Extreme Addiction (The Sexy Series #2)

Other Books by Kate Edwards

Perfect Temptation

Extreme Addiction

Eternal Seduction

Extreme Addiction

Published by Kate Edwards

Copyright © 2013 by Kate Edwards

All rights reserved.

Cover design by Leilani Bennett at:

[email protected]

Ebook Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. All rights reserved.

Extreme Addiction

Chapter One

I
joined my mother outside a coffee shop which had suddenly become the popular hangout spot in our town because it was used in a nationally televised commercial for a humorous Super Bowl car ad featuring a talking baby and a hip, fast-talking Jesus.

“
I think the baby sat right here,” my mother declared, hovering over one of the coffee shop’s varnished reed chairs. “And Jesus sat where you are when he said even he won’t forgive the competition—is it considered blasphemous that I laughed at the commercial?”

“
Its okay mom,” I said, with a doting smile. “The commercial was funny. The world is changing, and as long as you keep your faith and live your life by the tenants of our Lord and savior, it’s okay to laugh at ourselves every now and then.”

I sat down and placed my cafe mocha on the iron threaded table. Mother followed suit and smiled behind her large, bug-like sunglasses.

As the morning sun splashed her weathered face, I noticed she had applied some makeup for the first time in years. Just this past weekend we talked on the phone and she told me she was dating again. I sensed happiness in her for the first time in a long time, as she couldn’t stop talking about Hank, who was the only single deacon in our parish.

“
Did I tell you Hank has ten years of frozen meat stocked in his commercial grade freezer down in his basement?” she told me, with morbid excitement.

“
Yeah, you told me already,” I said, as I squinted at the morning glare. “Why do you keep bringing that up?”

“
Hank thinks the end of the world will come during our lifetime. I love that he is prepared. He sent me a post on my Facebook about how if we reelect the president, the mark of the beast will be fulfilled and the end times will begin.”

On one hand, I was happy mother was finally getting out of the house, on the other, I was afraid that the first man to have influence over her since my late father was in desperate need of some counseling, and of the serious kind, you know the type of help that could be found outside a church group, which might require medication.

“Mother, we are Catholics, not end-timers,” I reprimanded. “The Book of Revelation is mainly symbolic. Remember what Father Mike said, John was under heavy duress when he wrote it.”

Mother sat back in her chair while grabbing her coffee. She took a small sip from her cup. Her hand had a slight tremble to it. “You’re right, Jessie. Why should I question anyone who has fully given herself to the Lord,” she said, as she reached over for my hand on the table. “I am so proud of you.”

“Thanks mom, I’ve given up a lot so I can understand the word of God clearly.”

“
You look so beautiful in your habit,” she said.

“
Really? I thought it made me look a little older than I am.”

“
How is the convent treating you?”

“
I won’t lie, it’s been kinda tough. I’m only twenty and its very hard seeing everyone my age on TV having a blast. I don’t regret my decision, it’s just rough, you know?”

Mother leaned over the table and gripped my hand tighter this time. “I know you feel this is what your father wanted from you. But you must ask yourself if this is what you really want?”

I looked into my mother’s eyes, or at least her sunglasses, where a young girl’s face, with indecisive green eyes, reflected off the dark plastic lenses. I feigned confidence when I said, “Of course this is what I wanted.”

Mother didn’t smile. Instead, she placed her sunglasses on the table and gave me a pair of lonely eyes. I had the feeling she wanted to have me around again, but didn’t quite know how to ask me.

“I’m leaving Friday,” I said.

“
You are? But you said you would lead our prayer group Saturday after lunch at Don Miguel’s.”

“
I know mother, but I need to get out of the convent. I’ve decided to join Sister Janice and help out in Zaire for a month or so. I was surprised she invited me to help with our mission, especially since I’m new and all.”

“
Zaire? Is that out in New Mexico?”

“
Africa.”

Mother almost did a spit-take after committing to a large sip of her coffee. “Africa? That place is dangerous, please change your mind.”

“Africa is a large place, Zaire is one of the good countries. The church has had an established presence outside Kinshasa for many years now and they want me to come with the sisters to teach the children about U.S. Culture.”

Mother leaned back in her chair, pursing her lips. “You couldn’t pick the inner city or something; you know, somewhere just as dangerous but a little bit closer?”

“Mom, please stop saying it’s dangerous. It’s really beautiful from what I hear.”

She stood up from her chair and came over to me and stretched out her stubby little arms. “Come here.”

I stood up and quickly embraced her.

“
I’m sorry for being distant these past few years,” she said softly into my ear. “I was devastated over your father.”

I rested my head on mother’s left shoulder and felt my eyes beginning to well up. This was the most emotional I had seen her since my father’s funeral.

“It’s okay, we all cope with loss differently,” I said.

Mother pulled away but still held firm onto my arms. She quickly wiped the tears away from her eyes. “Be safe, you hear me?”

“I will, I promise.”

“
You don’t have to do this whole nun thing, if you don’t want to, you know?” she sniffled.

I stared softly into her eyes. I had a feeling she read my subconscious. I sensed that she saw the weakness inside me. A young primal female that would rather roam free instead of being locked in by guilt. But I made the choice to serve God. I wasn’t a quitter and I felt that my good deeds would eventually put me a lot closer to the pinnacle of spirituality rather than the depths induced by the vices of humanity. Africa seemed like a good place to serve the less fortunate without being constantly tempted and surrounded by American decadence.

Chapter Two

The single engine Cessna descended from the fluffy clouds and began circling the tree lined airfield below. I saw macaques scattering into the rainforest that surrounded the mud-puddled landing strip, which precariously seemed to stretch the length of three football fields. Sister Janice’s shoulders touched against mine as we sat scrunched in the plane’s small cabin. She quickly gestured the sign of the cross and began muttering the Lord’s Prayer underneath her breath while keeping her eyes tightly closed.

My ashy hand grabbed onto her right shoulder and I spoke loudly into her ear over the Cessna’s purring engine. “Sister, look out the window, you can see Kilimanjaro.”

“I will not look out the window until I feel the plane land on the ground,” proclaimed Sister Janice, as she placed her head on her lap, while clutching her rosary.

Mitch, our pilot, a handsome Brit in his mid thirties, wearing blue blockers and just a tee shirt which tightly hugged his chiseled upper frame, spoke up after overhearing our conversation, “Sister, I’ve landed here plenty of times. In fact, last time I landed here there were 50 mile per hour gusts. It’s a beautiful day today, nothing to worry about.”

Mitch gripped the scraped joystick and veered the plane on its final turn before lining it perfectly over the airfield on its final descent. Even though there weren’t strong gusts as Mitch had indicated, the small winds still managed to rock the small plane in a hypnotic and puke-inducing motion.

“
Hail Mary full of grace...” Sister Janice began reciting, smothering the beads of her rosary which glistened with sweat.

I began giggling softly as I watched Sister Janice acting as if the grim reaper was about to turn our small plane into a smoldering wreckage. Mitch stared back at me and gave me a sly wink as he held the joystick with a professional steadiness. The muscles in his forearm twitching with the sense memory of an aerial savant.

As the plane hovered 25 feet off the ground it tilted left and for a split second it looked like the left wing was going to touch the airfield before he could even square the landing gear perpendicular to the ground. With a sudden jerk of the joystick, Mitch managed to right the plane. We suddenly felt a strong bump, followed by another. The single engine Cessna sputtered to a halt. I looked over at Sister Janice and she had her head in her lap and didn’t look up until I nudged her with my elbow. “Did we crash?” she asked, looking around the cabin like a startled little girl.

“
Welcome to Zaire, sister,” exclaimed Mitch.

Sister Janice let out a relieved cackle and looked to the ceiling of the cabin. “Thank you Jesus.”

Mitch opened the little door at the front of the cabin and pulled his seat forward so Sister Janice and I could get out. A small gathering of people began to emerge and walk toward us out of the heat waves that rose in the distance at the edge of the landing strip. As soon as we stepped from the plane, I instantly felt the heat and humidity press against my face, chest and legs.

“
Here you go, sisters,” said Mitch, as he handed us our bags from the small storage compartment underneath the Cessna. I smiled at him as he gave me another wink. Mitch’s half smile and quick draw of his eyes let me know he probably found me attractive but respected who I was. I bucked the trend of old nuns with brown stockings and wrinkly double chins, and I was a welcomed relief to a man who spent most of his time in the skies above the dark continent.

“
Hello,
mes amis
,” bellowed a booming voice with a French accent, right behind us as we grabbed our bags. “I hope Mitch’s flying didn’t hurt your tummies.”

Mitch gave Father Anton, a somewhat hefty man with a gray goatee, curly long hair, and a cheery disposition, a friendly pat on his back. Father Anton wore the thinnest linen shirt and matching linen pants. It would’ve been delirious on his part if he elected to sport the typical black clerical clothing we were accustomed to seeing on priests in the sweltering mid-afternoon heat.

“Hello, my name is Carmen,” said the other sister alongside Father Anton, as she reached over to shake my hand. She was a gray haired lady in her sixties, who had a firm demeanor.

“
Jessie, Sister Carmen has been our main liaison in Africa since 2002,” explained Sister Janice. She turned to Sister Carmen. “Sister, Jessie here is the newest member of our convent. She will do a wonderful job, I believe, of getting the message across to the youth in our mission that exuberance and modernity does not have to be compromised to follow Christ’s message.”

“
That is wonderful,” proclaimed Father Anton. “I think your youth and energy will do wonders for our mission here in Zaire,” he grinned.

“
Well, friends,” interjected Mitch. “I must leave and go back to Kinshasa. I will see you at the end of the month with the scheduled supplies. I’ll also be picking you both back up.” Mitch nodded and hopped back into his plane, closed the small door and turned on the Cessna. The propeller sputtered to a start and the engine murmured like a toy. Mitch looked through the window and made a small salute with two of his fingers before building momentum for his ascent. As Mitch’s plane began to speed down the runway, we heard the unmistakable shrill cheers of children emanating from the path that was carved into the jungle across the runway.