The Forsaken - The Apocalypse Trilogy: Book Two by G. Wells Taylor Page A

and started kissing her the moment she entered. A
passionate exchange brought them back to the Mormon’s apartment and
they had been making love for an hour. Cawood was distracted all
right. The physical tastes and sensations pressed in on her. She
dove so deep into her lust that she almost snarled when Juanita
stopped her.
    “Hey!” Juanita blurted, closing her thighs
over the sister’s neck. “Let me catch my breath.”
    Cawood looked up, her vision foggy; then she
smiled. Straining, crawling upward, she pressed Juanita’s lips and
their tongues met. They rolled over the bed, giggling in a pink
embrace.
    “You aren’t feeling guilty are you?” Juanita
said, still sporting the traces of a Spanish accent. She rolled a
fingertip around the sister’s hard and rubbery nipple.
    “No. Never—anymore.” Cawood lied. “I’m
sorry—I got caught up. You’re so beautiful.” Her hands slid over
the Mormon’s full hips—dallied a second between her legs. A wave of
passion rolled over them. “It’s Able, he came in with another crazy
scheme.”
    A hot emotion flitted behind Juanita’s eyes.
“What now? He wants to put on an addition?” They both laughed.
Building the Tower had consumed the lives of everyone involved. “A
carport?”
    “No,” she giggled. “Able loves the tower.”
Cawood’s mind rolled over the notion. “So do I. It’s not that.” The
sister remembered Able’s earnest face. She realized how important
this was to him. How important their spiritual intimacy was. He
trusted Cawood. “He’s just getting revved up again.” Juanita’s body
went rigid. The Mormon’s hand clasped on Cawood’s wrist.
    “Can’t he bother someone else?” She shook her
head. “I like Able, don’t mistake me. I do. But always he goes to
you.” She kissed Cawood again, her body softened. “What does he
want now?”
    “I can’t tell you.” Cawood sighed. She ran
her hands over Juanita’s soft shoulders. “I want to. I do. But, he
trusts me so much.” And he shouldn’t !
    “Don’t you trust me?” Juanita’s eyes
glimmered. “I won’t tell.” She patted the bed sheets, slid her hand
over Cawood’s vulva. “You trust me with this.”
    “I know, Juanita. I do.” Her breath caught,
and she closed her eyes. This was what it was all
about—relationships: the sharing of trust, of intimacy, giving and
receiving access to the soul. But it was God’s. It was the Holy
Mother’s. I’m so fucking bad . A desperate part of her mind
searched her memory of Juanita’s apartment. Liquor, there had to be
liquor. “Able won’t trust just anyone. And he trusts me.” Why not
tell? Her mind snickered. The whole thing’s a joke!
    “I like that about you.” Juanita’s warm
spirit returned and they shared a kiss. “I guess he does too.”
    Cawood remembered first meeting Able. She had
been on a personal revival of sorts, after falling far from grace
fifteen years after the Change. She had tried to blame the
difficulties with her vow of chastity on the fact that the Change
apparently halted her aging process, leaving her in the body of a
young woman for far longer than any nun ever had before. Before
long she stopped blaming anything at all, and dove into the erotic
world of human sexuality. Vows and chastity were thrown to the
wind, and she had cavorted with any interested man or woman.
    God had left her behind with the sinners, so
she would sin. But, she hit bottom after going on a drunken binge
with two men she met at a Catholic sponsored conference on Poverty
in the World of Change. She woke up naked in a hotel bathtub. As
she hurried to leave, she discovered one of the men was dead from
an overdose of barbiturates. Cawood was already struggling with the
new realities of dying and the thought of becoming one of the
walking dead was too terrifying. And for a time, she was scared
straight. For a time, the fear brought her back to her faith.
    She took this new passion for life to the
lost souls in the