He'd had to scramble to make the wedding. A quick meeting in the morning, back to his room to iron his white shirt and black suit, and then back downstairs. When he had awoken he had still not decided whether or not to go, but he'd made the decision during the meeting to wait until almost the arrival of the bride, and then slip into the back of the room, and hide himself behind some bodies. She'd never see him, and then once all the family were heading over to the reception area, he'd slip out almost last and disappear back to his room. He was definitely NOT going to the reception.
Everything had worked out well, he'd exited the elevator just as the bridal party, father and daughter with attendant bridesmaids were coming out of the reception area, he'd shown the card to the usher that she had given him, and he had been waved him in. He'd walked smartly to the left, around the back of the arranged chairs, and found an empty chair at the end of a very full row, and with all the people looking he'd only gotten a brief glimpse of her wavy hair as she had passed. For a moment he remembered that tousled mane of almost red hair hanging over his chest last night as she had sat astride him, rising and falling on his erect member tickling his nose and skin. His hands on her breasts. He tried to block out the image with her now, walking up the aisle, with her bridesmaids.
He swiveled to see her soon to be husband. He looked pretty fit, but his suit was a little tight on him around the belly. Short, cropped brown hair, eyes that looked a little too small for the face. What had she called him, Miles, that was it. Soldier. Interesting. The best man beside him was a head taller, with a better fitting suit, but not as good looking, pock marked face, but the same severe haircut. His eyes pulled back to Jackie, and for several brief moments, as she walked up the aisle, she became visible. He did get a really good look at her ass. It was fairly plump, and he recalled his hands on it last night, and again he fought to bring back the memories from last night marching unbidden into his mind. He hadn't even known her name last night, only as she was leaving and giving him the card had he found it out since it was her business card. The guys at the door had taken it from him like a regular invitation, but he had already put the information into his phone.
He rose and fell to the call of the priest, offered up prayers to the happy couple, and, like everyone else had waited in the breathless silence when he had asked the question if they should not be married. He could have stood up, and offered a reason, but he didn't, he just inwardly smiled. Perhaps Miles had in fact fucked the stripper, whilst he had fucked his wife to be. He smiled. Let it lie. What they had had was a one night stand, never to be repeated. He was feeling pretty sure that he shouldn't really have come, but he'd have worked his way through his emails wishing he was here, so, here he was. The organ, or whatever it was up the front began to play and he watched as the newly weds cruised back down the aisle past the chairs and out. He wasn't sure if she had seen him, but then he had actively been trying to hide from her. He did take her picture as she looked away, and a gap had opened up between the people, and then, he waited.
He figured that the people would all be making there way across the atrium of the hotel to the dining area, closed off for the afternoon for this occasion, and that the newly weds would probably be greeting everyone as they entered. Some would head out for a smoke break, he would break left, head to the elevators and back to his room. He waited until his own row had left the room, and then walked its length, and turned right, and out into the hallway. Except that he didn't. There was a wheelchair blocking the way with an irate man in it. A woman in her late forties marched resolutely in a very tight white dress, like the brides, and a huge piece of cake for a hat, also white, and a dangling white wrist bag towards the melee. Patrick took a small step back, and waited. The remaining people started to back up behind him.
"Dad! You promised not to cause a fuss today"
"Audrey you said someone would push me. That son of yours has run off and left me again," he growled back.
"And I bet you didn't put your brakes on every time he tried to push you anywhere." The woman called Audrey sighed in an exasperated way that did not bode well for her errant son, or her father. The bulk of the people behind Patrick now were themselves elderly, not good as wheelchair pushers. Her eyes lighted on him. He saw her confusion, wanting to place him among the family and friends, but he realized that her need, at this moment, beat out not knowing who he was.
Fuck, Patrick thought she wasn't about to ask...................................
"Sorry, but would you mind?"
Inwardly Patrick sighed heavily to himself. He had wanted to avoid Jackie, and her new husband, and now this. He didn't bother to see if someone else would make a better wheelchair pusher, and he walked resolutely forward to grasp the handles of the chair. It didn't move. Peering over the old mans shoulder he saw that the brake had been applied. He reached for it and the old man, swatted his hand away. The woman called Audrey saw it all, and bending over she released both brakes of the chair. As she straightened he saw the tear in her tights, about the right height for the brake lever.
"Now then," she said, and turning away Patrick got a good glimpse of the mother of the brides ass. My, my, the apple hadn't fallen far from the tree, genetically speaking, and Patrick slowly pushed the chair after Audrey, his eyes firmly parked on her swaying rear.
"Not so fast", mumbled Audrey's father, but Patrick ignored that, they were definitely not going fast, more of a languid crawl. They came to rest near the reception room doorway and the old man almost instantly had the brakes back on, but his daughter had already turned, and without a word flipped them back up again, and they inched forward to the bride and groom. His hands made an abortive attempt to put them back on again, but his daughter turned around and gave him a long, slow stare. The old man's hands stayed where they were.
"Hi there," crooned Miles, to his new mother in law. "Hello Pops," he echoed at the old man, and then his eyes came to rest on Patrick. Trying hard for nonchalance, Patrick offered his hand, and a muttered, "Congratulations." Miles took the hand and held it, staring at him, trying to place him in the familial hierarchy. Then Jackie, who had been greeting her mother with a hug and a kiss, turned and saw him. She seemed frozen in place for a moment, and then looked down and greeted her Grandfather, with a peck on the cheek, before looking at Patrick square on.
"In all the excitement last night, I never got your name," she said brightly.
Miles beside her, looked at his wife and said, "Excitement?"
"Yeah, I was so fucking drunk last night, I could barely walk, and then I threw up in the bushes outside, dragging this poor guy with me, and then to add to his evening's fun I dragged him around the hotel trying to find my room with him. I ended up passed out on his bed, and him sleeping on the couch."
