Always a Bridesmaid Pt. 01

This is part one of a longer story that I have been working for a while, it takes an old trope and creates something fun and realistic out of it. I used Grammarly and done proofreading so hopefully it's good as is. Enjoy!

You always want what you can't have right? And the more you cannot have it, the more you want it, and it can even develop into an obsession. Okay, maybe that last part was a little melodramatic, but the point is still perfectly valid. In my case, my fixation was my best friend Paula, whom I have known since kindergarten. I always had a slight crush on her, and who wouldn't? She is a 5 '6, well-proportioned brunette with dark brown eyes, the kind that you almost can't see the pupils, which gives her eyes this hypnotic quality that I love. We have claimed that we could almost be sisters, but she is white and I am half-Mexican. I remember how I got the news, she called me one Sunday evening as I was sitting outside with a glass of merlot. I picked up the phone, hoping it wasn't yet another telemarketer telling me that my vehicle warranty was expiring!

When I looked at the display of my iPhone, a headshot of Paula met my gaze, her image sporting a dazzling smile. I recognized the picture. I had cropped it out of a shot I took when we vacationed in Cabo some years before, celebrating her graduation from law school and me landing my dream job doing PR at a huge firm in town. I touched the screen with my index finger and held it up to my ear. "Hey you, you've been radio silent lately. Has Jackie boy told you not to hang out with your lesbian bestie?" I said with a raucous laugh.

"Very funny smartass, just had a lot going on this week, a couple huge cases that fortunately went my way. If I keep this up, they said they would make me a partner." Paula said, her voice lilting as she spoke, sounding almost musical. I could listen to that voice for hours.

"Well that sounds great, I could move in and live off you for the next ten years!" I said, smacking my lips and licking the residue of my last sip of red wine off.

Paula paused for a moment, making me raise an eyebrow, fearing she was going to say something ominous, like she had been diagnosed with cancer, or was moving away. "Um, nice thought, but I might not have as much say over that soon. Jackson proposed to me last night." she said, inshort choppy phrases.

"Oh, sweetie, that's amazing and wonderful! I am so happy for you!" I said, biting my lip until it almost bled. On one hand, I was. delighted because I knew that was something she wanted, a husband, a home, and a family. Another part of me was instantly worried that it would make us more distant from one other. Her boyfriend--now fiance--always felt distant to me, like he was tolerating my presence, or, even worse, saw me as a threat.

I heard Paula giggle like a schoolgirl at my response, which I found adorable and even sexy, but still in a platonic way. She could be a bit strait-laced and even uptight at times, but beneath that persona was a girl who loved big and was fiercely loyal. "That means a lot to me, I absolutely adore you and just cannot imagine my life without you. I really need you to be right next to me through all of this, it will be crazy and stressful! Will you be my maid of honor?" she said, her voice rising to almost a squeal at the end.

"I would love that! And it would piss me off if you asked anyone else!" I said, now bursting into a fit of giggles that was quite unlike me. A thousand emotions swirled around inside me like some kind of rainstorm amplified by high winds. What was I feeling? Delight that I would get so much dedicated one-on-one time with her? Worry that I would have difficulty containing her own shifting emotions? Fear that this might just make her somewhat paranoid husband-to-be openly hostile? And another deep-seated fear that I would lose the closeness that we had quite literally shared for decades. Was that a fear of loss? I truly did love her, as my best friend, my co-conspirator, my confidante, and the one person I was completely open with. And as was the case for many gay girls, a deeply hidden crush on her straight best friend; not like I-am-madly-in-love-with-her, but not completely platonic either. When I found my emotions about her confusing, I just pushed them as far into the back of my mind as I possibly could.

"Oh I would never want to piss you off, that Latina blood of yours burns too hot and scares me to death." she teased.

"Half-Latina, but the other half had Irish in it so that might make it worse!" I said loudly, laughing at her response.

Paula paused again, which made me worry that she could sense my worries. She had an uncanny ability to pick up on other people's feelings, but in my case, she could sense it from the other side of the planet. The silence lingered a few more seconds before she spoke again.

"Hey Carli?" she asked, using the nickname that only she was allowed to use.

"Yeah, babe?"

"There is no one in this world more important to me than you. Absolutely no one. You know that right?" Paula asked, her voice filled with uncertainty.

"Well Jackie boy might disagree, he will be your husband after all," I answered, not wanting to dampen her seriousness, but also raising a point that could contradict her assertion. I never called her boyfriend that out in public, but between the two of us it was a running joke.

"Yes I love him, but there are lots of things he will just never ever get, but you do, and you will. It's not one or the other, I need you both. You are my best friend." Paula said, in a sweet but encouraging voice.

"Well he doesn't have good fashion sense, that's for damn sure. You need me to help you pick out a killer wedding dress." I said, trying not to imagine how drop-dead sexy she would end up looking.

"Damn straight! Nite, chica!" Paula chimed in, hanging up after.

I was about to toss the now-dark phone on the glass living room table in front of my black leather couch, but remembering the photo that came up on the call, I started searching for the original picture. It was one of my all-time favorites.

When the full image popped up on the screen, I broke into a wide grin and laughed softly to myself. There we were, the both of us, a few years younger, standing up against a tiki bar on the beach near our hotel. My black bikini was a little on the daring side, high cut bottoms that displayed my curvy hips and a lot of my ass, and a top that held my generous breasts perfectly, showing them off, but not obscenely. Paula's swimsuit was a dark navy blue, not showing nearly as much of her perfect skin but revealing the best parts of her feminine form in the most wonderful way.

"Hmm." I said, suddenly noticing something in the picture I had completely forgotten about. Standing on her left, my hand was out of view, which at first I had assumed meant that I had it around her waist, but that was clearly not the case. I remembered that she had not been smiling as much as I thought she should be, so I had grabbed her ass cheek in my hand and squeezed it, making her gasp and making her break into a huge smile, one that I had never seen on her face ever before or since.

The vividness of that memory washed over me like a high wave, bringing back the feel of the wind on my face, the hair tickling the back of my neck and the feel of her ass on my hand. Suddenly the recollection ran in slow motion, my palm cupping her curvy bottom, with so much bare skin against my hand. While it was all in fun, there was an intimacy to that moment between the two of us. Of course, there were others around, the local gentleman taking the picture itself, the bystanders watching it all happen, and all the beachgoers just walking around.

The core of that moment, though, was just us--her and me, in our own little private bubble, experiencing something just between the two of us. I remember her giggling and jumping, startled at the unexpected contact, scolding me, but not pulling away or telling me to stop. Caressing her, not as a friend, but as a lover, her face momentarily showing something that looked like enjoyment. From me. MY touch. At least for a fraction of a second, but that somehow made it real all the same.

I would be lying if I said I had never entertained sexy thoughts about my best friend, but I have resisted the temptation to indulge in those fantasies too often. I zoomed in on her image, letting my eyes drift over her form, her sexiness, and her raw unfiltered beauty. I have joked and (mostly) teased her about what was missing out on, though I would never try to push her into something she didn't want.

Secretly, I have had lascivious moments where I wanted to whisper sexy things into her mind, watching them take root and lead her into wondering, questioning, enough fascination to let me kiss her, touch her, and make love to her. Feeling her lips quiver as I give her the first taste of another woman's lips, hearing her gasp as my hands cup her breasts and caress her ass, feeling her body surrender as I bury my tongue inside her, taking her to sexual heights she never imagined possible. I hadn't intended to slip into a sexual fantasy about Paula, it kind of snuck up on me, but the vividness of the memory overpowered everything else.

As my eyes closed slowly, my thoughts were racing with the image of caressing Paul's smooth bottom, her head turning so my lips could claim hers, lips brushing, touching, and then pressing together. Feeling her sigh into the kiss, MY kiss, my lips caressing hers as her body trembled in my arms. Surrendering to me, giving in to me, lips parting, voices moaning as only true lovers can do.

Not content to stop there, I slipped my lips to her neck, knowing just how much of a turn-on that was for her, whispering how gorgeous she was and how much I yearned to pleasure her. Our tongues danced as I removed her top slowly, cupping her breasts, feeling her shiver as I caressed her. Listening to the sexy sounds she made as I worshiped her breasts, seconds before I slipped off my own top and pushed mine against hers gently.

Paula's nipples tightened as mine pressed into hers, giving her a powerful and delicious sensation that was completely new to her while still kissing passionately. Shifting my footing slightly, I slid my leg between hers, slowly and gently so as not to startle her. I slipped my hands over her still-clothed ass and pulled her up against my leg, not letting her move. Holding her still, I began to slowly move my hips in a gentle but insistent rhythm. Breaking the kiss, I pulled back just a bit so our eyes locked. I wanted us looking into each other's eyes as we made love, as we fucked, as we climaxed together.

I licked my lips and I felt her grinding back against me, her eyes full of intense fire, passion for me and what we were sharing together. I dug my nails into her supple bottom as I ground my wetness against her and felt her give back with equal vigor. Her supple cheeks were flushed and red, her nipples hard, her breathing getting deeper and more rapid. I watched as her body suddenly stiffened, triggering a huge orgasm, one that I alone had given her. She whimpered and arched her back, digging her nails into my back the same way I had done to her, her pussy so wet and dripping that her juices were running down my leg a bit. Once she finished her climax, her legs buckled and her exhausted body slowly began sinking down to the ground, her back still against the pole of the tiki hut.

My own body was wound like a tight spring, seconds away from a very real orgasm right on my couch, fingering my own womanhood with a skill I have perfected over time. At that moment, I didn't care if she was straight, engaged, married, or anything other than being my lover. Questions of whether it was right or wrong, possible or not, or even real did not matter in the slightest, as I let the deeply hidden desires out with a fierceness that I do not often experience sexually. My body stiffened as my long-delayed climax tore through me without mercy, overwhelming me enough that I was unable to tell if the words I heard were in my mind or being shouted out loud. I rode the blinding orgasm out as long as possible and then sank into the couch literally spent. Once my senses returned to me, I felt a mixture of both satisfaction and shame for letting my desires wind me up so much. If nothing else, it exhausted me so physically that I fell asleep on the couch and stayed there until the next morning.

Bright sunlight assaulted my eyes viciously as I slowly opened them, quickly turning towards the back of the couch to escape it. I groaned, feeling stiff, as if my body had gone completely on strike, not moving once in the night. It took a few seconds for my senses to return to me enough for me to remember where I was sitting. Yes, it was my apartment, but after being out for drinks I had more than once woken to an apartment I didn't recognize, after a hook-up with some girl I met at the bar. Don't mistake me as promiscuous, I have had my share of mostly failed relationships over the years, but never opposed to some other fun when not otherwise tied down.

I stumbled towards the master bath with its stand-up shower and glass walls, something I had insisted on before moving in. I think my credit rating must have factored in their decision, as well as my stellar rental history, but regardless of that I was delighted and signed a multiyear lease. I turned the hot water faucet to the left to start the flow and then stepped back to prevent a blast of cold water from waking me faster than I wanted to.

Once I stepped into the warm torrent coming from the square spay head mounted on the ceiling, I sighed deeply. I have always found hot showers wonderful and relaxing, and if I am ever in a shitty mood, it centers me. As I washed my skin in the enclosed space, the news of Paula's now impending nuptials came knocking rudely in my mind. The same feeling of dread about how it would affect our relationship swept over me, and so did my little illicit fantasy session about Paula. I felt a measure of shame as if I had somehow taken advantage of her, and adding my uneasy emotions to the mix didn't do anything to make it any better.

Much to my surprise, I felt tears welling up in my eyes, and within seconds, I was bawling like it was the end of the world. I leaned up against the glass wall and my knees gave way, leaving me sprawled on the shower floor with the water hitting my legs from just above my knee all the way down to my foot. I usually fight emotional outbursts like that one, so I just rode it out for several minutes until it finally ran out of steam.

I was toweling my long wavy hair dry in front of my bedroom mirror some twenty minutes later, fully composed and ready to start my Saturday. I puckered up my lips in a pretend kiss to the reflection in the mirror and was amused by it. I am proud of my full lips, though I had gotten considerable mileage out of the curvier parts of my figure. As I reached for the hairbrush to tame my unruly locks, my phone lit up with the same image of Paula as before, though I felt a twinge of erotic remembrance from gazing at the full picture before. Unlike the moment in the shower, I was once again in full control of my sometimes fiery emotions and easily pushed the thoughts and images to some undisclosed location in my psyche.

I hit the button to answer the call and then put it on speakerphone, "Hey there, pretty girl, whatcha got going on this morning?" I asked, my voice very playful but not flirtatious. It was our first call of the day, which would lead to a host of others during the day, sometimes reaching an unbelievable number of conversations. Considering that we literally talked about everything, I never gave it so much as a second thought, although Paula's friend Cathy Perkins had wagged her finger at us once for it. She had used the "girlfriend wife" word more than once in our hearing, which made Paula blush and me laugh hysterically.

"Nothing yet, thought we could go window shopping for some wedding dresses this afternoon. We can grab lunch at that Japanese place by the mall that you like so much. She was referring to, of course, a place called Hong Cho, but we always referred to it as Hung Chow, which would piss off the owner and almost always earn us a brief lecture on cultural respect. For all of his bluster, he was a nice guy and treated us well when we ate there, which was pretty often.

"Told you I would be thrilled and delighted to be your date for the afternoon and dress you up like a princess," I said, laughing and then worrying it sounded like a sexual comment. Our banter often included faux-flirting but neither of us ever took it seriously. Well, Cathy did, but she took everything way too seriously.

"Well, you know how to make a girl blush. Let's say 12:30. I want to finish up before five, we can have dinner before you head home."

It's a date I almost started to say, but suddenly very self-conscious about the playful comments. Jackson, Paula's fiance, had given me a very unhappy look the last time I had said something in his presence, and I didn't want to aggravate him unnecessarily. I doubted that Paula would tolerate being told what to do or that she had to avoid me, but I didn't want to cross that bridge, ever. "Looking forward to it," I responded after overthinking it.

Lunch at Hung Chow was okay but not spectacular as it usually was. The owner was nowhere to be seen, so it was probably his idiot nephew running the place at the moment. The guy was a walking disaster, and what he lacked in intelligence was shamed by his behavior, often hitting on every woman in the restaurant. I had scared the shit out of him the first time he tried that on me, so I guessed he was hiding in the back to avoid another confrontation. Fortunately a cute asian girl was the cashier today, and her form-fitting outfit gave me a minor thrill while paying the bill.

Our first stop was the legendary bridal shop, The Blushing Bride, and its almost stifling pretentiousness and insane prices. Still, a bride-to-be would get the royal treatment from several attendants and get to peruse what was a huge inventory of world-class gowns. I had joked with the owner, a fifty-something brunette named Iris, that any would-be thieves would bypass the jewelry store for her place for the dresses alone. I can tell I work in PR because I meant it as a joke and she turned it into a marketing campaign, and I could have charged her for it. Such is life, I try never to look back that way.

The instant we walked in the door, we were ambushed by a posse of pretty young girls who looked to be no older than 21, with perfect makeup and impeccably dressed. Paula took a step back as they rushed her, caught off guard by the overly eager aggressiveness, biting her lip anxiously as she hid behind me. She normally exuded confidence, so this was very out of character for her; I thought of it as her needing a knight in shining armor. No way, she needed a warrior princess right now, and as her maid of honor, I was more than up to the task. With a sly smile on my face, I took a quick step forward, placing my toned body between her and the well-intentioned horde of beautiful angels moving in our direction.

At the sight of me guarding my proverbial princess, the girls stopped, doe-eyed as if they had no clue how to respond, nor what my intentions were. Clearing my throat, I displayed a toothy grin, holding up one hand to bring them to a halt, which they did, some six feet away. I almost laughed at how two of the girls in the back hadn't been watching very closely and bumped into the ones in front of them.