It was a surprisingly pleasant state of being.
Although there were no mirrors, I knew the lift of my arms must have been accentuating my bosom nicely. Part of me desperately wanted Devon to glance down and notice the ripe melons that graced my chest, but he didn’t look down. No, our eyes remained locked on each other’s. It was so hot I could die.
Devon had dreamy dark blue eyes, and they radiated confidence. His cologne was unidentifiable, but it was manly and sweet all at once. That dance was a miracle to me, a connection with another person that I’d never experienced, and I didn’t want it to end. Soon, though, too soon, the music stopped.
We were near Lisa and Chet when the music ended, and I watched them kiss. The wedding party, including me, applauded and cheered. A pang of jealousy rose in my breast, jealousy over two people being so closely connected and happy about it, but I quickly forced that jealousy from my mind. Such thinking was beneath me. I had to keep up hope that I could find such a perfectly matched lover one day.
“So," Devon said when he escorted me to my seat at the dais, pulling my chair out for me, "I hear there is a little bet."
"Yes," I replied. "Do you think the Pats will win the conference?"
"Very funny. Of course they will. I’m talking about the bridesmaids bet."
That’s how Cassie had framed it for the boys—it was a bet that I had to sleep with all the groomsmen. “It’s not really a bet,” I said. Devon whisked my linen napkin off the table and draped it over my lap. “It’s supposed to be a…” I trailed off. What was I thinking? I’d almost said it was a punishment. That would go over like a lead balloon—I’m supposed to blow you as a punishment. Nice thinking!
“A what?” Devon asked.
I ran my hand along his leg and said, “A lot of fun.”
Devon smiled. “I would hope so.” Leaning close, he patted my hand and whispered, “There’s a divan in the Bride’s Chamber upstairs, a very comfortable divan. Meet me there after the main course.” I stared at my place setting and nodded my head, my heart pounding wildly, fearful that his strong, large hand resting on mine would detect my crazy hard pulse. If he did, he didn’t show it. Devon glided away to his seat on the other side of the dais. I watched him walk the whole way. Cute butt!
The Bride’s Chamber. Hmm. At least we’d have some privacy up there. It wouldn’t be like blowing Cliff with two hundred guests on the other side of a dividing screen. Hmm. I wondered if it would be less exciting, giving a blowjob without the fear of being discovered. Oh, look at that—so it had been exciting. Gosh. Well, yes it was. I could admit it to myself. There was no way I’d admit that to Cassie, though. I giggled a bit as I realized that I enjoyed being a little slut kneeling between Cliff’s legs and blowing him. It didn’t make me a slut—I was just acting slutty. After all, I was naturally adventurous. Or maybe I was an exhibitionist. But I wasn’t a tease. No sir. Cliff left quite satisfied. Yeah, he was happy. I could still taste his happiness in my mouth.
That brought on a smile. My lips and tongue played that cock so well, it was like I deserved a solo in the Philharmonic.
It didn’t hurt that Cliff had a handsome cock, if handsome was the right word. I licked my lips just thinking about it. There was nothing wrong with me finding a cock attractive. It wasn’t like my hot Amber-body was infecting my Andy-mind. No. I appreciated the beauty of Cliff’s cock in the same sense that I could appreciate the beauty of a statue. Cliff’s cock was just handsome, was all. And it fit nicely down my throat. Oh, brother. Maybe I was in trouble. Especially since I kept wondering what Devon’s cock looked like.
Brenda sat down next to me, which was a relief, because she derailed my cock-obsessed daydreams. I turned to look at Brenda, who was waving to one of the guests. I'd rather have sat next to Donna, but Donna was near the center, alongside Lisa. Donna was the Maid of Honor. Cassie was on the other side of Brenda. So it went Lisa, Donna, Cassie, Brenda, and me. I sat at the end of the elevated dais, with its rustic, long table that had no tablecloth. At the center of the dais were Lisa and Chet, and off to the groom's right was Javier, the Best Man, and then the other groomsmen. I only had Brenda to talk to.
Brenda sipped at her champagne, and then took her linen napkin and dabbed it in her water. She handed it to me. "Clean your knees, Blowjob Queen. Don’t make it so obvious that you're a total slut."
"Thanks, I think," I said, and took the napkin. As I wiped at my knees, I said, "Why are you and Donna calling me Blowjob Queen?” She gave me a are-you-kidding-me look. “Well, I won’t deny it,” I said. “But how do you know?"
“Cassie sent the video to our phones. Nice work. You really seemed to enjoy yourself.”
I blushed. “I had to make Cliff believe I was enjoying it. That’s all. I was acting like I enjoyed it for his benefit. It was all a ruse. I didn’t really enjoy it at all, but I pretended to, see?”
Brenda nodded her head, shaking her auburn curls. “Yes. Women do that a lot.” Dodged that bullet!! A silver platter with cheese and fruit was placed in front of us. Brenda fussed about with the cheese cubes, wrinkling her nose at one, but finally found a morsel that looked likely to satisfy her. I watched her sniff the cheese, and then nibble just a bit. A broad smile broke across her face, and she happily ate the rest of the cube.
“We were both right, you know,” Brenda said. I looked at the cheese plate. I was thoroughly confused.
“Right about what?” I asked.
“Back in college,” Brenda said, “when we took Women’s Studies 301. You said Ilsa Lund…you know, in Casablanca…should have given Rick a roll in the hay for old times sake, and then never tell her husband.”
I laughed and said, “I remember that. We were young and foolish then.”
“It was four years ago,” Brenda said with a raised eyebrow.
“You have to draw the line somewhere between being young and foolish—the first stage—and being in the mature and wise stage.”
Brenda plucked another cube of cheese from the silver platter. “For you, dear Amber, that line might be today,” she said. “Anyway, I told you back then that you needed to swallow some estrogen pills to get in touch with your female side, and you told me I needed to get laid.”
“I did not!” I protested, although it was ringing a bell.
“You did,” Brenda replied. “You made me so mad. But you were right. I did need to get laid. I needed to see the world wasn’t all Victorian simplicity. I took your advice. I got laid a lot.”
“Good for you,” I said. I looked past the cheese platter, to the wedding guests. The men were casting their gazes our way—some brazen, some furtive. Goodness, was Cliff whispering to every man he could find? No, he was sitting next to Devon. It was more likely that they remembered my show in the gazebo.
“How could we both be right?” I asked Brenda.
“We were,” Brenda said. “I can tell already, this is good for you. You needed to get in touch with your feminine side. You’ll be a better person because of it.”
I laughed so hard, I snorted like a piggy—so much for being feminine. “Yeah, right,” I said. Sure, I was growing comfortable in this body, but it wasn’t like I was becoming all-estrogen-y. I didn’t have a single feminine impulse. Nevertheless, I was developing a sensitivity to the heat of men’s stares. I nodded towards the wedding guests out in front of our dais. "Why are they all looking at us?" I asked. "I mean looking at you and me, and not Chet and Lisa?"
Brenda placed a hand on mine and smiled. "Cross your legs, dear. You're flashing your bald pussy at two hundred strangers."
I crossed my legs. Once again, my entire body felt beet red.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Each of the ushers asked me to dance, and I did. None of them danced as well as Devon, but I didn’t say no to any of them. That was the general plan, after all. Brenda and Cassie seemed to relish my predicament, but Donna seemed indifferent to it, or maybe even a bit put off. The waiters started serving salads, and my pulse raced. I
knew the main course wouldn't be far behind, and after that I was supposed to meet Devon in the Bride’s Chamber.
Brenda kept ordering me G&Ts, and in my nervousness, I kept drinking them. I was feeling no pain by the time they were collecting the salad plates. Once the toasts and dances with daddy were done, Lisa had loosened up her Nazi grip on us. We were able to kick off our heels and go barefoot on the dance floor, which I really enjoyed. Donna dragged me out when Celebration started playing, and I boogied my heart out. Dancing is easier as a woman—just move about and the jiggle of the body does the rest. And boy did I jiggle.
I must have flashed more men than I thought when I sat at the dais, or perhaps they had spotted the dirt on my knees, or Chet was a real yenta, or my gazebo show was quite memorable, but whatever the cause, I was extremely popular on the dance floor. All that attention raised my body temp, for sure.
Art, the groomsman, was probably the most aggressive. His hands settled on my hips as he danced behind me and he started pulling up the hem of my dress. I pressed back against him and pushed his hands down with my own. Lisa would kill me if my naked ass made an appearance at her wedding. When I felt Art's erection pressing against me through his tux, I darted away as quickly as I could and straight into Donna's arms. “Oh, hi,” I said. More than a little drunk, I kissed Donna and giggled. “I love you so much,” I said.
"Hmm," Donna replied as she released me, twirled about, and wriggled her tone ass against my hips. Donna pressed her athletic shoulders back against me, put a palm on my cheek, and turned her head, saying, "Drinking gin and juice, I see. Or I taste, rather."
"No," I said, running my hands up and down her streamlined contours. "Gin and tonic."
Donna spun about and kissed me harder this time—hard and aggressive, just how I liked it—her arms dangled over my shoulders. "No,” Donna said. “Gin and man-juice is what I taste. Slut." She stuck out her tongue and then kissed me again.
"You still love me though, right?" I asked, staring deeply into her eyes.
I couldn't believe it. I actually got Donna to blush!
"Truth be told," Donna said, "I hope you don't manage to bag all the ushers. Then you can stay this way, and be mine. You’d be my little bitch forever."
“Cassie said if I failed to sleep with all the ushers she’d change me back anyway so I would get arrested.”
“Forget Cassie,” Donna said. “She doesn’t call all the shots. If I want you to be my bitch, you’ll be my bitch.”
God, that got me so aroused. I thought back to our shower together, naked, Donna in charge—Donna pressing her body against mine, the water pouring down, her hands on my breasts. And after that, our walk, Donna in my tee shirt, the night wind whipping it about, me, in heels, following her lead, and the gazebo show, and then Donna pinning me down, so strong, while they waxed my legs. It was all so hot. I wouldn’t fight to escape that fate—that was for sure.
"Me? Be your bitch?" I asked, my face a furious red—must have been the gin. Donna smiled and blew me a kiss.
"Be my everything," Donna said, and then danced away, her tan lithe body hypnotizing me in sinuous retreat.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Donna had me so worked up I barely noticed the dance music had stopped and that the waiters were serving the main course. Flush, flustered, and embarrassed at being flushed and flustered, I padded back to my seat at the end of the dais.
Be my everything. Donna was so hot. My pulse raced, and my skin felt extra alive. Dinner was served, but the hunger Donna brought out in me was sexual, and no plate of grilled salmon would satisfy that hunger. Goodness, I was feeling lusty.
The chair next to me slid back, and I turned to ask Brenda how mad she thought Donna was at me, but it wasn’t Brenda. Devon sat down next to me—Devon, with his killer bod, and spine-melting smile. I looked about for the waiter. I was hungry.
“Brenda and I swapped seats,” Devon said with a smile as he draped a linen napkin over his lap. Somehow Devon had managed to dance up a storm without messing up his tux. He looked like he belonged on the wedding cake.
“Oh,” I replied, “I thought you were Brenda.”
Devon was early. I wasn’t ready for him until after dinner. I had geared myself for that, and his early appearance by my side got me all flustered. I thought to put my hand on Devon’s arm, but then pulled my hand away. Suddenly I didn’t know what to do with it. I never had to think about what to do with my hands. I thrust my hands into my lap, and stared down. My hands twitched and rubbed each other while my pulse beat tom-toms in my ears. What was wrong with me? Why was my face so warm? My eyes were glued to my place setting. I placed my hands in my lap, where they couldn’t do any harm. When did I turn into an awkward idiot?
“I didn’t expect to see you again until after dinner,” I said. “You know,” and then I whispered, “in the Bride’s Chamber.”
“Oh, I’m still up for that,” Devon said, “but I thought we might enjoy eating dinner together.”
“That would be nice,” I said, still staring down at my plate. That would be nice—what the heck was wrong with me? I knew what I wanted to say—I am completely discombobulated by this change in plans. Please take your handsome bod and go away until after dinner. That’s what I would say, if I hadn’t just turned into an inarticulate idiot.
The waiter placed my grilled salmon and broiled shrimp plate in front of me. Now at least I had something to look at. I could feel Devon gazing at me.
“So, Amber,” Devon said, “I’ve told you that I restore classic cars, which is probably the only interesting thing about me.” I doubted that. He looked like he seldom had a boring moment in his life. Devon went on. “Tell me a bit about yourself.”
Myself? Talk about myself? No way. Boy, my dinner looked amazing. The salmon was grilled to perfection, and the shrimp were big and thick, with bits of cilantro stuck to the glistening bulges. And the greens! How did they get them looking so vivid and fresh? And…and…and… Gawd, I wished he’d stop looking at me.
“Amber,” Devon said, “if you’re trying to screw up the courage to tell me you’re autistic, it’s okay.”
“Maybe I am a little autistic!” I shot Devon a glare. “You shouldn’t use a serious condition like that for a punchline.” Devon grinned that smug grin. I just wanted to slap it off him—slap it off him or kiss it. “And another thing…”
“Glad you found your power of speech,” Devon said. “I was beginning to think you’d start spinning that plate, and send all that fine food a’flying.” Dammit, he had a warm smile. He made it hard to be indignant.
“Don’t be foolish,” I said. “I’m not spinning the plate until after I eat.” I smiled. Ugh. I hated myself for smiling, but his damn grin was infectious. Look away. Look away from that damn grin. My eyes darted to his plate.
Oh, he had a nice NY strip steak sitting in front of him, with bleu cheese crumbled on top, and truffle mashed potatoes, if I remembered the menu properly. “That looks delicious,” I said. “Your steak.” I bit my lip, gazed his way, and nodded to the steak. “Switch with me,” I said.
“Sure,” Devon replied without hesitation.
“What?” I exclaimed. “You’d give up a steak like that for fish! What kind of man are you?”
“The kind who likes to make a woman happy.”
Okay, that was a pretty good answer. I could tell by how warm it made me feel.
“Enjoy your steak,” I said. “I was only joking about switching.” Using my fork, I broke apart the salmon along its seams. The salmon fell apart easily, flaking away.
“Thank God,” Devon said with a chuckle. He cut into his steak with gusto. The NY strip was cooked perfectly—pink and bloody on the inside. Steam rose out of it. “Umm,” Devon said, chewing enthusiastically. “Unbelievably good.”
“Don’t rub it in,” I said.
“Here.” Devon held a perfect slice of steak on the end of his fork. He lifted it to my mouth. My hand on his thick wrist, I guided him t
o my lips. Devon has skewered it good, and I grabbed the meat firmly with my teeth, pulling it slowly off the silver fork. Devon’s dreamy blue eyes were glued to my lips. I wondered if my lips gloss was still okay. I should have checked them before dinner. This woman-stuff should come with an operator’s manual.
I wasn’t used to having such a small mouth. The piece was way too big for me. Steak juices squirted out onto my chin. “Whoops,” I said, giggling with my mouth full. The steak was hot, and the beef juice ran down my face. But after a few chews the steak basically melted in my mouth. Devon watched my struggle, and he looked quite amused.
Even though I had a linen napkin, I wiped the steak juice up with my finger and then licked it off, slowly. Umm, it was delicious. I almost had a steak-gasm right there.
“You liked that,” Devon said.
“I like good meat.” This time it was my smile that brought his out. Touché, Mister Charming!
Devon reached over and stabbed a bit of my salmon. “I’ve always enjoyed the taste of the sea, myself,” he said. I watched the salmon sail into his mouth, past those impeccable pearly whites. I’ve never been so jealous of a piece of fish. Devon was sexy even while chewing.
Looking down, I noticed Devon had put his hand on my knee. He wasn’t snaking it up my leg, or copping a feel. Devon’s hand rested on my freshly waxed leg with a familiar ease, as if we were old friends. Or old lovers. Ooh, how racy!
My leg felt wonderfully tingly. Devon was a gentleman, but persistent. I liked his style. His jaw was smooth, but chiseled, and I wondered if he had a hard time shaving. It didn’t appear so. There wasn’t a knick to be found on that flawless skin.
Revenge of the Bridesmaids Page 8