Chapter 3

I arrived at the appointed place at the appointed time and was the only one there. Typically, she was late getting ready. Did all women do that? I had a corsage that I’d been able to call in and which was delivered by a man wearing a mask. Small businesses were trying to adapt and stay in business and were doing deliveries, where the person delivering could just leave it at the door and never be within ten feet of the customer. So far, the government hadn’t banned that.

I heard the click of heels on the hardwood floor upstairs and then the same thing on the polished surface of the stair treads on the stairway that was against the wall and would deliver her to the open space just inside the front door, between the living room and dining room. I could therefore see her “emerge” as she came down the steps.

I could see her high heels and lower legs, first. Then the hem of the dress she was wearing came into view. I recognized the dress instantly. It had been Sherry’s and had been among the clothes I hadn’t been able to part with. That was the dress she was wearing when I proposed to her. It was what is commonly called a “little black dress” which had displayed everything Sherry had. It had no back in it, and no built-in bra. It dipped in the back to the beginning of the furrow that would become her ass crack in about three inches. It was strapless and had looked like it could just fall off of her any second. We had been dating and it was getting serious. I had invited her to a faculty gala, which I had gotten an invitation to because my GPA was one of the top highest in the architectural program. There were other students, in other programs, and the place was pretty crowded.

I didn’t care. I had eyes only for Sherry. So did a lot of the other men who were there. She knew how to “do the rounds” and guided me to shake hands with the dignities who were there. She wasn’t a student. She worked in the campus library and I went there a lot. She was polite and helpful and after chatting with her a dozen times I knew she was single. I finally asked her out and she said she didn’t usually go out with students. I turned on the charm and basically begged her to have coffee with me. We did just coffee and conversation three times and she consented to go on a “real” date. I was a poor college kid who was only familiar with things within half a mile of the university, so she picked me up in her car and drove to Taco Bell, of all places. She knew I didn’t have the money to take her to a fancy restaurant. I was a little embarrassed as we ate, there in the car, parked in a spot in the Walmart parking lot across the street from “The Bell.”

“You can take me to get a steak after you graduate and have a job and are making tons of money,” she said.

“What if my job is someplace far away from here?” I asked.

“Then I guess this will be the highlight of our relationship.”

Two months later I was trying to make something else the highlight of our relationship.

We had not gone to bed. I suppose we could be classified as friends on the way to having benefits. We had spent hours on her couch, making out. She had let me touch her breasts and had even said, “I like that,” but that was the most intimate we had been.

Then I invited her to the faculty soirée and she about melted me. We drank some wine and met a lot of people whose names we would forget before we got home. The buffet was fantastic and I ate like a pig.

On the way home she said, “That was fun. Thank you for taking me.”

“So,” I said. “It’s still early. What do you want to do?”

“It’s almost midnight, Bob,” she said.

“I stay up until two or three studying all the time,” I said.

“I can’t stay up that late,” she said. “I have to go to work tomorrow.”

“Then I am sad,” I said.

“I have an idea,” she said. “Why don’t we go to my house and you can help me take this dress off. It has sticky things all over that keep it from falling off of me and it’s going to be a pain to get off.”

“Um ... okay,” I said.

“Just okay? You’ve been wanting to get me naked for weeks.”

“When did I ever try to get you out of your clothes?” I asked.

“I knew what you wanted. I know what you still want. So are you going to help me take this dress off or do I have to go to the student union to find a volunteer?”

“I will help you take the dress off on one condition,” I said.

“This should be interesting,” she said.

“You have to marry me,” I said.

“Tonight?” she replied.

“No. After I have a job and a place for us to live together,” I said.

She was silent for a whole block. Finally she glanced over at me.

“You better ring my bell, tonight, louder than it has ever been rung before,” she said.

Without going into sordid detail, I rang her bell. Then I rang it again. Then I rang it again. When I moved her hand to my fourth erection she moaned, “Yes, I’ll marry you. Now, just let me sleep!”

And that’s how I proposed to my wife. As I thought about it, though, I realized that maybe I shouldn’t tell Caitlin that story.

As more and more of Caitlin came into view, my heart sank lower and lower. By the time she stepped onto the floor at the bottom of the stairs, I had an erection.

The dress fit her just like it had fitted her mother. If anything Caitlin was bigger in the chest. Her breasts bulged perilously close to showing areolas. Her hair was up in some kind of whirling mass that was full of sparkling diamonds. It was a net, actually, but the net was the same color as her hair, so only the rhinestones showed. She walked with that careful tread of a woman not used to wearing high heels. She didn’t have a lot of makeup on, but she didn’t need it. A touch of rouge made it look like she was blushing. Only her eyes were made up with eyeliner and eyeshadow and mascara. It wasn’t heavy. The eyeliner was green, which of course went with her eyes.

“This might have been a mistake,” she said, as she took a couple of steps toward me.

“No, you look beautiful,” I sighed. “That was my favorite dress of Sherry’s. She was wearing that dress when I proposed to her.”