Robert Bradley looked down at the nude form of his wife lying on the bed next to him. She is a hell of a beautiful woman, he thought.

Her breasts were large and full, pick tipped and rigid, even though she was on her back. Her eyes were half closed, but even then they seemed large and innocent. She had the most beautiful figure he had ever seen on a woman.

It didn't seem possible that they were finally married. Regardless of the fact that they'd known each other for years--most of their lives. She was the first woman he'd ever had. They'd always planned to get married but then....

Then when Carol had turned seventeen, the urge to become a movie star with her name in Big Lights had been too strong for her. The high school Talent Show and Drama class play had proven to her beyond any doubt that she had great talent and would take the film world by storm.

First it had been just wishing; dreaming to see the big city of the stars. Then when she had turned eighteen the desire became overwhelming. After graduating from high school she'd gone off to Hollywood. That was ages ago.

It amazed Robert to realize how long it had been. Almost ten years. Ten long years of waiting.

A lot of things had happened to them both during that time. For him there had been four years in the Air Force. Traveling all over the world. That had been his means of escaping all the things that reminded him of Carol in the town where they had grown up. His was of getting a real thick slice of life.

Then coming back to Boise, he had gone into partnership with a friend running a small air field just outside of town. A lot had happened. He felt a pang of pity for another person--a woman, their secretary. The woman he was dating before Carol returned to live with her parents.

But that was life. He'd known Carol for years, and Norma for only a few months. Actually nothing more than one of many such affairs he'd enjoyed over the years.

"What are you thinking?" Carol asked in a low, almost child-like voice.

He looked down at her, gazing into her wide, innocent eyes. Reaching out a hand, he tenderly caressed her forehead, letting his fingers run into the light blonde locks of hair.

"Thinking about us. All the things that have happened." He paused and then continued: "I was thinking about what I had done after you left ... but you never say anything about your life in Hollywood. Ten years, almost. Ten years that you won't share!"

"They weren't mine to share with you!" she said, half bitterly. Her eyes silently pleaded for him to change the subject, then looked away, avoiding him.

"What in the world does that mean?"

"Nothing. Oh, nothing. Let's not talk about that!" she stated almost sharply. Like she always did when he brought up the subject. Her past was a dark secret that she kept locked up inside, refusing to offer more than a glimmer. A vague comment about Hollywood being a tough game. Maybe someday she'd open up.

He didn't say anything for a moment. He had the feeling that Carol was ashamed of what had taken place in Hollywood. She always avoided comment concerning those years. But she had been changed by her experiences--that much he knew. More bitter; more hardened. But then, he wasn't a kid, either. He'd seen the whole world. The suffering. They both had changed a lot; and maybe that was good, because if one of them hadn't matured then they might not have been able to fall in love with each other again. And that had happened so very fast. One day she had called him. It was an openly "aggressive move" as she said it over the phone.

"I was hoping you weren't married," she announced the moment he recognized her voice.

A choke had lumped in his throat and it was difficult to get rid of it.

"I thought," she continued, quite bright and confident, "we might get together for dinner or something. Talk over old times. I've been in town for a couple of weeks. I checked with a few friends. Horrid of me, wasn't it? A terribly aggressive move, me calling you like this. But I simply had to look you up. Could we?"

That's when his voice returned. "Carol. My God. I can't believe it."

"What's there to believe?"

"You visiting the old home town. That sophisticated Hollywood lady..."

"Oh, poo, forget all that. I'm here to stay. Well, at least, if it is possible to pick up my life."

"What happened?" he inquired, "didn't it work out?"

"Nothing works out like we dream when we're kids."

"What happened?" He wanted to know everything. All at once.

"Oh, nothing of interest. Really. I don't want to talk about it, to be truthful."

"Married?"

"No. Never went there."

"Oh."

"I heard you almost got married a couple of times."

"No, not really. Just dated. I guess you'd call them affairs. Nothing lasting or totally serious."

"That's not what I've heard."

"Well, you simply heard rumors and junk like that. Isn't what happened."

"People talk, but what do they know?" he offered. He didn't dare say what he was feeling at that moment. He had never fallen out of love with Carol. Through he hardly expected things to return to where they were so many years ago. Teenage crushes and love affairs were one thing, adult relationships another. They certainly were strangers, now. Even though it didn't seem like that. "When can we get together?"

"Is tonight too soon?" she asked. "I really think it would be wonderful meeting you again. Maybe ... wonder if we've changed too much."

Too much for what? He didn't even dare let himself consider that. Yet the question nagged his brain like a spear rammed into place, or a brand burned into his brain: was there a chance they could pick up from where they had left off?

He was surprised by that. The implications were obvious. He never had a chance to think much about them--for from that moment on he was on a roller coaster ride that kept on going for weeks. That very first night they'd gone out for dinner and then ended up having breakfast in bed in his house. The very bed they were now in. The instant they had seen one another it was obvious what would happen. And that very next morning in bed he knew that they would be together from then on. A few weeks later they'd gotten married. It was all a whirl wind, without stop, thought or consideration of anything other than the thrilling reality that nothing basically had changed, other than a resounding return to the feelings they'd shared years before for one another--plus her interest in an acting career totally gone. All she wanted to do was settle down and raise a family with him. Nothing else seemed to matter.

And that's all he had ever thought he wanted.

He refocused his gaze on Carol. She was smiling up at him, her eyes sparkling.

"You know..." she started to say, "I ... I have a ... surprise for you."

"What?" He jerked up in bed. It was past midnight.

She looked down, shyly. "I ... I just wanted to wait for the right time to tell you. I wanted to drop it into the conversation so that you'd really be surprised."

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

She struggled with the words. "What I'm trying to say is that if I suddenly want ... want pickles and ice cream or something like that--in the middle of the night..."

Robert suddenly jumped up in bed. His face lit up. "You're kidding!"

She nodded her head up and down, excitedly. "The doctor said in around eight months, from what he could tell!"

"A boy!" Robert said, excitedly.

"How do you know?"

"It better be!"

"But I want a girl!" she teased.

He looked slightly disappointed. "Okay, then--it can be a girl! But she better look like her mother!"

They laughed and she pulled him down toward the cushions of her full breasts. Then after a while they weren't thinking of babies!

The flood of desire; the heat of ecstatic excitement; the lava flow of burning sensual union. All moved through them, churning their forms. Thrashing them to a peak and then blowing them over the mountain cliff and down into the valley of peaceful rest below!

Robert didn't know how long he had slept before Carol woke him.

"What's wrong. dear?" he asked.

"I thought I heard a sound outside."

"I'll go check," he said, slipping out of bed. Reaching for his bathrobe he put it on and then moved from the room, without looking back at Carol.

He'd just gotten to the front door when he heard the sound of glass breaking. At first he couldn't make out in what direction it had come.

Then he heard a scream.

Carol's voice!

"Bob!" It was filled with terror and hopelessness, as if for some reason she were shouting his name for the last time!

Then there was the sound of gun fire.

Not one bullet. Not five, but a splattering sound of a sub-machine gun!

Robert was already rushing forward; and even when he heard the gun fire he didn't stop.

He ran into the bedroom, then came to a frozen halt.

Carol was lying outstretched on the bed. Her form twisted; her face distorted in the agony of death. Bloody holes were splattered all over her body. The bed was slowly turning crimson.

There was the sound of a car pulling away from the curb, but Robert didn't really hear it. He wasn't hearing anything at that moment. He was only conscious of one thing.

Carol was lying on the bed in a pool of her own blood--dead!

Then something snapped in his brain. All awareness slipped away. He moved without knowing what he was doing. He cried like a baby, without knowing he was doing it.

The police found him on the bed, the bloody, twisted form of his wife clutched tightly against him. He was saying over and over again, "I love you. I won't let you die. I love you. I won't let you die. I love you. I won't let you die!