Catholic Schools Office. “This is going to be Exciting!” Sister Cabrini says with mega-wattage goodness that can make Hello Kitty appearance as a Visigoth–energizing the anarchist neurons in my sixteen-year old brain.

In her front-row seat, Mary Alice Margaret stops polishing her rosary beads and shoots up her hand. “Ooo, Ooo, Sister! When Helene fingers her pearls along at the neck of her French-blue uniform and whispers “F-Wad Toady” my laughter explodes like Krakatoa. “Praise Jesus we have a volunteer!’ Sister exclaims. “Alright my quite maids march ye towards the foyer in the row.”
St. Elizabeth’s Women Priory sits atop a hundred acre verdant hill, the impenetrable brick fortress of our fully hot virginity thrown up against the sky such as come-hither sigh. A winding snake of side road slithers up for the entrance like boys sneaking a peek under your skirt.
The foyer can be a cavernous white marble meat-locker. In the back is usually a floating grand double staircase in front of your three story glass wall over-looking a lushly terraced rose garden, a not so nuanced architectural leitmotif for marching up to Heaven’s Gate. But for now, Sister Cabrini has unwittingly set the stage for Women Gone Wild results art.

Catholic Boarding Schools. She pauses in the base in the staircase, young, beautiful, slim, vibrantly alive, with the pure white hands to a corpse, waiting for your record player that I roll out of the AV closet and plug-in. Sister floats over to it in head-to-toe black habit, and selects exercise new music.
“Girls. Women! Young ladies!” Sister says in her correctly modulated voice. She waits one more moment for quiet, and then claps her hands, “Alright, Enchanted Flowers of our Existence, pipe straight down.” Up coming Friday night could be the Father-Daughter Dance, our fathers will wait within the foyer with corsages. Daughters will likely be around the 2nd floor. As our name is labeled we’re to descend with impeccable posture, our hands folded waist big, and our chins and eye up like some proud but wistful Jane Austin heroine scouring the horizon for our subsequent excellent deed. Many of us are going to be test-driving our initial pair of higher heels straight down these two long flights of slippery marble stairs, which Sister insists we navigate down the center and not having searching lower. Sister sends me up the stairs, and so support me, starts off the audio, “These Foolish Issues Remind Me of You,” I appear finished the balcony at Helene who is micro-millimeters away from splitting internal organs.

“Alright Suzanne, dear. Head up. Eye up. Lets see those people lovely blue eye. Hands folded like a Virgin Saint. Alright, pause there dear on the top though I restart the songs.” “You know women, Suzanne signifies “Lily” and does not she appearance just like a graceful, fragrant Casablanca Lily.”
Helene is doubled-over and poised to blow as a Yellowstone geyser.
Sister Cabrini is setting the needle within the document when the priory secretary arrives out and whispers to her, “Alright Suzanne, you go ahead and demonstrate until I get back again.” The songs begins.

Catholic School Jobs. Crossing slowly from a single facet in the staircase for the other. Grabbing the stair rail seductively, posing, and shimmying at distinct parts for the music. Getting as salacious being a woman inside a Catholic college uniform can be. Lick my finger, touch it to my bottom and make a sizzling sound.
Oh yeah, they’re laughing now. Helene’s biting her lip off. Who doesn’t as a flash of white cotton panties? It is Stratospheric Hilarity and Sister Cabrini is out like a shot hunting culprits and having names. I believe the Lily pose and stand innocently waiting for Helene being pressed into practicing the waltz with Sister, who suddenly looks past me up the stairs, “Brother Bernard, do you already know who started off this?” Mary Alice Margaret’s hand pops up, “Ooo, Ooo, Sister, it was Suzanne and Helene. Into the office. Helene mimics a large pitched whine, “Ooo, Ooo, Sister, it absolutely was Suzanne and Helene as common.”