Free OF DREAMS AND CEREMONIES by Julie Bozza

instinctively to rest a reverential hand against her stomach - and thought better of it just in time. But Denise took his hand and held it against her warm belly, still flat yet full of possibilities. "I've missed you, you know."
    "It won't be long now, and I'll be home again."
    "And your man with you, where he belongs."
    Dave grinned at her, no doubt a bit lopsidedly. "Where we both belong, yes."
    Denise turned away, busying herself with the unpacking. But she quieted after a moment, and said, "You're still sure about this, are you? Getting hitched, I mean."
    "Yes. Why?"
    "It's all happened pretty quick, that's all."
    "It was quick for you and Vittorio, too. You just know, don't you? You know when it's worth trying, anyway."
    "Yes."
    "And this whole 'Seize the Day' philosophy has a lot going for it."
    Denise laughed a little under her breath, and shot him a glance. Apparently if she'd really had any worries, he'd just convinced her as easily as that.
    He watched as Denise carefully hung up the wedding clothes in one of the wardrobes, and then he dared to say - now while they were still a bit punch drunk with jetlag or the reunion or the early start to the day. He dared to say, "Nicholas has this thing, you know …"
    "So I gathered."
    "Ha ha." And he was blushing already. Dave sighed, and continued anyway because he knew Denise wouldn't let him get away with changing the subject now. "He asked me if … if I'd wear something silk. To bed. And I guess he wasn't talking pyjamas."
    Denise came and sat beside him, and considered him seriously. "What d'you think about that?" she asked.

    He shrugged. "I'm not meant to tell you. In fact, I said I wouldn't. He was - When you talked to him about the silk shirt for the wedding, he was mad at me, cos he thought I'd told you."
    "So why are you telling me now?"
    "I want you to help me. You did good with the wedding clothes. I figured you could help me with this."
    Denise reached to grasp his hand for a moment, and then let him go before asking very matter-of-factly, "Are we talking lingerie? Something a woman would wear?"
    Dave's face was waratah red, he could feel it, but he pushed on. He could trust Denise, and he wanted to make Nicholas happy. "I don't know. He said it didn't have to feminine, he just liked silk. But then he said actually that didn't matter, and he started talking about how he likes it best when I'm - um … When there's no barriers, yeah? Does that make sense? When it's just him and me …" He gestured, helplessly, with both hands miming the gates over his heart opening - and then flitting to and fro between their mutually engaged gazes.
    "Davey - "
    "Mmm?"
    "He's not into … humiliating you. Is he?"
    "No! God, no, nothing like that."
    "You trust him?"
    " Totally ."
    "He wants to … really experience that, I guess."
    "Yeah, I guess so. And it's good, you know? When it's intense like that." Dave looked at her. "I need your help, Denny. I need you to figure out what I could wear - I mean, what it would take - to go far enough for him - and not too far for me."
    "If you really trust him," she said very carefully, "then what would be too far?"
    "Well, you know. If I just ended up feeling ridiculous. Would be kinda counter-productive. Don't you think?"
    "Yeah, I get it." She frowned over all of this for a long moment with her head down, and then reached to hold his hand again. "No worries, mate," Denise said softly, her gaze meeting his with no judgement. "No worries. We'll figure it out."
    And Dave let out a breath he'd barely known he'd been holding.

    On the following Saturday night, Robert and Penelope took Denise and Vittorio out for dinner, and left Nicholas and Dave at home to celebrate a joint buck's night - not only with Charlie, but also with Zoe and Robin and all the other Goring children. They took over the family lounge room and played games, watched Monsters, Inc . and generally had a wonderful time. Nicholas read aloud from a Roald Dahl book chosen