Bridget the Bossy Bridezilla

INTRODUCTION & DISCLAIMER

To those on the outside, Ben Marshall and his fiancée Bridget O'Connell look like a perfect, good-looking yuppie couple living in the Australian city of Brisbane in the early 1990s. However, in private Ben struggles with his bride-to-be's bossy, bitchy and controlling personality, with things only getting worse as their wedding draws closer.

Will Ben continue to put up with Bridget's difficult personality, and what will Bridget herself do as the cracks in their engagement widen? Read this satirical and seductive story of sexual liaisons to find out.

All characters engaging in sexual activity are aged 18 & older, with all characters and events entirely fictional. Any similarity to real persons living or dead are coincidental and unintentional.

*

BEN Marshall looked up from looked up from the folder of plans he had brought home to work on over the weekend as the sound of his fiancée Bridget O'Connell's car pulled to a stop in the garage of the house in Eastern Brisbane they shared. He stood up and put the plans back into their folder, having finished most of the review work, the young architect satisfied with how this project was going.

At 25 years of age, Ben's career was coming along well and this client was a dream to work with, and it could well lead to another step up the ladder in the architecture firm. His co-worker Kevin was not having such a great time. He was working with a nightmare of a client down on the Gold Coast, a rich woman named Tracy who was demanding and uncompromising in the plans for the guest house she and her husband had planned for their enormous mansion near Broadbeach. Kevin was completely stressed by the woman, whom he had labelled 'Cyclone Tracy', a not so flattering reference to the cyclone that had all but destroyed the Northern Territory city of Darwin on Christmas Eve in 1974. Ben had never met this Tracy, but imagined some formidable, scowling school teacher/matron type; plump, hair in a tight bun and glasses, much like the teacher of his first year at school.

Still Kevin had one advantage over Ben. Kevin was stressed by a woman client at work and he got to leave her at the office and go home to his loving wife and their young son and daughter. The woman who stressed Ben the most was not a female client nor a female co-worker. The woman who stressed Ben the most in life was walking to the front door at this very minute. There was no escape from her, none at all.

Ben, a tall and good looking young man with light brown hair, deep brown eyes and a fine physique toned by hours in the gym and taking advantage of the beautiful Queensland weather to play rugby league and compete in swimming and surf carnivals on the Gold Coast when he was younger, walked over to the door, knowing Bridget usually liked him to greet her. That depended on her mood, which could be unpredictable at best. The only time Ben could accurately gauge Bridget's mood was every fourth week, when her hormones went wild and everything he did and said was wrong, and would frequently end up in Ben being sent to the couch for the night. Fortunately, this week was not one of those weeks, but if Bridget had had a bad day at work things would go badly for him when she got home. He always made excuses for her; as a dentist, he doubted it would be pleasant looking into people's mouths all day, before another little voice in his head reminded him that Bridget was the one who had chosen a career in dentistry, before he came up with another excuse for her.

Suppressing a sigh, Ben opened the door to admit the slim, pretty, petite young woman with long blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes into the house. It had been a warm and sunny July day in Brisbane, and while July and August were of course the Australian winter it rarely got too cold in Queensland thanks to the state's northern latitude, hence Bridget's pretty floral dress and white sandals.

"How was your day today, honey?" Ben asked, leaning down to kiss Bridget on her lips and prevent her from replying straight away. Their tongues inter-twined in each other's mouths, but as Ben embraced Bridget he could tell from her posture and from the lack of passion in her French kiss that she was in one of her cold, indifferent moods.

"Fine, thank you," said Bridget as she pulled her mouth away from Ben's face and out of his embrace and walked to the kitchen counter-top, placing her shoulder bag down and browsing through the mail and looking around the living area, before her eyes looked at Ben's work folder. "Bringing work home again, Ben?" she asked, her tone disapproving.

"Just finished it, sweetie," Ben assured the young woman, who glared back at him with cold blue eyes before her facial expression returned to neutral. Bridget always got annoyed when he brought home work, but thought nothing of herself bringing home paperwork from the dental practice.

"I need the loo," said Bridget, turning to walk towards the bathroom. She looked at Ben. "Did you clean up the bathroom like I told you to this morning?"

"It's all finished," Ben assured Bridget, who turned and left the room without a word.

Less than 30 seconds later, Bridget was back, this time holding a roll of toilet paper. "What is this, Ben?" she asked cuttingly.

Knowing that giving the obvious answer of a roll of toilet paper would only irritate Bridget even more, he said nothing, simply shrugging his shoulders.

Bridget sneeringly imitated Ben's shoulder-shrug and said, "When you replace the toilet paper, it is placed on the holder over rather than under - it's not rocket science." She continued to glare at Ben before stomping her foot. "Can't I even go to the toilet without you annoying me? You're so inconsiderate, Ben." With that, Bridget flounced out of the room, Ben hearing the door to their bathroom slam and lock.

It was five minutes before Ben - who had taken the cold chicken and salad they were eating for dinner from the refrigerator - heard the faint sound of Bridget flushing the toilet and washing her hands then her footsteps as she returned. Bridget had removed her sandals and was now barefoot, Ben admiring her perfectly pedicured feet as she walked towards the kitchen. In all the time they had been together, Ben had never once mentioned to Bridget that he found her bare feet sexually attractive. His fiancée tended to be prissy about anything even remotely like a fetish - again Ben made excuses for Bridget given that she had a prim Irish Catholic background - so he dared not say anything.

Without a word, Bridget picked up her plate of chicken and salad and poured herself a glass of cold water, before spying Ben about to pour some low kilojoule salad dressing onto his plate. "And what are you doing with that?" she snapped.

"Sorry?" asked Ben.

Bridget walked over, snatched the bottle from Ben's hand, and threw it into the kitchen bin. "You don't need that. I don't want you fat for our wedding."

"Come on, Bridget its low kilojoule," protested Ben. He was far from fat, and always ate healthy.

"You're not having it," snapped Bridget. She glared at Ben. "September 11, 1993, that's our wedding day. It's less than five weeks now. Do you even care about me at all Ben? Do you?"

In a sulk, Bridget grabbed her plate, cutlery and glass and went to the couch, sitting down to eat in silence, an equally silent Ben sitting beside her. It was when Bridget had finished eating that the telephone rang, Bridget getting up to answer it. "Hello?" she asked.

Ben watched as Bridget's demeanor and manner changed, a brilliant smile filling her face. "Hi Daddy!" she gushed, running her fingers through her hair and talking to her father as though she was having the best day of her life.

Ben cleared the plates and would have been willing to bet a fair sum of money that Mr. O'Connell was calling Bridget 'Princess' on the other end of the receiver. There was something quite wrong about a man calling his 24-year-old daughter 'Princess' and the same 24-year-old daughter calling her father 'Daddy', especially in public but like with so many things in his life, Ben held his tongue.

"Here's Pumpkin to say hello," said Bridget, reaching down to pick up her dog, a small Shitzu terrier that had just wandered into the living room. Pumpkin was yet another issue in his life where Ben held his tongue. Ben was more of a cat person, and while he liked dogs well enough, he did not like snappy, yappy little dogs like Pumpkin. On bad days, Ben fantasized about taking Pumpkin for a walk somewhere on the Gold Coast or in Toowoomba, somehow losing the dog and seeing if dogs had the same homing instinct as cats, which had been known to walk for hundreds of miles to get home after their owners moved house. However, as Pumpkin was as gift from Bridget's beloved Daddy for his daughter's 21st birthday, there wasn't much Ben could say.

"I'll see you on Sunday, Daddy," said the smiling Bridget. "Got to go. No, you hang up," she said, the girl and her father playing this game for about 30 seconds while Ben tried to finish the dishes and put it out of his mind.

Now in a far better mood, Bridget bounced into the kitchen. "Thanks for doing the washing up, Ben," she said. "How about I show you how much I appreciate it?"

With that, Bridget leaned forward and kissed Ben on the lips. As they kissed deeper, Ben felt the passion in the French kiss was there now. Allowing Bridget to lead him back to the living room sofa by the hand, Ben knew that he should be disturbed by the fact that the frosty girl had only snapped out of her mood and become sexually aroused after speaking to her father on the telephone, but his excitement and desires - obvious by his rapidly expanding groin - were too much so he pushed it from his brain. He was going to fuck a very pretty young blonde woman, and that was all that mattered to him at the moment.

"You're excited," giggled Bridget, as the barefoot blonde lay back against her boyfriend, rubbing her bottom against Ben's groin, feeling his erection as the area between her legs began to tingle and moisten.

"You did that to me," said Ben as Bridget stroked his cock through his jeans and underpants with sensual hands. Bridget was good at hand jobs; that was for sure. He would have liked to have seen if she was as good at head jobs, but Bridget had made it very clear in the past that fellatio was something she would never, ever do.

Ben cupped his hands around Bridget's B-cup breasts, feeling the young woman's firm flesh through the fabric of her dress and her bra. He circled his hands around Bridget's tits, feeling her nipples getting harder and harder. Bridget may not have had the biggest boobs in Brisbane, but the vision of her breasts appearing in his mind's eye could give Ben a hard-on, anywhere, anytime which could present quite a problem if it happened in public.

Taking his hands off Bridget's tits as she unzipped his jeans and placed her hands into his underpants, massaging his dick while one of her fingers traced around his testicles, Ben put his hands up Bridget's skirt, soon finding the soft, white, cotton bikini-brief panties she was wearing.

His left hand felt the fabric that covered the firm cheeks of her bottom. Ben fondled Bridget's bottom through her knickers, before slipping his fingers inside to massage the skin of her buttocks, hearing her giggle in response. The mental images of Bridget's bare bottom with such smooth fair skin like those of her breasts could cause Ben's penis to react at inopportune times if they appeared in his mind's eye.

Ben's right hand found the front of Bridget's knickers. He traced the front panel, feeling the soft blonde curls of pubic hair through the cotton and then the indent caused by her vagina. Bridget had completely freed his dick from his underpants and was giving him a slow, seductive hand job, so Ben allowed his hand to go into the front of Bridget's knickers. He traced through her pubic hair, then pushed his fingers deeper into her crotch and the soft, moist lips of her vagina.

"Oh yes, that feels great!" squealed Bridget, her legs pushing out, the girl curling and uncurling the toes of her bare feet as her fiancé massaged her damp pussy, his fingers circling her clitoris and then moving back further and deeper into her vagina. Ben wondered if he would make it into the bedroom before he came, so good was the feeling of fingering Bridget's pussy as she jerked him off.

Unfortunately for Ben, Pumpkin had re-entered the living room and thinking this was some sort of game, the dog lunged forward and bit Ben with small sharp teeth on his shoulder.

"Fuck!" yelled Ben, jumping in shock. His fingers that were traversing Bridget's vagina slipped as his body reacted, going further down between her legs assisted by the natural lubrication of Bridget's feminine excitement. Before he could stop it from happening, his finger found a different part of Bridget's anatomy - the tight, starfish-shape of her anus. If foot fetishes and fellatio were off limits with Bridget, then her anus was like the forbidden zone.

Bridget went rigid and stopped masturbating him, and Ben cringed and hastily removed his hands from her panties, knowing what was going to happen next.

Bridget spat like a snake. "Get off me, Ben. What the fuck did you think, touching me there?"

"Sorry Bridget, it was the dog ..." Ben protested, before Bridget cut him off and stood up.

"Don't you dare try and blame poor Pumpkin for this. You know I can't stand to be touched back there, and you do it anyway? You only care about your own pleasure, Ben, you are so selfish. Get away from me and don't try and touch me again tonight, you pervert."

"Honey, that's not fair ..." Ben protested, but Bridget was not going to listen. Smoothing down her dress to cover her white knickers, Bridget stormed away on her bare feet making for the bedroom. Already sure that he was going to spend the night on the couch, Ben had this confirmed a few moments later when Bridget returned to throw a blanket at him and collect Pumpkin, before the bedroom door slammed shut and Ben was on his own for the night.

*

While Bridget often banished Ben to the couch after a fight, he had never really gotten used to the feel of this piece of furniture and found it hard to sleep here. It was definitely the case tonight as hundreds of thoughts ran through Ben's mind, mainly asking himself, "What the fuck am I doing here?"

Sure, he loved Bridget, at least he thought he did. He thought back to their first meeting several years earlier, a chance meeting when both were out running on the Gold Coast, during a long weekend at Surfer's Paradise. Everything had seemed sunshine and roses back then - love at first sight - and the photographs that adorned their living room showed a blissfully happy and successful young couple, with much in common. Nobody knew the difficulties behind the façade. Sure it was normal for couples to fight or for people close to getting married to feel apprehensive, but Ben knew he made too many excuses for Bridget's behavior, even if he had never expressed that thought aloud. As the hands on the living room clock continued to wind throughout the night, Ben thought more and more about his difficult fiancée.

He and Bridget each came from a family of three kids, interestingly each a reversal of the other even the first letter in each name. In Ben's family, he was the oldest, then came his sister Charlene and his younger brother Craig. In Bridget's family, Bridget's sister Caroline was the oldest, then came the brother Chris and Bridget was the youngest.

Of course, youngest daughter Bridget was the apple of her father's eye and was pretty spoiled as a result. Ben could have tolerated things better if Bridget was simply a spoiled rich girl who had grown up into a shallow, controlling and materialistic yuppie, but the relationship with her father was distinctly odd, not that Ben ever spoke of this either. Nor did Bridget's mother, a quiet woman who seemed mainly interested in church, attending Mass every day without fail.

Even as Ben and Bridget moved in together, purchased a house together, when Ben purchased Bridget's engagement ring, when he asked Mr. O'Connell for permission to marry his daughter and when he actually proposed, Ben always felt like there was a second, smaller version of himself sitting on his shoulder saying, "Mate, you're making a huge mistake here." However, due to his fear of failure and given that he genuinely cared for Bridget and didn't want to hurt her, he had done nothing.

Now it was too late. As Bridget had pointed out earlier in the evening, their wedding day was on Saturday, September 11 1993. The eleventh day of September was an unremarkable date where nothing remotely interesting in history had ever happened, but it was ominous to Ben, looming out of the calendar at him, the days ticking down. And Bridget, controlling and highly strung at best, had everything for this day planned to the nth degree. Heaven help anyone who stood in the way of Bridget's plans for a perfect wedding day.

Another danger of calling off the wedding to Bridget was her father. The man was a lawyer, not just any lawyer but one of Queensland's most highly priced barristers, his fees several thousands of dollars per day. He had handled a vast number of high profile criminal and civil cases, including divorces of rich and influential people. Ben was sure that the man could recite the Family Law Act underwater. In any separation from his beloved daughter, Mr. O'Connell would make sure that Ben came out of the other side destitute.

One thing that Ben and Bridget did have in common was that they both bore the expectations of providing their parents with grandchildren to be proud of. Bridget's older sister Caroline was married, and had been for some time, but it seemed that the spare room at their house would never become a nursery. Caroline had proven infertile, and she and her husband were working with IVF fertility doctors in an attempt to have a baby. They had spent thousands of dollars on many failed cycles despite the warnings of the doctors that their chances of a baby were like winning the first prize of a lottery twice in a year. Caroline in particular had taken this hard, and was increasingly depressed in recent years. Bridget would always remind Ben never to say anything to upset her older sister when they met, even though Ben never had done nor said anything wrong in this regard.

Bridget's brother Chris had proven to be gay, so there was no chance of any children there. Chris had moved to Sydney, a city known for its homosexual community, to live with his boyfriend. Mr. O'Connell had spent fruitless hours and money enrolling Chris in many different sports - rugby, Australian Football, soccer, cricket and tennis - to toughen him up as a boy and refusing his sons requests to pursue more female oriented pursuits, all to no avail. So now their kids were adults, the onus was firmly on Bridget to produce Mr. and Mrs. O'Connell their first grandchild. And Bridget already had the future baby's name chosen; Sean if it was a boy, Emma if a girl. Ben had no say so in the matter.

Ben's own parents were extremely ambitious people, his mother and father expecting the best of their three children and ruthlessly pursuing high academic, sporting and personal achievements for them. Second best was never good enough; winning was all that was important.

It was fortunate that Ben, as the first-born eldest son lived up to these lofty expectations. He had excelled academically and at sports, and now he was an architect and soon to marry. Mr. and Mrs. Marshall thought Bridget was perfect; a winning girl for their winning son who would produce some winning grandchildren in coming years. His parents were another reason Ben found it hard to express his doubts about marrying Bridget. Years of living up to their high standards made it difficult for him to do anything that might make them disappointed in him.