“I wish we could see our friends like we did before we bought the house,” she said.
“Maybe we can have a holiday party,” he said. “Would you like to have everyone here for Christmas or New Year’s?”
“Don’t get carried away. I was thinking more of pizza and beer and a movie or a game of cards,” she said. “I don’t think I’m ready for a big dinner. Anyway, we should wait for the wedding to do that because then we’ll have all our china and linens and things.”
“Okay, whatever you want,” he said.
“I can tell you what I want right now,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him from the couch.
“What?” he asked, smirking.
With her pointer finger she beckoned him to follow her out of the living room and up the stairs. It was the only gesture she needed to give him and he was on her, running up the stairs after her. He flew for the bed and lay down on his side, ready to watch. There was nothing in his memory as tantalizing as Brenda doing a sultry hula that led to a striptease. She’d started doing it for him on his day off during the week after a night on call. After he slept in the morning and ran their errands, he’d wait at the front door for her to get home from work, and the first thing she liked doing was getting a shower and into yoga pants and a T-shirt.
But first, she did a slow removal of her staid law office garb which included the requisite suit, a tailored shirt, a full slip, a garter belt and stockings, underpants, and a matching frilly padded bra. A regular spectator of Victoria Secret commercials, often the first one to get the catalog from the mailbox and disappear into the bathroom with it, Larry liked Brenda in nice underwear and he made sure he knew what she wore.
“No one else is going to see this, right?” he’d ask.
“Only the men who watch me do a striptease at work every day,” she’d answer, and then quickly assure him that was American humor. “No one but you will see it.”
The evening striptease had become a staple of their sex life, and Brenda knew that on Larry’s days off, they would have the most amazing sex, leaving nothing in their repertoire out.
Dinner would be takeout from Eastside Grill, also a day-off staple. They’d linger at the table long after dinner, sharing the latest gossip about their jobs and friends.
But on this weekend night, Brenda decided to try utilizing some of the tricks she had up her sleeve to get Larry’s attention, and it worked. She added some kinky moves, adopting some of the things he liked doing to her. He was a little shocked when she first tried it on him and she discovered she liked doing it to him because it increased her power in their relationship. Larry wouldn’t be able to say no to her after that.
Breathless, flinging himself back on the pillows, he gasped for air, looking at her in shock. “Where did that come from?”
“You do it to me all the time,” she said smugly. “Did it feel good?”
“Do you need to ask?” he moaned, trying to catch his breath. “I’m a middle-aged man. You need to be careful when you spring something like that on me.”
“Ha! You’re insane,” she said, rolling over to get right in his face. “Tell me. Did it feel good?”
“Yes! When I do it to you, does it feel good?” he asked.
“Well, it might feel better if you timed it for when I’m going to come instead of when you’re going to come,” she said, smiling. “Like I just did for you.”
“I thought my head was going to blow off,” he said, finally catching his breath. “Wow, I can’t believe we’ve been sleeping together for almost six months and it’s still this good.”
“It had better be good for a lot longer than six months,” she said. “I plan on being with you until I die.”
Rolling back to her, he kissed her again. “Until we die.”
Chapter 7
June
Two weeks after school let out, Brenda’s brother, Pete graduated from Saint Joseph’s with honors, not valedictorian of his class, and the wedding between Brenda Marie Lipinski and Lawrence Henry Babula was about to finally take place.
With the usual prenuptial jitters, Brenda had moved home the day before the wedding. Larry’s mom and dad, aunts and uncles and various cousins had converged from Pittsburgh upon the house on Pine Street and she couldn’t take the commotion. Fortunately, she wasn’t a suspicious person, and except for Larry’s television, they had nothing of value to lose in case one of his relatives had sticky fingers.
“I’ll miss you,” he’d said. “But I completely understand. It’s a little overwhelming to have so many people in the house.”
Overwhelming was a mild term, but Brenda let it go. “I’ll see you at the church!”
“Yes,” he said moving in for a kiss. “At six sharp, tomorrow evening. I can’t wait. Don’t be late!”
“I hope I don’t have to stand in line to use the bathroom,” she said, teasing. “My mom promised me I’d get to use it first.”
Estelle had everything planned out; Brenda got the bathroom at noon. The neighbors all had offered the use of theirs for the bridesmaids and other guests, but they said it wasn’t necessary. They’d shower at home and come ready to dress. A hairstylist and makeup artist would be on hand to work on Brenda at four sharp. It would give her time to get to the church, get dressed with her grandmother and mother, and have photos taken with her attendants.
“It’s like a fairytale,” Terry had said. “Like your mother read a book about what the perfect wedding should be, then set out to get each detail in place.”
“That’s exactly what she did!” Brenda exclaimed. “I feel sorry for my younger sisters because after this there will be no money for weddings.”
“They’re paying for it?” Terry asked, dumbfounded.
“They insisted. Just between you and me, Larry and I told my sister Margaret that we’d pay for her wedding next summer. She’s marrying an Army guy, so I don’t think they’ll have the cash.”
“Wow, that Larry!” Terry said.
“I know,” Brenda replied. “One in a million.”
Three weeks earlier, Terry had the wedding shower for Brenda. “I’m so grateful,” Brenda said. “My grandmother’s house is even more cluttered than my mother’s, and no one else in the family or my bridesmaids have the money to have a shower.”
“I’m your maid of honor,” Terry stated proudly. “It’s my responsibility to have the shower. My mother has been making pierogi for a month. It’ll be wonderful, you’ll see.”
“I have no doubt,” Brenda said, kissing her cheek. “You’re my best friend, and we haven’t even known each other a year.”
Terry took the Friday before the shower off from work to prepare. Her apartment was looking its best, all furnished and decorated in her minimal style. On the front porch, Terry and her neighbor Earle clustered terra-cotta pots of white mums tied with white satin ribbons. Brenda didn’t want the honeycomb bridal bells or any cliché decorations, and in their place, Terry placed fresh white flowers all over; lilies, roses, stephanotis, gladiolas - any white flower the florist had that day.
In the living room, she set up three linen-tablecloth-clad card tables and chairs to add to the window seat and couch seating. Harry set up a long folding table against a bare wall in the living room and that would hold the buffet, Polish food Elizabeth Kovac and Brenda’s grandmother and mother had prepared. A huge sheet cake, the only gesture to corny wedding decorations, had a Barbie and Ken bride and groom in the center.
Brenda had one goal and that was to get the wedding over with so she and Larry could get on with their lives. Relaxed and jovial during the shower, she was a perfect complement to Terry’s nervous energy wanting everything to be nice for her friend. The tiny apartment was packed with bridesmaids, aunts, cousins, and of course Larry’s family from Pittsburgh. Six ladies shared the couch, twelve around the folding tables and chairs, four on the window seats, and more folding chairs from Saint Brigid’s. In spite of a cool day in April, Terry had to open the windows to keep
the heavily perfumed air from suffocating them in the rising heat.
“Jesus, a bunch of old ladies with White Shoulders doth make a bridal shower putrid,” Brenda whispered.
“Is it your family or his? My apartment is going to have to be fumigated after this,” Terry admitted.
“Probably both,” Brenda said. “An old lady is an old lady. Don’t ever wear White Shoulders.”
Then it was time to open the gifts. The requisite gag gifts from the young cousins were funny and embarrassing. Then the virginal white nightgown from the mother-of-the-bride to the bride-to-be was the biggest embarrassment, worse than the pink vibrator.
“Why white?” Brenda hissed to Terry. “Everyone knows we’ve been living together.”
“It’s tradition,” her mother said, having heard her. “It doesn’t make any difference what’s transpired before the wedding night; the wedding night is still sacred.”
“God, I never thought of that,” a cousin said. “That’s really a lovely way to look at it. It changes the entire way of thinking. You can still have a sacred wedding night regardless. It’s your first night together as man and wife.”
“I would think for Brenda something in black and red satin with crotchless underpants would be more fitting,” another cousin said. At first, silence signaled the inappropriateness of the comment, until Brenda burst out laughing.
“We’ll save that for you, Fran,” someone called out, and the festivities continued, saved by laughter.
When the clock reached five, Terry felt a tiny bit of hysteria, wanting everyone to leave and to get her house back. Brenda took pity on her and started the exodus.
“Thank you again, everyone,” she called out. “It was a wonderful shower. I’ll see all of you in three weeks!”
They left en masse then, calling thanks, hugging Terry goodbye and thanking her for a great afternoon. When the last person left, Terry shut and locked the door, and then knocked at Earle’s.
“My dear, it sounded like a herd of cattle coming down the steps just now!”
“I’m so sorry, Earle,” she said. “My floors will never be the same. Do you want some Polish food? I have a ton of it left.”
“Oh, my yes,” he said. “It’s my favorite.”
“I’ll be right back. I wish I could hire a cleaning crew,” she mumbled, running back up the stairs for the first time in half an hour.
But when she opened the door, she was surprised that a group of the women had straightened up most of the mess, including placing all the food in the kitchen while she said goodbye to her guests. All she would have to do was fold up the extra furniture and get it down to the porch for her father, and sweep the floor. Relief. She’d be sure to find out from Brenda who had done the work.
Making up a plate of food for Earle was fun; it started a tradition of sharing food with him. She also put together a container for her next-door neighbor Mrs. Dell, a lovely middle-aged woman who lived with her husband and adult son.
Walking back from Mrs. Dell’s, Terry’s mother and father came down the driveway unexpectedly.
“We were in the mood for Polish food for dinner,” Harry said, smiling. “And we knew where to get it tonight.”
“And we’ll help you clean up,” Elizabeth said. “Is it bad?”
“Not too,” Terry said, holding the door open for them. “But I’m glad to see you. I was so relieved they left and now I’m kind of depressed.”
“Oh yes, I know that well. It’s a letdown after all the preparation. Only Brenda was your friend. You were truly entertaining strangers.”
“Showers are a stupid tradition,” Harry said. “I much prefer the way we did it.”
“Oh, don’t bore the girl with those details,” Elizabeth said slapping his arm. “Where’s your broom?”
Within half an hour, the apartment was almost back to normal except for the pervasive smell of White Shoulders.
***
And then the big day finally arrived. The atmosphere in the church was ethereal, transformed by the flickering light of floor-mounted candle-stands at the end of each pew, the smell of rose incense in the air, the organist playing a soft medley of Bach and Beethoven. The church was packed with the entire law office and emergency room staff except for a skeleton crew who stayed behind. Waiting up at the altar, which was strewn with thousands of white blossoms, Larry was absolutely resplendent in a black tux, his eyes sparkling in the candlelit church, unable to focus on anything but the double doors from which his bride would emerge.
Finally, after Estelle Lipinski in taupe silk satin was seated, a hush came over the church as the organist began to play Mendelssohn's “Wedding March.” First, the Lipinski sisters started the procession, five gorgeous girls of graduated heights, wearing suits of beige silk with rhinestone buttons.
“They can actually wear those suits again someday,” someone whispered.
Next, Terry came through the double doors, ravishing in a form-fitting tan silk sheath which unfortunately, in the candlelight, made everyone do a double take.
“Oh my God!” Brenda’s future mother-in-law whispered in Polish with disapproving pursed lips. “A naked dress!”
But as she walked down the aisle, the beautiful maid of honor with thick blonde hair piled on her head, a beautiful figure shone to its best advantage in the naked dress, everyone agreed that the bride would have to really be something to outdo Terry.
Brenda didn’t disappoint; she was regal. Everything about her was just perfect, from her designer dress to her hair and makeup. Estelle had done well.
Larry watched her walking down the aisle on Ray Lipinski’s arm and burst into tears, Arvin at his back, whispering words of strength to him. When she reached the altar, Larry didn’t wait for direction from the priest but went right to her and grasped her free hand.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, sobbing. “I love you so much.”
The priest raised his hand so the celebrants would be seated. “Who giveth this woman in holy matrimony?”
“I do,” Ray said, choking on his tears, as well.
Brenda let go of Larry’s hand for the last time and embraced her father, kissing his cheek.
“I love you, Daddy,” she said. “Thank you so much for this.”
Returning to his seat next to Estelle, he grabbed his wife’s hand and they cried together. Their beautiful daughter was going to become a wife, further separating her life from that of her family’s.
The mass was the full megillah, and after an hour, the bridal party had lost track of time with the kneeling and the vows and the candle lighting and communion. Arvin watched Terry carefully during the service; mouthing to her at the beginning you’re so beautiful. She smiled, but didn’t look at him again. They had not spoken to each other since the Wednesday night in November when he’d stood her up. He’d heard from Brenda that she was still seeing that librarian, but that it was a friendly, casual relationship that had no future because there was no sexual chemistry between them. According to Brenda, Terry claimed Russ never even made a pass at her. But they enjoyed each other’s company, she said, and went to plays and concerts and museum openings, and more importantly, he had respect for her and never stood her up.
Mercifully, the ceremony was finally over and the reception began. Once again, Estelle and Ray had outdone themselves, sparing no expense, having the reception at a location away from the hubbub of the city at the north end of Wissahickon Park, not far from Terry’s apartment to her joy. It was lit up like a fairyland with twinkling lights covering every tree and a white canopy set up with linen tablecloth covered tables.
They also made sure that every standard wedding reception activity was included in the proceedings, including the father-bride dance, the mother-groom dance, the bridesmaids-ushers dance, the bride-groom dance, and then unfortunately, the maid of honor-best man dance.
“I should kill you,” Terry whispered to Brenda, sitting next to her.
“I told my mother to lay off, bu
t you see what they’ve done. I swear to God, I had nothing to do with any of this.”
But they laughed in spite of it, and Terry got up to dance with Arvin to Cole Porter’s “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.”
“Wow, you look so beautiful,” he said, taking her in his arms. “I was worried you were going to upstage the bride.”
“Not a chance of that,” she said, looking over at the bride’s table. “Brenda’s gorgeous.”
“She really is,” Arvin replied sincerely. “They’re both gorgeous. Her legs don’t stop. Can you imagine those two fucking?”
“Arvin, for Christ’s sake, this is their wedding,” Terry said, frowning, but she did take a second look at the couple as Larry got up from the table and reached for Brenda. “They are amazing.”
“Larry is head over heels about her,” Arvin said. “I mean, real till-death-do-us-part love. I’ll never have that.”
“Arvin, that’s so sad,” Terry said, looking in his eyes for the first time that night. “Why do you think that?”
“I don’t know. I don’t feel like that toward any woman. Larry won’t even make small talk to the nurses. He claims it bores him to death, but I think it’s out of loyalty to Brenda.”
“You haven’t fallen in love yet,” Terry said. “That’s why you feel this way. When the right woman comes along…”
“What about you?” he asked.
“I’m probably never getting married,” she said sadly.
“Why do you say that, Terry? You’re smart and pretty and have a great personality,” Arvin said sincerely.
“I’ve never had a serious boyfriend. You know that. You wouldn’t even give me a chance. At one time I thought that if the circumstances were different, if you’d grow up or get some morals, we might have a chance. But I realized you never loved me, and now I can barely tolerate you.”
They laughed at that.
“But we had fun,” he said, looking intently into her eyes. “You have to admit that. What we did in bed together was good. I wish we could do it again sometime. But that’s not all. The time we spent on the street, people watching and listening to music, that’s about as good as it gets.”
Bittersweets - Brenda and Larry: Steamy Romance Page 8
