The Violated Virgin by Ward Fulton Chapter 8 - Last Chapter

Chapter 8

Suzanne lay on her bed, staring out the wide window at the whitecapped

Detroit River. In the distance a lonely tug broke the silence with its

mournful hoot, and a flock of birds was silhouetted against the clouds,

flying north to Canada.

She stretched, lifting her arms lazily; she smiled, and snuggled back

against the pillow. For the hundredth time, she reached for the letter

on the nightstand, opened it and read, an extra smile of pleasure

creasing her face.

A brief knock at the door heralded its opening, and Mrs. Delacorte

walked in, carrying a breakfast tray.

"How many times are you going to read his letter?" she said, her

normally prim face relaxed in a sympathetic grin.

Suzanne folded the paper and pushed it back in the envelope.

"Every hour until he gets here," she replied happily. "Oh, Mother, I'm

so excited."

"I guess I would be, too," said Mrs. Delacorte, placing the tray across

the bed. "Come on, I've fixed your breakfast myself today. Scrambled

eggs the way you like them, sausage and toast and coffee. Your father

says I'm spoiling you."

Suzanne laughed, and looked affectionately up at her mother. "Sit down

and talk," she said.

"I was intending to," said the older woman. "After all, since you left

home, I've missed our little chats. It's good to have you back."

"I know. I'm glad to be back, too."

Mrs. Delacorte lit a cigarette from the box on the nightstand, and

leaned back, her eyes resting lovingly on her daughter.

"You're certainly looking better than you did when you returned," she

commented. "I can't tell you how unhappy I was with your living in that

dreadful slum."

"It wasn't that bad," Suzanne admitted, sipping her coffee. "But ...

well, there's no place like home."

Her mother nodded. "Especially when it's clean, modern and

comfortable," she said. "Tell me, what really made you decide to move

back? I mean, I had fully expected you to return, but not quite so

soon."

Suzanne hesitated, and took a mouthful of sausage and eggs before

replying.

"Well, lots of things, really," she said guardedly. "I guess, to be

honest, I got tired of slumming."

"Spoken like a true Grosse Pointer," said Mrs. Delacorte, and they both

laughed, knowing the humor of her statement.

"Truthfully, I wanted to stay, but the neighborhood is really worse

than I had expected."

"Why do you think the city's tearing it all down?" asked her mother.

"Another few years, and all those crummy buildings will be gone, and

nice, new highrise apartments for students will take their place. And

it's about time, too. Wayne's a good school, and I've never understood

how they've put up with those ghastly people living in those old

buildings, right next door, as it were. I mean, it's terrible that the

poor have such bad living conditions, but I feel if half of them got

out and worked, they wouldn't have to live like they do. It's a sad

situation." She sighed. "I'm thankful that your father and I have been

able to give you a good home and a respectable upbringing. I've often

imagined what might happen if a girl grew up among those people." She

shuddered. "I've been told that half of them are pregnant by the time

they're sixteen."

Suzanne stared at her mother intently. Mrs. Delacorte's face had a

tolerant look of distaste which accentuated the tiny wrinkles at the

corners of her mouth and eyes, skillfully covered with a layer of

makeup. Her hair was immaculate, and from her ears a pair of diamonds

were suspended on small platinum chains. Her dress was a sophisticated

black sheath, simple and tasteful, but obviously from Saks or

Bergdorf's.

Suzanne had a passing mental image of Donald's mother, seated in her

rundown apartment on Forest Avenue, her hair hanging in rat-tails, her

coarse features devoid of makeup, and her breasts swinging obscenely

under her cotton shift, while her bare feet rested on the torn linoleum

rug, and the woman's drawling Kentucky accents echoed in her ears ...

"Work? I dunno. There ain't much I can do. 'Sides, I git enough from

welfare to get by."

Suzanne shivered and took another bite of toast.

"I learned a lot, I'll say that," she murmured, washing the toast down

with a sip of coffee. "I'll probably have a real good grade in

sociology, thanks to my research. My paper's coming along nicely."

"Good," replied Mrs. Delacorte vaguely. "It's a blessing that you're

intelligent, my girl."

Suzanne stared at her mother, not quite comprehending the words which

sounded out of context to what they had been discussing. But she

decided to let it pass. There were many things her mother said which

she realized were merely words to fill up time between what Mrs.

Delacorte considered the important aspects of life.

"So when's Sam arriving?"

Suzanne smiled happily, and her heart beat a little faster.

"Five o'clock," she replied. "On BOAC. I'm going to be at the airport

in plenty of time. I don't want to miss seeing the plane come in. Oh,

Mother, I'm so happy."

"You look it, I'll say that for you." Her mother paused and smirked.

"You are going to marry him, aren't you?"

Suzanne nodded emphatically. "Of course. I've always been in love with

Sam."

"Hm. To be truthful, I had expected you to get married a few months

ago, but then he suddenly upped and flew off to Europe. Did you by any

chance have a tiff?"

Suzanne shook her head. "Nope. He just said he wanted to get away for a

while," she lied. "But let's not talk about that. Sam's coming back,

and just as soon as we can, we're going to be married."

"He asked you in his letter?"

"No. He didn't ask. He said so."

"Oh. Caveman tactics."

"No. He's aware how I feel. I guess he just took it for granted that

I'd say yes, and I will. Oh, Mother, I can hardly wait."

Mrs. Delacorte sniffed. "Well, I want you both to have a talk with the

minister first. You know, there are lots of things a young couple

should know before getting married. And of course we'll have to send

out the invitations and everything. Oh, I want you to have the biggest

and best wedding that Grosse Pointe has ever seen. After all, Sam's

family is well known, and it should be a real nice splash on the social

pages."

Suzanne leaned back and wiped her mouth with the linen napkin.

"Mother, I'd just as soon have a quiet ceremony. I know Sam's not

planning a big wedding. He's often said so."

"Suzanne, children do not arrange their weddings. Their parents do, and

you're not going to deprive me of seeing my only daughter married in

high style."

"But, mother, it's my wedding."

"I'll not discuss it any further, Suzanne," said Mrs. Delacorte, rising

and lifting the breakfast tray off the bed. "You're going to have a big

wedding and you may as well get used to the idea."

Suzanne sighed. "Yes, Mother."

"And don't look like that. You know you really want it, just like any

other Grosse Pointe girl. Remember, you only get married once, and you

may as well go all the way. It's not that we can't afford it, remember,

like those other people."

"I know. But I think Sam'll want to get married right away, and a big

wedding takes time, and there's so much planning and all that

nonsense."

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Delacorte's voiced rose three octaves. "Suzanne, you

listen to me, my girl. I'll arrange everything, and you can get

married, oh, say, in about a month or six weeks. Besides, that'll give

you and Sam a little time together. After all, he has been away, and

I'm sure you both have lots to talk about."

"I suppose so." Suzanne threw the covers back and stepped out on to the

thick, plush carpet. "Mother, I think I'll shower and get dressed.

Thanks for the breakfast."

Mrs. Delacorte picked up the tray and moved to the door.

"You're welcome, dear, and believe me, darling, it's so wonderful

having you back home again. You've no idea how much happier I am,

knowing you're back where you belong."

She left, closing the door behind her. Suzanne glided across the carpet

soundlessly, and went into the pink and white tiled bathroom,

resplendent with gold fixtures and a sunken tub. She stared at herself

in the full-length mirrors, and slipped off her pajamas, standing naked

while she surveyed her body.

She heard a voice echoing in her mind ... "Jeez, lookit them tits!" She

closed her eyes, seeing Donald's naked body on top of her own, his

mouth hungrily devouring her lips while his penis moved slowly in and

out of her vagina.

With a quick shake of her head, she dismissed the memory, stepped into

the tub, and turned on the faucet. As the stinging warm water splashed

on her skin, she reached for the soap and began soaping herself all

over, relishing the sensual feeling of her fingers and the spray.

It was nice to be home again, she thought, enjoying all the comforts

that her parents' wealth afforded her. Yet there had been a cozy warmth

to her little apartment on campus; if only it could have stayed that

way, instead of being so violently disrupted by those boys. And Yvonne

... poor Yvonne! Suzanne would never forget the look on the woman's

face as she walked out of the apartment that night, her age and her

frustrations deflating her expression, removing the constant forced

sparkle and superficial gaiety. And Carole, whose eyes had betrayed her

remorse even if her mouth had remained silent. Yes, it had been a bad

scene, but as an experience, it had been invaluable. Even her

encounters with the three boys had been a traumatic breakthrough for

her, revealing her innate sexuality to herself and enabling her to

dispel her inhibitions. She knew now that when she and Sam slid under

the sheets, she would be able to satisfy him completely. And she knew

instinctively that a wife who keeps her husband happy that way need

never fear about his straying from home. Yes, she would be able to give

Sam every type of sensual satisfaction he could possibly crave. Her

body glowed at the thought, and she finished her toilet quickly, eager

to be dressed and ready to go to the airport and meet him. Her heart

beat quicker at the thought of seeing his handsome face once more,

feeling his arms about her and his lips pressing on her own. Oh, Sam

... Sam ... hurry home, darling, hurry home. My arms are waiting and my

body is eager to feel you, naked and aroused, lying on top of me ...

* * *

Detroit Metropolitan Airport was crowded as Suzanne and her parents

pushed their way through the mass of people to the arrival gate.

Suzanne's hands were trembling, and she bit her lip as she moved, her

body bumped by the throng of travelers disembarking. Her eyes were

glued at the oncoming sea of faces, eagerly searching for the broad,

handsome features and shock of brown hair that she had been dreaming of

for so long.

"There he is!"

Mrs. Delacorte's voice cut through the babble like a knife, and Suzanne

turned and stared.

"Oh, Sam!"

She rushed forward, and they were in each other's arms, and she felt

his wide lips cover her own. Her arms held him tightly, and

instinctively she opened her mouth and let her tongue lick across his

lips for a second before breaking apart. Sam's large blue eyes were

wide, and he laughed enthusiastically.

"Now that's what I call a welcome," he breathed. "Oh, Suzanne, it's so

good to see you."

She wiped the tears from her eyes, and kept one arm around his waist

while he shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Delacorte. He looked around.

"Mother and Dad didn't come?" he asked disappointedly.

"No, afraid not, Sam," said Mr. Delacorte, "Your father's in Chicago on

business, and your mother wasn't feeling well. Nothing serious, just a

touch of the flu."

"Oh, well, you're here," Sam said, looking at Suzanne. "That's all that

really matters."

They walked back through the terminal and collected his two suitcases,

and in ten minutes were driving back down the expressway towards

Detroit, Sam sitting close to Suzanne in the back seat of the Delacorte

Cadillac, while Mr. and Mrs. Delacorte rode up front, both keeping

their eyes tactfully on the road, conscious that the two young people

in the back would much rather be alone. Suzanne snuggled close, her one

hand on the inside of Sam's thigh; his arm was around her, and every

few seconds, they would lean close and kiss. Suzanne felt her loins

responding, and she knew Sam was getting excited. She had already

noticed the slight bulge in his pants, and inwardly she felt a glow of

satisfaction. Oh, she could hardly wait 'til they were really alone.

She wanted him so badly, she almost hurt.

"You're having dinner with us tonight," said Mrs. Delacorte

imperiously, "Of course, we'll drop you off at your home first so you

can say hello to your mother, but then you come on over. I know

Suzanne's got lots of things to discuss with you, and we have to make

plans for the wedding and everything."

Sam's eyes almost popped out of his head.

"Wedding?"

Suzanne squeezed his thigh.

"Of course, darling." She kissed him quickly. "Don't tell me you're

turning me down?"

He grinned happily. "No, of course not," he said firmly. "But I thought

at least you'd wait 'til I asked you."

Mr. Delacorte's gruff voice broke in.

"Sam, if Suzanne's like her mother, you don't stand a chance, take it

from me. Mrs. Delacorte proposed and married me before I could say,

Drop your drawers."

"Really!"

Mrs. Delacorte's acid tones were drowned by Sam's loud laugh and

Suzanne's high-pitched giggle.

"At least you're not marrying her for money," Mr. Delacorte continued

more soberly. "Which is comforting."

"I'm marrying Suzanne," said Sam evenly, "because I love her."

* * *

Suzanne steered the car carefully around the winding street. Her eyes

were on the road, but she knew Sam's were on her, taking in every inch

of her profile.

"Well," he murmured gratefully. "At last we're alone, really alone."

"I know," she replied. "My folks can be a real drag sometimes, but they

mean well."

The car pulled up outside the large mansion.

"You coming in for a while?" asked Sam, putting his hand on her

shoulder.

"Try and stop me," Suzanne answered.

They climbed out of the car and walked up the driveway arm in arm.

"That was a good dinner," said Sam inconsequentially.

"Mm."

"You going to cook for me when we're married?"

"Of course."

He laughed. "I thought maybe you'd want a cook like your mother has."

"Never. I'm going to cook for you, clean house, do everything for you."

"Everything?"

She squeezed his waist. "Everything."

"You sound terribly menacing."

"Maybe I am."

"I love it."

"And I love you."

She turned into him, moved her arms up around his neck, and pulled him

to her, closing her lips over his. Breathlessly, they clung together,

the warm breeze caressing their faces, and the bright moonlight turning

Suzanne's hair to silver.

They broke apart and continued walking up to the front door.

"Mother's probably asleep by now," said Sam, opening the massive carved

slab and ushering her inside.

"Good. We won't be interrupted then," said Suzanne, walking into the

tiled entrance hall, her heels clicking softly.

He laughed softly.

"Are you planning to seduce me, young woman?"

She nodded.

"Of course. You really didn't invite me in for coffee now, did you?"

"Of course not."

"All right, then."

She walked into the wide living room, illuminated only by a small

reading lamp at the far end. The warm glow gave her cheeks a sensuous

patina, and Sam smiled as he approached her, took her in his arms, and

kissed her gently.

"You're very lovely," he murmured. "And I've missed you terribly."

"Me, too. There wasn't a day I didn't wish you were back here. Oh, Sam,

why did you ever leave?"

"You know why," he replied calmly. "I couldn't stand it any longer."

"Couldn't stand what?"

"Being with you, but still being at arm's length. You remember that

night on Belle Isle?"

She nodded. "I'll never forget it."

"That's why. I figured I'd better get the hell away for a while. I

think I did the right thing."

"Maybe you did. I've learned a lot since then."

"Like what?"

She moved away from him and over to a wide couch. She plumped down, and

beckoned him to join her.

"Oh, lots of things. Like what a man expects from a girl, and how she

should respond."

He laughed and sank into the cushions beside her. His hand went around

her shoulders, and she leaned to him, her face tilted up invitingly. He

kissed her quickly.

"Maybe I should see how you've changed."

"I haven't changed. I've just improved my education," Suzanne said with

a giggle, her mind picturing her naked body on the floor of her

apartment and Donald's body descending upon her.

"Well, I've had a few experiences myself," said Sam, his hand moving

over to her breast and taking it gently in his fingers. "So maybe we've

both grown up a little."

"Not a little," she replied, feeling her loins responding to his gentle

caressing. "A lot."

Hungrily, she closed her mouth over his, and as their tongues met she

slid her fingers between his legs and gripped his hardening shaft. As

their tongues ravenously explored each other's mouths, Suzanne felt her

emotions rising as her fingers felt his penis stiffen and throb. She

reached for his zipper, and a few seconds later his naked organ was

exposed, and her hand was holding it, her mind reeling under the impact

of its size and thickness.

He broke away and leaned his head back against the couch, his eyes

closed. He sighed ecstatically as he felt the surge of sensation

through his groin as her fingers expertly pulled his foreskin back and

forth over the head of his penis.

"Suzanne ... Suzanne," he breathed.

She felt the tiger inside her straining to break loose, and then it

happened; she felt a shiver through her body, and her emotions rose as

she lowered her head with a rush and closed her lips around the end of

his shaft, sucking hard and firmly. Her fingers pushed into his pants

and pulled out his balls and began fondling them, rolling them in her

hand. She gloried in their size, and she felt her vagina oozing juices

in anticipation of receiving that thick, long phallus in its hot,

hungry cavern.

He groaned, and she felt his rod flex in her mouth. Her tongue flicked

across the end of his glans, probing his wide cockslit, and her mouth

moved up and down, taking his length all the way until she felt the end

ram into her throat.

"Easy, easy," he whispered. "You'll make me come."

She raised up and stared into his eyes.

"Come, then," she whispered. "I want you to come."

Hungrily she went back to his staff, her fingers massaging the hilt and

his balls while her lips sucked harder and harder. She felt it throb

and expand, and then his hands came down on her head, holding her

firmly as he gasped. She felt a jerk in his hips, and then the sweet,

salty taste of his seed was on her tongue, load after load; she gulped,

swallowed and continued sucking until he relaxed, exhausted, panting,

and he took her head and pulled it up to his mouth, kissing her

violently. Finally they broke apart.

Sam stared at her with wonder in his eyes.

"You have changed," he murmured. "Oh, Suzanne ..."

"I know," she whispered. "That was wonderful."

She went down on him again, sucking the last drops from his tube and

nibbling on his foreskin, biting it gently and pulling it over his

softening shaft, licking underneath it. He groaned and pulled her head

off.

"Wait, wait," he pleaded. "Not so hard."

"What do you mean?" she said teasingly. "Am I too much?"

He laughed. "He's kinda sensitive after he shoots," he explained, and

she giggled.

"Okay, I'll just let him lie in my mouth. Okay?"

She took his rod once more, letting it remain between her lips, feeling

its softness, its thickness, and savoring the taste of his come.

Finally she raised up.

"Okay," Suzanne said brightly. "Now you can take me upstairs to your

room, and I'll really show you something."

He shook his head in amazement and tucked his penis back in his pants.

"I just don't believe it," he said, rising, and pulling her up beside

him. "What's happened to you?"

"I went to Wayne for an education," she said cryptically. "And I've

graduated, that's what."

"It makes me feel you've got a practical education rather than academic

one," he said guardedly.

"Ask no questions, hear no lies," she laughed. "Come on, don't tell me

you prefer a coy virgin who doesn't know how to fuck."

He gasped. "Suzanne!"

"Do I shock you?"

He shook his head.

"No, because I've not exactly been wasting my time in Europe," he said

with a sly grin. "So maybe we can compare notes. In bed, of course," he

added, squeezing her waist and leading her towards the stairs.

"Of course," she echoed. "Where else is there?"

Sam's heart was beating wildly as they entered his room, and he closed

the door and clicked the lock. Suzanne walked over to the bed and

bounced on it.

"Hm, nice and springy," she commented. "Not too much rebound."

"You're too much," he said. "Come on, let me undress you. I've always

wanted to."

"The hell with you," she snapped pleasantly. "Undress yourself. It'll

be quicker, and I want to feel you next to me, Sam." She ran across the

room into his arms. "I want to hold you naked in my arms, and feel you

slide into me, every inch of you. Sam, I want you to fuck me like no

one else you've ever fucked."

He grinned at her.

"The same goes for you, you adorable little hussy," he said, and as he

pulled his shirt off and undid his pants, his eyes gazed eagerly at her

body as it slowly came into view as one by one her garments fell away

until she stood, naked and unashamed before him, her breasts round,

full and luscious, her slender waist and her wide hips with the

enticing dark-blonde bush between her thighs. She noticed his sex

beginning to rise again, and she lay back on the bed, her arms

beckoning, and he came to her, lowering his body on top of hers,

covering her, his penis between her legs and his arms around her.

She shivered as she felt his warm flesh against her own, and she opened

her mouth for his tongue. They clung together, and she moved her hips

under him, her excitement growing as she felt the hair on his chest

rubbing against her nipples.

"Oh, fuck me, Sam, fuck me," she whispered.

He slid his mouth off her cheeks, down across her neck, and enclosed

her breasts in his hungry lips, flicking his tongue across her nipples,

going from one to the other, while Suzanne felt her loins heating up,

the fire in her vagina not to be denied.

"Now, now," she cried out. "I want you in me."

Teasingly, his mouth slid over her stomach, and then with a rush he

buried his face in her bush, her musky odor in his nostrils exciting

him even more than the touch of her flesh.

With his hands he pulled open her crevice, exposing her red-hot flesh.

His tongue found her clitoris, and he licked, and stabs of erotic

arousal suffused her body. She began moving her hips and moaning

loudly.

"More, more, suck it, suck it," she cried out, and his mouth bit her

gently, his teeth closing round the hard nipple of her clitoris while

his tongue went wild on her.

"Please, please," she urged him. "I want it in me, Sam, now, now."

He raised up. His penis was hard and throbbing once more between his

legs, its foreskin stretched back exposing his broad flat red head,

oozing lube from its slit. He threw one leg over her and gently lowered

himself, pressing the end of his cock against her cunt-lips. She moaned

and put her hand down to guide it in, thrilling at the touch of his

size once more.

With a gasp he penetrated her and slid in all the way. As she felt his

maleness enter, Suzanne gave a cry of ecstasy. Her insides convulsed

and she knew the end of his prick was right up at the mouth of her

womb. They fitted, perfectly; they were just the right size. His cock

was everything she had hoped and dreamed it would be. With a sudden

animal violence, she gripped his shaft with her vagina as he began

thrusting in and out of her. She felt his balls slap against her flesh

as he rammed home, deep into her, and her nails dragged across his

back.

Eagerly he lowered his mouth to her breasts and began kissing them as

he continued to move inside her, pushing his rod all the way in, then

slowly withdrawing until it was almost all the way out, then going back

in quickly, all the way. She was writhing in ecstasy, her physical

responses heightened by the knowledge that finally it was Sam on top of

her, finally it was the one she really loved, and they were together,

fucking, not just for the mere animal satisfaction, but because they

loved each other.

She had never known such feelings within her. Even with Clayton's

enormous organ violating her; even Ted or Donald; even the undeniable

delight of Yvonne's tongue; none of these compared with the thrills

that flooded her, knowing it was Sam's penis within her vagina. It was

Sam on top of her. Sam. Sam at last, she breathed, at last.

With a cry, Suzanne lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist,

pushing her hips closer to him and feeling the answering throb of

additional excitement in his cock. Her insides convulsed and her vagina

was wet with her juices as her hands clawed his skin and she felt her

orgasm flood through her. Her mind floated up off the bed; her body

seemed to spin suspended on the tip of his cock, which jerked and

ejaculated its load into her innermost depths. He cried out, moaning

and calling her name, and her throat was dry from the excitement and

her calling out to him. "Oh, Sam, Sam, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me ..."

Slowly they subsided, and she felt him getting soft inside her. He

lifted his head and stared into her eyes.

"Suzanne ..." he breathed. "It's never been like that before."

"Nor me," she replied.

"I love you."

"I know. I love you, too."

They lay still, enjoying the warm afterglow. His penis slid out and he

lay beside her, letting her fingers hold his organ gently, while his

fingers stroked her breasts.

They each had a million questions, but each knew instinctively not to

ask them.

* * *

Mrs. Delacorte bustled into Suzanne's bedroom, where two maids were

busily helping her into her wedding gown.

"Now, there's a bride for you," she said loudly, standing with one hand

on her hip, surveying her daughter with pride. "You look absolutely

ravishing, my dear. You always did look better in white, I think."

Suzanne turned and smiled at her.

"Yes," Mrs. Delacorte said, "It sets off your coloring. You should be

on the cover of McCall's. You look so pure and chaste. The perfect

image of unsullied womanhood."

"Of course, Mother," replied Suzanne.

"Oh, talking of McCall's, the picture in today's paper is really

lovely. Look."

Suzanne took the newspaper and stared down at the picture of herself on

the social page.

"It is nice," she commented.

"Nice? It's beautiful," said Mrs. Delacorte. "But then, you are

beautiful, Suzanne. I'm very proud of you, and so's your father. This

reminds me of my own wedding. It seems so long ago now. Oh, dear, I

mustn't cry, I mustn't. I'll ruin these new lashes." Carefully she

dabbed her eyes with a filmy handkerchief.

"Mother, stop carrying on," said Suzanne. "I'm nervous enough as it

is."

"All right, all right. You almost ready? The car's waiting."

"Yes, I'm ready."

She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. She did look wonderful,

she thought; the bodice fitted her perfectly, showing off her full,

rounded bosom, and the waist tucked in, giving her a perfect figure.

Yes, she did make a wonderful-looking bride. She lifted her head,

turned, and followed her mother down the stairs.

As she was helped into the back seat of the Cadillac, she wondered what

Sam was thinking at that moment. They had seen each other almost daily

since his return, and their relationship had become closer and closer.

She had slept with him almost every night, and with each encounter they

discovered more about each other and the different ways to pleasure

their bodies. Oh, Sam, she thought, you're the greatest lover a girl

could ever want.

The car pulled away from the house, and the trees lining the driveway

became a blur. She was only conscious of the wild excitement within her

and the anticipation of the honeymoon. They had decided to go to

Bermuda for two weeks, and then on to Rio and back through Mexico City.

In all, they planned to be gone a month. "That's enough time to get

acquainted," Mr. Delacorte had said, squashing his wife's notion of a

three-month European tour for them as a going-away present. "After all,

they're not going to be doing much sightseeing. What can you see from a

hotel suite?" Mrs. Delacorte had sniffed and told him not to be coarse.

As the car approached the church in Grosse Pointe, Suzanne saw a small

crowd outside. Her heart beat even faster as she noticed two

photographers standing to one side, their cameras ready in their hands.

The car pulled up slowly, and her father walked down from the steps to

help her out. There were gasps of envy from the women, and some man

gave a low whistle. Suzanne grinned up at Mr. Delacorte, who nodded his

approval.

"I'm happy for you," he whispered.

"Thanks, Daddy," she replied, and together they walked into the church,

her lace veil and train billowing in the slight breeze.

The ceremony was brief, and Suzanne was not aware of anything but Sam's

firm hand on her own and his deep voice repeating the vows after he

minister.

"You may now kiss the bride,"

She felt Sam's soft lips on her own, a quickly her tongue licked his,

and then they separated, flushing, and turned to walk down the aisle.

On either side she saw the admiring glances of her friends, the smiles

and whispered words of congratulation, and she felt a warm glow within

her. She held on to Sam tightly, conscious that the strain was

beginning to tell. It would soon be over and they would be away, alone

again.

They paused at the entrance, and the photographers were standing there.

The barrage of flashbulbs blinded her for a moment, and then the hail

of rice descended and the excited shouts of the crowd gathered there.

Sam helped her down the steps, afraid she might trip on her dress.

Suzanne bent down and took the end of it, placing it over her arm. She

raised up, and her eyes met another pair among the crush of people, a

pair of blue eyes that stared at her with incredible longing and

incredible sadness. She felt a stab within her heart, and she paused,

unable to move, her attention held by the intensity of the gaze that

burned from the youthful features. She felt herself unable to take

another step, and was dimly aware of Sam's hand on her arm, pulling her

forward, but her feet seemed riveted to the sidewalk.

"Come on," whispered Sam, and then he saw her expression. "You all

right?"

She nodded vaguely, conscious of the sad young face in the crowd which

threatened to burst into tears any second. The mouth quivered and

formed the words: "I love you." She felt her catch in her throat.

"Oh, Donald," she whispered inaudibly to herself, and then she stepped

forward, clinging to Sam's arm. As they climbed into the car, she felt

the wetness on her own cheeks. Sam put his arm around her shoulders and

sudden concern showed on his face.

"Darling, you're crying."

Slowly the car pulled away and drove quickly up the street, leaving

behind the excited throng, cheering and waving hands excitedly, and one

lonely young boy, standing apart and alone, his eyes blurring as he

watched the limousine disappear around a corner.

The End