Standing at the back of the church, poised for the ritual march into domesticity, she looked as wild and as raw and as pixieishly beautiful as the first time he had seen her naked. Her unending defiance and hunger added a shimmer and an aura to the long flowing pure white of her dress that he had never seen in any bride before. A sense of pride swept through him, even though he did not, and could not, own her. She was the one who owned him, the one who prepended "my" to his name when she spoke of him, through thick and thin and other people, ever since their first half-violent, half-drunken encounter.

She had been late for the service. He was sure that more than a few people who knew her well were wondering if she had changed her mind. He suspected he had wondered more than most; tried not to reveal the swirl of his thoughts; stared at the memories instead of those around him; stared at the memories and smiled.

The image which persisted, even now as she stood there, the organist fumbling to get reorganized, perhaps having assumed long before the rest of them had given up that the bride had skipped town, was of her standing naked before him, ten minutes after they met, curly dark hair thoroughly tangled, clothes ripped off in a frenzy he missed when he turned to lock the conference room door, her tan dancer's body all long limbs and high breasts, ready to be taken, needing to be taken, the biting clawing, colliding, pounding, urgent sparring fuck which was to come written all over her movie-star face and gleaming in her big blue eyes.

He was hers for sure, as always, as forever. No ceremony, no church, was going to change the nature of their relationship, any more than the committee trying to use the conference room, pounding on the door, searching frantically and loudly for the key, had kept them from that first incredible encounter.

Her not showing up, that would have changed things. Almost did. Almost caused a panic in him. But he was fine now. She was there. The music was playing. Everyone was standing at attention, facing her, showing their respect, as she strode down the aisle, confidently, purposefully, as gracefully and as in time to the music as everyone expected of her, staring straight ahead into the future, radiant and beaming, half way up the aisle now, turning her head, and just for a second, just for a second, sticking out her tongue as she passed him.