The Flex of the Thumb by James Bennett Page B

said, “I’m ready now.”
    Vano felt more of the flickering in spite of, or perhaps because of, the fact he was getting aroused. After a few moments he asked, “How do we go about this?”
    â€œWell, I can’t very well put my nightgown on if I’m still wearing my clothes, can I?”
    Vano started some heavy breathing. It was hard to determine where the anomaly was more peculiar in this intimate encounter—Sister’s determination or his reluctance. Eventually, he found his fingers on the top brass button of Sister’s navy blue wool Salvation Army jacket. Slowly, he unbuttoned them one after the other until he was able to help her slip the jacket off.
    She closed her eyes as he removed her white blouse and her white bra; her large breasts tumbled free. Sister Cecilia was slightly overweight, but voluptuous. She tilted her head back and began combing her fingers through her long, black hair.
    Vano removed her Salvation Army skirt and then, after some substantial hesitation, he slid her nylon underpants all the way down to her ankles. Sister stepped out, took hold of the back of his head, then pulled his face in against her stomach.
    Vano smelled Sister’s flesh mingled with the sweet fragrance of baby powder. He put his arms around her and let his hands travel the slick contours of her generous hips. Aroused though he was, he found there was still a tenuous location in a flickering hooommm . He asked Sister Cecilia if he was supposed to put her nightgown on now.
    But she answered, “I can’t help myself, Vano; I have to have you.”
    They made love on her bed. The lovemaking gave him so much pleasure it separated him from the comfort zone. He wondered if he might be better off to stay at home instead of going off to college.
    About five minutes after her convulsive orgasm, Sister sat up so she could begin squirming into her nightgown. “We must never do this again, Vano,” she declared. “It’s evil.”
    Vano could feel himself receding deeper, deeper down. He didn’t reply.
    â€œIt’s terribly, terribly evil,” said Sister again.
    â€œI see.”
    â€œThis whole month I’ve wanted you, but the Lord has made His will known to me. And now I’ve gone right ahead and disobeyed.”
    Hooommm it was, deep and firm.
    â€œThat’s what true wickedness is,” Sister continued, “Willful disobedience. We must never do this again.”
    Still, Vano didn’t speak. She was so distant, so way down the wrong end of the binoculars.
    The next thing she said was, “Please go to your room now, Vano.”
    Vano went to his room, trailing his blue jeans and underwear behind. When he went to sleep, he had the dream again. It was the pyramids, but not the pyramids exactly, because there were terraces. Whatever it was it was large, and streaked with gold from the dawn’s early light.
    When he woke up, he pondered the dream. Maybe it was a sign of some kind, or maybe it came from the particle people. But no, didn’t he have the dream the first time before there was ever an encounter with them?
    If the dream was about the pyramids, then the water could be the Nile, but how could the place be Egypt if there wasn’t any sand? Whenever he had the dream, it seemed to provoke the same questions. What was it the particle people said to him? Some day your understanding may be complete . Vano felt not a sliver of frustration owing to the uncertainty; he was lodged in the deepest, firmest hooommm he’d ever known.
    Sister Cecilia helped him pack his suitcases. She was uncomfortable, Vano could see it in her eyes. But for him there was no discomfort at all. The process of packing beside her was all neutral, about like counting boxcars on a passing freight train.

Chapter Three
    A campus host showed Vano to his dorm when he moved in. One of his roommates, a bookish young man named Arnold Beeker, was already there. Arnold