Two Paintings

by Peter Joseph

 

I felt patently silly dressed in my Benedictine Habit and Cowl, entering the Lawyer's Office block.

Father Pershaft told me not to be embarrassed. He was soft on himself; he was often away from the monastery. Not for me, in the country, at work, never seeing anyone, on the farm every day: the milk, the eggs, the cattle and slaughtering pigs for the monastic table.

It was okay, for most of the time, except for the six interruptions each day for the Divine Office I was on my own. I did a good job, I knew it and I did not need others to affirm this – although I knew they wouldn't.

The Lawyer was an immense woman, must have been six foot three, big shoulders, strong looking and a manly face. But she had a nice smile with indication of care for my case.

She read my Uncle's will. She had to read every word. It was not interesting and her voice droned on and on. I was not caught up and did not follow what she said.

I knew it anyway: my uncle died, he left me his fortune. I did not particularly care, because I belonged to the monastery and what belonged to me would belong to the monastery, and to Fr Pershaft. Never had a day away from the monastery before, for ten years I had been there. Pershaft was going to get his hands on this money, and I had to be present.

It was obviously a lot of money. I could tell by the way Fr Pershaft was shifting in his the seat. But I did not give a fig, it was not going to change my life, I'd be milking the cows tomorrow as usual.

"Now Bro Peter: Here are the keys to the apartment and to the vehicle. You must now sign our codex to acknowledge receipt."

Fr Pershaft reached out, pushing in front of me to take the Keys. Sylvia withdrew them beyond his reach

"Brother Peter: Please sign here!"

I duly signed the documents.

Sylvia again slid the keys over to me. Fr Pershaft reached across in front of me to lay claim.

Sylvia withdrew the keys from his reach.

"The keys Missy, The keys!" he said tapping the desk top.

Sylvia extended an expressionless look and held the keys close to her bosom.

"The Keys please Miss!

Again Sylvia returned an expressionless look.

"The Attorney does not accept Church Authority! Well, after the Thirty-Pieces-of-silver trial, we don't necessarily accept attorney authority, so please pass the keys over!"

Sylvia said nothing at first.

I said nothing period.

She then bulked up, put her hands on the desk, leaned forward, looked Fr Pershaft in the eye, and in a quiet voice said:

"Reverend Father. I am obligated to issue these keys to Brother Peter. What he does after that point, is beyond my right to have concern."

"You are here by his invitation! You are not a person with whom I, as the deceased's lawyer am obliged to share intercourse."

"Spare us your legal righteousness, just give me the keys, I don't like games!" fumed Fr Pershaft.

Silence ensured. Fr Pershaft glaring at Sylvia, from the corner of his mouth bayed at me:

"Peter. Order this arrogating woman to give me the keys immediately!"

I sank into my seat and lowered my eyes, flushed with embarrassment, and prayed that I was not there.

He turned slowly to me, I could feel the heat of his face. I dreaded the outburst.

"Instruct this woman immediately! Tell her to hand over the keys. To you or to me! Get me the keys Peter!"

I truly hated the way he created pressure. He was so powerful. I am not here! I don't need to be placed under this pressure!

I did nothing. I did not lift my eyes. I said nothing.

"Pete: Get me the Keys" he repeated, in a quiet voice.

Mortified, humiliated and stunned I ignored his voice as it dinned around my head. I was motionless.

"Okay Brother Peter!"

"Be your normal stubborn self!"

"I am off. You do what you like. Find your own way home!"

"Have the keys on my desk by nightfall!"

He was up. He was out. The door was closed very shut.

I waited, eyes closed in the intensity of the silence. Let the reverberations stop. Let peace descend!

Sylvia said nothing. We remained in silence.

Slowly the quiet annealed my shame. I opened my eyes, and looked at Sylvia.

"The keys Brother Peter, here they are."

"Thank you."

"We can send a message down to detain Fr Pershaft."

"Or, if you wish, I can drive you back to the monastery."

"I will do as you bid."

I reached out and I took the keys.

I looked down. I was too trammeled to think. I thought nothing, and had nothing to say.

Sylvia in a very quiet voice said:

"Brother Peter, may I introduce you to Nurse Jane Miskolc, a psychiatric nurse.

Your uncle contacted Nurse Miskolc to assist you. She is a trauma specialist. She knew your uncle well. She has been well briefed on your circumstances."

I turned around slowly to look at this woman, dressed formally, demurely in a dark business suit.

"You handle tension well Peter. He was impossible! You were bullied. You did not react. You did not participate!"

"No pressure, I will do as you wish, I am on your side. If I can help, good! If you do not think you need my help, I will get up now, leave the room and trouble you no further. But let me say, I admire you greatly!"

"I want to go and walk in my uncle's space. I would like to see the my uncle's apartment. No one should be harangued as you were, as I was! I know nothing. I can make no decisions. Let's go to my uncles' place. That is all I can want at this stage."

Nurse Jane had a sturdy face. No flab, high cheekbones and hair slightly graying. She had big shoulders and a strong chest. Vacantly I stared at her. I was shocked to find my eyes locked on the comforting swell of her breasts.

Shamed at my impertinence, I closed my eyes, shook my body my head, and bolted my eyes away.

I looked out the window, at nothing in particular, just intently staring at nothing in particular.

'What what despicable rudeness!

"You are a person of great courage. Your uncle was much the same. Congratulations on having a splendid man as your Uncle. You are bequeathed great quality Pete!"

I looked over, startled by her grace, and tolerance. I looked at her freshness and at her lovely face, and at the way her sweetly coloured lips moved.

"Your uncle was ingenuous, he opening new avenues, he pressed us all with love, engendering new life and reshaped many a life."

I heard her speak, but her words wee not penetrating. Again, my gaze was involuntarily lured down to her fulsome breast.

I retrieved my grace again, shocked that I was preying on her and abruptly looked away, staring again at the infinite space beyond the window.

"My apologies" I mumbled shaken by my lack of dignity.

"I am lack grace. I am adrift. I apologize. Can I survive out side the walls? Maybe I should go back now!"

"Your uncle asked me to assist your adjustment. I will do anything possible to help you."

"He told me all about you. He loved you very deeply. He had clear perception of you. He prepared us for what you are going through."

"I am happy to drive you back to the monastery. Whatever you decide, we will be here to help you; You only have to call."

"Yes of course" I muttered and I don't know what happened next, but I followed them out to the car, I must have stepping away from her umbrella and was saturated by the rain spilling from the awning.

I slosh into the taxi, utterly drenched for the short drive to the apartment.

Cold and shivery I entered the apartment. Looking with awe, I sneezed "amazin…ious.. ..".

"Into the shower for you Pete" said Sylvia.

"Throw the clothes out the door. We will get you some thing warm."

"You could get a death of a cold!"

She set the shower running, and gathered my clothes as I was immersed in the splash and steam of the multi directional shower

I pressed the button and a lavender body moisturizer salved and softening me. I leaned against the wall, recovering from the Pershaft blasting and replayed memories of my Uncle.

I had not seen him since the time my mother caught us. She had it so wrong! It was my First Communion day.

He took my photo. Then he asked me to pop into a white frock and veil.

I saw no harm. But when she caught us, she rant at him, and clobbered me.

'You dirty little boy' she shouted.

It was so innocent. I never saw my Uncle. Life gradually slipped into hard-labour.

Sylvia's call, interrupted my thoughts.

"Clothes are here Pete. This is all that is available. But they are warm, soft and dry; Hanging up; waiting for you; When you are ready, we are out here!"

I dried myself off with the deliciously large and soft pink towel.

I brushed my hair, smooth and soft as it was from the moisturizer.

I took the undies from the hanger, soft and pink, and slipping into them.

Slipped into the pink flannel shirt, buttoned on the wrong side, and open at the neck!

Soft against the skin, not like the rough shirts I had been wearing; Warm and it was comfortable!

I reached to the hanger for the trousers, flicking them open, slipped my leg in: They were not trousers!

It was a long dark brown Dress.

I stood there amazed; and called out: "Sylvia!"

And then quickly put them on, zipped and button, fearing she would burst into the room and see me.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I was shocked, everything was clearly feminine.

I slipped into the shoes, slightly raised in the heels, I went out to protest.

It felt perverse, my bare legs rubbing, dress swirling around, the blouse at the chest.

The colors were ribbing up and down my face, as I turned to Sylvia desperately:

"I can't! This is not right!"

"Sylvia smiled so warmly, comforting and with understand.

"Oh you poor dear" she said as she held me close to her.

"This is all we found in this flat."

"So much is happening, so quickly, you poor dear!"

"Your clothes are all half way through the first cycle."

"You are with friends. We understand. It does not matter; we are on your side. I am so sorry."

I began to sob. All of the pressures of the day flowed out of me. I was not accustomed to embrace. My mother never embraced me. I just stood there and sobbed. Feeling supported for the first time. I startled out of this, feeling her large breasts soft on my face.

'This is just not right' I though. I gathered my self, regained my composure and pushed away.

"Thank you Sylvia. I will be okay now. It has just been a little bit too much. The bullying, the shower, these clothes, it has all come too quickly.

I will be okay now. Don't worry about me. I am a pretty strong type!"

"You surely are Pete, now come with me. You need to be reacquainted with your uncle. Bit of a steep learning curve Pete!"

She led me into the master bedroom that was now to be mine. It was pink, fluffy and frilly. It was not at all like a man's bedroom.

"Ecche," she said casting her hand around, and leading me to the walk-in Dressing room.

Arrayed there, to the left and right were clothes, all of them women's.

I walked in it shock amazement, the colors, the clothes, the décor, it was all feminine. So very feminine!

"I didn't know he was married. This is my uncle's place! What is this all about…?"

"He was not married" said Sylvia. "Your Uncle was an inventive man. See the photos. He greater than a mere man. He reached out to men and woman equally. He supported both. He gave as both."

The photo was of a woman; but clearly my uncle.

"As the years went by," Sylvia continued, "he realized the blessing of the female side, which gives and sustains life.

"But my uncle has large breasts!"

"Oh yes" sniggered Sylvia. First thing I noticed about him. He was proud of his bosom and their attraction.

'They proclaim the Fecund', he used to say. He loved to offer her breasts to the desperate and lonely!"

"He saw sexuality as the gift for creation, to sustain hope and give life to the deflated. 'Come to me' she would say, with chest and arms out stretched!

"Let me give you solace, let me change your spirit, enjoy creation and to hell with those who despised fun!'

"He was a bundle of fun.

I stood there mute, numbed and wandered vacantly feeling the luxuriant clothes – the colorful blouses, the evening gowns the business suits.

"He was so smart and attractive. I don't remember him being like this." I mused on in confusion, distractedly not actually knowing anything about anything.

"Come honey, life has to continue. Lets move on. You have not had anything to eat since early."

"We are hungry. There is so much we have to talk about. Let's go down stairs to the restaurant and catch a bite."

Sylvia took me by the hand and led out of the bedroom.

"But, But, But I can't go anywhere dressed like this!"

"It is a quite and private little restaurant" chimed Jane "not one would know or care

"You will be okay," said Sylvia, "just let me just touch you up with a tad of colour, put a band on that lovely long hair of yours, and pucker-up your blouse somewhat."

"No one would know the difference. You must eat. Come let's go"

I succumbed and stood mute as they buzzed on me, spraying, dabbing, liping, strapping and packing strange things under my blouse."

I looked at myself in the mirror. I was as fulsome as any of them and I was shocked at how I looked.

"We won't have a robust meal Pete, eat, just enough to keep you up-and-running."

With that we were down the elevator and walking towards the restaurant.

"I don't feel comfortable" I was hissing quietly to Sylvia at the very time an elderly gentleman winked then patted me on the bum.

"Ohhh" I exploded my head radiating with a megaton blush,. Sylvia guffawed and Jane whooped with laughter.

I blushed my trail to the table and it took the first course and the second wine before I could un-blush and join the merriment.

I shook my head in disbelief. What a difference a day makes; from being up to my ankles in Cows' slush, to a fulsome chest today.

Jane interrupted my thoughts:

"Pete could you permit me to reflect that dressed as you are, is perhaps a good thing, given all you have gone through!"

I looked mutely down at the breasts purported to be mine, I faced her sweet face, and my gaze I strayed to her breasts gently swelling against her blouse.

"You are an attractive woman," I heard myself say and immediately regretted and retracted this audacity.

Jane, smiled pulled her blouse open a tad, and went on:

"I understand Pete. Just relax. Bodies are meant to be looked at. Attraction is part of God's plan. You are programmed to look at me."

"However, Pete you have been savagely cleaved away from a life the male-female balance of life."

'You have been severed from the feminine balance of humanity."

"You have been pushed too far Pete and now, my fear is that you not be able to find your way back to a balance."

"It is my suggestion that wearing female clothes for a time might be the help you keep your psychic intact."

I heard her words which returned me to my pensive silence.:

"I understand Pete, that you had not actually seen a woman for the whole time I was in the monastery. Was it not an 'Enclosed' Monastery and even your mother was prevented from visiting with you. You were not allowed to attend your mother's funeral, nor that of your uncle. That was a tough severance Pete!"

"Can I further suggest, that the only reason you are out of the monastery today, was because Fr. Pershaft saw chance of acquiring your Uncle's wealth."

"Have women changed, or have I changed." I uttered,

"I have not seen such wonderful chests. All of you! Surely it was not like that ten years ago when I first joined up."

"I think I understand." chortled Sylvia. "I think that is what that elderly gentleman was saying when he patted you on the tail!"

"Yes, but mine are not real," I said

"Neither yours nor most of those you see" retorted Sylvia,

"Extraordinary advances in the science of 'bra-otology', engineered, to hoist, protrude and point and disturb the male half of the population!"

"Might I go further, Pete. I was saddened to see your discomfort when you looked at my breasts. Your eyes moved like a man's should, but your brow was hot, your knuckles white, and your hands perspiring. You have needed these clothes and the wine for your eyes to roam freely!"

"I did not feel besmirched! I was honored by your appreciative glances."

"I was not fearful. The fears were in your soul, I wondered if you were fearful of yourself. If you thought yourself to be dirty."

"I wondered Pete if your commitment to virginity had become an encasement that was smothering you, and separated you from womankind. That is tragic Pete. You were born of a woman, the male female dynamic is the genesis and can't be denied."

"Now Pete that you are wrapped in the female, you may encounter your tension and stop seeing women as the threat to decency."

"It is confusing. Mother kept saying my father my uncle wee dirty. All men are the same, they only want one thing. They are predators and they are dirty. She encouraged me to purity, to chastity, to rising above and beyond human things. It has been a shock to be confronted by you Sylvia and you Jane, bountifully blessed as with femininity. I am not impure and lustful, but I cannot live in a shroud."

"We have to break down those walls Peter, and the walls behind the walls. We have to let you out," said Jane as she reached forward, with a smile and stroked my 'purported' bosom.

I looked over and saw that Sylvia's eyes were brimming with tears, staring at me with care.

"You poor thing Pete Darling" she said "you aee so virginally pure and so sweet. Thee is nothing, nothing dirty about you. We will help you to become free."

"My you nice in those clothes Pete" said Jane. "There is nothing dirty about sex when it is a conduit for care. The map is confused by the Fr. Pershafts. You cannot bury you're your gifts and expect a yield. You have to risk when you reach out.

"You will be okay Pete," Said Jane.

"I am going to recommend that Sylvia should take you out each night: to hold your hand as you re-immerse in the world you have missed, and help you knit your soul."

"I will organize counseling, exercise beautician and adjustment therapy each morning to gentle you. I am absolutely confident we can help you find your place in this strange new world."

Again I was speechless and sat before them, my mouth moving, no words coming out.

"Let Jane steer for a while Pete. You will beach on the shoals. Give over to another's help." Said Sylvia

I looked at her, I had fear in my eyes, but I realized I had nothing to fear from these ladies.

My body was tingling all over; I was totally alive; I tried to say something, but nothing came out. I nodded my head; I knew I was out of my depth; and I knew I needed help.

Sylvia, stood up. She congratulated me.

"Again you have handled stress well sweetie. You show great courage. I know you are gong to make it."

"We have a few more hurdles to jump sweetie. We had better go back up to your new apartment."

Jane and Sylvia chatted away as we returned to the apartment. I did not feel like saying anything. So buried in my own thoughts, I hardly heard what they said.

I noticed that men were looking at me. I found them to be strange looks, the like of which I had never experienced before.

I began to tremble, I felt threatened, I walked closely behind Sylvia and Jane. I wanted to return to the security of my uncle's flat

I felt safe when Sylvia closed the apartment behind me,

"There is more to show Pete," said Jane

'I am so sorry it all has to be so quick. You have so much to catch up on."

"Come and look at the view, see the wonderful kitchen."

She showed me two of the spare bedrooms and then took the key form her pocket to open the third.

"Step gently Pete, this is a big one. I knew your uncle for years. He only showed me this room some months ago."

"He made me undertake to bring you here Pete."

"This was his special room, Pete. He set it aside for you, it is his monument to you.

She ushered me in and I was immediately confronted by the painting of a bountiful nude over the bed.

Her face riveted my attention. I did not stray to the breasts. It was so familiar, her eyes looking at me, demure and serene, locked on me. Enticing and haunting.

My mouth was dry and I was vaguely dizzy as my head went to the other wall with two paintings side by side.

One was that woman, the one over the bed, wearing the very same clothes as I was wearing. She had peaceful eyes, serenity, looking at me in an inviting kindly fashion.

The other, was me in my Benedictine habit, looking strained and anxious, bothered and bedraggled

My eyes rattled between the two paintings, and back to the nude.

"They are me. They are all of me!" I rasped from a very dry mouth.

I looked in the mirror, I saw the fear of the painting.

 

"What, what, what was he saying" I spluttered.

Sylvia put her arm around me, and rested my head on her shoulder. Jane put her arm around my waist.

"He looked into your heart. He loved you greatly. He knew you deeply. He wanted you to have peace.

My eyes traveled to the two photos behind the door, of my first communion day. I was serene is the white dress and veil. Beside, there was me in white shirt and shorts. In the dress I was radiant. In the shirt and shorts, I looked strangely anxious.

"Oh my God" I uttered.

"Do you know he wrote to you every week? He knew the letters would not get through, but he wanted to keep the contact coming.

"She marshaled your life to excise his memory. She kept you busy; she encouraged you to join the monastery when you were sixteen. He knew you were filled with a loathing for men and a fear for women.

He kept writing, his presents were always returned. They are await you in that cupboard, neatly stacked and each one dated dated. Awaiting you on this day."

"What was he saying to me Sylvia? What does it all mean?" I asked.

'He had an insight into your heart" said Jane.

"But you are going to have to think about it, and work it through. It is your insight that counts. We cannot help you work this out Pete. We can only support you."

"It must be very hard."

"I am sure the best thing you can do be gentle on yourself in the coming days, and weeks, until things became much clearer."

I felt I was swaying. I think we all need a drink Jane, said Sylvia.

"You do look nice Pete. But let me call up the therapist, so we can to work, softening you and releasing this strain and tension. It is all too much, but we have to keep moving Pete."

I drank the first and then my third drink and hardly remembered getting down to the therapist.

For the rest of the afternoon, I had lotions and emulations and emollients rubbed on, in, consumed and injected. My nostrils were filled with lovely lavender and the tension streaming out of me.

My hair was done, as were my nails and I was carefully fitted for soft and lovely underclothes.

She proffered to soften my chest with mounding to retain my blouse and fit a bra more comfortable than the puckering prosthesis.

Each morning Jane would allow me to talk, I would talk and cry. The stories would come out while the Beautician quietly nurtured and savor with gentling creams.

"Don't worry about the breast mounding of my breasts. As easily as they are given, they can be taken away. You must feel comfortable."

And I did feel comfortable, beautiful soft clothing, a gentle bobbing to distract me as each night Sylvia would marshal me from one eye opened to another. We had wonderful times, met wonderful people and I felt I was received with love and respect at all times.

The weeks flew and I gradually reclaimed my peace..

"I have a favor to ask you Pete," ventured Sylvia. "It is something your uncle asked me to do!"

"May take photos of you?"

"Yes of course."

"But Pete, he wanted you to pose, sitting, with your arm around your leg, and your head on your knee, naked like the photo over the bed."

"But, but I can't be naked before you Sylvia, Jane. You are women!"

"Come on dear. We are all the same. It would only be for a shutter or two.

I consented and the photos were taken.

"Pete," Jane said, as she flashed one photo after another on the computer.

"Have a look at your face. Have a look at yourself. I have inter spaced our photos with those of the paintings. What do you see?"

"Oh my God," I responded "I just like that woman. Look at me, so serene and peaceful, so fulsome and feminine."

"It is like he was looking into the future."

They grasped and hugged me, loving me for the way the photos showed my progress.

"You are very lovely" said Sylvia, as she held me in her arms and kissed me on the cheek.

"This time has served you well Pete," said Jane.

"You will need to take the next step now Pete."

"Let me ask you: Do you want to go back? Or do you want to remain as you are?"

"I cannot go back" I confessed to Jane.

"Your uncle always professed, that as a male, 'he took', but as a female, 'he gave'.

Are you ready to give and surrender and live and endow, Pete?"

"We follow through further tomorrow Pete."

"I am going to leave you now Pete, leave you with Sylvia who will help you work-through your Uncle's vision."

As she left, I stood there looking at Sylvia, uncertain, as what would follow.

"Can I get you a glass of wine Pete?"

"Yes pleeease do!"

She came back, bringing the wine, giving me a peck on the cheek and saying

"Allow me Pete, to open you to experiences that have come with the changes."

With that, she began to undo the top button of my blouse. Then the next and the next and the next.

I stood there and felt strangely pleased, as I was laid bare.

She then kissed me on the top of the breast, and reached around and undid my bra.

"Do you like this Pete" she asked as her hand moved round my breast and gently pulled on my nipples.

"Do you like this,"

"Yes Sylvia," I uttered as I drew heavily on my glass/

I felt a bit giddy from the extra glass I did not need, and was thankful to have Sylvia steadying arm around my waist.

She gave me a peck on the cheek.

"You are sweet Pete" she said, and reached down to kiss me on the lips. I responded to her affirmation, and I felt her hand covering my body.

"How does that feel Pete?"

"It is absolutely gorgeous, It is lovely, it buzzes me all over.

"Let me take you another step she said, as she slid down my undies and fondled my bottom, gently kissing me over the neck.

Ohhh that is so nice, I whispered

She kissed me again, and very softly, she whispered to me, asking me to bend over the sofa.

I did as she asked me and felt her rubbing lotion all around my bottom.

"This will hurt a tad at first Pete. But trust me, you will like it. It is the giving the Jane talked about. In giving you will be receiving and you will never be the same again.

It hurt horribly as she first pushed into to me.

"Just relax Pete. This is true feminine surrender. Your uncle asked me to take you this next step with you Pete."

"He helped me over the threshold. It is a step every girl remembers."

"I have longed for this moment ever since I first saw the paintings"

The gentle but persistent insertion continued, and it hurt all the way to the hilt.

"Oh it is such an honour Pete. I love being in you body."

"I am deeply within you now Pete. I am in all the way."

"Let us both relax a bit. Then I will gently work on you so I can bury my treasure in you."

"We have a lovely little journey to undertake Pete. It is wonderful to claim you, I have always longed for this moment."

"Now take this Pete" with that she thumped into my bottom, withdrew and thumped again; Skin against skin, at thumping slap.

"This is your moment Pete. Take this Pete."

With that she thumped again, and again like a train piston gathering speed slap, slap, slap, I was pulverized and gasping for breath. She kept smacking into me building up until she began to scream and I felt a whoosh of love juice spurting into me filling me up and dribbling down my legs

She lay back exhausted.

'Pete, he said you would be good. You are magnificent. You will give pleasure to so many. Thank you for walking with us. Thank you for joining us and becoming one of us. Your uncle would be so proud of you.

  

  

  

*********************************************
© 2004 by Peter Joseph. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.