At first he had tried to pass it off as concern for Llona's virginity. But then he had confessed the real reason to her. It was the fact that he himself was a virgin and afraid that had stopped him.
Llona had laughed at him. He'd become angry, and they'd quarreled. But then her attitude had changed. The quarrel was smoothed over. And she'd convinced him that it would be to their mutual pleasure to make love and shed their virginity together. Sweetly, she'd calmed George's fears, and they had set out toward this goal together.
It was just within reaching distance when Llona's father had come home unexpectedly and discovered them. Rufus Mayper hadn't hesitated. He'd fetched his shotgun, pointed it at a spot dead-center between George's eyes, and told him that he'd be happy to pay for the wedding, but the Rutherford family would have to supply the liquor.
George had readily agreed. Actually, he was relieved at the idea of having the expression of his lust toward Llona legitimatized. But not so Llona. That very night she'd run away from home to keep from being forced to marry George.
Some three months later Llona had returned. Not long after, George started dating her again. She still turned him on as much as she ever had. However, during her absence, George's virginal state had remained unchanged and his basic timidity-which was the quicksand upon which the liberties Llona allowed him to take rested-remained likewise. Facing up to it, George decided that he'd be much more effective marrying Llona than he could ever be seducing her. Still, there was one nagging question which had bothered him. It made him equivocate when he put his intentions into words.
"I want to marry you," he had informed Llona. "Maybe."
" 'Maybe' meaning if you're sure I'm still a virgin," Llona had guessed correctly.
George had admitted that was indeed the reason. He'd told her he just wouldn't feel right taking a wife who had more experience than he had. Llona had been understanding. She'd assured George that she was still a virgin. And she'd offered to let him prove it to his own satisfaction in the only way that it was provable.
George had taken her up on her offer. Right then and there, in the parlor of the Mayper home, he'd started to make love to her. He'd gone just far enough to determine that she had indeed been telling the truth when his own imminent destruction of the evidence was prevented by Rufus Mayper's once again chancing on the scene.
It was a repetition of what had happened before. Out came the shotgun and the discussion of wedding plans was begun. Only this time Llona hadn't run away. This time she had gone through with the wedding.
This very afternoon George and Llona had been joined in holy matrimony. And now George wanted nothing so much as to rezipper his pants without snagging that most needed for the wedding night ahead of him, collect his bride, bid a fast goodbye to the guests at the reception, and get her off to their honeymoon hotel room where he could finish that which they had twice started together. So George wasted no more time on recriminations toward the treacherous zipper. He finished dressing quickly and went looking for his bride.
"I saw her going into her room," someone in the crowded hallway told him.
George knocked at the door. There was no answer. He knocked again. Still no answer. Finally he turned the knob hesitantly and opened the door a crack. It seemed empty.
"I'm sure she went in there," his informant told him. "Maybe she's in the bathroom."
George shrugged, went into the bedroom, and closed the door behind him. "Llona," he called. Still no answer. He crossed over to the bathroom and looked inside. It was empty. "Llona?" he called again. Silence. Scratching his head, George started for the door to the walk-in closet.
"Yes, George?" Her voice came quickly with his first step in the direction of the closet.
"Where are you?"
"I'm in here deciding on a dress to wear."
"Oh." Again he started for the closet.
"Don't come in here!"
"Why not?"
"I'm not dressed."
"Well, so what?" George's voice was broadly teasing. "We're married now. Aren't we?"
"Please, Jaw-urge!" Panic made Llona's voice skid up the scale of his name.
But George missed it. "Don't be coy," he said, taking another step toward the closet.
"Don't you dare! I haven't got a stitch on!"
"Well, what the devil are you doing in that closet naked?"
"Looking for something to put on. I told you. Now go away. You're embarrassing me."
"How can I be embarrassing you? We're all alone, aren't we?"
"Of course we are." There was just the hint of a "half-hysterical giggle in Llona's voice. "Now will you please get out of here so I can get dressed!"
"Oh, all right. Don't know what you're being so cutie-cute about, anyway," George grumbled. "I'll wait in the hall." The bedroom door closed behind him.
"Phew!" The sweat was pouring off Archer. "That was a close one."
"Well, you can't blame poor George," Llona said protectively. "After all, I am his bride."
"Yeah," Archer agreed. "Which brings up some interesting questions."
"Oh, I can imagine what you must be thinking. I know how it must, seem to you. Like I'm the world's worst tramp."
"Not at all, lady. After what just happened, I'd be a downright ingrate to have any such thoughts. I'm just curious about why you married him if you planned to- I mean if you-"
"I didn't plan anything," Llona defended herself. "And I married George for the same reason that what happened between us happened. I may have been a virgin until just now, but let me tell you that I was the most reluctant virgin that ever drew breath. My body was just yearning to be put to use. A few months ago I even ran away from home and tried to become a prostitute just so I'd be able to relieve my frustration."
"I'd say that should have relieved it, all right," Archer granted.
"Well, it didn't. My very first night on the job everything went wrong. I went to this man's hotel and before we could do anything the hotel detective was pounding on the door and I ran naked into the bathroom and then he opened the door to the bathroom and I ran out the other door and I spent the whole night running around that hotel stark naked. Oh, it was just awful. And the worst of it was that when it was over my virginity was still intact and I was more frustrated than ever. That's why I finally agreed to marry George. At least he was a man. But when I found you in the closet and I felt the way your eyes were devouring my naked body-"
"Eyes can't devour," Archer interrupted her. "Certainly not when they're as scared as mine were."
"It's just a simile, or a metaphor, or whatever-I never can keep them straight. Anyway, when I saw you there like that, I just got carried away. All I knew was that I had to have you right then and there. But I didn't plan it."
"Okay. These things happen. Not usually on the bride's wedding day, but they do happen. And I'm certainly not complaining. It was superb."
"That's the whole trouble," Llona wailed. "It was superb! And now I have to go with George and make love with him and I just know it can't ever be that good. My whole life it will be like that. I'll always know that the best lovemaking I ever had was on my wedding day with a man who wasn't my husband, a total stranger, not even an invited guest, a reception-crasher whose name I don't even know."
"My name is Archer." He tried to soothe her.
"Archer?" She composed herself. "Is that your first name, or your last name?"
"Hey, Llona!" George had opened the door to the bedroom again and poked his head inside. "Will you get through in that closet and get dressed? Folks are waiting to congratulate us."
"In a minute," Llona called back. "Make my excuses for me like a darling, will you? I'll be right out."
The bedroom door closed.
"I've got to hurry and dress," Llona told Archer. "You stay here until after I go down. Then you can sneak out."