During the months of planning my beautiful, organized wedding, I could obviously tell that Duncan wasn't participating enough. I mean, I was getting married to him — the least he could do was get off his lazy ass and help me plan this wedding.
But then, in the midst of it all, he suddenly got all … cooperative. For the lack of better word, he seemed strangely excited all of a sudden.
If I woke him up so early in the morning — time management is the key to planning — he would act like such a cranky baboon, but he would actually get up, get ready, and do what he had to do. If my mom, his mom, and I were discussing the décor and I'd ask him for his preferences, he wouldn't say some snarky remark. He would help us, albeit his poor decorating skills (I wouldn't want skulls in my wedding).
If you guys are assuming it's his wretched bachelor party, well, you're wrong there. Somewhat.
Okay, he was incredibly psyched for his bachelor party — that damn perverted Neanderthal — and I knew he had the time of his life. Geoff wasn't quite discreet with his words, and he never was. Bridgette had called me up at my old bedroom in my parents' house — yes, I am one for traditions — venting about the boys' little "escapades." I couldn't decipher her words right, because she went on and on. The only words I could make out were "bananas," "condoms," "fat prostitutes," and "frogs."
And with that, I thought "Screw traditions" and drove right over to Duncan's hotel room. (I didn't understand why he couldn't just stay at his parents' home, but he wanted to spend his last bachelor day with the "men." Idiot.) I marched right up to his hotel room and banged on the door hard.
Let's just say I was kicked out of that hotel for a few months or so.
But whatever. I didn't care. I was getting married to the idiot that I had fallen in love with. Yes, that day I was an entirely different Courtney. I threw away my morals. I put my goody-goody, uptight self to the side for the last moments I was a bachelorette.
I bet all of you are wondering what I did on my bachelorette party. Well, I specifically requested Bridgette to let me do the honors of planning it. It was my bachelorette party, not hers or anyone else's. I refused to associate in a party that was in their doing. They would most likely hire a bunch of half-naked, speedo-donning men shaking their assets in my face. And their gift to me would be a belt and a feather.
Which did happen during my bachelorette party.
But once this obscene man started smashing my face with his ghastly butt, I kicked him at the place where the sun would never, ever shine. I threw the belt on his face, grinning widely once I saw that the metallic part smacked his eye. Afterwards, I shoved the feather in his mouth. I headed straight up to my room and began reading.
It was a wonderful bachelorette party. I told you I threw my morals away.
Back to the main point of this. Excuse me for digressing so much.
Soon, it was my wedding day. It was the happiest day of my life. I looked so beautiful. The décor was amazing. I didn't cry, and if I did, I made sure my mascara was water-proof or else I would look like those old men with the long tongues. Everyone was dressed as they should be. It was perfect.
But Duncan came late.
You would think I would cry and immediately assume that he left me at the altar. But no. I trusted him with all my might. So, instead of bawling and becoming such a drama queen in a soap opera, I ordered everyone to call him. The idiot would be receiving a hundred calls at the same time. Serves the mongrel right.
I was known for my inane assumptions. He wasn't late. He was here all along. He was just nervous, which made me want to hug him even though I wasn't much of a hugger. Geoff was trying to reassure him that everything would be all right. He even told me that Duncan was so nervous he had to punch someone in the face (which was Geoff; he sported bruise on his arm) and carved everything in his room. He finally came, though, and when he did, he took my hand and squeezed it tightly. He even said "Fuck traditions" and kissed me deeply, apologizing for being a pussy.
We said our vows. We kissed again (He literally didn't want to let me go; I had to punch him and threaten that I wouldn't have sex with him after all the events. He pulled away quickly). They clapped, the ambience roaring with such great joy. The worse part at that time was that I cried. A little only!
The wedding reception was magnificent. Again, the décor was mesmerizingly magnificent. The evergreen colors blended with the cream, creating a peaceful environment. He liked green; I liked green. It was a simple decision. Our wedding cake was specially, extravagantly made by DJ, a fantastic patisserie and cook. (He left France just to come and lead the catering for our wedding.) We cut the cake together, flashes of pictures coming our way nonstop. I elegantly fed him while he all but shoved a huge piece in my mouth. I felt cream all over my lips to which he happily indulged on. He literally couldn't keep his hands off of me.
Are you guys getting bored? Well, fine. I'll skip to the present time.
The wedding reception is still going on. Duncan's arm never leaves my waist. We are both busy mingling. All of a sudden, Geoff approaches us, wearing a sly grin. My eyebrows furrow, and I look at Duncan, who was sporting the same expression.
"What's going on?" I ask, an uneasy feeling underlying my tone.
Duncan faces me and smirks. His hand strokes my waist affectionately … and temptingly. I love my dress, but I hate the fact that the material is thin.
"You do know how wedding receptions go, don't you, Princess?" he inquires.
I scoff, feeling offended. My knowledge concerning everything and anything about weddings is impeccable. "Of course I do! The bride and groom cut the cake. There's a lot of slow dancing, the best one being the father-daughter dance." I inwardly cringe, remembering how awkward Daddy was while I danced with him. "The best man's and maid of honor's speeches aren't to be missed. Oh! And before we leave, I have to throw my bouquet, facing away from the bridesmaids." I smile smugly.
Geoff's grin widens, as well as Duncan's. "Babe, you're missing one crucial event."
"What, the honeymoon?"
"Oh, who can forget that?" He regards Geoff. They knuckle punch. Boys and their idiocies.
I place my hand on my hip, growing impatient. "Then what is it?" I demand.
Abruptly, a lusty cloud comes over Duncan's teals. He turns his body to me, large hands on either side of my waist. I don't know what he's going to do to me, but for some reason, I don't care. Okay, I do, but that's because we're surrounded by our friends and families.
His hand travels down to my thigh. I gasp and smack his hand.
"Resistance is futile, Duncan! Save your manhandling for later!" I blush at what I just said. Yes, I'm also excited for the honeymoon. Don't judge me.
And then —
"May I please have the newlywed bride to the front of the stage, please?" Bridgette announces in the microphone.
I look over Duncan's shoulder and see a lone chair in the center of the stage. I notice a lot of people are donning the sly expressions. What's going on? I spot my mom smiling at me and my dad glaring at Duncan.
I glare at him, too. "What'd you do?" I snap.
His smirk doesn't waver. "You'll find out." He winks at me.
He pushes me to the front along with Geoff. I try fighting back, because something humiliating might happen. He wouldn't dare do anything to me on our wedding night! This is bigoted!
"I do not concede!" I yell as they dump me on the chair. Someone ties me around the chair around my arms. "I do not concede! What the hell are you freaks doing to me?"
"Just quiet your pretty mouth, sweetheart." I wince when he finishes tying me up and tightens it. He pecks me on the cheek. "And enjoy."
The light around the room dims. There's a spotlight on me and Duncan. Where did Geoff go? It seems as if it's the two of us only.
Duncan walks in front of me. He kneels down and places his hands on my knees. With every action he does his teal eyes never once stray away from mine. His hands slide down, down, down until he reaches the hem of my silky dress. The lust appears once again. What the hell — ?
OH DEAR LORD.
His warm hands go under my dress, journeying up my bare legs. Al though his hands radiate warmth, I shiver at his gentle, tantalizing touch. They keep going up and up and up. Soon, he's precariously approaching an intense field of intimacy.
I break out of my trance. "What are you doing in front of everyone?" I whisper frantically.
Duncan flashes me a wide grin. "Just followin' tradition," he whispers back enticingly.
I notice his hand is on a material that's around my inner thigh. While I was getting into my dress, I failed to notice this strange accessory. His hand slides it down, fingers stroking my bare flesh so, so softly. He's turning me into a susceptible woman in public. Damn him. He hikes my dress all the way until my thighs are exposed.
While sliding the material down, he leans forward and begins kissing my thighs. His lips follow the garment. He does this so gradually. His lips stay on my bare skin for a very, very long time. He still stares straight through my eyes. So swiftly he pulls it down, and I see that the garment is a wedding garter.
When the hell did I put that on? Who the hell put that on? Whose garter is this?
"You sick buffoon," I murmur.
He stands up, leans down, and kisses me hard.
Yup. I am so ready for the honeymoon.
I just have to find out who put that garter on me.