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Dick hung up the phone, reached for his drink on the coffee table and lifted his glass to me, “Well, Mrs. Grand, happy honeymoon. We’re confirmed on the Seabourne Pride. Departing in two days for a luxurious month-long cruise down the Amazon River then across the Atlantic to Portugal and beyond.”

Six months earlier, after our “Truth or Dare” conversation at Rossini’s, we had tumbled into bed at Dick’s apartment, to consummate a promise in our own special way. Reuniting with his King Pin was almost anti-climactic, as we were both so excited to be in each other’s arms that our culmination swept upon us much too quickly.

It was the post-coital fondling into the early morning hours that reintroduced us to our passion. Dick’s strong hands sought every recess and erogenous zone of my eager body. His hands crept stealthily across my breasts, as his tongue licked down my belly to find my hips and love glove. The sweetness slithered out, and tickled across my thigh. He kissed and kissed, sucking kisses and biting kisses and sweet little kisses all in a row.

Beyond ecstatic I filled my mouth with his sacks, slipping my tongue over and around. My lips pushed and rolled the stones within. I licked up the length of his King Pin, reaching the fold and flicking my tongue in and under. I felt the red, hot tip bulge, fill, and release into my mouth. I swallowed, the creaminess flowing into me, empowering me, captivating me. We played until we fell into a depleted sleep, tumbled around each other, exhausted with pleasure.

Later the next day, robed in satin and stretched on a chaise longue on his rooftop balcony, I raised my worry about Bobby Dangler. “He’s coming home tomorrow,” I said, “How can I explain to him?”

“Let me,” Dick said, holding my face in his hands and coming in for a deep, long smooch. He picked up the phone to call his friend and business associate. I watched his back and rear end as he walked across the patio and leaned on the railing. The City spread out below him, and the bright yellow sun whirled with blues and whites as I watched.

“He’s not surprised,” Dick said as he sat at the foot of the chaise.

“He’s okay? Not mad at me?” I asked.

“Not mad,” Dick assured me. “Disappointed maybe, but okay.”

“Oh King Pin,” I whispered as I leaned into him, “Thank you for making everything easy.”

Now, six months later, on a glorious warm spring day in New York City, I stood next to Dick, on the balcony, overlooking the city skyline. Annie stood next to me, wearing a ridiculously layered outfit, more suited for a backyard family party than my wedding. I had been unsuccessful in luring her to Lizzy at Loehmann’s, and this beige, cotton, flowy pants suit was her idea of NY chic attire.

Standing beside Dick, in a stunning Armani suit I had bought him at Barney’s, was Todd, flown in from Boston where he was a sophomore at Boston University. Susan was in Munich on business and unable to join us. Dick was not pleased.

Dick stood tall and elegant next to me. He wore a bespoke charcoal grey wool suit, with a satin herringbone pocket square. I bought him cufflinks as a wedding gift. They were engraved with his initials, RJG, though in a mischievous moment, I was tempted to have the jeweler etch “King Pin” onto the small squares. I dressed in a custom-made champagne suit, tailored to fit my curves, and stood three inches taller in classic black patent leather stilettos, their shiny red soles flaunting the high-end design.

Following a traditional wedding script, the JP asked, “Do you, Richard Johnson Grand, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Dick looked at me, no hesitation in his gaze, and a small lopsided smile that hinted at the lust and love reserved for only me. “I do,” he said, and placed the diamond eternity band on my left hand.

Next it was my turn. The JP asked, “Do you Lorelei Fox, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” I said. “I absolutely do.” And slid the simple gold band on his ring finger. I looked forward to playing with that ring finger in many creative ways, later, in bed.

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