All Hallows Eve
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Eve Of All Hallows-Treats, Tricks And Choices free porn video
Eve of All Hallows-Treats, Tricks and Choices
by Tigger
The party had been a disaster.
That was not the first time that particular thought had filtered
through his still befuddled mind. Actually, the whole *night*
had been an unmitigated disaster and it wasn't showing any signs
of getting any better.
The party was the reason he was now trudging home wearing twenty
pounds of black bombazine, chains and beads. And no, reader with
the dirty mind, he wasn't decked out in some stereotypical sex-
slave in a dominance and submission video. Rather, he was
dressed in a nun's habit, complete with rosary belt and painfully
tight, very clunky and ugly shoes.
The annual Halloween costume party at his brokerage office had
been planned with a medieval theme. He hadn't planned on
attending so he hadn't voiced any opinion on the subject. Then
his secretary had, at the very last damned moment, shamed him
into attending the blasted thing. That she'd been able to change
his mind on the subject was quite odd all by itself - he HATED
costume parties - but she'd hammered home the point that this
annual event was one of the few times his team came together for
"fun" and she'd managed to "convince" him that it was his bossly
duty to show up and join the "fun". In costume.
"Yeah, right. Sure had fun," he mumbled, only to find himself
tripping when he scuffed the thick heel of one shoe on a curb.
His arms went flailing in a hopeless attempt to catch himself but
to no avail. His very next step caught in the hem of the habit's
heavy skirt and he found himself fall twisting down onto the
pavement.
"DAMN!" he swore as fought to straighten out the head piece that
was now covering his eyes. Grimly, he started to stand and found
that he had twisted his ankle badly during the fall.
It was the crowning indignity of the evening. Totally exhausted,
his toes trying fruitlessly to curl against the painful grip of
the shoes, he simply sat there on the ground, fuming. Resigned,
he reviewed everything that had gone wrong about this party,
starting with his "choice" of costume. "Choice," he muttered
leaning back against a fire hydrant, "Like I'd really had a
choice in the matter."
In a burst of honesty, he had to admit to himself that there
actually had been a choice. His decision (Hah! - his *secretary's
decision* was more like it) to attend had been made the day
before the party - two days before Halloween itself. The costume
pickings, and particularly the pickings that might remotely fit
the party's "medieval" theme had been bloody slim. The lady
who'd owned the costume shop had thought she could pull together
a serf's costume from bits and pieces she had around the shop but
the only other option she could offer had been a classic black
nun's habit complete with under tunic and headwear.
It should have been a given - he'd go as the serf and leave the
party just as soon as was even semi-polite to do so. Except,
that he couldn't bring himself to consider that option further.
Something about the nun's habit had called to him. . .had pulled
at him. Perhaps, he mused, it had been the memories. He'd gone
to a Catholic parochial school as a boy, and the nuns had made a
lasting impression on him. Firm, yet kind, gentle yet strong.
He'd tried, not always successfully, to model his own leadership
style after them, particular Mother Superior Lucia Theresa.
*That's what had done it,* he thought with a rueful smile, *That
memory of Mother Superior. She'd always worn a habit just like
this one - even after the order had relaxed its dress code.*
He'd wanted to try it on, if just to see if there was something
of that holy woman in him . . . something that the habit might
bring out. Besides, it might not have fit, and then he could
tell his secretary, almost honestly, that there wasn't a suitable
costume left. The sales woman had only *thought* she could put
together a serf's costume, after all, and he had decided not to
give her that chance.
Only problem was that the damned thing had fit him as if it had
been cut and tailored just for him by a master seamstress.
*Damned,* he thought with a half ironic laugh, *Pretty strange
word to apply to something fashioned after a holy woman's
raiment.*
Once he'd tried it on at the shop there'd been no other choice
for him. He'd handed over his credit card without a word. The
shopkeeper had even had the pair of plain black women's shoes and
a rosary belt. He'd added a small black purse (the blasted thing
didn't have any pockets) and had headed home wondering at his own
foolishness.
"You had to find something. . *ANY*thing other than a serf,
didn't you?" he growled at himself, conveniently forgetting that
it had been the pull of habit and not any real revulsion to the
serf's costume that had actually decided him. He wondered, not
for the first time, at where the almost irresistible urge to
dress in feminine clothing had come from. He'd never had the
slightest interest in doing anything even remotely like that
before. Not for kicks - not for any other reason. Never. It
was still very disconcerting. Wierd.
If the time leading up to the party had been bad, the party
itself had been excruciatingly awful. *Everyone* . . .literally
every single one of his employees had made some snide comment
about his costume.
"Sure aren't type casting, are you, boss?"
"Turning over a new leaf?"
"Well, *maybe* if you say *that* rosary a few times a day you
*might* be able to go to church like that without lightning
striking."
"Gonna downsize the convent, Sister? Got those pink slips ready
to hand out after services?"
It was like they all thought he was some kind of blackhearted,
beyond-redemption sinner. Just because he was wealthy and their
boss? So what if he had made money easily? He had done it
honestly. So what if had high expectations of his people? He
certainly paid them very well for their efforts and not one of
them could say he was anything but scrupulously fair in his
dealings with them.
The downsizing crack had been particularly unfair. Yes, he'd had
to terminate some overhead personnel - four of them, in fact.
The competition was just getting too stiff and he'd had to cut
back expenses to remain competitive. He hadn't any other choice
- either reduce costs or eventually go under and cost almost two
dozen people their jobs. It was one of those situations where
the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few.
And hadn't he taken care of the folks he'd been forced to let go?
Every blessed one of them had started work at one of his clients
the very next week, except for Martha. He'd given her an extra
large severance and had arranged for her to get a scholarship at
a local business school. She was well on her way to getting the
skills that ensure her next job paid enough to take care of her
fatherless kids. But no one but him knew about that aspect of
the downsizing. Not even Martha because he hadn't wanted to
further injure her pride by offering what she'd see as charity.
As a result, his pride had taken a beating.
More than that, he'd been hurt by their remarks, actually hurt.
He'd never would have believed that they'd thought so. . . so
negatively of him. He'd always assumed he had their respect,
perhaps even a bit of affection - like a child has for a teacher
or parent who asks for nothing less than the child's best - like
the way he had always felt about Mother Lucia Theresa - but that
was obviously a grave misconception on his part. Only one or two
of their comments could have been construed as teasing or
intended just for fun. The rest had been just a shade above
nasty or even cruel.
Unfortunately, the party had included an open bar, and he'd begun
drinking - not heavily - not that his relative restraint had done
him any good. The booze had affected him the way booze always
did - it went straight to his head. Actually, that precipitated
the only positive memory he had of the whole abysmal evening.
His secretary (resplendent in a "lady of the manor" dress -
obviously *she'd* had no trouble finding a gown in keeping with
her personality) had seen him moving unsteadily and had hurried
over to him. "Are you all right?" she'd demanded as soon as
she'd had him cornered.
"A couple too many drinks." he had answered, enunciating
carefully to avoid sounding drunk.
"I'm sorry for dragging you here. Let me drive you home. I'll
just be a minute." she'd said as she started to turn around
towards the door.
"No!. . ." he realized he'd shouted and blushed, "I mean, don't
bother. You'll miss the party. I'll just go lay down on my
office sofa for a while and then go home when I am more steady."
"You're sure? I mean, it's no trouble and I won't miss very much
of the party?" she'd hesitated and that had convinced him. He'd
seen her having a good time, chatting and dancing the night away.
He'd almost taken her up on it, but the obvious sacrifice she was
willing to make for him had convinced him otherwise. "No, you
enjoy the party and I will go lay down. If I still feel rocky
when you are ready to leave, I will gladly accept a ride then."
He'd gone to sleep within moments of laying down, only to
reawaken hours later in a dark, silent and empty office, the
party long since finished and cleared away. He'd briefly
considered sleeping off the booze in his office, but had decided
against that - the stiff bombazine was starting to poke at him
and make him itch in places he'd rather not itch. He *really*
wanted to get out of the habit and even more than he wanted that,
he wanted into his own bed.
That's when he discovered his purse was missing - along with his
money and his car keys. *Where the hell did I put it?* he'd
thought, only to recall that, along with the other "ladies", he'd
checked his purse at the door of the party. Someone had locked
them away in a secure place until it was time to go home.
A fruitless search of the office turned up no obvious clues to
his purse's whereabouts. Besides, the key to *his* desk, which
was where he locked *his* office master keys was in the purse he
couldn't find.
He'd again considered sleeping away the remainder of the night at
the office and calling someone in to drive him home the next day,
but didn't. His penthouse condo was only a few city blocks away
and the night desk person would be able to let him into his home.
The call of his bed, the warmth and emotional safety of his own
home was just too strong for his injured soul.
Which was how he'd come to be sitting there on the sidewalk in
the middle of the city nursing a twisted ankle in a dress. *It
could have been worse,* he thought, trying to brighten his
outlook, *At least its Halloween so no one had looked at me *too*
strangely for wandering around in women's clothing. Oh well,
time to get going again if I want to be asleep before dawn.*
Sighing, he steeled himself against the pain of his injured
ankle, and forced himself to stand. The few blocks left to his
home loomed huge, but he had no money for a cab, and he was now
closer to his home than to his office. Putting his head down
against the pain, he started limping toward his home.
By the time he was at the last corner, all that mattered was the
pain - moving with the pain and controlling the pain. *God, it
hurts,* he thought over and over again as he made his way into
that final crosswalk.
"Sister!! Look out!!" A voice screamed just before something
slammed into his back - hard - and the world went black.
~--------------~
A brilliant, white light that should have been painful in its
brightness paved his way back to awareness. His first thought
was that he must be in an emergency room, or on an operating
table. That made sense because he didn't hurt anymore.
**You are not in a hospital** a voice seemed to ring in his head.
Without knowing quite why, he knew that the voice originated in
the light.
"Where am I then? What happened to me?"
**You are between. This is a place that is not a place, a time
that is not a time, and you will remain here until you make your
choice. As to what happened, look below you. . .**
The light shifted, and illuminated a scene beneath him. Police
and ambulances now surrounded the intersection. A black pickup
truck was there in the middle of the intersection, but it was
what was in front of the truck that caught his attention.
What looked to be the bodies of two women lay supine on the
pavement - one dressed in the classical black habit of a nun. It
was him! Or at least, the body sort of looked like him. . .only
it didn't . . .not quite. Somehow, what he could see of the face
was older looking, and at the same time, less masculine. Was that
how someone looked after they'd died. . . or gone between or
whatever he'd done?
Then, his gaze shifted to the other body. This woman was garbed
in a simple grey dress with a white blouse beneath the jacket.
Not unlike what a secretary or working woman in some entry-level
position might wear. Except for one small, but very significant
difference. The woman also wore one of the modern, short white
veils. The other woman was *also* a nun . . or rather, she was a
*real* nun.
Thoughts of Mother Lucia Theresa washed over him and all thought
of himself or his fate instantly fled. "Where is the woman? The
sister? Is she here, in this place? This between? Or is she
still alive down there?" he asked the light.
**She is not between. She has passed over. She has been made
welcome for her faith is true and unwavering. Still, her passing
is a sad thing, too, for she had much that she wanted to
accomplish yet. Much that others needed her to accomplish. The
world has lost a saint who would have alleviated a great deal of
suffering in this world.** That last was said with a great deal
of regret. **Enough of that, however. We must decide what to do
with you.**
"I am afraid I don't understand."
**Because this is the Eve of All Hallows, the Eve of the Feast of
All Souls, you may still return to the world of the living.
Unfortunately, your body was badly damaged in the accident, but
it was not your time. You may, however, return in the body of
the Sister. Her life will be adjusted to your preferences since
this was not supposed to be your destiny.**
"But you said she was . . . passed over. . doesn't that mean
dead? Why is her body able to support life and not mine?"
**She tried to save you. She did not take a direct blow, but it
was enough to produce serious shock which aggravated a heart
condition she has been living with for several years. The shock
stopped her heart and she passed over, but in point of truth, her
body is still viable, it is just . . . empty. Yours, however,
took a direct hit from the vehicle and is no longer capable of
supporting a soul.**
"Can't you just take me and let her go back and do the things you
said she was destined to do? All of that good?"
**No. She has passed over already, and you have much yet to
learn before you are ready - things that you can only learn in
life. Therefore, you must choose. Since this was not to be your
time, some options are open to you. Her life will be adjusted so
that you will have every earthly advantage - youth, beauty, good
health. Additionally, as you personally have not made the Vows
that bound her, you will not be bound by those Vows and may live
within the secular world. You may even have your wealth back as
that was all fairly and justly earned in your previous life.
Merely think it, and her body will become what you were in all
things but gender. Your life, your company, everything will be
as it was, and whatever else you wish. Now, you must choose.**
He thought about the pain of the evening, and more, of the
emptiness of a life he had not appreciated until this night. It
was wrong that this woman who had so much to offer the world, who
was destined to help the world, to alleviate suffering was gone
forever. What did he have to offer the world? Money making?
Pretty poor trade. It was too bad he couldn't take her place,
but he couldn't. She was probably a nurse or a wonderful teacher
like Mother Superior Lucia Theresa, and he didn't know anything
about that stuff.
**What you need to know in your new life, you will know.** the
voice said in a new, gentler tone. ** Along with whatever you
currently know.**
"I would know what I would need to carry out her destiny? To
help those people she would have helped?"
**Yes.** The voice said with quiet certainty. **And now, you must
choose. . . **
Closing whatever it was that passed for eyes in this between
place, he nodded his understanding. "I choose . . ."
~-----------~
A hand shook gently at his shoulder and once again, he came
awake. "Are ya all right, Sister?" a big, gruff voice asked.
His eyes opened and he found himself looking up at a very large
cop with a grim-looking, flushed face. *Sister?* He brought his
hand up toward his suddenly aching head and stopped it just above
his eyes. His hand was so. . so small.
And on the ring finger was a simple gold band with a cross.
He *WAS* the nun!
"Do you remember what happened, Sister? The driver is too drunk
to do us any good. Can you tell me your name?"
The question ignited something inside his. . .her head, and she
suddenly knew "her" name. "I am Sister Theresa Maria. The other
Sister . . how. . "
"I'm sorry, Sister, but you weren't able to get her far enough
out of the way and she took the blow square on. It. . .well, it
was quick and she didn't suffer."
"Sarge? Let us through, please." another, younger voice said.
"We need to get her to the hospital and checked out."
"I am not hurt, young man," she said quietly. "I am a nurse and
I know what I feel."
"And as a nurse, Ma'am, you know that we still need to be sure.
Now let us do our job or we'll sic the Mother Superior on you."
"Oh, all right," Sister Theresa Maria replied with a gentle smile
as she heard the clock in the nearby church steeple chime
midnight. *It has really happened. I started the night as a fake
nun, and I start the Feast of All Saints living the life that
should have belonged to a real nun - the Light called her a
saint. Well, I may never be the woman she was, but I will do
everything I can to honor her memory and help the people she
would have helped. So help me!*
~-------------~
The voice in the light chuckled in evident satisfaction. **You
did well, Lady. She will be as she should have been, now, and
much human suffering will be prevented through her efforts.**
"So, Sister Theresa Maria will still be a saint?" the soul that
had been both the proprietress of the costume shop and Theresa
Maria who asked.
**She will, though all who pass over into Paradise are sainted as
you well know. But, this was the only way that would have
happened for this one. It was sad that he couldn't find his way
to faith in his old life, but the opposition conspired to make
his way too difficult. He wasn't an evil person, but something
was missing in that life for him. Now, by his own choice, those
other conflicts have been dealt away. He could have been a
wealthy woman with all the earthly advantages, but instead chose
poverty, chastity, obedience, and most of all, faith. Yes, she
will now achieve sainthood.**
"Wouldn't I have been a saint?" the other soul asked with a smile
in her voice.
**Ah, but you already are one. Tonight's little drama adds one
more to the ranks. With this life, that soul will complete the
path to what the Buddha called Nirvana and others call
sainthood.**
"Aren't you mixing your theologies a bit?"
**Whatever works,** the voice was complacently content. And the
light smiled.
"Still, wasn't this all a little complicated? If being a nun was
what he needed, surely you could have just made him into one?
Why the grand conspiracy?" The soul was curious and the light
seemed disposed towards revealing a few mysteries.
**It was a cusp for this soul, and ultimately had to be his own
free choice, as it has been since Eden.** the voice said
reflectively. **When he allowed himself to be convinced to go to
the party, it signaled a possibility - an openness to the needs
of others - a beginning that could help him find his way. When
he was so entranced by the habit at the shop, by the memories of
his teachers in whom he saw and recognized something that he
lacked - that signaled it was time to move.**
"But what if he had adamantly refused both costumes?" the soul
asked. "It was obvious that he found the serf concept repugnant
and most males in that society are taught from birth that wearing
feminine attire is demeaning or perverted. He might have used
that as an excuse not to attend at the last moment and you just
said that going to the party was a step in the right direction."
**In that case,** the light rumbled with an amused chuckle,
**You'd have miraculously discovered another costume - a minstrel
perhaps, or a merchant. A very minor miracle to accomplish, to
be sure, but fortunately, he didn't need it. The habit called to
him in neither a perverse nor titillating manner, nor did he find
it in anyway lowering. Quite the contrary, since it reminded him
so strongly of our well loved Mother Superior Lucia Theresa.**
"She'll be so pleased," the other soul said before adding
mischievously, "But no prince costumes if the nun-idea had fallen
flat, eh?"
**No, tonight it was vital that he not be isolated in any way
from his fellow party-goers by his everyday leadership position.
Therefore, his costume had to be something that did not reflect
secular authority. All in all, his willingness to accept the
nun's habit was the best outcome.**
"I thought the commentary by his various employees was a little
harsh. At least twice he almost bolted in tears, and another
time the thought of firing the person who was acting as your
mouthpiece was very vivid in his mind."
"If he'd, as you describe it, bolted, or begun to fire one of his
employees, then the exercise would have ended. He'd have found
himself home in bed, and would have awoken the next morning with
only the memory of having attended the party as the minstrel, and
the memory of the nun experience as a dream. It would have
served the purpose to make him think and reflect, and thus kept
him on the path to enlightenment. I *do* have a few eternities of
experience at dealing with such souls as this, daughter.** the
voice added with mild reproof.
"Sorry." the soul said with that mischievous sparkle still
twinkling.
**No you're not, because there was nothing to be sorry for,
minx,** the Light said jovially. **Now, don't you have some
guardian angel duties you need to be about? It *is* All Souls
Day.** At her nod, the light twinkled. **Then scoot. I have some
more of my, what was it you called them? Conspiracies? Yes,
that is it - I have some more of my conspiracies to hatch. The
competition has been getting just a little too feisty lately and
I have a few billion others who will need a gentle push or two.**
The End
Kierra
- 05.10.2020
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