Thank you for reading!
This is a slow burn, in multiple parts. Nothing but kissing and suggestiveness in this first part.
Comments mean a lot
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The Wedding of the Fashion Dolls
© 2021
CeVin_ChienElle
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Elody Conners was bored out of her skull. She was only at the dinner because the Conners contingent was so shy of relatives. It wasn't like she'd had anything to rehearse.
She felt a perverse desire for a cigarette, though her last smoke had been ground out between a deck shoe and a dock more than two decades previously. That was back when Obelia was still charming and fascinating. "Beelee" had been able to coax her into anything.
Judith had charmed her into sucking on (among other things) the end of a burning paper tube stuffed with shredded leaves a bit over a decade and a half before Beelee had charmed her into stopping. Well, stopping the burning tubes. She owed Beelee that, at least. Maybe it was worth the heartbreak.
Judith had flitted away, and Beelee had sneaked away, and now here she was after a lifetime of acquaintances, sitting near the end of the table in a posh Italian restaurant in Grosse Pointe Woods, trying to stay awake for her niece's—and soon to be niece in law's—rehearsal dinner. The niece who'd been in kindergarten when Elody had quit smoking was now going to marry the love of her life. They were absolutely soul mates, you could see it when they looked at each other. Whatever might come later, right now all they wanted was to share their lives. Share their
life
. Live and grow old together.
Tomorrow they'd make it official. Lucky little twerps.
She really was happy for them when the green-eyed monster was being kept at bay, but it just wasn't fair, dammit! Apart from the facts that they could even
get
married and had found each other, they were both stunning. Like, "model turned movie star" stunning.
In El's opinion Bandia, her niece, and Anilaja, Bandi's fiancee—collectively known as "BandAnja"—were only allowed to get married because the goddesses were amused by the fact that they would frustrate the het males. That and they couldn't reproduce directly with each other. Combining
those
genes would produce women too beautiful to be allowed. The goddesses would wipe them out with no better excuse than preemptive jealousy.
"Bandia" and "Anilaja," for mercy's sake. Irish for "goddess" and Hindi for "perfect." El remembered when she had been that slim, that smooth, that... taut. Never quite that good looking, of course, but BandAnja were so good looking they weren't as good looking as they were,
since
nobody
could possibly be that goddamn
'
good looking
!
Not that El thought her own looks would turn anyone to stone. Her twenties through mid thirties had had a few downsides, but those had little to do with her appearance. Really she couldn't bring to mind any but her brother Willy and her truly stellar record at failed relationships. That last was a considerable downside, but otherwise the span had been pretty good, even if it had started badly.
Poor Mama.
Those relationships, though. If you could call anything as one-sided as both of them had been "a relationship." Fifteen years wasted on two women, both of whom were "The One," even though neither of them ever told her
she
was. Plenty of people had told her neither of
them
were, but what did "plenty of people" know?
She put a hard stop on that train of thought and re-boarded the "hot-ass twenty-something nieces" line. Better to be envious than bitter.
Not that she ever wanted to be that young again, of course, or even have that body again. Well, maybe the skin. Lines were fine (if they were
fine
) but when the skin under her jaw started to sag a little it was a tad alarming, although she found it kind of sexy on other women, and yes she knew
you
didn't think it was sagging, but that was not the point. Her twenty-six year old self would have balked hard at the idea of taking someone who looked her
current
age to bed, and yes, she
also knew
that
you
didn't think that, but who the hell cared what you thought anyway? She knew she wasn't that attractive to young women, because kids were so shallow, so shut up, oh nameless critic.
She sighed and picked at her ravioli. She was seated between "Mr. Sorry I didn't catch your name okay fine then just totally ignore me you rude old bastard," and "Marge, Anilaja's Lesbian Aunt." She'd heard the capital letters when Marge was introduced by one of the Matrons of Honor—maybe Ani's MoH? Whatever. She and Marge had chatted for a minute, and then some family member up the table had grabbed Marge's attention and kept it. Tenaciously. Marge had actually attempted to turn back to her right-hand table mate multiple times, but with zero success.
The over-explicitness of the introduction hadn't been necessary. El had known for some time that Bandia's girl had an aunt who wasn't straight, but this was the first time they'd met. Not surprising, really, since she'd only met Ani a handful of times previous to the dinner. Very brief meetings, all of them. "Ani, this is my Aunt El. She's 'Fam,'" was the first meeting, and "you remember my Aunt Elody" were most of the rest. The longest conversation she'd had with Ani lasted less than fifteen minutes, although it was long enough to tell her that the girl was absolutely delightful.
Oh, well.
Anyway, it was nice that The Other Lesbian Aunt was not just "not straight," but also very good looking. Maybe forty-five or so, so old enough to converse with without having to explain most of the references. Deliciously curvy everywhere she should be. Toned but not a hardbody. Dark brown, almost black hair pulled into a loose braid, with the occasional meteoric streak in the midst of that warm dark night. Deep brown eyes. A very nice neck. Kissable ear lobes. Full-but-not-pouty lips. Really
interesting
from the waist all the way down to the feet—she'd caught that much as the woman was being seated. Just all-over attractive.
Very
attractive. Subtly visible "points of interest" if you looked very carefully. She could imagine...
"
