If you don't like stories about unfaithfulness, look away now. If you don't like cheating, don't read. Don't say you weren't warned.
Much of this story is true.
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In summer 2011 I went to a wedding of an ex-colleague. We had only worked together for about a year, but when I moved away for another job we kept in touch and I was happy to be invited to his wedding. His name is Joe and his new wife - who is absolutely gorgeous and has seemed very nice the few times I've met her - is called Kate, and they don't feature much from hereon-in.
I like weddings. Not the ceremonies, but catching up with old friends and meeting new people, having a drink and having fun. On this occasion it was being held at a beautiful old hotel, and it was nice to catch up with a group of ex-colleagues. We stuck together as a clique for most of the day, drinking the free champagne and secretly joking through the ceremony. By 6pm, after the wedding lunch and speeches, I was drunk - but good drunk, happy to be with friends. My mind wasn't on anything beyond that.
At about this time, however, the guests who weren't invited to the ceremony - only to the reception - started to show up. One such party was Poppy and her boyfriend. Poppy had held a junior position at my old firm when I departed. In fact, I had hired her. She was a few years younger - recently graduated when she was appointed - and quite green, uncool and awkward. She was nice, though, and charming in her own way. I had an inkling she liked me, or used to - she got kind of close on one social outing, but I didn't see her that way and stopped anything from happening.
In the intervening time, apparently, she had matured. Professionally she was doing very well, and physically she was... not the girl I remembered. Maybe her make-up, special for the wedding, was flattering her. Maybe her short dress was more revealing than anything I'd seen her in before. Maybe this Poppy had always been there but I'd never noticed. Or maybe she had changed. Whatever it was, it was like that teen movie moment of the geek girl taking her glasses off and suddenly being Miss World.
Poppy was just shorter than me in her black high heels. Big blue eyes and long black lashes, her brunette hair tied in a perfect ballet bun, her tits bursting out of her dress, which also tugged tightly against her medium-wide hips and ass. She wasn't a supermodel but she was just my type. I like real women. Suddenly Poppy looked fuckable as hell. I said hello.
I met her boyfriend Tim. Tim was a nice guy. A bit nerdy and shy, nothing too much to say for himself but very friendly. Exactly, in fact, the kind of guy I'd have expected Poppy to be dating when I first met her, and I wasn't surprised to hear that they'd been together since around then.
We chatted in our group, continuing to enjoy the hospitality, and Poppy and Tim caught up with us pretty quickly with the aid of a couple of shots. Poppy laughed more loudly at my jokes as the evening went on. A live band started to provide the soundtrack to the evening, and the newly married couple danced their first dance together. A Taylor Swift song - possibly an ironic choice, but one that got everyone going.
I noticed pretty soon that Poppy and Tim weren't completely happy. Not that they hated each other in that way of bored, trapped long-term couples in restaurants, but they took a few shots at each other. Mostly Poppy at Tim, actually. Nothing too harsh, just things like quietly undermining him when he was talking about his job. "Yeah, well you only got that job because he's your uncle..." Or devaluing his fundraising long-distance cycle. "In the grand scheme of things, you didn't really raise that much..." Tim, being nice, took everything on the chin. I couldn't stand to see it and soon resolved to fuck his girlfriend.
In my defence, I had had quite a bit to drink. And Poppy was showing signs of interest. I put my hand on her waist in conversation and she reciprocated. She smiled and made faces at me while dancing with Tim. She asked me about my love life.
It gets hazy. At, I guess, around 9pm the band was still in full swing, and the dance floor was still heaving. Traditional dancing partners had gone out of the window and the floor was now a free-for-all, complete strangers making friends for life - or, at least, the evening.
Poppy was swaying next to Tim, and I took her by the hands and pulled her away. No idea what the song was, but I remember that Tim continued to nod along to the music, left with no-one to dance with.
Poppy and I played around, bumping hips and making each other do twirls (kind of). Neither of us could really dance. But that wasn't the point.
