The NYCE Girls!

by Raquel Belle

  “That’s so thoughtful. I’m sure I can trust your judgment as far as whether Jared will like it.”

  “It’s supposed to be girls only,” Cara interjects—honestly sounding like an eight-year-old.

  “Oh, Cara, let him stay!” Another girl interjects. “And Laura, please do introduce us to the tall, dark, and handsome stranger.” She shoots me a flirtatious look.

  “This is Jared’s brother, Jason.” Laura gestures to the three girls I don’t know—I assume they’re all bridesmaids—standing there. “This is Melissa, Marissa, and Kirsten. All good friends of mine.”

  “Nice to meet you ladies.” I nod and I’m greeted by a burst of giggles in return.

  “You’re just in time for the fashion show!” The one called Melissa exclaims. “We all have our dresses fitted and wanted to take one last peek.”

  “Fantastic. Let’s take a look!”

  A shop assistant, a younger woman who presumably works under Vera’s iron fist, comes scurrying out from somewhere inside the racks of dresses lining one side of the room.

  “I’ll help you all get zipped into your gowns,” she tells Laura. “Sir, can I get you a glass of champagne?”

  “Sure, that would be great.”

  “Please make yourself comfortable.” She nods to the large white couch that lines another entire wall of the room. Small glass tables, holding assorted champagne flutes and glasses of juice, are lined up in front of it. Clearly, the girls have been here for some time.

  I settle into one of the couches and take the glass of champagne the young shop assistant hands me before she scurries back to the dressing rooms—which seem to be tucked down a hallway in the back. She seems to be constantly half-running. Vera must be a tough boss.

  I take in the scene of femininity around me as I wait. The two sides of the room to my left and right are stacked with racks and racks of dresses. One side holds only white gowns—but different shades of white, which I didn’t even know was possible. The other side holds all sorts of pastels and bolder shades. I guess one side is the gear for brides and the other for bridesmaids.

  Right in front of me, beyond the tiny glass tables, is a wall with a giant floor-to-ceiling mirror with three distinct panels, so you can see all the angles. A small stage is positioned in front of it. I’ve never seen anything like this before. Granted, I’ve definitely never gone to see people trying on wedding dresses until now. To one side of the mirror, there’s a doorway leading to a narrow hallway, where all the girls—and now the shop assistant—have disappeared. I tap my foot lightly, marveling that I’ve ended up in a place like this.

  “Okay, ready?” The shop assistant pokes her head out from the hallway at the back.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” I gulp down the champagne in my glass in one swig, steeling myself for what’s to come. I hope Cara doesn’t come out in some puffy monstrosity of a dress. But I think Laura has better taste than that… And from what I know of her, she’s too sweet to subject her bridesmaids to horrible dresses. Well, let’s see…

  First, Melissa, Marissa, and Kirsten walk out, one by one. Each one of them is wearing a lavender gown, coming just below the knee. The dresses are all perfectly identical in terms of fit and length, but vary at the top. Melissa has plain spaghetti straps, Marissa has a halter-neck that seems to have some kind of complicated tie at the back, and Kirsten’s has those funny little half-sleeve things at the shoulder. I want to say they’re called cap sleeves, but fashion vocabulary is really not my area of expertise.

  And then out comes Cara. Her dress is the exact same as the others but totally strapless. Her hair is pulled back in a delicate knot, showing the full beauty of her delicate neck, like a swan’s. Her silver necklace still hangs there, calling my eyes to her décolletage—and her collarbone. I remember how she traced her fingers along it the other night in the hotel room, leaning on that mahogany desk…

  “So, what do you think?” Melissa’s shrill voice cuts into my thoughts.

  “You all look… Fantastic. Absolutely amazing.” I say the words in response to Melissa’s question but my eyes are locked on Cara’s. I see her cheeks turning rosy as I’m speaking and I know that she well realizes…my words are meant just for her.

  “And what about the bride’s dress?” Cara says hurriedly, raising one eyebrow ever so slightly. I had been so caught up in Cara, I hadn’t even noticed that Laura had walked out after her.

  I immediately shift my gaze to Laura, who is shooting me an icy stare. All eyes on the bride, Jason, I remind myself. Isn’t that the rule?

  “You look stunning, Laura.” I get up and walk over to her, hoping to disarm her. “Jared is going to fall to his knees in front of you. I’m sure my little bro will be blown away by the bride.”

  “As long as he likes it, I’m happy,” she says shortly, looking down and away from me. Shit. She definitely noticed that I couldn't keep my eyes off her sister—and the poor girl has no clue why. Maybe it would be better if we just came clean, to avoid misunderstandings like this…

  “Well, why don’t we change back into our street clothes and grab a drink to celebrate the final dress fitting,” Kirsten says, sounding just a bit uncertain. The entire mood in the room has shifted and everyone has noticed.

  “Of course. Miss Conley, I’ll help you out of your dress. It really is gorgeous,” the shop assistant bustles into action. It’s clearly not the first case of heightened pre-wedding emotions she’s witnessed in her career. The girls file back to the dressing room one by one. I watch them go—Cara is the last one to exit and gives me a look over her shoulder that could turn a stronger man than I am to ice. Then she disappears into the dressing room closest to me, right at the start of the hallway. And I know I have to go after her.

  I wait until the other girls are safely tucked into their dressing rooms and then knock lightly on her door. She must know it’s me because she opens it without even saying a word—looking pissed as hell—and immediately ushers me inside.

  The second the door is closed she’s whispering furiously at me. “I told you to stay away. You saw what just happened with Laura. You and me together is only bad news.”

  “If she knew the reason I couldn’t stop staring at you, she wouldn’t be so hurt! Maybe if we just come clean—”

  “Absolutely not! Not after this. We have to end this. You have to stop it, now.”

  “Come on, Cara. You’re like that red velvet cake. I just had one tiny bite and now I want more. One small taste of you and now I’m insatiable.”

  “That is not my fault or my problem to be quite honest with you.”

  “Fine then, if you really feel that way and really don’t care, I’ll just work out my uh… frustrations with some manual labor on the construction site then.”

  “You do that,” she hisses the words at me.

  “Or we could work them out together.” I step towards her. She bites her lip and I can see the struggle in her face—wanting to toss me out of the dressing room but also just wanting. This is my chance. I take her face in my hands and kiss her, hard, like I did the first night. And she kisses me back, wrapping her arms around my neck just like she did that first night, standing on tiptoe to get even closer to me.

  I unzip the bridesmaid dress and it falls easily to the floor in a small heap. She gasps and I notice she’s got one leg up, wrapped around me, as if she’s trying to climb me. With a grin, I put both of my hands under her butt—while she wraps her arms around my neck even more firmly —and hoist her up onto my waist. My cock is rock hard and I’m sure she can feel it even through my pants. Against my stomach, I can feel her wetness through her panties. She’s going to soak my shirt if I’m not careful. She lets out a moan between kisses as she gyrates herself against my abs and then stops, pauses like a deer in headlights, giving me a horrified look.

  I think she’s going to demand that we stop but instead she says: “Put your hand over my mouth. Keep me quiet.”

  Without a word, I put my hand
over her mouth and kiss my way down her neck to her collarbone, to the top of her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra under the strapless dress and I delicately take one nipple in my mouth, feeling her let out a gasp of air into my hand, which is still covering her mouth.

  And then—

  “Cara!” Laura’s voice comes from outside of the door, sounding impatient and irritated. “You ready? We’re all waiting.”

  I jerk my hand away from Cara’s mouth. It’s like an electric shock, hearing that tense voice in this moment.

  “Yes!” Cara calls back. “I’ll be right there.”

  She quickly clambers off of me and throws on a t-shirt and jean shorts that were lying crumpled up on a chair in the dressing room. She turns to me, buttoning up the shorts and slipping on her sandals, her hair looking wild and her eyes even wilder… She’s definitely panicked. “Just stay in here and stay quiet,” she whispers to me. “I’ll go out and if they ask, I’ll just say that I guess you left already when we went to change—to go report back to Jared. You were never in my dressing room, okay?”

  “What about the shop assistant? And Vera?” I ask. “They’ll see me leave after you.”

  “They won’t say anything. Just. Be. Quiet. Wait here until we’re gone.” And with that, she shoves me into the corner of the dressing room behind the door, and takes off. But before she does, she stands on tiptoe one last time, and gives me a kiss—and the tiniest smile—before storming out the door.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cara

  I hate to admit it but ever since I left Jason standing in the dressing room at Vera’s Bridal Salon, I haven’t been able to get him out of my mind. Days later, I can still feel the sensation of his hot breath on my neck and collarbone, and I shiver at the thought of his tongue just slightly grazing my nipple.

  “Hellooo, earth to Cara!” Jazz’s voice comes through my phone, snapping me back into the moment.

  “Yeah, seriously! You good?” Beth chimes in.

  “Ugh, I don’t know. What am I going to do tonight?!” I wail. I’m in my hotel suite at The Old Boston Inn, getting ready for yet another wedding-related event. An event that Jason will be attending as well. Beth and Jazz, who are currently hanging out at Beth’s apartment, are trying to calm me. “I’ll definitely see him at this cocktail party tonight.”

  “Just act calm and cool,” Jazz advises. “Maybe keep your distance.”

  “Yeah, it sounds like Laura was suspicious after the dress shop incident,” Beth adds, hesitantly.

  “I don’t know if she was suspicious… I doubt it, actually. But she was definitely annoyed.”

  “Getting upstaged by her sister can’t be easy,” Beth says with a wry laugh. “Maybe Jason is right and you guys should just come clean?”

  “Yeah,” Jazz adds. “I doubt she would have cared as much if she understood just why he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you...”

  “No, no, it’s too late for that now. Now she’ll be pissed that I was keeping it a secret on top of it all.”

  “Alright. So, the most important question. What are you wearing tonight?” Beth looks up at me.

  “Well, if you’d actually pay attention, I could show you.”

  “Seriously,” Jazz breaks in with a giggle, “Beth, you haven’t even been looking at the phone which sort of makes FaceTime pointless. Take a swig of your wine.” She thrusts a glass at Beth’s face.

  “Sorry, sorry! You girls know me. I’ve got my laptop open at the same time. Here.” I hear a dull thud and then she angles the phone to show a closed laptop. “It’s closed. You both have my full and undivided attention. And I’ll take that,” she says as she grabs the glass that Jazz is still holding in front of her. “Okay. Let’s take a look at your outfit, Cara.”

  I walk over to the mirror and peek at myself. I’m wearing the blue-and-beige patterned DVF wrap dress—the Diane von Furstenberg that Beth had cast her vote for when the girls were advising me on my outfit for my first date with Jason.

  “It’s not too low-cut, is it?” I ask, surveying myself in concern as I angle the phone at the mirror so the girls can see too. The wrap dress comes down below my knees and even has short cap sleeves, so it looks demure enough from the back… But the front has a deep V, showing just a hint of cleavage. I look at the pendant sparkling against my chest, remembering briefly how Jason asked about it in an attempt to casually check me out.

  “No, this is totally appropriate for an evening cocktail party!” Jazz says firmly.

  “Agreed. Where is this being held, anyway? Who will be there?” Beth—always the journalist looking to get all the facts—asks.

  “It’s at Jared’s parents’ house. Jared’s and Jason’s parents…” I tell them. “And it will be both families and close friends… So basically the full bridal party.”

  “So there will be enough people to talk to there other than him. You can keep your distance,” Jazz notes.

  “And you get to see your parents!” Beth adds. “You haven’t seen them yet, right?”

  “Correct. They just got into town today,” I say with a smile, smoothing my blonde hair. It’s pulled into a low-slung ponytail, draped over one shoulder—an attempt to tame the frizz that I’m getting from this humid Boston summer.

  “Then you’ll be fine, Cara. Enjoy your time with your family. You don’t get to see them that often. That should be your focus.”

  “Totally. And with your parents there, I’m sure Jason won’t try to pull any funny stuff like he did in the dressing room at the bridal shop,” Jazz says.

  “You’re right. He’s too smart for that. Okay, I need to bolt. Thanks, ladies!”

  “Sure thing!”

  “Have fun!”

  I blow them kisses through the phone and end the call, determined to take their advice to heart. Jazz is right. Tonight isn’t going to be any trouble at all. Since the bridal shop incident, I’ve been the model maid of honor, helping Laura over the past few days with every tiny detail from place settings to floral arrangements. Neither of us mentioned the moment at Vera’s Bridal shop again and I’m hoping she’s just decided to forget about it and move on.

  I take a last look in the mirror, smoothing my dress slightly before I grab my bag. Laura went over to the Levine/Nichols house earlier to help set up for the cocktail party and insisted she didn’t need my assistance—so I’m heading over solo. I’ll just grab an Uber. I get out my phone and order one when I’m interrupted by a knock at the hotel room door. My heart, for just a second, stops beating. It can’t be Laura or my parents. Jason has been totally absent since the dressing room incident… Could it possibly be him? He knows what number my hotel room is—he’s been up here more than once.

  The knock at the door repeats. I feel a light sweat break out as I consider the possibility in panic. What if he came by to pick me up and wants to go together? I’ll just have to make it clear to him that it isn’t an option. I stride firmly to the door, already preparing my speech and fling it open—only to find the concierge from the hotel lobby standing at the door, holding an enormous bouquet of red roses.

  “Miss Conley? These were delivered for you.”

  “Yes, please come in.” I stumble the words out in my shock. “You can set them on the table.” He wordlessly puts them down and then turns to me.

  “There was also a card.” He hands me a small envelope and then gives me a slight bow before exiting the room. He moves so quickly and I’m so bewildered by the whole incident, I don’t even get a chance to tip him.

  The white envelope doesn’t even have anything written on the outside. I open it quickly, my breathing suddenly faster. The plain white card inside has only one sentence written on it.

  “Looking forward to seeing you tonight.” The words are written in black ink, in a dark slanting hand.

  It’s not signed but I have no doubt who it’s from. I knew I would see him tonight but now that he’s done this, I’m even more nervous. I go to the table and bury my face into the s
weet-smelling roses. Taking one by the stem, I see that all the thorns have been painstakingly removed and can’t help but smile. This guy really has an eye for detail. My phone buzzes. Shit. The Uber I ordered is here.

  I take one of the smaller roses and break it off at the head, so just a short stem remains, and dash out the door with it still in my hand. Once in the car, I carefully slip the small stem of the flower into the band that’s holding my low-slung ponytail into place, securing it carefully. I turn my phone camera on selfie mode and look at myself to make sure the rose is straight. Perfect. My cheeks have a fresh color in them and a mix of fear and excitement plays in my stomach on the drive over to the party. I know nothing will happen tonight but even seeing him is enough for me right now…

  ***

  Two hours later, that rush of adrenaline has faded. I’ve been at the Levine/Nichols house and have talked to pretty much everyone—from Bob and Susan to the obnoxious groomsman Thomas, who made me feel insecure about my dress after he blatantly stared at my boobs. I haven’t seen Jason all night. He’s not here. At least without him distracting me, I can focus on enjoying the time with my family.

  “You look just lovely, dear,” Mom strokes my cheek gently, a tiny smile on her face.

  “So do you, Mom.” I give her a hug, noticing the increasing streaks of gray in her otherwise blonde hair. She has more lines than when I last saw her but otherwise she looks just like I remember. Her hair is swept back in a low bun, she’s got the same simple diamond stud earrings as always…and no other jewelry except for her wedding ring. She’s wearing a loose fitting plain black dress, accented only by a slim red bow around her always-slim waist.

  “She sure does,” Dad swoops in and puts his arm around her, grinning broadly. “So how’s business, kiddo? You kicking ass and taking names in the big city?”

  “I guess so. Business is good.” I watch with a smile as he pecks her on the cheek. Laura and I have always had a prime example of what a good relationship looks like in front of us.