Revenge of the Bridesmaids (13 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

As expected, Javier left me alone, discarded, and strewn across the desk. My exhaustion was complete. I almost could have taken a nap there.  But when the AC kicked on, I could feel cold air going into my gaping asshole.  It was weird having air going into my ass.  I wondered if it would ever close properly again.

As my endorphins subsided, and the thrill and pleasure ebbed, my sense of shame returned full-force.  With a Herculean effort, I got up off the desk.  Walking normal was a challenge, even before I slipped back into the heels.  My hair was a tangle of wild chaos, and my cheek had the imprint of the desk blotter.  The front of my bridesmaid dress was soaked with my own juices.  I was the epitome of a hot mess.

I wondered if my asshole was somehow connected to my inner ear—I had trouble keeping my balance.  When I opened the coatroom door, there were still some guests in the hallway.  I could feel them staring as I struggled to walk down the hall, one hand on the wall for balance.  Air rose up inside my violated butt, and I imagined everyone could tell.  That was ridiculous, of course, but my shame had my mind racing.

When I got to the reception area, I was concerned about trying to walk without a wall to lean on.  Brenda, Cassie, and Donna stood near the dance floor.  Their eyes cast about, looking for me, I supposed.  Donna spotted me first, and her eyes grew wide.  Donna’s hand covered her mouth, and I could see her tears start flowing.  She ran out of the B&B barn as fast as she could.

Brenda and Cassie came right to me.  They each took one of my elbows, and I hobbled along as best I could, teetering between them.

“Oh, Honey,” Brenda said.  “What did you do to yourself?”

My bleary eyes turned up to Brenda’s and I said, “I paid for my sins.”

“That’s it,” Brenda said.  “You’re done.  No more.”

“Yeah,” Cassie added, shaking my elbow.  “We’re all good, Andy.”

“Amber,” I said, having trouble focusing on Cassie.  “Can we sit for a minute?”

“Sure, Amber,” Cassie said.  “Whatever you want.”

Oh, it hurt like the Dickens to sit down, but I did anyway.  My legs didn’t seem to have enough strength for much more.  I looked down at the far end of our table.  There sat Art and his fiancée.  Art wouldn’t even look at me.

I patted Brenda’s knee, and then Cassie’s.  “I owe you both an apology.  That was horrible, what I did to you both.  I don’t know if you can ever forgive me, but please take comfort in the fact that I’ll never forgive myself.”

Brenda and Cassie wrapped their arms around me, and the three of us hugged it out.  I didn’t know if they’d ever forgive me.  I hoped they would, but I’d understand if they didn’t.

“Slut,” I heard Art’s fiancée hiss as she walked by us.  I watched her walk to the bar.

“Ignore her,” Cassie whispered.

I slid to the edge of my seat. 

“What are you doing?” Brenda asked.

“Finishing what I started,” I said.  Over their protests, I slipped underneath the long table.  Hidden by the tablecloth, I crawled along on my hands and knees.  The sensation of air coming in my bottom seemed to be dropping off.  Perhaps my asshole was re-learning how to close.  Despite that, I still felt like a degraded piece of shit, crawling to Art.  The band was still playing, and guests still danced.

“What are you doing?” Art exclaimed when I popped up between his knees from under the table.  I didn’t acknowledge his surprise.  His zipper came down with an easy pull.

“You told me to blow you under the table.  That’s what I’m going to do.”

“But my fiancée?”

“Slouch down and skootch forward,” I said.  “She’ll never know.”

Art was a man, which made him predictable.  He slouched down and skootched forward.  I took his cock in my mouth.  Art was pretty easy to deep throat, especially after Javier’s assault.  The hardest thing was trying not to bang my head on the table.  It was hard to get a rhythm going, because my head was going more forward and back, and not up and down, but I did okay.

The most distracting thing was when his fiancée returned.  “Why are you sitting like that?” she asked Art.  He told her he was very tired.  “Do you want to leave?”  He told her they’d leave in a few minutes.  That wasn’t the distracting part.  Art was running his hand along his fiancée’s leg.  While I was blowing him, Art was stroking his fiancée. 

I wanted to bite his dick off.  Men are animals.

Instead, my tongue went into overdrive on the underside of Art’s cock.  It was pleasant, in a way, in that at least I was participating in this exchange, instead of just sitting there like I did with Javier.  Art spewed a load in my mouth.  His hand moved feverishly on his fiancée’s leg.

I crawled out from under the table, on the side away from Art’s fiancée.  Smacking my lips, I held onto the table as I got shakily to my feet.  “Thanks, Art,” I said, wiping a bit of cum off my chin.  “That was hot.”

Art’s fiancée slapped the shit out of him while I tottered out of the reception hall.  Art seemed torn between defending himself and tucking his limp cock away.

I went straight back to my cabin.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

That shower in my cabin was probably the best shower of my life.  I stood under the spray until it no longer ran hot, and I washed all my adventures away.  Reaching gingerly behind me, I discovered that my butthole was fully closed again, although it was mighty tender.

How many years?  For how long did my guilt over what I’d done eat away at my subconscious?  I’d never realized how the guilt was eating away at me, but that’s the point of a subconscious.  I’d been living with a caul over me and didn’t know it.  But now, now that it was gone, I felt amazing. 

Sure, I’d never erase my misdeeds.  I’d never undo the damage I’d done.  But I had atoned, to some extent at least.  Atoning was important, but the most important thing, to me, was that I had finally acknowledged what I did was wrong.  Like a soap bubble, once I’d pricked it, it ceased to exist.  Not my guilt.  That would always be there.  But the weight of the guilt, amplified by my refusing to acknowledge it, that horrible weight was now lifted, and I felt great.

There were no women’s clothes in my cabin, so I threw on a pair of boxers and a tee shirt.  There was ice in the freezer, and I poured myself a nice tall glass of ice water.  My cabin had a front porch.  I took my glass of water with me, camped out on the swinging glider, and rocked the two-seater back and forth while the world turned to dusk.

Back in college, I’d managed to eke out enough credits for a Bachelor’s degree—in no small part due to Cassie’s help as a study-buddy.  As part of the requirements, I’d taken a bunch of distribution courses, typically focusing on those that were easy A’s.  Despite my low-effort focus, I learned a thing or two about a wide variety of subjects, including astronomy, geology, and world history.  I’d never have learned those things if I hadn’t gone to college.  Also, I’d never have met Cassie, Brenda, and Donna.  I was glad for the new horizons college opened up for me.

However, all that learning paled to what I’d learned the day of Cliff and Lisa’s wedding.  The lessons I learned there were more valuable than all the ones I’d paid cash for at college.  What did I learn?  Well, a person’s autonomy should never be violated.  And, it’s really hard to walk in heels.  And, men are shitheads.  I was the king shithead, but I had a large kingdom.

As the glider rocked, I lifted my wet hair off the back of my neck, and then let it drop again.

A voice broke me out of my reverie.  “Hey, how are you doing?”

I looked over at the person who’d walked up to my cabin.  Sandy hair, cock-sure—it was Tony, my beer cooler buddy from the gazebo.

“I’m okay,” I said, favoring him with a smile.  “Are you off duty now?”  Lifting my feet, I put them on the glider bench, so I could face Tony.  I smoothed down my oversized boxers, making sure I didn’t flash him.  There had been enough of that already.

“Yes,” Tony answered.  “My solemn responsibilities as a wedding waiter have been successfully dispatched.”  He lifted a sack that he’d been carrying up and put it on the porch rail.  “I thought you might want something.”  He pulled out a six-pack of Coors.

“Oof,” I said, lifting my glass.  “I’m on water, for now.  I don’t think I could possibly drink any more.  Thanks for bringing it, though.”

“You’re welcome.  I also brought this.”  Tony pulled a Snapple out of the sack.

“It’s not diet,” I said. I swear it just slipped out.  I always drank diet.  Now I sounded like a total bitch.

Tony didn’t notice.  He laughed.  “The last thing you need to worry about is calories,” he said.  “Mind if I sit with you for a bit, and drink my non-diet Snapple?”

I patted the glider seat next to me.  “Come on up,” I said.  “But don’t be bogarting my Snapple…Indian-giver.”

For the first time since the clambake, I managed to enjoy a man’s company without trying to have sex with him.  Tony wasn’t as handsome as Javier, or as successful as Devon and Art, but he had a way of listening that made me feel like everything I said was important, even though we talked about essentially nothing.  We talked about nothing for hours.

I mentioned how sore my feet were from the heels, and Tony insisted on rubbing them.  With my feet in his lap, sitting on the glider, I eyeballed Tony as he rubbed my feet.  Not once did he try to extend the massage up my leg, or make a lewd comment.  Tony was a true gentleman.

“You really know how to give a foot massage,” I said.  “My back is really sore, too.”

“Hah!  Nice try,” Tony replied.  “Maybe next time.  You look exhausted.”  Tony eased my feet off his lap and stood up.  “I should be going.  It’s late, and the mosquitos are really starting to bite.”

“No, don’t go,” I said.  “I’m leaving tomorrow.  Come inside and talk to me some more.  Talk me to sleep.”

“Wow,” Tony said, “you must find me quite the engaging talker.”

“You can tell I hate you?  Rats, I thought I was hiding it so well.”

Tony laughed and followed me into the cabin.

I ditched my boxers while he was in the bathroom, and I climbed up on the twin bed.  When Tony came out of the bathroom, I was sitting with my back against the headboard.  I patted the bedspread beside me.

“No shoes on the bed, mister,” I said.  “That’s bad luck.”

Tony kicked off his shoes and sat next to me.  I asked him to tell me about his tours of duty in Iraq.  Tony and I were about the same age, and his life seemed so much more interesting than mine.  I liked to hear him talk, too.

He wrapped an arm over my shoulder, and I snuggled close.  Tony smelled nice.  I drifted off.

When I woke up, I was under the covers, curled up against Tony.  He’d stripped down to his briefs, and he was asleep.  I had to pee very badly.  Trying not to wake him, I slid out of the bed.

“Skipping out on me?” Tony mumbled sleepily.

“Yeah.  You put me to sleep.”

“Oh.  Sorry ‘bout that.”  He rolled over.

“Don’t hog the bed,” I said.  “I’ll be right back.”

In the bathroom, I found myself marveling at what a sweet guy Tony was.  He hadn’t made a move on me, and he hadn’t taken advantage of me.  Tony honestly seemed to like me.

Maybe not
all
men were shitheads. 

My tee shirt landed in a crumpled pile on the floor.  Naked, I got back into bed with Tony and curled up against him.  “Hey,” I whispered.  “I like you.”  I kissed his cheek.

“I like you too,” Tony replied.  His hand ran along my back.  “Wait.  Where did your clothes go?”

“Don’t know?  Should I go look for them?”

“No,” Tony replied.  “I like touching you.”  He kissed me, drawing me against him and running his fingertips along my skin.  My breasts pressed against his bare chest.  My palm cupped his arm.

Tony was as patient a kisser as he was a talker.  There was a relaxed, we-have-forever vibe to his kisses, and in the dark they made me believe time had actually come to a halt.

Our half-sleepy kisses oozed with familiar sensuality, even though this was our first time together.  The first man I ever had in my bed was a classy, patient lover, and that made me glad.  No coatrooms or Bride’s Chambers for Tony and I.  Un-uh.  We made our magic in a twin bed in a cabin by the shore.

And it was magic.  When Tony finally climbed on top of me, and between my legs, my body was singing with arousal.  I trusted Tony, and he showed that he merited that trust.  Tony made my body hum.  When Tony pressed himself inside me, I giggled with delight, as if it were my very first time.

Tony would have been perfect for my first time.  He never once pounded me, or made me feel like a whore.  His cock coaxed a melody out of my cunt, and all the while he peppered me with kisses.  Tony was so gentle that I was surprised when my orgasm sprang up on me.  I always thought there had to be some acrobatic violence for a woman to orgasm, but that wasn’t so.  It turned out all I needed was to feel loved.

For the rest of my life, Tony would be my exemplar of the perfect lover.

He came inside me and we intertwined our bodies.  Tony and I fell asleep together that way, and it was the best sleep I’d had in a while.