Susan, although trying desperately to respond lovingly, found herself again growing tense and alarmed as her young husband rubbed the contours of her buttocks. She nestled her body against his, still kissing him, struggling with every ounce of strength at her command to return his warm caresses in kind, but inside, her mind was a seething torrent of terrifying images. Vivid pictures of the drooling nightmare-men who raped her in her childhood dreams once again leered up at her from the murky depths of her unconscious, and her body began to stiffen with a vast unnameable anxiety.

Oh please, she screamed inwardly, please don't let this happen again. I want to love him, and want to be a good wife!

But it was useless. Tim's hand was sliding along her leg now, at the same time pulling her dress upward. In the next minute he had slipped his fingers under the hem and was inching them up beneath her dress toward her panty-covered vagina. She was shaking with fright now, and insect-like twinges of humiliation seemed to crawl over her skin as her fingers crept closer and closer to her most private area. She broke the kiss and buried her face in his chest, trying to keep from screaming in agony. His hand was getting closer and closer… it was crawling up her inner thigh like a spider, a huge spider! Oh God! It was horrible! Horrible! No… nooo!!

Involuntarily, the terrified young wife suddenly pulled fiercely away from her amorous husband, her face twisted into a shrewish expression of contempt, and in the next moment, without realizing what she was doing, she slapped Tim full on the face. Her young husband reeled back drunkenly, utterly surprised.

"You bitch!" he shouted, as he recovered his senses, "You Goddamn bitch!"