The wedding was, as countless guests had commented, "simply lovely." My sister had wed her boyfriend of five years at a mountain resort in Montana in the late afternoon sun, and I have to admit, it was beautiful. I dislike formal weddings, as does my sister, and her outdoorsy touch was everywhere: no bridesmaids' dresses, no veil, no predictable wedding music. Just two young kids getting hitched in the view of the mountains and their friends, with cocktails before the ceremony—a nice touch, that.
Unfortunately, all the lovey-kissy that goes hand in hand with weddings contrasted starkly with my own relationship. It had been a tough year for me and my girlfriend Kayla, and it was most painful at the wedding, because when we received news of the engagement, our relationship was at its peak. We were thought by all to be next in line for the altar, and we talked openly about it—where and how we'd want to do it, who would be invited, what a crazy institution marriage is, how we'd never want to face divorce. Only now, a year later, was it clear that we would likely never be married, and were in fact headed in the opposite direction. The wedding felt to me, and I think to her as well, like a last obligation, a heavy farewell to what we could have been.
It was a combination of factors that had led to my dissatisfaction—her increasing prudishness as our relationship deepened emotionally, her general melancholy and need to be a savior to her tortured lot of friends, most of whom wanted a reliable shoulder to cry on. She was increasingly depressed, and my attempts to break that cycle succeeded, but only for a few hours. If that makes me sound insensitive, well, you try it. She had become unavailable emotionally, and the sex, which used to leave us both devastated and groaning into each other's flesh and hair, was all but gone. I had taken to masturbating alone once a day just to keep my own head straight.
After the ceremony, Kayla and I went back to our cabin to grab a sweater. She looked good in her summer dress, and we'd been around so many people for the past few days; it was a rare moment alone. As she bent over her suitcase, I stepped up behind her and began to massage her ass, sliding the edge of my palm between her cheeks.
"You know, we don't have to rush right back," I said softly.
She straightened up, sweater in hand.
"Your mom is going to want to take pictures."
"Oh hell, they can wait. Just a quickie," I said, as I tried to pull her back to me.
"I really think we should get going. Maybe later?" she said, pulling away and grabbing her purse.
And that's how it had been. Maybe I got spoiled along the way, but as a 31 year-old who had thankfully experienced several long-term relationships and many hook-ups, I was used to not having to initiate all the time, and asking for sex just seemed gross. Emasculating, even. Honestly, and at the risk of sounding like—oh, whatever. I consider myself attractive, and meeting women has always felt natural. Maybe it's having younger sisters: you get to know what upsets a woman, and how to communicate your thoughts to them. Jesus. I hate explaining this. Let's just say that I have no comprehension about men who complain that they never get head, or that they get nervous approaching a strange woman. Women want sex just like men do—they just don't always express those wants in the same way.
As we strolled back to the reception/dinner, I was pissed, and all the more on edge for not having had sex, but I marveled at the surroundings. Pine trees and glistening lakes were a welcome change from NYC, where I'd been for the past several years. I was excited for my sister and her new husband, who is a genuinely good guy.
Back at the reception, I did all the required stuff: dance, toast, laugh, drink; but I did most of it without Kayla. She had found a few people to talk to, and seemed to be enjoying herself. She gave me a nice kiss after my toast, but for the most part, I was free to chat up my sister, her husband and her friends. Which is how I met Audrey.
Audrey was a friend of my sister's I'd heard about but never met. She was one of her hippy friends, I thought, but upon meeting her, I realized that she didn't fit the stereotype. She was maybe 5'5", with medium blonde hair, a cute, round face with a great smile. What kept catching my eyes, however, were her breasts. Full and natural, with a slight valley of cleavage showing through the top of her light dress, I could feel how they felt by looking at them. I'm not the type to get a full erection by looking at a clothed woman, but I did feel myself swell up and begin to brush further down my leg as I shifted or stepped out of someone's way on the crowded patio.
Audrey was gorgeous. The sun kept catching the hair at her temples and making it shine, and when our eyes met, it was shyly at first, and then more daring. I caught myself once looking at her with no conversation at all to support such a gaze.
As the band wound down later in the evening, Kayla walked over to me and said she wanted to go to bed, but that I should stay up. From the look in her eyes, I could tell that arguing wasn't worth it. I could guilt her into staying up, but what was the point? There would be no sex, or unfulfilling sex at that, and she was plainly tired. I watched her walk into the shadows toward the cabin.
I tried getting back into the swing of things, but many guests had gone to bed, and even my sister was hard to talk to, as she was buzzed on all the attention. I grabbed another drink and wandered toward the lake. I realized in the full moonlight that two people approaching me on the path were Audrey and another girl. I said 'hi' as we passed, and then stopped to stare at the lake, stealing glances back the two friends. They paused, hugged, and then Audrey started to walk back toward me.
"What are you up to?" she asked.
"Nothing, just walking," I replied.
"You any good with a canoe?" she asked.
"It's one of my favorite things to do," I replied truthfully. The resort had a few canoes and kayaks set up next to the lake, and I'd already been out a couple of times in the preceding days, once with Kayla (briefly) and again by myself, just to float and watch the sky.
"But are you good with one? Because I'm a bit tipsy, and they say water and alcohol don't mix." She laughed and I smiled back.
"You don't seem drunk to me," I said.
"Oh, I'm not too bad. I just don't want to be the responsible one," she said.
