"It's finally finished," he told her excitedly. "The divorce is over; we cn' get married now, gurrl, there's nothin' t'stop us!" He set her down and picked up little Julia, who was in her infant seat on the countertop beside the sink.

"Didja hear that, Puss?" he asked, beaming at the baby, who fixed her eyes attentively upon him as she always did; her eyes were more focused now, and she treated him to a burp and one of those tentative looking new baby grins. "Yer Mum an' I are gonna get married, an' yer gonna be there, too! Then we're gonna go on a nice trip somewhere -- she's decidin' where, as soon as I find out I'll tell ye." He set the baby back in her seat and turned to Mary again.

"So, have ye given any thought as t'where ye'd like t'go?" he asked, pulling her over to a chair; he sat down and Mary settled in his lap.  She put her arms around his neck and kissed him tenderly. He tipped his head back and regarded her down his nose, his eyes sparkling. "Anyplace ye've always wanted t'go? Just name it; I'll take ye there."

Mary buried her face against his neck, breathing his scent. She thought that if they blindfolded her and had her smell a thousand men there, she would know him instantly.

"Well, there is one place I've always wanted to go," she said after a moment. "Could we go to Liverpool? I want to see where you grew up."

He stared at her in shocked amazement, then threw his head back and laughed until there were tears in his eyes. "Of all the places in th'world," he finally managed to choke, "Ye wanna go to th'Pool?" He shook his head in amused disbelief. "We could go anywhere, mind -- Hawaii, Tahiti, fuckin' Fiji -- yer serious, ye wanna go t'th'Pool."

Mary nodded her head enthusiastically. "Yes; I want to see the places you played in as a child, where you went to school -- I want to see your old house, and the places in your songs -- the places you performed before you got famous – I want to see all of them! Will you take me there? Please?”

He hugged her to him, kissing her soundly. “I’d take yer t’th’ fuckin’ moon, if that’s where ye wanted t’go,” he replied. “Of course I’ll take ye there. Hawaii’s not goin’ anywhere. We’ll go there another time. So, when d’ya think th’big day should be?”

“Right away,” she told him. “I haven’t got any family anymore, except for my brother, and he’s in County Cork; John, could we get married there? Father O’Casey is the same priest who christened me. I grew up in that church; could we be married there, or do you have other plans?”

“As long as nobody finds out ahead o’ time, we can go anywhere,” he replied. “We’d have t’keep it dead secret, like. I’ll tell th’lads, they’ll wanna be there, but otherwise we’re all set. If we travel separately an’ in disguise, it should all be over before anyone gets wind of it. You set it up, gurrl, an’ just let me know what th’date’s t’be. I’ll take care of th’rest.”

***

There was little need for much preparation; the church was reserved, and Father O'Casey sworn to silence, and a week later John and Mary, traveling as Mr. and Mrs. Sean Riley, were on their way to County Cork, Ireland, for their marriage ceremony.

"Maybe this time I'll actually be able t'hear th'fuckin' ceremony," John said to Mary on the plane. "Th'first time I was married there was someone just outside with a bloody jackhammer an' I couldn't even hear what was bein' said." He sighed and pulled Mary close, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.  "It was too bad that it didn't work out with me'n'Cyn," he said softly. "I never wanted t'hurt her. God knows she did her level best with me. She loved me with all that was in her, like you do, Mary," he went on, kissing Mary's soft hair gently. "We hadn't planned on marriage, but then when she turned up preggers, well, it was th' thing I felt I had t'do, y'know. Not that I didn't love her; I did -- but we just didn't work out together. We didn't fit exactly right, but we tried -- it was just too much for her, an' I was so frustrated an' angry; not at her, mind, but at meself. I just couldn't seem t'get it right, an' me frustration came out all directed at her. I thought she'd have t'take it, y'see, bein' th'wife. But in the end, I found out that she didn't hafta take it at all, an' she just took Julian an' moved out. I didn't love her enough, an' I didn't get t'know our child at all. I regret that, Mary. I wanna make things right with Julian, an' I don't wanna mess anything up with our sweet gurrl, here.  Or with you -- I want this t'really work, Mary. I don't wanna fail again, not with...."

"It will work," Mary replied, "It feels right. I never thought I would find a man that I would feel this way about, not after Matt…hurt me. But then I met you…and I didn't like you at all."

"That's lovely," said John, "Yer makin' me blush beneath yer praise."

"Well, it's true," she replied, kissing his cheek. "I love you now, of course, but when I came to work for you, I thought you were the most horrible man I had ever met. You were rude, cynical, arrogant and disgusting -- bringing home all those women all the time, all that drinking, and that day when you came out into the kitchen naked…" she blushed, recalling her horror when she'd turned around and seen him standing there.

"Oh, yeah," he said, nodding thoughtfully. "It was right after that when ye declared yer love for me. I guess ye were pretty impressed."

"I thought you were vile," Mary told him primly.

"I love it when ye talk dirty to me," he answered wryly. "Tell me more."

"Even though I couldn't stand you, I couldn't stop thinking about you. And there were dreams..."

At this, he tipped his head back and raised his eyebrows at her, giving her an amused look down his nose. "Dreams, huh," he said with a grin, "Tell me about 'em."

"Never mind," she told him. "I'll just leave it up to your very active imagination. I'll tell you exactly when it was that I fell in love with you. It was when you came home that night and apologized for making me look at you naked. Then you kissed me and walked away without demanding any more. It was then that I knew that I loved you."

Just then, baby Julia woke and began to whimper. John watched Mary extract the baby's bottle from her bag and begin to feed their daughter. He smiled warmly, his eyes shining with love for them both. He had to admit that he had been frightened when the child's mother had accused him of being the father. The woman had demanded that he marry her, which of course he had refused to do, but then she had been killed in a car accident. The baby had been taken by caesarean and had survived. As it turned out, John was not the baby's father, but he had agreed to adopt the child just the same at Mary's request. He had to admit, he was thrilled that they had done it. He was completely in love with both Mary and their new daughter.

By the time the baby had been fed and burped, they were landing in Ireland. Within half an hour, they were walking into the little church that Mary had attended all of her life before moving to London in 1963 following her parents' death.

Mary's brother was sitting in the front of the church.  When he heard the door open, he turned and saw his sister. He got up and came towards her, his arms open for a hug.

"Mary," he said, gathering her close. "I'm just that glad to see you. It's been an age."

Once she had drawn away, Mary grabbed John by the hand and pulled him forward.

"Chris," she said to her brother, "meet John, the man I'm marrying here today."

John extended his hand and the two men shook warmly.

"How do you do, John," said Chris, "Have you been knowing Mary for long?"

"About a year, give or take," replied John, taking off his sunglasses and removing his hat, "She was keeping house for me, an'…"

He got no further. Chris was staring at him in open-mouthed astonishment. "Mary," he gasped. "But this is -- isn't he -- aren't you…"

"Yes, he's John Lennon," she said, and John pulled her close and kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry not to have told you, but we needed to keep it a secret so that there wouldn't be crowds of people thronging outside."

They were interrupted when the door opened again, and the color drained from Chris' face when he saw the other three guests come in.

"Mother o' God," he whispered, "And there's the rest of 'em."

***

Paul, George and Ringo had come in a rented van and had taken off their disguises as soon as they were behind the tinted glass, so they were entirely recognizable as they entered the church.

"Didn't stay long on the market, did you, John?" asked Paul, clapping his friend on the shoulder. He offered his hand to Chris. "I'm Paul," he went on. "But you look like you already recognize the lot of us."

"Yes," Chris replied with a sheepish grin, "I've been a fan for years. I'm that glad to meet you all." The men all shook hands as Mary stood beside John, beaming happily. Once he had become used to the idea that his sister was marrying one of the Beatles, Chris took notice of baby Julia for the first time.

"Who's this, then?" he asked, his eyes widening in surprise. He looked at Mary. "Mary," he said, "Is she -- are you…"

"This is Julia," Mary replied, taking the baby from John and handing her to Chris. "She's adopted, Chris. But you'd never know it for the way we both adore her."

Chris held the baby and looked down into her little face. She stared back at him and favored him with one of her open-mouthed smiles.

"She's lovely," Chris said. "What made you decide to adopt a child before you got married, though?"

"That's a long story," Mary answered, taking Julia back from her brother. Paul reached for her, and Mary did not hesitate to relinquish her to the care of one of her adoring "uncles."

By the time the priest arrived on the scene, Paul was playing with the baby, George was deep into a conversation about gardening with Chris, and Ringo was telling John and Mary about a new house he'd been looking at the day before that was not far from theirs.

"Father O'Casey!" Mary cried, running to throw her arms around him. He gave her a broad smile and patted her back as she embraced him, then took both her hands in his and looked about at the wedding guests.

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself," he said in an awed voice, "'Tis them, to be sure. What grand company you've been keeping, Mary, my child! And this one here, he's the groom, is he?"

John shook hands with the priest and remarked that he was pleased to meet him. "Mary's told me a lot about yer," he said.

"She didn't tell me anything about you," replied Father O'Casey, "But I know about you, just the same. I followed that rather sensational story a year or so ago, with all the trouble in America."

John looked stricken, and the priest hastened to add, "No, no, 'tis not your fault, lad -- you said nothing wrong. Ill-advised, I will admit, but not wrong. You spoke the truth. It was just a truth that was hard for a lot of people to hear."

John's relief was clear upon his face, and he smiled at the priest. "I'm glad y'understand," he said quietly. "I never dreamed that a small remark like that would get so blown out of proportion. I didn't mean to upset everyone."

"Well," the priest added in a conspiratorial fashion, "I'm sure it didn't upset anyone who really matters in the grand scheme o' things, son." He cocked a thumb at the crucifix behind the altar, and John smiled outright, deciding that he liked the priest very much.  The two of them continued to chat for a few moments, then Father O'Casey clapped his hands to get everyone's attention.

"If you'll all come forward," he said in a loud voice, "We've the matter of a wedding to attend to. Now, ordinarily, I would not be allowed to perform a second marriage for a divorced party, but since Mr. Lennon's first marriage was a civil ceremony, we have dispensation, and we are able to proceed."

He smiled warmly at Mary. "I watched this girl grow up," he went on. "I christened her, I heard her first confession, and I confirmed her. Now I have the happy task ahead to perform her wedding. It seems that she's chosen a fine young man, and I feel confident that he will take good care of her and love her. You will do that, won't you, my son?"

"Ye cn' count on it," replied John earnestly, taking Mary's hand.

"Well, then," said the priest happily, "Suppose we begin.  Now, which of you fine young gentlemen here is the best man?"

Paul handed the baby to Ringo and stepped forward. "That'd be me," he said.

"Ah, young Mr. McCartney, is it?" asked Father O'Casey. "Very good. You stand here, beside your young friend." The priest looked about and then addressed Mary. "I don't see any other ladies; who is it that's to stand up for you, Mary?"

"Is Mrs. O'Donnell still with you?" she asked.

"Why, yes -- she's just over at the house; shall I call her?"

"Please," Mary replied. "I'd love to have her here. She was always so nice to me...to all of us children, really. She'd be perfect."

"Well, she's right over to the house, just next door.  If one of you young gentlemen would..."

"I'll go," Paul volunteered.

Ten minutes later, Paul returned with the plump housekeeper on his arm. He was escorting her as gallantly as if she were the Queen, and she was obviously completely enchanted with him.

"Mrs. Elizabeth O'Donnell is here," Paul announced. He released the woman and kissed her hand before turning her over to Mary for a welcoming hug.

"Remember," he told the furiously blushing lady, "I'm the best man, and you are the matron of honor, so you owe me the first dance."

 When everyone was settled, Father O'Casey began the ceremony. "Dearly beloved," he said, smiling at all those assembled before him, "We are here to celebrate a joyous occasion, the marriage of this man and this woman standing here before me. I know this woman; I have known her since she was a babe no older than this one here." He indicated Julia, who was sleeping just now, safe in Uncle Ritchie's arms. "I never knew a sweeter child than our Mary, and it pleases me to be fortunate enough to be the one she requested to conduct her marriage today, and I am delighted that she has found such a fine young man to become her husband. I do not know young John here, but I feel as though I do, and what I know of him, I like and respect very much. He is without question an honest man, and he does not shirk from saying what he knows to be true and defending his beliefs. I know he is a sensitive man, because I have heard the words that he has written sung over the radio for a few years now. I know he loves Mary, because I am looking at him with her right now, and his love is plain upon his face. I would trust that he will love and care for her, but here is where I must ask, just to be sure that this is a proper wedding ceremony. So, John Winston Lennon, before God and those assembled here, I now ask you; will you promise to love Mary Flanagan, to keep her safe, to honor and protect her, and to give your love and devotion to her alone, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I will," John replied, "I promise."

"And you, Mary Katherine Flanagan, will you promise before God and those assembled here that you will love John Lennon, to care for him, comfort him, to honor him and to give your love and devotion to him alone for as long as you both shall live?"

Mary looked at John, and she smiled gently at him. "That I will," she whispered. "I could do no less."

"Now, the rings. Who has them?" asked the priest, and Paul, eyes sparkling, made a great show of pretending he had lost them. After a moment, during which John was giving Paul the evil eye and Mary looked decidedly nervous, Paul produced the rings and handed them to Father O'Casey, who gave one to John, and one to Mary.

"All right," the priest continued, "Now, John, if you will repeat after me; I, John, take you Mary, to be my lawfully wedded wife..."

***

Once the vows were repeated and the rings were on, Father O'Casey told John that he could kiss his new bride. He swept her into his arms as if she were Scarlett O'Hara to his Rhett Butler and kissed her as though it was their first real kiss; in a way, it actually was. After a moment or two, the other Beatles began nudging one another and choking back laughter.

Mrs. O'Donnell and Chris looked a bit uncomfortable as the kiss wore on, and finally Father O'Casey cleared his throat. George stepped forward and tapped John on the shoulder. "Eh, John, have you had enough, then? Save some o'that for the honeymoon, mate!" he said, and his smile could be heard as well as seen. At last, Mary was released, and she was flushed but obviously quite happy.

She was immediately seized by Paul, who declared that as best man, he was entitled to be the first to kiss the bride. John cried, "No tongue, Paulie, or I'll cripple ye! An' that goes for th'rest of you lot too!" Hugs and kisses were exchanged all around and the group was on their way to the reception hall

***

The reception was held in the church basement, and the boys pronounced the acoustics to be excellent, so they fetched their instruments from the van. In a little while, they were set up, and they began to play. John and Mary danced their first dance to Paul's rendition of “And I Love Her”, during which he winked at the furiously blushing and entirely delighted Mrs. O'Donnell.

"We've never danced before," whispered Mary as John held her close in the middle of the room.

"Ah, but we have," replied John, "We were just callin' it by a different name."

Mary had never been happier; a whole lifetime was ahead of her now, and to be honest, it had bothered her a bit that she had been living with a man to whom she was not married. That was not often done, and it did carry some stigma. She had thought more than once that her mother would have been ashamed if she had been alive to know about it. But now everything would be fine; she was John's wife, and he was her husband. That was a strange thing to think of, and when he released her with a final kiss and went to take his place on the tiny stage, she realized for the first time that she was the wife of a music icon.

Of course, she had known it all along, but it had never quite struck her full force before. It was odd to think of it; to Mary, he had always been just a person; first he was her employer, a musician who she did not care for personally. This was not to say that Mary did not like the Beatles music. Like her brother, she had been a fan from the beginning, but she had never really given much thought to the members of the band as individuals, having already been an adult when they achieved world fame. But then she had fallen in love with John, and she saw him as the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. The Beatles was his job to her, and not really a large part of his identity.

For John, this was one of the things he loved about her. Mary saw him as John and not as Beatle John. This was a refreshing change from the hordes of young women who wanted to spend the night with a Beatle -- and usually any of the four would do -- so that they could brag to her friends about it afterwards. He was pleased to have found someone to share his life with who was not interested in being seen with him, but with really seeing him.

As Mary stood beside Father O'Casey, whose foot was tapping with the music and who was grinning from ear to ear, she was startled by the realization that The Beatles were playing at her wedding reception, and not just her husband and his friends. It was a shock to her to see them in this new light; it was going to take some getting used to.

Paul left the stage when John came up, and swung the plump Mrs. O'Donnell out onto the dance floor. The song they danced to was “Do You Want To Know A Secret”, and Paul sang it to the delighted lady as he danced with her. He released her halfway through the song; she was winded but obviously thrilled. He kissed her hand and then swept Mary out into the middle of the room for a turn.

When Paul returned to the stage, Chris danced with his sister. He was awestruck by the fact that the Beatles were playing here in the basement of their local church, and that his sister had just married John Lennon. "If he ever hurts you, Mary," said Chris seriously, "I will make him wish he'd never been born."

"I don't think that will be necessary, Chris. You don't know him; he loves me. He really does. I know he would never hurt me, not on purpose."

"On purpose or not, 'tis all the same to me," declared Chris. "He'd just better treat you right, is all I'm sayin'."

It was about this time that Father O'Casey noticed several faces at the window, each wearing the same astonished expression. After conferring briefly with the Beatles, he sent Chris to invite them in. As it happened, half the town was outside, and soon there was barely room to walk in the room, let alone dance. The teenagers and young adults could hardly believe their luck; they were getting to see a real Beatles concert, up close and personal, and even baby Julia seemed to be having a wonderful time with Father O'Casey and Mrs. O'Donnell.

To Mary, it was obvious that the four men on stage were in their element; they joked with the audience, snacked on the food that John had arranged ahead to be delivered, and drank plenty of beer. Some young men were dispatched to the local grocer's and the pub for more provisions, and the party went on well into the night.

This must have been what they had been like before fame had taken their freedom away, Mary realized. They seemed younger, and carefree, laughing together and making their music fill the room and beyond, for the tiny basement could not contain it all. It was as if for this night, they could forget that the world seemed to think that it owned them, and that they owed it their lives and their blood, that they had a responsibility to perform. Tonight they were doing what they loved to do because they wanted to, and they were having fun. It was plain both to hear and to see. Mary just filled her soul with the sight of her new husband, his face shining with joy, singing and playing his heart out, occasionally seeking her out with his eyes to throw her a wink and a kiss.

The only thing that happened to bother her at all was when she saw Paul leaving with one of the girls. She knew very well that he had a serious relationship with his girlfriend Jane; yet he seemed to have forgotten that. George and Ringo were both married, and although they did not leave with anyone, they seemed to be making no effort to fight off the girls that clustered around them once they'd left the stage. In Mary's opinion, they were acting in a very inappropriate fashion indeed! She saw a few kisses being exchanged.

To his credit, John did not respond to the women vying for his attention. He smiled at them and said, “Please, ladies, not in front of th’wife!” and came directly to her as soon as he came offstage. He stuck by her side until the last guest had gone and the room was empty except for the two of them. John sat on the edge of the little stage and pulled Mary onto his lap.

“Are ye happy, love?” he asked, kissing her softly.

“I’ve never been happier,” she replied. “It was a wonderful day.”

He kissed her again, more deeply this time, and Ringo came back in to collect some more equipment and pack it into the van. He did not quite trust the local kids to handle his beloved drums.

“I’ve just seen Mrs. O’Donnell,” he told them. “She wants to know if you want her to put Julia down for the night; she’s having a grand time with her, but the little lass is I’ as wearified as the old lady.”

“Oh, we’ll go over and get her,” said Mary. “Please tell her we’ll come in a minute.”

Ringo smiled. “Nah, you two just go on ahead with yer ‘talk’. I’ll send George. The lazy sod may as well make hisself useful, just sittin’ about while I have to trundle back and forth with all me gear.”

“You could’ve let some o’th’kids do that for ye, Ritch,” said John, “They’d’ve been just that thrilled, ye know.”

“Are you daft? And take a chance on I’ somethin’ broke? Not bloody likely,” replied Ringo. “I’d sooner do it meself and be sure everything’s safe.” And with that, he hoisted his bass drum and carried it up the basement steps, muttering to himself about his precious equipment as he went.

A few minutes later, “Uncle George” returned with a very tired little girl and handed her to Mary.

“Congratulations, Mary. You too, John,” he said, hugging his friend. “I guess the rest of us will be pushin’ off now. Paul’s come back, and he’s already asleep in the van. By the time we get to the airport there won’t be much of tonight left as it is. We’ll probably hafta wake up the pilot. Have a good time back at home, John, and take good care of this lovely new family of yours. I’ll see ya when ya get back. I’ve just spoken to Pattie on the phone over to the pub, and she says congratulations, too. She said to tell you that she hated to miss it, but Mo was so sick that she felt she ought to stay with her.”

“Give her our love,” replied Mary. “Both of them. And please tell Maureen that I hope she feels better soon. I’ll be sure to visit both of them when we get back to London next week.”

***

After George had gone and they heard the van pull away and drive off, John took the baby from Mary and held her up near his face. She grabbed for his glasses, and he pulled back just out of reach. "Whist, gurrl," he said, smiling lovingly at her. "Guess what? Yer dad's made an honest woman of yer mum now. She's no longer the wicked, wanton woman she once was. Daddy and Mummy are married proper now, an' ye cn' hold yer head up proud."

"Hush, telling her such things!" Mary said, taking the baby back, holding her close and kissing the top of her head. "It sounds like that's the only reason you married me."

John looked at her, all innocence. "Y'mean it's not?" he asked, feigning shock. "What other reason could there -- oh, ye mean th' love. Well, that was part of it too, I suppose..." and before Mary could open her mouth to protest again, he kissed her lips soundly.

"Now," he said softly, "How about puttin' this little lass t'bed an' gettin' t'th' honeymoon? We'd better move before th' pub closes. We're spendin' th' night there tonight, an' then back to England in th' mornin'. Come 'ead, Mrs. Lennon. I'm not done dancin' with ye yet, not by a long shot."

***

Once Julia was fed, changed, and settled into her "bed" (which was actually a large wooden box lined with plenty of blankets), Mary found herself feeling suddenly shy with John. She felt as if she had never been alone with him before. She watched him casually shed his clothing until he stood before her, completely naked. She could not look at him directly, and he was amused.

"What's wrong, Miss Mary -- or should I say Mrs. Lennon?  Yer still dressed.  Ye weren't half so shy last night; is th'thrill gone, now that we're married proper?"

"I don't know; I just feel kind of shy. I'm sorry. It's silly. I'll get over it."

"Mary, gurrl," said John gently, pulling the extra blanket from the foot of the bed and wrapping part of it around his waist, "Nothin' ye feel is silly t'me." He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her down into his lap. She leaned against him, and to her own horror, she began to cry. He gathered her close and stroked her hair. "Whist," he whispered, "It's alright, there's nothin' t'be cryin' about, gurrl, I'm here. Tell me what's wrong." He was a little scared, and it was evident in his voice. As for Mary, she was weeping quietly, her shoulders shaking, wetting his neck and shoulder with her tears. She felt terribly guilty about losing control this way; this was supposed to be a happy night, and it wasn't that she was sad -- it was just that…

"I love you so much," she finally whispered, her voice hitching a bit as she spoke. "It's like -- it's like the feeling is just too big, and some of it has to spill over, and it's coming out in tears."

"It's not because I'm sad," he sang into her soft hair, his voice little more than a whisper, "But you're the only love that I have ever had...I can't believe it's happened to me; I can't conceive of any more misery..."

"That's right! That's it, that's how I feel exactly! You always know, and that's such a pretty song.  Did you write that one?"

"That I did," he replied, "And ye must've been who I wrote it for, too, although I never knew it at th' time. But it goes t'show ye; I know exactly how ye feel, mainly 'cos I feel th'same meself."

He continued to hold her, one hand toying with her hair. "If ye want, we cn'just go t'sleep, I cn' just hold ye. C'mon, let's be off t'bed. It's nearly tomorra."

Mary got up and pulled her dress up over her head. "What would be the fun in that?" she asked him, reaching around to unfasten her bra. She tossed it aside, then slipped her panties off and set to work on her stockings, smiling at him as she undid the garters. "I want to play with my new husband before I go to bed."

John smiled at her and, flinging the blanket away, he reached for her. "That's me gurrl," he said in a throaty growl. "C'mere, woman."

She went to him and he pulled her down into the bed on top of himself. Her hair fell forward and hung like a curtain, obscuring both their faces.

"I love ye, gurrl," he said quietly, and the words remained between them, shining from his eyes.

His breath was warm upon her face within the shining cave her hair made around their heads. Her throat tightened, and for a moment she thought the tears would begin again, but then he was kissing her, and the rest of the world began to disappear. He gripped her shoulders and flipped her onto her back, his eyes wide and dark, his face slightly flushed.

"God, I want ye," he groaned, grinding his hardness against her.  "Mary…"

She pushed herself up against him, needing to feel him closer, as close as possible, to feel him deep inside of her, making them one. She wrapped her legs about his waist, pulling him close, and entwined her arms about his neck. He kissed her deeply, his warm tongue exploring her mouth as hungrily and insistently as it always did. She moved beneath him, capturing him so that he slid smoothly into her body, and he caught his breath, as she did, at the shock of his initial penetration.

"John," she murmured, moving with him in the rhythm he chose, "I love you." And then his mouth was upon hers once again, making speech as impossible as it was unnecessary. He was moving with urgency; none of his slow, practiced ease this time. Mary was meeting him stroke for stroke, her hunger equal to his own. The feeling he always gave her was rising within her, threatening to spill over; she was trembling on the verge and still reaching. Then he cried out and thrust as deeply as he could, and she was taken with him, borne along on top of the crest of the familiar wave of indescribable pleasure.

When at last she became aware of her surroundings again, he was collapsed upon her, still inside, being alternately gripped and released by the gentle spasms that her body made as if in protest of turning him loose. They lay still like that for a while until at last she felt him slip from her body, and she made a small sound of protest.

"In a bit, love, in a bit," he said softly. "I'm not through with ye yet. Just let me catch me breath."

He rolled off of her and lit a cigarette. She settled into her spot in the curve of his shoulder.

"Are ye still glad ye married me?" he asked her, blowing smoke towards the ceiling, gently caressing the soft skin at her waist with his fingertips.

She snuggled closer with a happy sigh. "So happy," she replied. "I'm afraid I'm going to wake up and this will all be a dream."

"Then let's just stay asleep," he said. "Now, how about one of those special dreams...c'mon, guurl, let's go again." And he crushed out his cigarette and took her into his arms once more.

Go Read Part Two!

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