After Breakfast

I was the maid of honor. After the wedding breakfast the next day, the bride and groom invited a small group of us to their suite to say goodbye before their honeymoon and our return to homes far away. My husband and me, the best man and his wife and the bride’s single brother joined them. We had cured our hangovers by popping Advils and drinking mimosas at breakfast. A couple bottles of bubbly had made it back to the suite.

Ben, my husband of two years, left to start packing our luggage. “You stay honey, you need to talk to your friends.” It’s true they were more my friends than his. “We have time before we catch the shuttle.”

Carla, the best man’s wife, wasn’t really over her hangover and went back to their room a bit later.

Anyway, we were having a wonderful time telling stories about each other, tiptoeing around subjects that were best only alluded to, and of course finishing off the bottles. Jose, the best man, started clinking a glass, demanding Ralph kiss his bride Sheila yet again.

But Ralph had other ideas and, along with his kiss, a hand came to rest on Sheila’s ample breast. Of course, the clinking quickly got louder, and we all were banging on our glasses. Sheila’s mouth was covered but her eyes told the story of her momentary embarrassment as she looked sideways at us and then back to Ralph.

Ralph’s hand wandered down to her knee and pushed up under her skirt as the other hand gingerly unbuttoned her lacy blouse.

Sheila looked over at us with her eyes wide and mouth agape. Then there was a sharp gasp, and she turned to grab Ralph’s head and resume kissing him. Clink, clink, clink became “Go, go, go.”

As she started to writhe with pleasure, Ralph managed to unclip her bra at the front and we all got a look at her chest.