Cutler 02 - Secrets of the Morning

about you in it," he said and kissed me behind the ear before turning to return to the living room.
    His kisses had made me tingle all over, and just the thought of wearing nothing but this nightgown made me tremble and my heart pitter-patter.
    Slowly, I got undressed and then slipped the nightgown over my head. It felt no heavier than a breeze. I gazed at myself in the mirror and saw how my nudity was quite visible. Wrapping my arms around myself, I walked slowly to the bedroom doorway and peered out. Michael had put on one of his own recordings. He was sitting back on the sofa, a tight, amused smile on his face. When he saw me, his smile widened and he sat forward.
    "Come in. Don't be so shy," he said. "You look absolutely breathtaking." He poured another glass of wine and held it out for me to take. I walked toward him, my arms still wrapped around my bosom.
    "I'm embarrassed," I said, hesitating.
    "Don't be," he replied, his face becoming very serious and intent. "Not with me, not ever with me." He put down the glass of wine, stood up and kissed my forehead. Then he pried my arms apart gently and looked down at me, his eyes full of desire. We kissed, a long kiss, but a soft one. Wonder filled me. He did love me. It was in his voice, in the way he held me.
    "You're trembling. Are you cold?" he asked.
    "No, not cold."
    "You poor thing, so innocent still. I told you," he said firmly, "we are special people, linked forever and ever by our talent and music. You believe me, don't you?" he asked. I nodded.
    "I know what we will do," he said, smiling again, his eyes twinkling impishly, "we will make it official."
    "Official?"
    "Of course. We will bind ourselves formally by taking formal oaths. Just like a wedding ceremony," he added and took my hand in his to turn me about so he and I faced the mirror. In the subdued lighting, we looked like phantoms. It was as if we were in another room and our shadows had met secretly for their own clandestine lovemaking.
    Michael had us step closer to the mirror. He looked so slim and sensual. One of his love ballads was playing on the stereo, almost as if he had planned it perfectly.
    "Now, Michael Sutton," he said, facing the mirror, "do you take this beautiful, young singer, this siren of song, this new goddess of the stage and screen, to have and to hold, to protect and to cherish, to be your lifelong romantic lead until the curtain is drawn down and the applause finally ends?
    "I do," he replied to his own question.
    "And you, Dawn Cutler," he said, turning toward me and making his voice deep and serious, "do you take this handsome young man, this shooting star of the musical stage and screen, to have and to hold, to protect and to cherish, to be your romantic lifelong romantic lead until the curtain is drawn and the applause finally ends?"
    I stared up at him, my lips trembling. Oh, how I wished this were truly a real ceremony and we were taking these vows in a big, fancy church, before a clergyman with hundreds of special guests present, people from the theater and the newspapers. Of course, all the Cutlers would be there, especially Grandmother Cutler, chaffing at the bit, but forced to smile every time someone congratulated her. Clara Sue would be burning up inside from envy and my mother would have to deal with someone other than herself being the center of attention.
    "Well?" Michael asked again.
    "Yes," I said "I do."
    He turned back to the mirror.
    "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