My shoes were hurting. My back was cramping. My legs were exhausted. My head ached. And I couldn't breathe. My wedding corset? Had been great when we got married and then immediately retired to the limo to screw our brains out.
When you have to stand around at a reception afterwards, smiling and nodding at a bunch of people whose names have passed you like ships in the night? Not ideal.
Pretty much the opposite of the ideal. The Platonic ideal of un-ideal.
Haha, I thought to myself. I'm so clever. I needed air.
I needed to sit down. And I needed to not be listening to this old guy with the inscrutable accent talk about hedge funds. Or was he talking about actual hedges? I couldn't even tell. Or was that care? I couldn't even care? Yeah. That was probably it.
With great effort, I drew a breath. The stays of my corset creaked as I struggled to suck air into my lungs, but in the end, they held and I had to content myself with taking a light-headed gulp of champagne and smiling politely.
"Felicia!" My mother bustled up to me and grabbed my arm. "Have you met Mr and Mrs Mordon from the Mordon Foundational Trust? I'm sorry, Mr Steinbeck, but I simply must steal my daughter for a moment."
Out of the frying pan and into the suicidally boring fire, as they say. I gave Mr Steinbeck an apologetic smile as my mother herded me off to meet yet another rich person I couldn't care less about. She, of course, was in heaven, so I couldn't very well throw myself on the floor and have a screaming tantrum as I used to when I was four, but the urge was still very much there. All my friends were busy hobnobbing and trying to suck up to all the rich potential patrons of the arts, Sadie was off somewhere making sure things ran smoothly, and my husband was nowhere to be found. There was no one to rescue me. I could use a sledgehammer right about now. Smash up the bar, perhaps. Or one of the ice sculptures, even though each of them was a replica of one of my works.
It was a nice touch. Sadie outdid herself. But a girl's got her limits, and I was fast approaching mine.
My mother's hand on my arm propelled me toward a couple in their fifties, laughing about something with another bland couple in their fifties, and I wanted to shoot myself. When I'd envisioned my wedding reception when I was slightly younger, I'd always imagined something like an Irish wake, but without the dead body. Or hell, bring a dead body. As long as it wasn't anyone I had known.
"Mr and Mrs Mordon!" my mother called. "Let me introduce you to my daughter..."
One-half of the couples turned toward me, all smiles, and I smiled back automatically. Mr Mordon, a pleasant man who looked like he'd eaten one too many Valium, held out his hand, and I automatically put my white-gloved fingers in his.
"A pleasure," he said, bringing my hand to his lips. My god. What century was this?
But the second his mouth pressed to my fingertips, a jolt of electricity shot through me.
I gasped and staggered, the vibrator in my pussy suddenly roaring to life.
My knees turned to jelly and I couldn't get enough air. I was going to faint— A strong arm circled my shoulders, and I sighed with relief.
"Pardon me," Anton said to the startled group, "but I must borrow my wife for a moment." He guided me away, the vibrator ratcheting up in intensity.
"It'd better be longer than a moment," I muttered to him under my breath, and he laughed at me as he gently pointed me through a door onto the balcony. It was cold out here, but there were still fellow revellers. To my immense satisfaction, they all took notice of us and discreetly dispersed, leaving us alone on the small side terrace.
I sagged into Anton, and he put his arms around me as I moaned. "Jesus," I panted. "You know how to keep a girl waiting."
"Well, several business associates are here," he said. "I find it a bit crass to mix business and pleasure."
"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "Is that it?"
He had the good grace to cough as he produced the vibrator's remote and began adjusting the strength of it until it pulsed in my slick, tight passage and I started to tremble. "Perhaps that is not entirely it," he said, though I could hardly hear him over the sound of my heart in my ears. "I'm starting to want to be the only one to see your face as you come."
I would have laughed at that, but I was too busy trying to stay conscious. The corset was so tight I thought I could feel my ribs cracking as he drove me higher and higher. My fingers tangled in his fine tuxedo jacket and I clung to him for dear life. The slender, beautiful wedding dress I wore was too narrow, and I had to reach down to hike it up over my hips so I could hook my leg over Anton's. In sexual agony, I rubbed my clit over his hard thigh, the little vibe in my cunt buzzing me straight to heaven. He stood stock-still and watched me with satisfaction as I moaned and ground against him.
"Guys?" The sound of the door opening cut through my pleasure, but I was too far gone to stop. "We're about to do the toasts, so if you could—good shitting God, you two, wait till you're on the honeymoon!"
In a haze, I turned my head to see Sadie, her cheeks flame red, retreating
with her hands over her eyes. "Hurry up out here!" she commanded. "There's only so much alcohol in the world and these rich fucks are going to drink it all if you don't wrap it up!"
"No... no problem!" I called to her, breathlessly, and then Anton reached up and pinched one nipple through the satin of my wedding dress, and I came for him. He held me tight and I felt him smile against my temple as Sadie ran back inside.
"I... I thought you wanted to be the only one to see my face..." I panted as I came down from the high.
He smiled at me, almost insolent. "I said starting." I poked him in the shoulder and he laughed. "Come, my dear. Our audience awaits."
"Was that double entendre intentional?" I demanded. "I'm not sure I want to come with my mom watching."
He laughed again. "Maybe. Do you trust me?" I answered without hesitation. "Yes."
He held out his arm. "Then allow me, Mrs Waters."
The little vibe's buzzing subsided, but not entirely. I sighed at him, exasperated. "With pleasure, Mr Waters," I said, placing my hand on his arm.
"I know," he said, and together we walked back to our wedding, side by side.