The Wedding Dress

(Dedicated to Margaret (my Margarita) for her patience with me, for her strength and her wisdom, for bringing out all my innermost secrets, and most of all, for teaching me the meaning of devotion and love as only another woman can understand.)

*

It was morning ... that was obvious. I could see the first rays of sunshine streaming into the room through the openings in the drapes that had not been totally closed. The rays acted somewhat like a beacon lighting up the room. I could see the little particles of dust dancing in the golden rays of sunshine that are somehow always there ... no matter how well the room is cleaned and dusted. I remember waking up as a young girl, trying to shrug off the sleepiness in my eyes and watching the same rays of sunshine with the little particles of dust and wondering to myself ... 'what would this new day bring.'

I looked up at this beautiful female face above me sitting in a straight backed chair from my kneeling position on the floor. "Even in the morning just getting out of bed, she is very beautiful," I thought to myself. The female face above me has a perfectly oval shape. She had high cheeks bones that really were the highlight of her face. She had a perfect nose ... so perfect an artist couldn't improve on it. Her lips were full and ... sensuous! Whenever I watched movement of those beautiful lips forming 'words' my heart would start to beat faster and I would hang on to every last syllable of the sound. Her skin was flawless with the external tissue layer containing just enough pigment to give it a perpetual light tan appearance. She had auburn hair and its reddish brown color was 'natural' ... it didn't come out of a bottle ... and fell down just below her neck line. But it was her eyes ... the eyes that could capture you and keep you prisoner for the rest of your life! They were a very light bluish-green, almost as warm as a bright summer sky, yet ... they could be cold as steel!

She sat there looking down at me. Her perfectly manicured hands were resting on the top part of her knees. Her nails were highly polished in a light lilac color ... "no doubt to match her negligee," I thought. Then her lips started to move. And as usual, my heart started to beat faster as the movement of her lips turned to sound.

"Well my little feline kitten, did you leave your manners in your cage this morning?" said the female voice above me in that 'questioning' tone of voice that always sent tremors of fear through me.

"I ... I ... no, Madame ... I ...," the first feelings of fear and humbleness that I felt this new day was making it hard for my words to come out. Then, almost as though in slow motion, I saw the beautiful manicured hand rise up to the 'voice's' side ... and the lips moved again.

"I? ... I? ... Is that what I heard? I ...?", the questioning tone of the female voice above said again, only this time in a tone that got higher every time a word left the sensual lips and turned into sound.

I heard the 'sloosh' of the beautiful manicured hand cutting through the stillness of the air in the room. I felt a stinging pain on my face even before I heard the sound of the slap. I felt the tears begin to swell up in my eyes as I bowed my head just a little in shame. "I've been bad again," I thought to myself. "Why else would I be punished?"

Then I heard the female voice above me again, only this time it was much harsher ... the tone of voice I always heard when I knew I was going be told something very important and I had better listen. "You have five minutes to keep your head down and your eyes on my feet contemplating the situation you find yourself in this morning before I have to take further action. Start now!"

As I started to lower my head in obedience to the 'voice' I glanced at the legs of this beautiful woman who sat in this chair with a very sheer violet colored negligee on. I knew her well enough by now to know her favorite scent of perfume was 'lilac.' "The scent of her perfume fits in perfectly with the color of her negligee," I thought in admiration for her perfection. The negligee was parted just enough to afford me a small view of her thighs. "God," they are beautiful," I thought as I saw the thickness of them. Her thighs tapered down to very beautiful calves ... "just enough muscle to tantalize someone, but still feminine enough to win any contest she could ever enter 'for the most attractive legs'" I thought.

My eyes finally reached their destination as I had been instructed by the 'voice.' I fixed my eyes on her feet. They were encased in highly polished patent leather high heels shoes. "Very seldom did I ever see her in anything but high heels," I thought to myself. The shoes were toeless, and her perfectly pedicured toes, the nails also in a highly glossy lilac color, were clearly visible to my eyes.

As I kept my eyes fixed on her feet, my mind began to drift ... drift backward in time. "How did I get here," I thought to myself. Whether caused by the hard slap to my face I had just received, or by the shame I felt for making some kind of error was not too clear in my mind right now. But I felt as though I was in a light mist and my thoughts processes were being challenged. "How did all this start," my mind was asking me ... and I was searching for the answer as I drifted back in time ...

______*****____

I looked at my wrist watch while starting the car. "Damn, it was already 9 a.m., and I had an appointment at 9:30 to get fitted for my wedding ensemble. Well, ok," I thought to myself, "take it easy Dottie ... at least it wasn't a wedding gown. So it should be pretty easy."

"But why did I have to go for my wedding ensemble the day before my wedding," I kept thinking as I was trying to negotiate yet another traffic jam. "Well, anyway that's what Richard told me. But I would have liked to have Jesse with me. After all, Jesse was my best girlfriend in the world," my mind was still going a mile a minute. "Jesse was the only woman I ever had an 'affair' with and I missed that part of our relationship," I was thinking.

I had known Jesse since we were teenagers. We went to elementary, high school and even college together. But it wasn't until college that we discovered our true feelings for one another. It was at college that we had our really first 'girl to girl' full blown contact that lead to an explosive orgasm for each of us. Jesse was always much more assertive than I was, and she had taken the 'lead' in bringing this part of our relationship to fruition. After that, we practically were inseparable ... until she got married. "God, I missed this part of Jesse so much," I was thinking. "But Jesse is married now, has two kids and we really don't see that much of each other anymore," I was trying to modify my own thoughts, trying as best I could to get my mind back on the events that would be taking place tomorrow. "But she was helping me a little with my wedding and I would have liked to have her with me today."

I had met Richard just one year ago tomorrow. We were getting married on the one year anniversary from the day we met. "Neat," I thought to myself. "We met and are getting married on sort of our anniversary." For some reason, that thought seemed to cheer me up a little. I really didn't care for Richard the first few times we dated. "Oh, it wasn't because he wasn't handsome. God, there were a lot of girls that would kill to be getting married to him," again my mind was working overtime. "At first he just seemed kind of snobbish, you know, the uppity class that came from wealth ... maybe even a bit eccentric. One year after we are married, Richard would be getting his share of a trust fund his grandfather had set up for him. Well over twenty-five million dollars. Not bad for a girl that had to work her way through college."

I turned right onto Crestwood Boulevard. "Oh shit, now traffic is coming to a complete stop," I thought as I glanced again at my wrist watch. "Damn, 9:25 ... how the hell am I ever going to get there in time for my appointment."

While I was stopped, my thoughts turned to myself. "Hey, I'm 28 years old and never been married. All my girlfriends were married, some even had kids. And here I was ... 28 years old and my first marriage. Oh yeah, I could have gotten married many times. After all, I wasn't the last fish in the ocean. I won a few beauty pageants in college, even was the runner up in state finals. Heck, I worked out every day and ran at least 5 miles on weekends. And I was just starting to get to the top of the corporate ladder in the advertising agency I worked for. That is until Richard insisted on my quitting to get married. He said he didn't want me working after we were married."

I felt a lot better about myself now ... maybe even a little conceited. "Hell," I thought to myself, "Richard is the guy that is lucky. Shit, he's lucky to be getting a girl like me! Damn, I could have had anyone I wanted also."

I picked up the business card Richard had given me. 'Margarita's Custom Fittings' the card read. 'Twenty-five Valley Green Street.' I picked up my cell phone. "Better call," I thought. "The way this traffic is I will be lucky to get there at 10 a.m." As I looked down at the business card I realized there wasn't a phone number. "What the hell, no phone number. Shit, Richard gave me a phone number on a piece of paper to call my measurements in so they could get started on my wedding ensemble. How come the card doesn't have a number?"

I ruffled through my open purse. I kept taking things out and just throwing them on the opposite car seat. "Oh fuck, I must have left the damn phone number at home," I concluded.

Then I saw it. 'Green Valley Street' the street sign on the telephone pole read. I quickly turned right on the street. "Oh good, not too much traffic here," I thought. I passed a few shops that seemed to be empty and there it was, 'Margarita's Custom Fittings.' I pulled my car to a stop and picked up the business card again.

'Margarita' ... "hhhmmmm ... why does that name do something to me? 'Margarita,' 'Margarita,' damn what a pretty name," I thought. "How the hell did I get stuck with a common name like Dottie ... 'Margarita,' 'Margarita' ... the name sounds so much like royalty ... maybe even something someone would kind of associate with aristocracy or beauty."

I pulled myself out of my self-imposed daydreaming about this person's name and got out of the car. As I walked up to the store front I noticed there wasn't much of a display in the window ... couple pair of shoes and a few dresses. "Odd," I thought.

When I finally got to the store, the front door was solid wood. I turned the door knob only to find out it was locked. I looked on the side of the door and there was a little speaker box with a button below it. "OK," I thought to myself, "I saw these things before." I pushed the button and a female voice came out of the speaker box.

"Yes ..." the female voice said ... that's all! No 'can I help you?'... No 'what do you want?' ... nothing ... just a 'yes.' For some reason it caught me off guard.

"Ah ... ah, this is Dottie ... ah, you know ... Richard's bride to be," I spoke into the microphone part of the speaker box. "I had an appointment for nine ... ah ... I got stuck in ...,"

"Yes ... I know ... I will unlock the door from inside. When you hear the click come in," the female voice came out of the speaker again. "Damn, she sounds like she is all business. She didn't even give me a chance to finish speaking," I thought.

I heard the 'click' of the door being unlocked, turned the handle and entered. It was kind of dim inside and as I closed the door, I heard the lock being reset and then relocked. I looked around. There wasn't much in here. It just seemed like it was mostly fabric, material, and a few mannequins. I looked around for somebody and didn't see anyone. A shiver ran through me just for a moment. "A warning" I thought. "Is this my 'woman's instinct' telling me that something is not right here? I better get the fuck out of here. But shit, my wedding is tomorrow and I need my wedding ensemble," my mind continued working.

I walked about half way up the store aisle and saw what appeared to be a customer counter of sorts. There was a woman standing about three feet from the counter with her back toward me. She appeared to be going through some papers.

"Hi," I said in as pleasant a voice as I could muster up. "My name is Dottie ... ah ... Richard's ..."

"You're late," came the reply from the woman with her back to me. Nothing else. Not a word. Just a 'you're late'! I waited for a few seconds ... then a few seconds more ... then a minute. Nothing! Not another word! While I was waiting for what seemed an eternity, I looked at the woman with her back to me. She was dressed in what appeared to be a two piece suit with matching top and short skirt. It was a very light cream color, had what appeared to be very tiny iridescent glitter of some kind scattered about the material that seemed to sparkle with every tiny movement she made. It had to be made of very sheer material because it was practically transparent. I could clearly see the form of her legs from her ankles to her thighs. I could even see her panty outline.

"It upsets me when people are late," the woman said in a very straight forward voice.

"My God," I thought. "No one has spoken to me like this since I was a child. Not even my former corporate supervisor who I always thought was a real asshole."

"Well ... I mean ... ah ... you know the ... ah ... traffic was ... I mean I ... ah ... kind of did get a ... little late start ... but," I was trying my best to answer. But my words were getting jumbled up. Everything that was coming out of my mouth seemed to be not good enough. "What the hell is wrong with me," I thought. "Why the hell am I feeling so ... so intimidated!"

"And I absolutely abhor excuses," the woman replied but her harsh tone of voice seemed to have changed to a more 'teaching' tone of voice ... straight forward but a little softer.

"Well then ... I guess ... ah ... I guess I should ... say I'm sorry," I finally got the words out a little better this time and that make me feel a little less intimidated. The woman turned and took a few steps in front of me.

"My God, she is beautiful," I thought. The light seemed to shine right on her reddish brown hair. Her face was one that I was used to looking at in 'glamour' magazines. And the top of her two piece suit was a sight to behold. I could clearly see the dark bra through her button down top. The bra itself seemed to be straining to hold her breasts from escaping their confines. The front of the suit was cut so low I could clearly see at least two ... no, maybe three inches of cleavage. As she took another step toward me, my inquisitive mind kept evaluating her.

She was tall. "Thirty-five years old ... hhmmmm ... maybe a little older?" I was thinking. "Certainly not older than forty ... five foot, ten ... well, maybe even five foot, eleven ... but, allowing for the high heels, maybe five foot, ten ... certainly a few inches taller than I am ... my God, her eyes are beautiful ... color, what color are they ... blue or green ...or are they gray ... no maybe blue-gray ...," my mind kept going like a run-away freight train.

"My name is Miss Margarita," the woman said as she took another step closer and I could really see how much taller she was than me. And I could even appreciate her beauty better from this closer vantage point.

'Margarita' ... the name shot through me like a bullet piercing my heart. The name ... and now the woman herself looked familiar. "Why does this name have this kind of effect on me," I was thinking to myself. 'Somehow, I think I know her, but ... but surely if I knew her it wasn't likely that I would forget her."

"Oh ... hi Marg ... ah ... Margarita. My name is Dottie ... Dottie West. You know ... ah ... well, Richard's bride to be," I said again in a very nervous manner just not being able to control myself no matter how hard I tried. "Why the fuck am I stuttering so damn much," I thought to myself upset at my inability to control the sound of my voice.

'Dottie ... Dot ... tie ... d o t t i e ... is that correct?" Margarita asked in a tone of voice someone would use when teaching a young child as she spelled out my name letter by letter.

"Ah ... yes, Dottie, yes, that's ... right ... ah, correct, Margarita," I answered trying to sound a little more intelligent by changing the word 'right' to 'correct' unconsciously following Margarita's example.

Margarita moved very close to me and put her hand up to my hair kind of flipping it around a little bit. "Your hair texture is very good, Dot ... tie." Margarita was separating my name into two distinct syllables in a somewhat demeaning manner. What color is it?" Margarita asked me.

I didn't linger very long on the thought of how she was pronouncing my name. Margarita seemed to never give you too long to think about anything unless the 'time allotment' was to her advantage. "It's black Margarita ... well, it seems to have a little bit of brown in it so I guess it's really like a dark brown," I answered.

"Yes, I can see that," Margarita said as she cupped her hand under my chin and turned my face toward her. "You have a pretty face too, not beautiful mind you, but pretty," Margarita continued as she let go of my chin.

"Now why did she have to say that," I thought to myself. "What does all this have to do with my wedding ensemble?" Yet there seemed to be a little subtle exchange taking place between us. Almost like a change of authority, or of power, and the feeling was becoming somewhat seductive to me.

"And you look like you are height weight proportional. Do you exercise every day?" Margarita asked again in that inquisitive 'teacher' tone of voice. "Let's see ... hhmmm ... I would guess you're twenty-five, maybe twenty-six years of age."

"Why do I feel so damn obligated to answer these types of questions," I was thinking to myself. "Why do I find myself trying to please or impress this woman?" I was beginning to feel as though somehow a switch had been triggered in my brain and now a very secret part of me that I as unfamiliar with was beginning to surface and was exposing itself to this beautiful woman.

"Ah, yes, I do exercise ... ah, a few times a week. But I do run at least five miles on weekends. Ah ... I'm 28 years old," I answered.

"Good, you have a good figure for someone your age, and it's good to exercise. You want to keep yourself fit you know," Margarita replied to me.

"Wow ... she was pleased with me," I thought to myself. For some reason I felt relieved. I felt as though a weight was lifted off my shoulders or that I had passed some kind of test. "Why was her approval so important to me," I continued thinking to myself.

"We will get started with your fitting in a minute but first I have a question to ask you," Margarita said in a very serious sounding tone of voice. "Do you remember how I introduced myself to you a few minutes ago?" she continued, changing the tone of her voice to a soft inquisitive tone.

The question caught me completely off guard. Try as I may, the only thing I could remember was the name. Yet I felt frightened. "Why?" I asked myself in my mind. "Why was this so important?" For some reason I 'knew' it was important. It was the way Margarita asked it. It was the aristocratic inquisitive tone of voice she had used when she asked the question.

"Do I remember ... ah ... how you introduced yourself?" I answered trying to clarify the question I was just asked.

Margarita looked straight at me with those eyes ... the eyes that looked as though they had been somehow manufactured to fit her perfect face. Then she smiled. It was the first time today that I had actually seen her smile and for some reason it made my heart beater a little faster.