Not Our Wedding
It was a humid summer afternoon, when we made our heading to this place on the waterfront, overlooking the beach. It has been a while since we've both met the couple, but since we were part of their social ring, and the fact that they both had little family -- most of the wedding guests were friends, to different level of closeness. We weren't THAT close, but enough to feel compelled to show.
My lovely wife had a swirling summer dress on, one that accented her natural beauty and discernable assets. I had a set of plain trousers and short-sleeved polo shirt, my almost everyday uniform, with the twist of a little tie for the more formal part of the evening. Though it was hot, the cool wind from the sea made it all much more bearable.
The wind had also a secondary effect: with the occasional gust, my beloved's dress would swirl around her legs, either making the dress hog her body tighter or revealing some appetizing thigh. Anyway, by the time we've reached the place I was hot, and not for the ceremony.
We got in and found our seat -- thank the lord for A/C! -- And got some drinks on the way. Soft music was playing and it seems that things were already underway: usually those things don't start on time, but the hot weather and midweek timing of the event got people in a hurry to get to the important part, the food. We got up to escort the couple to the ceremonial alter, along with the rest of the crowd, and as the blessings from the host began to sound, we withdrew a bit to avoid the high-pitched speakers.
I had my hand on her waist as we stood by and watched when she leaned backwards and rested her head on my chest.
"I was so scared when I was there," she pointed her chin toward the bride, standing clad in white adjacent from the alter, "...I could barely breath. Then I looked at you," she turned, looking me deep in the eyes, "and I knew everything will be all right." I leaned my head down and she stretched her neck as we kissed slowly, deeply, lovingly. My tongue moved out to caress her lips as she parted them, letting me in. carefully. I threw my arms around her, pulled her close and tight -- as so we stayed for a few heartbeats.
When we detached, she cuddled herself against me, resting her head on my chest. "Do you still feel that way?" I asked silently. She nodded without raising her head, and I planted a kiss on her forehead. That's when a cry of joy came from the crowd -- the ceremony was over.
We moved with the crowd back to our table, to discover that our table-buddies are a vibrant group of friends, hailing from the south of the country, where the groom is from. We hit if off immediately, with my friendly attitude and lame jokes cracking the ice, and my wife's calculated cynicism putting the spice in the conversation. We kept touching each other during the evening, as if to assure each other of the other's presence -- or just for the feel of it. Time flew without any of us noticing, and soon came the point where all the elderly left, and the remaining guests were mostly on the dancefloor; we remained alone, once again.
We held hands, enjoying each other's presence and the relative silence, when my dear spoke with a soft tone it. "I need to go freshen up. Do you see where the bathroom is?" I looked around, but saw no indication, so we both got up and headed toward the entrance, and sure enough -- there was a sign for the washroom. I took a position by the door as she walked in, only to be startled a moment later by her semi-muffled call: "Honey! Come in! You have to see this!" I took a glance both left and right, saw no one and entered the ladies bathroom.
Just as I stepped in, the door shut and clicked behind me. The room had a long marble sink facing the wall on the right, and a passage to what seemed to be a line of closed booths containing, I imagined, toilets. But the dominant feature of the room was a huge, full-faced mirror surrounding the viewer, covering all but the door's wall and opening, allowing for a panoramically reflection of oneself and his surroundings. This is how I saw the source of the click sound on the door: my wife was behind me, her hand on the door's handle and lock.
"This is...impressive." I muttered, viewing the figure behind me as it moved from the door towards me, while I remained motionless. Her hands were soon caressing my chest, as she hugged me from behind, breathing by my ear: "You think THIS is impressive?"
She turned me around, then grabbed and pulled me for a long, lustful kiss. Her tongue danced and swirled in my mouth, firing me up like a torch. We embraced tight; I could feel her ample bosom rubbing against me through the thin fabric of her dress and my shirt, and my eyebrow shot up. She noticed and broke our kiss, leaning back in my grasp, smiling devilishly.
"Feeling something, dear?" and without losing her smile she came close again, "I'm not wearing something more. Care to guess?"
