She did have a different name once. Or at least she thinks she did. her thoughts were hazy concerning her other life. Here she was living a life of devotion and purity. Far removed from her previous incarnation as a servant of Mammon, working for the almighty dollar, a slave to her job, the company and her career. Then she was Eve Deville, a high flying top executive with a multinational Bank. A high priestess of finance. ...
It was a beautiful sunny but cold day when Sister Livvy decided to go for a walk during her lunch hour. As it was such a bright day, the thin Northern light doing it’s best to lighten the spirits of the city, Sister Livvy had felt that a life affirming walk was in order rather than spend her lunch time in the shop. Besides, honourary Sisters, Annie and Angelina could look after the shop. They were just employees, full time admittedly, but not inducted fully into the erotic world inhabited by Sister Lacivious of the Salacious Passions. She was just walking, she didn’t know and didn’t care where. Her mind was wandering, lost in thought, sailing the sea of dreams. She thought of all the people that worked in the shop full time and part time, all such lovely people and so dedicated to the calling or perhaps it was the good rates of pay and the excellent conditions. Whatever it was she loved being in her element, latex and all the other good things that went with that. ...
Sister Livvy was up with the Lark, bright and early. She lifted her head from the latex pillow and then threw off the latex sheet from the Iron framed bed. Fastening the latex robe around her fit, lithe body she strolled into the large modern kitchen and made herself some breakfast. She drank her ‘breakfast’ tea and munched on toast and marmalade thinking about what she wanted to wear in the shop today. ...
“We’re coming up to a fine example of a Victorian Church. There has been a church on this site since the Norman period. Now, it has been deconsecrated.” Said the guide knowingly. “Aw shucks. How could it not be a church anymore. Don’t they love their churches? Can we go look at it? It looks occupied.” Shouted Joe Maguire. “Pipe down honey,” Marsha Maguire whispered to her husband. “Not another church,” Clarice said, turning her eyes to the ceiling, as she muttered to her brother Mikey. ...