“I’ve just sent you all the information about the house where you two will be staying. Your phone will open the door. I’m sure you’re very tired, and we’ve stocked the fridge and the freezer so Amanda will be able to get something ready for you quickly once you get there, I’m sure. Your loaner car is right outside, and your phone will start it up.”
She turned to me. “Amanda, this probably won’t make complete sense to you right now, but you’re probably going to try very hard to be a good girl tonight, and you’re going to find it’s a lot more difficult than you thought. Remember that there are folks like me who are here to help you think it through. When Mr. Williams is on his men’s outing tomorrow, I’ll come take you to the country club for lunch with some other wives, including April Dennison—whom you met on your honeymoon if I understand correctly. You’ll be able to ask any question you want—even impolite ones.”
I couldn’t keep myself from asking, though I tried to close my lips around the word and keep it inside my body. It came out anyway, sounding more like a squeak than actual speech.
“Tonight?”
It didn’t mean anything. She meant, like, tonight and the rest of the week… she wasn’t talking about… or she meant that since it’s our first night here, I might have second thoughts… she didn’t mean anything about… about…
My mind whirled as it looked for something to add—some way to put the alarming idea that had come immediately into my head to explain the older woman’s sayingbe a good girl tonight.
About the… the… bedroom. Of course, this proper midwestern lady didn’t mean that I’m going to try very hard to be a good girl in the bedroom.
In the bedroom. During… intimacy.
While Rick… While he… without his clothes on…
My skin felt scalding hot, from my neck to the roots of my hair, as I realized I couldn’t even think about this shameful subject without fear and deep embarrassment. I had supposed, before the wedding, that I would get over all that. Despite having had my wedding night, though, and despite my husband’s having deflowered me—despite my having ‘become a woman’ in the marriage bed—the thought of the bedroom, of the bed, of my strong, gorgeous bridegroom naked confused and terrified me.
Mrs. Purdy looked at me intently, her face suddenly full of sympathy.
“Amanda,” she said, “I don’t want to embarrass you any more than I know I already have.”
I looked across her neatly ordered desk, feeling my forehead crease deeply. My mouth twitched to the side in an involuntary little gesture of, I supposed, minor skepticism and defiance.
“But when a young woman who’s had the kind of upbringing it seems you did comes to Rocky Falls with her husband, I’ve found she often has trouble trusting that he knows best when it comes to intimacy. I’m guessing that Mr. Williams is going to start to assert himself properly tonight—as we recommend, though of course in the end the decision lies with him. I want to make sure you remember that you’ll have the chance to talk about it with other wives tomorrow. I know that helped me, when Mr. Purdy first began to train me in the bedroom.”
I had felt reassured and even comforted at the beginning of Mrs. Purdy’s little speech. I did indeed want to trust Rick—and I knew my husband deserved that trust, had earned it throughout our courtship, when he had waited patiently and had never pressured me to be intimate before marriage.
The last thing she had said though, about her husband… about himtrainingherin the bedroom…
I swallowed hard. I had tried to maintain my composure, but I could feel how stricken my face must look: lips parted and jaw slack. The blush at least had drained out of my face as my tummy churned.
Mrs. Purdy stood behind her desk, looking again at Rick.
“Let’s get you two on your way,” she said cheerily.
I felt Rick take my hand, and when I turned to look at him again at last I saw concern in his face.
“Let’s just get to the house,” he said, his voice sympathetic. “We’ll talk it all over.”
To my horror, Mrs. Purdy apparently felt the need to give more of her already unwelcome advice.
“That’s a great idea, Mr. Williams,” she said, coming around the desk and looming over us, “but I’d encourage you to make sure you also take action when you need to, to make your wishes clear.”
My heart raced in my chest as I saw Rick look up into the older woman’s face, his face meditative, a small smile on his lips. He nodded.
“Thanks, Florence,” he said. He started to stand up, pulling my hand gently to help me up. For a moment, I resisted, pulling back against his grasping hand.
Let’s see him take action, a voice inside my mind said. My already racing heart seemed to skip a beat. A logical part of me examined the thought and labeled it, to my horror,bratty.
Definitely bratty.
“Let’s go, Mandy,” Rick told me, his voice resolute—not severe, really, but on the way there. He pulled a little harder. A thrill of fight-or-flight arousal traveled through my body, and I felt my hips jerk, just a millimeter, with the faint memory of my husband putting me over his knee.
I rose hurriedly, my face hot once again, refusing to look either at Rick or at Mrs. Purdy. I needed to escape from these thoughts and feelings, I thought. Fight-or-flight, definitely, with an emphasis on flight, right now.
Above all, I didn’t want to think about that bratty moment, that resistance not for the sake of actual rebellion but purely—my brain had seen in an instant—to see what my suddenly confident husband would do, when I defied him.