An Unexpected Wedding Guest

Awful speed dating leads to wedding invite.

A special thanks to RF-Fast for helping to proofread and ensuring the story is in good shape.

An unexpected wedding guest

Part 1

Following my encounter described in the previous chapter 'an unexpected visitor'. I'd grudgingly agreed I needed to do something about my lack of social life or at least the female part of it.

Kate had threatened to get the neighbourhood ladies clucking around me like nosey hens, trying to push their single friends in my direction. This, combined with my suddenly reignited libido following her visit, had triggered more unwanted erections than since I was a teenage boy.

And actually, she'd been right. I should not let what happened with my ex cut me off from living life to the fullest.

However, converting the theory into practical forward progress was harder. It had been fifteen years since I'd dated and the whole dating landscape had changed. Social media, online dating and so on, all of it just depressed me.

The marketing hype was appalling. Like the advertisers who prey on the overweight, desperate to become thin. Now a new industry preyed on the lonely. I've no idea where the websites found the photographs of women supposedly in my area. I'd lived there almost all of my life and had never seen anyone remotely that good looking.

So, in the same way I disbelieved advertising pictures from fast-food restaurants, I distrusted the dating sites. I'd look elsewhere first. Reluctantly, deciding to pick one of the least terrible options, I decided on subjecting myself to a night of speed-dating.

Using the phone tracking site Kate had used to find her 'lost' phone, I found her number and texted her to tell her my plans. I hoped she'd drop her threat about the neighbourhood ladies, if I showed my willingness to attempt dating. Her reply was quick and positive.

It took nearly a month before I built up the courage to go through with it. And to be honest, it was only a direct threat from Kate that made me do it.

The moment I entered the venue for the speed-dating, my heart sank. They separated the men and the women into different areas, so we couldn't mix before the event started. Two dozen men ranging from late 20s to perhaps one guy in his 70s. I think there were 30 women, so even if this thing worked, more than one someone would miss out.

I won't bother describing how the dating worked. Except to say I felt very awkward talking to strange women about my life.

As soon as we took a break, I snuck off to the smoking area. Not that I smoked, but mostly to avoid any awkward mingling with the others. Standing in a high-walled concrete yard, scattered with discarded dog ends, was still better than inside.

"Can I cadge a ciggy?" came a woman's voice from behind me, breaking off my casual fantasy of how to escape over the broken glass topped walls of this little 'cell'.

"Sorry, I don't smoke." I turned to spot her confused expression. Checking she wasn't one of the women I'd already seen, I added.

"Just needed a break from that torture session." I nodded back inside, and she grinned, which was a good sign.

"I know what you mean. After the last time, I'd sworn I'd never do it again." She moved to stand next to me and I took a chance to look her up and down. Probably a couple years my junior, tall for a woman, perhaps five foot nine. Unlike some of the women, she was dressed conservatively, smart without being as suggestive as some. It still showed she had a curvy figure and a generous bust.

"If you swore not to do it again, why come?" I asked.

"Blame my step daughter!" A pair of women slipped passed and lit up. One I'd already seen, and I tried not to catch her eye. She'd mentioned 'babies' twice in our five minutes together.

"When her father and I split, she said some horrible things. But she'd always been a pain in my arse."

"What did she say, if you don't mind telling me?"

"Basically, I'd never find another man as good as her dad, and I'd be alone forever. Only in more flowery and spiteful words."

"So, you're here to prove her wrong?"

"Yes, and no. I don't feel obliged to be in a relationship like some. However, she invited me to her wedding next week. Which was a surprise, since I'd have thought she'd have deliberately excluded me? However, despite our divorce, her dad and I still get along, so I suspect he insisted. She managed a little spite in the invitation. It specifically said the invite was for me and a very special person as my plus one."

"So, you want to get back at her by finding someone here? Rather slim pickings here tonight."

"True. Do you fancy it?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, confused.

"Coming to the wedding with me?" I opened my mouth to beg off, but she beat me to it. "You're presentable, witty and unlike most of the men here, you haven't tried to look down my blouse." I sensed the trap and kept my eyes on hers and caught the slight hint of amusement that I'd not fallen for it.

Scratching my head to give myself a moment to think, she went on.

"I'm just looking for someone to have on my arm. As long as you don't get too drunk and try to pull the bride's maids."

"Why would you think I'd do that?"

"Because they, like my stepdaughter, are gorgeous. Look, my ex was extremely wealthy, so the food and drink will be excellent and plentiful. If you agree, I'll get another room for you."

"Why?"

"Why a separate room, or why do you need a room?" She asked, smiling. A hint of flirting with me.

"The latter. I wouldn't make assumptions about any bedroom antics. Not just to cover your deception. Somehow, I doubt your stepdaughter would investigate your sham to that extent."

"The wedding is at a stately home come hotel in the country on Saturday afternoon. The hotel has a full spa and before I leave, I intend to make full use of it at my ex's expense, of course."

I was thoughtful for a moment. This woman was pleasant to talk to and pleasant on the eyes. Going to a wedding for a first date was a little weird, but it would keep Kate off my back for a while.

"As it happens, I am free on Saturday."

Part 2

Standing outside my home with an overnight bag at my feet waiting for Amanda, a virtual stranger to collect me, felt very odd. We'd met just days before and in minutes, she'd invited me to be her 'plus one' at her stepdaughter's wedding.

Running it passed Kate, my neighbour's nineteen-year-old daughter. For the reasons explained in chapter 1, 'an unexpected visitor', she had declared herself my dating guru. She insisted I go for it, if only for practice.

It was just after 9 am on Saturday and the wedding is due for noon. When a sporty navy blue Audi TT pulled up sharply, Amanda waved at me from the driver's seat. Squeezing into the low sports car, I noticed several things. The first was there was little room and my choice to pack light seemed wise. The second was Amanda was far more dressed up than she had been at the speed-dating night.

She was wearing a light summer dress, white with a slight floral pattern of red roses. Short sleeves with a square-cut neckline, showing a larger bust than hinted at in her previous outfit. An elegant pendant necklace drew your eyes to her cleavage. The skirt stopped just above her knee. The only discordant items were the training shoes she was wearing.

"Just for driving." She commented as she noticed my gaze. "Is this, OK?" she asked, looking for a compliment.

"You look great."

"You clean up good yourself." Reaching for my seatbelt, I was pleased I'd chosen my best suit for this.

Amanda pulled off rather sharply and I hurried to fix my seat belt.

"Sorry, but I misjudged the traffic today. I forgot it's a bank holiday weekend, so I hope we don't miss the wedding."

Given how she nipped in and out of traffic to get us onto the motorway, I was more worried about missing the rest of my life in an accident. However, once on the motorway, she seemed to calm down and drive more sensibly.

"I was half expecting to get a message saying you'd changed your mind," Amanda commented.

"Why?"

"Having some random stranger invite you on a non-dirty, 'dirty' weekend. Attending a wedding where you'll not know anyone. You must have had second thoughts?"

"I did, but I had no choice really..." Amanda looked over, confused. "I have a rather forceful female friend who insisted I come."

"No romantic involvement there?"

"No." I replied, but the hesitation was a little long, and I saw Amanda reading more into it than face value.

If she knew the truth, that I'd been sexually intimate with my nineteen-year-old neighbour, she might just kick me out of the car without slowing down.

However, she seemed content to let it drop.

"Ok, we only have two hours to get our cover stories sorted out." She said,

"Excuse me, but doesn't it sound a bit like we are pretending to be spies? It's a little earlier in our relationship to be role playing, isn't it?" Amanda chuckled and seemed to relax. I felt this weekend might not be so bad.

Switching to my best Sean Connery impression, I twisted towards her and held out my hand.

"It's Bond, Jebediah Bond. And you would be?" Amanda looked over at me and my hand and I could see her thinking.

"Erm; Pussy Galore, no I mean Moneypenny."

"How Freudian. The first slept with Bond and the second wanted to." I dropped my hand and sat back.

"Hey!" she objected, laughing. "I don't remember Honor Blackman and Sean Connery actually having sex?"

"It was a 1964 movie, in the days when sexual assault and unwanted kisses didn't result in lawsuits. He threw her to the ground in a barn and forced a kiss on her until she kissed him back. At the time apparently, that was the accepted way of 'curing' a lesbian. After that, the camera pans away before either has a chance to ask if the other had a condom. Anyway, why are we arguing about a film made before either of us was born?"

"You started it. What I meant about the cover story is, I don't want my step daughter to think we've just met. And I've just realised I don't even know your name."

"OK, let's start with the real stuff before we get into fantasyland. My name is Michael Relish..."

"As in?"

"Yep, my father was always in a pickle over his name." Amanda groaned.

"How often have you used that?"

"About a million times more than I should have." I admitted. "As a kid, my sister nicknamed me Metal Mickey..."

"After that crappy TV show?"

"No, after a car crash left me with enough pins in my leg to bugger up getting through security at airports. As a teenager, I tried to play it off that I was into heavy metal, but that never played out. I'm a 44-year-old surgeon, divorced with no kids. Neck size 16, inside leg..."

"OK, OK. Perhaps I don't need that kind of detail. I'm Amanda Gastrell nee Barrowclough, also divorced with no kids except a bratty step daughter. Just to prove we're close, I'll admit that I'm 41. I've been divorced for 4 years. How about you?"

"Six. I do have an interesting fact about your name, or I should say your ex-husband's name. They allow nobody of that name to live in Stoke-on-Trent."

"Why?"

"Because of a reverend in the 18th century who owned Shakespeare's home. He was fed up with visitors and wanted to reduce his taxes, so he tore down the home. And then was promptly run out of town."

"Why on earth would you know that?"

"I've a gift for remembering details. Particularly when they are pointless for anything practical. However, I attended a lot of pub quizzes at one point."

For two hours on the motorway, we swapped anecdotes over our background and upbringing. Amanda turned out to be smart and witty, and it was hard to keep in mind this wasn't a real date. Just a deception to trick her stepdaughter.

Once we pulled off the motorway and started down country lanes, Amanda became increasingly worried we would be late. And we'd not started creating our fictional relationship.

"How about this?" Amanda offered.

"We met six months ago, as we're both divorced, neither of us is looking for anything too heavy."

"Platonic?"

"For six months? I don't think that's believable..."

"True, I know for a fact that if we weren't just doing this to deceive your step daughter, I'd not be able to keep my hands off you for that long." Amanda looked pleased at my declaration but did not take her eyes off the road.

"We live apart, visit local restaurants and occasionally have a weekend away in the..." She stopped to think, and I offered.

"The Cotswolds? I know the area and could name a dozen hotels. You can be vague if anyone asks."

"Because I'm so enamoured with your sexual prowess?"

"I don't like to blow my own horn. Mind you, if I could, I might not need a girlfriend." Amanda burst out laughing.

"Good point, but I doubt that will come up. Oh shit! Here we are."

She turned off into the grounds of a country house, manicured wood and grasslands. A small herd of red deer stood off to one side, watching, unperturbed by the car. The house turned hotel was huge and we followed the signs to the carpark. The drive revealed a newer annex as we rounded a corner, along with a large white marquee. We also saw a horse and carriage with the bride trying to figure out how to deal with her dress and train.

"Looks like we made it by minutes. Over there."

I pointed towards the end of the car park, with the small church another hundred yards away across a stretch of grass. Amanda zoomed into the space and slapped her brakes on. I think she just wanted to spray the gravel everywhere.

Jumping out of the car, I rushed around to her side as she slammed the door shut.

"Shoes!" I cried, spotting she was still in the trainers.

"Shit!" She yanked open the door and tilted the seat forward. Treating me to the lovely view of her well-proportioned bottom as it pulled her dress taut against it. As I stored that image away for later recall, part of my mind registered something else infinitely interesting. I could make out the waistband of her underwear, but nothing else. She must be wearing a thong.

Amanda dropped the shoes onto the ground and slipped off a trainer and winced as she put her bare foot onto the gravel.

"Let me," I offered and squatted down. Taking the back of her ankle in one hand and brushing any dirt and grit from the sole of her foot.

"Have I discovered a secret foot fetish?"

"No, my ex-wife had, or claimed she had, a bad back. I often had to sort her shoes out."

"She faked a bad back?"

"Yes, and no. It's complicated and there's a minimum alcohol level to be attained before I tell you more."

Finishing with the first shoe, she pushed off the other trainer, and I had a chance to admire her legs. Silky, smooth and shapely, the only defect was a small scar on the inside of her left knee. Being somewhat of an expert in surgical scars, I estimated her surgery about 6 months old. The second shoe went on quickly.

The carriage appeared behind us, and I jumped up.

"Over the grass is quickest."

"Seriously? In these shoes? The heels will sink, and I'll fall on my arse or onto my hands and knees. Grass stains like that are hard to explain."

"Well, I could give you a piggyback or a fireman's lift?" I offered humorously.

"This dress is too tight for a piggyback. I'd have to pull it all the way up to my waist." That idea appealed to me, but I didn't say it out loud. "And in this dress, my tits would fall out with a fireman's lift." Again, not a horrible idea to me.

Instead, she took my arm and gripped it firmly; she walked almost on her toes across the grass. Reaching the other side, we hurried around to the doors. To find several men waiting outside.

The oldest of these held his hands out to Amanda.

"Mimi, I'm so glad you came. It means so much to me."

"Of course, I'd come, if only for you."

He turned to me.

"And you would be?" He held out a hand for me to shake.

"Michael, I'm pleased to meet you, Max." Something in his handshake seemed off, but there's no time as the carriage appears.

"Show time!" Max exclaimed and turned back to Amanda. "We must try to catch up later." It seemed like, despite their divorce, they still got on well.

Hurrying inside the church, Amanda grabbed the first pew at the back and stepped in before me, then changed her mind.

"Do you mind if I'm on the outside? That way Samantha can see me straight away." Before I could step out to swap places, she squeezed passed in front of me. The pew was rather narrow, and I was treated to a more intimate introduction to her backside as it pushed across my crotch.

Samantha, on Max's arm, came in beaming with happiness for all her friends and family. I could spot the moment she spotted Amanda, as the smile remained but only on her mouth and not in her eyes. She looked at me, and I got the stink eye. Which was to be expected. Was my role here to support Amanda getting back at the bride?

After that, the wedding and reception went pretty much as expected. The food was excellent and the vintage champagne better. The speeches were amusing, even if I don't get all the references to people or past events.

Commenting to Amanda that the marquee had more space and tables than necessary. She reminded me it was only the wedding breakfast. More guests were coming for the evening 'do'. With that, I decided to pace myself and switch to alternating between water and alcoholic beverages.

As the afternoon wore on, the older guests started to leave, and the room thins out. The 12 piece band is playing with an elderly couple waltzing across the dance floor with a pair of small children attempting to copy.

"God! I need a cigarette." Amanda sighed.

"I could try to find you some?"

"Really?" Amanda asked, surprised.

"We're miles from anywhere. I'm sure a fancy place like this has at least some."

Eventually I found a limited range in the hotel bar, and paid way too much, and returned to the marquee to find Max sitting with Amanda. They were both smiling and chatting amiably, and I wondered what caused them to split up. I let them be and hung back to observe the crowd.

One of my favourite past times was watching what other people say and do without realising how much they were exposing about themselves. Then I noticed the bride on the far side of the room chatting to the bridesmaids. Her body language was animated, and she pointed out Amanda and then, looking around, she spotted me and pointed me out to the others. Suddenly, I felt less benevolent towards them. In my mind they turned into hench-maidens, sent on a search and destroy mission. Or perhaps that should be a 'seduce and destroy' mission, as each was as attractive as Amanda has suggested.

I drew my attention back to Max as he stood and came over.

"It's nice to see my Mimi, sorry. I mean, your Amanda is so happy. You must be good for her." He patted me on the shoulder, and something in his movement triggered my doctor's eye. The way he had gripped both hands in his lap while he talked to Amanda, his movements extra careful and measured. I took a stab at Parkinson's disease until I noticed a tiny black spot on his temple. Now I was thinking about some sort of brain tumour as that was a targeting spot for radiotherapy.

He'd gone before I finished processing that and Amanda stood, saw me and I headed over for me to hand over the cigarettes. Heading out of the side of the tent to a small smoker's area, where the marquee floor was extended, Amanda lit up her cigarette.

"If you don't mind me asking, you seem to still get on with Max. What happened?"

"Samantha! OK, that's a little unfair, even if it's true. Max's first wife and Samantha's mother died suddenly, when Samantha was almost 10. She and Max grew even closer in their grief, until, that is, she started playing up. Skipping school, hanging with the wrong crowd, and so on. In desperation, Max sent her to boarding school when she was 11. That was around the time I met him, and we started dating despite the age difference.