Sonny sighed with relief (с облегчением). He winked at Lucy (подмигнул). "Yeah, Tom, what is it (что случилось, в чем дело)?"
Hagen's voice, still low, said, "The Don wants you in his office. Now." They could hear his footsteps (шаги) as he walked away. Sonny waited for a few moments, gave Lucy a hard kiss on the lips, and then slipped out the door after Hagen.
Lucy combed her hair (причесала [k∂um]). She checked her dress (проверила /в порядке ли/) and pulled around her garter straps (подтянула подвязки; garter – подвязка; strap – ремешок, завязка). Her body felt bruised (помятым: to bruise [bru:z] – ушибать, ставить синяки), her lips pulpy (размягченные; pulp – мягкая масса) and tender (нежные = ранимые, болезненные). She went out the door and though she felt the sticky wetness (липкую влагу; to stick – приклеивать, липнуть) between her thighs she did not go to the bathroom to wash but ran straight on down the steps and into the garden. She took her seat (заняла место) at the bridal table next to Connie, who exclaimed petulantly (воскликнула нетерпеливо, раздражительно ['petjul∂ntlı]), "Lucy, where were you? You look drunk (выглядишь пьяной). Stay beside me now."
The blond groom poured Lucy a glass of wine (налил [po:]) and smiled knowingly (понимающе). Lucy didn't care (ей было наплевать: «не заботилась»). She lifted the grapey (виноградное; grape – виноград, гроздь винограда), dark red juice (темно-красное вино; juice [dGu:s] – сок; алкоголь) to her parched mouth (к пересохшему рту; to parch – иссушать, испепелять) and drank. She felt the sticky wetness between her thighs and pressed her legs together. Her body was trembling (дрожало). Over the glass rim (край, ободок), as she drank, her eyes searched hungrily (выискивали жадно) to find Sonny Corleone. There was no one else she cared to see. Slyly she whispered in Connie's ear, "Only a few hours more and you'll know what it's all about («о чем это все» = что это такое /заниматься любовью/)." Connie giggled. Lucy demurely (скромно, кротко = с притворной скромностью; demure [dı’mju∂] – скромный, сдержанный, рассудительный; притворно застенчивый) folded her hands (сложила) on the table, treacherously triumphant (предательски торжествующая ['tret∫∂r∂slı] [traı’Lmf∂nt]), as if she had stolen a treasure (как будто она украла сокровище ['treG∂]) from the bride.
Lucy Mancini lifted her pink gown off the floor and ran up the steps. Sonny Corleone's heavy Cupid face, redly obscene with winey lust, frightened her, but she had teased him for the past week to just this end. In her two college love affairs she had felt nothing and neither of them lasted more than a week. Quarreling, her second lover had mumbled something about her being "too big down there." Lucy had understood and for the rest of the school term had refused to go out on any dates.
During the summer, preparing for the wedding of her best friend, Connie Corleone, Lucy heard the whispered stories about Sonny. One Sunday afternoon in the Corleone kitchen, Sonny's wife Sandra gossiped freely. Sandra was a coarse, good-natured woman who had been born in Italy but brought to America as a small child. She was strongly built with great breasts and had already borne three children in five years of marriage. Sandra and the other women teased Connie about the terrors of the nuptial bed. "My God," Sandra had giggled, "when I saw that pole of Sonny's for the first time and realized he was going to stick it into me, I yelled bloody murder. After the first year my insides felt as mushy as macaroni boiled for an hour. When I heard he was doing the job on other girls I went to church and lit a candle."
They had all laughed but Lucy had felt her flesh twitching between her legs.
Now as she ran up the steps toward Sonny a tremendous flash of desire went through her body. On the landing Sonny grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hall into an empty bedroom. Her legs went weak as the door closed behind them. She felt Sonny's mouth on hers, his lips tasting of burnt tobacco, bitter. She opened her mouth. At that moment she felt his hand come up beneath her bridesmaid's gown, heard the rustle of material giving way, felt his large warm hand between her legs, ripping aside the satin panties to caress her vulva. She put her arms around his neck and hung there as he opened his trousers. Then he placed both hands beneath her bare buttocks and lifted her. She gave a little hop in the air so that both her legs were wrapped around his upper thighs. His tongue was in her mouth and she sucked on it. He gave a savage thrust that banged her head against the door. She felt something burning pass between her thighs. She let her right hand drop from his neck and reached down to guide him. Her hand closed around an enormous, blood-gorged pole of muscle. It pulsated in her hand like an animal and almost weeping with grateful ecstasy she pointed it into her own wet, turgid flesh. The thrust of its entering, the unbelievable pleasure made her gasp, brought her legs up almost around his neck, and then like a quiver, her body received the savage arrows of his lightning-like thrusts; innumerable, torturing; arching her pelvis higher and higher until for the first time in her life she reached a shattering climax, felt his hardness break and then the crawly flood of semen over her thighs. Slowly her legs relaxed from around his body, slid down until they reached the floor. They leaned against each other, out of breath.
It might have been going on for some time but now they could hear the soft knocking on the door. Sonny quickly buttoned his trousers, meanwhile blocking the door so that it could not be opened. Lucy frantically smoothed down her pink gown, her eyes flickering, but the thing that had given her so much pleasure was hidden inside sober black cloth. Then they heard Tom Hagen's voice, very low, "Sonny, you in there?"
Sonny sighed with relief. He winked at Lucy. "Yeah, Tom, what is it?"
Hagen's voice, still low, said, "The Don wants you in his office. Now." They could hear his footsteps as he walked away. Sonny waited for a few moments, gave Lucy a hard kiss on the lips, and then slipped out the door after Hagen.
Lucy combed her hair. She checked her dress and pulled around her garter straps. Her body felt bruised, her lips pulpy and tender. She went out the door and though she felt the sticky wetness between her thighs she did not go to the bathroom to wash but ran straight on down the steps and into the garden. She took her seat at the bridal table next to Connie, who exclaimed petulantly, "Lucy, where were you? You look drunk. Stay beside me now."
The blond groom poured Lucy a glass of wine and smiled knowingly. Lucy didn't care. She lifted the grapey, dark red juice to her parched mouth and drank. She felt the sticky wetness between her thighs and pressed her legs together. Her body was trembling. Over the glass rim, as she drank, her eyes searched hungrily to find Sonny Corleone. There was no one else she cared to see. Slyly she whispered in Connie's ear, "Only a few hours more and you'll know what it's all about." Connie giggled. Lucy demurely folded her hands on the table, treacherously triumphant, as if she had stolen a treasure from the bride.