Lady Behind The Wall

"I do not!"

"That's beside the point. I have been meaning to talk to you about our upcoming nuptials for some time. The fact you are here now is convenient. Do sit down."

"I will not!"

"That was not a request." I grabbed her by the arm, hooked a kitchen chair with my foot and none too gently spun her into it. She glared at me with the fury of a tiger brought to bay.

"You dare to treat me this way in my own home – "

"Shut up," I said, the normal level of my voice not masking the 'you-will-obey-me' steel in it. "I have something to say to you and I will be heard. Deirdre and I tried to do this nicely, in accordance with the rules of etiquette. You thought it more appropriate to insult both of us. You've had your chance. Now it's our turn, you harridan.

"Your granddaughter is going to be married in Fort Worth in three days' time. For reasons I frankly do not comprehend given the denigrating way you have treated her over the years, she would like you to be present. If it were up to me I wouldn't let you within a light-year of the ceremony, but I always make the effort to give Deirdre something when she truly wants it.

"You seem to think she has brought shame to your family and disgrace to your clan and deserves to be treated like pond scum. The rest of the family does not agree. They are planning to attend. Deputy Johnny here will walk her down the aisle and give her away in lieu of her deceased father. The service will not be elaborate. We have asked the minister at Fort Worth Christian Hills Church to incorporate Christian elements into the Cherokee rite, to honor her heritage. She respects your traditions even if you do not respect her.

"If you actually give a damn about the family honor, you will be sitting on the bride's side of the aisle, properly attired for the occasion, in three days. Of course, if you are too stiff-necked and arrogant to join your family and forego your hatred of your granddaughter for just one day, you'll be somewhere else and you'll break her heart and look like a stubborn old fool to your clan and sept and the tribe in general." I scaled a wedding invitation onto the kitchen table. After a moment's reflection, I took out my wallet and sent a pair of hundred dollar bills after it.

"That's to pay for fixing your front door. I would not have you saying that we did not make good the damage caused when we barged in here. We hope to see you at the wedding. Deirdre, let's go. I need some fresh air." Pretending not to notice the tears silently running down her cheeks, I led my lady out of the house. Johnny caught up with us a minute later. I looked a question at him.

"I told her two things on my own hook. First, that if she didn't show up at the wedding, nobody in the family would ever speak to her again; and second, that I and the rest of the Department would go out of our way to make her life miserable. Reason may not always work with my grandmother, but enlightened self-interest almost always does. I hope that between us, she got the message."

"We can but hope," I agreed, opening the car door for Deirdre. "Thanks, Johnny. We'll see you in a couple of days at the rehearsal." With one last wave, we left for Fort Worth .

After checking in at the hotel that would also be handling our reception, we drove over to the Fort Worth Christian Hills Church to have our final premarital counseling session with the Reverend Frederick Thomas Worthington and to discuss the ceremony itself with him. I was worried that Deirdre's desire to have a ceremony that was more Native American than conventional dearly-beloved-we-are-gathered-together Christian might pose some problems for him.

I needn't have worried. "Rev Fred," as he is known to his congregation, the Horned Frog jocks of Texas Christian University to whom he's the unofficial chaplain, and the TCU campus generally, is not your everyday man of the cloth. His call to the ministry came after graduatingcum laudefrom TCU and going on to a successful career as an NFL linebacker. Although ordained in the Episcopal Church, he'd broken with them and taken over the nonsectarian FWCHC near his alma mater when his predecessor decided to retire. He never wears the dog collar of a preacher and spends more of his time walking around the campus talking to troubled students and tutoring athletes in fuzzy studies so they can graduate than he does at the rectory working on his sermons. Rev Fred welcomes anyone to his church so long as they come with an open heart and an open mind. Deirdre was a regular congregant and assured me that the rumors of the police investigating him in connection with gambling were nonsense.

I was reassured by the sight of him as we got out of the car. Not much heavier than when he'd played pro ball, his brown eyes twinkled beneath the brush cut he still affected. Ushering us into his office, he settled us onto a couch and served tea, sizing our relationship up and watching us interact. He asked a few questions, mainly covering ground we'd already been over on the phone, before he leaned back in his chair and delivered his verdict.

"John, Deirdre, you've been living together for a year without serious disagreements, with neither of you running around on the other, and with Deirdre staying out of trouble with the law. I think you have an excellent chance of going the distance as a couple. It's a pity you won't be living in Fort Worth so I could see more of you, but that can't be helped. So let's talk about the wedding itself.

"After our last phone call, I did some research. I think I've, you'll forgive the pun, married the traditional Christian ceremony with Cherokee ritual pretty well. Here, take a look at these." He handed over a small stack of papers with colored dots and arrows, reminiscent of the diagrams in a football playbook, explained what each one meant and who would be doing what as the ceremony progressed. We agreed that he'd done an excellent job planning it out.

"The forecast for Saturday is for clear skies, so we'll do it in the garden out back under the open sky, as Cherokee custom demands. The flowers are in bloom, and I've arranged with some of the Frogs to carry the gazebo out of the center of the garden, set up the chairs as required and put everything back the was it was afterwards. The walkways are in the shape of a cross coming to the circle in the middle of the garden, which ties in to the Cherokee ceremony. Have you thought about music?"

"Yes," I said. "We'll use a sound system, as you can't move the organ out of the sanctuary. We've decided on "Elsa's Procession to the Cathedral" and "The Wedding March" from Lohengrin for the processional, and John Williams' "The Throne Room and End Title" from Star Wars for the recessional. Will that fit in with what you have worked out?"

"An unusual mixture of traditional and modern, but those numbers should work well together. Don't worry about renting the sound system. I know some people and I'll take care of that for you. All you'll need to do is pay the bill.

"I presume you have explained to the members of the wedding party that some of them will have speaking parts and that they will be actively involved in the ceremony?"

"We've arranged all of that," Deirdre assured the Rev. "Aunt Cloud and my cousin Johnny will act in lieu of my parents, John's sister Cynthia will stand in for his mother, and our groomsmen and bridesmaids know they'll have roles to play. We can get it all straight at the rehearsal."

"All right. I'll expect you and the supporting players here tomorrow at 6:00. We'll run through it a couple or three times to get it down, and then at 2:00 on Saturday we'll do it."

"You are planning to come to the rehearsal dinner and the reception, aren't you, Rev?" asked Deirdre as we stood up.

Rev Fred grinned as he saw us to the door. "I wouldn't miss it."

The members of the wedding party and our wedding guests began to trickle in to the hotel. Ronnie and Joey were the first to arrive, having driven from Arizona. My brother William – he was so much older he'd never been Bill or Billy to me, but always William – his wife and my cousins and their teenagers flew up from Houston in the corporate jet that belonged to his oil exploration firm. My sister Cynthia and her husband came by commercial air from California. The cases of wine for the reception from their organic vineyard were already in the hotel cellar, having been sent on ahead. Natasha, Richard, Johann and Bella arrived as a group. Dinner was a convivial affair, and lunch even more so as Deirdre's relations from Oklahoma arrived en masse in a car convoy reminiscent of football fans driving to the big game. It was shaping up to be a fun party as well as a joyous occasion.

The next morning found Deirdre and me standing in the lobby in hunting clothes with cased shotguns on the floor. Johnny, Charlie, and Iotay were with us. They were likewise dressed and equipped, and we were impatiently waiting for William to join us. Walking out of the dining room, Cynthia took in our collective fashion statement and frowned at us.

"And where are you lot bound for, dressed à la Dick Cheney?" Cynthia is a typical Left Coast Liberal. She does not approve of guns, hunting, fishing, wearing furs or anyone who does any of these. When I was a kid and she came for visits, I'd always made it a point to leave copies of Guns & Ammo and The American Rifleman on the nightstand in the guest room just to drag her chain. One Christmas, I gave her the present of a different game roast delivered to her house once a month for a year. We've never seen eye to eye on these issues.

"We're going to a game ranch an hour from here," I said. "Deirdre and I like wild game and so do many of those attending. The wedding feast menu on Saturday will in part be determined by the luck we have today. But don't worry. Unlike Cheney, if we shoot anybody it will be on purpose."

She started to swell up like an angry cobra, but a potential fight was defused by the arrival of William, zipping up his hunting vest and carrying a Purdy broken open over his arm. Before Cynthia could start in again, Deirdre was herding us out to the waiting limo, giving me a sidelong look I could not read. I do not think she had ever seen me bait anyone before.

It was as good a hunt as we had any right to expect at a game ranch, given we were shooting for the table at farm raised birds and ranched deer. At the end of the day, we'd made our quotas of pheasant and venison. The steak on the menu would be arranged for by the hotel. We returned to our base, cleaned our weapons and sat in the bar until the wee hours telling outdoor tales, a continuation of the reminiscences back at Aunt Cloud's. I enjoyed it tremendously.

Deirdre was putting on the finishing touches to her makeup before the rehearsal the next day when I knocked on our door and entered the suite. After living together for a year, we felt the rule that said the groom wasn't supposed to see the bride until she appeared at the altar was irrelevant. She smiled at me in the mirror.

"I've got something for you, " I said. I handed her the polished mahogany box I'd brought. She opened it and her eyes got big as she carefully lifted out what it contained and set it on her head.

It was a tiara of glittering clear zircons and sapphires of nearly as deep a blue as her eyes. The stones flashed blue and white fire as she moved in the light. Eyes brimming, she looked at me.

"I knew you'd need something to hold the wedding veil on, so I had this made up. I hope you like it. It's not as expensive as it looks. The stones are all lab-grown, not natural, it was the only way to get the colors I wanted –" Deirdre stopped my speech by flinging herself into my arms and kissing me, the tears spilling down her cheeks, her arms tight around me.

"Oh, John! Don't run it down! It's beautiful. When I was a girl and I fantasized about my dream wedding, I always was wearing a tiara. You never spend money you don't have or that would overextend the household, so I don't ever need to know what it cost. You're making my dream come true, my love. I feel like a princess."

"You are my princess," I murmured into her ear, inhaling the fragrance of her hair, my hands caressing her through the Balenciaga dress she'd worn on her release day, one she liked and knew was one of my favorite items in her wardrobe.

"And your slut, and your slave, your mistress and your lover, John. I am whatever you want me to be. I am yours, now and always, with or without a ceremony to confirm it."

"As I am yours. But we'd better get a move on or I'm likely to take that dress off you and take you right here, and we shouldn't be late for the rehearsal."

She kissed me again, lightly stroking my penis. "There's always later, if you don't stay up too late. No bachelor party?"

"I asked Richard not to. Why would I need a party with strippers and lap-dancers when I have you to come home to?"

"You say the nicest things, kind sir. But you're right, we have to get going."

The rehearsal went as well as such things always do. Charlie MacLean and William had both served as groomsmen before, but they had to adapt to the Native American seating customs we were using. It's more than knowing the immediate family gets the pews down front, groom's friends on the right facing the altar and the bride's friends on the left. A major difference is that the Cherokee do weddings in the round. Seating depends not so much on who you are to the couple, but rather on your status within the tribe.

The celebrant is in the center of the circle facing south, and the bride and groom enter the circle from the south. Elders of the family and the tribe are seated to the north so they can see the faces of the couple. Young men not yet proven in battle are in the east. Warriors are placed in the west. Married couples are to the south, as are any children. We had made it clear we expected none who were not of legal age; we'd specified "adults only, no exceptions" on the invitations. (I figured the last thing we needed was some brat piping up, "Mommy, is he spreading the pollen on her now?" when the groom kissed the bride, or some infant going off like an air raid siren midway through the ceremony.)

The Rev had modified the custom somewhat. Instead of standing as the Indians do it, everyone would be seated. The elders would be in the north, mine in the northeast and Deirdre's in the northwest. Friends of the bride would be in the southwest, friends of the groom in the southeast. Not hard to remember once they got used to it, although my groomsmen would have to study the photos of the 'elders' we expected so as to know who rated the northern chairs. They also received coaching from Aunt Cloud in the proper way to brush the bundles of sage over the attendees as they entered the garden, a ritual purification integral to the ceremony. I just hoped nobody who was coming had hay fever.

After four run-throughs, The Rev was satisfied all would go right on the morrow. We repaired to a steak house half a mile away and enjoyed a fine feed of corn-fed Texas beef, any way you liked it, from steak tartare to barbequed ribs to a 32 ounce sirloin to that Texan oddity, the chicken-fried steak in cream gravy. Lubricated by Samuel Adams and dark imported beers and greased by good ol' Southern corn squeezins, we partied until the owner threw us gently out at closing time. A good omen.

On the way back to the hotel in the limousine we had reserved for the weekend, I remembered something important I'd forgotten to take care of and started rummaging in my pockets. Deirdre watched me, both of us half in the bag, as I finally found what I was looking for. I handed it to Deirdre. She looked at it curiously.

It was an English sterling silver sixpence from 1915, minted during the reign of King George V. She looked at it, and then at me.

"And what am I supposed to do with an old British coin?"

"You know the old rhyme for insuring a happy marriage?"

"Of course! Every woman knows that. 'Something old, something new; something borrowed, something blue.' Why?"

"You have it covered?"

"Yes. 'Something old' is the family wedding veil I got from Aunt Cloud, since she was the last Little Fox to get married. It passes from bride to bride in the family. 'Something new' is my wedding dress. 'Something borrowed' is the lace handkerchief I borrowed from Tasha. And 'something blue' is the blue lacy garter I will be wearing, even if you don't count the sapphires in my tiara, darling. Are you going somewhere with this?"

"You don't have everything covered. I didn't think you would."

"What do you mean?"

"In America, almost no one knows the whole cantrip. It's very old. It goes back to the time of the Puritans at least and possibly is much older than that. In England, where is originated, the poem goes, 'Something old and something new; Something borrowed, something blue; A silver sixpence in her shoe.' Some people say that it's a magic spell to insure a happy, prosperous marriage, not a rhyme. According to legend, a bride who has a silver sixpence in her shoe will never run out of money. It comes from an old fable, Scottish I believe, about a poor girl without a dowry who was blessed by a fairy she freed from a trap in an act of kindness. Every time she trod the ground with her bare left foot, a silver sixpence would appear in her footstep. Accumulate two sixpences, and you have a shilling. Twenty shillings used to equal a pound sterling before the Brits changed over to decimal coinage. In an era when plenty of families didn't see twenty pounds in a year, a silver sixpence was nothing to sneeze at."

I closed her fingers over the sixpence. "Just be certain you put that sixpence in your left slipper tomorrow, okay? It wouldn't do to offend the Faerie Folk." Deirdre smiled tolerantly at me and pulled my head to her shoulder, stroking my hair.

"My darling John, you are squiffed. But I promise I will put the sixpence in my shoe if it will make you happy." That was the last thing I remembered as I faded into a drunken sleep.

Next morning, I finished fastening Father's diamond studs in my starched tuxedo shirt and glanced at the tux jacket hanging with its boutonniere on the edge of the closet. Deirdre was in our bedroom, attended by her maid of honor Ronnie and bridesmaids Amanda and Cleo, presumably having her hair made up, her makeup put on and the fifty-'leven other things done to brides to ready them for their big day. Picking up my tie, I walked to the door and knocked. Ronnie opened it and frowned a question.

"I need to borrow Deirdre for a minute," I explained, holding up my tie. She snorted knowingly and called sarcastically, "Dee-Dee, your future lord and master, he to whom you are less than the dust beneath his chariot wheels, can't figure out how to tie a bow tie. Please go and help the poor benighted soul." To the accompaniment of female laughter, and with a smile on her own face, Deirdre, clad in a silk dressing gown, followed me to the bedroom I'd appropriated to dress in. I closed the door behind us and clicked the lock. She came to me and we kissed, my hands sliding beneath the silk to caress her skin and cup the firm buttocks below her corset as she ran her fingers though my hair.

"Mmmmm," she purred. "It's a shame we have to wait. I'd love to have you make me cum right now."

"That's what I have in mind, slave." I led her to the bureau and opened a drawer. "Look inside." She did. The drawer held a pair of ben-wa balls and a butt plug whose length and diameter approximated that of my prick at full erection and a tube of lube.

"Go into the bathroom and put in the plug and the balls. You may not remove them until after the ceremony. It is my wish that you be reminded of what it is like to be filled with hard cock as we are wed. You are not to tell anyone that they are there. You may cum as often as you like, provided no one can tell you are. This is my special gift to you, my slut, and yours to me."