The Nude Wore Blaсk

Сhapter Two

"Owwweeee! OH! OH! OH! IIIYEEEOWWW!"

George Rutherford bayed with the sudden pain. And well he might have. It was agony! It took a full moment before he was able to calm himself. Only then did he stop howling and start cursing his luck.

He never should have been in such a damn-fool hurry. Yanking his zipper like that! It was fortunate he hadn't castrated himself!

George investigated the damage. It was slight. Only the redness of the bruise and a little scraped skin. Still, it was a hell of a thing to happen to a man just before his wedding night! Little did George guess that before the night was over a far worse fate would befall him. Nor, as he glowered at the zipper and damned it for betraying him, did George suspect that a far worse betrayal was being perpetrated upon him by his bride in the very next room!

But then such a suspicion would never have crossed George's mind. Naivete was a major personality trait where George Rutherford was concerned. Besides which, he was so dazed by Llona Mayper's having finally agreed to marry him that it never occurred to him to question why her attitude toward him had undergone such an abrupt about-face.

Only a few months before Llona had been so opposed to becoming George's wife that she'd run away from home to avoid it. Her flight had left George in a peculiar position at that time. Peculiar because of the circumstances which had led up to the prospect of marriage in the first place.

George Rutherford had started lusting after Llona Mayper during their second year together in Birchville High School. By the time they'd both graduated, their twice-a-week wrestling matches in the front seat of George's second-hand Volkswagen had settled into a routine expected and accepted by both of them. As a matter of course, after some heavy petting, George would slide his hand up under Llona's skirt. As a matter course, Llona would let it graze there for a brief moment and then remove it. As a matter of course, that was where Llona always drew the line.

Then one night George had gone to call on Llona at her home. Her parents were out for the evening. George had followed his usual routine. But to his surprise Llona hadn't stopped him that night. Instead, she had urged him to go further and further. At the last minute it was George himself who balked.

At first he had tried to pass it off as concern for Llona's virginity. But then he had confessed the real reason to her. It was the fact that he himself was a virgin and afraid that had stopped him.

Llona had laughed at him. He'd become angry, and they'd quarreled. But then her attitude had changed. The quarrel was smoothed over. And she'd convinced him that it would be to their mutual pleasure to make love and shed their virginity together. Sweetly, she'd calmed George's fears, and they had set out toward this goal together.

It was just within reaching distance when Llona's father had come home unexpectedly and discovered them. Rufus Mayper hadn't hesitated. He'd fetched his shotgun, pointed it at a spot dead-center between George's eyes, and told him that he'd be happy to pay for the wedding, but the Rutherford family would have to supply the liquor.

George had readily agreed. Actually, he was relieved at the idea of having the expression of his lust toward Llona legitimatized. But not so Llona. That very night she'd run away from home to keep from being forced to marry George.

Some three months later Llona had returned. Not long after, George started dating her again. She still turned him on as much as she ever had. However, during her absence, George's virginal state had remained unchanged and his basic timidity-which was the quicksand upon which the liberties Llona allowed him to take rested-remained likewise. Facing up to it, George decided that he'd be much more effective marrying Llona than he could ever be seducing her. Still, there was one nagging question which had bothered him. It made him equivocate when he put his intentions into words.

"I want to marry you," he had informed Llona. "Maybe."

" 'Maybe' meaning if you're sure I'm still a virgin," Llona had guessed correctly.

George had admitted that was indeed the reason. He'd told her he just wouldn't feel right taking a wife who had more experience than he had. Llona had been understanding. She'd assured George that she was still a virgin. And she'd offered to let him prove it to his own satisfaction in the only way that it was provable.

George had taken her up on her offer. Right then and there, in the parlor of the Mayper home, he'd started to make love to her. He'd gone just far enough to determine that she had indeed been telling the truth when his own imminent destruction of the evidence was prevented by Rufus Mayper's once again chancing on the scene.

It was a repetition of what had happened before. Out came the shotgun and the discussion of wedding plans was begun. Only this time Llona hadn't run away. This time she had gone through with the wedding.

This very afternoon George and Llona had been joined in holy matrimony. And now George wanted nothing so much as to rezipper his pants without snagging that most needed for the wedding night ahead of him, collect his bride, bid a fast goodbye to the guests at the reception, and get her off to their honeymoon hotel room where he could finish that which they had twice started together. So George wasted no more time on recriminations toward the treacherous zipper. He finished dressing quickly and went looking for his bride.

"I saw her going into her room," someone in the crowded hallway told him.

George knocked at the door. There was no answer. He knocked again. Still no answer. Finally he turned the knob hesitantly and opened the door a crack. It seemed empty.

"I'm sure she went in there," his informant told him. "Maybe she's in the bathroom."

George shrugged, went into the bedroom, and closed the door behind him. "Llona," he called. Still no answer. He crossed over to the bathroom and looked inside. It was empty. "Llona?" he called again. Silence. Scratching his head, George started for the door to the walk-in closet.

"Yes, George?" Her voice came quickly with his first step in the direction of the closet.

"Where are you?"

"I'm in here deciding on a dress to wear."

"Oh." Again he started for the closet.

"Don't come in here!"

"Why not?"

"I'm not dressed."

"Well, so what?" George's voice was broadly teasing. "We're married now. Aren't we?"

"Please, Jaw-urge!" Panic made Llona's voice skid up the scale of his name.

But George missed it. "Don't be coy," he said, taking another step toward the closet.

"Don't you dare! I haven't got a stitch on!"

"Well, what the devil are you doing in that closet naked?"

"Looking for something to put on. I told you. Now go away. You're embarrassing me."

"How can I be embarrassing you? We're all alone, aren't we?"

"Of course we are." There was just the hint of a "half-hysterical giggle in Llona's voice. "Now will you please get out of here so I can get dressed!"

"Oh, all right. Don't know what you're being so cutie-cute about, anyway," George grumbled. "I'll wait in the hall." The bedroom door closed behind him.

"Phew!" The sweat was pouring off Archer. "That was a close one."

"Well, you can't blame poor George," Llona said protectively. "After all, I am his bride."

"Yeah," Archer agreed. "Which brings up some interesting questions."

"Oh, I can imagine what you must be thinking. I know how it must, seem to you. Like I'm the world's worst tramp."

"Not at all, lady. After what just happened, I'd be a downright ingrate to have any such thoughts. I'm just curious about why you married him if you planned to- I mean if you-"

"I didn't plan anything," Llona defended herself. "And I married George for the same reason that what happened between us happened. I may have been a virgin until just now, but let me tell you that I was the most reluctant virgin that ever drew breath. My body was just yearning to be put to use. A few months ago I even ran away from home and tried to become a prostitute just so I'd be able to relieve my frustration."

"I'd say that should have relieved it, all right," Archer granted.

"Well, it didn't. My very first night on the job everything went wrong. I went to this man's hotel and before we could do anything the hotel detective was pounding on the door and I ran naked into the bathroom and then he opened the door to the bathroom and I ran out the other door and I spent the whole night running around that hotel stark naked. Oh, it was just awful. And the worst of it was that when it was over my virginity was still intact and I was more frustrated than ever. That's why I finally agreed to marry George. At least he was a man. But when I found you in the closet and I felt the way your eyes were devouring my naked body-"

"Eyes can't devour," Archer interrupted her. "Certainly not when they're as scared as mine were."

"It's just a simile, or a metaphor, or whatever-I never can keep them straight. Anyway, when I saw you there like that, I just got carried away. All I knew was that I had to have you right then and there. But I didn't plan it."

"Okay. These things happen. Not usually on the bride's wedding day, but they do happen. And I'm certainly not complaining. It was superb."

"That's the whole trouble," Llona wailed. "It was superb! And now I have to go with George and make love with him and I just know it can't ever be that good. My whole life it will be like that. I'll always know that the best lovemaking I ever had was on my wedding day with a man who wasn't my husband, a total stranger, not even an invited guest, a reception-crasher whose name I don't even know."

"My name is Archer." He tried to soothe her.

"Archer?" She composed herself. "Is that your first name, or your last name?"

"Hey, Llona!" George had opened the door to the bedroom again and poked his head inside. "Will you get through in that closet and get dressed? Folks are waiting to congratulate us."

"In a minute," Llona called back. "Make my excuses for me like a darling, will you? I'll be right out."

The bedroom door closed.

"I've got to hurry and dress," Llona told Archer. "You stay here until after I go down. Then you can sneak out."

"Okay," Archer agreed.

About ten minutes later Llona appeared at the head of the stairs in her traveling dress. She tossed her wedding bouquet to the bridesmaids and then descended, taking George's arm as he came halfway up the staircase to meet her. They entered the living room and cut the wedding cake. She was still standing there, holding George's arm and accepting congratulations, when, a while later, she spied Archer drifting into the room.

The men were lining up to kiss the bride. Archer took his place at the end of the line. Llona's knees grew weak as she watched him come closer. And then he was in front of her, bending over, his lips approaching hers.

It was a long kiss…

"Hey!" George laughed good-naturedly. "Let's don't get carried away."

He was ignored.

"Hey!" He tapped Archer on the shoulder. "That's my bride you've got there."

Archer seemed not to notice.

"Hey!" There was ever so slight an edge to George's voice. "That's enough, fella!"

Finally Archer broke the kiss.

"Hey, just who are you, anyway?" George wanted to know. "I don't recognize you."

"I'm from the bride's side of the family," Archer told him.

"He's my cousin from Chicago," Llona chimed in when she'd found her breath. "Once we were very close."

"Very close indeed," Archer agreed. "In fact, you might say intimate."

"I don't think so," George demurred. "I don't think I'd care to say that at all."

"Nevertheless," Archer wrung his hand, "I want to give you my most heartfelt congratulations. You're a very, very lucky man to marry this lady, sir. I envy you. I can't tell you how much."

"Please don't," Llona murmured.

"Well, thank you." George was confused by Archer's effusiveness and enthusiasm. "Thanks a lot. And I hope you'll come and visit us when we get settled."

"Please don't!" Llona murmured to herself again.

"I will," Archer promised. "Just as soon as you get settled and the lady of the house invites me."

Llona wondered to herself if George's business might ever reach the point when it would require his going out of town. Then she firmly dismissed the thought from her mind. Sadly, with a fixed smile on her face to match George's, she returned Archer's farewells and watched him leave.

An hour or so later, amid a second hail of rice, she and George left the reception themselves. It was beginning to get dark as they dashed to George's car. It was completely dark by the time they reached the resort hotel where they were to spend their wedding night. George lugged their bags into the lobby himself and set them down. Llona waited beside them while he went over to the desk to register.

"Mr. and Mrs. George Rutherford." The desk clerk turned the registration card around and read it aloud. His voice was flat and impersonal.

"We're married. We just got married," George said a little too hastily, a little too defensively.

"Of course." The desk clerk's tone remained noncommittal. "Did you have a reservation, Mr. Rutherford?"

"Yes. I made it a while back, just as soon as we were sure of the date of the wedding."

"I'll check it." The clerk turned away and consulted the file behind him. "Ah, here we are. Well, everything seems to be in order, Mr. Rutherford. Have a pleasant stay with us."

George couldn't be sure if that was really a leer on the clerk's face, so he let it pass. In any case, it was followed by a nod to a passing bellhop who responded by scooping up their luggage and bounding off toward the elevators. George, pulling Llona along with him, had to trot to catch up.

When they reached the room, the bellhop stood aside to let them enter and then followed with the suitcases. He set them down next to the bed and crossed over to the windows. He closed one window which had been opened and raised the other, which had been closed. He turned on the light beside the bed, then turned it off again. He went into the bathroom and reversed the position of the towels on the rack. Then he stood in the center of the room and slowly turned as if seeking any other service he might render. His hand, palm up, dangled in front of him ever so casually.

Finally George got the message. He fished a quarter out of his pocket and flipped it at the bellhop. "That'll be all for now, boy," he said with a haughtiness he didn't really feel.

"Thank you, sir." The "boy," who happened to be a sixty-year-old Negro with three grandchildren, pocketed the quarter disdainfully, muttered "black power" under his breath, and departed.

"Don't you think you undertipped him?" Llona suggested.

"Of course not. No sense spoiling these people. They'd only fritter it away on foolishness, anyway." George puffed up a bit with the sense of male dominance which comes with being a new husband. "You'd best just leave things like that to me, honey," he told Llona.

"You're probably right. That way we can fritter it away on our own foolishness ourselves."

"Sure thing." George had missed the sarcasm in her voice. "Now come on over here and give your new husband a great big kiss."

"Couldn't we eat first, George? I'm starved."

"Oh. Sure. Wait. I'll call room service."

Several minutes later there was a knock at the door. The same bellhop reappeared, this time pushing a tray on wheels. The tray held an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne sticking out of it and various covered dishes. He wheeled it into the center of the room and stood there a moment.

"That's all, boy. What are you waiting for?" George's tone was imperious.

"Should I open the champagne for you, sir?"

"No. I'll do it myself."

The bellhop started to back out slowly, too slowly to suit George.

"What are you staring at, boy?"

"Nothing at all, sir."

"You looking at my wife?"

"Of course not, sir." The bellhop turned on his heel and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"He was only waiting for a tip, George." Llona was embarrassed by the incident.

"Nonsense. I already tipped him."

"That was for bringing up the bags. I think he expected another tip for bringing the food."

"That wasn't it at all," George insisted. "He was staring at you. He was undressing you with his eyes the way they always do!"

"For God's sake, George! He's an old man! Way past the age of lusting after women."

"When it comes to white women, these savages are never past the age!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Llona stared at George. She'd known him a long time; they'd grown up together; yet she'd never before heard him make such blatantly bigoted remarks. Why now? On their wedding night?

Sipping at her champagne, Llona watched George gobble down cracker after cracker heaped high with caviar. He gulped champagne as if it were water to wash down the salty delicacy. His movements as he stuffed himself were quick and nervous, and there was a film of perspiration on his forehead although the room was air-conditioned. His hands were trembling as he piled the black roe on the wafers.

Llona saw it clearly then. It was indeed their wedding night, and George's manhood was about to put be put to the test. He would have to prove himself very soon now, and the closer the time came, the more he was doubting himself. That was why he'd made the ridiculous accusation regarding the elderly Negro bellhop. It was George's own unsureness that had made him strike out at the first handy scapegoat. It was his concern for his own manhood that had fished up the canard of Negro ultra-potency and super sexual prowess and seen in it a threat to the bride he was afraid he, himself, wouldn't be able to satisfy.

Quite simply, Llona realized, George was panicked at the prospect of making love to a woman for the first time. And now he was attempting to squelch that panic by gorging himself with food and liquor. His hands were a blur now as they shoveled caviar into his maw and carried glass after glass of the bubbly wine to wash it down.

"George, don't you think you've had enough? You'll make yourself sick."

"Sorry. Just hungry, I guess. Don't know when I've been so hungry. I guess getting married gives you an appetite. Heh-heh."

"I guess so." Llona shrugged and turned away as he continued eating.

Finally the last crumb of caviar, washed down by the last drop of champagne, slid down George's throat. He sat back and heaved a sigh. "If you're still hungry," he suggested to Llona, "I could order up some more."

"Oh, no! I've had more than enough. And so have you!"

"Umm, I don't know. I could go another sandwich or something. And I sure am still thirsty."

"It's all that salty caviar."

"I suppose so. Well, I guess it's time to-"

"Go to bed." Llona finished the sentence for him quickly before he could find an excuse to order more food and wine. "It has been a long day," she added.

"Yeah. I'm pretty ti- Hie!"

"What, George?"

"I said I'm pretty tired my- Hie!"

"George! You've got the hiccups!"

"That I-hie!-do."

"Oh, dear! I knew you were drinking too much!"

"Non-hie!-sense! I can hold my-hie!-liquor."

"Then why are you hiccupping like that?"

"It must be the-hie!-damn fish eggs. They-hie!- must have been bad. Hie!"

"I suppose it could have been that," Llona granted. "But what can we do about the hiccups? Have you ever had them before? Is there some way to get rid of them?"

"I get them-hie!-sometimes when I'm-hie!-nervous. But I'm not-hie!-nervous now. Hie!"

"You're not?" "Certainly-hie!-got! What have I-hie!-got to be nervous-hie!-about?"

"Well, maybe getting married…"

"Don't be ri-hie! -diculous! Hie!"

"Maybe if you drank some water?"

"All-hie!-right. I'll try it."

Llona poured him a glass of water and held it for him to drink. "Better now?" she asked when he'd finished it.

"Yeah. It seems to be a lot better. I think they're gone… HIC! Damn!"

"I read somewhere that if you put a paper bag over your head…"

"We don't have a-hie!-paper bag. Hie!"

"I have a plastic bag. Maybe that will work." Llona fished it out of the suitcase, emptied it, and crossed over to George. "Now take a deep breath and hold your head back," she instructed him.

"Hie!" George did as she said.

Llona pulled the bag over his head and held it firmly under his chin so that no air could enter. After a moment the bag inflated as he expelled the breath he'd taken. Another few seconds and the plastic bag was pulled inward as he attempted to inhale. Still Llona held it firm. Only when his face turned slightly purple and his arms and legs began thrashing about did she finally release it.

"What the hell are you trying to do?" he gasped. "I have to breathe."

"It worked." Llona was triumphant. "You're not hiccupping any more."

"By gosh, you're right." George took a deep breath and expelled it. "They're gone. No more hiccups."

"Well, thank goodness that's over. Now let's-"

"Hie!"

"Oh, no!"

"Hic-hic! Hie!"

"They're getting worse!" Llona wailed. She looked at him in dismay. Then-"What are you doing?" she asked.

George had taken a deep breath and was pushing against his mid-section with the fingers of both hands. Slowly he forced the air out of his lungs. It was only after all the color had drained from his face that he finally answered Llona. "Doing it the scientific way," he gasped. "Exert pressure on the solar plexus to force out the oxygen bubbles. I remember it from this Bio course I took back in high school. Might as well be logical. Hie!"

"Might as well." Llona sighed.

"It should-hie!-have worked."

"It should have, but it didn't," Llona pointed out moodily.

"Hie!" George had no further comment.

Llona strolled idly about the room. She circled George until she was in back of him. Then she sprang at him from behind, both hands going around his neck. "BOO!" she shouted in his ear.

"What the hell!" He jumped up. "What's the big idea?"

"I was trying to scare them out of you."

"What you almost scared me out of was a year's growth!" he grumbled. "I'm surprised at you. That's an old wives' tale. Has absolutely no scientific basis. You might have given me a heart attack, but it certainly couldn't have any effect on my hiccups. How can you be so illogical?"

"George…"

"Yes?"

"You're not hiccupping any more, George."

"I'm not? Hey, I'm not! I'll be damned! Still, your idiotic idea of frightening me had nothing to do with it!"

"Of course not, George."

"It's simply that I was over the attack anyway!"

"Of course, George."

"It had run its course, that's all."

"Yes, George." "It was a coincidence."

'•'That's all it was, George."

"Well, as long as you realize it. As long as you're being sensible."

"Oh, I am. Only-"

"Only what?"

"Don't you think the hiccups just might have been psychosomatic?"

"Of course not. They were purely a physical reaction to that caviar having gone a little bad. Ought to sue this damn hotel. Psychosomatic! You get the damnedest ideas, Llona!"

"I'm sorry. Well, as long as you're over them now, I guess I'll go in the bathroom and get undressed." "HIC!"

Llona pretended she hadn't heard as she closed the bathroom door behind her.

"HIC!" Have to relax, George told himself. It's just a simple matter of going limp so the tension will be relieved. If I just stop thinking about them, they'll stop. Just have to get my mind off it. 1 know, I'll read.

About ten minutes later Llona emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of perfume. She paused for a moment in the doorway so that George would catch the full impact of the wispy, semi-transparent red nightgown she'd donned. She took a deep breath so that her large, firm breasts would swell under the gauzy material. The outlines of her nipples were clear, shadows of a deeper red, rigid with desire. She swayed her hips provocatively and waited for George to look up and notice. But George's eyes stayed riveted to the handbook in front of him.

"What are you reading?" Llona asked finally.

"Oh! Here you are." George held up the slim volume so she could see the cover.

"It's just a plain wrapper," she told him. "What is it? Doesn't it have a title?"

"Oh. Sorry. They always put these things in plain brown wrappers." George removed the wrapper so that Llona could read the title.

"Marriage Manual for Newly weds," Llona read aloud. " 'Not To Be Sold.' " She read the small print under the title. " 'To Be Distributed By Physicians Only.'" Llona puzzled over this for an instant. "It's a sex manual," she decided at last.

"That's right."

"Do you really think we need it?" Llona asked demurely, her hands seemingly casual as they ran down the length of her body.

"I always believe in seeking out expert advice and following it whenever I undertake anything new," George told her.

"Oh. Well then, by all means-" Llona crossed over to the bed and stretched out beside him.

" 'It's only natural for a new bride to be shy on her wedding night,' " George quoted.

" 'Only natural,' " Llona echoed, murmuring as she rotated her shoulder so that the strap of the nightie slipped down to almost completely reveal one breast.

" 'The wise bridegroom will check his desire and proceed slowly so as not to alarm his innocent new mate… '"

Slow and easy does it every time, Llona hummed to herself.

" 'It is a good idea to first take the hand of the young bride and gently hold it. Such gentle contact will reassure her and help dispel her fears… "' George took Llona's hand in his. It was burning.

"My fears are dispelled," Llona told him. She squeezed his hand hard. "And am I ever reassured!"

" 'A small kiss followed by a light caress may then be in order… '"

"Mmm!" Llona's lips clung to his and she held his hand to.her breast tightly.

" 'If her shyness should make her balk at the caress, the bridegroom should be patient and understanding

"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!