"Just how patient does the bride have to be?" Llona wondered.
" 'The importance of slowly building to the sex act itself through considerate pre-coital technique cannot be stressed too much… ' "
"The hell it can't!"
"What did you say?" George looked up.
"Nothing. Skip it." Llona sighed and resigned herself to being patient. "I sure am glad your hiccups are all gone, anyway," she told George.
" 'In most females the earlobes and the nape of the neck are highly erogenous zones and it is permissible to bestow small kisses and little love-nibbles on these areas during the early petting stages… "'
"Thanks be for permissible-ness!"
George kissed Llona's left earlobe and stroked the nape of her neck.
"Hey!" she giggled. "That tickles."
" 'Once this has brought a measure of arousal to the female, the male may proceed to the more directly erogenous areas, such as the breasts. He may caress them and fondle them as freely as his bride willingly permits. However, should she shy away from his touch, he should not press her. The breasts of many females are extremely sensitive, and a bride's reaction to having them touched may be understandably negative. Care should be taken not to prematurely shock the young bride… '"
"I'm not shocked! I'm not shocked!" Llona held on to George's ears so that his mouth stayed fastened to the tip of her breast.
" 'Ig mi thed b'deebed eggsbeadied do-'" George managed to pull loose. " '-determine if the bride's arousal
has reached the lubricative point enabling coitus to proceed. If she voices no objection, the groom should rest his hand lightly on the exterior portion of her sex organs and-'"
"No objection!" Llona bounced eagerly. "No objection!"
"'-if he finds a moistness there indicative of easy access, he may then gently attempt to pry apart the lips of the vagina with the tips of his fingers, all the while being sensitive to any negative response on the part of his bride
Llona thrust downward, almost enveloping George's whole hand in her eagerness.
" 'If the manual manipulations have elicited no negative reactions, then the time has come to engage in the actual sex act… "'
"At last!" Llona bounced up and down rhythmically.
" 'But first a word of caution…"'
"Oh, no!"
" 'It has doubtless been decided before whether or not the couple wishes to practice birth control. Taking no moral stand on this, the following advice is solely for the benefit of those couples who had decided affirmatively. Now is the time when the bridegroom who has come to such a decision with his bride must call a halt in the love-making proceedings and attend to the mechanics involved in exercising such a precaution…"'
"Only sensible, I guess," Llona granted grudgingly.
" 'It is during the pause this necessitates that many bridegrooms become aware of their own nervousness… "'
"Are you nervous, George?" Llona asked.
"Not at all… Hie!"
"Oh, no! Don't tell me they're back. George, face it. You are nervous. And that's what's causing the hiccups!"
"Nonsense!… Hie!" Grimly, George resumed
reading aloud to cover up the hiccups. " 'Since the birth-control (hie!) device may arouse fears in the bride, the groom (hie!) should endeavor to keep it from her sight… ' " George turned away from Llona as he fished the little tinfoil packet from the pocket of his pants. " 'Care should be taken (hie!) to remove the protective covering from the device itself without (hie!) damaging it… "' George muttered under his breath as he read the words. Then, cautiously, he peeled away the tinfoil. "'The birth-control device (hie!) should be unrolled to its full (hie!) length and examined carefully for any defects (hie!)…'" George followed instructions, his back to Llona. '"Since the tiniest aperture (hie!) may prove disastrous (hie!), and since it may not be detected by the (hie!) naked (hie!) eye, further precautions should be taken. The open end (hie!) of the device should be placed to the (hie!) lips and the device should be (hie!) inflated to be sure that no air will escape it. If it is (hie!) airtight, then it should be (hie!) adequate to it's function…"' George puffed out his cheeks and blew mightily.
"George! This is one helluva time to be blowing up balloons!" Anger and impatience made Llona brazen. She tore off her nightgown and threw her naked body across George's lap. "Make love to me!" she panted. "Now!"
George's eyes bulged out at the pulsating pulchritude threatening to overwhelm him. Unthinkingly, he grabbed at it. At the same moment, automatically, he huffed another lungful of air into the already inflated object between his teeth. And then-
"HI-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-ICCCC! Graghfphgh!"
George did not continue to blow into the birth-control device. The sudden powerful hiccup forced him to inhale suddenly instead. The device deflated just as suddenly… and vanished. It took a moment before Llona realized that George was choking on it.
"George!" She sat up erect, alarmed.
"Arrgghpffghh!" His eyes bulged out at her.
"Oh!" What can I do!"
"Gchkparrchgbpggg!" His face turned purple with his inability to suck any air into his lungs.
"Spit it out, George! Try to spit it out!"
"Gpfuigar-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-" It was a death rattle.
"Oh, George!" Llona looked down at him, too shocked to move.
His eyes stared back at her lifelessly. George had choked to death. He was dead!
And thus poor Llona-alas!-was widowed by an attack of hiccups on her wedding night!
Chapter Three
"Born a virgin; Died a virgin; Laid in the grave."
Under the black veil of her widow's weeds, Llona flushed at the remembrance of the old gag epitaph from her high school days. It seemed improper for it to pop into her mind at this particular moment, while she was standing over George Rutherford's grave and watching the coffin containing his remains being lowered into it, but she couldn't help it. Somehow it had just popped into her consciousness with a relevance transcending the proprieties of grief.
The coffin came to rest and the ropes used to lower it were removed. The minister ceased his litany and the other mourners stood back respectfully to allow the young widow to drop a handful of earth atop the casket. Without meaning to, Llona let fall a rather large rock in with the dirt she deposited. It made a loud noise as it hit the coffin lid just above George's lifeless groin. A few of the men winced empathically.
Flanked by her parents, Llona turned then and left the graveside. The group of mourners parted respectfully to allow her a path to the waiting limousine supplied by the funeral home which had handled the arrangements for George's burial. The driver's face maintained its expression of professional mourning as he held the car door open for her. Only a slight glint in his eyes gave him away as he studied the length of Llona's lissome leg when her skirt climbed as she stepped up and into the interior of the car. A moment later the limousine started slowly out of the cemetery.
When they reached home, Llona went directly to her room. "I know how you feel," her mother said sympathetically, "but people will be coming by to pay their respects, and you should really be here to greet them."
"I'll come down in a little while," Llona promised. "I just want to have a little time to myself first."
"Of course, dear." Her mother had sniffled as she watched Llona climb the stairs to her room.
Closing the door behind her, Llona caught her reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall. Damn! She looked so pathetic in the drab black dress and veil. But under the funeral garb, and only half hidden by it, was the body of a young girl, voluptuous, bursting with life, filled with a fire that had burned away all lamentation. Llona knew she was supposed to be grief-stricken. But she just couldn't feel it. All she felt was cheated. She was too young and alive to be a widow. Her body cried out for a kind of release denied by the grave.
Downstairs she could hear subdued murmurs as the first mourners arrived to pay their respects. She ignored the soft sounds. For a moment, while she was alone at least, she just had to shed the garments she couldn't help feeling were marks of hypocrisy and acknowledge to herself the real Llona beneath them.