Zachary closed his eyes and tried to think about soccer. That save that Alex made on Friday night, when they went on to beat Western 2-1. Anything to get his mind off the reason for this social call. But it did no good. He still had an erection.
Not even Madeleine was distracting him. She tried to smooth down his hair in the front, but found it spiked with gel. She withdrew her hand in disgust at the sticky stuff, then tactfully wiped it on the broad leaf of a potted palm that stood in the doorway.
"Why are your eyes closed?" she asked him.
"I’m nervous," he said. The September night was chilly, though Zachary was sweating.
"Never mind that," she said, without the least bit of sympathy. "Do you remember what I told you?"
Zachary nodded. "That as far as I’m concerned, Analiese is a princess, and I’m to treat her mother and father as if they were the queen and king."
"Try not to be making that face when Rosalind answers the door," Madeleine said.
Zachary laughed. Madeleine gave him one of her stern looks, and so he tried to pass it off as a cough. "Wouldn’t you be nervous in my situation?"
"Naturally, I would be," Madeleine said, arching her eyebrows slightly. "Of course, I’m a woman. It’s different for the man."
He almost laughed again. It was difficult for Zachary to think of Madeleine, who had been his nurse since he was a baby, as a woman. Zachary towered over Madeleine, who was petite, with iron-gray hair, clear blue eyes, and fingers slightly bent from her arthritis. He wouldn’t admit to it, but Zachary missed Madeleine already.
A woman of Madeleine’s age answered the door. Her demeanor was as stern as Madeleine’s. Zachary took a step back and studied her face. It was a narrow face, with a long, thin nose and pronounced cheekbones. Her white hair was drawn into a tight bun on top of her head. She was taller than Madeleine by a head, and Zachary thought that she must have been pretty as a girl.
"So this is your boy," Rosalind said flatly to Madeleine.
Madeleine nodded. Zachary was surprised to be so blatantly ignored. This was a formal occasion, and it seemed to him that proper introductions were in order. Rosalind ushered him and Madeleine into the foyer, where she took their coats. When she finished, Rosalind embraced Madeleine, and the two of them began to chat like old friends.
"It’s been many years," Madeleine said. "The last time I saw you, your hair was just turning white."
Rosalind smiled. "It was my Analiese that did this to me. I don’t know what I’m going to do after tomorrow night, Maddie." Rosalind’s hands began to tremble, and she wiped away a tear.
"None of that, now," Madeleine said, embracing Rosalind once again. "Not in front of the boy, anyway."
Rosalind nodded. Her patrician exterior reappeared. She led them down the candle-lit hall, to a heavy wooden door. "Young man, your mother and father are in the sitting room, having a drink with Miss Analiese’s parents. You’re welcome to join them; it’s just through this door. Maddie, if you’re ready, I’ll take you to the young lady."
As Zachary pushed the door open, Rosalind looked at him as though he were something vile. He looked at Madeleine, who mouthed the words, "Stop making that face. Smile."
Zachary didn’t want to go through the door. This whole formality made him uncomfortable. And he was already uncomfortable, what with the erection that would not go away. He certainly didn’t have anything to say to Analiese’s mother and father.
Still, he was raised in a proper household, and respected tradition. Swallowing hard, Zachary pushed open the door and entered the sitting room. He saw his parents, sitting side-by-side on a settee. In a high-backed chair sat a thin, pale woman with gray-streaked black hair and gray-blue eyes. At the sight of Zachary, tears flowed freely from her eyes, and she held a handkerchief under her nose. A tall, thin man stood behind her, patting her shoulders and whispering low words of encouragement to the woman who was surely his wife. These were Analiese’s mother and father.
Zachary pictured his friend and classmate Roan, Analiese’s brother, and saw the correspondence between the father’s features and Roan’s. The father looked at Zachary and frowned.
Zachary’s mother beamed at her son. "Zach, would you care for a brandy?" she said, holding up her empty glass. A servant in a white uniform ran to refill it. A moment later, a second servant handed a full brandy glass to Zachary. He sniffed at it, but didn’t take a sip.
"Analiese’s mother and father are terribly nice people," Zachary’s father said. From his flushed cheeks, Zachary guessed that his father had already finished a glass or two. "Her mother is a little upset at the moment. Perfectly understandable under the circumstances, of course."
If he had anything further to say, Zachary’s father would have been drowned out by Analiese’s mothers loud sobs. When she pulled herself together enough to manage speech, she said, "I just can’t believe the injustice of this formality." She spat the word "formality" as if it were a curse. "The humiliation of it all."
"Come now," Analiese’s father said softly. "It can’t be as bad as all that, my love. You and I went through the same thing, and you survived it." Analiese’s mother began her loud sobbing anew. "And our Rosalind’s prepared her, I’m sure. She is nineteen years old, after all, and hardly a child any longer."
"Easy enough for you to say," Analiese’s mother said. "You’ve never been a woman. You’ve never had to endure the shame. I’m sure Zachary’s mother knows exactly what I mean." She looked imploringly at Zachary’s mother.
"I never underwent the formality myself," Zachary’s mother said. "Before I was married, I moved in quite a different social circle, you see. Where I’m from, these kinds of things aren't done." She gave a timid smile that apologized for her being.
The heavy wooden door swung open again. Rosalind appeared, saying, "Zachary, Madeleine would like to speak with you in the hall."
Analiese’s mother wept as if her heart were breaking. Rosalind escorted Zachary into the candle-lit hall, then up a flight of stairs. Madeleine waited for him on the landing. Her face betrayed no emotion. Rosalind stood by and listened.
"I’ve examined your bride-to-be, Analiese," Madeleine said, "and she is a virgin."
"Uh," Zachary said. "That’s good."
Zachary suddenly felt unprepared. Was there something that he was supposed to say, something he should do with this bit of information? It hadn’t been his choice to get married. He had no say over the arrangement. These things were handled by the parents. Shouldn’t Madeleine be giving the news to them?
These thoughts ran through is mind and then Madeleine lightly placed her hand on his arm. "You could go and talk to her now, if you like. You’ll find her room at the top of the stairs."
Zachary nodded. He started up the stairs, only to have Madeleine grab his elbow. "Only talk," she said. "You’ll be married tomorrow night, and then what you and Analiese do is your business. You’ll keep your hands to yourself. Do you understand me, boy?"
"Yes," he said. Rosalind gave him another of her hard stares, then descended. He climbed the stairs until he found the room at the top. He knocked.
"Come in," Analiese said sweetly.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, folding a white blanket. He guessed that the blanket had been used in the examination. She was fully dressed now, wearing tight-fitting designer jeans and a cream-colored sweater. A string of pearls decorated her neck. Zachary thought she looked very familiar, but perhaps this was only because she resembled Roan.
The scent of Analiese’s perfume hung in the air between them. He may have imagined it, but he thought that underneath the perfume, there was a hint of that secret scent unique to a woman’s body.
"You must be Zachary," she said. She tucked the blanket underneath the stack of pillows on her bed and stood. She took a few steps toward him, stopping short of a normal conversational distance. She avoided looked into his eyes.
"Call me Zach," he said. He tried to get her to look at him directly, but she turned her head. "And you’re Analiese." He thought he should go over and shake her hand, but he had been well-schooled in the rules: no touching, not even her hand.
She nodded. "Roan tells me that you and I used to play soccer together when we were kids."
A sudden flash of Analiese as her awkward, skinny twelve-year-old self flashed through his mind. She’d reminded him of a bird, with her thin legs, her long hair lank and dark as the feathers of a crow, and her large, silver eyes. She hardly looked like the same person at all, now. Now she was a perfectly proportioned woman with clear, soft-looking skin.
"Do you remember?" she asked him.
"You weren’t any good at soccer," he said. Immediately, he wished he hadn’t.
She laughed. "Roan told me that you were a big mook now, with a big, crooked nose and fat lips."
He smiled self-consciously. With his athlete’s body, he must have seemed large, perhaps intimidating, to her. His nose was still crooked from the last time it had been smashed by a soccer ball. And his lips were fat; he couldn’t deny that. The thought that he wasn’t good enough for her made Zachary’s chest ache, just like being punched.
And still, despite the embarrasement, the erection would not go away.
She made herself comfortable, sitting on the edge of the bed. "When Roan told me that," she said, "I thought, 'either Roan is lying just to tease me, or I’m going to marry an ugly man.'"
Great, he thought. This could not possibly get any worse.
"But you know what, Zach? He wasn’t teasing me, and you’re not ugly at all."
He followed her over to the bed. He wanted to sit down, but he hadn’t been invited. "I’m not?"
She traced the outline of his body in the air with her finger. "You’re big, but I like the way you’re put together. Your nose is crooked, but it works for you. And those fat lips are just gorgeous."
Their eyes met, briefly, before Analiese looked away. Zachary closed his eyes, imagining that she might get closer and kiss him. After all, he wasn’t allowed to touch her, but she was free to touch him. He wanted her to. With his whole body, he wanted her to.
She didn’t. As he stood there, eyes closed, he suddenly felt the urge to fill the silence between them. He said the first thing that came to his mind. "Analiese, I want to see for myself." When she looked at him blankly, he added, "That you’re a virgin."
"You have no right to ask me that," she said, though she didn’t sound offended. She was merely stating a fact.
"I know," he said.
"I’m not naive," she said. "I may have only heard it from Rosalind and read it in books, but I know how men work. Right now you’re just asking to look, but in a moment you’re going to want to touch."
"No," he said quickly. "I wouldn’t ask that. I know the rules."
"Didn’t you want me to kiss you, just a moment ago?" He thought she made a little sound, almost a laugh. "Are you a virgin, Zach?"
Her question caught him off guard. "What?" he asked, blinking. Madeleine hadn’t prepared him for this. He’d expected to tell Analiese about himself, but nothing so intimate.
But why not? What was he afraid of? Analiese was going to be his wife. He looked down at her; she was tracing the embroidery on the thigh of her jeans with her finger.
"Sit down," she said. She made another sound that may have been a nervous laugh.
"Really?"
She nodded her head. He sat on the bed, though not near enough to her that he might accidentally touch her. "So," she said, "are you?"
"No," he said. He looked over at her just as she was looking up. She was smiling. Her lips looked as soft as her skin. Would she ever let him kiss them?
"Good," she said suddenly. "One of us should know what we’re doing."
He laughed, so she laughed. "I love your smile," she said.
Zachary relaxed, leaning back on his elbows. Analiese liked him. That was a good thing. He wondered how long he could sit there talking to her, before Madeleine or Rosalind came to retrieve him. Relieved as he was, he wanted to go home. His erection still wouldn’t go away. With beautiful Analiese sitting so near, smelling like perfume and clean skin, running her small white fingers through her raven-dark hair, it demanded his attention. What had been a dull throb was now a screaming ache.
"What’s wrong?"Analiese asked him. "Did I embarrass you, Zach? I didn’t mean too."
"No, you were fine," he said. "We’re getting married, Analiese. You can ask me anything."
She nodded. Her eyes were on her embroidery once again. "Does it hurt?" she asked him.
He watched her hands as she nervously traced the designs on her leg. "I beg your pardon?" he said. "Does what hurt?"
She laughed softly. "You know," she said. "Getting all turned on by a woman you can’t touch."
He looked at her, then down at his shoes. He wasn’t sure how to respond. Then, all at once, she left him no option. Her body closed in the space between them; she was pressed up against him. Her fingers landed in his lap and traced their way up his inseam.
"What?" he asked, almost choking on the words. "What are you doing, Analiese?"
"You asked me to show you that I’m a virgin," she said. "But I don’t think that’s proper etiquette, Zachary. Do you?"
"No," he said, once again feeling as if he were choking. "That was wrong. I’m sorry." He felt the flush in his cheeks. His face was hot, but not nearly so hot as her fingers, pressed against the fabric of his pants. Her fingertips were millimeters away from his cock; did she know that?
"Um hm," she said. "I accept your apology, Zach. The appropriate question now is, will you show me that you’re not a virgin?"
"What?" he repeated hoarsely. For the all the strength with which he’d wished for Madeleine or Rosalind to appear, he now wished they’d leave him alone.
She laughed, clearly and confidently. "You’re going to be mine," she said. "After tomorrow, anyway. It’s only fair, Zach. I had to show that Madeleine everything. Shouldn’t I get to know what I’m getting, too?"
God, he wanted her. He didn’t care what she wanted to do; whatever it was, he was willing. If Madeleine and Rosalind both walked in just then, with Analiese’s parents on their heels, he still wouldn’t be able to stop himself.
"What do you want?" he asked her, wiping the sweat from his forehead on the back of his hand. "What–exactly?"
"Take it out," she said. Her fingers inched up the fabric of his pants and brushed against the head of his cock. Even through the fabric, her touch sent shivers through his body. He breathed deeply. Analiese kept her eyes down, avoiding looking him in the eye. "Or let me do it."
"No," he said. If she touched him again, he might come in her hand. What would she think of him then? "I’ll do it. Let me."
She gave him a nod of approval, and he unzipped the pants. He was so hard, it took some effort to get the thing out of his pants. He searched her face for a reaction. It was hard to read; Analiese would have been great in a poker game, but he thought she was smiling slightly.
"Are you nervous, Zach?" she asked him. "You’re sweating."
"It’s warm in here," he said. "But, yeah, I’m a little nervous."
"I won’t bite," she said, with a slight giggle. "But now that I’ve got you here, like this, I'm wondering..."
He swallowed. Of course he was sweating; her room was impossibly hot. She must have felt it, too, because she took off her sweater. She folded it neatly and placed it on the bed, on top of the stack of pillows. Underneath, she wore a thin t-shirt the pale color of champagne. Her breasts weren’t large, but they were just right for Analiese’s body.
"Wondering what?" he said. He put his hand on his cock, just holding it. God, if she wasn’t going to touch it, somebody had to.
"What you taste like," she said. "I was wondering what you would smell like, and I know that now. But the taste of you . . ." She crouched down so that she and his cock were at eye level.
"Do it," he said.
She smirked. "You’re hardly in a position to make demands now, are you, Zach?"
"No," he said. "I’m not demanding. I just want you to. I really want you to." He looked over at the door, imagining that he heard footsteps on the stairs. But the sound went away, and Analiese didn’t.
"Rosalind told me that they all taste different," Analiese said. "I’ll never know, though, will I? Do women all taste different, Zach?"
Was there a right answer to this question? Did she really want to know? Judging by the look in her eyes, she did. He told her the truth. "Yes," he said. "All different, but all so good."
She watched his chest rise and fall for a few heartbeats. "Rosalind also said that if you come in my mouth, you’ll taste a little salty, or sometimes a little sweet. I . . ."
She was killing him. No longer able to simply hold his cock, he began to stroke it up and down. Did she know what she was doing to him? Or was Analiese really this innocent?
"What?" he asked her, desperately.
"I want to find out," she said. She’d barely gotten the words out of her mouth before the head of his cock was in it. The inside of her mouth tasted, explored, and spit him out. Zach gasped, on the verge of coming.
"Don’t stop," he said. "Please."
Analiese smirked again. "I don’t think I’ll be the kind of wife who will take demands," she said. "Lucky for you, I like the way you taste. And the curiosity is eating me up inside. I’m not going to stop, but only because I don’t want to stop."
He pulled his hand away and let her lick her way up from the base of his cock to the head. By the time she got there, he’d had all that he could stand. As if by instinct, she knew just when to wrap her lips around the head. He watched her cheeks draw in, then puff out, watched her swallow his come. He couldn’t suppress a loud groan.
Analiese, crouched, rocked back on the balls of her feet. Her full-lipped smile shone, prominent on her face. "You taste good," she said.
Zach tucked his flaccid cock back in his pants and zipped up. "Analiese," he said, pushing himself to his feet. "Analiese, I think I love you."
She laughed again, though this time it was a purely joyful sound. "That’s good," she said. "At least one of us should be in love. You should probably go now, Zach. We don’t want our parents to think we’re doing anything wrong."
"No," he said, still trying to catch his breath. "I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess."
"Yes," she said. "At the altar."
Suddenly, he couldn’t wait.
Originally published February, 2008