That straightjacket-tight pantyhose made the derriere look better under a knit dress was an inescapable fact of life. Marcy turned to stare at her backside in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She ran her hands down over her trim waist and hips, then turned around to enjoy the sight of her well-rounded breasts in the soft, clingy fabric.

She wanted to look especially nice tonight. Paul would be there shortly to take her ‘somewhere special’ for dinner. Since this was their usual date night, she wondered exactly what was up that he was making it into such a big deal. Hmmmmm. Well, there were a few things she could think of that might qualify. She reached over and got the pearl earrings her mother had given her for her twenty-first birthday and carefully hooked them into her ears. Her gaze came to rest on her hand, focusing in on her bare third finger. Was he about to… ? Her eyes widened, the breath catching in her throat as she bit her lower lip and let her heart hope.

She added the matching pearl necklace… just for luck.

Bridge Street Town Center. Conner's Steak & Seafood on the water by the footbridge. Candlelight dinner overlooking the manmade lake. The full moon reflecting down in the water, smiling back at her from above and below. Good food, good wine… very good company. Even a romantic fire in the fireplace right there in the restaurant. Check. Check. And check. Yessssss. All the elements were in place as Marcy lingered over the gourmet coffee and slice of German chocolate decadence she and Paul were sharing. Any minute now.

She put down her fork and reached over to touch her ring finger. It must be psychosomatic. It had been itching like crazy all night long. Several times she had to consciously stop herself from scratching it right in front of Paul. She smiled to herself. Well, what do you know? Her finger was as excited by the prospect of an engagement ring from Paul Callahan as her heart was.

And her heart had wanted him to be all hers from the first time she'd set eyes on him; back in tenth grade when she'd transferred to the new school and he was The senior stud all the girls were dying over. One look at him and she had almost walked into a wall. He was tall and handsome and had a sexy ‘big man on campus’ swagger when he walked. He was also dating Becky Carter, a girl she had taken an instant dislike to for the completely obvious reasons that she was a sweet, blue-eyed blonde cheerleader who was built like a Barbie Doll… and dating ‘Marcy's boyfriend.’ The fact that Paul had no idea the flat-chested little sophomore girl with the head full of brown curls was even on the planet at that point was irrelevant. He was hers… or going to be just as soon as he woke up and realized it. She could wait. In the meantime, she had wondered if mojo dolls and stick pins really did work or if the gris-gris woman she'd met when they were stationed overseas had just been pulling her leg.

She hadn't had long to wait. Within a month Paul and Becky had parted ways-as usually happened with high school romances at the end of the summer-and with no help from Marcy.

Her mind came back momentarily from the past when the waiter brought Paul the check. She watched the face of the man before her and remembered the boy he'd been. While he handled the paperwork, she let her mind drift back down the years to that first day-that amazing, life-changing day-when Paul had saved her and ‘They’ had begun.

"She looks like she's about eight years old. I bet she doesn't even shave her legs, yet.” The girl's snide voice caused Marcy to stiffen. As the new girl in school, there was always a brief period of territorial skirmishes to endure, but that usually settled down pretty quickly. This time, this school, it hadn't. Cherie Serginter had decided Marcy didn't belong on ‘her’ planet and had made it her ongoing mission to let the new girl know that it would be better if she just evaporated now and quit taking up space. Marcy sighed and kept walking.

"So Mer-cee. Have you tried drinking more milk? Maybe if you poured it directly onto your chest they might get the idea. Or you could just borrow some of your dad's socks and do some stuffin'.” The hateful girl snickered. “You're a real pirate's dream come true… got your own sunken chest.” The other girls laughed. Bullies were the same all over the world. Get a group and pick a victim.

They followed her across the courtyard, as she hurried to her next class, and temporary safety. Almost there. She had the building in sight when things suddenly escalated. A hand in the middle of her back pushed her forward, causing her to lose her balance and the books and papers in her arms to go flying. She stumbled and barely managed to keep her feet. Another shove and she went down to her knees and found herself surrounded. One of Cherie's gang picked up her purse where it had landed in the grass and started to open it to see if there was anything in there they might want.

"I wouldn't do that.” A quiet male voice intruded into her humiliation.

Instantly, all the girls froze. A couple of them giggled nervously. Cherie licked her lips, puffed her chest out, and stepped forward. “Hi, Paul. How's it going?” She had dropped her voice, trying to sound alluring, but to Marcy's ears it just sounded like a cheap line from a bad B flick.

He looked Cherie over and then, without taking his eyes off the short, stocky girl with the overdeveloped rack, reached out and snatched Marcy's purse back and handed it down to her. “Here."

Marcy took it and snapped it closed again. “Thank you."

He grasped her by the elbow and helped her to her feet. “You okay?"

"Yeah. I just need to get my stuff and get to class."

"I'll walk you over there.” He turned to the circle of wannabe thuggettes. “Well, just don't stand there, ladies. Pick her stuff up and hand it back to her.” He stepped straight into Cherie's space, forcing the girl to step back. “Now."

The girl's mouth got a mulish set to it and her eyes darted around Paul to glare at Marcy. Paul didn't budge or speak another word. After a few moments Cherie nodded and her little gang of five started picking up Marcy's books and papers and shoving them back at her.

"Now get the hell out of here and leave her alone.” He dropped his voice and leaned close to whisper into the pack leader's ear, “Or else."

Apparently, Paul Callahan didn't just walk like a big man on campus-he was one. The girls groused while they did as ordered; but they did as ordered, and that was what counted in Marcy's book.

Once they were alone he turned to give her his undivided attention. “They give you any more trouble, let me know. They have a rep for trying to be tough and making life miserable for any new girl coming in.” He reached out and tweaked a leaf out of Marcy's riot of curls. “Don't take it personal. You weren't the first. And I'm afraid you won't be the last.” He stopped and actually looked at her. “Marcy, right?"

"Yes.” She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “And you're Paul."

"Where were you headed when…?” He indicated the direction the girls had stomped off with the twitch of his head.

"Oh, just study hall. Coach Rosetti."

"I'm heading that way. I'll walk you over. Here, let me take those.” Without waiting for her to agree, he hefted the load of books out of her arms and fell in beside her. “Lead on."

Oh My God! Paul Callahan. Carrying her books and walking her to class. Her day had just gone from less than zero to home run! It was worth the humiliation she'd endured. Well, almost worth it. Her pride was still stung, but her mom and dad would be proud she hadn't gotten into a fight with the girls. She glanced over at Paul and blushed all the way to the roots of her hair. He was looking straight at her. Staring was more like it. She stopped and stared right back at him.