Regina ducked inside without checking the name of the establishment on the awning above the double doors. The rain was sudden. One minute there was sun, hardly a cloud in the sky, and the next, a gust of wind, and before she knew it, her wimple was swept away in the torrent.

She hated that she’d forgotten her luggage at the convent, that she’d left her “just in case” umbrella propped against the wall right next to the door. She’d been in such a hurry to leave. Her temporary vows were up, and she had been all too eager to tell Mother Joan to go fuck herself.

She stood in the dim foyer shivering as she waited for the storm to pass. Heavy rains like this only lasted a few minutes. She would be back on the road soon, though she really had nowhere to go. During her three years of dedicated service to the Lord, most of her fellow delinquents had moved on with their lives—some to their final resting place. She’d read from a newspaper dispenser at the gas station a block away that her college roommate, Heather, had died from a heroin overdose. Heather always did more than she could handle, but this time Regina wasn’t there to rein her in.

Regina’s habit was soaked through and had become like a second layer of skin. She plucked at the sleeve, and it retracted back to her arm, making a wet slapping sound. There was a laundromat on that same strip, a few businesses down, but she had no money, not even spare change. She had to deny herself so many of life’s pleasures while living at the convent. Rehabilitating back into the world would be a challenging feat.

The sound of boot heels striking the wood floor echoed behind her. She turned around, and her eyes fell on a petite blonde in a cowboy hat. The woman wore a hot pink push-up bra with the lace panties to match and leather cowboy chaps with the fringe running down the sides of her legs.

“Howdy! I’m assuming you’re here for the all-you-can-eat-buffet?”

She opened her mouth to explain that she had only come in to avoid the rain but froze when she looked past the half-naked cowgirl and saw the gyrating mechanical bull. A woman, brunette, in the same getup rode it seductively, sliding back and forth as it rose and dipped, her legs squeezing the sides. Three men surrounded her—one with his hands in his pants, the second held a wad of cash, and the third took singles from his stack and slipped them underneath the rider’s bra strap and inside other openings around her skimpy outfit.

“Oh. My. God.”

“I know. That’s how they get you. With that sign.” The cowgirl pointed out the window to the sign above the door blowing in the wind. “‘Free Lunch Buffet!’ They don’t mention it’s in a strip bar.”

She took Regina by the hand and pulled her further inside. There was a lit-up buffet bar in the center of the room, but no one was in line. Other than the three drooling men at the bull, there was only one other patron. In the back corner, he sported a handlebar mustache, slouched in his seat, and stretched his arms across the back of the booth as a bare-chested girl who barely looked of age bent over in front of him.

“I can’t stay here,” Regina said.

“Oh, don’t be so prude. I bet you’ll love the salad bar.” She scanned Regina’s curvy figure, the drenched habit having transformed into a form-fitting cat suit. “But some of the guys might think you’re part of the show with that nun outfit on. I would say take it off but—” She grinned suggestively, nodding over her shoulder to the pole that extended down from the ceiling and onto a platform behind her.

With all her strength, Regina snatched herself away and dashed for the door.

Outside, she lifted her head to the sky and sighed as the cool rain pelted her face. “I’d rather be soaking wet,” she said, then rolled her eyes at the unintended pun.

Wrapped around a light post a few feet away was her wimple. She seized it before another gust of wind could steal it away for good, then pulled it over her head and began the arduous trek back to the convent.

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference,” she prayed quietly, crossing herself.

She wasn’t looking forward to the smug smirk on Mother Joan’s face to see her return so quickly, but she couldn’t ignore the sudden urge to be closer to God.

© 2017-2024 Nortina Simmons

Originally published May 9, 2017, for StoryADay.