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She had always wanted to go to her marriage bed a virgin; now it was impossible. She'd have to make up some story for Sam; maybe she could tell him she'd done a lot of horseback riding and broken her hymen that way. Or maybe at gym class, or riding a bicycle. No, he'd never believe that. Or would he? She knew Sam loved her; at least, she felt he did. Oh, please, let him love me. I need him so much. Sam... Sam... "Suzanne, is something wrong?"She looked up to see her instructor standing next to her, a look of concern on his kindly face. She started, and then realized the class was empty, and she had been sitting there, tears streaming down her face, unaware that the others had left. Embarrassedly she wiped her cheeks, tried to smile, and stumbled to her feet."No, no, nothing," she said quietly. "I'm all right. Honest. I was just..." She paused, and then fled from the room.She hurried back to the apartment, and climbed the stairs with her pulse racing. She knew Donald and Ted would be. Jesus, what are you sorry for? You’re so fucking English, Emma. I sit waiting, on my bed. I did notice one thing: her breasts are not big. Of course they aren’t: she’s petite and perfectly-proportioned. But I do believe I have an edge on her in the boob department. Mine are ample and support themselves well: I’ve always been able to fill a tight top rather well. Petra emerges, thankfully wrapped up in a towel just like I am. She comes over to my bed and sits down to wait with me. “He did say something about another bell, right?” I ask. “Yes, I think so…so we wait.” “I wonder if it will be the same every morning…” Petra just plays with her fingers, waiting. This is one seriously cold woman. A few more awkward moments of silence. Then footsteps. We hear the bell come closer as it stops outside each room. A door slams in the distance. We don’t wait for the infernal bell to come any closer, and step out into the dim hallway. A couple of towelled women, only their shoulders and.
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