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only reason she dreaded what was to come was the thought of any more movement.  She just wanted to lie very, very still and not jostle her head any more than it had been abused that evening.
    Not enough to eat; a few desperate, thirsty sips of wine.  That was all it took to put an end to years of curiosity and masturbating in dark movie theaters.
    Still – it had to be done .  He would expect it and she was dying to know.
    And so, after they’d said goodnight to friends and family at last, at the door of their hotel room, Raizy and Beryl had gone inside, shutting out the world. 
    The door clicked shut behind them, and they were alone t ogether at last.
    She half expected her family to come back and knock, di sturb them over some forgotten detail:  some gift left behind, some neglected wedding-day custom that they hadn’t gotten to on the endless checklist of dances, songs, rituals.
    They both stared at the door, dumbly.
    Finally, Beryl said, “Are you hungry?  I think there are some cookies over here on the table.”  Their families had left them an assortment of treats, for tonight and for the morning, but Raizy couldn’t bear to look at them.
    No, if this was going to happen, it was better to just let it happen right away.
    “I’m pretty tired,” she said.  “I think I’ll get changed.”  Against her will, she blushed.  She hadn’t wanted to be this girl – this literally-dizzy new bride, simpering and wilting when it came time to do the deed.
    “You can use the bathroom first,” Beryl said politely.  She noticed he was also blushing.
    Raizy took the nightgown she’d bought specially for this occasion into the bathroom with her.  But it didn’t take long to realize that she was trapped in the wedding dress.  Her mother and sister had zipped her in; now, she couldn’t possibly get out without help – and the only one here to help… was Beryl.
    Had they planned it that way?  Had they zipped her up knowing that the next fingers on the zipper would be her hu sband’s?
    She emerged from the bathroom timidly, her head aching, suddenly feeling unbearably confined by the .dress.  She could barely breathe; she needed to get out – and fast. 
    “Could you help with the zipper?” she asked.  Her spinning head made her bolder with urgency.  She hoped she wouldn’t throw up here, in front of her new husband.
    She turned around, and he pulled the zipper down without comment.  She wondered what he was thinking.  But she didn’t have much time to wonder as her stomach suddenly rebelled – and she ran back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her, to hurl what was left of her wedding supper into the shiny clean hotel toilet.

CHAPTER Thirteen          
    Beryl
    Beryl felt his cock twitch, still bound, but trying desperately to break free with each tiny, smooth click of the zipper on her wedding dress.  All that smooth white satin, peeling off her.  And beneath it, the smooth skin of Raizy’s back, emerging raw and new like a butterfly from its chrysalis. 
    The small of her back, gently curved.  Downy hairs, slightly damp with sweat.  He could smell her, then, too, for the first time.  A warm, sweet smell. 
    And there at the bottom of the zipper, where the curve of her ass began, her cotton panties.  Purple, cotton. 
    Not white; those would only be for the days of counting when she was impure, before she went to the mikveh .  Most of the month, he’d learned, she would wear colored panties so that any impurity would not show against white and render her impure.
    How difficult it had been to sit with a straight face, discus sing panties with the rabbi, bloodstains.  His wife’s crotch.  It was a lesson he’d certainly never forget. 
    His finger started to reach out.  The lace edge of her panties was too close ; it beckoned.  He needed to touch it, to stroke it, to pull back the lace and see – at last – the damp and quivering prize that lay beneath.
    And just