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"Then by the power invested in me by the gods and goddesses of the theater, I hereby declare you Michael and you Dawn to be male and female leads for the rest of your natural lives. You may kiss the bride with real passion and not with a stage kiss," he said, turned and scooped me into his arms for a long, hard kiss, his tongue searching for mine. He followed it with a shower of kisses over my forehead and cheeks. Then he lifted me into his arms, laughing.

"Time for the honeymoon," he

whispered and carried me back to his bedroom.

This time our lovemaking was different. It lasted three times as long as the first time, and I cried out often, each time finding myself at a greater height of ecstasy, just as he had promised. Then, when I thought we were finished, he started to turn me and pull me over him. Unsure of what was happening, I became stiff.

"Relax," he said. "There's another way," he whispered and guided me until I was riding him.

When our lovemaking ended, we lay still, listening to each other's quickened breath, our hearts still pounding.

"Now that's a honeymoon," Michael finally said and kissed me on the cheek. The tiny glow of the small lamp made his eyes shine. He touched the tip of my nose. "Are you happy?" he asked.

I didn't know how long the rapture between Michael and me would last. I longed for passion undying, for ecstasy everlasting. Yet my suspicious self guessed that nothing as glorious as what Michael and I had could go on indefinitely. He would soon tire of me, a child whose experiences and sophistication couldn't compare with his or the other women he knew.

"I am happy," I said, "but every time I've been happy in my life, something has come along to destroy it."

"That won't happen this time. We were meant to live fantasy lives, lives that go on happily ever after, just like in the movies or in great novels. You must not be afraid to enjoy life and enjoy it with me."

"I don't want to be afraid," I said. "I want everything you said to come true."

"Then it will," he declared and waved his hand in the air. "I wave my magic wand over us. Nothing can stop us or hurt us or come between us."

"Oh Michael, do you mean that? Really mean that?"

"Of course," he said. "Didn't we take the oath before the magic mirror?" He kissed me again and then turned over on his back and put his hands behind his head. I rose to go into the bathroom.

When I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, I saw my face was still quite flushed.

Still naked, Michael came up beside me and put his hands on my shoulders. He looked into the mirror as he kissed my neck, holding his lips there a very long time. Then he ran his lips over my shoulders and brought his hands back to my breasts, watching himself as if he and I were in a movie.

Later, Trisha took one look at me after I slipped into our bedroom and knew I had done more than listen to music and talk with my older man.

"That's a hickey on your neck," she said. The powder I had splashed over it was all but gone. "What happened tonight?" she asked. "And don't tell me you just sat sipping wine and talking."

"Oh Trisha, I made love and it was wonderful, more wonderful than I imagined it would be."

"I knew it," she said. "I knew that a man in his thirties wouldn't be satisfied only holding hands and talking."

"Oh, but Trisha," I said, "I'm really in love, more in love than I thought possible. And we've made promises, even taken oaths together."

"Oaths? What sort of oaths?"

"To have and to hold and to cherish each other, just like marriage vows," I told her, but she scrunched up her face and shook her head.

"My mother told me men will say anything to get you to do what they want."

"No," I said. "That's not the way it is with us. We're special together. He needs me, even more than I need him. He's been all over the world and has seen many different beautiful women, yet he wants me. Me!

"Oh please, please, Trisha," I begged, "be happy for me."

"I'm happy for you, but I can't help worrying about you also," she said.

Trisha's words were like cold raindrops trying to pierce the roof on my house of love. They bounced off and were then dried away by the bright light that came when I recalled Michael's loving smile. Trisha and I lay awake in bed for a long time talking. Rather, I did the talking and she did the listening.

I spun a tale of wonder and joy. I told her Allan was already making plans for the day I graduated. We would take a long honeymoon, on a luxury liner, and then return to New York to live in a fancy apartment while I auditioned for parts in musicals. A few times I became so involved in my story, I nearly said "Michael," instead of "Allan." I had to keep catching myself, stopping my tongue that wanted more than anything to be truthful.

"It sounds very nice," Trisha said when I finished. "Just be careful," she warned.