Subtitle: Eve Goodheart’s, Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad, Most Extremely Difficult First Day
Copyright under pen name Anais Rim. Critical feedback thankfully appreciated. Approx 7500 words.
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Once, not long ago, poor Eve Goodheart had been a sad little orphan girl. Raised in an institution much too overwhelmed by a mass of needy children to recognize her special qualities, she had been surrounded by mean spirited and depraved ragamuffins. These harsh rascals pushed and shoved and wrestled her violently about for but mere crusts of bread. The girl regularly went to bed hungry.
But Eve had one spectacular advantage. Something everyone there envied, even the adults. For Eve had been a very pretty little girl who grew up to be a remarkably beautiful young woman. And though demure and humble, as the onset of puberty brought transformation, she became well aware of the effect that good appearance had on those around her.
As those awkward teenage years wore on, Eve’s beauty only blossomed further. She had milky smooth skin that avoided youthful blemishing, a small button nose perfectly centered on a round gentle face, and high ladylike cheekbones. When her full lips turned upward, a ravishing smile seemed to brighten a room like sunlight through a window. Her soft, shoulder length, chestnut colored hair waved but did not curl. Her teeth were remarkably straight given the lack of orthodontic care allotted to orphan children. About the only criticism one could make was an unremitting skinniness and small stature caused by continual childhood malnourishment.
But prettiness wasn’t Eve’s only virtuous attribute. Whilst growing up she had often fantasized of being Jane Eyre; a strong, self-possessed little girl on the inside, who in that story survived hardship and want by strength of character and determination. Thus, by inculcating the fictional Ms. Eyre as her role model, Eve studied dutifully, acted morally, and was rarely scolded or punished for childish misbehavior. And as she entered young adulthood, Eve became resolute in remaining chaste, marrying a good man and raising a proper family. And in this modern age, she was determined to do all that while achieving principled and professional success. Just like Jane Eyre did.
Still, while a charge of the orphanage, Eve had never experienced life outside that institution. For as long as she could remember her childhood had been continuous misery and endless deprivation. So when emancipation finally came, whilst marginally high school educated and taught basic vocational skills such as cooking and typing, and although somewhat familiar with the use of a computer, nevertheless, the girl was wholly unprepared for the rigors of freedom. Few eighteen year olds are.
Out on the streets and free of her old orphanage, it was a tough start to adulthood. Above all Eve needed money and yet knew nobody. Of course, there were unladylike opportunities for a corrupted girl. But such things the girl refused to consider. The girl had pride. She wanted a proper job.
Yet Eve wasn’t quite ready to enter the workforce. Her clothes were old and tattered and her typing skills not quite up to professional standards. Goodwill helped with serviceable attire and she was a fast learner, eager to work. What she needed was a lucky break. When she applied at Mulhanney Temporary Services Company looking for an administrative position, fortune blessed her at the right time.
Pamela Smart, recruiter and placement agent at the company, saw something worthy in Eve and decided to give the girl a chance. Pam wasn’t merely smart because her last name said so. The recruiter had made a good choice. In but a few short months Eve proved herself worthy. She’d successfully completed several temporary jobs with fine performance reviews. And, in the process, Eve learned crucial business skills in promptness, conscientiousness, and diligence. Her typing and computer skills also developed.
By the seventh month employed, Eve’s situation had improved. She’d rented a small flat. Her wardrobe, though simple, was serviceable and professional. But, above all, by then she was consistently eating better than anything she’d consumed before. With malnourishment waning, by then Eve was standing on her own two feet. It was time to procure a permanent position for much needed long term stability.
That had already almost happened. At the last job, Eve replaced a receptionist on maternity leave at an insurance agency. It had gone well. There, Eve worked harder than ever in the hope the company would offer a job full time. And it appeared as though the woman on leave might not return.
At the time indications seemed good. Eve’s supervisor at the firm regularly reported good performance to Pam. But one day that woman on leave arrived, pushing her beautiful baby in pram through the office, and everyone there cheered. Who could blame them? Soon, Eve was sadly told there would be no position available. It wasn’t her fault, they’d said. She’d done a perfectly good job. Her supervisor there would be happy to provide a recommendation.
Of course, the Mulhanney company had turned a healthy profit on Eve’s hard work. Pam had no trouble returning her to the queue for upcoming temp jobs. Everyone was pleased but Eve. After she was let go, the girl sat at home with nothing to do, waiting to be contacted for a new placement.
Friday afternoon, she received a phone call. Pam informed Eve of a new prospect. But, the placement agent warned, it would be a tough assignment. The last girl had left after just one day complaining about the job site. But, fortunately, it paid well. And, if they like you, she’d added, they might even offer a permanent position. It was a grand opportunity Eve shouldn’t refuse.
“So would you,” Pam asked tentatively, “consider working at Saint Vincent’s Sisters of Boundless Mercy Sanatorium for Proper Mental Hygiene?” There was a long pause while Eve considered. Pam tried to break the tension. “Whew, that was a mouthful,” she added, nervously giggling.
An insane asylum? Eve wasn’t sure. Still, at least it’s a job. So, after careful thought, she accepted. Pam was pleased. It seemed she’d had some difficulty finding interested applicants.
Eve was informed she’d be due first thing Monday morning, to please dress formally and expect filing and typing at first. They would train additional duties as warranted. Then the placement agent provided a contact and address.
Over those months the girl had accumulated a bit of savings. That weekend she went shopping. Eve bought a new knee length skirt, a black blazer, a white button down blouse, and sensible black pumps. Splurging a bit, she added a tastefully small purse. The girl wanted to look professional and really land this job, a first permanent position and career starter.
Monday morning Eve woke early, got ready quickly, and hopped a bus nervous and expectant and hopeful. As Eve approached the worksite, she looked out the window to see a massive gothic building approaching. With a squint, she scrutinized the looming façade.
It was a monstrosity of brick and stone. Lichen covered gargoyles leered down off walls. At each corner there was a lean tower, their spiked spires pointing skyward. A black wrought iron fence enclosed the grounds with guard booths blocking the lone circular driveway to the building’s entrance and exit. For pedestrians, a small brick opening by the side had an automatic gate controlled by intercom.
It looked more like a prison than place of medicine. But then, Eve realized, this was no normal hospital. These gates weren’t meant to keep her out, but to keep dangerous lunatics in. Unease in the pit of her belly left her wondering if accepting this job had been a good idea.
In the pedestrian entrance, a security camera peered downward at the girl as she pressed the intercom buzzer. There was no response but a click at the gate of an automated lock. Tentatively pushing it open, she cautiously stepped into the grounds.
A slim and fierce old woman strode out of the building and marched toward her with unexpected vigor. She was conservatively dressed in an old school way. Not office attire, she wore a drab gray wool skirt to her ankles, black clogs, a blue blouse buttoned to her neck and a faded long tail sweater draped around her like a shawl. A black headcovering billowed in the breeze. Horned rim granny glasses completed the image.
Ravines of worry wrinkled the woman’s forehead. Age crisscrossed her cheeks except where laugh lines should have formed. As she approached, her steel gray eyes pierced into Eve’s and the woman’s mouth tightened in grim determination. She seemed a very serious person.
“Hello,” the woman said, holding out her hand. “I’m Mother Mary O’Malley, the Director of this institute. You must be Eve.”
Eve nodded, smiled curtly, and offered her hand. The woman had a firm and powerful grip that almost crushed, but she let go after a properly short time. It occurred to Eve that even though she wasn’t dressed in a habit, the woman had to have been a nun.
“Please come with me,” Mother O’Malley said.
With a quick turn, the nun started toward the building. Her steps rang across the cobblestone driveway fast and with furious purpose. Eve was brought to the main entrance where the old woman used a security card to unlock the door. Following her through, the girl didn’t say a word. In the main hallway, a portly middle-aged guard stopped them.
“Mother Mercy,” he said. “Telephone. Seems urgent.”
“Thank you, Fredrick.”
The nun stepped up to the counter and the guard handed a telephone over. Mother O’Malley spoke quickly and with authority. Eve stood patiently waiting.
In the guard station, a row of black and white telly screens presented scenes from around the institute’s grounds. The guard ignored them, casually leafing through a sports magazine. As he turned a page, Eve caught a glimpse of a naughty publication hidden underneath. Noticing the girl had seen, he quickly covered the contraband, let out a cough, and pretended to ignore her. Mother O’Malley finished and handed the phone back. “And how is your family?” She questioned the guard.
“Right nice of you to ask!” He said smiling and nonchalantly squared the magazine over those dirty pictures on his desk. “Margaret is fine, sends her regards. Little Dotty’s wrist is on mend. Girl won’t be playing up no trees no more I guess. And Chad. Well, the boy has taken to Rugby. Tackled Sam Doherty’s oldest last week, broke the boy’s ankle good.” The guard seemed proud of his son’s violent achievement.
“Oh dear,” the nun said.
“Don’t rightly know what a small boy like that was doing playing Rugby. Sam should know better. Boy’s off the team now, but he’ll recover. Kids bend more’n they break.”
“Indeed,” the nun replied. “I’ll say hello to Margaret on Sunday.”
“She’d like that.”
Small talk with the guard over, Mother O’Malley rushed away on a dime. Taken by surprise, Eve had to sprint to catch up. The nun took an unexpected turn left down a side hallway and they snaked through a maze of winding corridors until an office finally presented itself with the nun’s name stenciled on the door. She led Eve in and directed the girl to a chair in front of her desk. Then the woman went round, sat down, and leaned back relaxed and in command.
“Now,” Mother O’Malley started, clasping fingers together, “You must understand that this can be a difficult place to work.”
Eve nodded.
“There are dangerous men here,” the nun explained. “Some will seem perfectly sane. But never, I mean not ever, let one come too close or spend time alone with you.”
Eve was the kind of girl mindful of propriety and maintaining a good reputation. She understood exactly what the woman had implied.
“We have orderlies and guards to handle violent situations,” Mother O’Malley continued. “Let them do their jobs. If one comes rushing, let him pass.”
“Of course, Ma’am.”
“And,” she paused, “some of your colleagues might be pushy. Intrusive even. Just be aware because this is a church institution and we frown on fraternization amongst employees.”
“I… uh,” Eve said, hesitating. “I understand.”
“Do you have any questions?”
Eve thought carefully. There was one trifle lingering matter, but she wasn’t sure if asking was appropriate. Why did people call the nun Mother Mercy? Uncertainty flashed across her face.
“Speak up, dear,” Mother O’Malley insisted, “there are no stupid questions just many wrong answers.”
“No questions, Ma’am,” Eve said, biting her tongue.
Mother O’Malley tipped her head and considered Eve carefully. An uncomfortable silence permeated the room until broken by the old woman’s curt nod. “Then I guess we’ll start you somewhere easy. How does Geriatric Care sound?”
Eve agreed without knowing the meaning of geriatric, but she didn’t tell that to Mother O’Malley. The nun abruptly stood and led Eve out the office and down several corridors to an open area where a desk faced the room. A telephone and computer was there. Behind, a glass wall separated the open area from space with shelving from floor to ceiling. Color-coded files were lined in the sills.
The director explained the institute’s filing system, told Eve how to answer the phone, and said she’d contact IT to have someone set up her computer.
“And beware those nerds,” Mother O’Malley warned. “Weirdoes all. I’d fire every last one of ‘em if they weren’t so darned necessary.”
“Yes Ma’am.”
Like a force of nature, the nun left in a whirlwind.
There was a large stack of disorganized files on the desk and Eve decided to arrange them in alphabetical and color-coded order before filing. It wouldn’t do to run back and forth all over the room for each one. As she was working a large black orderly dressed in white pushed a wheelchair with a doddering old man by her desk.
“You the new girl?” The orderly asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m Tyrone Sampson,” he replied. “Nice to meet you.” He held out a hand. “But everyone round here just call me Sampson.”
Eve stood up and reached across the desk to shake his hand.
“Nice teats,” the old man said. “Right perky, considering they’re rather small bristols.”
“You be nice,” Sampson told his charge. He didn’t let go of her hand. “This place just go nuts without no secretary answering phones nor filing this an that,” he added, still holding her hand. “Everything be all confused and such.”
“Yes,” Eve replied, trying to yank her hand free.
“Smashing looks though,” the old man interjected. “I wonder what her cunt is like.”
“Man, you on thin ice,” Sampson growled.
“I believe I can smell it from here,” he continued.
[Continued from here FREE at Smashwords]
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/25xq7u/mother_mary_omalley_of_saint_fitzgeralds_sisters
Note: [XPosted from /r/bdsmerotica](http://www.reddit.com/r/BDSMerotica/comments/25xhpk/mother_mary_omalley_of_saint_fitzgeralds_sisters/).