite vast and everything about it spelled otherworldly, with a certain peaceful and bygone air. There were butterflies flying from flower to flower enjoying the abundant sunshine. Every green leaf, every patch of lawn, glistened, witness to the care that was lavished upon them. There was not a single dried leaf on the ground, nor any sign of a discarded piece of paper.

From time to time, they ran into a nun or a novice and Sister Dorota acknowledged them with a smile and a nod. As she talked, Carlo became fascinated by the movements of her tongue. It was darting in and out of her mouth, a soft and tempting pink. His conscience screamed, "Carlo, you monster, is there nothing you will respect?"

Sister Dorota was rather short. Full of energy, she quickly climbed innumerable numbers of stairs showing him possible locations for the sports center.

Carlo tried to situate the light. Mentally, he visualized ways to simultaneously add a modern sports center and preserve the atmosphere of the estate.

Sister Dorota was feeling an unfamiliar heat. Not knowing what was happening, she found herself wondering about the improper life Mr. Raphael Antoniazzi was leading.

Did he sleep with women he did not care about? Probably. They were probably exquisite creatures. How was his body? Drawing from her classes in biology and what could be deducted from under the jeans and the work shirt, her treacherous mind flashed most improper pictures of Carlo nude, cavorting in a river surrounded by women of disrepute. Dear God, was that jealousy she just felt, pinching her heart? And was that lust between her thighs? Most certainly not! Even our savior Jesus Christ, had been tempted. She just would have to go to confession and work on overcoming these temptations. Mortification of the flesh was in order. There, she would fast for a week to punish herself for these carnal thoughts.

Unaware of Sister Dorota's train of thoughts, Carlo was sharing with her his impressions. When he caught her eyes staring at the movements of his protruding Adam's apple. He paused for a moment. It was inordinately big. But did it warrant that much attention? Come on Carlo, said his conscience, now you would have this young innocent nun fantasizing about you? "Hey, I would not mind", answered the devil inside him. "Not at all. Those were creamy thighs this morning and what a musical flow". Carlo smiled seductively to his conscience but instead found Sister Dorota's outraged eyes looking at him contemptuously.

- Are you listening, Mr. Antoniazzi?

- Most certainly, Sister Dorota, you were saying?

- This is one of the alternate sites we had in mind. The complex would have to be built above this storage room where we keep some supplies. We are not sure whether the structure could withstand it. If need be, we could do without it.

- Let me take a look inside.

- One minute, -said Sister Dorota- climbing down a couple of steps.

She took some keys out of a fold in her habit and opened a door. She invited Carlo to enter. From the bright sunshine they were suddenly thrust into darkness.

-There is no electricity, said Sister Dorota.

Her voice almost covered by the songs of cicadas. Let me get the flash light.

When she moved she bumped against Carlo and fell in his arms. Trying to straighten her, Carlo inadvertently palmed one of her breasts.

A surprised Sister Dorota murmured "oh". And trying to regain her equilibrium in the dark, her lips brushed against Carlo and lingered a second too long. For the eternity of a minute, Sister Dorota returned the kiss. The blood that rushed to her head created a threatening buzzing sound in her ears. Quickly, her reserve snapped back into place and she pushed herself away from Carlo.

- Mister Antoniazzi! -she said in a scandalized tone,- May I remind you that I am a servant of God. Betrothed only to him.

Carlo had never believed that the nuns in his school had been hypocrites but apparently this character flaw existed even within this sanctuary, for she had kissed him back!

There was society and more importantly his brother to consider so he said:

-An unfortunate lapse. Please accept my most humble apologies. Please don't mention any of this to my company. I would then be sure to loose my job.

- As long as this will not happen again.

- You have my most solemn promise.

- Let us go then. It's almost time for communal prayers.

Walking and almost running out the door and up the stairs to the light, Sister Dorota said "Shall we say noon tomorrow?"

- Noon is fine. Did you call my office, Sister Dorota, to reschedule our morning appointment?

- No. I had planned to do it later on in the day. I must go now. Follow the orange trees to the main path and you will recognize your way out. Good day, Mr. Antoniazzi.

Silently, Carlo turned away and walked out as he had been instructed.

 

 

*******

 

At noon, the next day, Sister Dorota, nervously waited in the receiving room. The darkness and the silence of the room was soothing to her taunt senses. She felt a nagging headache and her eyes could not stand the brilliance of the sun outside. She felt faint probably a result of her punishing fast. Thank God, there had not been any witness to the incident yesterday. She had not told anyone. Not even her friend, Sister Maria. She should have told this sin at the priest at confession. She should have asked to the Sister Superior to take her off this assignment. But then, they would have asked her to consider whether she was really ready for a life of perpetual chastity. Whether this was not a sign that she was not ready to take on perpetual vows. Where would she go then? What would she do? She could already see the smirks on her parents' faces, the I-told-you-so’s. The sarcastic intellectual remarks.

Sure, she had a Master in Divinity and a doctorate in Philosophy. But how marketable was that? She was sure there were any number of jobs she could successfully carry out. She was an experienced teacher. She had after all taken up and succeeded with a number of challenging projects and fundraising. She had lived in foreign countries. She spoke fluent English, Spanish and Portuguese. But to go back there. In this world, where she had never felt at ease. Where she had always felt foreign.

Oh, Dear God, What was she saying? Those were all the wrong reasons to want to stay in the order. One stayed in the order because of a deep love for God, a love so deep one could not stand to be distracted by families and friends, a real desire to serve. Not fear. But surely this was not her case? She had been fully confident until this despicable architect had laid his dreadful black eyes on her yesterday.

She had already started her fast. But just to warn her flesh, yesterday, in the bathroom, she had taken a huge belt and raised it several times against herself until her flesh knew that it had sinned and that it should sin no more.

A distressed Sister Dorota heard decisive steps coming in the direction of the receiving room. There he was, Mr. Carlo Antoniazzi in the same tight fitting blue jeans and a dark blue work shirt. He looked as animal and as potent as yesterday. He took off his sunglasses. Extended his right hand toward her, the picture of decorum. As if nothing had happened yesterday. But then to him, their kiss, had probably been one in a sea of millions. He probably though very little of her. After all she had blamed him, when they both knew she had kissed him as well. Now she had disparaged the name and reputation of all religious people. Maybe some day, this poor sinner would think of taking refuge in his religion but the memory of her hypocrisy could keep him away from the lord. Oh, what had she done? How was she going to make it right?

Carlo had a portfolio with him. He opened it and said:

- Sister Dorota, I have made some sketches of the property and indicated the trajectory of the light. Let me show you my evaluation of the suitability of the proposed sites.

Distracted by his nervous hands endowed with curiously long, sensitive fingers for a brute, Sister Dorota barely listened to his explanation. As long as they had the sports center and it did not stick out of the property like a sore thumb, it was all that mattered. Now she was close to losing her sanity. She had to do something.

- Sister Dorota, given the size of the sports complex, it appears that the best place would be over the storage room you showed me yesterday. Unfortunately, I did not have a chance to measure everything. Could we possibly go back? Once I have the measurements, I would be able to show you the prototype within a week or so.

My, oh, my, by his behavior you would never guess anything improper had taken place in that storage room. Looking into his inscrutable eyes, Sister Dorota said:

- Let me take you there. You can take the measurements and assess the foundation.

As they walked up the long shaded path, they were both too preoccupied by the possible consequences of their actions yesterday to notice that the air was perfumed delicately with the fragrance of the abundant tropical flowers in bloom everywhere. Sister Dorota tried to repair the damage she had caused yesterday.

- Mr. Antoniazzi, Let me apologize for the incident yesterday.

- There is nothing to apologize about. Let me again present you with my most humble apologies.

- No, it's important to me to redress what I have done. I appeared to put the entire blame for our actions on your shoulders when we both know it was not so. I apologize. I don't want you to think that all religious people are hypocrite and to rob you of the assistance of the religious clergy should you feel the need.

Great, thought Carlo, as if he was ever likely to feel the need to confess.

- Don't worry about me, Sister Dorota. As far as I am concerned, the whole incident never took place. I have already forgotten about it.

As he said that, Carlo, flashed her a enigmatic smile which he hoped would close the subject of the whole sorry incident. Trying to change the subject, Carlo asked:

- How long have you been a nun?

- About seven years now.

- I hope you don't find me irreverent. I always thought of convents as middle age institutions to send misbehaving women or to loose encumbering heiresses, did you willingly come or was it the wish of your parents?

Sister Dorota laughed at that. The wish of her parents. That, was a good one.

-No, I met this order through a counseling service when I was having problems as a teenager. And more and more I developed a desire to stay and to help others just like I had been helped.

- So, asked a mischievous Carlo, there are no mean nuns making your life miserable?

- Quite the contrary. It's like belonging to a huge loving family. There is a lot of serenity, knowing that God always is watching over you and having made a vow of obedience, you no longer have to make plans, He will send you where He will.

- Couldn't you know and feel those things as a lay woman?

- I suppose so. But there is a lot of interference. Every day life gets in the way of contemplation. You worry about friends, parties, wives, husbands, bosses. The voice of God, gets lost in the background.

- I don't know. Though she failed with me, my mother was a very religious woman, who served her community. She helped a lot of people.

- I am sure she did. One work is not superior to the other. The important thing is to follow your vocation. What God called you to.

A breeze passed, lifting Sister Dorota's veil. Gently with nervous fingers, she flipped it back to her shoulders. Her eyes smiled serenely as she met Carlo's tormented ones:

- And God called me to serve him.

- See, that's my question. I have always meant to ask. How does he call you? Was it a voice in the woods, a person in your sleep?

- For some people, for me it was a deep need to do this. A desire to serve and be his. Nothing else mattered.

- You say you have been a nun for so long. Weren't you rather young and inexperienced to make such a life time commitment?

- There is no age. And you don't make a lifetime commitment at first. Our religious formation is divided into different status periods. First, two years of postulancy, then two years of novitiate and only then do you take vows, temporary ones. A five year promise. Then you take perpetual vows.

- Perpetual vows... Did you take them yet?

- At the end of this month.

Ah, Ah. Carlo's little inner demon exclaimed. Maybe he should give this curiously interesting nun, something to choose from. No, said his conscience. He decided to listen to his conscience in this instance since he had blown off his last assignment for Antoniazzi and Partners. Seducing a nun, would not patch things off with Raphael.

When they reached the storage room. Sister Dorota, opened the room and let Carlo in.

- There you are, I'll wait outside. The flash light is straight ahead.

While she waited outside Sister Dorota felt sure that Carlo resented being treated like a leper. Under the hot sun, she found her imagination playing an impossible possibilities game.

What if, while fumbling in the dark, Carlo bumped against some objects and fell? The cans of paint for instance? What if, alarmed, guilty as she felt, she rushed in to help him but tripped and fell on him instead.

What if, they found themselves lying body against body? What if, Carlo attempted to steady her by holding her waist and his hand lingered…

What if he brought her head down and kissed her profusely. His tongue would probably slip into her mouth and caress her palate. Would he taste like passion fruit?

- Mr. Antoniazzi, she would say outraged, in this sinful fantasy she could not abandon, feeling an imaginary erection across the layers of her uniform.

What a degenerate imagination I have, thought Sister Dorota, watching this fantasy unfold in her mind’s eye as if she were naught but a detached spectator. She was unable to will herself to abandon the fantasy so she continued watching. Her shocked and frozen conscience saw her imagination play out the fantasy from shameful act to shameful act.

She saw herself caught in the uniform that was supposed to protect her. Her lost legs were unable to find a balance. She twisted valiantly trying to get up and instead fell quite ungratefully on her buttocks between the architect’s thighs.

That dreadful architect sat up and slid his hand underneath the folds of her long skirt and found the junction of her thighs. He was busy kissing her neck. She was making sounds of pleasure. Every one of his kisses sent unknown pleasures up her spine. Sensations her body was feeling now, outside this fantasy.

- Let me go at once, Mr. Antoniazzi! Her dream alter ego said..

In her mind’s eye Sister Dorota saw herself get up un-gracefully. The vision continued.

Carlo got up and looked at her straight into her eyes.

- I felt it was my vocation to tempt you with what there is beyond those walls.

Smiling wickedly, he added:

- Maybe it was God acting through me.

Oh, My stars, thought sister Dorota inwardly, clutching her hands to her heart as if she was about to have a heart attack. What if it were true? What am I to become? Tears came to her eyes.

Completely unaware of Sister Dorota’s current visions, Carlo speculated. I get it, thought Carlo, the little nun, is having second thoughts about this perpetual chastity bit. She has not reported yesterday's incident to her superiors as she should have. Or else he would have heard about it or they would have assigned someone else. So she did not have anything against him, he had something against her!

Ah, ah! How low have you sunk, Carlo? the little voice inside him said:" Blackmailing, seducing, nuns?". "No, answered Carlo, I have not sunk that low, not yet!" He would prepare the model and design the plan and some other architect would have to carry out the management of the execution. He had to get out of Brazil. This sensuous land was too much for his weak conscience to handle.

Carlo took all the measurements, got out and told Sister Dorota.

- I have everything I need. With the estate plane, I should be able to come back next week with alternative models for your approval.

- Thank you, Mr. Antoniazzi, said Sister Dorota, tears in her eyes.

Carlo's heart melted at the sight of her dejected face.

- Listen, he told her. The other day, it was my fault. You are right, you are better off staying here. Out there, it's a mess. Take care. I know my way out.

Sister Dorota, nodded staring at the tips of her boots. When he walked away, huge tears rolled out of her eyes, down her cheeks She locked the door and went to look for Sister Maria. She had a strong feeling that her life at the convent had come to an end. She wanted to sound her decision off an impartial party. And Sister Maria was the only person she felt she could confide in.

 

 

Chapter 2

 

 

 

Sister Dorota hurried to the laundry room where she knew she would find Sister Maria. One by one, in a sense of defeat, she climbed the stairs. Her feet stumbled on the uneven brick paved surface. The day was as beautiful as it always was but she could not see the beauty. The laundry room was filled with bundles of clothes. The smell of laundry detergent and fabric softener overwhelmed her as she walked in. She had always despised their odor. Today they made her nauseous. Indifferent to her turmoil, the engine of the machines turned as calmly as they did every day. The room was hot and hazy. The breeze outside had been defeated. Sister Dorota walked silently up to Sister Maria, touched her shoulder and when she turn, said:

- I need to talk to you.

Sister Dorota and Sister Maria were both of the same age. They had met in Brazil. They had both arrived to their new assignments on the same day. Sister Maria was Brazilian. Fairly tall, she gave the impression of a person that was always in profound reflection, yet she managed to be vivacious and childlike. The smile on her face slowly changed to concern when she saw the despair on Sister Dorota’s usually serene face.

- Dear Lord, what has happened to you Sister Dorota?

Sister Dorota flew herself in her friends’ arms and wept a long time. She wept and wept trying to stop herself to explain what was wrong in vain. The tears would not stop coming so she gave way to them.

Sister Maria, could not imagine what could be wrong. As far as she knew, everything was well. She did not need to know just now. The whole story would come out eventually. So she murmured comforting words and sounds of empathy and let the emotion spend itself.

Somehow the sweet little nothings Sister Maria whispered while stroking her back and the drum of the rolling dryers hypnotized Sister Dorota and her tears subsided. When she had calmed down, she told Sister Maria between hiccups of the incident yesterday and of her fantasy today and of her apprehension that she was not really called to become a nun.

Sister Dorota, did this man harm you in anyway?

No. I cannot lay the fault with him. It was an accident. Please let’s not get him in trouble when what he did, is not at issue. So much as how I reacted.

The memory of her behavior brought on another avalanche of tears.

Go ahead, cry. You will feel better. Don't blame yourself. You are human. Before I became a nun, I had a very active sexual life. I was very social. I went to parties. I danced the nights away. I know what it feels like to be attracted to a man.

Sister Dorota wept more loudly.

Go ahead. Cry until it feels better. You know… You might be blowing this all out of proportion. It was an accident and you had a temptation. Are you sure it means that you have to leave the order?

A month ago, I was completely convinced that this life was my vocation. That kiss put the question in my mind and… And when I started answering, all the answers were wrong…

Hiccups shook her body, and slow tears came out of her puffy eyes. Sister Maria, gently stroked her hands.

What kinds of answers did you come up with?

Sister Dorota gave her a look of desperation.

My first answer was not: "It’s my vocation. There is nothing I would rather do…Or even, It’s important work." All I though was, I can’t go back to life in the secular world. How…scary, …what would I do…

Silence filled the room and still the washing machine kept rolling. Sister Dorota’s tears took over again.

It seems I have just been hiding here. It seems I had a lot of thinking to do and I did it in the order. I was happy and fulfilled teaching and serving. I still enjoy it but now that I voiced those answers, I know in the pit of my stomach that I am just hiding. All the wrong reasons…

Sister Dorota attempted a nervous laugh. Sister Maria stroked her back and kissed her hand. She raised Sister Dorota’s chin and kissed her cheeks.

I think this chapter in your life is over. This incident could not have happened without the permission of our loving God. This could be a sign. You know. Maybe, He wants you working for His good in the secular world. You seem to have desires to stay here not just out of vocation but more out of fear.

- I am so afraid you are right. I am almost sure. What will I do? I was so unhappy there.

- Don't worry. God will show you the way. If you leave, and you decide to stay in Brazil, I can help you get established. Find a job. The congregation will give you some money to help start you off. My family is well connected and I will ask them to help you.

Sister Maria rocked Sister Dorota while she wept for a long time over all this uncertainty. When her tears subsided. Sister Maria told her.

- Why don't you go to the chapel. Pray for God to show you the way. I am sure he will. Meditate. Sleep on it. And you can decide tomorrow.

Wiping her eyes with her hands, Sister Dorota, nodded.

-Thank you for listening and being so supportive, Sister Maria.

- Any time. Any time.

Sister Dorota followed Sister Maria's advice. In the chapel, she remembered the ceremony when she had taken her first vows in an old chapel in Long Island. Her heart had beaten very fast in anticipation and in awe. The sun had set a long time ago and the freshness of the night had invaded the chapel. Tall candles had illuminated the room. The service had been so familiar yet so different. An old priest had performed the service. Every word of his sermon was still clear in her head. God had guided her promotion and would continue to guide them toward a fulfilling life of service. Her hair had been cut. No one from her family had come. She had become God fiancee. Now, whose fiancee would she be?

Sister Dorota recited a thousand "Ave Marias" and a few hundred "Pater Nosters". A disappointed place in her kept looking at the religious statues asking them the reason for this turbulence. They looked just as lovely and inspiring as before but none of them could speak and comfort her and tell her which direction to go. She had brought in fresh flowers for the statue of the Virgin Mary and she stared at them her mind blink. Sister Dorota finally admitted to herself that she was emotionally spent and sent word that she was feeling under the weather and would not be attending communal prayers or dinner and went to bed.

In the morning, she had made up her mind. After an encouraging pep talk with Sister Maria, she went to see the Sister Superior to tell her of her decision. The Sister Superior, as Sister Superiors are wont to be, was very understanding.

- I have suspected for a long time that your time here had come to an end. While I am sad to see you go, as will be all the congregation, we must rejoice to see you follow God's direction. In the end, it will all work out for the best.

- Thank you, Sister Superior. I must say I always enjoyed serving with you. I always found you very understanding and very wise. I am going to miss you.

- We will give you something to start your new life with.

Sister Superior name a generous amount.

- Can we afford it?

- It's a gift from God, accept it. said the Sister Superior pressing Sister Dorota’s hands within her own. Have you decided where you would go?

- I thought I might stay in Brazil.

- If you would be interested, a friend of mine, in a lay school has been trying to fill an instructor's position in Rio. Pretty much the same kind of work, last year of secondary school. Would you be interested? With my recommendation, you are sure to get it.

- Oh, yes, I think I would like that.

The Sister Superior went in an adjoining room to make the phone call. Sister Dorota heard her say her praises in most elogious terms. The older nun came back a smile on her lips.

- It's settled. This will be your salary. Their school year starts in March and that’s when you will be starting. When you get to Rio, you will meet with him and work out the details. It works out well,- the Sister Superior smiled - You have two months to get your bearings.

- Oh, thank you, Sister Superior.

- You can always count on the order. Don't be a stranger. Call us, come visit.

Sister Dorota was about to stand up when the sister superior stopped her:

- One more thing… From your file, I see you did not have a normal adolescence in New York. Things are probably more fast paced than they were when you joined the convent. In many ways, you are vulnerable, like a divorcee. You have taught those sexual hygiene classes, you know about those dreadful sexually transmitted diseases…

- Of course, Sister Superior. Thank you for caring.

- And smile my child, we need pious lay people. This is not a malediction.

Smiling Sister Dorota rose. At dinner, Sister Superior announced her decision to the congregation. Everyone wished her well. The day her 4-year vows ended, they had a little celebration in her honor.

 

 

*******

 

 

On his side, Carlo left the convent feeling like a heel. He walked with dark thoughts towards his car. No one would have guessed looking at him for he exuded self confidence but inside he was really shaken by remorse. His blood was boiling in his veins. He could feel it pounding inside his head. He had seen how disturbed the little nun had been. Quite obviously, his careless act had caused a big ripple in her life. Carlo mentally punched himself in the stomach. When, he asked, will I stop messing up? At my age, I should think more before kissing females at the whim of the moment. Was it not bad enough to have lost his brother’s biggest client messing up with a woman? What kind of person felt attracted to nuns? What kind of monster acted on the attraction?

Those thoughts brought to the surface a description of himself he did not like. As was his habit, when his conscience bothered him, Carlo lit a cigarette and told himself how fast he was heading for hell. When he got into his car, he put on some music and let the exotic rhythm help him forget like so much red wine.

For a week, Carlo worked non- stop on building the models for the sports complex.

He noticed that unlike those days in college when he had lovingly buffed and re-arranged every single piece, now he was in a hurry to finish. There was no more joy in his work. No pleasure. When had he stopped enjoying architecture?

Honestly, Carlo admitted to himself that it had been quite some time. What else could he do, he asked himself. What else. Carlo, Kiddo, he told himself, "it’s too early for mid-life crisis, and you don’t have a wife to cheat on or to exchange for the younger version." Smiling mockingly to himself, Carlo shrugged his shoulders. What are you gonna do, Carlo?

Carlo finished alternative small scale models for the sports center that week. He felt removed from the tasks observing himself as he carried them out. In a way, he knew that the sport project would be his last architectural deed and he wanted to remember it.

Raphael had been a little stiff lipp-ed since the incident. Carlo did not blame him. If places had been reversed he knew he would not have been this understanding. All the same, he brought Raphael a coffee.

Raphael, Let’s talk…

Raphael looked at him. Carlo knew his brother could not hold a grudge too long. He leaned his head to the side like a lame dog. Raphael fell for it and they hugged.

Raphael, I really appreciated everything you did for me. Getting me back up on my feet from the homeless shelter. You gave me what I did not deserve. You got me back on my feet, you gave me a job and you gave me hope.

Raphael looked a lot like Carlo except shorter, stockier and without the crevices on his face. Since he did not smoke, his voice was softer, gentler.

- Carlo, please stop thanking me. You would have done the same for me. Don't worry about that client. There will be others. I only have one brother.

Thanks. I am sorry about the mess I caused. I think I need to make a break. My heart is not in architecture anymore. I need time to think. Thanks to you, I have some money saved up. I want to take time to think . And decide where to go from here.

Why don’t you just take a vacation?

I need more than a vacation… My life has no zest. The women don’t help… Nothing does. It feels like I have nothing to live for…

It happens to everyone. You wake up one morning and you wonder. What happened to the butterflies? What happened to the smell of the roses? What happened to the taste of the oranges? Hum?

Raphael raised his shoulders in a question mark.

Carlo. The answer is not to stop everything. Take a vacation. Do something you have never done. And you’ll see, things will look great again…

Carlo could see inside Raphael’s head. He knew Raphael still worried that he would go back to drugs and disappear. He felt guilty that he had created this anxiety.

Raphael, don’t worry. I am not going back to drugs. I am not going to disappear. I just know I can’t go on like this. I have gotta find better…

Maybe you should get married.

Raphael’s eyes filled with mischief.

Even if, the lucky woman does not tame you. Think about the possibilities. Children of your own. Family meal every day. Let me tell you, you even start to like the nagging.

An unpleasant electric current frizzled down Carlo’s vertebral column. God preserve him indeed. Wife, children, family meals!!! The very idea had him yawning into eternity.

Oh, you know me too well to say that sincerely. No. I need to make a break. That’s it for me. Please don’t insist.

Raphael sighed deeply.

Okay. If, that's what you want. You know you always have a job here. I don't want you ending up in some homeless shelter again. You have a home with me always. Always.

Raphael’s voice choked up as he said that. He really loved his brother and wanted him to be okay with all his heart.

Carlo thought of the cold nights in Manhattan. The glitz of the city had been there. Powerful wall street moguls had kept on doing their deals. The prostitutes and their pimps had made their own deals. He had left impotent and filthy on the steps of the subway system, begging for money for food. He had sung and told fake sad stories. He had stolen. All for money. Money he would use for drugs. Even in the depth of his private hell, he had know that he could have gone to Raphael for money. But he had been too ashamed to ask his little brother for help. He knew now that it had taken Raphael a year to locate him.

Raphael did not blame Carlo for his mother's death. Accidents happened. Carlo was his entire family now save for his wife and his two daughters and he was not going to loose him again. Suddenly he had an inspiration.

- Carlo, Papa always said, it was not an occupation for real men. When we were in High School, the girls used to love your designs. You seemed to love it.

Carlo smiled remembering these days of happiness long gone.

- No, I am serious Carlo. You don't need to go back to New York right away. Think about it. It could be a fresh start for you in Brazil.

- You are leaving.

Lowering his eyes, Raphael answered:

- There is no point in being here anymore. I can't salvage the contract. Lucy misses me. There is a chance I might be able to bid on a residential complex in New Jersey. So, I will probably leave this Friday.

- "I am sorry", said Carlo. feeling dejected. He knew how much work had gone into getting this contract. He had sent it all down the drain for a roll in the hay.

- It's done now. Think about what I said. You don't need to be Yves St. Laurent. You can open a boutique. The way you use to go, you should have enough stock to open a boutique in no time.

- I don't know. It was such a long time ago. God, he said, passing a tired hand over his face, I feel so old!

- It's all about your attitude. You are alive. Papa is dead. Stop living for his approval. Where he is, he doesn’t care. If you decide to do it or if you need financial backing for anything else, I have got a stash of money, Lucy does not know about it and it's yours.

Carlo stood up and hugged Raphael. His little brother! How he loved him. If had not been for him, he would have committed suicide a long time ago.

- Okay, I 'll hang around Brazil for a while. I’ll think about what you said.

Carlo put all of his affairs in order and scheduled an appointment with the Charity Sisters. He was not going to hang around and make that poor nun’s life miserable.

The day of the appointment, Carlo waited patiently in the sitting room. Someone else talked to him about the project. When Carlo realized that Sister Dorota would not be coming, he felt a mysterious feeling, disappointment? Who cares, he told himself, let this sorry incident be behind me forever.

Carlo explained the different alternative models to the nun, outlining the pros and the cons. Telling her what considerations were important. She called in a couple of other nuns and they liked his designs. They unanimously chose the one fitted on the storage room.

The next week, Carlo introduced them to the engineer that will be taking care of the construction and left. Carlo wondered about the young nun. Was she all right?

He returned to the house Raphael had rented. He prepared his luggage and left. What was there to miss, but the memories of how he had messed up, his shame, his humiliation? Please, Carlo, begged. Don’t follow me. I want to be free and feel proud of myself again.

 

 

*******

 

 

Carlo had been in Rio one week when he run into Sister Dorota in the street. He almost did not recognize her because she was not wearing her habit.

Well, Hi, Mr. Antoniazzi.

The deep voice jolted his memory.

Hi, Sister Dorota, said Carlo, a question in his eyes.

I am no longer Sister Dorota. I have left the order.

Carlo took this in stride. Was anything really shocking these days?

Is it Dorota now?

No. I took Saint Dorota’s name because I admired and wanted to emulate her life. Now that I am a lay person, I go back to my given name: Catherine Masters. Call me Catherine. Every one used to.

Nice to see you again Catherine.

Carlo nodded and made a motion to leave. Catherine grabbed his arm.

Wait.

"Does she think there is something between us because of a lousy kiss?" thought Carlo. Her blue eyes were so full of life. At the moment, they were looking at him hopefully. Carlo noticed that she looked much happier than before. And without the dreadful nun uniform, his eyes could make out her forms which appeared quite delicate yet womanly. The shorts she was wearing showed off the thighs and calves he had so admired when he had seen her pee.

Let’s have lunch together, she said.

Okay, said Carlo, thinking to himself. "Maybe I will become the local deflowerer"

They started walking matching their stride easily. The sun was high in the sky. They agreed on a small café and sat down outside to order lunch. Carlo was surprised to find himself enjoying her company. There was a soothing quality to the sound of her voice. Catherine seemed to have found new inspiration. Over coffee, he let his interest show. The aroma of the freshly roasted coffee beans filled his nostrils pleasantly.

So, Catherine, what will you do now?

I have been teaching philosophy for a while. The Sister Superior found me a job at a lay school here in Rio. A friend of mine helped me find an apartment.

How nice.

What a wonderful development, no? Being a lay person does not seem real, yet. .. I have not even contacted my family.

Will they be disappointed?

Catherine looked at Carlo’s Adam’s apple move. Fascinated by the movement and the sensations it sent in her body, she did not avert her eyes. Her attraction was no longer forbidden.

Catherine had spent the last few weeks in deep thought. She had decided that she would become a happy sinner. Within reason of course. She knew of many former priests who continued to behave as priests even after getting married. They were caught between two roles, forever giving homilies and looking at life through the ears of a priest in the confession stalls. Nothing could just be. Every thing had to be judged and evaluated. She knew that this lack of adjustment caused the entourage of the former priest moments of unhappiness.

As for her, she had decided to take the step back to lay life in full stride. For instance, she was going to get rid of her virginity as soon as possible. It seemed silly to wait for marriage to experience sex. Now that she was walking in the shoes of a lay woman, she understood, why it sounded like such a foreign concept to the teenagers she taught. Since this new turn in her life had started with him, why not let him be the first? He definitely had enough experience. She just had to remember to get protection. She answered his question.

No. They won’t be disappointed… So, Carlo, are you here on a project?

No. I am tired of architecture. I am taking a little vacation. I want to feel things out.

Carlo took out a pack of Camel and a lighter.

Do you mind if I smoke?

No, go ahead.

Carlo lighted his cigarette. He took a long drag and exhaled slowly, aiming the smoke at the sky. Fascinated by this new range of experience, Catherine stared at the smoke as it left Carlo’s sensuous lips and leisurely spiraled up. Her blue eyes were full of unmasked attraction, blue pools of wonder, intently looking at Carlo smoke.

The waiter came over and inquired if they would like anything else.

Nothing for me, said Carlo.

I think I will have a caramel flan. Catherine interjected.

The waiter walked away to soon return with Catherine’s dessert. Carlo looked at the sun’s ray in Catherine’s hair. She was surrounded by a golden halo. He looked with amusement every time she took a spoonful of the flan. She obviously had a weakness for it. The sensual enjoyment she was experiencing was evident. Carlo wondered if that sensuality was present in other aspects of her life.

Carlo and Catherine ended up spending the day together. Somehow they found themselves on Avenida Atlântica. They were surrounded by tourists and Brazilians . Everyone was out to have fun. Several times, Catherine averted her eyes. The streets were filled male, female and transvestite prostitutes.

They had dinner at a French restaurant and sat at a table with an excellent view on the street. Catherine felt the pleasure of being alive. Outside, street vendors were selling souvenirs, paintings, sculptures, T-shirts and all kinds of curios. Couples were kissing. A baby was taking his first breath and she was part of it all, sin and all.

Carlo had to admit he was interested in the way his nun from the middle ages had transformed into an insatiable pleasure seeker. Her eyes looked at everything differently, he could tell. Her deep laugh kept ringing and her eyes sent out rays of blue sunlight.

Hey, why fight a good thing? Carlo told himself. He invited Catherine to go dancing. They went to Help, a huge discotheque on Avenida Atlântica. Carlo had been there before. There were flashing lights and laughing groups. Many people were smoking and a thick fog had formed inside the club. The DJ was excellent. One hot number followed another. Suddenly, with the mastery of experience DJs, the music became slower and more sensuous. Carlo showed Catherine the steps he had learned during previous stays in Brazil.

It was such a mystery for Catherine. To twirl around and shake her body, following the inspiration of the moment, every single second. Nothing planned yet harmony