Sister Bernadette had been at the convent of St. Mary’s for just over two weeks. They accepted her despite her very young age and somewhat open ideas about life. She was intelligent, obtaining a first-class honours degree from Cambridge in advanced Science and Anthropology, a course that encompassed all the sciences for good measure.

Her love of learning knew no bounds, which only made her decision to enter the convent somewhat odd. But her saving grace was her enthusiasm, her bubbly nature and her undying commitment to deliver the word of God. She knew it backwards, the Bible that is.

Mother Superior believed that she would appeal to the younger generation and spread the word of the lord to the wider community.

“Heaven knows,” she argued, “her cheerful nature and sharp insight into the working minds of the young could only help.”

The other nuns agreed, and when Bernadette, with her vibrant red hair, somewhat pouty lips and angelic face, met them in a kind of interview, she had them twisted around her little finger in no time.

In only two weeks, Mother Superior was doubting her decision-making abilities.

On the first day of Christmas, Sister Bernadette was tasked with setting up the nativity; the kind most people put on a shelf in their home, but this one was life-size and to be staged at the entrance to the convent itself. What could go wrong?

It was a simple task and one that Bernadette could excel at, and yet, she had grand ideas of inclusion. More farmers, more people at the inn, more animals and more of everything. She went to town with all the figures made from soft furnishings and fabric. She set it all up. Stood back and felt proud of her creation.

There were windows in the tavern with people inside. The three wise men stood close to the baby Jesus and the virgin Mary and Joseph (the earthly parents of their baby boy), knelt beside him, protecting him. There were tradesmen and their wives standing around a modest barn. Even farmers tended their flock at night in the nearby field.

Sister Bernadette couldn’t have been prouder. She let Mother Superior know that she had finished while she went to pray.

It was indeed a grand sight.

In any situation or scene, there is always something that stands out as odd, maybe not odd, but out of place. Incorrect. Not true to life. Downright wrong.

Mother Superior’s mouth practically dropped open when she saw the display. Half of it she couldn’t believe, half of it was more modern than it should have been and half of it, she knew her maths was suspect, but half of it was, to all intents and purposes, pornographic.

She would have to have words with Sister Bernadette before anyone turned up to see this epic failure. She found Bernadette, praying, or so she thought. In fact, she was sitting in the church with her back to the wall, looking up at the altar. In her hand was a chain with a cross, which she rolled around her fingers, with her knees together, her feet apart, and her white habit hiked up past her waist. She displayed everything from her waist down.

The lord was looking.

Mother Superior could only wonder at how she had lost her knickers, and why she was sitting on the cold floor on her bare bottom, and why her sex was so wet. Glistening as if she had been – she buried the thought. Deeply. And yet her face was an Angelic picture of joy.

“Sister Bernadette,” Mother Superior started, “I think you have some explaining to do. Would you accompany me to the Nativity, young lady?”

Bernadette followed closely behind. A smile broke out on her face.

“What do you see?” asked Mother Superior.

“The work of the lord,” Bernadette replied.

Mother Superior felt dismayed. She stroked her brow, searching deeply for the right words, but the only words she found were those Bernadette would use.

“The rainbow coloured swaddling clothes,” she pursed her lips, “are they in keeping with the time period?”

Sister Bernadette thought for a moment. “The clothes represent freedom from prejudice. The baby has just been born, and despite him having a penis, there’s no telling at this stage what sex it chooses to be.”

“It?” commented a shocked Mother Superior. “What about the inn. There are four windows, each with a scene inside. Did the lord speak to you about that?”

“He did, Mother Superior,” Bernadette smiled, bit her lip and explained. “It’s what people did in those days; they had sex. The first window is a couple probably enjoying the first night of their holiday, the second is a submissive woman, who likes to play with handcuffs and being spanked, and the third is two lesbians engrossed in their favourite pastime – you’ve got to love a sixty-nine, don’t you?” Her enthusiasm for different sexual acts was clear for all to see.

The look on Mother Superior’s face said otherwise.

“And the fourth window, Sister Bernadette?”

“Yes, I can see your point, but threesomes were not that uncommon. Two women and a man were not unheard of.”

“And the three wise men?” Added Mother Superior. “The one on the left seems preoccupied?”

“He’s holding the other one's penis. They were travellers, they probably became really friendly on their long journeys, and those solitary nights would only lead to frustration, and as we know, frustration leads to want, want leads to need and before they know it...”

“The three wise men, Sister Bernadette, are not gay. Do I make myself clear?”

Bernadette nodded profusely. She could tell where this was going.

“And that field needs to be taken down completely, do you understand me?”

Bernadette nodded.

“We can’t have farmers and their wives fornicating in open fields. I don’t care how lonely or how cold or how desperate they might be.”

“And as for that contraption the carpenter is using on the woman next to him, destroy it!”

Sister Bernadette pursed her lips, swallowed hard and was dismayed that the whole Nativity she created would be dismantled in favour of decency and morality. Life, even in those days, wasn’t like that. People did have sex, and kinky sex at that. Spanking was widespread, and they cheated just as much then as they do now. And women definitely pleasured each other, you only have to look at the Greeks and Sumerians to know that. Not everyone was clothed in virgin white robes.

She pulled at the hem of her white robe as if to tear it from her body. She felt her nipples throb from underneath.

“In the morning, I want this gone, I want a traditional sex-free Nativity. Do you understand me?”

Mother Superior stormed away in disgust. Bernadette was glad of a few things: one, was the fact that she never saw the dog next to the crib licking its balls, two, that she never realised that the Angel was in the throes of orgasm with a pink dangly thing extending from her crotch, and three, she never noticed the mobile phone in Josephs hand that controlled the pink dangly thing.

The only straight person in the whole crowd was Mary, but even she had thoughts of joining a few of the tradesmen in the wings. It had been a long time since she did two at once. Too long.

She left her version of the Nativity. Its one thousand and one faults would be corrected in the morning. She felt drained with all the criticism levelled at her, and there was only one thing that cured criticism.

She headed for the church, hiked her habit around her waist, sat on the cold stones and opened her thighs so that God could see her. She prayed, crossing her chest with her hand, and she fondled the cross around her neck. A sigh bellowed through the church.

She promulgated her own Hail Marys in the name of the lord, letting her hands wander over her thighs before spreading them wide, and with the place so empty, she plunged her fingers straight into her wet and waiting pussy, spreading her juices all over her twat before plying the pads of her fingers over her clitoris. The sounds she made would turn his head for sure and make his eyes open wide. She’d have him spurting for sure. She came hard at the thought, her chunky legs shaking, her bottom rising from the cold floor with every touch until she converted all that pleasure into a mind-blowing release.

When it was over, she smiled to herself, tapped her pussy for good measure, before removing the nipple clamps that no one could see her wearing.

No one, apart from sister Emily, who was crouched in a corner of the church and watching her from behind a wooden pew. She bit her thumb. Coughed.

Their eyes locked for what seemed like eternity.