She leaned into him, kissing the space where the stiff white collar of his shirt met his neck. He felt a thrill that mesmerized him. Wordlessly, he led her to the bedroom.

To his surprise and discomfort, the brand-new twin beds had been pushed together and covered with a colorful, king-size comforter.

“Do you like it, the comforter? My mother bought it for us as a present,” she told him shyly. “All we had were twins.”

Her mother. Of course, he thought. No religious person would make up the beds of a married couple this way. The very suggestion that their bed was a king and not twins that could be pushed apart during the many days when they would be forbidden to even touch, or pass each other a plate, let alone share a bed, would be considered by Boro Park standards shockingly inappropriate.

“It’s wonderful,” he answered with a strange enthusiasm she found amusing. It was true. He loved it; loved the illusion it created of a space that would always unite them, brushing over the reality.

“Should I use the bathroom to get undressed?” she asked uncertainly.

Disappointment filled his heart. He had so looked forward to something banishing the old ghosts. “Of course.”

He waited patiently. To his surprise, she soon returned, still fully dressed.

“I can’t manage these buttons.”

He smiled, pulling her close. His fingers fumbled in the darkness, missing the tiny lace hoops.

“Wait.” She switched on the small night lamp, turning her back to him. “Can you see them now?”

He nodded, the flicker of light forbidden and thrilling. Slowly, carefully, he pushed the little, slippery pearl buttons through the tiny hoops, his fingers tingling with desire. And when he had unfastened them all, she held the dress against her chest modestly.

“The lamp, Yaakov?”

“Please, Leah,” he begged her suddenly.

She turned to him, startled. Then, looking into his pleading eyes, she deliberately withdrew her arms from her sleeves, stepping out of the dress and her half-slip, laying both carefully over a chair. Slowly, one by one, she pulled out the little pearl pins that had held back her hair, letting her reddish-gold curls cascade down her back.

He reached out tentatively, running his fingers through her curls, something he had been longing to do from the moment they met. Lifting her hair in a bunch off her back, he was shocked at the smooth, pearly whiteness of her skin, the way it glowed with youth.

She didn’t mind being in her bra and panties, but him being still fully clothed made her feel shamefully exposed. She reached over, moving his black suit jacket off his shoulder.

A light seemed to go on in his head. He smiled a little mournfully. “How stupid! Of course,” he murmured, stepping back to undress.