Big Ass Aunty Rides At Her Son’s Friend

Yeah, it’s just a wig. Then she surprised me by handing me a package as well. I unwrapped the present and almost cried. It was a turban wrap like we’d seen many women wearing in Europe. It’s a beautiful dark blue with silver piping. If I wanted to, I could probably wear it out without wearing a wig. We haven’t talked much about it but Angel figured out that when I dressed as a bald man, I was really bald.“I don’t know about you,” she said, “but a lot of times I don’t want to bother getting my hair all fixed just to go out for coffee. These turbans are so stylish and no one can tell if you’ve washed your hair and spent an hour drying it or if you just shaved it all off.”“Thank you, Angel,” I said.“Hey,” she answered, “we blondes gotta stick together.”I stopped at Duty Free to pick up a gift for Cinnamon. Simple. I don’t want her to get any inappropriate ideas. I don’t think. Text from Jordan said, “Good work. I’ll meet you at the airport.” Hmm. Maybe I should get him a gift, too.I. L'mael finished the last of her own personal prayers to the eternal champion of man. It proved a difficult task indeed, to rise to her feet from her kneeling supplication. If it was His Will, that she should leave his place of worship on hands and knees, then she would have done so. It was a small price to pay for the chance to continue to serve him. L'mael staggered upright, her vision swimming, the undigested sandwich an unsettled ball in her stomach. For a brief, horrifying moment, she thought the contents of her stomach might rise in this most hallowed of places, the mere thought of such an obscene sacrilege, settled her turbulent gut.Genuflecting, she turned and headed back up the aisle and discovered that she had not been alone. Sitting at one of the back pews, hidden in the darkness, was another Sister, also clad in blood stained battledress.The Sister made no sound, but was trembling from bowed head to foot. L'mael had not heard her enter, but she could already have been.
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