Wedding Bells - F
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Wedding Bells - F
She wasn't serious. She was only going to have one wedding, and she wanted the whole nine yards. The problem was that Mom, who had opposed the marriage, now had the bit in her teeth. And it wasn't Mom's wedding; it was Marilyn's.
She and Andy took an extra weekend at his apartment before they drove up to Evanston on Monday. The bliss was sweet, and the threat of coming abstinence made it sweeter. Well, if they couldn't find a time to enjoy each other between now and the wedding, the time afterwards would be that much sweeter. Andy drove her home, carrying her luggage into the house before a good-bye kiss. Although Mom was in the kitchen, she left them alone for the kiss.
"Well, dear, did you enjoy the drive up?" Mom asked after Andy had gone.
"It was great. Andy says that he doesn't think he and his dad will have much to add to our plans." What he'd really said was that he wanted the marriage; he didn't care about the wedding. His only input on the wedding would be if she needed his support for her positions.
"If you brought home the usual amount of dirty clothes, you should probably unpack down here to save yourself the trip up and down."
"Only a little underwear." Andy had washed everything else on Saturday.
"Now that you'll be a married woman, you've decided to do the laundry yourself?"
"Now that we're going to be a married couple, Andy does the laundry."
"Really, Marilyn, I'm not sure that I think..."
"I'm not sure that you do, either, but it's one household chore that he does quite well. And we won't have a washer in the apartment. Somehow, he thinks of himself as doing the heavy lifting and carrying jobs. Maybe you think I should do the hauling of the laundry and he should do the dusting, but that's not how we're going to do it."
"Honestly, Marilyn!" So Mom thought she was being sarcastic. Well, Mom's comments had deserved sarcasm. "Anyway, dinner will be a little more than an hour. Do you need something to tide you over?"
"No, I'm fine. We packed a snack for the trip." There had been a little celery left -- her purchase, Andy ate it but didn't buy any salads but lettuce and cabbage -- and she'd stuffed it with peanut butter. They'd left nothing in the 'fridge but the ice cubes in the freezer.
Andy and she went in for premarital counseling on Thursday afternoon. Most of Rev. Lawrence's questions were easy to answer. Their next year was set in stone. After that, they'd look at what jobs Andy had on offer. Children were possible in the future, but not in their immediate plans. Andy was accepting of her working.
"You have to see that, in nearly the first serious conversation I had with Marilyn, she said that she planned to be a teacher. I fell in love with a woman who was going to teach. That might not be what attracted me, but it was always a part of the woman who attracted me."
Did they depend on her income in their plans? She answered.
"We have a budget, and a tight budget, for next year. We don't have the beginnings of a budget for later years, except that we need at least one salary. But we won't pay out more than we take in, nor promise to pay more from my salary than we know we'll get from it."
On household chores.
"Marilyn has higher standards than I do." Which was an understatement. Attila's ravaging hordes had had higher standards for housekeeping than Andy did. "She'll assign my duties. Part of her chores are supervising mine."
"And this imbalance of authority doesn't bother you?"
"Nah! Every night, she'll sleep in my arms. What we do before bedtime doesn't matter."
"There's more to marriage than sex, you know."
"I'm not using euphemisms. Oh, I don't deny that I enjoy sex, but I insist on her sleeping in my arms." Reverend Lawrence looked a little nonplused. Andy had been so permissive up to then, and was so insistent on this. But he'd casually assumed that Andy had meant sex every night. This was a widower and a marriage counselor with long experience. He'd assumed that Andy was insisting on sex every night, and his objection hadn't involved her periods. Maybe Andy's willingness to have sex during her periods wasn't one of his oddnesses.
"After all," she pointed out, "marriage is a compromise between two people with different priorities. If that is one of Andy's priorities, then it isn't one I'm going to argue about. It isn't as if he insisted on his way in everything."
After a lot more discussion, the pastor said that he was more interested in seeing that they'd considered all those issues than what their agreements were. After the appointment, they went to Andy's house. She was scheduled to be his -- technically his dad's -- guest for dinner. Mrs. Bryant was there, finishing up the dinner. They kept her company in the kitchen. She left earlier than Andy's dad got home. They spent the time making out, still in the kitchen. His dad rang the bell before he opened the door, and Andy went out to greet him. That gave Marilyn time to get her clothes back in order.
"The girls will definitely want to be at the wedding," Mr. Trainor said. "Margaret should be, too. I'll suggest to Margaret that she and the girls come just before the wedding, and the girls take their two weeks afterwards."
"Yeah," Andy said, "I want Mom there. She's never met Marilyn, you know."
"Sorry, Miss Grant. Divorced parents are a complication."
"But they are a reality, sir. I wouldn't want Andy to deny any part of his family." If she had to be 'Miss Grant,' Andy's dad could be 'sir.' He continued without blinking an eye.
"Look, nothing is more personal than a honeymoon, and I don't want to micro-manage yours for Christ's sake. Would a week in a Chicago hotel be a gift or an imposition?"
Andy looked at her. "It's all your choice. My imagination hadn't stretched to the room around the bed." She blushed. She couldn't help it. Andy looked apologetic, Mr. Trainor didn't bat an eye.
"It would certainly be a gift. You've already been quite generous."
"The week afterwards back here with the girls in the same house would certainly be an imposition. Would it, however, be one you could accept to make them happy?" Again, Andy looked at her. It seemed like a minor imposition if any. It meant having sex with others within hearing distance, but most parents managed for decades. After all, Molly and April wouldn't be listening at the door or mentioning what they might hear. Pete would be sure to do both if given the chance. And, where else could they go?
"That doesn't sound like an imposition. I like your daughters."
"I tried to read your face," she told Andy when he walked her home. "Did I speak out of turn?"
"Hell, no. All I worried about was your reaction. I really love my sisters. I'm even beginning to like Molly, again. And they damn-well worship you. You're high on the Trainor hit parade."
"Well, the Trainors are high on my hit parade, too, especially the son." And they had a long kiss on the porch steps before she went in.
"Enjoy yourself?" Mom asked when she got to the living room.
"Not too much, I hope."
"Mr. Trainor was there. Andy and I were properly chaperoned, you may be sure." The whole idea of chaperones was especially ridiculous for a couple about to be married. They would be off in a room by themselves for a week fairly soon, after all.
"Are you ready to talk bridesmaids?"
"Would six be too many?" She had her mental list, with two additions from this evening's conversation.
"Awfully many, certainly. Could you cut that by one or two?"
"Well, I haven't spoken to any of them. The problem that I have so many circles. One person would be easy to cut." Brittany was a connection between her Evanston life and her campus life, a connection between her and Andy, but she wasn't all that great a friend. "Could we go with five? The next one would be hard to choose, and cutting two would mean cutting out Zeta." Mom would hate for her to cut out Zeta, as would she herself, but Mom had to hear that the others took precedence.
"Let's hear them."
"Diane for maid of honor. We promised each other years ago. Then Beverly, my Little Sister, and Barbara, last year's roommate. They both live within driving distance. Then Molly and April, Andy's sisters. You see how it's past, present, and future."
"Well, I don't see why you have to have Andy's sisters."
"Because they've been real friendly to me. I'm going to be in the Trainor family a long time. I want to have good relationships with all my new in-laws."
"Well, dear, I suppose that those are possible." So she'd won one, and she'd have to yield to Mom on another issue.
Sunday, she spoke to Diane after church.
"Remember when we promised to have the other as maid of honor way back in tenth grade?"
"Yeah. I was wondering if you'd forgotten."
"No, but I was going to renege if we had to be married by a justice of the peace downstate. You don't know how much is still up in the air. We don't even have a date yet. That was one thing that I was going to ask you. I don't want to schedule it when you're not available."
"I'm available! I'm available! I can't say Andy impressed me way long ago, but I'm really happy for you."
The weather being warm, she would walk home. Andy, who had sat with her, was waiting. He and Diane spoke a bit, then Diane's parents got impatient. She lived far enough away from church that she never walked. Andy and Marilyn walked slowly and circuitously. They got so few chances to talk now that they were back.
"Give me the addresses of your sisters, will you?" she said. "I want them to be bridesmaids."
"Both? The Moppet will love you for that." He dropped her hand to reach for a pen. These days, the pen and pencil set she'd given him was always in his pocket. He wrote the address on the bulletin. With that in her purse, she took his hand again and walked more slowly.
"You know," she said, "you need attendants, too. Who will you get for best man?"
"Well, if you have April and Molly, maybe I should choose your brother." And maybe he shouldn't. His sisters were always good to her. Pete wasn't good, or even minimally polite, to either one of them.
"Andy, don't you have any friends from high school?" After all he had two high schools in his background. "Or college?"
"Not really. Some classmates are friends in the sense of friendly contenders in class. I don't think I have any addresses, even so. I don't think I told any of them that I was engaged. Most of my social life on campus was with you. I think I'm closer to half your sisters than I am to my classmates." And, considering how casual his relations were to even her line, that was sad to hear.
"Well, think about it." And her kiss on the porch stairs was hotter than usual out there because of the pity she felt for him. Andy was a great guy and so kind. He was, though, so lonely. When she was at the table and Pete was discussing his Saturday, she had longer to think about that. No, Andy wasn't lonely; he was alone when he wasn't with her, but he didn't miss the company.
Barbara called in answer to her letter. She said she'd be honored. She was available through mid July. Marilyn had hoped to be married before mid June, but that was fast approaching with nothing settled.
Her grades came. She'd raised French Lit in Translation to an A. All the other courses were B s. She called Andy to tell him. He congratulated her, but his hadn't come yet. When they did, he called. It was his second semester with every grade an A.
There'd be toasts at the wedding. The two of them should have their own. She wrote a draft of a series of toasts to their families and attendants. She gave the draft to Andy for emendations, but he approved it the way she'd written it.
"Do you think I should have included your stepfather?" She didn't want to, after what Molly and April had told her, but she did want good relations with his mom.
"The Turd? God no." And she'd accept that judgment.
Beverly didn't answer her letter. She finally called and got an answering machine. She and Mom picked out a wedding dress. She really liked it. She shivered a little when she compared the price with the budget she and Andy had set for their year together, but -- unlike the ring -- it wasn't coming out of the same pot. They took Diane with them to select the bridesmaids' dress. Marilyn was determined that it would be something the girls could wear as party dresses afterwards. She was starting to think of budgets, even other people's budgets.
Andy reported problems with his mother. She was obliged to send Molly and April to their father for two weeks in July. She felt authorized to choose which weeks. She didn't feel inclined to grant any leeway.
"Not for your wedding?"
"Well, since I stopped visiting, she puts me and Dad in the same file. This is something we're doing. And, since the girls met you when they visited him, you're something he's springing on her. I'll try to reason with her."
Finally, that was settled. The girls, with their mother and stepfather, would arrive in Chicago Tuesday, July 5th. They would miss the bridal shower, but all the wedding prep which involved them could be crammed into the next three days. The wedding would be Saturday the 9th of July. If they couldn't have a June wedding, they could be close. She sent off the mail invitations over the next three days, allowing enough time for delivery for anyone who would come. Two of her sisters would be in Europe, but they would have the invitations waiting at home for their scrap books.
Beverly returned her phone call Sunday, the 3rd. She'd been on vacation. She was thrilled to be an attendant at her Big Sister's wedding. She'd get into Evanston Tuesday to visit the shop with the bridesmaid's dress. Maybe there was a source closer to her, but she wanted to see Marilyn, anyway. She got her dress fitted on Tuesday, and Marilyn picked it up Wednesday when Molly and April were fitted. April looked like a woman in it, and Marilyn was happy for her choice. When Andy and she picked up the girls' dresses on Thursday, he paid with a credit card.
"Since when do you have a credit card?" She'd never seen it before, and it hadn't been mentioned in the budget discussion.
"Remember when Dad said he'd spring for the honeymoon? Well he figured we'd want to do lots of things besides just staying in the hotel. He was thinking of you, rather than me." Andy leered at her. He could leer away. He might like to imagine spending a week in bed with her. When he actually had several days with her, he got out of bed. "This card is in my name, but the bill will come to the house. He'll pay it. It was only for the honeymoon, but he figured I should use it for the dresses, 'cause he'll pay for them anyway."
Friday, she had the bridesmaids together for lunch before the rehearsal. They didn't need the time, but they needed the talk.
"Who is the man with you two?" Beverly asked Molly. "I know that Andy must be an Andrew, but I've never heard him called that before." Beverly had picked the girls up from the downtown hotel where they were staying -- on Jim Trainor's dime -- with their mother and stepfather until the two weeks of visitation officially began after the wedding.
"That's Mom's husband," Molly answered. "Mom calls him Andrew, and nobody else does, not even Dad. Elliot took it up. Andy says that he can't control what Elliot says, but he can control what he answers. Usually he doesn't answer Elliot."
"You call your stepfather 'Elliot?'"
"In polite company," April said. "You should hear the way we talk about him among ourselves." Marilyn chose not to disclose that the participation of 'The Turd' in the wedding party was the price that Andy's mom had extracted for the girls' participation. The conversation went on to other things.
The rehearsal went smoothly, despite her butterflies. Margaret Trainor Brewster sat between her husband and her ex on the groom's side of the front pew. As Andy's dad had pointed out, there wasn't much for the groom's family to do. Dad, on the other hand, marched her down the aisle magnificently. She wore her old heels. The pair that matched the wedding dress were something that Andy shouldn't see yet.
Andy's dad had taken a back room in a local restaurant for the rehearsal dinner. Andy's dad, April, Andy's mom, and her current husband sat at one table. Pete sat with Molly, and he looked like he was trying to make time with her.
"Andrew," Elliot Brewster asked in a loud voice, "how do you expect to support a wife when you're still a student?" Andy ignored him. Aside from using that name, The Turd clearly wasn't going to contribute anything towards their expenses. Why should he be briefed on their budget.
"Are you his mother?" Barbara asked in a saccharin tone. "I thought only his mother called him Andrew." The Turd gasped and looked around. He was not among friends. Rev. Lawrence looked like he didn't understand. Molly, and then Pete, laughed. Andy's expression could only be called a smirk. Dad looked concerned that ill feelings might be expressed. Mom was torn between that and instinctive support for another Zate.
"I must say, Marilyn," Andy's mom said, "that your choice of bridesmaids' dresses showed great judgment. So many of them can't ever be worn again. The girls will wear theirs, if never both at the same time." Not to change the subject, or anything.
"Really, Mom," April said. "It's one thing for you to try to dress us alike. It's another to both have the same dress. This was from Marilyn's wedding, and it's perfectly stylish."
Some others joined in the compliments on the dresses. And the rest of the evening passed quietly. She went home with her parents, though, and so didn't get to say goodnight to Andy. Well, the next night, she'd spend with Andy. They'd spend all the nights thereafter together.
The Trainors hadn't added much to the invitation list. "Aside from the church, and I assume you'd want them, too," said Mr. Trainor, "there's Mrs. Bryant, her husband, and two of her kids. There are also 9 people from Albany Bank." Dad had more of his business associates to invite than that, and Mom had a bunch of friends from her activities, especially those from the Zeta state board that lived in the Chicago-area. She had 17 acceptances from Zeta actives who weren't in the wedding party, and Barbara's parents were coming. They'd dithered between a large reception at the church, or a smaller -- more expensive -- one at a downtown hotel. Seeing that most of the people coming were ones that she wanted to impress, Mom had decided on the hotel. The ceremony itself was "y'all come" for church members, but anyone who wanted to be at the reception had to give prior notice. They had to book a certain number of seats for the dinner.
"Besides," Mom said practically, "many people in the church won't make up their minds in time to notify us. That will cut down the number."
Everything was arranged by Saturday, she'd only have to walk through a set of paces she'd rehearsed the night before. Rev. Lawrence would even read her her lines. She'd really wanted this. She'd fought Mom to have it at all, fought Andy to have it this year. Just before the wedding, she had her friends around her in the church office, supporting her. It was totally ridiculous to get cold feet, ridiculous and embarrassing, and she didn't like embarrassment. But, suddenly, she couldn't go through with it.
"What's wrong?" Diane asked.
"He loves me so much!"
"So, he loves you. That's a reason for not marrying him?"
"But I don't love him that much." She wasn't going through with this; she wasn't going out there, whatever they said. Beverly and Molly left to report the problem. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.
"May I speak to her," Mr. Trainor asked from outside. Diane looked at her, and she shrugged. Maybe he could explain it to Andy. "Now, Miss Grant," he said when he'd come in, "what seems to be the problem?"
"Andy loves me so much."
"Yes, I think he does. But, if that's a problem, I doubt if he'll stop loving you even if you refuse to marry him."
"But I don't love him as much."
"I think he knows that. I think most of us do. The question is whether you love him at all."
"You know that I do. But..."
"Well, loving someone is looking after their best interests. There is no doubt in my mind that Andy not only will be happier married to you but will be better off. We talk about equal partnerships, but that's only possible in economic terms. One dollar is equal to another. One person, one person's feelings, is never equal to another's. In terms of emotional dependence, you'll be entering an unequal partnership. In many other terms, like your understanding of him, you'll be contributing more. Besides, if you're married, I can't call you 'Miss Grant' any more." That was so ridiculous she almost laughed through her tears.
"You're saying that you'll call me Marilyn if I marry Andy?"
"If you wish."
"That's a ridiculous pay off."
"It's not intended as an incentive. Do you love him? More than any other person you could potentially marry?"
"Yes!" He was making the distinctions of kinds of love.
"Is he eager, desperately eager, to marry you?"
"The conclusion of the syllogism is left to the student." She actually laughed.
"Okay, I will."
He handed her a handkerchief. "Wipe your eyes and let me get back to my seat, will you?" Well, it took longer than that to repair her face. Nobody looked at their watches when Dad led her down the aisle. The ceremony proceeded, but the story would be all over Zeta house that fall.
When Andy lifted her veil and nudged her under the chin, she looked into the face of her husband. As they kissed, she was glad that he was her husband.
The reception was at the Palmer House in the Loop. There was a reception line and a then dinner. When the dinner was over and all the toasts to them, some extraordinarily long-winded, had been said, Andy got up.
"Mr. and Mrs. Trainor have some toasts of their own. Pardon me for the expression, but I'm blissfully happy that this is what we are." That hadn't been in the script she'd prepared, but Andy returned to the agreed plan. "To Mrs. Judith Grant and Margaret Trainor Brewster, without whom there would have been no wedding, and -- indeed -- no couple to be wed." She rose, sipped from her glass, and then said the next lines.
"And to James Trainor and Richard Grant. They had something to do with it, too." They alternated the next speeches, both sipping after each toast.
"And to Diane Quinlan, Barbara MacGregor, and Beverly Guerin. They've helped Marilyn over the years and helped make this occasion what it is."
"And to Molly and April Trainor, always Andy's sisters, and now mine."
"And to Peter Grant," Andy finished up, "who stood with me through the service." He emptied his glass, she emptied hers, and they sat down.
Soon, the dinner was over, and they separated to speak to their guests. Only a few of the church members who'd attended the wedding had come to the reception, but Mrs. Benton was one of the few. If she had any Christian tendencies of forgiving those who had wronged her, she didn't seem to be in a mood to forgive those whom she had wronged, even if nearly four years ago.
"Do you even know what a white wedding dress symbolizes," she asked in a low voice.
"Yeah. In 1977 it means that the bride hasn't slept with any man except the groom." Mrs. Benton huffed away.
"Is that the meaning in '77?" Mrs. Pierce asked from behind her. She hadn't thought anyone would hear. "In '73, it didn't mean even that. At least, at my wedding it didn't. So, is Andy GIB?"
"My pardon. Good in bed. It's none of my damn business. Just remember, though, that being GIB covers a multitude of faults in a husband."
"Andy doesn't have any faults." She didn't know why she'd said that; she certainly didn't believe it.
"Well, when the honeymoon is over, remember my words. Anyway, Bill sends his love. He's at home trying to protect the apartment from the Vandal hordes." Well, their mother could malign them, but she thought the twins were cute.
"They're nice boys."
"Especially at this distance. Circulate. I'll keep myself entertained."
When she and Andy left, some of the guests threw rice. BC pills might have been more appropriate. They didn't have far to go, Mr. Trainor had made their reservation in the same hotel when he learned where the reception was. Andy blocked the way, When he had the door open. He picked her up in with one arm under her back and the other under her legs instead of his usual way. He carried her into the room and kissed her before letting her down.
"I love you Mrs. Trainor."
"And I love you Mr. Trainor." Which was an odd thing to call him. She had an entirely different meaning for that name. She gestured him back when he tried to undress her. Andy meant well, but she wanted to be extra careful with this dress. He watched while she hung it up and started on her slip. Then he stripped. He was done before she was, and already erect. He picked her up again, this time under her armpits, and kissed her. Then he lifted her as his mouth ran down her neck and torso. He ended with his arms fully extended and his lips on her upper stomach. Laying her across the bed, he began from her ankle. He kissed a line up the inside of her left leg until he reached her pussy, which was already streaming from the treatment.
He barely paused when lightning struck her. As soon as she'd recovered after it struck again, she pushed his head back.
"No! This night of all nights. In the bed, under the covers." He half lifted her as she rearranged the sheets and a light quilt. He pushed the bedspread aside. When they were lying in bed side to side, she said, "Now, Andy. In me." He knelt between her legs. She guided him in as he slowly spread her and filled her. "Oh, yes," she said.
"I love you, Mrs. Trainor." He kissed her forehead. Then he moved back and forth, in and out, in slow strokes. Her arousal spiraled upwards. Lightning struck. He sped up, "Marilyn!" She could feel him throb within her.
Later, he got up to turn off the overhead light. When he came back to bed, he held her against him.
"Every night," he said.
"You know, its not really in your arms. You only hug me with one arm."
"That's because you won't sleep on top."
"I love you, Andy."
"And I love you, too, Mrs. Marilyn Trainor." He really enjoyed using that name. The hotel's air-conditioning was excellent, and they slept comfortably wrapped together.
That morning, Andy shaved before coming back to bed. When she rejoined him, they had a long kiss. They were fairly rested since they hadn't set any alarm, and they didn't have anywhere to go. When they heard a noise in the hallway, she stiffened in his embrace.
"It's the cleaning crew! Did you put out the do-not-disturb sign?"
"It's hanging on the back of the door. If you put it on the front, they won't come in to clean." Andy rushed naked to the door, stood behind it while he opened it, and hung the sign on the outside doorknob. As he came back with his stiff cock leading the way, she got the giggles picturing the cleaning woman opening the door just before he got to it. She didn't tell him the joke, but he laughed at her laughter. When he tickled her to get more laughter, she retaliated.
He turned the tickle fight into a wrestling match, one that he won easily with his greater weight and greater reach. He managed to hold both her wrists above her head with one hand while holding her legs down with one of his legs across both her knees. That left one hand free to attack her tits and pussy.
"Help! Rape!" she cried very softly. She didn't want anyone to hear; they might stop him. By the time he moved his leg back, she could only spread her legs to improve his access. Her wrists were still captive to his hand when the lightning struck.
"Darling!" he exclaimed. "Love!" He wasn't about to release her, though. His hand brought her to one climax after another. Finally, he picked her up and rolled over on his back. He lowered her towards his groin as she grabbed him and put him in. She found the most exciting way to move while he held her tits and rolled her nipples with his thumbs.
"Oh!" she said as the lightning seared her. Her motions became uncontrolled until Andy took her by the hips to press he down over his throbbing cock. When she collapsed onto him, he held her down to his chest. They both fell asleep again. When she woke, her stomach was telling her it was empty and her bladder was telling her it was full. While in the bathroom, she started her shower.
"No fair," he said stepping in the tub soon afterwards. It had been perfectly fair to shower alone; he'd been dead asleep. They soaped each other and rinsed themselves. He wrapped her in a glorious hotel towel. When he dropped her on the bed, she rolled over to the other side.
"I am prioritizing. I want breakfast now, and that later. We have all week."
"We have all week to eat, too." But he started to unpack and dress. She was dressed and going into the bathroom to put on her face when she saw him start to make the bed.
"Leave it. They'll do it." And, to make sure they did, she put the do-hot-disturb sign back on the inside when they left.
They got down to the dining room -- one of the dining rooms, it was a big hotel -- just before they stopped serving the brunch. Andy might have had another priority, but he gorged when the food was in front of him.
They visited the Art Institute that day, and she showed him her favorite halls. The rest of the week, they took breakfast in the hotel, but lunch and dinner in some other restaurant. They saw movies on two afternoons, and live theater Thursday evening. And every night, after sweet love, she slept in his arms -- or his arm. They were tourists in their own city, walking the streets hand in hand. Andy contented himself with one love-making session a night, but they returned to the hotel room every afternoon to kiss and cuddle. Some times she changed clothes then, and Andy changed into his suit for the night they went to the live theater.
Friday night was their last time in the room. Her feeling of fondness for it was ridiculous; hotel rooms were temporary by definition. She did, however, feel some sadness in leaving it. They had been alone here. Everybody else -- everything else -- they dealt with was there to serve their needs. After this, they'd have to deal with others. She couldn't quite express it, but Andy must have felt something similar. He was slow, almost solemn, in stroking her. He came over her immediately when she reached for him.
"Oh, darling," he said as he entered her. His strokes were slow and gentle until lightning struck her. Then he thrust hard and pulsed within her contractions. "Sweet darling -- sweet Marilyn," he said. She clasped him around the waist, keeping him on top of her.
"Sweet Andy," she said. That night she went to sleep facing him. Their foreheads nearly touched.
He came back to bed in the morning, and she went into the bathroom immediately. She washed her face and put on her makeup. She began dressing when she came out.
"Come back to bed," he said.
"Let's have breakfast." He looked displeased. "Let's have breakfast and come back." He got up immediately.
She had a light breakfast, but Andy ate a large one. When they got back to the room, Andy put the "do not disturb" sign on the outside of the door. Their love making was almost ritualistic, and they lay long holding each other afterwards.
Still, they were checked out before 11:00. They had an early lunch.
She hadn't wanted to fill her stomach at breakfast when she knew she'd have Andy on top of her soon
after. Andy seemed able to eat at any time. They got on Lake Shore Drive to Evanston about noon.
They were going back into the world, but they were going back as a married couple.
The End Wedding Bells - F Uther Pendragon firstname.lastname@example.org 2012/04/04 These same events from Andy's perspective, can be read in: Andy's Experience The first adventures of Marilyn with Andy: "The Meeting - F" Another story about another couple getting married: "Oh Canada - F" The index to the entire Gjt series is: God Joined Together The index to almost all my stories is: Index to Uther Pendragon's website