A man—was it Lewis? It must be Lewis—she could not make out his face, everything was blurred—was clasping her in his arms while the world spun dizzyingly around them. If he turned loose she would fall. “Don’t let me fall!” she tried to say, but her traitor lips were numb. They would not shape the words. The buzzing in her ears grew louder. From deep inside, a blind, primordial ache swelled to fill her whole being. If you don’t know what you’re doing, Ursula thought giddily, it doesn’t count. A good Catholic all his life, Finbar had remained chaste in a society where male virginity was not uncommon. Behind the dam of abstinence a mighty reservoir had filled to overflowing. Now nature reclaimed her own. Tentatively at first, but with increasing confidence, his body took charge. The first touch of naked womanflesh against his penis was maddening. It took all the willpower he had accumulated in decades of rigorous self-denial to keep from climaxing. Panting, he had to stop for a moment.
