When my friend Tracy asked me to be a groomsman in her wedding I said sure. What else could I say? Tracy and I had dated briefly our freshman year, but we both knew right away it wasn’t going to work & instead we became close friends. She met Dave our senior year and now, three years later, they were getting hitched. Dave was a good guy and I liked him, but it still felt a bit weird.
It was a three-hour drive to the town Tracy grew up in, and during the drive I found that I was looking forward to the whole thing. I’d been dumped a month before and I figured that a number of Tracy’s cute friends would be in attendance. And there I would be, gorgeous in a tux and oh-so-available. I had a hotel room all to myself for the weekend, and a box of condoms in my shaving bag. Yowza.
I pulled into the driveway to Tracy’s old house at 9 p.m., giving me an hour to clean up and dress. And then I remembered Tracy’s mom, who I had met four or five times while we were in school. Mrs. Moore was a really nice lady, kind and motherly. Cute too, I remembered. She was blonde like Tracy and a little plump, with big soft breasts and wide hips, very Mother Earth. But she was now also divorced. Last year Mr. Moore had abruptly announced that he was leaving her for a younger women he had met through work, and Tracy said it had been very hard on her mom.
What promised to make it harder was the fact that he and his new wife would be at the wedding. Tracy had invited him, but forbidden him to bring “the other woman”. He retorted that if she couldn’t go, he wouldn’t either, and he also wouldn’t pay a dime for the wedding. It could have turned into an ugly scene, but Tracy’s mom had intervened and told Tracy to invite them both, it was OK with her. It was a classy thing to do, but it had to be really hard on her. I was worried that when I saw Mrs. Moore she wouldn’t be the same person I remembered.
I knocked and entered and said hello to everyone and hugged and shook hands as appropriate. Tracy looked fantastic and I told her so and her friend Lisa looked double fantastic and I said something witty and Dave looked nervous and I told him to breathe through his nose. I was there 15 minutes before I realized I hadn’t seen Tracy’s mom. I asked where she was and I was told the kitchen, drinking coffee and talking to some relative. I figured I should say hello.
The woman I saw leaning against the counter was Mrs. Moore, no doubt about it. But before I had always seen her as a mother, someone who baked cookies and drove in car pools. She wore big sweaters and heavy flannel skirts and looked all protective and warm. The woman I saw was not like that. She’d lost weight, not enough to make her skinny, but to change her from plump to curvy. Her blonde hair had always been long and straight, but now it was cut to the shoulders and had a little curl to it. And she was wearing a black skirt cut just above the knee, a white ribbed top that was just tight enough to show off her breasts, and a green printed vest. She looked sharp and sexy and I was caught totally off guard. She saw me and smiled and came over to hug me and say hello, and when she pulled away I said, “Wow, you look like a million bucks.”
She did a little spin to show herself off. “Tracy picked this out for me. I had to buy her an outfit just like it, mind you, so I think I got suckered. But it’s pretty nice, I guess. Comfortable.”
I was a bit uncomfortable, myself. She looked damn good, and I grinned to myself as I pictured Tracy’s reaction to me scoping out her mom. She’d freak. But Lisa was out in the other room and from what Tracy told me she liked to do things that you normally have to go to Bangkok to enjoy, so I said my goodbyes and went back to the living room.
Well, whatever I was selling Lisa wasn’t buying, ’cause I got nowhere. The time came for us to go to the church for the rehearsal, and Mr. Moore was gonna be there. We filed in and they were already there, Mr. Moore in a sportcoat and jeans and his wife in a white suit that was cut way low in front and way high in back. She had big blonde hair and big fake tits and long fake nails and I guess was sexy and hot in a big, fake way. Then I saw Mrs. Moore, with her soft bosom and her warm thighs and to my eyes there was no comparison. I was hard in my pants and I said to myself, “Down boy, this is getting a bit out of hand.”
A point of protocol came to mind and I sidled up next to Tracy. “Uh, Trace, what should I call your Mom? Is she using her maiden name, or Moore, or what?”
Tracy, being Tracy, grabbed her mom’s arm and said, “Mom, Rob wants to know what he should call you.”
She laughed and said, “Just call me Diane and I’ll be happy.” She came up close next to me and said, “If you call me Mrs. Moore you might start an argument.”
“I’d be on your side for that one.”
“Well, she can have it. What do you think of her? Is she as gorgeous as everyone seems to think?” For the first time her voice betrayed some hurt, some anger, and her blue eyes sparkled with anger. Dammit, Ankara Escort I had to stop looking at her eyes!
“She is really hot, for a cyborg,” I said, and it took Diane a second to get the joke and start laughing. “I mean, you have to take it in for an oil change every 3000 miles and have the tits rotated, but other than that, yeah, she’s OK.”
Diane was getting stares now, she was laughing so hard. “Remind me to stay away from you during the ceremony. I can’t be cackling like a maniac during the vows.” I was glad that I made her laugh, made her smile at me, her lips parted…knock it off! It was like I had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, arguing about my sudden desire to fuck the brains out of Tracy’s mother. This had to stop before I made an ass out of myself.
The priest called us to order and put us through our paces. My job was easy as pie–escort Lisa up the aisle, sit down, escort Lisa out of the church. During practice Lisa held my arm like it was covered with shit. I had the feeling that she had the hots for Dave’s brother Dan, who was 6’5” and built like a lumberjack. Oh well, that left me free to…what?
We finished and headed to a local restaurant for dinner. There was an open bar, thank God, and I quickly polished off a pair of Buds, hoping this would quench my thirst for Diane. Yeah, right. I had a hard-on like a chisel and I wanted to taste her nipples. This was getting silly, I thought, but it was fun, chatting with Diane and telling her jokes and making her laugh. She made the rounds to everyone and so did I, but I kept trying to work my way back to her, to look at her breasts and her ass and her legs and…
And then Mr. Moore sidled up to where Dave and I were talking and shook my hand and then Dave’s. He was a little pickled, as all of us were by then. “I’m really glad my daughter picked you, I think you two will be as happy together as Vicki and I am.” I don’t know if it was deliberate or not, but he said that when Diane was standing just behind him. She heard him, and I saw her eyes sparkle again, hurt and angry, and she saw me looking at her just before she turned and walked toward the rest rooms.
I waited five minutes for her to come out before I went looking for her. I found her in an empty dining room, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. “Oh, shit,” she said when she saw me. “Thought I got away without anyone seeing me.”
“Are you OK?” I asked.
“Yeah, yeah, I am. It just hurt, you know? I don’t want him back. At first I did, but I don’t know. I’m not jealous. It just makes me feel, I don’t know. Worthless. Like no one would want me anymore. I know that isn’t true, but still…”
“That definitely isn’t true,” I said, voices in my head telling me to take her in my arms and kiss her, other voices saying to shut up and be supportive and get the hell out of there before I got slapped.
“Thanks, ” She looked up at me and smiled, back in control again. “How did Tracy let you get away from her?”
“She’s stupid. No offense.”
She laughed and slapped my arm with the napkin, and then she drew close to me and put her palm on my cheek and pulled me down and kissed me on the other cheek. “Thanks, really,” she said, and she was so close and smelled so good and I had to fight every hormone in my body to keep from leaning closer and kissing her on the lips. I smiled down at her and we walked back to our dining room.
“Oops, go to the bathroom,” Diane said. “I left lipstick on your cheek. I don’t want everyone thinking I was robbing the cradle like Richard!”
“Oh, right,” I said, disappointed. What was wrong with robbing the cradle, I wanted to ask. As if fucking your old girlfriend’s mom was normal. I had always liked her, thought she was attractive, but now I was on fire for her. I wanted my dick inside her more than anything in the world. I went in the bathroom and ran water and rubbed the pink lip prints from my cheek and wished the marks were all over my body.
The party broke up and I headed to the hotel. I went straight to bed and toyed with the idea of jacking off. No, I decided. I wanted to keep my lust at full flame, just in case something did happen. With Diane or anyone else. No, with Diane.
The big day arrived. We all met at Dan’s house at 8AM and got things started. First, a round of golf, with many beers consumed along the way. I shot a 44 on the front 9 and a 58 on the back. Had a blast. Then back to the house for a light lunch and a shower. Then we got dressed. I put my tux on and I looked sharp. I mean, killer. I’m a pretty good looking guy, not movie-star handsome but I get by, and I looked damn good. Yessir. Uh-huh.
Dave looked good too, except that he was green. Nervous as hell. Pacing back and forth. At one point he grabbed me and steered me into the kitchen.
“Tell me you didn’t fuck Tracy. She said you two never did, but I want to hear it from you,”
It was a bit late for this crazy jealousy shit, but I’ve haven’t been in his shoes yet, so I cut him some slack. Ankara Escort Bayan “Dave, I never slept with her. Never saw her naked. Never got past first base. On my honor,” I said, holding up my Molson, “I never touched her.”
Dave hugged me and we tapped bottles and drank. I didn’t think now was a good time to tell him about Glen and Jim and Helmut and those two guys she told me she met in Aruba…nah. We finished getting dressed and headed for the church. Showtime!
We were early of course and most everyone in the wedding party was there already. Except Diane. It wasn’t near time for the ceremony to start, but I found myself checking my watch every 10 seconds and looking for her to show up. Rachel, another of the bridesmaids, told me that Diane had been last in getting her hair done, and that she was just about dressed when they left. “Wait till you see her, wow!” Rachel said. “Just you wait.”
I didn’t have to wait long. I saw Diane’s Acura pulling into the parking lot, and I made my way through the crowd on the steps to get a better look. She stepped out of the car, and, wow. Wow. Her hair was parted on the side and had a long wave through it, very 1920’s looking. She was roses, from head to toe. Her dress was a dusky rose, with rose blossom buttons down the front. Her lipstick was a darker shade of the same color, and her nails were painted the same. She was an angel. And when she saw me walking toward her, and saw my expression, she blossomed with a smile that let loose the butterflies in my belly.
“Diane, you look beautiful. Just…beautiful.”
Her smile grew broader and she didn’t say anything at first. Then she said, “Thanks,” and she giggled. I offered my arm and said, “If anyone else tries escorting you to your seat they’re gonna get hurt.” I led her through the crowd and listened to the oohs and ahhs as she walked past. Mr. Moore saw her and his perpetual smile winked out. Vicki was wearing a yellow suit with wide lapels and a deep cleavage and she looked like a dandelion compared to my rose. My rose? Had to get my head on straight.
Or did I? When it came time to seat her Diane made her way over to my side and took my arm. “Don’t want a fight before my little girl’s wedding!” I led her down the aisle smiling like an idiot as the videographer focused in on us. Just as we passed by she said, “I’ll bet we’re the second best-looking couple in the church.”
“Second? I’ll want a recount.” We got the her seat and before I seated her she kissed me on the cheek. I almost floated back down the aisle. “Shit,” Dan said, “you got a kiss. When I took Vicki down the aisle she looked at me like I was a cockroach. Guess you need megabucks to keep a trophy like that. How long till he gets tired of her?”
“Maybe a year. Maybe. And I used to think he was a smart guy, too.”
“He definitely traded down,” Dan said, “Oh, excuse me,” he said, and left me to walk over to Lisa. The look she gave him could only be described as “hungry”. Unless he was a eunuch he was going to have her long legs wrapped around his waist tonight. Fine by me. I had my sights set on tastier prey.
The ceremony was lovely and Tracy looked lovely and blah blah blah. The reception was where the fun began. We had our pictures taken on the first tee of the country club where the reception was held and then we went inside for dinner. And drinks. The booze was flowing. Dinner was good but the champagne was better, and I know I drank four glasses before we even started dancing. And dance we did. I danced with Lisa and Rachel and this girl Tina I met and then Tracy. But not Diane, not yet. She didn’t dance at first, making the rounds, saying hello to everyone, but when the first slow song for the evening came on she joined us on the dance floor, her partner an elderly gent I later found out was Tracy’s great-uncle. I was dancing with Lisa who couldn’t wait to split away from me and dance with Dan. She did, and Rachel got grabbed up by the uncle. Leaving Diane alone for me. When I took her in my arms my penis was a thing alive and I had to fight the urge to grab her ass and pull her tight against my groin. But I managed to maintain my respectful 6 inches of separation as we danced.
“You dance divinely,” Diane said. “Must be the champagne.”
“Hey, this is a dancing fool you have here. Give me another glass of champagne and I’ll dip you like a champ.”
“Ooh, do you walk the walk, or just talk the talk?” The song was ending and I gave her a quick half-spin and hooked my leg behind her and whoosh!. A movie-ready dip, took her all the way down to the floor and lifted her up effortlessly as a feather. She came up laughing and said, “Drink more champagne! And save me another dance!”
I would have saved them all, but no luck. Diane was still chatting away, coming on the dance floor for the chicken dance and then flitting away. I was terribly horny and frustrated, but I kept up with the champagne and managed to still have a blast. I had just finished dancing with some 14-year old girl Escort Ankara when a slow song came on. I looked around for Diane, and when I felt a tap on my shoulder and I spun around expecting to see her. Instead it was Vicki, all lipstick and fake tan, her enormous silicone breasts sitting high and perfect inside her suit. Her eyes were glassy and she wrapped her arms around my neck and she said, “I want you to dip me like you did her. Diane. I want you to do that.”
I took her arms from around my neck and held them in the proper position. “The key is knowing how your partner moves. You get a little rhythm going, yes, that’s right, rock back, and forward, and then, when the music moves to a pause, you…” I dipped her, not as far or as smoothly as I did Diane, mostly because Vicki’s back stayed perfectly straight and it looked like I was raising an ironing board when she came up. She laughed but it seemed forced, and when I dipped her again she came up and said, “Wow, that gets your head spinning.” She disengaged from me and walked away without even thanking me for the dance. Jesus.
I headed for the bar for a drink when I noticed Diane. Her eyes met mine, and there was something in them I hadn’t seen before. Could it be jealously? She had a glass of champagne in her hand and when she saw me smile at her she smiled back and downed the champagne. At the bar I asked for two glasses and walked the long way around the tables and came up behind her. The butterflies were fluttering now, because now something was going to happen. I mean, I was going to make something happen. What, I didn’t know yet, but something.
“Champagne?” I asked, and she took it, and drank it, fast. Then she said, “OK, let’s dance.” It was a slow song again and again we didn’t get too close. Then she leaned forward to speak into my ear. “Don’t dance with her again. OK? I don’t want you to dance with her.”
She looked straight up at me and repeated herself. “Don’t dance with her again.” And that was it. We danced through half of the song and then we switched partners with a couple dancing next to us. Vicki was dancing with Richard and I decided I’d honor Diane’s request. I didn’t know why she was so insistent. Jealousy? Well, that was an interesting possibility, but when Diane stayed with other partners for the next half-dozen songs I figured that she was just pissed at Vicki and didn’t want anyone associating with her.
It got hot out on the dance floor, even with my tux jacket off. Too many fast songs in a row and I was sweating. There was an outdoor patio behind the head table and I pushed through the doors and breathed in the cool air. It was a nice night and the moon was out and it was all very romantic, except that I was out there alone.
But not for long. The door opened behind me and out came Rachel and her boyfriend and Dan’s friends Steve and Carl and two girls. And then I saw Diane was with them too, and she looked at me as though she had been looking for me. I was getting overexcited, I was becoming consumed with the need to touch her, run my hands all over her body. Too much wine, too much Diane. I either wanted to be alone with her or have her go away.
“Ahh…” Rachel said. “That feels good. Too hot in there.”
“That’s why I’m out here,” I said. “I needed to recharge the batteries before I went back for the last few dances. Don’t wanna collapse out there. Bit of a faux pas.”
Diane laughed. “You’re a nut,” she said and took a seat next to mine. Rachel rummaged around in a small clutch purse she’d brought out and pulled out a cigarette. “Don’t tell my mom I smoke, OK?” she said to Diane. “I only smoke when I drink.”
“I won’t tell if you give me one,” Diane said.
“Tsk,” I said. “You quit years ago.”
“My little girl just got herself married off, so I should be allowed a few liberties.” Rachel gave her a light, and watching Diane’s lips pull on the cigarette and blow the smoke up into the night just about got me popping out of my zipper.
“Hey, did you see Dan and Lisa out here?” Rachel asked me. “They came out here just before you did.”
“Nope. I didn’t see anyone out here.”
“She’s been waiting for a chance to jump him all night, I thought they might be out here. Maybe they went down the pond.”
There was a pond that bordered the first tee, and we all decided to take a quick stroll down there and see if they were down there. No sign of them. The others decided to head back, but Diane wanted to see the first tee, because she’d heard that it was a pretty impressive par-4.
“I didn’t know you played golf,” I said.
“Oh, for years and years,” she said. “I break 100 most days.”
“Better than me,” I said. No one else seemed to want to go, so I told Diane I would escort her to and from the tee. It was only another 30 yards, behind a fence and some trees. She also wanted to finish her cigarette before her daughter saw her, so we took our time.
We heard it first, a low groan. She stopped and I almost bumped in to her. “Did you hear that?” she said. I was about to say no, when I heard it again, a definite groan. Or moan. “It’s from over there,” she said, and she suddenly grabbed my hand and said, “Be quiet!” and led me behind her, sneaking around the fence and then behind a big oak tree.