Title from "Funny (Not Much)" © 1952, Marcia Neal, Philip F. Broughton, Bob Merrill, and Hughie Prince.
PROLOGUE
"Why a train?" she had asked, her scrumptious lips puckering into a moist, strawberry pout. "That's so old-fashioned!"
He had chuckled and taken her sulky little chin between finger and thumb. "It's the experience, honey," he had said. "Taking the train to Niagara Falls is an experience you'll never forget."
She had squirmed between the satin sheets in the bed at the Sands, whining charmingly. "But all the way from Nevada? We'll be stuck on the train for days and days with no one to have fun with and nothing to do but—"
Then the light had come on, and her eyes went wide as a naughty smile spread across her face. She had giggled happily, climbing into his lap with a spirited cry of, "All aboard!"
The memory brought an anticipatory grin to his lips as he sat in an armchair in the smoking car, puffing on a Chevillo cigar. Here they were, on board the overnight to Chi. There, they would transfer for the Niagara Falls run. It was eleven in the morning, and he had been married all of ninety minutes. He had given her the pick of the chapels on the Strip, and she'd opted for class. They had said their vows in a pretty little walk-in done in white and black. The justice, or minister, or whatever you called the proprietor of such a place, had officiated in a cream-colored tux. Two of the bride's friends had served as (giggling) witnesses; the groom didn't have any friends. Not the kind you'd invite to a Vegas wedding, anyway. Once upon a time he had had buddies like that, but not any more. Ah, well. Them's the breaks.
This had been, actually, his most expensive wedding. The first one had been sweet and small: her family and friends, his squadron, and a little church by the sea. The second wedding he recalled as a media circus. NASA had footed the bill and written it off as part of the Public Relations stunt of the decade. The third had been by far the largest: a Jewish matrimonial festival that despite the haste had had almost two hundred guests and all the trimmings. The father of the bride had financed this, and all that the groom had had to worry about was his Hebrew pronunciation. The fourth, twenty-five months ago, had taken place at Wickenburg City Hall, and in place of a reception they'd had a romantic lunch in the airport cafeteria before heading off to Hawaii. Though this fifth ceremony had totaled up to ninety-five dollars and the honeymoon was reasonable, he and his fiancée had spent four days in Vegas prior to the nuptials, and between them they had netted a loss of forty-seven hundred dollars. More than he made in a month even before tax, benefit and alimony deductions. Lots of alimony deductions.
He drove back the impending financial headache. He'd worry about the money later. They had had a good time, and what was awaiting him in the compartment when his forty-minute exile expired…that was priceless.
MWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWM
In the compartment, she was in a quandary. In the closet-like bathroom, the contents of her lingerie bag were scattered around as if the piece of luggage had exploded. Tears of frustration were coursing down her cheeks, and she rumpled her silky golden hair in dismay. What—oh, what!—was she going to wear?
She hadn't given it a thought until now, but as cute, sexy, or downright raunchy as her many ensembles were, he had seen them all over the course of their courtship! If you could call it a courtship. She had thought long and hard before finally working out a new game they could play to celebrate the solemnizing of their relations, and she had one that was perfect! It was quirky, creative and erotic, and she knew that he'd love it, but it would ruin the novelty to have him come in and find her in a familiar negligee!
She looked at her reflection in the mirror, and despite her distress she had to smile. She was beautiful. He was always saying that: she was beautiful. No one had ever seen her that way before. Sexy, sure. Hot, yeah. But beautiful? Her new husband was the first and only man who had ever used that word, and the way he used it made you believe him. You had to believe him: you just couldn't help it.
With his perception of her in the forefront of her mind, she studied herself in the glass. Perfect skin, smooth hair that brushed her shoulders, glittery eyes and a neat, slender mouth. Her powder-blue dress set off her trim, statuesque figure impeccably.
Inspiration struck. She was beautiful: he had said so. She didn't need novel lingerie. She didn't need lingerie at all. Off came the dress, shoes, stockings and undergarments. She heard him murmuring "You're beautiful, so beautiful!", and suddenly she was pleased with what she saw. It was a strange and elating sensation. For the first time in longer than she could remember, or wished to, she looked at herself and she liked her body.
The moment of awed revelation could not last. Time was running short. She opened her makeup case and took out the packet of bright, primary green leaves she had picked up just for this moment.
In the compartment, she climbed into the upper bunk and set about preparing herself to meet her bridegroom.
MWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMThat was it: forty minutes. He made his way back to their compartment, his body swaying in time to the rocketing train. He could hardly restrain his excitement as he opened the door and slipped inside.
There she was: Venus herself, except that instead of a half shell she was displayed in a fold-down railway bunk. The white bedding surrounded her like a pillow of cotton clouds. Her gorgeous, long legs shifted seductively as she saw him, and her slender lips parted in a radiant, mischievous and alluring smile. She extended one foot and touched the tip of his nose with her dainty big toe. Something tickled his nostrils and he sniffed experimentally.
Mint.
Mint?
It was! Her feet smelled of fresh mint!
Seeing the realization in his eyes, she giggled and moved her foot down to brush his lip. He chuckled in delight. So that was what she wanted.
His tongue flicked against her toe. This was going to be quite the honeymoon.