Goddam, it hurt!
Roger had slipped and twisted while stepping off his ladder at work. The pain in his lower spine was sharp and sudden. Damn! The best he could do was stand tilted to one side – it eased the pain some, but not much. On the scale from 0 to 10, this pain was 8 or 9, for sure.
'Shit!'
His girlfriend's brother was getting married in a few hours. Roger wasn't excited about going, but he had promised.
He walked toward the pickup, listing at an angle, wincing with every step. Getting up onto the seat was agony. He sat still for several seconds, focusing his attention over and above the pain, before starting it up and driving toward his apartment. Once there, he carefully and slowly got out of the truck, still unable to stand up straight.
He lived with his girlfriend in a second floor apartment, and climbing the stairs was slow and painful. He grimaced in pain with every step.
When he entered the apartment, his girlfriend, Connie, was standing in front of the mirror brushing her hair.
"What the hell happened to you?"
"Ahhh, I missed the last step of a ladder, and twisted my back. It really hurts bad. I don't know how I'll make it through the wedding. It hurts to move and it hurts to sit in the pickup," Roger said with a wince.
"You're going to the wedding with me – even if I have to carry you!" came the stern reply. "I bought this new dress, and got my nails done, and I am not going to miss it! And I am not going by myself!"
"Geez, thanks for the sympathy," Roger answered, groaning as he cautiously tried to sit down. "Can't you go without me? I don't think I can sit through the ceremony. Standing is no better."
"Look, I know you don't want to go. You're just using this as an excuse. We are going, and that's final!" Connie's voice was stern and shrill.
She stomped to the bathroom, and came back with two pills and a glass of water. "Here, take these - it's what's left over from when the dentist pulled my tooth last month. Take them and get in the shower, we have to leave in half an hour."
Connie was not a sympathetic woman. No one would describe her as being thoughtful, either. She was, in fact, quite selfish. But, she was damned good in the sack. She was horny most of the time, and she was willing to try anything - whenever it was her idea, and suited her.
Roger swallowed the two pills, and moaned as he stood up. His lower back was killing him, and he held onto the furniture as he made his way to the kitchen, and popped open a beer. OK, he could do this, he thought. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, and the pain pills would start to kick in within just a few minutes. He swigged the beer, leaning against the door-frame, and watched Connie get dressed. She had bought a strapless, low-cut gown for the wedding. Off came her bra, and she stepped into the gown. Roger smiled as he admired her pointy, small-sized breasts. Connie was a redhead, and Roger admired the pink of her nipples. "Nice tits," he said with a smile.
"You'd better get your ass in gear if you ever expect to see these tits again," she said, struggling with the gown.
Connie's were the second set of breasts Roger had ever seen - well, other than in Playboy magazines. Connie's were pointy, with puffy, swollen pink nipples. Not like the full-breasted girls in Playboy, but, tits were tits, right?
Getting his shirt off was easy. Work boots and jeans and socks were a different matter, though. Pain grabbed him hard as he moved slowly and carefully getting them off. Eventually, he was fully undressed. His body was toned - the result of the manual labor he did - but he felt like a geriatric at the moment.
It didn't take Roger long to shave, shampoo and shower. By the time he was rinsing off, the pain medicine had begun to work its magic. As he toweled off, he was able to stand a little straighter. Putting on socks and slacks and shoes wasn't so bad. He slipped on a new shirt and tie that Connie had picked out for him [to match her gown], and they were out the door right on time.
Going down the stairs aggravated his back, and he felt sharp stabs of pain with every step. They got into Connie's Ford station wagon, with Roger as comfortable as he could manage behind the wheel. He grimaced when he extended his legs, but Connie really didn't care.
They had to drive across town and pick up her younger sister and two younger brothers, then drive 20 miles to the wedding. All went smoothly, except for Roger's pain. He didn't get out of the car at Connie's parents house, nor did he turn around to notice what anyone was wearing, hoping to avoid aggravating his back. When they got to the church, he had to slowly exit the car, while everyone else piled out quickly and practically ran into the building.
"Come on!" Connie ordered impatiently.
The medication had helped ease the pain by at least half, but Roger still moved slowly. Changing positions aggravated the pain.
Connie did look very pretty and sexy in her gown. It was green, and went well with her red hair.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," he answered with a controlled smile. Connie took his arm, and they managed to make an entrance together. Everyone was admiring his girlfriend, and that, combined with his best efforts to act as if everything was normal, resulted in no one noticing he was angled off a little to one side.
Thankfully, the church pews were padded. The service was too long, but Roger managed to find a position that was pretty comfortable for him to sit. The medicine eased the pain more completely, and he almost forgot about it - until it was time to stand up at the end of the ceremony. Roger had to use the back of the pew in front of him to pull himself to his feet. Still, it was much easier than it had been a few hours ago.
When the family were all lined up for pictures, Roger noticed that Connie's little sister was dressed in an identical gown. The color was blue, but the cut was identical. But Cathy definitely filled it out more amply than Connie did hers, even though Cathy was a few years younger.
Cathy was just a little chubby - she still had some 'baby fat' on her. Her breasts were probably twice as big as Connie's. The tops of her breasts seemed to overflow the bodice of the gown. Everytime she inhaled, they pushed upward. Roger [and probably every other guy in the room] couldn't help but notice the swells of her breasts jiggle as she moved. Cathy usually wore T-shirts or sweatshirts, and Roger hadn't really noticed her that much before. But it was impossible not to notice her this evening.
Cathy was still in the awkward late teen stage. Goofy. Clumsy. Kind of dopey. Tom-boyish. Usually in the shadow of her older sister. But in that gown, she was quite the sultry young lady.
The whole group piled into cars, and drove the few miles from the church to the VFW reception hall. There must have been 150 people there. A couple of people slapped Roger on the back when he was introduced as Connie's boyfriend. The jarring sent jolts of pain down his back, but he tried not to let on.
"Let's get something to drink," Connie insisted. Roger had never been to a reception where there was drinking or dancing, and was trying to take in the sights and sounds. He got a Scotch and water, and practically gulped the first one. Maybe that would make the pain more tolerable.
He tried one dance with Connie, but it aggravated the pain. "Listen, honey," he said. "I really can't do this." He was apologetic, but Connie didn't particularly care. She had had two drinks, and was determined to dance and show off her gown. She got lots of compliments on her appearance, and was determined to have fun.
Roger made his way to a wall, and leaned up against it. It relieved his back. He could watch people dance, and he could be somewhat comfortable. He didn't really care that Connie was out on the dance floor without him.
An hour went by, and Roger slowly sipped a second and third Scotch. Cathy came over to him, a little wobbly on her feet, and stood next to him against the wall. She asked him to dance.
"That's real nice of you, Cathy, but I can't dance very well - especially the fast dances. I hurt my back at work today."
"Awwww, you did? How awful! Is that why you haven't been dancing with Connie?"
"'Yeah," Roger answered. "Thanks for asking, though", he said with a smile.
"Would you dance with me if it we take it real easy?"Cathy asked. She turned toward him, and pressed her breasts against his arm. Roger looked down at her cleavage, and said "Sure we can give it a try."
After a few more fast songs, the band slowed the tempo, and Roger and Cathy stepped a few feet away from the wall, and danced slowly. It was mostly just holding one another and swaying side to side. It wasn't too bad. Roger hurt when he tilted a little too far, but he was managing.
Each of them noticed Connie was dancing with a big blonde guy, doing some kind of ballroom step. The guy managed to slip one hand down from the small of Connie's back to the upper part of her butt. Cathy noticed too. "He's an old boyfriend," she said, apologetically.
"Oh, well, everybody's had a few drinks, and I'm in no shape to dance out there with her, so I guess it's OK," Roger said solemnly.
"You can grab my butt if you want to," Cathy said sincerely.
"What? No!" Roger answered. "You've had too much to drink! Besides, how come you're drinking, anyway? You're not old enough."
Cathy smiled, and said, 'It's a wedding. Everybody can drink. Besides, I'm only drinking beer, not whiskey."
When the music stopped, they went back toward the wall.
"You want to try sitting down?" Cathy asked.
"Um, sure, I can try."
Cathy steadied him, aware that he still hurt. "OK, I'll go get us another round."
In a few minutes, she returned with another Scotch for Roger, a beer for herself, and a little paper cup filled with nuts. They had a nice time talking about nothing, and each of them became more intoxicated. Cathy went and got them another drink. On her way back, she was wobbly to the point that she accidentally stepped out of one of her high heeled shoes. She limped back, one shoe on, and kicking the other ahead of her.
Connie noticed, and came over to scold her sister. She noticed that Roger was noticeably tipsy. "What is wrong with you two? You're both getting drunk!"
The pair simply smiled at Connie, but each of them wanted to tell her to get lost.
"We've got to be leaving in a few. Mom said I have to take the little kids home by 9. You guys go get into the wagon, and I'll find the boys."
Neither Roger nor Cathy could walk a straight line without concentrating. As Connie followed them, with boys in tow, she noticed their impaired gait.
"I'll drive, Roger," she instructed. "The rest of you pile into the back." All did as they were told, with lots of giggles and silliness.
"Mom and dad will be absolutely furious if the find out that Cathy is drunk!" Connie hissed to herself.
The drive back to Roger's apartment was filled with foolishness. The boys farted and burped loudly, laughing hysterically - each having had one beer. Roger was more quiet, watching the road as Connie drove. Cathy was also quiet, struggling to stay awake...and not to puke.
When the car stopped, Roger got out, and Cathy opened the door and vomited. Ewwww, ewwww, ewww! Connie was disgusted.
"Dammit, Cathy! What the hell's wrong with you? Can't you hold a few beers?" No sympathy; only criticism. After a few moments of silence, she said, "OK, you're spending the night here. Mom and dad will be SO pissed if I take you home like this. Look! You got some of your puke on the gown. God dammit, Cathy! Get your ass upstairs, and get cleaned up!"
