"Tonight, I want you to go home and go into separate rooms. Laura, you are going to write down everything you can remember of your first time with Steve. Write in the first and second person. I thought this. You did that. Write about what happened, what you both felt, what you both said. Just write the story of your first time. Steve, you are going to do the same thing, even though you don't remember it. Write what you hope it was like. You both need to be as explicit as possible. Write every dirty detail. When you're done, just go about your day. At night, kiss for a while, just like you've been doing, and then exchange stories. Read them in bed together, but don't talk about them. Just read them."

———————————————————————

"Steve, honey, are you done? Your dinner's getting cold," Laura called through the office door. She had finished her story hours ago, but Steve had been working non-stop for nearly five hours. He had either written her a novel, or this assignment was excruciatingly difficult for him. She was beginning to worry.

"I'm almost done, my pet," he croaked.

She bit her lip. He sounded awful. "Baby, it's ok if it's not quite perfect. It's even ok if you can't finish. Just come out and eat. You're scaring me."

"I'm almost done," he promised.

Laura rubbed her temples and leaned against the door. It had now been over a month since the accident, and she was still frustrated, but couldn't believe the kinds of things Steve was admitting about his parents in therapy. He was admitting things he'd never even told her, especially about sex. She was finally beginning to understand why he was the way he was. The first few weeks of their marriage made much more sense, and so did the past week. As much as she was going insane with desire and impatience, she knew it wouldn't be right to push him. He was very fragile and with good reason. While his parents may not have technically been abusive, she was beginning to see even more clearly how fine that line may have been. Whether it was intentional or not, they made him feel ugly, like they felt about themselves. They made him feel like he could never be good enough for the pretty girl next-door. They made him feel ashamed of his desires. They made him feel ashamed of masturbation, so much so that he'd never touched himself to completion. They made him feel like fantasizing about sex was despicable and fantasizing about someone in particular was perverted. Sex before marriage was unthinkable, and sex before the Urkel three months was a dishonor to the family. All of this made her think of and share their experience at that awful family reunion, the last time she had seen his parents. She tried to convey to Steve that that experience had taught him that his parents didn't really care about any of that stuff, but that didn't exactly help. It raised even more questions about why they raised him the way they did if they didn't even really believe what they were saying. One of his greatest mysteries was revealed in one of their sessions. Herb and Roberta Urkel were raised in strict, and undoubtedly abusive, religious households. That was why they had turned from God. That was why they had devoted their lives to science. That was why they were never able to love their son the way they were supposed to. They had never raised a hand to Steve, but they were never good parents. Steve had never stood a chance. As awful as all of this was for Laura to hear, she was incredibly grateful to have finally been let into his world, and when they were able to put all of those experiences together with what Laura knew of his experiences with his parents over the last nine years, they were able to paint a much clearer picture, if not one as clear as the one the real Steve must have already understood.

Laura returned to the kitchen table, where she'd already eaten, and sat, thinking deeply about their wedding night, which suddenly seemed miraculous to her. He had been a wreck, but he had pulled through. As difficult as it had been for him, he had made love to her, passionately and beautifully. She knew that if she was patient, he'd eventually be able to do it again. She just prayed she'd make it that long without tearing her teeth out.

———————————————————————

When Steve came out of the office at a quarter to ten, he was starving.

"Hey," Laura said excitedly from the couch when he walked into the main room. "All done?" she asked.

Steve blushed and nodded silently.

"I slipped your dinner in the oven so it would stay kind of warm," she said, "but you'll probably need to microwave it."

"Ok. Thank you, Sweetums," he said, walking into the kitchen. "I'm sorry it took me so long."

"That's ok," she said. "We're not in any hurry," she said sympathetically.

Steve smiled uncomfortably and popped his food in the microwave. He started it and looked back at Laura. She was staring at him like he was the last pathetic puppy in the litter. He hated that look. He didn't know that he and his twenty-five year-old self had that in common, but he hated it when she looked at him with so much pity. This was why he hadn't talked much about these issues before losing his memory. Now he had very little choice. It was either talk or lose her, and no matter how much that look made him feel emasculated and weak, he certainly wasn't going to risk losing her.

He ate dinner in silence as she read on the couch, but it was a more comfortable silence. It was their silence. When he finished, he cleared the table and looked at her. She closed the book and looked up at him. "Are you ready for bed?" she asked.

"If you are," he shrugged.

She stood and walked toward him. She took his hand and led him into the bedroom. They took their time on their nightly routine and then climbed in bed. They kissed passionately for twenty minutes, but eventually, they had to pull apart. Their assignment wasn't short, and it was getting very late.

———————————————————————

Night Seven:

Laura took her story from the nightstand and handed it to Steve. He took it from her hands and gave her his. He didn't really want to let go of it, but she pulled hard enough to slip it from his hand.

"So, we're not supposed to talk. We're just supposed to read," she reminded him.

"Mm-hmm…" he nodded.

"Are you really ready for this, Steve?" she asked.

There was that look again. "Yes, Laura," he said firmly. "I want to get past all this so that I can make love to my beautiful wife. I'm going to read this story."

Laura's lips parted slightly in surprise. That was blunt for this Steve. "Then go ahead," she purred. She smiled to herself as she began his story.

Three months after our wedding day, to the date, I came home to you with a bouquet of roses. "Do you know what today is?" I whispered softly in your ear as I held you against me.

"It's our three-month anniversary," you cooed.

I smiled against your neck. I knew you wouldn't remember. "It is, but do you know what that means?"

You inhaled softly. "Oh," you gasped as you remembered.

"We don't have to," I said firmly, turning you around to look you in the eyes. "If you're not ready, we can wait longer."

You smiled nervously. "No, I'm ready," you promised, wrapping your arms around my neck. "I want to consummate our marriage, Steve. I want to be your wife by every measure."

I smiled mischievously and pulled your lithe body against me. "Then I guess we know what we're doing after dinner tonight," I purred. You looked down at your feet bashfully.

I took you out on the town that night, trying to get your mind off of the momentous occasion awaiting us at home. We went out to a fancy dinner, and then I took you dancing for a couple of hours. It was late when we finally made it back to the apartment. I opened the door and held it for you.

"I think that was the best date we've ever been on," you said, turning to me as I walked in after you.

I couldn't wait any longer. I had been a gentleman all night, and for the last twenty one years of my life, and I couldn't take another minute of it. I rushed to you and pulled you into my arms, lifting you up as I kissed you relentlessly. I carried you into the bedroom and slammed the door behind us. I threw you down on the bed and jumped on top of you. I had shared this bed with you for three long months, hiding my desire from you, but it was finally over. You were finally going to be mine.

"Wait," you whispered, breaking our kiss.

"What is it?" I asked, lifting myself off of you slightly to meet your eyes.

"Shouldn't we change into our pajamas first? Our shoes really shouldn't be on the bedspread."

Though I suspected that was just a technique to stall, you were right. I had forgotten part of the tradition. I climbed off of you and walked into the office.

"Steve?" you called, afraid that you'd hurt my feelings.

"Just a second, my love. I forgot your present."

"I thought you said we don't exchange gifts for the three-month? That this was our gift?"

"We don't, and it is," I said as I walked back into the room with a small box. "But this is the one gift I'm supposed to give."

I handed you the box, and you slowly untied the bow. You lifted the lid to reveal a tightly folded, white, silk nightie. You went to take it out of the box, but I grabbed you and pulled you into my arms. I kissed you forcefully. When I pulled away, I instructed you gently. "Go put that on for me. I'll be right out here."

You nodded and walked away, clearly just trying to keep your breathing under control. As soon as you shut the door, I began to strip. Per tradition, I got completely naked and lay down in bed. I turned to my side, staring intently at the door. It was nearly pitch black in the room, but my eyes had adjusted. You turned off the light, hoping to hide from me when you came out, but I could still see you. You took a step toward me. The floor-length nightgown covered more than the dress you had worn out, but you still felt nervous. The fabric was thinner, and you weren't wearing a bra or panties, as the instructions in the box were clear. All that separated us was thin silk and the bedspread, but that would soon change.

"You look beautiful, my love," I whispered, tearing up slightly.

"Thank you," you replied just as softly, now standing at the edge of the bed.

I pulled the covers back for you and patted the bed. You sat hesitantly where I indicated. I inched closer to you and placed a hand on your thigh. "I've been waiting for this my whole life," I mused.

You glanced down at me and away again. "Me too," you choked.

I took a deep breath and sighed. I could hear the tone in your voice. "Laura," I began, "if you're not ready, we don't have to."

You looked down at me, staring more intently. "You wouldn't be disappointed?" you asked.

"I would be very disappointed, but I'd get over it. I'd never get over the horrible feeling of guilt I'd have if I made you do something with me you weren't ready to do."

"I'm not ready, Steve," you said immediately, looking away.

I sat up and kissed your forehead. "Then we'll wait," I agreed. I kissed your forehead again and hugged you tightly. "You just let me know when you're ready."

You nodded against me. "I love you," you whispered.

"I love you, too, Laura Lee, with all my heart."

Laura looked up from Steve's story as she read the last line. What the heck was that? Where was the sex?! "Um. Steve?"

"Shhh! We're not supposed to talk about them, remember?" he squeaked, clearly realizing she had finished his very short, unsatisfying story.

"This took you five and a half hours?" Laura asked in disbelief.

"We're not supposed to talk about them, Laura!"

"Honey, you didn't do the assignment," she said, pulling her story out of his hands. "We have to talk about that."

"I couldn't do it, Laura. I tried. I wrote, and I wrote, and I wrote. It was all disgusting and perverted."

"I'm sure it wasn't, Steve," Laura said comfortingly. "Was anything that you wrote any more explicit than mine?"

"I don't know," he answered. "I've only read the first paragraph of yours."

"What?" she asked.

"Laura, after the first paragraph, we climb into bed together, and you're just wearing that nightie, and I'm just in my boxers."

"And?"

"I can't read about that!" he whined.

"Steve, that's what happened!" Laura complained. "You have to read it. I want you to know what that night was like. That was the best night of my life." Laura felt tears beginning to sting her eyes. She tried to hold them back, not wanting to make him feel guilty for something that was out of his control, but she failed. "I hate that you don't remember our first time," she sniffled. "It was amazing. It was beautiful and passionate. You were so sweet and gentle. It felt soooooo good." She smiled to herself as she thought back to it. "You were so nervous, and I finally understand why, but you put all of that aside for me. You knew how badly I wanted to, and you wanted to, too, so you pushed all of that out of your mind so that we could finally be together. Our lives had been building and building to that one moment. We were meant to be, Steve, and that moment was destined to happen." She wiped the tears that escaped her. "And now, you don't even remember it."

Steve looked down at the story on the comforter. "Maybe you can just tell me about it."

"What?" she asked.

"Maybe it won't be so bad if you just tell me."

"Steve, you hate when I talk to you about sex."

"I don't hate it. It just makes me uncomfortable, but reading it is worse. I don't know why, but it is."

"Maybe because it feels so impersonal," she suggested, moving closer to him. She rested her head against his shoulder.

"Maybe," he agreed.

"How about I read it aloud to you?" she said.

He nodded. "We could try that."

"Lay down," she instructed. She placed his story on the nightstand, still planning to talk about it, and grabbed her own. She lay back with him, nestled in his arms, and began to read.

"You were so nervous. I reached out to touch your arm, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. I told you how strong you were, how badly I wanted you. You didn't believe me. I reminded you how much I loved you and how attracted to you I was. I reminded you that we wouldn't have been in bed together that night if it weren't for our inescapable, chemical attraction. Like you had said earlier that night, I had tried so hard not to fall for you, but it was impossible.

You made a request that I will never forget. You said, 'If we do this, I want to stay under the covers. I don't want you to… see me.' I thought to myself that you had to be joking, but it soon became clear that you weren't. Though I considered it, for a moment, because I wanted you to be comfortable, I quickly realized that I couldn't stand the thought of not seeing you. I loved you. I had waited a long time for this night, and I wanted it to be everything we had wanted. That meant we had to really worship each other's bodies. The question was how to get you to see that.

'Oh, ok,' I said. "So, how about the same goes for me then?'

Of course, you wouldn't go for that, which I quickly used to explain my desire for you. I asked you not to hide from me, and I pulled the sheet lower. I began to touch your chest and abs while I kissed your neck. I did it for as long as I could stand it to give you time to grow comfortable, but eventually, I pulled away. I asked you to get on top of me. You hesitated, but I insisted, and soon, you were between my legs.

We kissed for a minute, and then I asked you to touch my breasts. You slowly lifted one hand to my breast and held it. I couldn't believe how amazing it felt. I had felt some tingles there in the past, but I hadn't really experimented with myself, so I didn't really know how it would feel. Even just having your hand on it sent a shiver down to my womanhood, but I knew you could do better. I grabbed your hand, assuring you that I wasn't about to slap you away, and I guided it over my breast. You squeezed, massaged, rubbed. You did everything right. Then you added a second hand. It felt so good, and you looked so excited, but you weren't staring at my breasts like I wanted you to. I asked you if you liked them and begged you to talk to me about them. That was something we were struggling with, getting you to talk about sex.

Still, you hated the idea of talking about them, so instead, you took action. I was in shock when you pulled my nightie down and revealed my breasts. I couldn't help but smile at the goofy expression on your face. You looked so surprised, like a part of you hadn't been expecting you'd actually get to see them. I let you stare for a while to really savor the moment, but eventually, my nerves took over, and I needed you to say something. When I tried to get you talking, your brain turned back on, and you began to apologize profusely, going on and on about how much of a pig you were for wanting to see your wife naked, of all things, but I reassured you, and soon, we were talking almost comfortably.

After a few compliments, I let you touch them again. This time it was just my skin on yours, which made it even better. My nipples were so hard. I expressed that I was insecure about the size of my breasts, but you reassured me, and I was so moved that I practically begged you to suck on them. As you did, you began to undress me further. You were surprised to see that my garter was a pale blue. You took it off with your teeth, and began to rub my feet.

Soon, I asked you to touch me where it really counted. I was afraid to use the word and scare you again, so I just pointed at my panties. You touched me over my panties, rubbing gently. It took you a moment, but we were both pleasantly surprised when you found my clitoris. I asked you if you knew what it was, but you played dumb, which led me to an idea that got us through the night. I asked you to explain it to me in scientific terms, and soon, you were stroking my clit without fear. It felt nice over the panties, but nothing like it did once you'd taken them off. You said, 'Your lips are pinker than any sunset. You glisten brighter than any ocean. Your scent is more inviting than any wildflower.' I nearly melted.

Then you started to finger me. I had really never done that to myself. The only thing I'd ever felt inside me was a tampon, and that was much less sexy. Your finger, and later fingers, felt so amazing. It seemed like every new thing we did suddenly became the best thing I'd ever felt.

That trend certainly didn't stop when I asked you to 'kiss me down there'. You were so surprised, and I was so nervous. I had heard stories of so many guys who refused to do that for their partners, and I just couldn't believe there were so many women willing to put up with men like that. In the back of my mind, I was worried you'd say no, but of course, you didn't. You were ecstatic at the thought of tasting me, like it was some incredible honor. I can't tell you how happy I am that we didn't skip over that part. First, you kissed all over it. You moaned every time, too, like you were the one being pleasured. Then I begged you to lick my clit, mostly because I didn't know what I really needed was for you to suck on it. You teased me for a while, but then you began to lick at my entrance, which felt so good. It made me feel so good about myself, too, because it made me feel like you really liked how I tasted. Then eventually, you moved up to my clit again. You licked it a few times, but you knew better. You began to suck on it, and I nearly screamed. It was, again, the most incredible thing I'd ever felt. You started to finger me again, and you found my G-spot. I held on to you so tightly, never wanting you to stop, and you didn't, until I came. I didn't know what it was when it was happening, and neither did you, but I felt every muscle in my body tighten, and then this warmth came over me. I pushed you away, because it was too sensitive after, and you thought you'd hurt me. I hesitated before I explained what had happened, because I wasn't entirely sure, but I went with my gut and told you the truth. You didn't believe me, but I insisted, and I think I convinced you eventually.

Then it was your turn, and things almost went off the rails again. You told me you didn't need a turn, and when I insisted, you didn't let me touch you. My heart nearly broke when I asked for your permission, and you sadly shook your head. Eventually, I convinced you to trust me, and I reached my hand into your boxers. I gripped it for only a second before you came. I knew what had happened. There was cum on my hand. I also knew how embarrassed you were going to be. I pushed you down, straddled you, and kissed you immediately, not wanting to give you a chance to freak out. I said, 'You look so sexy when you come.' You couldn't believe I knew what had happened, but I showed you my hand and licked off your cum. You tasted so good, so manly, so salty. You were still mortified and apologetic, but I told you that we'd just wait until you were hard again. I assured you that it was no big deal and that it wasn't going to put a damper on our night.

You went down on me for another minute, but then we started talking about how big you are. I told you I was nervous about being able to fit you, and I could practically feel the pride radiating off of you, which, after the night we'd had, was a pretty big relief. You promised to make it fit and that you wouldn't hurt me.

It wasn't long before that conversation got you rock-hard again. It was finally time. You climbed on top, and I took off your boxers. You wouldn't let me touch, because we wanted to get you inside of me, but you let me look. It was so big, and I was so scared of it, but I could feel my desire bubbling in the pit of my stomach. I didn't know how on Earth you would ever fit that inside of me, but I was dying to find out. You went to get a condom, and I told you I was on the pill.

You climbed on top of me again and double checked, making sure I was really, really ready. I was, so you pushed just the head inside. I was stretched so far. The head, because it's bigger, is always the most difficult part, but that first time, I thought you were going to tear me apart. I still encouraged you. I said it felt great, and it did, kind of. In this weird, primal way, it felt great. I let you push in more and more, but soon, I couldn't take it anymore. I begged you to stop, which of course you did, but you didn't want to. You promised there was only a little left, but I couldn't fit anymore. I told you to just move in and out. You did, which quickly made me feel a thousand times better. It felt different than when you sucked on my clit, but it still felt amazing. I knew that I could get used to that. It was going to take us some practice, but when I started to feel you in the pit of my stomach, I knew we were going to be fine. Still, it wasn't long before your eyes met mine, like they always do. You slammed in that last little bit, which was anything but little, and came harder than you'd ever come in your life. I screamed, because it hurt, but then I felt your cum inside of me. It was so hot and soothing, and more importantly, I felt you relax on top of me. I knew it was over.

It wasn't that I was relieved that it was done, but I was relieved that there weren't going to be any more surprises. I had finally had sex. We had finally made love. I knew that we were going to do it a million more times in our lives together and that I was going to love each one. I knew that it could only get better, and it was already so good. Before that night, a part of me had been terrified that we wouldn't be sexually compatible, but even that first time, I could tell that that was definitely not the case. I knew we were going to memorize each other's bodies and pleasure each other in ways no one else could. I told you that I loved you, too.

You whispered in my ear, 'We consummated our marriage,' and I giggled because it was so sweet. You checked in and made sure I liked it. I told you the truth, that although it could and would someday be better, it was a wonderful first time. It was better than I'd imagined our first time. I loved it and you. You told me you were never moving, and I told you I didn't want you to. You apologized for hurting me, and I reassured you. It was natural, and it didn't hurt much. I didn't know this at the time, but I hadn't even bled. You kissed me and asked me if we could do it again, and although I really wanted to, I was way too tired. You spooned me all night, and I fell asleep thinking about how lucky I was to have a man like you.

Our wedding night was better than I'd ever imagined. It was the best night of my life. We've had better sex since, but nothing will ever rival how I felt finally giving myself to you. I knew how badly you wanted me, despite all of your nerves, and I wanted you to have me. I wanted you to have everything you'd ever wanted. I wanted to give you something to make you feel as special as you are to me. That night felt amazing for me, too. You made me feel safe, beautiful, and loved, but the reason that night means so much to me is because it was the first time in our lives that I made you feel that way. You deserve to feel that way, Steve. You deserve everything you've ever wanted. You are the best person I have ever met. You are my soul mate. I love you."

Laura lifted herself up to look down at him as she finished. He was crying. "Are you ok?" she asked.

"We're not supposed to talk about it," he reminded her.

"Baby, you're crying. You have to talk to me about it. Are they happy tears or–?"

"Yes," he whispered immediately. "They are so happy," he sniffled, pulling her into his arms. He kissed her forehead as he felt her relax against him. "That was beautiful, Laura Lee."

She was relieved that he had reacted so positively, but there was still a pinch in her gut. "I didn't do it justice," she admitted. "I wish you just remembered."

He heard the change in her voice and pulled her closer. "Someday, I will," he promised, holding her tightly as she really began to cry. "Someday, I will."

The rest of their plans for the evening were quickly put to rest as Laura began to sob. She hadn't realized how painful it would be to relive such a magical night without the man who was there with her. She had wanted to see the other drafts of his story. She had wanted to talk to him about why he had had so much trouble expressing his fantasies, but it was all out the window. She had been holding it together pretty well since he'd gotten out of his coma, but she just lost it that night.