Wedding Planner Lesbian Service

7:18 am -- Issue: The Mother

The second shot of espresso prepares me for the chaos on this island. An unexpected storm last week caused air travel delays so now everything is rushed at the last minute. The day of the wedding. I'm wearing a flowing sundress with my long hair tamed by a loose braid, holding a tablet on my forearm to remain up-to-date on everything.

Early in the morning I check the venue to make sure everything will be ready for the wedding at noon. Then I check the vendors to make sure the services will be ready before, during, and after the wedding. With over 70 guests in attendance from different parts of the world, top notch service is a must. I go to the kitchen to ensure that the hors d'oeuvres are being prepared, along with the steak and lobster for lunch.

This may sound tedious, but I can assure you this is my dream job. I've always been a people pleaser and creating someone's dream wedding is the peak. Happy couples, happy families, extravagant parties with an array of flowers. It's life at its best. Plus I love the chaos. It gives me an adrenaline rush like nothing else.

Before leaving the kitchen, Mrs. Habsburg comes into the scene with her trademark air of sophistication. She's the woman bankrolling this entire event (including my fee) and she acts like it. In the build-up to the wedding, it's often the mothers who are the fussiest, but she takes it to the extreme. In the last week I saw her tearing people down for the flimsiest of reasons. A few employees even cried in private.

We make small talk and exchange pleasantries, hers being passive aggressive. She acts like she's checking on the kitchen staff, but really she's checking on me. A part of me thinks Mrs. Habsburg is motivated to upstage her future in-laws, using this wedding as a show of force. It's one of the many games that can happen on wedding days.

As our banter ends, she holds out a finger to stop me from leaving.

"Oh, and another thing. I have other children who may get married in the near future. Do a fabulous job today and perhaps we can keep doing business."

"I appreciate that, Mrs. Habsburg, and rest assured, today will be marvelous."

"Good, because the opposite is also true. Anything less than stellar and everyone will know."

Dealing with veiled threats of career destruction is part of any job, but from Mrs. Habsburg, it feels real. The threat of her ruining my career is thinly veiled between her pleasant smile and aristocratic behavior. As a professional, I smile back, matching that same energy.

Truth be told, I've only been running my event planning business for a year. I previously worked as an assistant for the legendary Jacques Pierre, and before he retired, he recommended me for this wedding. He never explained why I'd be a good fit for this gig. But he told the Habsburg family, "This is the best option for your daughter and the bridesmaids. End of discussion."

And just like that I netted the biggest payday of my budding career. I was trained by the best. I'm potentially the next go-to person for big events amongst certain crowds.

I remember Jacques Pierre telling me during his retirement party, "Don't fuck up, darling."

8:46 am -- Issue: The Bridesmaid

The exclusive spa area offers special amenities and privacy for VIP guests. The bride and the bridesmaids are wearing silk robes and they're being served by different employees. Everything from foot massages to manicures to facials. They'd already had their bath treatments and the area smells like fragrance.

Is it normal for the bride and bridesmaids to be getting detailed spa treatments on the morning of a wedding? Not really. But again, the storm last week made it impossible for all of them to be together. Two of the bridesmaids had just arrived last night.

"Everyone having a good time?" I ask.

They express their overwhelming agreement and nervous excitement for the day, partly fueled by the multiple rounds of espresso they'd had earlier. The women look eager for the next step of the process. As expected, if I don't offer a reminder, they'll be late.

"Great, great. Quick update, babes. Now we swap the robes for the gowns. Hair and makeup maestros are ready to work their magic at 9 o'clock sharp in the bridal suite, so we can be dazzling by 11:30. The day is only getting started."

Nicole Habsburg, the woman of the hour, encourages the gang to leave at their own pace because her facial mask is being removed and she needs moisturizing. The women getting manicures are getting final touch-ups. The women getting foot massages are the first to be able to leave.

I stand around in the back to make sure they're moving at a fast enough pace. I check my tablet and see incoming texts for things I need to handle soon.

A bridesmaid named Ling catches my eye after she stands and downs a mimosa. There's another empty glass on the table next to her. There's a frowning expression on her face and she hurries out of the spa area. Her body language suggests trouble is brewing, and when you factor in alcohol, it's a bad sign.

I send fast texts to my assistant while also following Ling out of the spa area.

"Do you have a moment?"

Ling stops and turns to me, her lips are borderline pouty and her eyes are on the brink of tears. I saw her earlier this morning and she was nothing like this.

"Yes?" she replies.

I take her inside a private sauna and close the door. Everything is dry and hasn't been used today. Ling sits on the bench and hangs her head, her silk robe opening and I can see the center of her bare chest, which she doesn't bother to cover.

"What's going on?" I ask. "Something is clearly an issue. I'd like to help."

"This is so embarrassing."

"It's okay. I'm here for you."

"After the wedding, Nicole is moving to the east coast. Forget it. It's embarrassing. You wouldn't understand."

At first I struggle to understand why this would be so heartbreaking. Best friends are supposed to cry tears of joy during a wedding, not tears of... whatever this is.

Then the subtext of the situation hits me and everything becomes clear. Ling's eyes remain looking down at her feet, the side of her robe threatening to fall off her left shoulder, which she still doesn't bother to cover.

"You and her?" I ask.

"Lovers. Well, obviously not. She's getting married. I guess you can call me the occasional fling. My parents would disown me if they knew. It's all over now."

"You'll find someone, I promise."

"There's no one like Nicole."

Ling shakes her head and then tosses her hair back. She runs her fingers through her long and dark hair, which seems like a habit she does, and it causes the left side of her silk robe to fall. Her tiny breast and dark nipple are showing. She's a rail thin woman with fair skin and seeing her big black nipple is oddly enticing.

I try doing the decent thing by reaching over to pull her robe, but when I do that, she grabs my hand and rubs it against her face. She might have thought I was making a move, or that I wanted to be affectionate with her. Alcohol will do this to a person.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Do you want to stop?"

She continues to rub my hand against her cheek. Her eyes are closed as if this gesture is somehow soothing her soul when she needs it most.

"Maybe you've had too much to drink."

"I know, I'm sorry. I had some other drinks in my hotel room."

"This is all because of your relationship with Nicole?"

"I don't usually drink. I'm a freaking advertisement executive. I work all the time."

"We'll get you some water, electrolytes, and food. You'll be perfect for the wedding."

"Can you do something else for me?"

Ling pulls my hand lower, grazing her big nipple, which is now erect, and with some hesitation she pulls even lower. She opens her robe and brings my hand to her crotch. It's obvious what she wants. She looks at me with pleading eyes and presses my hand against her skin. I can feel her labia.

I'm stunned while her eyes are filled with shame and lust. She's persistent and uncurls my fingers, pressing my palm against her.

"Ling, we shouldn't."

"It's been aching since my wet dream of Nicole last night. I need this and I'll be okay."

My hand gives a faint stroke to her labia and she quivers. She leans back against the wall and enjoys this, even though I actually hadn't agreed to do anything. I turn and look at my tablet on the bench. Messages are incoming and I'm behind schedule. I can only imagine how peeved the assistants and staff are while waiting for me. Worse, the idea of Mrs. Habsburg sending me unanswered messages or searching for me makes my skin crawl.

I curl my index finger to see if that simple gesture would solve the problem. Stroking her labia makes her breath harder, but it's the bare minimum. Ling keeps her eyes closed and her body is tense with anticipation. She wants to cum. And she wants it done with my hand.

I'm left with no choice but to touch her clitoris, which makes Ling moan and squirm. It's my first time doing anything with a woman's vagina, much less while working the biggest job of my career, but that's what it takes when every minute counts.

I touch her the way I'd touch myself but with higher intensity. The tips of my two fingers stroke her labia and then clitoris, and it's her clit which gets the most reaction so I focus on that, rubbing in fast, rhythmic circles. Ling moans and after a series of quick rubs she starts to squeal and her entire body tenses. I'm looking at her toes curling and her black nipple is so hard it could cut diamonds.

She cums in my hand. I feel her wetness and trickling fluids flow through my fingers and then she relaxes and tries to breathe normally again. I pull my hand away. Fluids are dripping and I'm careful not to get anything on my dress.

Her face blushes red, with that orgasm working a miracle of snapping her back to her senses. A moment of clarity strikes and I've never seen a woman look so mortified. It's like the alcohol in her bloodstream went out through her cum -- figuratively speaking.

"Please forgive me?" she says.

"Let's call it even if you have some water and food. Then get your hair and makeup done."

"Yes, yes, of course. Thank you for the... nevermind."

Finally she closes her robe and tucks her nipple away. She gets up and scurries out of the sauna, while I grab my tablet and head to the nearest bathroom to wash my wet hand. What I hadn't anticipated, however, was that my legs would be shaky while trying to walk and that I'd need to wipe between my thighs.

10:39 am -- Issue: The Bride

Live music is playing on the beach as the guests have arrived and things are bustling. It's a classy affair and I can sense the political posturing between the two families as they have a good time. Food is being served on trays. Mrs. Habsburg is watching me like a hawk from a near distance.

For the guests, it's all about enjoying the moment, but for me, it's when the whirlwind is reaching its climax. A million things could go wrong and it's pressure from all angles. I've been walking around in circles and touching bases with the different vendors. My nerves are growing but I'm addicted to that sensation.

I get a text from my assistant regarding the bride's outfit. A last minute snafu. That I should get there immediately 'just in case' things spiral out of control. In my years of experience dealing with weddings and events, it's often the little things that grow into big things which cause the most problems, because they're easy to ignore. I've trained my assistant to look out for these pitfalls and to notify me right away.

The clock is ticking and I get to the bridal suite right away. The door is open with people coming in and out. There's a team of hair and makeup people along with a photographer who's snapping behind-the-scenes pictures. I see the bridesmaids looking gorgeous and ready. Then I see something that rocks my world while my adrenaline is already high.

Nicole is standing topless with a slip that covers her legs and she's wearing heels. Her hair is polished and tied in a bun. Her makeup is on par with the Oscars ceremony and her jewelry is sparkling. Her arms are toned. It's common to see nipples in the bridal area, but these are Nicole's nipples, she's socialite royalty with who her parents are. Her partial nudity is so brazen given how many people are in the room. This almost looks like a Vogue photoshoot with the cameraman snapping pictures of her looking so glam.

My assistant comes to me and whispers the latest updates in my ear. Apparently a splash of red wine had struck Nicole's bra, and for those unaware, special shaped bras are required for each kind of wedding dress. There's also an issue with her panties, which the details are vague.

Nicole sees me and waves me to come over. All the while, I'm still struck by her nudity. For a socialite like Nicole to have breasts exposed is a power move. She seems empowered by displaying her tits and light brown nipples. And the people around her seem energized by these boobs, as if they bring life to the atmosphere.

She remains cool when I stand in front of her, her hands on her hips as if her breasts are a superpower, and she remains casual while people are bustling around us.

"Do you have 10 minutes to spare?" she asks.

"Sure, everything okay? You should be more dressed by now."

"I'm swapping a new bra. We're waiting on that. But there's something else."

"Yes?"

"Mind if we go into the changing room where it's more private? I heard what you did for Ling and that was incredibly thoughtful."

"Ling told you?"

"We tell each other everything. We're like sisters. Well, not exactly like sisters. You get the idea."

"I get it, but the wedding is starting soon and I'm needed at different places."

"And I need something urgent as well. Follow me."

Two hours earlier I pulled Ling into a private sauna, which resulted in fingering her, now Nicole has taken my hand and she's pulling me to the walk-in closet nearby. There's only so much adrenaline I can take in one morning. But the job is the job. Nicole is the star and I'm obliged to listen to her, which is difficult as her tits bounce with each step.

When we're in the walk-in closet, she turns to face me. It's an empty space but we can hear the conversations and hustling and pictures snapping in the bridal suite.

"I got waxed early this morning," she says. "You know, down there. The employees are terrible with their waxing technique. And I made the mistake of rushing them, so I wasn't moisturized properly. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"You must be itching."

"I'm not wearing panties yet because it stings. So, do you mind?"

"Mind what?"

"You know, there's going to be a lot of cameras recording this. I need my walk to be perfect."

Women like Nicole are figurative princesses, used to getting whatever they want. She's looking at me like it's a simple request. But then again she must be used to all sorts of sexual interactions based on what the bridesmaid had mentioned earlier.

"Have you thought about asking Ling?"

"Ling would never let me go. And she'd be a sobbing mess during the ceremony if we touched right now. Come on, we'll be super fast."

Nicole lifts her slip to reveal her runner's legs and heels. When she pulls further, her vagina is exposed. There's slight redness around the labia and I can see why she's itching, or whatever the issue seems to be. She sits down while holding her slip and she's acting like my service is a forgone conclusion.

I've already finger-banged the bridesmaid, might as well get this over with. I put my tablet on the floor and kneel in front of her, assuming the subservient role, hoping that no one comes here, though I'm sure someone eventually will. The conversations in the bridal suite gets louder, with more fervor as the wedding nears.

Her pussy is beautiful as I look up close. Her labia are like rose petals and her clitoris is erect. Ling's vagina was the first I'd ever touched and fingered, but Nicole's is the first I'm able to truly appreciate and see up close. The vaginas I usually see are from a comfortable distance in the gym showers or locker room.

"Well?" she says.

I gaze into her eyes while I'm kneeling, those light brown nipples have become erect and she's gazing back at me like I'm giving bad customer service. She's questioning me with her look.

"Sorry, what would you like me to do exactly?"

"Give me the same treatment you gave Ling earlier. She mentioned you have a magic touch and her judgment is impeccable."

She maintains the same gaze, the same expectation that I'm customer service to her. My tablet on the floor beeps from two new messages, which is a normal amount at this hour, but the stakes are much higher given the family I'm dealing with. I remind myself how much money I'm being paid and the need to uphold my growing reputation.

I press my hands on her upper-thighs and rub. Each rub, going back and forth, comes closer to her pubic mound which makes me feel like I'm crossing a line. This is the bride. Her family are my clients. I've been working closely with Nicole and her mother for the last several months in anticipation of this milestone day. Now every time I push against her soft skin, her labia opens and I see the wet pinkness of her pussy.

My palms press against the irritated skin from the botched wax job she had earlier this morning. Her body is so warm, her muscles tighten, and she even starts to moan as I press harder when soothing her skin. My thumbs graze her labia and I'll be honest in admitting that I'm aroused from doing this with someone like her. Her stature is an aphrodisiac in addition to her elegance.

In another life, I'd be interested in doing this again with her, for a longer period of time, but only if we were alone -- and no one would ever know. But for now, I'm working. Time is of the essence and I'm mindful of that.

"Getting better?" I ask.

She raises an eyebrow. "Not really?"

"One or two more minutes then. After that you'll need to get dressed. People are waiting."

"Mouth please. That should do the trick."

Her request shocks me to the core and sends a flow of energy down my spine and between my legs. My mouth? While I'm working? While people are in the suite talking and getting ready? There's no door giving us privacy. I look inside of her pussy, it's wet and ready, and I look at her eyes. She's serious about this and it's just another day for her. Another request that she often makes.

"That might be going too far. I'm okay with soothing your skin, but no mouth."

"You gave Ling an orgasm and she's not even paying you. My mother is."

There are so many things I could say right now but I hold myself back. Nicole doesn't mean to be degrading, it's the world she comes from. She's used to having everything she wants, and if I'm being honest with myself, the sight of her wet pussy between my hands is intoxicating. I feel alive in more ways than the typical rush of a wedding day.

I kiss the redness of her pubic mound and the sides of her crotch. It's the reason we're here in the open space closet, alone together, because of this itching. Clearly she wants her pussy eaten because she got the wrong idea from Ling, that I'm some sort of lesbian aficionado like they are. In reality I'm just a working professional trying to make an honest living like anyone else.

Nicole moans as I keep on kissing, her skin is so warm, so soft. Her pubic area feels like silk from this morning's wax job. I keep waiting for her to say that the kisses are enough and that it's time to get dressed, but that doesn't happen. I can smell her aromas. Her pussy is drenched and she's making these murmuring noises as she watches me.