Title: Walter and Mariel: 2. Andante Amoroso
Author: Mary Mastrangelo
Series: Walter and Mariel
Rated: PG
Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, Skinner and Co. belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. Used without permission and without intention to infringe copyright. All characters and background not already established on the television series are my own invention. Dr. Mariel Fraser-Skinner is my creation and may not be used without my permission.

Summary: While on their honeymoon trip, Walter and Mariel Skinner begin to share the depths of their feelings for each other.

This is the first sequel to "Da Capo" and is a Walter and Mariel honeymoon story. Be prepared for romance, but, as usual, nothing terribly graphic. Just two newly-married people in love.


In an Airplane above New Mexico
Early Morning

Flipping open the small screen, he decided that the term "laptop computer" was a misnomer. This one did not fit in his lap. Of course, it might fit better if part of his lap wasn't already occupied by a hand that rested warmly on his knee.

Walter Skinner studied the hand with an inward smile. Creamy skin, long, strong fingers tipped with short, nicely-shaped nails that were tinted a soft pink - A hand just made for mine - he thought, and reached around the laptop screen to close his fingers around hers. The gentle squeeze woke Mariel, and she stirred in the narrow seat beside him.

"M-m-m, are we there?" she murmured, stretching as well as she could in the cramped airline seat.

"Another hour, I think," he replied, raising a hand to draw her face close to his. She was still a little sleepy; her kiss was drowsy and sweet-tasting - I'll never need anything to calm me besides kisses like this - he thought.

Blinking herself more awake - oh, my, it was wonderful to wake up to a kiss like that - she glanced down at the laptop. "I thought you said you weren't bringing work along?"

"No, I said that I wouldn't be doing work," he corrected. "I still have to check in."

"Oh. Then while you do that, Assistant Director, sir, I'll go freshen up." She grinned when he winked at her, and felt around in the carry-on tote for her cosmetic bag.

She hated airplane bathrooms: crowded, ill-lit and difficult to maneuver in, they inspired her to finish and get out as quickly as possible. Still, she paused a moment, lip gloss in hand, and stared at her wavery, greenish reflection in the mirror - I look like...like a woman in love - she thought with wonder. In love, and a little bit afraid....

When she headed back, Walter passed her in the corridor, gently and, she thought, deliberately brushing a hand over her bottom as he went by. "Back in a minute." He smiled. By the time she sat down agian, her cheeks were warm as she remembered the ways he'd touched her during their, as of now, fifteen-hour marriage.

And yet, they hadn't been alone since the wedding. Pulling the seat belt tight, she smiled. The smile became a grin as she remembered Walter's look at the reception when her maternal grandmother had literally cornered him by the punch bowl and demanded to know whether he intended to keep her favorite granddaughter satisfied. Mortified then, Mariel couldn't help but laugh now at his jump-off-the-deep-end introduction to her family. He'd been a perfect gentleman about it, too, she recalled, although she could tell at the time that he was struggling against laughter.

Th pilot's landing announcement interrupted her thoughts. She looked out the small window, craning a little to see around the leading edge of the wing. The tract houses surrounding the airport were still there, many with back-yard swimming pools and citrus trees. Off to the right, the blunt, red outcroppings of the Papago Peaks thrust up beside the new freeway that lead to the university.

"Any of it familiar, honey?" Walter asked as he buckled in beside her.

"Some. But I was eleven or so when we came visiting my aunt, so I guess a lot's changed."

"Pretty big airport," he remarked as the plane began its long taxi approach.

When they arrived at the jetway, Mariel stood, straightening her skirt, and reached for her tote. Walter took that hand in his instead, and looked up.

"Are we in a hurry?"

She found his eyes waiting for hers, and bit her lip a little before answering. Before she could speak, he murmured, "Don't do that," and deliberately drew her down toward him. "We don't want your mouth to be bruised...do we?"

The deep, languid voice, the deliberate double meaning sent a shudder through her. She seated herself again and whispered, "Down, boy."

He laughed out loud and hugged her quickly, paying no attention to the glances and stifled smiles from some of the disembarking passengers who were filing out beside his seat.

While they waited, he stroked her fingers, playing with her rings. Mariel watched, glad she hadn't accepted the, to her, gaudy set with a headlight for the central stone that he'd wanted to get her. She chose a more simple set, with a pave' diamond wedding band and a single half-carat diamond engagement ring. His ring was simpler still: a plain, gold band with a woven-effect edging on either side. She thought it looked good on him.

Then it was time to disembark, and they gathered their things.

Walking off the jetway into the terminal, Mariel settled her purse on her shoulder and looked around. One big airport looked like another, she thought. Passengers lining up for boarding passes before filing into separate lounge areas for each flight; little shifting knots of people greeting or parting; tinny, half-incomprehensible PA announcements; overhead displays of arrival and departure times. Falling into stride beside Walter, she saw that the airport snack stand of her younger days had been replaced with franchise outlets of about every fast-food chain in existence.

And there were some things that reminded her that this was Phoenix. Touches of copper and turquoise; souvenir stands selling silver and turquoise jewelry, sweet cactus candy and bolo ties; a large display of kachina dolls from a famous private collection.

Walter's warm whisper against her left ear broke her thoughts. "Other side, Mariel," he murmured.

She nodded once, made her movement over to his left side as inconspicuous and natural as possible. She was learning. Then it was her turn to whisper in his left ear, "Are you packing?"

"Of course," he replied, in the same tone he'd use if the question was whether he put on underwear in the morning. Walter was thankful that Mariel didn't make an issue of his wearing of a weapon. Of course, some of her family members were in law enforcement and the military, and she herself was a pretty good shot with a .45.

"I'll take you to the Bureau range when we get home," he said. "I want you to get used to a 9mm."

She looked at him. The light reflecting off his glasses obscured his eyes some until he turned his head toward her. "I hope to God you never need it," he went on quietly, "but I think you should know how it feels."

"O.K." When Walter used that tone she knew he was dead serious. She realized, too, that the wife of the bureau's assistant director had to keep on top of more things than just their social appointments.

Sets of long moving walkways finally brought them to paired escalators separated by a wide stairway. "See you at the top," he said, taking the stairs as she headed for the escalator. She smiled, knowing he'd walk up: five hours jammed into an airplane seat was torture for him.

The short ride up gave her a moment to relax. An afternoon wedding, dinner reception, and late-night flight out had made for a hectic and tiring day. She smiled a little, remembering his quizzical look when she'd asked him to stop at a downtown church so they could attend a late vigil Mass for Sunday - for today, that was. He'd taken her with good humor, though, after she reminded him that attending Saturday night would leave their whole Sunday free. And here they were, married...let's see...sixteen hours by D.C. time, and the day still ahead of them.

Walter was waiting for her at the head of the escalator. "Next stop, baggage and rental cars," he smiled as she stepped off.

They had to wait at the counter, of course, to sign documents and accept the rental agreement. Then the counter agent pointed them toward an exit. "Just go out those doors, follow the walkway and take the elevator to level two. Your car is in slot B24. Have a nice stay."

Same to you, Mariel thought with an inward grin.

Outside, Walter glared at yet another moving walk. "Don't they think we have legs?"

She pushed him gently toward the walk. "Walt, not everyone has strong arms like you do to carry bags. Stand and enjoy."

"All right," he smiled back, feeling a little flattered whether she'd intended that reaction in him or not. He certainly hoped that she considered him strong and...well...capable, virile...He almost laughed at the direction his thoughts were going - Down, boy - he admonished himself - You've got a couple hours' drive ahead of you, still - Though open to the air, the rental car garage still smelled of oil and exhaust fumes. In slot B24 was a silver-grey Buick Regal(r). Looking in the passenger window while Walter stowed their luggage, Mariel remarked, "I see you like your comforts, Mr. S."

He looked up with a lazy smile, closing the trunk. "You'll find out, Mrs. S."

She shivered a little. That slow, languid voice again....Then he let her in the passenger side before getting in himself.

He took time to familiarize himself with the car's controls and adjustments before pulling a map from the glove box. "All right," he said after a moment's look. "We drive north about two, two-and-a-half hours, it looks like, to Sedona."

She leaned over to look, also. "So we're not going the whole way today?"

"No." He refolded the map. When he was finished the map looked exactly as it had before he unfolded it. Mariel blinked. How'd he do that? "I've made reservations for us at someplace I think you'll like." He leaned against her shoulder a little as he put the map away, then smiled. "Who knows, you might decide you don't want to go the whole way after all."

Then, close to her in the shelter of the front seat, he traced a lazy fingertip along her collarbone. "Then again," he continued, voice husky and barely audible, "I think it's high time that we went the whole way, don't you?"

She turned her head toward his face as the double meaning hit her. She'd never seen his eyes so dark and hot, and she realized with a little start that they were really alone for the first time, in an empty garage, sitting in the front seat of their rental car. His hand moved up to cradle her neck, supporting her head as he leaned over to kiss her.

Soon she realized that she was trying to whimper a little, but was unable to make a sound past the fierce strength of this kiss. Before, even when their kisses became eager and passionate, she'd felt the underlying tenderness in him. Now, there was only desire, leashed still, but burning him and beginning to ignite her as well. Soon she was kissing him, too, with the same greedy hunger, releasing some of her long-restrained passion at last.

She was beginning to lose track of time and place when Walter pulled back, gasping softly. "Mariel..."

Slowly coming back to sanity, she tried to laugh a little. "Well, I guess that'll last me for a while."

His eyes were softer now, the fire banked again. "It'll have to last me, too, honey," he chuckled, sitting back. "We've got a bit of a drive yet."

He started the car and backed out of the parking slot. Then he braked for a moment, looking over at Mariel. "Welcome to the beginning of our life, Mrs. S.," he said, and winked....


The Freeway North of Phoenix
Early Morning

The freeway entrance was near the main road leading into the airport. Walter had no trouble finding the way, and soon he headed the car north. He didn't bother setting the cruise control, preferring to keep his mind and hands occupied with driving.

Beside him, Mariel had arranged herself comfortably in the fully-adjustable seat, pushing it back far enough so that her long legs could stretch out all the way. There wasn't much to see right now, as the freeway passed through mostly business areas, so she just gazed out the window and thought.

She was surprised and a little embarrased at the way she'd responded to Walter in the garage - Well, for heaven's sake - she scolded herself - he's your husband, Mari. You can respond to him as eagerly as you want. Don't you think that *he* wants that from you? - The truth was, Walter was such a wonderful companion and friend that she sometimes, well, not forgot, but perhaps didn't fully take into account who she was dealing with. He was a strong, virile man, with all of a man's instincts and desires, and if she didn't remember that all the time, she realized that she might be in danger of losing his love.

He'd loved and trusted her enough to offer and promise himself and his life to her, and she'd done the same. And, yes...she wanted him. She understood that, and remembered times during their engagement when she'd found it difficult to part at the end of the evening. Knowing all this, she'd scheduled the wedding for a time when she could be positive she wasn't in the fertile time of her cycle, so she and Walt could have the honeymoon she'd never really dared to dream about.

She laughed a little to herself. At least she knew it would be nothing like what her cousin wrote about in those romance novels: swooning maidens awakened at last to passion by brooding rakes with dark pasts - Oh, my. I'd better stop or I *will* laugh - she thought - and Walt will wonder why I'm sitting here laughing apparently at nothing - Walter drove as he always did, Mariel noticed. He checked the rear-view and side mirrors frequently, changed lanes and altered speed smoothly so the shifts wouldn't be obvious to other drivers. Just in case. She felt a little sad that he still felt the need to drive like this on their honeymoon, of all times, but realized, too, that the pattern was probably as strong a habit as was brushing his teeth.

"Would you like the radio on?" he asked then, glancing over.

"Not now, thanks. I don't know if I could find a classical station, anyway."

"You know, you're starting to get me used to those stations," he smiled. "I draw the line at string quartets, though."

"Good. So do I."

They were out of the valley proper now, the road imperceptibly climbing. Sycamores and cottonwoods began to sprinkle the landscape now in place of the big, arms-stretched-up saguaro cacti. It probably would not be too much longer, she thought, and patted her stomach when it complained very softly.

Her brand-new husband didn't miss a thing. "Want to stop someplace to eat? We might be another hour or more on the road."

"No. I'd rather get there and get settled in before lunch," she said. She reached over to smooth her palm gently along his right thigh, resting it finally on his knee. His eyes widened in surprise and sheer delight at the unexpected touch - Yes, please - he thought - I want you to be comfortable with touching me - His thigh felt hard under her hand, muscles tensed as he drove. "Would you rather I took my hand away?" she asked after a moment, realizing something.

"No." His voice was quiet and deep. "I like it there. And you're not distracting me. At least, not yet."

The thought that she could distract him with just a touch was both exciting and a little scary. To calm her own tiny shiver, she looked out her window and studied the scenery.

The road had narrowed as it continued into the more mountainous country. Not mountains as much as high hills clothed with cedars and sycamores and oaks, the rocks sporting sandstone hues of terra-cota and pale rust. Walter turned off the highway finally, onto a two-lane road that worked its way past a wide, shallow stream where, even at this hour, people were sliding on truck-tire inner tubes over the flat, wet rocks.

"Looks like fun," he chuckled, pointing to the bathers.

"Looks like freezing," she remarked. "I can see their breath from here."

"Ah. You prefer more indoor pursuits right now?"

She looked over, lips parted in surprise, and caught the sparkle. This time she let her own sparkle grow, and deliberately stroked her hand up his thigh. "You'll find out, Mr. S.," she said throatily. When he stared over in genuine surprise, she laughed. "Walt, you won't best me at word games."

"I'm not trying to 'best' you, honey," he said. "Just making you think." He glanced down at his lap. "I do suggest you move your hand, however," he murmured teasingly. "I'd rather not be distracted right now."

"Yes, Assistant Director, sir."

He smiled at her, wondering if his heartbeat could be visible. Walter was happy that Mariel was learning how to relax with him, to banter cheerfully back when he teased her, and to gradually realize the extent of her effect on him.

Walter had not lived like a monk, but he'd never been a "playboy," either. He was considerate and quietly affectionate when he cared for a woman; and even if he was not romantically attracted, he was a good friend. Now, he was prepared to give everything he was into a woman's keeping, and that had never happened before - That's because you never were genuinely in love before - he thought - You are now - Mariel Skinner was filling empty places in his heart that he never knew existed.

Around the next curve, Walter pulled the car off the road onto the narrow shoulder. Mariel gasped at the view that swept open before them in a wide, glorious vista. Red rocks, literally red in the sun, scattered buttes and bluffs of blazing-red sandstone piled and arched and braced the woods and road that wound through them into the distance. Smooth meadows and oak trees relieved the red in places, resting the eyes. And above it all, the cloud-flecked blue sky.

"Walt, it's beautiful!" she breathed, reaching for his hand.

"It's hard to believe that's the natural color of the stone," he said, kissing her hand gently.

"Never mind the science," she laughed. "Let's drive down there."

He drove slowly, both because the road sometimes wound around blind corners, and because they were both amazed by the beauty of this part of the state. Finally Walter turned down a narrow lane that brought them close to an oak-clad butte, and Mariel realized that the low, cream-colored formations she'd taken for boulders were actually buildings. They reminded her of photos she'd seen of cliff dwellings. They seemed to be...Then she saw the inconspicuous sign.

"Walt, this is a resort?"

"Yes. Actually, this is where I made the reservations."

Later, after waiting through the parking and check-in ritual, Mariel entered the room that was theirs. Not a room, though, but an entire small building just for them.

"Like it?" Walter asked from behind her as he closed the door.

"Yes." The bedroom-sitting room was furnished simply, but with touches that reflected the feel of the Southwest. Copper and turquoise in the bedspread, a Navajo blanket for a wall hanging, Hopi pottery and basketwork throughout. An open patio gave a view of the red rock bluffs beyond. "It's cozy."

Walter opened a door to the right and laughed. "Honey, look at this," he called.

She joined him, peeked over his broad shoulders. "Oh, dear. I don't think I'll be using this bathroom."

An enormous bathtub - with strategically placed jacuzzi jets, he noticed - sat in a deep recess before a plate glass window that overlooked the entire canyon. The rest of the bathroom was more, well, standard.

"Oh, I don't know," he said judiciously. "If you leave the lights off at night no one will see you."

"Great," she laughed, turning to him, "then I couldn't see what I was doing."

"I could help you."

About to continue the banter, Mariel paused when she saw how he was looking at her. She looked back, taking in his dark, warm eyes just visible behind the reflection in his glasses, the lines and planes of his cheek and throat, the broad, deep chest that tapered down a little to runner's hips and long, hard-muscled legs. Standing there in jeans and a short-sleeved pullover, he was...She swallowed, unable to think of the right word.

"Yes, I guess you could," she said, then, "Walt, I...I really am hungry."

He smiled - Sweet love, soon you'll be in my arms, and I...I'll be yours at last - "So am I," he replied aloud, after a deep, calming breath. "And after five hours in a plane and two in a car, I need some exercise. Let's eat, and then go walk somewhere."

"I'm game," she smiled back.

After the late lunch, Walter and Mariel walked around Sedona, looking in shops and comparing impressions on what they each liked. Walter took careful mental note of her preferences for future reference. As they walked, Mariel shook her head silently at the crystal shops, "centering" parlors and aura reader advertisements. The town was too New Age-y for her taste, and she was ready to leave when Walter slipped his arm around her waist.

"Time to head back, honey," he said, kissing her forehead. "Since we walked, I want to get back before dusk."...


A Resort outside Sedona, Arizona
Early evening

The road was quiet outside the town, and Mariel leaned against Walter's side as she walked. The sandstone bluffs were an almost unbelievable color under the lowering sun: a hot, rich, nearly irridescent crimson.

"It's beautiful here, Walt," she said softly, and stopped walking. He looked down as she turned, and hugged her warmly, not really caring who might be around to see. She didn't move when he kissed her there on the roadside. Slowly at first, then deeply as her hands slid up to caress his shoulders and upper arms, stroking slowly and tantalizingly over the line of his muscles. After a while, he said, "We won't get back like this."

Mariel tugged his hand, smiling. "Then let's walk faster."

When they got back it was almost dark. Opening the door to their bungalow, Walter reached beyond her shoulder to turn on the light, and they both saw the large basket on the alcove table.

"What's this?" Mariel set down her purse and went to examine the basket. Cheese and fruit, tea crackers and jam, and tucked away in the middle, a bottle of very good wine.

"In case you get hungry later," he smiled over her shoulder, and gently stroked his palms down along her arms and up over the curve of her belly. He was careful not to touch her breasts.

She could feel herself beginning to relax, gentling under the movement of his hands. "What about you?" she asked, leaning back against him.

"I always like a little dessert, honey."

Cheek against her hair, the scent of her perfume warm and spicy in his nostrils, he decided to take a little chance. The next time his hands stroked up her tummy, he let them continue, smoothing warmly over the gentle curves of her breasts. Just once. Her shuddering sigh stabbed through him.

"Walt, you...you know something?" she whispered.

"No, what?"

"This is the first time I've been in a hotel room for the express purpose of having sex."

He chuckled deeply and turned her around to face him. "What a phrase, honey. You're not here to 'have sex.' You're here to share love with your husband of about 28 hours who wants you very much." The last was a whisper in her ear before his lips tugged gently on her earlobe and his mouth wandered down her throat.

He kissed her for a long time, tasting and nibblling, running his tongue in lazy circles and strokes over her warm satin skin. Then he clasped her hands, drew them to the hem of his pullover.

"Help me take this off, please."

"O.K.," she murmured, "but these first." She removed his glasses, reaching behind her to set them on a nightstand. Then she tugged his sweater off, delighted to find bare skin underneath. "You're so nice..." Her voice trailed off and she met the brown eyes that seemed a touch vulnerable without the glasses. "Can I...can I play a little?"

He was surprised that he could force words out. "Please do."

She did, her face soft as she discovered interesting things about her husband's chest and arms - Honey, I wish you could feel what you're doing to me - he thought - Do you really understand it? - Soon he groaned under his breath at the tightness inside him as she took a cue from him, nibbling his throat while her hands continued their play. He pulled her hard against him, molding her body to his, and after a moment she gasped a little, instinctively pressing her hips tighter.

"Oh, my," she whispered. "You're so...well...hard everywhere."

He laughed, very softly, and said, "And you, sweetheart, are a doll. Now, look, it's not fair that I'm standing here half-naked while you have every stitch on."

Her cheeks felt warm, but she nodded gamely and whispered, "Be right back."

"Honey..." Then he paused. If she was more comfortable undressing in the bathroom, that was fine. There was plenty of time for him to help her learn other ways to disrobe. Of course, that bathroom was hardly private, unless you kept the lights off. He smiled and sat down on the bed to pull off his shoes.

Mariel came out soon, wearing a white, mid-thigh length nightgown trimmed at the deep sweetheart neckline and hem by embroidered pink roses. He stood up, heartbeat almost painful in his chest, and reached back to turn off the only light in the room. Now only moonlight glinted off her gown, and she paused, uncertain.

"I'm here, honey," he said softly, moving to take her hands. He kissed her palms, then raised her arms to clasp behind his neck. "Hold me now," he murmured, and she did, although he could feel her muscles quivering against his bare shoulders.

He set himself to soothing her, letting his body warm her and his hands massage her tight muscles. Mariel found it difficult to sort out the flood of emotions within her. Most basic was happiness, of course: the mental and emotional well-being that came from loving and being loved by a man who was such a fine complement to her character and personality. It was the physical side of things that was the most confusing - the sweet messages her body was sending, the breathless tension that seemed to wind tighter and tighter inside her.

Walter looked down at her face. Even though he couldn't see her expression clearly with her back to the moonlight, he sensed that she was joining him now, beginning to drift on the same aching warmth.

He reached up to her hands, drew them down to his belt, saying, "Please."

She heard the warmth in his voice, and was aware that she was trembling. "O.K." It took her a minute, but she managed the belt, then the zipper, and looked up uncertainly.

"More," he whispered, guiding her hands as he showed her how to remove the clothing easily. "Now I'm going to take this off, honey," he continued, "so don't move." He slid his hands down the outside of her legs, then up again beneath the satin gown to the waistband of the little matching panties. He eased the soft fabric down over her hips, and she instinctively stepped out of the garment.

Shivering, so aware of him through the short, thin gown, she realized she had just given him her first intimate surrender. She turned her face into his throat, murmuring, "That was easy. Undressed a lot of women, have you?" Suddenly realizing what she'd said, she felt her face flame to the rush of blood in her cheeks.

"Not so many," he said quietly, and reached for her. Cradling her face in gentle hands, voice low and tender, he said, "And now, for always, not anyone but you."

Deeply aroused by her, by the sweet, clean taste of her mouth and skin, the warm silk of her body beneath his hands, the surrender that he knew was for him alone, he kissed her, his warm, wet tongue urging her mouth and tongue to follow him, now. When his fingertips pressed upward to her breasts, her strong body ignited at last, answering his passion with her own greedy strength.

She was panting when he lifted his face. "Come on, honey," he chuckled softly, "it's time I took my wife to bed."

The pant became a gasp of surprise as he lifted her up into his arms. Clutching his neck reflexively, she gasped again, "Walt, careful! I'm not five feet tall and 90 pounds."

He laughed. "You may not have noticed it, honey, but I'm a pretty big man."

Walter laid her easily onto the cool, soft sheets. The gown bunched up high on her legs but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered to either of them except the other, and the delight each was anxious now to share. Kisses and murmurs and the sweet, soft sound of lips parting from lips, from warm smooth skin...and his mouth at last on the hot, swollen tips of her breasts.

Yes, the same feelings, the same delicious tightening inside her - but now, the feelings were right for her to enjoy and find pleasure in, and he was hers to embrace, hers to love and enjoy and draw into the sweet, yielding body that was his, only his. Mariel would not have believed that a man could be so gentle and so slow and yet...oh, dear God...and yet claim her body and her heart so deeply and so blissfully.

She didn't know why she was crying. There'd been only a little pain, and that was fading. She lay with her tear-wet face pressed into his neck, breathing in the human smell of his male body, of sweat and love and the far-off, musky hint of the cologne she'd given him. He didn't ask her what was wrong, or tell her to stop crying. He just held her, stroking her face and the soft swell of her bottom, kissing her wet cheeks and her eyes until the tears were finished.

He smiled down into her damp, flushed face, stroking her cheeks dry with a tender fingertip. Dear God, she was wonderful, and he felt strong and desired and completed and deeply satisfied and so many other delightful things. He kissed the tip of her nose. "All better now, honey?" he asked, voice no more than a breath.

She began to smile, sweetly, wonderingly. "Yes...all better." She stroked his cheeks, fingertips tingling at the slightly rough touch of his early stubble. "Walt...I love you," she breathed, offering him her mouth.

He accepted, drinking in her breath deeply. "I love you," he murmured, easing her onto her back, gently beginning anew the sweet rhythms of consummation. And she was with him for every kiss, every touch and movement that brought them at last to completion. Just before he was beyond coherent thought, he heard her voice in a gasping whisper and made out his name and other words, harsh yet lilting, that he didn't understand, but that he knew were for him - I love you....I love you so... - His thoughts exploded in a burst of light and he surrendered himself completely to her keeping.


Early the Next Morning

Sitting up in bed, Walter and Mariel shared the basket of food. He spread a cracker with the strawberry jam and passed it to her. "I thought you'd be hungry," he remarked, slicing a piece of cheese for himself.

"We missed dinner," she said between bites.

"That's right, we did." He put a slice of apple on top of the cheese, then gave her half. "Want to miss breakfast, too?"

"You're tempting me, Mr. S.," she smiled, reaching for a pear.

"Good. I intended to."

He'd pulled back the patio curtains earlier, and the early sun lightened the room. Mariel still wore her gown and he thought that he'd never again see anything on her that was as sensual as that simple, white, rose-embroidered nightgown. Of course, part of that feeling was probably because of his memory of their lovemaking while she was in that gown. He reached over now to play with the little shoulder strap.

"After we finish our snack," he said, "I think that we can retire this to the dresser drawer for a while. But, sweetheart, you look so beautiful in it."

"Thank you." She tilted her head to kiss his hand, then bit her lip a little. "Walt, you know, I wore this partly because, deep down, I guess I was afraid you might not like my body."

He let his eyes caress every inch of her that he could see. "Looks great to me," he smiled finally. "Round and soft in all the right places."

Her laugh was somewhat shaky. "Right, but...I guess I'd always been a little sensitive about my size. But you know, after we met I didn't care about that any more."

"And you shouldn't," he said, finishing up his apple before meeting her gaze warmly. "Mariel, I want you to remember that I didn't fall in love with a set of sex organs. I fell in love with you."

Somehow, for Mariel, his words were her final proof, and the ultimate confirmation. He was hers, for all the rest of their lives.

"Why don't you put the basket on the table, Walt? It might...get in the way."

A surge of joy tightened his muscles deliciously. "All right." They repacked the basket and he carried it over to the table. When he turned around again he paused, feeling his biggest smile in years transform his face.

Mariel was lying back on the pillow, arms outstretched to him, and the white gown was nowhere to be seen....

The End ...For Now....


Please reply to MaryMastrangelo at tbyv46a@prodigy.com


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