Read Online THAT MAN 5 (The Wedding Story-Part 2) by Nelle L'Amour - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nelle L'Amour
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If I ever had to spearhead an event, I knew who was going to be my coordinator.
“And wedding girl, if that bitch Enid gives you any grief, you let me know. I’ve got plenty of dirt on her and her slutty cohort Monique.”
“Oooh, like what?” cooed Chaz, instantly cheered up by juicy gossip.
“They give each other pussy.”
My eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “No way. They’re gay?”
“Way. Gayer than eight guys blowing nine guys. Enid’s husband doesn’t know she’s a lesbo.”
Over breakfast which I treated everyone to, Jeffrey shared more titillating tidbits about Enid and Monique. Enid was a screamer and used a whip. Why should that surprise me? And Monique liked it in her bony butt. We were shrieking and howling at everything Jeffrey revealed—from their feather fetish to their lesbian video fetish. Wow! If I ever had the need to send Enid the video I shot of her daughter she might actually get off on it. I couldn’t wait to tell Blake.
*
December was here in no time. Things for the wedding were falling into place. The wedding rehearsals—and dinner following at The Bel Air Hotel—were all set up for the night before the monumental event. To my delight, Mrs. Cho’s adorable little daughters were going to be my flower girls and walk down the aisle with Marcy’s twin sons, the ring bearers. Mom and Dad were flying in that morning. And true to his word, Dad would be walking me down the aisle albeit with a cane.
Gloria Zander gave me a surprise bridal shower. Jeffrey, whose client list was growing rapidly, helped her plan it. Held at Shutters, a chic beachside hotel in Santa Monica, Libby was there along with some of my friends from USC and my rape support group. And guess who else was there—Grandma!—though Blake’s mother couldn’t make it as she was being honored at some long-standing luncheon for her philanthropic accomplishments. To my delight, Vera Nichols, Blake’s sassy Vegas manager, also attended as well as Pussy and Swell. And so did Mrs. Cho. The only person whose presence I sorely missed was my mom; she was afraid to leave Dad alone though he’d insisted she fly out. Libby, God bless her, Skyped her in, so she virtually attended. By the end of the lovely afternoon champagne tea, we were all buzzed, and as Grandma rightly said, “Bubala, you have enough sexy shmexy undies for Blakela to tear off to last a lifetime.” I was going to start that night.
Later that week, I had my final fitting for Monique’s wedding dress. I’d resigned myself to being the mermaid bride, not the princess bride. Knowing Monique and Enid were secretly having an affair, I could barely keep a straight face as the former made more alterations to my dress. The dress wasn’t perfect, but I hoped my wedding would be. Soon, I’d be floating down the aisle. With all the ups and downs I’d been through, my special day couldn’t get here soon enough.
The dress had to be taken in. I’d lost some weight from stress. I’d read on some bridal blog this was common, but Blake was worried about me. He felt between the wedding and my work, I was taking on more than I could chew. He was right, but that’s just the way I was. I couldn’t wait for our honeymoon—which Blake had planned all on his own. He was mum on the destination. I couldn’t suck—or fuck—it out of him. All I knew was it some place neither of us had ever been.
There was one other problem—Bradley. Ever since that restaurant incident, he’d e-mailed me constantly. I refused to open his e-mails and simply put them in my trash file and then deleted them permanently. I wanted nothing to do with him, and I never wanted to see him again. I didn’t tell Blake about the e-mails. For all intents and purposes, Bradley Wick, DDS, was dead to me.
On the Tuesday of the week before my wedding, I had my last support group meeting of the year. I wasn’t feeling well. All day long, I’d been experiencing cramping. For sure, stress. Blake
“And wedding girl, if that bitch Enid gives you any grief, you let me know. I’ve got plenty of dirt on her and her slutty cohort Monique.”
“Oooh, like what?” cooed Chaz, instantly cheered up by juicy gossip.
“They give each other pussy.”
My eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “No way. They’re gay?”
“Way. Gayer than eight guys blowing nine guys. Enid’s husband doesn’t know she’s a lesbo.”
Over breakfast which I treated everyone to, Jeffrey shared more titillating tidbits about Enid and Monique. Enid was a screamer and used a whip. Why should that surprise me? And Monique liked it in her bony butt. We were shrieking and howling at everything Jeffrey revealed—from their feather fetish to their lesbian video fetish. Wow! If I ever had the need to send Enid the video I shot of her daughter she might actually get off on it. I couldn’t wait to tell Blake.
*
December was here in no time. Things for the wedding were falling into place. The wedding rehearsals—and dinner following at The Bel Air Hotel—were all set up for the night before the monumental event. To my delight, Mrs. Cho’s adorable little daughters were going to be my flower girls and walk down the aisle with Marcy’s twin sons, the ring bearers. Mom and Dad were flying in that morning. And true to his word, Dad would be walking me down the aisle albeit with a cane.
Gloria Zander gave me a surprise bridal shower. Jeffrey, whose client list was growing rapidly, helped her plan it. Held at Shutters, a chic beachside hotel in Santa Monica, Libby was there along with some of my friends from USC and my rape support group. And guess who else was there—Grandma!—though Blake’s mother couldn’t make it as she was being honored at some long-standing luncheon for her philanthropic accomplishments. To my delight, Vera Nichols, Blake’s sassy Vegas manager, also attended as well as Pussy and Swell. And so did Mrs. Cho. The only person whose presence I sorely missed was my mom; she was afraid to leave Dad alone though he’d insisted she fly out. Libby, God bless her, Skyped her in, so she virtually attended. By the end of the lovely afternoon champagne tea, we were all buzzed, and as Grandma rightly said, “Bubala, you have enough sexy shmexy undies for Blakela to tear off to last a lifetime.” I was going to start that night.
Later that week, I had my final fitting for Monique’s wedding dress. I’d resigned myself to being the mermaid bride, not the princess bride. Knowing Monique and Enid were secretly having an affair, I could barely keep a straight face as the former made more alterations to my dress. The dress wasn’t perfect, but I hoped my wedding would be. Soon, I’d be floating down the aisle. With all the ups and downs I’d been through, my special day couldn’t get here soon enough.
The dress had to be taken in. I’d lost some weight from stress. I’d read on some bridal blog this was common, but Blake was worried about me. He felt between the wedding and my work, I was taking on more than I could chew. He was right, but that’s just the way I was. I couldn’t wait for our honeymoon—which Blake had planned all on his own. He was mum on the destination. I couldn’t suck—or fuck—it out of him. All I knew was it some place neither of us had ever been.
There was one other problem—Bradley. Ever since that restaurant incident, he’d e-mailed me constantly. I refused to open his e-mails and simply put them in my trash file and then deleted them permanently. I wanted nothing to do with him, and I never wanted to see him again. I didn’t tell Blake about the e-mails. For all intents and purposes, Bradley Wick, DDS, was dead to me.
On the Tuesday of the week before my wedding, I had my last support group meeting of the year. I wasn’t feeling well. All day long, I’d been experiencing cramping. For sure, stress. Blake
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