Page 69 of Meet Stan

“Why would I give her issues?”

“Concentrate on staying pretty? That’s like ten years of therapy right there, in and of itself.”

The curtain flap parted. “The groom is almost to his end of the bridge.”

I nodded to the wedding planner. “I’m all set.”

“No you’re not,” Isabelle said, handing me my bouquet of red and yellow peonies. “Now you’re ready.”

“Not quite, the veil,” my mother blurted. “She needs her veil.”

“Yeah, because Stan totally doesn’t know what I look like.”

Mom glared at me, and I sighed. “Okay, Okay.”

I thought my dress looked better sans a veil, but my mother was a stickler for tradition. So, the veil went over my expertly braided hair.

I stepped out of the tent and found my father waiting for me. He looked me up and down and sighed.

“You look as beautiful as your mother did on our wedding day.”

“Dad, don’t be a sap,” I said.

My smile belied my words. He took me down the aisle, and then left me at my side of the bridge.

We met in the middle. I think I couldn’t stop laughing through the whole ceremony. Stan and I just stared into each other’s eyes, unable to deal with the fact we felt so self-conscious. After all the planning, and decorations and timing, it all seemed downright silly.

I was looking forward to what came after the wedding, if you catch my drift.

Stan lifted my veil and pressed his lips on top of my own. It was a sweet kiss, but it got my motor running nonetheless. I couldn’t wait to get him back to our hotel room and get him all to myself.

We walked out as husband and wife, into a waiting limo which took us to the reception. My mother cried a little, and so did my father when we danced. One of the office girls caught the bouquet, which set off all sorts of new rounds of speculation.

At last, Stan and I left the reception hall, the cool night air enveloping us.

“Oh thank god,” I said, as we climbed into the back of the limo. I got out of my heels and gasped, rubbing my feet. “That’s so much better.”

“Yes, it was quite the reception, wasn’t it?”

“You’re telling me. I don’t think I’ve ever danced so much in heels. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade it for a moment, but I’m glad to be out of there all the same.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

We looked up to the limo driver, who wore a sheepish expression.

“I’m afraid traffic is so snarled it’s going to take two hours to get to the airport. I’ve checked all the routes, and that’s the fastest way.”

“No worries,” Stan said.

He pushed a button and the privacy screen went up. He turned to me and smiled.

“You know, this limo does have tinted windows…”

He took me in his arms and kissed me hard and rough. His hands sought my breasts through the gauzy folds of my dress. I didn’t want my dress to get messed up, so I pushed him away.

His confusion turned to delight when I slipped out of the dress, pushing it down to reveal my demi cup, strapless bra. It didn’t conceal anything so much as present what I had in a most elegantly sluttish way. His eyes bulged out of his head as I slid the dress off my legs and folded it carefully, then placed it on the opposite seat.

“No panties?” He said, his eyes gleaming.

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