George crossed over to the couch and perched beside her. He shot her a shy smile.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me hello?” Llona asked.
George kissed her. Llona wrapped her arms around his neck and held the kiss a long time. While it lasted, she guided his hands over her body, making sure that he appreciated the warmth of her breasts.
He did. When the kiss was over he had hold of both of them—-the right one as well as the left — and he showed no signs of relinquishing his grip.
“Do you like the way I feel, George?” Llona asked softly.
“I sure do.” He squeezed gently and then bent to kiss her neck.
“Wouldn’t you like it even more this way?” Llona pulled the drawstring of her blouse and the material fell away from her breasts.
She wasn’t wearing a bra. George gasped as the large, round orbs sprang into view. He reached for their long, scarlet tips like an underprivileged child grabbing for candy. “Yeah!” he said fervently as they quivered in his hands.
Llona kissed him again, hungrily, her tongue darting between his lips. She pulled her body along the couch until she was sitting on his lap. Her skirt was well up over her knees now, but she made no move to pull it down. Instead, she drew one of George’s hands to her bare thigh.
George found the flesh burning under his touch. Manfully, he inched his hand higher, and Llona’s thighs parted at the movement. When the hand found its mark, her own hand closed over it and held it firmly in place as she writhed passionately.
Finally, unable to contain herself any longer, she scrambled off his lap and knelt on the couch beside him. She bent over and her trembling fingers fumbled with the buttons of his pants. Suddenly, he pushed her hand away and stood up.
“What’s the matter?”
“Wait a minute, Llona.”
“What do you mean? Wait for what?”
“Just wait. Let’s not do anything hasty.”
“Don’t you want me, George?” she demanded.
“Sure I want you. Only-—-”
“Only what?”
“Well, the truth is, Llona, that night your father caught us and was gonna make me marry you, I was glad.”
“What do you mean? What’s that got to do with tonight?”
“I mean I still want to marry you. Maybe.”
“What do you mean ‘maybe’?”
“Depends on what happened while you was away.” George hung his head.
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Everything. I know you never—that is, you was a good girl up until that time. I know it because I’m the only one you would have-—well, you know what I mean. But I don’t know what you might have done while you was in Caldwell.”
“What? Well of all the—! George, how do you dare question what I did? After all those girls you said you had!”
“I never had ’em. I only said that the other night because I figured you got so experienced while you was away. I didn’t want you to think I was an innocent jerk.”
“But you are!”
“Yep. I guess I am.”
“You never had a girl. Is that it, George?”
“Never. That’s it.”
“Then why don’t you take advantage of your chance right now?” Llona wanted to know.
“ ’Cause I want to marry you. Maybe.”
“ ‘Maybe’ meaning if you’re sure I’m a virgin.”
“Yep.” George stared down at the tops of his shoes. “I know it ain’t noble, but that’s the way I feel about it.”
“‘But George,” Llona told him softly. “How are you ever going to know that unless you find out for yourself?”
“You’re right.” He thought about it. “Yeah. You’re right sure enough. If I married you first, then it would be too late if you wasn’t.”
“That’s right. So don’t you think you should find out first?”
“You mean right now?”
“Why not?” Llona shoved him gently back on the couch and began undoing the buttons to his pants again.
A few moments later she was sprawled out on the couch with her skirt pushed up over her waist. George, his pants down around his ankles, was straddling her. “Now, George!” she panted and he moved to comply.
“YOU STOP THAT!” It was a roar from the doorway. Llona’s father stood there, shaking with rage.
George tumbled to the floor.
Llona hastily pulled down her skirt.
“I s’pected you’d be at it again soon as my back was turned,” her father shouted. “So I come home early to see if I was right. An’ I sure was. Only this time you ain’t runnin off, missy. This time you ain’t gettin’ away with it, young feller. This time you two’s gettin’ married!”
Llona had the sensation of living through history repeating itself. Only this time she was a little older and a little smarter. “All right, Pa,” she said. “It’s all right with me if it’s all right with George.”
“It dang well better be all right with George!” her father said grimly.
“As a matter of fact,” George said, “it is.” From the way he spoke it was obvious that he wasn’t saying it because he was intimidated.
“All right, then,” Llona’s father said. “Then it’s wedding bells for you two and the sooner the better. It ain’t safe to leave you walkin’ around single!”
They set the wedding date that night. Less than a month later Llona walked down the aisle on her father’s arm. She walked back up the aisle on George Rutherford’s arm—as his wife.
It was wonderful, and when it was over, she cuddled in her husband’s arms and remembered the silly off-color ditty the girls used to sing back in high school. She hummed it to herself and as she did so she found herself rephrasing the words. The result went like this:
“I ’m glad that I ’m a respectable witch.
I’ll always be poor; I’ll never be rich.
I’ve learned my lesson; I’ll always do right.
’Cause the hardest work is to play all night!”
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven.
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven