MAKING IT COUNT
Chapter Twelve

Wedding Night
That Evening

After the last guest had left and the last candle was blown out, Mr. and Mrs. Calvert made their way to their hotel suite, leaving Hope in the care of Molly for the evening.

John scooped Rose into his arms and carried her over the threshold as she giggled happily. He closed the door behind them with his foot as he set her back on the ground, kissing her passionately.

Rose broke away with a smile. "Whoa, fellow. Not so fast." John looked at her in confusion. "We have all night. There’s no need to rush anything." She smiled at him delicately, then turned to find the champagne. Or hoped to find it, at least.

"What ya lookin’ for?" he asked, taking off his coat and tie.

Rose searched through the various cabinets of their suite until she finally found what she was looking for. She picked up the bucket of ice that contained the bottle of champagne, displaying it mischievously to John. Rose’s wedding gown swayed back and forth as she made her way across the room and sat on the corner of the plush bed. She set the bucket down in the middle of the bed and crossed her legs beneath her, sitting on the back of her gown and trying to flatten it out in the front.

John began to try and make a fire in the fireplace. Rose laughed at him as he failed in his first two, and then three attempts. John looked back at her and smiled at her devilishly. "Is there something funny?"

Rose tightened her lips together, suppressing a grin. "Sorry," she said, covering her mouth. "But I must admit, the view from here is quite...appealing." Now Rose was the one to smile devilishly.

John said nothing, but turned around to finish building the fire. Rose stretched her hands out behind her and leaned back. "Mmm-mmm-mmm," Rose moaned. "A very good view."

"Darling," John said without turning around, "one of these days you’re going to get so excited..." John trailed off as he turned to face Rose, having finished his task. "You are so beautiful," he said sincerely.

Rose smiled. "Get some glasses. I got us champagne."

"You didn’t have enough at the wedding?" he teased.

"Hey, I was just enjoying myself." Rose had indeed drunk quite a lot of champagne at the wedding, and by now it was becoming quite apparent. However, she was wise enough to keep herself sober enough to enjoy the night to come.

John was soon sitting on the opposite corner of the bed next to Rose. He, too, crossed his legs beneath him and unbuttoned his vest. He handed Rose her glass and uncorked the bottle. He poured both his and Rose’s glasses full and raised his glass for a toast. Rose followed as he began to speak.

"To my one true love, my bride, and my life." He smiled intently, and they clicked their glasses together.

"To us," Rose added romantically.

They each took a small sip, then set their glasses down on a low-lying end table next to the bed. "Isn’t that thing uncomfortable?" John asked, looking at Rose’s gown. "It looks awfully bulky."

"Trying to get me out of it already, huh?" Rose asked playfully.

"I was just trying to make my sweetheart more comfortable." John smiled at her innocently.

"Well, I did bring along something a little special...but…" she interjected, "I’m saving it for later. Right now, I’ll go change into something comfortable." Rose stood and searched for where the bellhop had placed their baggage.

"It’s by the door," John said.

"Thank you," she replied, already rummaging through her things. She saw her new white negligée folded neatly on top and smiled. She pulled out her oversized blouse and the pair of men’s sleeping trousers she owned. True, they weren’t very feminine, but they were very comfortable, and Rose thought them to be quite sexy in their own way. She headed quietly towards the bathroom.

Once the door had been closed behind her, John let out a sigh and lay down on his stomach. He couldn’t believe the doubts he had this morning. Rose was most certainly the woman for him. The one and only.

Rose emerged from the bathroom shortly in her baggy outfit. The elegance of her hair and makeup clashed with the dull attire. Rose’s silk stockings were also quite visible, which made the outfit all the more humorous.

John began to chuckle as Rose came out holding her wedding gown. "What?" she asked, suppressing a giggle of her own.

"Nothing. You just look a little...mismatched, is all," he explained.

Rose looked down at herself and let out a stiff giggle. "Well, I’ll take the stockings off, but the rest stays." Rose put her wedding gown on a hangar and hung it in the large hotel room closet. After quickly discarding her stockings, she posed for John.

"Better?" she asked.

"It’ll do." He smiled at her.

"What about you? You plan on staying in that penguin suit for the rest of the evening?"

"I happen to like my penguin suit. But I’ll change it if it’ll make you happy."

"I’m holding you to that. Go change." She pointed to the bathroom and pretended to be annoyed--her hand on her hip, tapping her foot, and looking towards the ceiling.

"As the lady desires." John bowed and scurried off to the bathroom. He soon emerged wearing corduroy slacks in a dark chestnut color, almost matching the color of his hair. His white shirt was not tucked in but lay unbuttoned and flowing at his hips. Rose stared at his bare chest for several moments before pretending to clear her throat.

"Yes?" John asked, reaching for the buttons on his shirt.

"Nothing." She smiled. Rose took a plush pillow from the bed and placed it on the floor by the fire. "Come sit next to me." She stared at the fire as John finished buttoning his shirt.

John walked towards Rose and placed the other pillow from the bed on the floor next to her. He sat down and gazed at Rose, staring at her as if she were beauty itself. Rose felt his piercing gaze and slowly turned to look at him. She looked into his eyes and smiled. She lowered herself and placed her head gently in his lap. John stroked her hair softly and Rose sighed contentedly.

Rose looked up at his face from where her head lay. She placed her hand up to his face and ran her fingers softly over his cheek, tracing over his lips with her silky fingertips. John kissed her fingers softly, and Rose smiled.

Carefully taking Rose’s head off his lap, John lay down next to Rose, and they peered into each other’s eyes.

"I never thanked you today for the gift," Rose whispered. "I was so touched, I--" John interrupted her with a full kiss on the mouth. Rose took a deep breath in from her nose and kissed him back roughly.

Rose giggled from her nose and broke away. She smiled at John’s confused expression. "I’ll be right back," she said mysteriously. She stood up quickly and ran into the bathroom. John saw her quickly grab something from her suitcase, but he could not make out what it was. John rolled over onto his stomach, well aware of the pressure building in his abdomen. The very essence of passion seemed to be overtaking him.

It seemed an eternity before Rose finally emerged from the bathroom. When John finally saw her, he was speechless. Rose looked John straight in the eyes, suddenly becoming very self-conscious. Her hands lay delicately on her upper thighs, and she inhaled shakily. Rose Calvert stood before her husband in a white lace negligée, transparent in all but two places.

After a short moment of shock, John Calvert rose to his feet, his desires becoming apparent in more ways than one. He walked to his wife and kissed her hungrily. Rose threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back with an urgency that filled the room with an unmistakable energy, an energy which a man and a woman would experience but once in their life--the energy of one’s wedding night.

The dawn of a new life emerged that evening. A life in which Rose Dawson and John Calvert were no longer individuals. Their souls and minds forever joined, the love they shared always combined. A promise made so long ago hummed in the ears of the young woman. A promise that was never broken; a promise that was never forgotten.

*****

Distant memories of a promise kept; a life so changed; the soul unable to stay, unwilling to leave. An ocean of memories holds never an absolution. The chains lock tight but love holds the key. A prayer of love I send out to thee.

The End.

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