Steph was wearing a black, lace, sleeveless dress that fitted very close with a plunging back and just skimmed her hips to hide her modesty. She had teamed it with a pair of black stilettos that had silver metallic heels adding another five inches to her own five feet seven.
Steph smiled and then looking at the mirror in the hallway, asked, “Am I over-dressed though? You look quite modest.” Twirling, she took in the image reflected back and thought the dress clung to her curves, emphasising her rounded behind and full breasts. She didn’t really go in for exercise or the gym so didn’t consider her legs to be super toned or her belly entirely flat, but she was comfortable in her own skin and embraced the softness of her curves.
“You look great and as I am meeting my future husband at the end of the night I thought I should go with a little modesty,but you are young, free and single, not to mention gorgeous, so go for it,” her friend encouraged.
By the time they were ready to leave, Steph had let her long, straight, dark brown hair down and reapplied her red lip gloss and mascara. They had been joined by Lindsay’s sisters and some other friends and as the twelve of them left, Mrs Walters was snapping away with multiple phones for all she was worth.
They startedoff in a hotel bar before moving onto a wine bar and by the time they entered The Pressure Palace they were all rather tipsy and Steph had acquired the phone numbers of about seven men, including one claiming to be the owner of the club.
The whole party had put on the now essential hen party t-shirts and pink sparkly head bands with willies on, bobbing as they walked. Lindsay was complete with sash, crown, badge, and L plates, but the final piece of the party was just about to arrive, ‘Rampant Rodney and his Python of Love.’
He was highly recommended by Rosie who had seen him at a previous hen party and as Steph looked across the room she saw him coming towards them. He was about six feet two inches and very broad with what looked like flawless ebony skin and as his music started, he abandoned his clothes and honed in on the bride, dancing with and around her before producing a bottle of oil that he encouraged Lindsay to ‘rub in.’ Lindsay was most enthusiastic courtesy of her merry state and as Steph laughed loudly at her friend she saw the perfect opportunity to take numerous pictures, many she would tease her friend with at a later date. Steph screamed as she watched her friend’s hands disappearing beneath the leather pouch, the only thing Rodney was wearing but he did nothing to stop it. As the music ended, Rodney kissed Lindsay on the cheek and wished her good luck with the wedding before asking for Steph who escorted him outand paid him the balance of his fee. As she was about to leave him at the entrance to the club he offered her his number.
“Call me, if you have another hen party or if you’d like a more exclusive show.”
Heat touched her cheeks slightly as she saw Charlie grinning at her, her blush deepening as he leapt upon her and shouted, “Hi, baby, have you missed me?” then picked her up and carried her back into the club risking her modesty as she dangled over his shoulder. “No need to thank me,” he said as he placed her on her feet.
“Who said I was going to?” She pouted at him. “He was seriously hot.”
“But he is the stripper and not your type at all, plus, can you imagine my future mother-in-law’s face if you turn up at her daughter’s wedding with the hen party stripper as your plus one?”
They both laughed at that notion and Charlie signalled to a large group of men behind her.
“Everybody, this is Stephanie, Lindsay’s best friend, maid of honour, hirer of strippers and all-round hot totty,” announced Charlie, still grinning at her until he spotted Lindsay dancing in the distance and without another word, he left, with only his fiancée on his mind.
The others dispersed, some found their wives or girlfriends, whilst others looked around for new ones. Steph felt slightly awkward as she realised she was standing with a man in Charlie’s group who was a little older than her, maybe, early thirties compared to her twenty-five years, but he was very handsome. He stood at a similar height to the stripper and had dark brown hair, cut so that it curled back off his head. His eyes were staring straight through her, an intensity to the bright blue whose gaze she couldn’t break away from and his lips, thin andnarrow, briefly filled her thoughts; were they soft when kissing? What might they taste like?
He had broad shoulders that she could see through a casual white shirt with two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up that he wore with plain black casual trousers. She looked at his feet and smiled at the loafers he wore, immaculate, just like the rest of him.
Steph’s musing was broken when she realised the man before her seemed to be impatiently waiting for something, tapping his foot on the floor and the fingers of one hand upon the other. Despite his impatience, she grinned up at him to see he was making no secret of the fact that he was giving her the once over; her face, shoulders, breasts, abdomen, legs, feet, he even appeared to move sideways slightly to get a look at her bum, making her giggle slightly, which just made him frown.
“Jon,” cried Lindsay as she rushed over and hugged the prime example of a man before Steph.
He smiled at the bride-to-be before he hugged her, a smile that made him light up like a Christmas tree. Steph thought that he couldn’t be anymore gorgeous, but she had been wrong. He was, and although she had refused to allow any real thoughts of a sexual nature to invade her mind since she had split up with Simon six months before, well none involving other people, she could feel them surfacing now as she stared at Jon.
Lindsay was still hugging him as she said, “You two need to familiarise yourselves. This is Steph, my maid of honour, and this is Jon, Charlie’s best man.”
Jon was certainly thebestman she had ever seen. She immediately felt foolish because not only was he a complete stranger, he was well out of her league.
“As you wish, Bridezilla,” he teased. “Steph, let me get you a drink.”
He took her arm and pushed her in front of him towards the bar.
“What would you like?”
She stared vaguely across the drinks on offer and eventually said, “Vodka and cranberry, please.”
“Really?” he asked. “You seem as though you may have had enough judging by your performance with the stripper.” His words were an accusation, the disapproval dripped from every word uttered.
She stared at him and thought that his head was so far up his own arse he probably thought it was permanently nighttime.
He ordered her drink without another word and a beer for himself before gesturing for her to sit down at a booth table nearby.
“So, Steph, Stephanie I assume?”
She nodded causing him to frown at her, leaving Steph wondering whether it was her or her name that was currently causing his irritation.
“How do you know Lindsay?”
