by Lindy Dale
“No. I’m just a little horrified.”
Mel passed me the bottle. “Oh don’t be such a prude, it’s nothing worse than they do to us every Saturday night when they feel us up.”
“Yes, but we have clothes on.”
“Just goes to show who the smarter sex are then, doesn’t it? And you have to admit, it’s nice to have one up on them for a change.”
“They were loving it. I hardly think they’re going to care if we tease them.” I stood up. I picked up my clutch. “I’m going for a wee. Back soon.”
“She’s going to find, Sam,” Alex giggled. “She’d never admit it but she has a thing for cowboys.”
*****
Sam was in the change rooms putting his clothes on when I found him. True to form, he was last as usual; the others had gone back to their duties as ‘waiters.’
“That was some performance,” I remarked, trying to sound casual.
Sam turned. He was naked. His skin was damp from the shower and patches of moisture had formed beads on his skin where he was still oiled. He gave me a grin and shook out his hair like a dog. God. Could he look any sexier?
“Did you like it?”
“Frankly, I thought it was disgusting.” I moved closer and reached to run a finger across his bare chest.
“But it made you hot? Right?” A twinkle of mischief sparked in his green eyes.
I was hot all right. And it was his fault. “Sort of.”
Sam wrapped his big arms around me. I felt his biceps tense. The wetness from his body soaked into my top and warmed the space between us. “You do know that in your state, I’d be taking advantage of you if we had sex here. You’re as pissed as a nit.”
“I’m in full control of my faculties,” I giggled and to prove it I let my hand wander down to his crotch. He was hard. Reaching up, I sucked his lip into my mouth and he pulled back.
“Jeez, Mill’,” he whispered. “Who’s doing the seducing here?”
“Well, you are naked. What did you expect?”
With my free hand I brought Sam’s face to mine and kissed him. His lips were hot. They burnt in a way that made me tingly all over. I could feel it right between my legs. His whiskers rubbed against my chin and cheek, the friction as he kissed me back making me want him even more. I moaned.
The next thing I knew, Sam picked me up and wrapping my legs around his waist had carried me into an empty stall. Pushing the door shut with his knee, he reached to lock it. Then he squashed me against the flimsy wall. His mouth went straight to my chest, his hands squeezed my bum, holding me aloft and I moaned again. I felt my breath go shallow as he put his mouth to mine.
“Are you sure about this?” he questioned.
“Want me to talk dirty to prove it?”
Fifteen minutes and thirty-three seconds later I was back in my seat. Sasha had gone to sleep with her head resting on the table and Kirby was putting on rose pink lipgloss. She looked as fresh as a daisy. Beside her, Alex was flicking through pictures she’d taken of the event on her phone deciding which to post on Facebook.
“My, you look a little flushed,” she said, as I dropped into the chair next to her. “You okay?”
“She’s fine. She’s been having a quickie in the loos,” Kirby answered for me.
I blushed and fished a comb out of my clutch.
“See. Can’t hide the truth. She’s not even, like, denying it.”
I looked around the table. “Where’s Mel?”
“Dunno. I think she went to find Johnny.”
“But Mel hates Johnny. The only time they ever converse is when she pours drinks over his head.”
“Like, not anymore,” Kirby giggled, shoving her lipgloss back into her clutch and snapping it closed. She picked up the empty glasses and stacked them on a tray. “In fact, this whole night’s been a bit of a revelation, yeah? I mean, Womble might have found himself a girl; Mel’s got the hots for Johnny. Plus, we raised about four grand for the club, which is totally awesome ‘cause we can, like, get a new heater, and Mel will stop complaining.” She nodded agreeing with herself. “All in all, I think the night’s been a roaring success. Totally.”
Chapter 9
When I woke up the next morning ~ the morning of my first dress fitting ~ I felt as if someone had whipped my brain with an electric beater. Even the herbal migraine tablets Adele shoved into my mouth didn’t work, or rather didn’t have a chance to. I was so sick I threw up twice and the smell of freshly baked bread wafting from the kitchen only made me want to try for a third. Yes, I knew I was hung over, but this was different. I wasn’t all spewy because I’d drunk copious amounts of wine the night before. In fact, I’d felt rather sober when I finally made it home. This was about the dress.
As I sat cradling my cup of weak tea, my mind pondered how a dress could elicit such a powerful physical emotion. I wasn’t the type to become excited over fashion but I was excited about this. And nervous. And anxious. I’d been dreaming about the gown in vivid detail for days now. What if it was hideous?
Tipping the rest of my tea down the sink, I left the kitchen and walked along the hall to my bedroom. There was another reason why I was feeling unusually nervy about the day ahead. A tiny gnawing sensation inside me had been telling me for days that I was selling out. I was giving up my independence for a dress.
When Sam proposed, I’d begun to put money aside. Mum, of course had offered to buy me what ever I wanted ~ within reason ~ and I was happy to let her contribute but the budget hadn’t been limitless and I’d accepted that. I’d seen the designer gowns in Adele’s bridal magazines. I’d noted, with startling clarity, the prices of the ones I liked and I’d come to the sad realisation that they were beyond anything I could ever afford. That was okay. There were many other beautiful gowns in my price range.
Then Sam had heard ~ from Kirby I think ~ about my apparent, like ‘desperate’, need to have a dress by Lisa Ho. God knows what else Kirby had said but being the generous soul he was, he’d offered to pay the difference so that I could have the dress of my dreams. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe how excited I got when I accepted his help or how easily I’d justified backing down on my previous beliefs. I told myself that by wearing a Lisa Ho creation, I wasn’t just living a dream I’d never thought would happen, I was fulfilling the expectation of Sam’s family. I wasn’t walking down the aisle in some moderately priced generic thing. Surely, that would impress them? Surely, they’d realise, at last, that I was the perfect girl for their son?
Then again, maybe it would just add fuel to the ‘gold digger’ fire?
*****
Later that morning, Adele and I stood in front of the glass-etched sign of the bridal shop, my hand on the brushed chrome door pull. This was it. I was about to meet my dress. Taking a deep breath and pushing down the butterflies, I stepped through the door.
My mother and Angus were sitting on the lounge sipping champagne when I walked in. I hadn’t seen Mum in two months and as she put her glass down and stood to wrap me in one of her big Mummy hugs I was overcome.
“Mum!”
“Baby.” She put her lips to my hair. She smelled of White Linen and coconut scented shampoo. “My little baby is going to be a bride.”
“Yep.” I kissed Mum’s cheek and wiped away my tears of happiness. It was true. I was getting married and I had the best boy in the world for my partner. Not only that but everyone I wanted around me for this special time was finally here.
“I missed you,” I smiled. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
“Me too,” said Mum. “Adele and Angus have filled me in on what’s been going on. It’s sounds like it’s going to be a very grand affair. Your father is so excited.”
“But not so excited about the budget, I imagine.”
Dad, though not short of money, was known for being a bit of a tight-arse. If he could re-use that teabag one more time, he would. And Mum, bless her, wasn’t much better. It was a family joke that she recycled g
ift-wrap and cling wrap until they were practically compost. She had a wardrobe filled with every item of clothing and jewellery she’d bought since 1985, none of which she wore but had been keeping in case I might like it when it ultimately came back into fashion ~ unless she still fitted into it, of course. If economising or compromising could save a dollar Mum was right there doing it. I guess that’s how she and Dad got to be so well off. And why I was so surprised at the opening of purses and wallets just because I was getting married.
“For once your father’s cheque book isn’t sending out moths to announce its arrival,” Mum chuckled. “The decree is that his little girl may have whatever she wants. Within reason.”
Ah, the old catch cry ~ ‘within reason’. I could well picture what ‘within reason’ truly meant.
“We’re not having home-made candelabras on the tables, Mum. And you won’t be buying fairy lights from the two-dollar shop or re-using the ones from Dad’s sixtieth birthday. They’re so old they’re a fire hazard. Besides Sam’s family is very picky. They won’t put up with Dad’s cost-cutting measures.”
“But it would be such a waste to buy something new when we have something suitable in the storage container.”
Angus put up a free hand. His nails were manicured in burgundy that day, to match his tie. “Mrs. McIntyre, if I may be so bold, Millicent is quite correct on this occasion. For this wedding … the bling-ier, the better. Our catch phrase is ‘new is all that will do’.”
“So we can’t re-use the silk flower arrangements from our wedding anniversary?” she clarified.
Not unless we wanted everyone to laugh at us.
“No. And they’re the wrong colour, anyway. We’re going with a black and white theme. I’ll ask the girl to show the bridesmaid dress after we finish.” I said.
“Speaking of which,” Angus said, whipping a bubble-wrapped object out of his man-bag, “I’ve got three prototypes for the commemorative plate here. You need to approve one so we can get them printed in time for the gift bags.”
He undid the bubble-wrap revealing three dinner-sized plates, each of which had the words Millicent and Sam 2012 printed around the rim in different colours and a different option for photos of us, the happy couple, plastered in close up in the centre.
“Oh my,” said Adele, “they’re unusual.”
“They’re hideous. Who approved these?” I asked, though I needn’t have bothered. I already knew the answer. The phrase ‘money can’t buy class’ immediately sprang to mind. Too scared to say the name, I eyeballed Angus.
“Well, Sam said he’d rather they be in Hornet’s or Western Force colours….”
“Is that some kind of joke?”
Angus’s face became more serious than ever. “I totally agree Millie - blue and yellow would be a joke. That was why I suggested the font should be gold to match your theme, or a stylish black.”
“No,” I said. “I didn’t mean that. What I mean is I don’t want the plates. Not at all. They’re ridiculous. We’re not Prince William and Kate.”
“What else will we use to fill the gift bags Patricia asked for? The custom labeled wine isn’t enough and I know you don’t like personalised fountain pens.”
“This isn’t a fashion show. It’s my wedding and I don’t want gift bags. You’ll have to ring Patricia and tell her.”
“But I’ve already ordered them. And the Swarovski vases and beer tankards with your names and the date engraved. Vases for the ladies, tankards for the gentlemen.”
It seemed tacky could happen at any price.
“Patricia had better be paying for this because I don’t want my parents forking out for such rubbish.”
“There was no question.”
“What else is she putting in this stupid bag then?”
“Ah, there’s a small thank you note from you and Sam.”
“Fine. I agree with that.”
“And Sam has requested Gold Seating at a Western Force home game for all the guests.”
“What?” Since when had Sam been involved in the wedding planning? A month ago he told me he didn’t care what we did on the day as long as he got a beer and a wife at the end of it. Now he was organising gift bags?
“He wanted scarves too but Amanda said that was ridiculous. She suggested Pandora heart earrings and tie clips to replace it. More stylish.”
I thought I was going to cry. This was my wedding and they were taking over. It wasn’t that I didn’t want them to help or give me ideas but I wanted it to be our wedding in the end. Mine and Sam’s. Not me and Sam and his family. I turned to my mother for support.
“Do we absolutely have to have this humongous affair? Can’t we cancel the whole thing and run away to Bali?”
“I think this one might be beyond us, Millie. You’re marrying into one of the most prominent families in Australia.”
“And that gives them license to fill my every waking hour with crap?”
“No, but we have to be considerate.”
Oh God. I knew she was right. My mother was always right.
“I want it to be tasteful, Mum. Classic, elegant and tasteful. I want to wear your veil and have beautiful photos that won’t look stupid and dated in three years. I don’t want gift bags and string quartets and doves flying out my bum.”
Mum blinked away a few tears and gave me a watery smile. “You want to wear my veil? Oh, Millie. It’s been my dream all these years that you’d want to wear the veil. It was passed down from my mother. She was given it by your great-grandmother, who wore it too. It’s the ultimate hand-me-down.”
“And the colour will go perfectly with my dress.”
“It’ll be your something old,” Adele added. “Which brings my to my contribution… I was wondering if you’d like to borrow my solitaire diamond pendant for the day. If it goes with your dress, of course. Brian gave it to me when Paige was born as my Push Present. It’s a one of a kind, Heart’s Desire cut, designed especially for me by the little man at Sinclair’s.”
Now I was going to cry. “I’d be honored, Adele. You, Brian and the children are like my second family.”
“You’re such a fortunate, girl. You have a wonderful fiancé and fabulous friends and family who want you to have the most stylish, loveliest wedding Perth has ever seen.” Mum hugged me again, then she turned and hugged Adele before taking a hanky out of her purse and blowing her nose three times.
“Does that mean you want me to cancel the white carriages and horses I ordered to convey the guests from the valet parking to the venue? The horses are black. I was going to add white plumes to their heads for extra impact.” Angus asked. I think he was getting the hint that tacky was not on my menu.
“For Pete’s sake,” I cried. “I didn’t want you to order them in the first place. I told you that. Now, can we please try on the dress!”
“That must be my cue.” My skinny little assistant friend, who had been silently blending into the gown rack during this discussion, stood tall. Her face was bright, her eyes gleaming with expectation. She seemed as excited as me about the first fitting. I hadn’t seen her since the meeting with Lisa where we discussed designs but after the amount of emails and texts we’d exchanged in the last few weeks, I felt as if I’d acquired another bridesmaid.
“Let’s go.”
She led me to the dressing room and swished the curtain across blocking me from view of the room. “Strip down to your knickers and bra and I’ll be back in a minute.”
After a minute or so to get my clothes off, she called out from the other side of the curtain. “Is it alright for us to come in now?”
“Okay.”
The assistant pulled the curtain aside. Next to her stood the seamstress who would do the alternations. In her arms she lugged a large white bag. “You’re going to love this,” the seamstress commented as she slid the curtain back along, cocooning the three of us in the tiny cubicle. “I had a little sneaky peak this morning. It’s exactly what you wanted. Of course, if ther
e’s anything you want changed, let me know. I have a lot of pinning and tucking to do but Kirsty will stand by with the clipboard to take notes of any alterations and changes.”
I put my arms up and the assistant, Kirsty, and seamstress stood on step stools on either side of me to lift the dress over my head. It fell softly around my body and even with pins everywhere it felt like me.
They stepped down and the seamstress turned me by the shoulder, carefully pinning the back of the gown together where the buttons would eventually be.
“Right,” she said, “Let’s open up the curtain and show you this gorgeous gown.”
She pulled back the curtain and I walked out to stand in front of the huge full-length mirrors. A gasp of awe came from the couch as I stepped up onto the box and watched as the seamstress adjusted the hemline so that the dress fell in pools around me.
“I’ll pin that to the correct length directly,” she said. “That will give you a better idea of the final look.”
“It’s gorgeous,” my mother sighed.
“Stunning,” said Adele.
“Perfect,” Angus whispered. “And so classic.”
“Do you think Sam will like it?” I asked.
Mum was crying softly into a tissue. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re going to be the most beautiful bride. How could he not like it?”
The gown was strapless with a soft sweetheart neckline. The bodice was pleated French tulle accented with Chantilly lace and an asymmetrical drop waist. It had the beginnings of a tulle skirt with a Chantilly lace hem that flowed along the floor in a chapel length train. It wasn’t big or ballerina-ish. It wasn’t O.T.T modern. It was me.
“It would look perfect with ivory pearl button gloves, sort of vintage fifties style,” the assistant said. “And that would coordinate with the theme for the bridesmaids.”
I was speechless. I blinked and looked at the girl in the mirror. Even in the half finished dress with her spotted knickers showing, she was a Princess.
Chapter 10
