Chapter 23

Alice didn't take a vacation from her job at the hospital. She took a 30-day leave of absence. We got married in Santa Fe, at my folks' house, on Thanksgiving day. We'd flown Phil and Margaret Hughes in for the celebration. Margaret was Maid of Honor.

Alex and Maria where there, too. And Forrest Whitcomb from the Astros: my Best Man. I hadn't been raised in Santa Fe. My parents had moved there after I was grown up and gone. But I recognized several of their old friends from the family's California days. Good of them to come so far.

Alice had two of her Tennessee cousins in as guests. They were nice girls, both still in their teens. We all got along great. They were staying over, with my parents, for several more days after Alice and I planned to depart.

Alice and I were in Santa Fe for three days. After the reception, we left for a week in Hawaii, off by ourselves in an obscure resort hotel that was hard to get to, but worth it when we finally did.

We'd been together, now, for more than seven full months. We'd been lovers for only a fraction of that time, but we knew each other well. I guess that night, back in September, during the regular season. I guess maybe that had been our wedding night, really.

Still. It was special here. The ocean was right outside the window of our suite. We wouldn't forget this beautiful setting, or the wonder of being together here, thousands of miles from anyone who knew us.

Our first night there, Alice had been giving me unsubtle signals that she was intent on making our visit to Hawaii memorable. Anybody witnessing her behavior in the hotel restaurant, or in the seaside bar afterward, would never have guessed there was, in their midst, a recent virgin girl who once had been a nun.

Oh, she wasn't wild. She was behaving like the lady that she was: Mature. Decorous. Restrained.

But I could see it in her eyes, and, I'm pretty sure, so could anyone else who looked her way.

Back in the room, I was waiting in bed for her to emerge from the bath. I wore boxer shorts. Usually, I wore Jockeys, but, hey, this was my honeymoon. I was trying to show a little class, for a change.

Alice came out. She stood in the bathroom doorway, the light behind her, giving me a real good look.

I had expected something provocative -- diaphanous, back-lighted. All lacy and flimsy. Rip-off-able.

But this wasn't see-through or flimsy. It was black and white, and made of heavy, pleated cotton cloth.

Reminiscent of an old-style nun's habit!

Oh, help me, Jesus!

There was, thank you, no wimple. Alice's gown was white-collared, had long black-sleeves, and was choir-robe thick.

However, it was so brief at the bottom that it scarcely covered her sex. It was a symphony of black and white above, but with Alice's long, long legs, fully exposed to view below.

She waited for my reaction.

"Holy shit," I said.

"Margaret made it for me," she said. "... What do you think?"

Alice knew I was no Catholic, and not a particularly devout Protestant, for that matter. Still. She knew it was daring, what she and Margaret had concocted. Maybe I would disapprove. In my long silence, she was starting to lose confidence in her little surprise.

"What do you think?" she asked me again.

"I think that is the most... the most... sacrilegious, the most craven, most perverted thing I have ever seen!"

Her face fell. "I'm sorry! I know it's... bad. I was afraid you'd... But... I thought you'd..."

I got up from the bed. My penis was having very little difficulty forcing its way out of the little fly in the front of my boxers.

"I love it!" I shouted to her. "It's perfect! It's a good thing it looks durable! You're going to have to wear it at least once a week, for life!"

Much relieved, Alice was in my arms in three quick strides. When she raised both arms to embrace me, the half-habit's hem came almost to her waist, and I saw the other half of Alice's (and Margaret's) little surprise. My new bride was completely hairless, below. Her vaginal lips as smooth as the skin on her bottom -- which bottom I now held in both my hands.

"How did Margaret talk you into pulling a stunt like that?" I asked her, still truly shocked (although delighted) at this impossibly impish act.

"It wasn't even her idea," Alice told me with some pride. "She just sews a lot better than I do!"