STE. PATRICIA

PATRICIA MAE STERNOVSKI

A Lyrical Allegory of an Allegory

By Izzy Ess of Holiness

Patricia Mae Sternovski was a postal person in Chicago.  After graduation from her Catholic All Girls High School, Sainte Agathe and Franklin Roosevelt Academic Institution, she had started in the office sorting and arranging mail for veteran postmen and postwomen.  Delivery was done by smiling people who were always pointing out how good their legs were after many years of walking with a heavy bag, from door to door.  One-by-one, the veterans of the mail delivery for Chicago’s US Postal Service, were announcing plans to hang their shoes and bags up for retirement.  Pat put in for transfer from the sorting job to mail delivery.  She got the transfer in 3 months.  She anticipated happiness and better health.  Pierre Francois Langlois, aged 55, retiring in 3 months, was then assigned to Ms. Patricia on a route which did include expensive condominiums on Michigan, and the Corn Cob, Double Tower huge apartments on the northern shore of North Chicago’s River.

North Chicago’s where the famous Wrigley Field is situated, where the avid fans screamed for and screamed at the hapless Cubbies, who haven’t won a World Series since the year of 1908.  South Chicago’s where the White Sox play their games, once called the Black Sox after scandalous behaviour, involving bribes from Chicago mobsters, then, to throw the Series for the gamblers to make big bucks.  The Sox have been more successful winning games and Series than the Cubs.  The Diehard Cubby Fan Club member never goes to see the White Sox play, and vice versa for the White Sox fan.  The Black Hawks play in an arena right downtown, whereas Soldier’s Field is slightly South, in the Lakeshore area, where famous Bears play all home football games, in the Black and Blue Division of the NFL.

Patricia was just turning 21 and still a virgin.  She was first born newest generation of the hugest Polish population anywhere, save Warsaw.  Her parents were both Freedom Fighters back in Poland during WWII.  Patricia heard a lot about the heroism and the tragic losses of the Polish people.  Her parents were hopeful, while usually sad about their tragic heritage.  They had strong reasons to feel frustrated due to lack of credit given to the Poles for fighting hard and losing many lives.  They felt betrayed by Westerners, as well as having been suppressed by powers of the huge Eurasian Eastern Block.  They felt a deep resentment for the lack of credit given them, especially the Polish Freedom Fighters, who were denied a voice in both the East and West.  Patricia started life in Michael Reese, the hospital just south of Soldier’s Field, in Lakeshore areas of South Chicago.  While attending Catholic Churches, Schools and Institutions, Pat was sheltered from the social pressures of most youngsters to associate with other ethnic groups and make relationships for dating, love and sex.  Her parents were particularly quite protective for so many reasons, eh, including recent European reversals for the Poles, their recent relocation and the very strong relationships with Catholic teaching and strict tenets for survival and their daily, thoughts and prayers and living.  Ms. Patricia was protected from persuasion by the cosmopolitan milieu of the huge Chicago mix of people, a real social melting pot for millions.  Those Temptations that would influence the huge majority of teenagers did not affect Patricia who was dutiful, obedient and pious.  Also, she was beautiful in infancy and became a wholesome beauty as the years went by.  At 21, she could have been a model or a movie star.  She was completely unaware of how her inner and her outer beauty were so striking.  Some had said she looked a lot like Marilyn, the Marilyn Monroe.  Ms. Pat dressed so plainly, but the plainness of her over-wear just easily accentuated her quite striking purity and abject beauty.  Her long natural blond crown of hair worn quite unglamorously was a fitting picture for her dark blue eyes, her luscious lips and perfect oval face.  Her clothes worn ever loosely never hid the lovely body that was hers.  Embroidered cotton blouses and traditional brightly coloured vests and skirts announced to everyone that saw her that her parents were so proud of their great heritage.  She’d never worn high heels.

In postal grey and tightly fitting uniforms, she was a striking messenger-ess of the US Postal Service.  Pierre was sorely tempted to attempt to tempt Patricia but his instincts told him to resist.  For safety’s sake, Pierre averted all his ogling, concentrating on the job at hand, completely training Pat to be a postwoman and teaching her the ins and outs of her new weekday route.  Pierre was handsome and quite tall.  The both of them were quite attractive as they walked together with the bags of mail.  Soon Pat would demonstrate that she could handle all the ups and downs of her Chicago route and promised being very competent.  Her winning smile and attitude were flashy assets in her chosen occupation.

Patricia’s parents were so proud of her.  Her siblings, two brothers and a sister, still all lived together in the house near Ogden Avenue, deep in the centre of the huge 100% Polish community of Chicago, dubbed by Daly as a City of Great Neighbourhoods.  The restaurants that featured Polish food and entertainment drew big crowds of visitors from the other neighbourhoods, and many visitors that toured Chicago.  Inasmuch as Mayor Richard Daly had great influence in keeping neighbourhoods intact; in fact, he had refused to institute the bussing that was prevalent in most big cities in the USA and Canada.  Daly’s idea seemed to be the best arrangement for Chicagoans and the strong six million that resided in Chicagoland.  Patricia’s family could be at home as Poles.  The City was accommodating and encouraging for strong ethnic values of the neighbourhoods.  The Sternovski family was closely knit and did all things together, always and enthusiastically.  They were proudly part of the huge turnout for the Polish Pope when he was visiting.  150,000 was the crowd at Soldier’s field when he performed the Mass in Polish.  Thousands more observed it on TV and heard it on the radio.

Patricia Mae had passed the training period with flying colours.  M. Pierre Francois Langlois put in an A+ full report of her enthusiasm and aplomb, her cleverness and aptitude, her attitude and grooming, as the final thing he did before retiring.  Pierre and Pat made plans to have her come to his own home and meet the family, some plans which never were to be completed.  He shook her lovely hand and took a final look at her, sad somewhat that he’d never tried to tempt her, but satisfied that he’d been quite professional in his position as her mentor.  Ms. Pat felt loving thoughts about him; she was, of course, uncertain of her feelings toward.  After all, he was a man and she had learned that men are sometimes devious and devilish.  She much appreciated that he showed himself to be a gentleman and fatherly in his demeanor, protective and informative.  She had an urge to kiss him like she would have kissed her father but she let it pass without a move to put her face toward his for a kiss.  Pierre did sense these feelings and he looked away to help her and himself get through this awkward interlude.

On her first day by herself, she carried missives on her appointed route without a hint of insecurity.  Her winning ways impressed her customers as she deftly dropped her letters and brochures in fancy boxes in the fancy lobbies of the apartment buildings.  She liked the lobby of the Corn Cobs and liked the people who were coming by.  They all seemed wealthy and all were always sharply dressed.  Even those in morning wear would look like movie stars in stylish robes of paisley silk or beautifully embroidered terrycloth. Pat oft imagined what she’d look like in such clothing and her images did please her.  The clothing was revealing often and she’d blush at views of parts of bodies.  Some men and women saw the blushing but they passed it off as welcome signs of gratitude for showing off.  Pat’s grey and tightly fitting uniform with US Postal emblems often caused some blushing in her customers which Pat was apt to pass of as a normal state of some embarrassment at having been exposed to someone fully dressed while they were not yet in their daytime clothes.

Some customers did introduce themselves and asked Patricia for her name.  Within a week or two, she greeted some by their first names as they would say, “Hi Pat.  How goes your route, today?” or “Hello, Ms. Pat the beautiful mail carrier.  Is there a letter from you that could have a secret message for our rendezvous?” or simply, “Hi there, pretty lady!” with a friendly smile.  Patricia smiled a lot and often that was quite sufficient for the majority of wealthy folks she saw.  There was an older man, named Gabriel, that was quite friendly.  He often asked if she was finished soon and made an invitation to come up the 60 floors to see his rooftop condominium which had quite pretty vistas of the area, the Chicago River and the famous architecture of Chicago.  Pat, or course, declined the offer.  She didn’t make a fuss about the inappropriateness of the question or approach.  Francois had coached her well about the possible attempts to interrupt her strict routines of work.  She didn’t feel discomfort since Pierre had warned her constantly to brush aside such offers of a friendly after hours’ act of friendliness.  The pressure for the rendezvous was always minimal and done with taste and tact and in such a casual approach that she was not at all too shy about the questions and her quick replies of tactful declination.

A year went by.  Patricia was even more voluptuous and put her tightly worn post uniform to every test, of every stitch.  She proudly walked to show her figure as dramatic and her hair was looser now and actually quite glamorous.  Her smile was even more attractive, while her teeth were sparkling, more than ever, with the dentifrice that she was using, eh?  An hundred offers for a date or rendezvous had had to be rebuffed.  She handled these with practiced smiles and cute remarks about how private were her charms and underlying sexuality.  A man that looked much like her father was the most persuasive.  He was kind and handsome, old enough to be, indeed, her doppelganger’s father.  His name was Gabriel Beethoven Engelmann.  He said his name was close enough to Angel Gabriel.  As well, he looked a lot like Santa Claus with crimson ruddy face, a lot of silver facial hair, and a rotund figure with a proper belly.  Patricia was so tempted she could feel it in her groin.  Tuesday morning she was somewhat sleepy and accidentally had glimpses of her naked father after he had showered.  Feelings in her groin were more persistent.  As she made her rounds that morning, Gabriel was waiting for her with a tender smile.  She smiled right back and brushed her breasts against his arm as invitation for him to advance his cause.  Responding happily, the Angel Gabriel passed Pat the key to his apartment and remarked, “Just anytime, you want to visit me and have a friendly chat, please use the keys.  I’ll be at home this evening, if you want to come tonight.”  Patricia smiled and palmed the keys.  She walked away quite smilingly, anticipating happy things.  Gabriel could not believe she took the keys.  He watched her from the rear and enjoyed the view as she proceeded to the boxes for the mail.

The Angel, Gabriel, was gracious as he showed Ms. Pat the layout of his place.  He said that it would be OK if she removed her jacket and unbuttoned, somewhat, her tight blouse.  She did not hesitate.  Underneath her jacket, she had donned a bright red shirt with colourful embroidery magnificently done by her own mother.  She unzipped her trousers and revealed a miniskirt beneath.  It was revealing of her lovely legs and sculptured calves toned up by walking far and frequently while on the job, delivering the mail.  The Angel turned a crimson red and lit up his bald head.  His silken robe just fell apart as he was busy making tea and servicing crumpets to his Marilyn Monroe.  Suddenly, he asked, “Would you mind awfully if I called you Mary, dear?  It was the name my Mary had.  I’m widowed now for ten whole years because she had a cancer of her breast.  You look so much like her, it would really make me feel good if I called you by her Holy Name of Mary.”  Completely understanding, Pat replied, “Of course, my Angel.  You can call me Mary.  I’m still a virgin and the name is quite appropriate!”  The Angel Gabriel could not believe his luck.  He smiled from ear to ear and went directly to the seated Virgin Mary, bending down to kiss her on the lips.  His robe fell off and showed his great excitement.  Pat was quite delighted by her bold decision, coming to the Angel Gabriel’s roof-top apartment.  She stood to take him in her arms while he embraced her tenderly.  His nakedness did not appear to be offensive to the Virgin Mary.  Au contraire, Pat emulated what her parents did when she peeked in the master bedroom.  Pat took Gabriel’s erection and was gentle with it, stroking it as if it were a kitten.  Gabriel was smiling broadly as he reached for Pat’s blouse buttons and undid the rest of them.  Pat’s large breasts popped out revealing she was wearing not a stitch of underwear.  Her small pink nipples were so hard; they throbbed when Angel Gabriel would pinch them with his fingers and message them with his palms.  Patricia slipped her skirt off with her red silk panties and stood stark naked for the wondrous eyes of Gabriel.  She lay down on his bed exactly like her mother did.  She’d watched her mother spread her legs and up lift her knees to make a target for her father’s hardened manhood.  The Angels manhood had already stiffened and was red and throbbing.  Pat did what her mother did and made a target for her father’s doppelgänger.  She closed her eyes and easily imagined she was being targeted exactly like her mother might have been, the times she peeked into the master bedroom.

Gabriel could not believe his luck as Mary, AKA Patricia lay there naked on his bed sheets, eyes clenched shut, legs apart and knees up lifted.  He got between her legs and heard her murmur, “Papa, please come into me and make me happy like you make my mother happy.”  He liked the foreplay even more when she reached for him blindly and got a hold of his stiff rod and pulled it toward the target of his wildest dreams.  He prayed so fervently, “Oh Mary, my belove-ed, take your loving father to your inner chambers and allow us to be joined in matrimony, as we are joined together by the Grace of God.”  Patricia thrilled to hear these words and felt her insides start to gush with heat and flowing juices that she’d never felt before.  When the throbbing head of Angel Gabriel’s stiff mast first touched her private parts, she started squirting her hot juices at it, and was overjoyed.  She moaned in great anticipation of the coming penetration.  They both began to thrust but met with great resistance to a penetration.  They tried for several minutes to achieve Nirvana but the effort was becoming painful and Pat said, “Oh no, my daddy.  Please desist!  It hurts an awful lot.  She started crying.  So did Gabriel.  He lost his stiffness and jumped off the bed.  Mary sat up and appealed to him.  “What can we do, my love?”

The naked couple, hand-in-hand, walked nervously around the bed while trying to recover from the shock of this whole nasty situation.  Gabriel suggested oral sex and drew a picture for his gorgeous eager guest.  “I’ve never seen my mom and dad suck on each other.  Does it feel as good as normal sex?” she asked.  She was a virgin, after all and Gabriel respected that.  “I’ve done this oral sex before and it feels really good.  It has a number.  It is 69.”  Patricia smiled when she learned what 69 was all about.  She’d heard it whispered in the school yard when she was a teenager but had not the nerve to ask about it.  Her Catholic All Girls High School, Sainte Agathe and Franklin Roosevelt Academic Institution, was not the place to show your ignorance about the facts of life, sex or of love.  Gabriel led Mary back to bed and made a 69 with her.  She saw the possibilities and spread her legs for Gabriel.  She took re-stiffened Gabriel’s big tool inside her mouth and started tonguing, while he started licking her clitoris and the inner sides of the big lips between her upper thighs.  They climaxed simultaneously.  Pat, as Mary, was just over whelmed.  She never had imagined such a thrilling feeling.  Angel Gabriel, Pat’s doppelgänger father figure was completely overjoyed.

Pat asked, “Gabe, do you have a taper candle or a statuette of Francis of Assisi?”  “Why yes, I do.  Stay right there and I’ll retrieve the statuette.”  After a few moments, Gabriel returned to Pat and handed her a taper candle and a statuette of monk-like Francis of Assisi.  Pat took first the taper and she pointed it directly at the target in between her lovely legs.  She gently shoved the tapered tip inside of her, where tiny tampons had been introduced before.  She felt resistance as she firmly pushed the candle deeper into her vagina until she felt a satisfying give.  She moved the candle back and forth and rolled it all about until her cherry was completely split.  There was a little blood but it was minimal and stopped in several moments.  Gabriel was smiling as he pulled the candle out and then he introduced the hooded head of Francis of Assisi for Patricia who opened wide her legs and up lifted both her knees.  St. Francis disappeared inside of Pat without a whimper on Patricia’s part.  She smiled and both of them began to laugh.  Patricia stood up on the bed and squeezed.  Out came Francis of Assisi covered with the juice of Pat’s vagina, with a little blood.

The Angel Gabriel retrieved a bottle of Chablis and chilled it in a bucket full of ice.  He then led Pat, qua Mary, to the bathroom where he drew a nice warm sudsy, bubble bath for both of them.  They cuddled in the bubble bath and kissed and hugged.  His penile stiffness was too evident for Pat to just ignore.  She stroked his member and increased its length and girth.  They giggled and wiggled and managed to enjoin.  It was tremendously enjoyable for both of them as bubbles splashed and overflowed the tub.  They laughed some more and towelled each other off.  Returning to the bedroom, they sat upon the bed, enjoying sips of cold Chablis and some lovely crackers with pimentos.  They got between the bed sheets and entwined and thusly fell asleep.  In the morning, they enjoyed each other’s bodies, once again, with joy and much enthusiasm.  Gabriel revealed that he was really Gabriel, the Angel.  Pat smiled and said, “I know!  Now get me all my clothes and let me leave to get some breakfast and prepare to do my daily route.  There’s lots of work ahead for me.  I’m sure to be all finished in the afternoon.  Am I invited back, tonight?”  “Of course,” replied the Angel Gabriel.  “Do not be frightened by my surprising guest who wants to meet you.”  Pat was puzzled but continued to get dressed and left.

That evening, Pat, as Mary, was surprised to find some extra folks in Gabriel’s apartment.  Gabriel was there and introduced them as the Angels Paul and Peter.  They looked exactly like her father and the Angel Gabriel.  They led her to the bedroom and disrobed and asked her to do likewise.  She complied and felt a little strange as Peter, Paul and Gabriel took turns anointing her with myrrh and mounted her quite gently, lovingly and quite enthusiastically.  Pat resigned herself to her surprising situation and enjoyed herself with all three Angels.  She enjoyed the bubble bath with such attention that she felt relaxed and special.  Afterwards they all took turns with her and pumped her full of hot and sticky stuff.  She responded gladly with her own hot juices and was overjoyed.  Between the sheets, that night, she lay awake while all three Angels hugged her and then fell asleep.  In the morning, it was great again to have three men enjoy her while she did enjoy herself.  Amazingly, she wasn’t sore and still could squirt her juices on the Angels, Peter, Paul and Gabriel who looked exactly like her dad.  Each night for one whole month, the orgy was repeated.  At the end, the Angels disappeared.  Gabriel had left her all the keys and told her that the place was hers to use, as long as she desired.

Within the month, Pat realized that she was pregnant.  Her family was overjoyed and asked about the father.  She told them what had happened.  They laughed.  She puzzled all of them, her parents and her siblings, by insisting that her name was not Patricia, but was Mary.   Her whole family became suspicious but could not convince her that she had a fantasy of some sort.  They suspected she was hiding some sort of sordid love affair and made the story up about the Angels, Peter, Paul and Gabriel.  They took her first to see an Obstetrician.  He confirmed that she was pregnant in the first trimester.  He agreed she ought to see a shrink.   The Psychoanalyst agreed with Pat about the real events and then discussed with both the parents that she was psychotic and should be institutionalized.  Pat was screaming bloody murder as the EMTs, who came to pick her up, encased her in a jacket with her arms bound to her sides.  No drugs were given to avoid the possible effects on Mary’s pregnancy.  She screamed and kicked for many days until accepting what was happening and tried to see her pregnancy as something really positive.

Patricia named her healthy red-cheeked Cherub, Jesus Nazareth Sternovski.  She was wise enough to keep the facts a secret.  She related them to me, her Psychoanalyst, when she was over fifty years of age.  I agreed that she should keep the facts of her conception and the birth of her son obscure.  Pat gave me permission to write her story but she didn’t want it published until her grandchildren were deceased.  Her son became a carpenter who’d met a lovely Jewess; he’d converted to Judaism when their identical twin sons were born.  She knew inside her heart that Jesus was the Son of God and calculated that her son was just the third.  After the first, Elizabeth’s great John the Baptist, followed in short order by Mary’s Iesus Nazarum Rex Iudeum, and then much later, the third Son of God, Patricia’s Jesus Nazareth Sternovski.  Patricia/Mary died in peace in her middle eighties.  Jesus received a calling to enter the Yeshiva to become a rabbi, and he did.  His wife and family are otherwise fit and comfortable in their home in the Polish neighbourhood of Chicago.

AMEN AND HALLELUJAH!

THE END

© izzy sommers, md

Welland, Canada

August 15, 2013

[UNEDITED AND UNCENSORED]