I woke up even before the sun rose the next morning and started packing as soon as I had dressed. By the time Mrs. Simmons was serving breakfast, I'd packed all the gifts I'd purchased—a whole suitcase full. The only gift I hadn't packed was a memento for Mikhail: a photograph of the two of us on horseback, framed in a silver frame engraved with vines and roses and little songbirds, with a violin in one corner. I placed the photo inside the frame and wrapped it in tissue paper, tied it with a velvet ribbon, and tucked a tiny rosebud into the bow. Then I set it aside and went to join the other guests at the table.

Halfway through the meal, I heard the front door, and a moment later, Mikhail stepped into the dining room. I quickly gulped my tea, then joined him in the front parlor. He looked tired and pale that morning, but when I remarked on him looking unwell, he only said he'd slept poorly the night before.

He followed me up to my room, where I gave him his gift. He seemed pleased by it—the photo as well as the frame—and sat inspecting it for several minutes while I set out the clothes I'd need for the night and tomorrow and began packing the rest. After a little while, he looked up as I pulled clothing out of the closet to fold and pack. Setting the photo carefully on the table, he came over and put his arms around me. "Be sure to leave your nicest dress out," he murmured.

I turned and looked at him in surprise. "Oh? Do we have plans for tonight?"

He smiled at me. "Indeed we do." He gave me a kiss on the top of my head, then said, "Now, I'm finding all this packing to be a depressing reminder that our remaining time together is very short. Is there anything I can do to help you get it done more quickly, so that we can go enjoy the rest of our day?"

In the end, I pulled the clothes I wanted packed from the closet and drawers, and he folded them tidily for me to arrange in my suitcases. I held up three dresses for his inspection, letting him choose which to wear that night, since I didn't know what he had in mind. He looked them over: the black and white dress I'd worn our first night out, a gold evening gown with a halter neckline, and a lacy little black dress. He seemed torn between the gold dress and the black, but finally he chose the gold. I hung it up again, set aside the shoes and things I'd need to go with it, and finished packing.

After my packing was done, we spent the rest of the day revisiting some of the places we'd enjoyed most as well as exploring a few new ones. We stopped for lunch at my favorite sidewalk café, so that I could enjoy one last meal there, and relaxed afterwards in the shade of the large umbrella, sipping iced coffee as we watched passersby.

Mikhail returned me to my room at five, saying he'd be back at half past six to pick me up. He gave me a lingering kiss, then hurried away. I showered and styled my hair, did my nails and makeup, and slipped into the gown. I was just putting in my little diamond earrings when he knocked on my door.

I opened the door to let him in, but he stood still in the doorway for a moment, just looking at me. "You look... incredible. If I hadn't made reservations, I'd be strongly tempted to stay in instead," he finally said with a rueful look.

I blushed a little and reached up to straighten his tie to cover my embarrassment. "You look quite dashing yourself, you know," I replied with a smile, admiring his impeccable black tuxedo.

He'd hired a cab, as he said it was too far to walk even on a night as beautiful as this. Our destination turned out to be a hotel and restaurant designed to imitate a French chateau, about a twenty minute drive from Port Crescent. The hotel was called the Hôtel Château de la Belle Vue, and the restaurant was styled the Salle à Manger de la Belle Vue. The restaurant offered live music and ballroom dancing Saturday evenings all throughout the year, but during the summer months, they expanded it to five nights a week to meet the increased demand by tourists to the region. The menu, written entirely in French, featured classical French cuisine. The music alternated between a string quartet, a piano trio, and a flute quartet; the dances included waltzes, foxtrots, and more. I wasn't as familiar with ballroom dances as with the folk dances I'd learned from childhood, but I wasn't worried—I loved to dance, and knew I'd figure it out sooner or later.

Fortunately, Mikhail was an excellent dancer, and he led me through a number of dances that evening. The dinner was marvelous. Although I could read French reasonably well, I deferred to his greater knowledge and experience. He ordered a selection of amuse-bouche, consommé, and salade lyonnaise for both of us, then he chose braised quail for me and sole meunière for himself. He also ordered champagne and wine—but I drank far more moderately this time, having learned my lesson. Finally, we completed our meal with coffee and chocolate soufflé.

At the end of the evening, we took a cab back to my room, where I offered him a brandy. He accepted, and we sat in the sitting area. He seemed a little on edge, and I wondered if it was due to my impending departure.

As I sipped my brandy and wondered about his demeanor, he sat up and set his glass down. He took my glass and set it down, as well, then took my hands and looked wistfully into my eyes.

"Alice," he said after a lengthy pause, "every day I love you more and more. I wish with all my heart that I could go back and alter those eight years we were separated one from the other, so that we had never parted at all but instead shared our lives without interruption. I can't change the past, but I do hope for the future. I want to be absolutely clear about this, so that there aren't any misunderstandings between us."

He rose, then knelt down on the floor before me. "Alice, my dearest love. I want to spend the rest of my life with you... to grow old with you... to see you the first thing when I open my eyes each morning, and the last thing before I close them at night. Darling, will you marry me?"

I gasped, speechless for the moment. He reached up and stroked my cheek, saying, "You don't have to answer me right now. I know you haven't completed your... your test. But I want to be sure you understand just how serious I am about you. When I return to Konohana, you can give me your answer then, if you are ready. However...."

He stood and pulled me up, then embraced me tightly. Whispering softly, he said, "Will you let me stay with you tonight? I promise I won't break your vow. I just... don't want to let you go."

I pulled back and gave him a long look as I thought it over. I thought I already had an idea of how I would answer both proposals, though even then I wasn't entirely certain. In the meantime.... I walked over to my bed, folded back the covers, and sat down on the edge to remove my shoes and earrings. Standing again and looking back to Mikhail, who was watching me with an uncertain look on his face, I asked if he'd please help me with my dress.

His whole face lit up with mingled joy and relief, and he hastened to unzip me. Turning to face him, I looked him steadily in the eyes, and said with a hint of a smile quirking the corners of my mouth, "You may stay with me tonight. But I won't break my promise. So... the panties stay on." Then I slipped my dress off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

Mikhail inhaled sharply as he looked at me standing there, wearing nothing but a silk thong and stockings. I sat down on the edge of the bed and carefully pulled the stockings off, then I dropped my discarded clothing into the laundry basket in the bathroom and prepared myself for bed. Meanwhile, Mikhail undressed down to his boxers, laying his clothes on the loveseat, then sat on the bed and waited for me to finish before taking his turn to get ready for the night while I sat at my dressing table to brush my hair.

When he had finished his preparations, he came up to me, put his arms around me, and began to kiss me. He lifted me up and carried my to the bed, laying me down gently before sliding in alongside me. Tentatively at first, as if fearing I'd change my mind, he slowly began to caress me, one hand cradling my head while the other gently stroked my shoulder and down my arm, then over my side. I placed one hand lightly on the back of his neck as I returned his kiss, and with the other hand, ran my fingertips lightly up and down his spine and over his shoulders. Although he didn't have Kana's bulky build, I could feel his muscles, lean and taut under his skin, and once again was reminded of a wild cat poised to spring.

As I returned his caresses, Mikhail gradually relaxed and became more assured. Somewhere in the back of my mind it struck me as funny that someone who had several years' experience with older women could suddenly be so apprehensive and tentative with a naïve virgin. I think that's when it really hit home just how deeply he cared, so deeply in fact that it frightened him and left him feeling vulnerable.

As his confidence increased, his hands began to wander until he was caressing my breast, running his fingertips in concentric circles around my nipple until at last he reached the tip. I gasped, a wave of heat rushing through me as he gently rubbed it between the rough tips of his fingers, feeling it harden at his touch. I began to feel a tightening in the pit of my stomach—an intense yearning deep inside me—as he continued to stroke my breast and nipple.

I pulled him down closer to me and kissed him more urgently as the pressure in my belly began to build, making me squirm a little beneath him. I scraped my fingernails down his back and felt him gasp into my mouth, then he, too, began to kiss me harder—hungrily, as if wanting to taste and caress everywhere all at once. Then he pulled back and kissed first my upper lip, then my lower, and then across my cheek and down to my neck. He kissed down my neck, gently sucking and biting as he went, until he reached the point just above my collarbone, then he moved down to my breast.

I smothered a small cry when he cupped my breast in his hand and took my nipple into his mouth, gently sucking as his tongue caressed and swirled around it. The ache intensified and I felt little shocks, like pulses of electricity, tingling through my stomach and thighs.

He released my breast and began to kiss my throat as he slid his hand down, gently massaging my stomach. The tips of his fingers started to slide beneath my panties, then he stopped. He raised himself up and looked into my eyes, then he leaned down and whispered in a huskily seductive voice, "May I?" I hesitated for a moment, breathless and uncertain, then slowly nodded. He leaned back down to kiss me, then he gently moved my legs apart. He slid his hand down beneath the silk, and at his gently probing touch, I felt as if I was on fire. I was caught up in a whirlwind of confusion, wanting him to stop and not stop, to do... something.... I just didn't know what.

However, he knew, and he gently began to touch me in a way that both hurt a little and inflamed me a lot. Starting off slowly, he traced little circles around a sensitive spot I hadn't even known existed, and before long I felt as though I was riding on the crest of a wave. Then the wave crashed all around me in an explosion of light and color, and gasping, I felt myself convulsing helplessly beneath his touch as I moaned incoherently in my ecstasy.

When the fireworks and crashing and breathlessness subsided, I looked up at him, unsure what had just happened. He gazed into my eyes with a tender, adoring look and a smile on his lips. "Wh-what was that? What just happened?" I asked, both awestruck and embarrassed.

His raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You mean you don't know? You've never felt that before? Has no one ever touched you like that, brought you to orgasm—not even you yourself?"

My eyes opened wide and I clapped my hand over my mouth. "Is... is that what it was? No, I haven't... I mean, hadn't... ever had one. You know, being a virgin and all...." I looked away, feeling my face flush even more red and wondering if he'd expected me to have had at least that much experience.

His expression softened and he cupped my cheek in his hand, turning my face back to him as he gazed into my eyes. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. I should have guessed, or at least asked first." He nestled down against me, nuzzling my neck and resting his hand on my hip. "Thank you for letting me be the first to give you that gift," he whispered.

He held me in his arms afterwards, and soon his breathing slowed and deepened as he fell asleep. As I began to drift off, too, I thought to myself that I really didn't look forward to telling Cam about this night.

I'd set an alarm clock to wake me extra early, as I needed to be at the station before nine. I was very tired when it went off in the morning, after the unusually late night, and Mikhail was loathe to let go of me, making it even harder to get out of bed.

Eventually I dragged myself up and, seeing the time, hurried to dress and pack the last few items. Mikhail pulled on his trousers and shirt, carrying his jacket and tie. He helped me carry my luggage to the waiting cab, then waited while I settled my bill with Mrs. Simmons.

We made it to the station with very little time to spare. Mikhail flagged down a porter to take my luggage, and then it was time to say goodbye. Time was short, and so our farewell was necessarily brief. He looked down at me, caressing my cheek, and then bent to kiss me. "You know," he said, "I love you, more than words can say. Have a safe journey, my love, and I'll join you soon. And I hope you will have an answer to my question by then."

I kissed him back and held him tightly for a minute, pressing my face against his chest and breathing deeply of the lingering traces of his cologne. "Goodbye, Mikhail. Take care, and I'll see you soon," I replied, then I turned and ran to hop onto the train as it began to slowly move along the tracks.

I looked out the window and watched him as the train moved away. The image of him standing alone on the platform, watching me go away from him, stayed with me for the duration of the trip.