Always a Bridesmaid

Special thanks to JasmineGreen for encouraging me to turn my scattered ideas into a story and for reviewing and making it better. Thanks also to Barelyawriter for helping me develop some of the basic ideas for the story.

*****

I thrashed in my hotel bed, frustrated and unable to sleep. Once again, I checked the nightstand clock: 1:48 am. I let out a deep sigh. The wedding was scheduled for 2:00 pm, so it might seem like I still had plenty of time, but I was supposed to meet the other bridesmaids for breakfast at 8:30 (which I could probably skip) and we had a hair and makeup session right after that (which I really couldn't skip) and then we had to pick up the dresses, eat lunch with Bridezilla, get to the church early...

It was going to be a full day and it would've been nice to face it well-rested. After everything else that had gone wrong, I didn't want to be the bridesmaid who passed out during the ceremony.

*****

Kimberly the bride-to-be was hardly my best friend, and I was surprised she asked me to be in her wedding. After the fact, it seems obvious to me that people who knew her better than I did were wise enough to steer clear. I guess I kind of got dragged into it because my cousin Samantha was close friends with her, and someone else cancelled out kind of late.

I lived in the Los Angeles area, which is also where Kimberly and most of her friends were from. But her fiancée was from Phoenix, so that's where the wedding was booked. The people in the wedding party who were from SoCal, like me, were put up in a rambling, resort-style hotel which was also where the reception and the pre-wedding activities would happen.

At first, it seemed like it was going to be a fun little weekend getaway. I flew up late on Friday night, decided at the last minute to splurge on a rental car so I could sightsee a little, and drove to the hotel.

As I was checking in, I ran into Marcus, the groom-to-be. I didn't know him super-well, but I'd met him before when he was down in LA visiting Kimberly. He's a great-looking guy, an absolute god to be honest, and very sweet. He greeted me and we talked for a bit, and then a bit more, and I was feeling this warm little spark that I probably shouldn't have. When Kimberly suddenly showed up out of nowhere, I was startled a tiny bit and probably had a guilty look on my face, and Marcus maybe did too. I'm not sure if Kimberly noticed, but she did sort of drag him away and the smile she greeted me with seemed a bit tight and forced.

I should have recognized it as a warning of things to come.

Saturday morning, we had a wedding party breakfast, and then the party split up into smaller groups that all had Stuff To Do.

I went with Kimberly and her bridesmaids to a bridal store where we had final fittings for our dresses. I'd been measured in LA a week earlier and the measurements were sent to the shop in Phoenix, but of course long-distance stuff like that doesn't always work out perfectly.

In my case it certainly didn't. Maybe the dressmakers didn't believe my measurements or just weren't used to skinny little bodies with big boobs and long legs. My dress was way off, and I was sent off with one assistant while the other girls, whose dresses only needed minor adjustments, were handled by a different assistant.

Fortunately, the girl who was helping me knew what she was doing. She took the waist in nice and tight, fixed the bustline problem by lowering it considerably, and decided to leave the hem short because I have the legs for it. She pinned everything in place and let me twirl in the mirror and have a look. I had to say, even though I wasn't crazy about the dress design (what bridesmaid ever is), it looked really nice on me, even pretty hot, once it fit me properly. I was smiling, the assistant was happy that I was happy, and all was good.

Enter Bridezilla.

"What the fuck is this?" Kimberly snapped as she stormed into the alcove where I was being fitted. "Why the fuck are you just re-designing the dress?"

"We had to adjust the..." started the assistant, but Kimberly waved her off and glared at me.

"Haven't you ever been to a wedding before?" she snarled. "The basic concept is the bridesmaids all wear the same dress. They all look the same." I took a deep breath.

"They are the same," I said, keeping my voice calm. "It just didn't fit right, it needs some adjustments."

I watched as Kimberly literally turned red, her face twisted in anger.

"Is this your wedding?" she asked, her voice getting louder and shriller.

"No."

"Whose wedding is it?"

"Yours."

"THEN WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU ARGUING WITH ME?"

My face was burning and my pulse was pounding. My blood was filled with rage and humiliation. The other bridesmaids and employees looked on uncomfortably, maybe wondering if they should jump in on one side or the other.

But there really weren't two sides, I realized. Even if she was being a complete bitch about it, she was right: this was her wedding, her Big Day. I took a deep breath and swallowed.

"Sorry," I croaked in a shaky voice. Kimberly glared at me for a few more heartbeats as if daring me to say something else. I didn't. She turned her anger back to the assistant.

"This isn't Project Runway," she said. "You're not getting paid to be brilliant. Just do your job, make her dress look like the others."

If she'd just left it there, it would've been fine. But she didn't. She stomped around the shop gathering up her stuff, since her part was done, while everyone else maintained that uncomfortable silence. And then she delivered her parting shot.

"If you want to have your boobs hanging out, if you want your dress so short your ass shows, do it on your own time," she said. "But nobody's gonna look like a slut at my wedding."

One of the other bridesmaids gasped, but no one said anything. I felt hot tears of anger and shame, but I blinked them back as Kimberly stormed out.

"She doesn't mean it," my cousin Samantha mumbled. "It's just nerves." Nobody else spoke to me as the rest of them departed, leaving me behind with the sullen, angry shop assistants to re-fit my dress.

I wanted strip off the dress, throw it in the trash, drive straight to the airport and just fly home. Fuck Kimberly and fuck the wedding. I really gave it serious consideration.

Why didn't I? I guess there's still a little girl inside me that believes in fairy tale weddings; a part of me that hopes if I ever have a wedding, people around me will put up with me even if I'm freaking out and will still try to make my Big Day a perfect day.

I guess there's still a little princess inside of me that hopes I won't be always a bridesmaid and never a bride.

*****

Later we had the rehearsal, followed by the rehearsal dinner. At the rehearsal, I did my best to keep a low profile and stay out of Kimberly's way. She pretty much ignored me, so apparently I was doing a good job.

I guess word got out about the incident at the bridal shop, because quite a few people looked at me funny and I heard some whispers. I didn't know if anyone was sympathetic or if they just thought I was some tramp trying to ruin the wedding, but then Marcus' mother Shalina made a point of introducing herself, giving me a big hug and thanking me for being there.

The rehearsal dinner seemed like it would be a lower pressure event than the rehearsal itself, so I thought I was past the worst part of the day. The large wedding party filled up most of the main restaurant at the hotel. There was a lot of mingling before we sat down to eat. I met a bunch of people, saw some old friends, and was finally able to relax and enjoy myself.

At one point Marcus approached me.

"Hi Kiki," he said in his deep, rumbling voice. "I heard there was some issue with fitting the dresses. I hope everything is okay?"

I didn't really want to talk about it, but his sexy voice, warm smile and chiseled, dark good looks lulled me into feeling safe. It was nice to feel that he cared, and my face broke into a smile.

"It's fine," I said. "My dress didn't quite fit, so they made some adjustments but Kimberly --"

"Are you still bitching about the dress?" Kimberly snapped from behind me. It caused me to jump, and as I turned awkwardly toward her, I bumped into a chair and stumbled. Marcus put a hand on my shoulder to steady me. Kimberly saw it; her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. I had a sudden flash of insight that her anger toward me wasn't because of the dress but because she didn't like me talking to Marcus.

"I wasn't --" I started.

"If you don't like the fucking dress," she said, voice raised, "just get on a plane and go home."

"Kimmie!" said Marcus.

"WHAT?" she shrieked. The whole restaurant fell silent. Not just the wedding party, but all the other tables around us.

Marcus opened his mouth to reply. She was looking at him, but he glanced my way and he and we had a brief, secret instant of eye contact. I gave him a pained expression and shook my head, hoping he got my message. Oh god, I thought, please get my message. Don't step in to defend me. Don't take my side against her, not right now. That would lead to chaos and there probably would end up being no wedding, and everyone would blame me.

He got the message. He gave her a dazzling smile that could melt a glacier and put his arm around her waist.

"Nuthin', babe," he drawled. "Except, it's time to eat. Let's grab a seat."

"Okay baby!" she said, suddenly switching to sweetness and light. She beamed, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and they turned their backs on me and headed toward the head of the table.

I moved to the other end. I planted my butt in a chair at least two seats from anyone else. People were still milling around finding seats, but nobody seemed to be in a hurry to sit next to the slutty big-boobed wedding destroyer. And I was fine with that.

I glanced to the head of the main table, and noticed Marcus talking to another guy. I didn't know the guy, but I recognized him from the rehearsal as one of the ushers. He and Marcus glanced in my direction, but I didn't think anything of it. Then a few moments later, the same guy approached me.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked. He wasn't in the same league as Marcus, but he was a good-looking guy with a nice smile.

"Knock yourself out," I said, and almost asked him he really wanted to be sit with the wedding wrecker, but I swallowed my bitterness and managed a return smile.

"I'm Tim," he said. "Friend of Marcus', one of the ushers."

"I'm Kiki," I answered. "Bridesmaid."

"Nice to meet you, Kiki," he said, then let out a sigh. "She's a pistol, isn't she?" There was no doubt he was talking about Kimberly.

"I probably shouldn't say anything."

"I understand. But look, if it's any consolation, she doesn't like me either. She thinks I'm a bad influence on Marcus."

"You? Why?" I was genuinely surprised. Tim was clean-cut and seemed mild-mannered. My stereotype "bad influence" guy would look more like a member of a biker gang.

"She doesn't care for my politics," he said. But before he could explain, somebody sat next to him, and introductions were made, and then some people sat with us, and conversation started to flow. Then the food started arriving, and suddenly it was turning into almost a normal evening.

*****

If you're single, it's likely that you think about out-of-town weddings as a place where you might hook up. That's especially true if you're in the wedding party, where you kind of stand out. You're given temporary demi-god status.

That fantasy had certainly been true for me. For a couple of months before the wedding, I'd mostly been on a dating dry spell, so I had been looking forward to mingling with some other singles at the wedding and my hopes were high. Unfortunately, things weren't working out like I hoped. Not only had I spent most of the day getting yelled at by Kimberly, but I also noticed that almost everyone else involved in the wedding was coupled up.

But suddenly, here was Tim. Warm, polite, funny. Easy to talk to, comfortable to be silent with. He seemed to be determined to make sure my night wasn't completely ruined by Kimberly's earlier outbursts. And he was clearly single.

Somehow, he didn't feel like exactly my type, but as the evening wore on, that seemed to matter less and less. Even in the rare moments he wasn't focused on me, I found myself sneaking glances at him, watching him smile or checking out his body or...

...imagining him as my lover.

By the time the dinner finished, and people were moving toward the exit, I was sure I wanted him, and now it was just a matter of closing the deal.

"So," I said, "are you staying at the hotel?"

"No, I'm local. My house is about a fifteen-minute drive from here."

I hesitated for just a moment, my eyes locked on his, and then I made the move.

"So Tim," I said in my most seductive voice, "would you like to come up to my room for a bit?"

His face started doing odd things, as if he couldn't figure what expression he wanted. It ended up falling short of horrified but somewhere down that path.

"Oh Kiki, I'm so flattered..."

And then suddenly everything clicked into place and I realized my fragile emotions had caused me to miss the signs, and a few more broken pieces fell from me as my night continued to shatter. I knew exactly what his next words would be.

"Oh, Kiki," he said, "I'm so sorry. I'm gay."

*****

Right after dinner, the bar was still pretty quiet, so I drank alone. Later, it began to fill up and I was just too much of a target. Two middle-aged businessmen from St. Louis tried to chat me up, and they were actually kind of funny and pretty easy to talk to, but it became clear they wanted me to do an MMF threesome with them, and...just no.

A rare single guy from the wedding party took his shot next, but he turned out to be a complete douche and was annoyingly persistent. As I tried to get rid of him, I could see other guys eyeing me and lurking, so I finally decided I'd be better off alone in my room, even though the night was still young.

*****

And of course with my brain filled with anger and frustration and disappointment and a bunch of other toxic waste, I couldn't sleep and I tossed and turned for hours. At 1:48 am, I finally gave up and decided I might as well do something I enjoyed for a little while, and maybe that would help me relax.

So I decided to look at porn.

I turned on a reading light and fired up my laptop. I logged onto the website that rhymes with "corn club" and started searching for something that would tickle my fancy. Hmmm, let's see. I decided I wanted some beefcake: something featuring a tall, fit, athletic man...handsome features, dark hair and complexion, dazzling smile...

...someone like Marcus...

I lay in bed wearing only a little white thong, caressing myself and getting increasingly aroused as I scanned the videos that "Corn Club" offered in response to my search commands. I wasn't finding what I wanted, and the clock told me it was well almost 2:30 am, so I started thinking I'd just have to make do with something or I'd be up all night searching.

I'd left the sliding doors open so I could get a little breeze to cool my room. It had been quiet outside my room for hours, but suddenly I heard voices not far away. Boisterous, laughing, male.

"Gnight, Marcus," I heard distinctly, then several others echoing the same, and a deeper voice responding. I realized it must be Marcus' bachelor party returning to the hotel after a night of hitting the town.

The same group of voices, or a subset, passed through the courtyard near my balcony a bit more quietly. It sounded like four or five guys, with a couple of simultaneous conversations going on, getting clearer as they approached.

"...mumble mumble..."

"...that chick Kiki's a babe, damn..."

"...up early for golf..."

"...the ass on that stripper...."

"...surprised Marcus didn't..."

"...I would have..."

"...Kimberly...pussywhipped..."

"...mumble mumble..."

I listened as the voices faded in the distance. I was just getting back to my laptop, when a soft knock on my door almost made me jump out of my skin. I couldn't think why anyone would be knocking at that hour, but I wanted to check the peephole in case it was some sort of emergency.

Wearing only my panties, I looked around for something to cover up with. The first thing I grabbed was a towel I'd left on a chair near the door. Not a bath towel; it was just a hand towel, but I clutched it to my bare breasts as I leaned to look out the peephole.

It was Marcus.

Relieved it was someone I knew, I opened the door without giving it a lot of thought. Marcus looked nervous, almost a little frightened, and his eyes widened when he saw how little I was wearing. Seeing myself in his eyes for an instant, I felt a hot blush on my face that spread to my throat and chest.

"Marcus, what --"

"Sorry Kiki, I saw your light on, I...maybe I should go --"

Saw my light on? How would he even know what room I was in? Well, of course he or his family probably booked all the rooms, so maybe he'd seen a list, but still...

Those questions and others may have been flashing through my mind, I don't even remember now, I just know I stood there stupidly for several seconds trying to process this situation.

I was snapped out of it by the sound of a door slamming and a voice off in the distance. Marcus' head jerked in the direction of the sound, and he suddenly looked even more frightened. It hit me how vulnerable he was just then; he couldn't afford to be seen lurking at the door of a bridesmaid's room in the wee hours before his wedding day. I needed to send him off quickly, or...

"Come in," I said, gesturing urgently. He stepped in, almost brushing me, and I caught a whiff of his masculinity mixed with cheap perfume like a stripper might wear. I stuck my head out in the hallway, looking both ways, and saw that they were empty. We were all clear.

As I closed the door, I realized he was behind me and getting a really good look. As revealing as the front view was, from the back he would see everything. My only "covering" was a tiny strip of fabric disappearing between by naked ass cheeks. I could feel his eyes on me, touching the bare skin of my back, legs and ass. Only my shoulders would be covered by my mid-length dark hair. His eyes felt almost like fingers caressing me, and it felt...really good. I turned to face him; he hadn't gone far into the room, and we were standing very close. My hand nervously clutched the tiny towel tighter to my breasts. My breath caught and I swallowed hard.

"Marcus," I said in almost a whisper, "why are you here?" He hesitated, thinking about his answer, and I realized even he probably wasn't sure what the answer was.

"I'm sorry, I know it's late. It's just...I know she was horrible to you today, and I wanted to apologize, and make sure everything's alright, and..."

He trailed off, and suddenly the horrors of the day came rushing back to me: Kimberly's insults and anger, the humiliation with Tim, the weirdos in the bar...tears boiled up in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks and no, everything was definitely not alright.

"Awww, Kiki," he said, and he opened his arms to give me the hug I desperately needed. I stepped into him, but it was awkward because I was trying to hug with one arm while the other arm was in the way in between us, so I finally just dropped the towel, wrapped both arms around him and pressed my naked breasts into the thin t-shirt that failed to cushion the hard contours of his muscular body.

We stood like that for a few moments. I sobbed into his chest, holding tight to him while his big warms hands caressed the skin of my back, and it just felt so fucking good. His strength and warmth melted my tension and my sobbing finally stopped and the warmth spread lower and my hips moved without my permission, pressing my groin into his thigh. I looked up into his eyes and I could see he felt the same spark I did, and then our faces moved closer and then we were kissing.