Entering the room where the wedding will take place, I am greeted by an usher who with a warm smile asks, “Bride or groom?”
My immediate thought is that I am here for neither. I am only here for the maid of honour. As I prepare to answer with a more acceptable reply of bride, someone else, the mother of the bride approaches.
“You look very handsome,” she tells the usher who is frowning with a smile at her comments and then she utters his name, and all becomes clear. “Your turn next, Ridley.”
I stare at the younger man before me as he shakes his head as a protest. “No way Mum.”
“Until you meet the right girl,” she contradicts, and I hope he is not about to say anything that infers that he already has and he let her go because I am likely to punch him. Hard. Really hard.
“Too many right girls, Mum. Now let me get guests seated or Sarah will flip, and Liv will kick my arse if the two sides aren’t balanced and aesthetically pleasing.” He grins and I find I am grinning back because I can hear Olivia saying that phrase,balanced and aesthetically pleasing. “Sorry mate, did you say bride or groom?”
“Bride, I suppose. I’m here with the balanced and aesthetically pleasing maid of honour.” I’m aiming for amusing and friendly, realising that this young man, not much more than a boy, is old news for my girl and no threat at all, especially when I consider Olivia’s description of fumbled encounters with him.
“Ah, the new beau of Liv. My sister speaks very highly of you which is unusual for her when it comes to Liv, so you must be okay.” He smirks as he extends a hand towards me, “Ridley, brother of the bride and usher extraordinaire.”
I smile back, somehow impressed that he hasn’t just outed himself as my girlfriend’s former boyfriend meaning he is either afraid of me knowing that or he is a decent guy and respects Olivia enough not to label her that way. I am going with the latter.
“Mason, Mase.” I complete our introduction before I take the seat he gestures to.
I pull out my silently vibrating phone to see a message from Dec that I’ll reply to later. I have a sudden urge to text Olivia but am unsure if she’ll be able to respond. I take a chance anyway and compose a quick text.
Clearly, I was wrong when I thought Olivia might not be able to respond because her reply is virtually instant.
I can’t keep the stupid grin off my face as I read her words that reveal her horniness which I totally reciprocate despite the ministrations of my own hand earlier and I intend to resolve it for us both at the first opportunity.
The people around me are giving me strange looks as I put my phone away and that’s either because they have seen my messages or the smile on my face that makes me look like The Joker unnerves them, either way I don’t give a shit. I love my girl and she is horny and needs me.
I look up and see Jed. He looks nervous, petrified which I remember from when I married Arianna, although I already knew I was making a mistake by the time our wedding day arrived, not that I thought we couldn’t make it work at the time. I hope Jed is suffering from normal wedding day jitters and not real reservations. He catches my eye and shakes his hand at me in something between a wave and a salute. I send him one back with a smile he returns making him look more relaxed somehow.
We have become friends of sorts over the last few weeks, months, I’ve been seeing Olivia. I even went on his stag night, which was beyond messy, not as messy as the hen night though. I smile, recalling the state of my girlfriend when the hens and stags eventually met up at the VIP bar in Dazzler that Dec had allowed me to rent out for our sole use. My girl was completely trollied but very happy to see me, making me regret not hiring the club out for just us.
A couple of girls teetering on heels stumble towards me; all false nails, fake tan and giggles, pretty girls in an obvious way, but nothing compared to Olivia. I step out to allow them to take up the two seats on my inside and see movement at the back of the room indicating the arrival of the bridal party as we are all asked to stand.
Sarah, who is wearing a very sophisticated white, lace dress with a fishtail bottom that clings to her willowy shape perfectly, enters on her father’s arm followed by a couple of little girls in long white dresses with black sashes and then I see the woman from earlier, Niamh, but I can’t spare her anything beyond a fleeting glance because next to her is the most beautiful woman in the world to me and today she looks absolutely phenomenal. She’ll be lucky to get to the reception without being dragged into a room or cupboard with the way she looks, and my dick agrees as it stiffens behind my trousers.
Olivia is wearing a simple and elegant black dress made of satin. It’s strapless and shows off the expanse of beautiful, creamy pale skin that covers her neck, shoulders and chest with just a hint of her breasts beneath. The dress is perfectly fitted on the top down to the waist that has a white sash around it and then the full-length dress skims across her hips into a slight, gradual flair to her feet that are just visible as she walks in white heels.
I can’t stop staring at her. She is beautiful. That adjective, beautiful, really does seem inadequate to describe Olivia. Her hair is up, in curls, with just a few curled strands hanging around her face making her look sexy as fuck. She has a sparkly choker around her neck that matches her stud earrings and the pins interspersed in her hair.
The make-up she is wearing is minimal, not that she needs any at all in my opinion, although the sheen across her lips makes me think erotic, immoral and downright depraved thoughts. Then, when I think she can’t look any better, her eyes find mine and she smiles, metaphorically bringing me to my knees.
All the female attendants carry bouquets of black and white flowers of varying sizes that seem to be in the same style as the table arrangements suggesting my girl made these too, so fucking talented in every way. She has passed me now but manages one last little look over her shoulder which should be illegal, as should the things I want to do to her for that one look alone.
The girls next to me make a couple of bitchy comments about Sarah and Niamh which I leave unchallenged and then one asks the other, “And the other bridesmaid, does she realise this is not her day?”
“I know. Isn’t she that waif and stray Ridley picked up?” the other one replies.
Now I am certain that it’s my girl they’re speaking about but I’m biting my tongue until they continue.
“Well, Auntie Miriam has always been charitable, but allowing your kids to take a down and out sixteen-year-old under your wing is extreme.”
