The Book of Shadows by James Reese Read Free Book Online Page B

mass, unmaking her bed…. The games we played in the room had been fun enough for me, and indeed they still were—just being in Peronette’s presence was enough for me—but it was the danger of detection that thrilled Peronette. Consequently, she grew ever more bold. I waited, worriedly, for what was next…. And then, that day, as we lay across Mother Marie’s bed, sated, smoking, giddy from an imagined excess of liquor, listless in the late-day heat, attendant upon the rain, Peronette had an idea.
    â€œGet up,” said she. “Quickly.”
    I jumped to my feet. “What is it? Is someone coming?” I ran about the room fanning away the telltale cloud of blue smoke, throwing back the last of the wine in our glasses…. But I stopped when I saw that Peronette was taking off her clothes.
    Her back was toward me. I watched in absolute wonderment. My jaw was slack; so too were my arms at my sides. I had never seen anyone naked before. Never . All those years of avoiding the crowded washroom and bathing in the night-stilled kitchen, or in the pantry proper. It was then, at that very moment, that I realized I did not know what a woman looked like. I knew even less of men, of course. And there before me stood a beautiful near-naked woman, for Peronette was no longer a girl.
    She stripped down to nothing; she let her simple day uniform fall at her feet and stepped from the gray puddle of wool and tulle. She giggled, amused by whatever idea she had, but she did not speak. I stood staring as she moved to the huge armoire.
    â€œIs the rain falling yet?” Peronette asked. “Look and see. Go! ” I did not turn from her; I could not. Instead, I looked her over top to toe. It’s a wonder I remained upright. I said, “Yes. It is.” It might have been raining holy water and hosts, the pope might have been dancing with the Devil in the garden, I had no idea what the weather was.
    Peronette ran to the window. Clearly, her plan, whatever it was, hinged on the weather. “Splendid,” said she. “It’s falling fast now.” I watched as she leaned over the casement. I saw her small conical breasts; I marveled at their rosy tips. I drank in the smooth and supple curves that spread down the entire length of her body, from her beautiful brow to her delicate instep.
    â€œWhat is it?” I managed, my heart skipping like a stone thrown across a still and shallow pond. “What will you do?”
    â€œJust a little fun,” said Peronette, tripping lightly across the room. The armoire to which she returned was so large she could have crawled inside it. Instead, she bent at the waist and riffled through its store. Muffled, her voice came back to me: “This will be great fun. Get ready. And watch the rain.”
    â€œI am,” I said. “I will…. But what for?”
    Peronette did not respond. I watched as she bent deeper into the armoire. I stood directly behind her. I grew weak, physically weak; I sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. I was still behind Peronette, but now I saw her from a lower angle, an even more revealing angle. I learned then what I had always, somehow, known: I was different. For as I looked at the naked woman before me, as she bent over, distracted by her plan and the contents of the armoire, I saw the wide curves of her hips, her weighty, shapely buttocks, and…and the darkly furred cleft of her sex, there, there, and nestled within the darkness I saw the easy folds of her lips.
    But I…I am different. I don’t look…My …I could not think. It was as though the breath had been sucked from my lungs. I began to cry. Tears of confusion. Tears for the kernel of knowledge ripening, ever faster, at the core of that confusion.
    And then Peronette turned around to face me. I could not look at her: I was afraid. She held up a dress, not from modesty but rather as an introduction to her plan. “What do you