by S. R. Grey
“Hey!” Lainey steps forward. “Not to be rude or anything, but this is my sister’s wedding dress we’re talking about. You can either check in the back right now, or let me do it.”
“Lainey, my hero,” I murmur as I place my arm around her slim waist.
The sales lady harrumphs, but scurries off, though not before uttering a disgruntled, “I’ll be right back.”
“Look at you, Miss Get Results,” Eliza says to Lainey with an impressed nod once the saleswoman disappears to the back.
Tugging my sister in close to me, I kiss her cheek. “I love you. You know that, right?”
“Ah, I do know that. And I love you too, Aubs. That’s why I always have your back.”
“You do, don’t you?”
“Yep.” She nods proudly. “Whether strippers or a missing dress, I’m on it for you.”
“You are,” Eliza interjects, “sometimes even literally.”
We all laugh at the fresh memory of Lainey taking down the strippers.
“Nolan really is lucky to have you,” I tell her. “And I am too.”
My sister actually blushes. “Aww, Aubrey.”
Lainey is so loud and brash sometimes, but so shy and humble at others.
“You’re such a contradiction,” I tell her.
Winking at me, she says, “Nolan says the same thing. He claims that’s what keeps things interesting with us.” With a nudge, she adds, “If you know what I mean.”
She winks and I roll my eyes. “Dear Lord, here we go.”
Eliza asks, “Is this more sex talk?”
“You know it,” I reply. “With Lainey, it’s always sex, sex, and more sex.”
“Sounds like life with Benny,” Eliza remarks wistfully. “I swear he’s insatiable.”
Hell, I give up with these two. If you can’t beat ’em, you may as well join them, right?
So I do.
“Yeah, Brent is pretty much insatiable, as well,” I say. “Not that I’m complaining.”
The stuffy sales lady returns and, having clearly overheard at least part of our conversation, shakes her head disapprovingly.
“She seems like she could use some dick,” my sister whispers, a little on the loud side. “Maybe you should give her that extra Area 51 you brought along.”
“Hey, not before I get mine,” Eliza cries out.
We all look at each other and can’t help but lose it on the spot.
Stuffy Sales Lady Who Clearly Needs Dick—her new name, by the way—is not amused.
In a chastising tone, she snaps, “Ladies, please. We run a classy, upscale establishment here.”
That makes me so mad that I snap back, “Yeah, a classy, upscale establishment that loses people’s wedding gowns!”
Just then the manager notices the ruckus and comes over to see what’s going on.
After hearing about the missing dress, and checking for the invoice like it might magically appear, she dismisses Stuffy Sales Lady Who Clearly Needs Dick and begins apologizing profusely.
She’s much nicer and promises to look into where my dress could be.
I conclude that she, unlike the other lady, must be getting a little something-something somewhere—either from a person or through self-satisfaction.
Hey, maybe I should give her the extra Area 51.
On the way home, I run that idea by the girls, and though they veto it, we have a good laugh imagining it.
“Hey, no one’s getting one of those Area 51s until I get mine,” Eliza warns.
“Okay, okay, I promise I’ll dig through my luggage tonight. When I find the damn things, I’ll put them on the dresser in our bedroom so I don’t forget to give you yours.”
“Cool,” she replies. “But maybe leave mine there until I tell you I need it. I’d like to surprise Benny when the time is right and I don’t want him running across it in our bedroom beforehand.”
“Ooh, thanks for telling me that,” I say. “And don’t worry. Your Area 51 shall remain on the dresser till you say otherwise, m’dear.”
“Thanks, Aubrey,” she replies, laughing.
All in all, despite the setback at the dress shop, I’m in a really good mood by the time we return to the lake house.
But then I walk in and go upstairs, only to find Brent seated on our bed with his leg propped up.
“What the hell?” I cry out. “What happened?”
His ankle is swollen to about three times its normal size.
Whatever occurred, this is truly a disaster.
What could go wrong next?
Do I even want to know?
Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off
“Oh, Brent…” Aubrey places her face in her hands and sobs. “Everything that can possibly go wrong is going wrong. First, my dress is MIA and now”—she looks up and gestures to my wrapped ankle—“you end up injured just going for a casual, fun skate. I don’t know. Maybe we should just call the whole thing off.”
“What?” I blurt out. “Cancel the wedding? No, sweetheart, you can’t be serious.”
Aubrey sighs. “We could always just run off and elope.”
“Um…”
She glances down at my ankle and cries, “No, wait, that’s out too. We can’t run off when you can barely walk.”
She chokes back another sob, and I wish I could jump up like I always do and go to her.
I can’t, though, thanks to my damn wounded ankle.
We’re in our bedroom, and I’m propped up on the bed. There’s an ice pack resting on my wrapped injury in an attempt to reduce the crazy swelling.
Too bad it’s not working.
Aubrey is seated on the edge of the bed, her face in her hands again.
Shit, she’s still crying.
I do the only thing I’m able to do—I lean over and reach for her so I can pull her to me.
But even when I try that—fuck me all to hell!—pain shoots up my leg.
“Shit!” I crumple back against the pillows, wincing.
“Brent…” Aubrey crawls up into my arms. “This is so, so bad. What are we going to do?”
“Everything will be fine,” I tell her in what I hope is a convincing tone. “The family doctor who made the emergency house call just before you guys got back said my ankle is just badly sprained. He left crutches for me to use for now, though he insists so long as I baby it, my ankle should be good as new in time for the wedding.”
That just makes her cry harder.
“B-b-but we still can’t get married. How can I stand at the altar not wearing my dream wedding gown?” She motions to her ripped jeans and tee and sobs, “I’ll probably just be stuck wearing something bummy like this.”
Crap, I need to cheer her up. This is going downhill fast.
I glance over to a chair where undergarments she brought along for the wedding night—a silky white bra, panties, and a garter with white stockings that are sexy as hell—lie draped over the back.
Truthfully, they were all I could think about before Aubrey returned. I can’t wait to see them on her…and to strip them off her.
But for now, maybe I can make her smile with some witty commentary. Yeah, that should work.
Nodding to the lingerie, I playfully state, “Hey, you could always just wear that getup over there. I’d be cool with that.”
She scoffs. “Of course you’d be okay with me wearing itty, bitty undergarments to the ceremony.”
I hold her closer and joke, “Hey, why the hell not?”
She smacks my arm. ”Brent, be serious.”
“Oh, come on. Think about it. You’d certainly have everyone’s full attention. And isn’t that what every bride wants?”
She finally laughs, and I’m glad my silly attempt to lighten things up is finally working.
“Brent, you’re so bad,” she says.
“That’s right. I’m so bad that I’m actually good, babe.”
Laughing even harder, she says, “Stop it.”
I rest my chin on her head
. “Okay, sweetheart, I’ll behave.”
We sit quietly then, till out of the blue, she looks up and says, “Oh my God, I just thought of something hilarious.”
I rub her back. “What’s that, Aubs?”
“Didn’t you tell me that your aunt on your dad’s side is, like, super stuffy?”
I let out a chuckle. “Aunt Gertrude? Yeah, you could say she’s a tad uptight.”
“Well then, could you just imagine her reaction if I actually wore lingerie and nothing else for the wedding?”
I laugh. “She’d surely have a coronary on the spot. You know, I really don’t think she’s ever had sex. It’s probably too ‘messy’ for her.”
Aubrey peers up at me, brow furrowed. “But she has twin boys, right?”
“Uh-huh. Ricky and Ronny are adopted, though,” I explain.
“Ah, got it. Still, I’m sure she’s gotten some sex somewhere at some point.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But heaven knows she sure could use some now.”
Just then I remember something else about Aunt Gertrude, and it’s important.
“About those boys, Aubrey…”
“What about them?” she asks.
“When they’re around, be sure you lock our bedroom door. They’re only eight, but those twins have no respect for privacy. They literally get into everything. They were here at the lake house one time and grabbed two hockey sticks from my room. We heard them out in the hallway, and when we went to see what was going on, they were beating the living hell out of each other with the sticks.”
“Charming,” Aubrey says sarcastically. “I’ll be sure to let Eliza and Lainey know to lock their bedroom doors too.”
“Good idea. Those kids are truly out of control.”
With Aubrey in a better mood, we lie there and talk about a lot of non-wedding-related shit, like how everyone is getting along and having a nice time.
“I’m glad our wave of bad luck hasn’t spread to anyone else,” Aubrey states.
“Yeah, me too.”
Suddenly chewing her lip, she makes a face.
“What now?” I ask.
She sighs. “I was just thinking that maybe we should stay in tonight. I was originally planning to suggest we all go out for a big fancy dinner in town. But with you hurt and misfortune following us, it might be safer to stay in.”
I can’t disagree, plus I should stay off my bad ankle, so I reply, “Okay. Why don’t we order in a bunch of pizzas?”
“That sounds perfect, Brent. And afterward we can just hang out. Maybe even have a few drinks. Well,” she clarifies, “not Benny, since he no longer drinks. But I sure could use some alcohol after the day I just had.”
“Hell,” I laugh, “I could use some too.”
Aubrey rolls away from me so she can stand. “I better go downstairs and get everyone up to speed,” she says.
“Okay, babe.”
After she leaves, I rake my fingers through my dark hair.
Shit, I hope the doctor’s right and I’m okay for the wedding, since Aubrey sure will be disappointed if I have to hobble down the aisle on crutches.
Dick-Measuring Contest is On
The pizza is good, but the drinks afterward are even better.
My sister, calling on her former cocktail-waitressing skills, whips up an assortment of summery frozen beverages, things like piña coladas, strawberry daiquiris, and frozen margaritas.
Mmmm…
She also insists on serving them to us.
I suspect that’s so we don’t see how much alcohol she’s added to each frothy concoction. This way she can get us good and drunk.
That’s fine with me, as we’re all staying in, meaning no one will be driving.
What’s extra sweet and thoughtful, though, is that Lainey makes a special nonalcoholic batch of drinks just for Benny. She tells him this way he can be part of the festivities and not have to worry about messing with his sobriety.
Benny tells Lainey he really appreciates that, as does Eliza.
When my sister brings in round three on a serving tray, Nolan, naughty as always, and probably a little buzzed by now, remarks, “Babe, too bad you didn’t pack your sexy bar wench outfit. It would’ve been perfect for tonight.”
I can’t tell if he means for her waitressing for us…or for him later.
Lainey’s bar wench uniform is pretty sexy, consisting of a black pair of thigh-high boots, a short black skirt, a flouncy white blouse, and a corset to wear overtop that makes her boobs look absolutely huge.
Nolan, of course, loves it.
Lainey stops by his recliner and, with her free hand, smacks him on the arm.
“Nolan, don’t be silly. I don’t even know where I put that old thing.”
Nolan stares up at her, appearing confused.
“Sure you do,” he says. “You wore it for me one night about a month ago. You haven’t forgotten about that, have you? We were role-playing. I was supposed to be a knight from the Middle Ages, and I’d captured you, the fair maiden—”
“Ugh, that’s enough.” I cover my ears. “TMI, TMI. I don’t want to hear another word.”
As it is, I know enough about their sex life from Lainey. The last thing I want now are images of them “role-playing” bouncing around in my brain.
Though, come to think of it, I bet Brent would really like if I suggested such a thing for us to try.
Hmm, Brent as a knight and me as a fair maiden… This is totally doable.
I could be in distress and he has to rescue me. I’d then feel compelled to reward him, right? But, oh my goodness, fair maiden-me has never been with a man.
I glance over at Brent and swallow hard.
Knowing me well, he raises a questioning brow.
Yeah, I think I’ll ask Lainey if I can borrow that outfit when we get back to Vegas.
Just then, Lainey, noticing my exchange with Brent, and knowing me too damn well too, rolls her eyes my way.
“You are such a little hypocrite, Aubrey.”
“What?”
She tsks, “Pretending to be a prude when all along you’re over there thinking about how much you’d like role-playing with Brent.”
“Hey, I’m not a prude,” I cry out, attempting to defend my pervert integrity.
“Are too,” she chides.
She’s still passing out drinks, so I snatch mine from her forcefully.
“Am not,” I murmur.
“Then prove it,” she says.
Ooh, a challenge!
“Okay, I will.”
I look around.
Wow, everyone is watching our exchange. I better come up with something good.
The first thing that pops into my mind is the conversation we had at the male revue.
Oh, you know the one.
Proudly, I announce, “We’re going to have that dick-measuring contest we talked about at my bachelorette party. Then you’ll see that I’m no prude, especially because I’m going to be the deciding judge!”
“Dick-measuring contest?” Brent asks, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Eliza, of course, over by Benny, is cracking up.
Benny, the only sober one at this point, eyes me warily.
Nolan is too busy staring at Lainey’s jean-clad ass to offer any commentary.
Figures.
Meanwhile, my sister is gawking at me in disbelief.
“Just how much have you had to drink, Aubrey?” she asks.
“Enough,” I reply, giggling, “that the dick-measuring contest is on, bitch.”
But You Don’t Even Have a Dick
I have no idea what Aubrey’s going on about, but the girls sure seem to. They’re frighteningly pumped for this…uh…“dick-measuring” contest.
Turning to my wild and crazy wife-to-be, I murmur, “Uh, last time I checked, babe, you don’t have a dick. So how’s this supposed to work?”
“It’s not a contest for me and the girls,
silly man,” she says, rolling her pretty turquoise eyes. “We’re going to measure you and the guys.’”
I chuckle, like yeah right. “You think so, huh? And what else did you just say to everyone? You’re planning to be the deciding judge?”
I level her with an I-don’t-think-so glare, but she naturally ignores me.
Instead, she states smugly, “Yep, I am.”
That’s when I lose it.
“Over my dead body you are!” I roar. “My soon-to-be wife is not going anywhere near these two jerk-offs’ junk.”
I gesture angrily to Nolan and Benny, and Nolan says, “Jerk-off, huh? Funny, but that’s how I plan to get ready for this contest. A little preliminary stroking the ole trouser trout should do the trick, right?”
Nolan goes fishing once and now half his jokes are aquatic-related. Heaven help us.
In any case, I know he’s being his usual smartass self. Still, I feel compelled to shoot him a wicked glare.
Aubrey, meanwhile, is going on and on about how this will prove to her sister once and for all that she’s not a prude.
“Ah, babe, I think there are better ways to make your point,” I remark.
“Yes, by measuring cocks,” she tells me.
Okay, seriously, if she thinks I’m cool with her holding a tape measure up to my teammates’ hard dicks, which could easily lead to incidental touching, she is off her rocker.
“Are you fucking nuts?” I grind out.
Lainey, zoning in on the “nuts” part of my comment—no surprise there—muses, “Hey, maybe we should measure those too. You know, to find out whose sack is the biggest.”
Whaaat?
“You Shelburne women are fucking loco,” I murmur. Then, pointing at Nolan, I add, “You best rein in your woman, my friend.”
He laughs. “Are you serious? There’s no reining Lainey in, Brent. Not Aubrey, either. Haven’t you realized that by now? Remember how we thought we’d tamed them? Well, I’ve finally come to the conclusion it’s just not possible. Embrace it, man, make peace with yourself.”
