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Authors: Dorothea Benton Frank
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Avenue and the reception was at 563 Park Avenue. My arm was looped through Richard’s. I think I was making some dumb joke to him about all the money we saved on limousines and wouldn’t I be the thrifty wife. I could tell he was a little drunk.
That was okay. Getting married was stressful, to say the least. Even I had had three glasses of wine. We were both bone tired. Eddie the doorman greeted us.
“Dr. and Mrs. Levine! Welcome home and congratulations!”
“Thanks, Eddie,” Richard said, and handed him a bottle of champagne we brought home for him.
“Aye! ’Tis indeed a night for celebrating!” he said. “When I married Mary Madeleine, we had the whole blooming pub to our P l a n t a t i o n
5 1
family and friends! Twenty-five years and I still recall how we danced! Ow! My feet ache just remembering!”
It was obvious to me that old Eddie had already been celebrating something, probably sundown. But, God bless him, he was so sweet. He followed us to the elevator and pressed the button for us.
“So, it was a good party?” he said.
“It was wonderful!” I said. “Now, you take that home and be sure to share it with your wife!”
The door opened and he held it back so we could enter. He looked at the bottle, heaved a heavy sigh of theatrical despair, looked up at us, and winked. “Wedding night!” he said. I knew what he was thinking. On tiptoes, I kissed Richard’s cheek and blew a kiss to Eddie as the door closed. Then I got the giggles.
“Well, Dr. Levine? Are you going to ravage your wife?”
“He’s a cheeky fellow, isn’t he?”
“He’s a cheeky fellow,” I said, imitating his English accent, and he pinched my bottom. “Ouch! Hey! I asked you a very important question and, as your wife, I demand an answer!”
“Oh, do you now? Well, I prefer to show and not tell!”
With that he pulled me to him, put his delicious mouth on mine, slid my dress up to my waist, and tried to pull down my panties. It was great fun, it just wasn’t cool, because when the elevator door opened unexpectedly on the seventh floor, Mrs. Jacobson nearly fainted. She scowled at us in horror.
“I’ll take the next car!” she said in disgust.
“You’re very kind, Mrs. Jacobson,” Richard said, with his usual politeness, and I scrambled to cover my legs. When the door closed he said, “Come back to me, woman!”
“No way!” We were both laughing now, wondering if Mrs. Jacobson would report us to the co-op board for lewd behavior.
“I’ll bet she does,” I said.
“Oh, let her and then I’ll tell the board that she forages the waste bin on the corner every morning when she walks that horrible little dog of hers.”
5 2
D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k
“Does she really?” I said, eyes wide.
“Of course not, but I’ll say on my honor that she does!”
The door opened on nine and we stepped out into the hall.
“Well, Mrs. Levine,” he said, “shall I carry you over the threshold?”
“Absolument!” I said, using most of my French.
Richard unlocked our door, swooped me up, groaning, and carried me to the bedroom where he unceremoniously dumped me on the bed so hard that I bounced.
“I’m going to close the door,” he said. “Can I get you anything?”
“Such as?” I said, twisting my new wedding band on my hand.
It was the most wonderful feeling to know I was finally Richard’s wife. I was so happy, but he was staring at me with the most peculiar expression.
“I’m going to pour myself a lovely big scotch while you celebrate captivity.”
Captivity? It didn’t ring right with me. He had been saying things like that ever since we decided to have a wedding. Somewhere along the line I had sort of unconsciously decided to ignore them. I heard the freezer door close and the liquor cabinet door shut and then silence. I waited for a few minutes and when he didn’t return I got up to find him. He was in the living room, in the dark, looking out of the window. I went up
That was okay. Getting married was stressful, to say the least. Even I had had three glasses of wine. We were both bone tired. Eddie the doorman greeted us.
“Dr. and Mrs. Levine! Welcome home and congratulations!”
“Thanks, Eddie,” Richard said, and handed him a bottle of champagne we brought home for him.
“Aye! ’Tis indeed a night for celebrating!” he said. “When I married Mary Madeleine, we had the whole blooming pub to our P l a n t a t i o n
5 1
family and friends! Twenty-five years and I still recall how we danced! Ow! My feet ache just remembering!”
It was obvious to me that old Eddie had already been celebrating something, probably sundown. But, God bless him, he was so sweet. He followed us to the elevator and pressed the button for us.
“So, it was a good party?” he said.
“It was wonderful!” I said. “Now, you take that home and be sure to share it with your wife!”
The door opened and he held it back so we could enter. He looked at the bottle, heaved a heavy sigh of theatrical despair, looked up at us, and winked. “Wedding night!” he said. I knew what he was thinking. On tiptoes, I kissed Richard’s cheek and blew a kiss to Eddie as the door closed. Then I got the giggles.
“Well, Dr. Levine? Are you going to ravage your wife?”
“He’s a cheeky fellow, isn’t he?”
“He’s a cheeky fellow,” I said, imitating his English accent, and he pinched my bottom. “Ouch! Hey! I asked you a very important question and, as your wife, I demand an answer!”
“Oh, do you now? Well, I prefer to show and not tell!”
With that he pulled me to him, put his delicious mouth on mine, slid my dress up to my waist, and tried to pull down my panties. It was great fun, it just wasn’t cool, because when the elevator door opened unexpectedly on the seventh floor, Mrs. Jacobson nearly fainted. She scowled at us in horror.
“I’ll take the next car!” she said in disgust.
“You’re very kind, Mrs. Jacobson,” Richard said, with his usual politeness, and I scrambled to cover my legs. When the door closed he said, “Come back to me, woman!”
“No way!” We were both laughing now, wondering if Mrs. Jacobson would report us to the co-op board for lewd behavior.
“I’ll bet she does,” I said.
“Oh, let her and then I’ll tell the board that she forages the waste bin on the corner every morning when she walks that horrible little dog of hers.”
5 2
D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k
“Does she really?” I said, eyes wide.
“Of course not, but I’ll say on my honor that she does!”
The door opened on nine and we stepped out into the hall.
“Well, Mrs. Levine,” he said, “shall I carry you over the threshold?”
“Absolument!” I said, using most of my French.
Richard unlocked our door, swooped me up, groaning, and carried me to the bedroom where he unceremoniously dumped me on the bed so hard that I bounced.
“I’m going to close the door,” he said. “Can I get you anything?”
“Such as?” I said, twisting my new wedding band on my hand.
It was the most wonderful feeling to know I was finally Richard’s wife. I was so happy, but he was staring at me with the most peculiar expression.
“I’m going to pour myself a lovely big scotch while you celebrate captivity.”
Captivity? It didn’t ring right with me. He had been saying things like that ever since we decided to have a wedding. Somewhere along the line I had sort of unconsciously decided to ignore them. I heard the freezer door close and the liquor cabinet door shut and then silence. I waited for a few minutes and when he didn’t return I got up to find him. He was in the living room, in the dark, looking out of the window. I went up
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