The Bridesmaids' Revenge

Copyright Oggbashan September 2000/July 2002 The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

This is the main story of the Silverbridge Chronicles. Although it was the first to be written it is the last, so far, in the logical order of the stories.

The main stories in chronological order:

1. "Lisa trains Thomas"
2. "Lisa's Adjustable Petticoat"
3. "The Procession"
4. "Candice" (being written)
5. "The Cage Crinoline"
6. "The Stag Party"
7. "The Hen Party"
8. "The Bridesmaids' Revenge"

The other stories:

A. "The Scarf Dance"
B. "The Norwegian Petticoat" (being written)
C. "The Clam, The Half-Clam and the Candle-Snuffer"

stand on their own between story 1 "Lisa Trains Thomas" and story

4. "The Cage Crinoline".

("Lycra","Tupperware", "Velcro" and "Wonderbra" are trade names.)

* * * * *

Prelude

Jane and Thomas will marry tomorrow. Lisa and Harold are to be the Chief Bridesmaid and Best Man. They have recently separated because Harold cannot let himself go enough to enjoy Lisa's love. Although they'll have to work together at the wedding and reception to make the event memorable for their friends, they're still unhappily parted. The other bridesmaids, Alison, Frances and Sandra are planning to kidnap Harold and force him to be at Lisa's mercy tomorrow night. All of them are active members of the local soccer club where the reception is to be held. Will the bridesmaids' plot succeed? Will Harold or Lisa find out before the bridesmaids strike?

Prologue - Lisa

I sit alone in my living room above my dressmaker's shop and workroom. Tomorrow my friends Thomas and Jane will marry and I am finishing the sash for Jane's wedding dress. I have made the bridesmaids' dresses including one for myself as chief bridesmaid. The other dresses are for Alison, Frances and Sandra.

I think back to my relationship with Thomas which had ended just over three years ago. I am still friends with Thomas but when the spark had gone we had decided to part. It is ironic that Thomas and I appreciate each other more just as Thomas will marry my best friend.

All the principals in tomorrow's wedding are involved with Silverbridge's amateur football (soccer) club nicknamed "The Glossies". We are proud that the men's team are always close to the top of their division and the Ladies' team "The Silver Vixens" have been champions in three of the last five years.

*****

Thomas had been the team captain until a knee injury stopped him playing. He now coaches the Ladies' and Junior teams. Jane is the Ladies' team captain and a forward. I am their goalkeeper. The other bridesmaids Alison, Frances and Sandra are also in the team and we have all been friends since we joined the Under 14 girls' team. All five of us have swapped boyfriends and gossip and have survived as a close-knit group until now when Jane is to be the first to marry. The hen-party earlier this week had been wild and we had been lucky not to have been thrown out of the hotel.

I thought I would have been married before Jane. I'd been almost engaged to Harold for two years. I have been unable to get him to set a date, and our partnership had recently ended over his continuing refusal to consider any type of sex except the missionary "man-on-top" position.

I have tried to show him what he is missing, but we'd argued so much that we had agreed to a trial separation. Harold is his widowed mother's only child and it shows. He is not a success as a footballer because he is unable to relax and to participate fully in the game. He is "uptight" about other things as well and looks like becoming a real pain unless something happens to change him. I still feel that Harold could be a great partner - if he changes soon.

*****

Harold will be the Best Man tomorrow because he is the only club member likely to behave seriously and carry out his duties properly. The other male players and probably most of the women will drink too much and upset the older relations. I know that Harold had had trouble with Thomas and the others at the stag-party and he certainly would have been shocked by the girls' wild antics at the hen-party. The male stripper had been good and even better after his act had been interrupted. Both events had been earlier this week to allow hangovers to improve before the wedding.

I had even tried to get my friends to flirt with Harold to see if another girl could shake his convictions about sex, but they had failed. They had been willing to try because Harold was intelligent, considerate and attractive although of slighter build than his friends. He was a slim 5'9" with fine limbs and a good mover at a dance but again he doesn't relax enough to be a great dancer. At least Harold never treads on a girl's feet, nor tries to push and pull her around in a dance, nor holds her too close. I still won't object to getting closer to Harold.

I concentrate again on my sewing. I am annoyed with myself because the work on the sash was my own fault. I had designed all the dresses to have twelve foot long separate sashes tied in a large bow at the back streaming nearly to the floor. I hadn't realised until the final fitting session for the bride and bridesmaids that the material for the sashes was not stiff enough to sit properly in the bows. I had started again with a heavier fabric. The bridesmaids will wear pastel green dresses with white sashes, and the bride will have a white sash with a pastel green trim. The colours will echo the Silver Vixens' team colours of pastel green shirts with white shorts.

The girls had all agreed on the dress design. Each will have a very full skirt over a hooped petticoat, with a low cut fitted bodice with detachable puffed half sleeves. The bridesmaids will wear long white silk gloves during the wedding service but take them and the half sleeves off for the reception and dancing. The hooped petticoats are also removable. I am proud of my design of individually adjustable hoops that can be expanded and contracted and held firmly by outside Velcro strips. The girls could drop the petticoats without lifting their skirts using invisible zip closures let into the side seams of the skirts. They could then step out of the petticoats which could be stored flat. Worn with high heels and the hoops expanded the dresses were ankle length and swung beautifully. Without the hoops their skirts are just floor length concealing the feet but with neither heels nor the hoops the skirts trail on the floor and have to be held up or managed very carefully. Descending stairs without hoops or shoes is almost impossible but with both could be revealing. I had used the adjustable hooped petticoats for a couple of recent wedding dresses and the brides had been pleased because they could be formal at the service and yet dance freely at the reception. It is the first time that I will use the petticoats for the bridesmaids as well.

I look across the room at the hanging dresses and the rejected sashes looped over them. Sandra had suggested that each sash could be impregnated with each girl's particular perfume so that each bridesmaid would have a distinct scent as she walks down the aisle without overdoing the perfume on themselves. It is a great idea and had worked well by folding the sashes into sealed Tupperware containers with a spray of perfume. It won't work with the new ones because they were too stiff to fold into such a small space. Draping the impregnated sashes over the dresses has been the best I could do.

I run through tomorrow's arrangements. I will deliver Jane's dress tonight. The bridesmaids will come here in the late morning after Sandra has completed Jane's make-up and Frances has done the bride's hair. We will then dress and prepare before being collected by hire car to go via Jane's house to the church. After the service and the photo-call outside the church the whole party will walk in procession through the town centre to the football clubhouse for the reception. I'm still not sure about the going-away arrangements. The club members will be sure to overdecorate the groom's car. I will be driving the bride and groom to the airport in my car which I will park inside the club's garage tonight. The groom's car will be left obviously in the car park. I think that no-one, except for Harold, and I knows that Thomas and Jane won't be driving themselves.

The bridesmaids will come back here for a sleepover party which I am looking forward to. Harold is due to go on a hiking trip by himself for a week. He and I had synchronised our holidays before we had split up. I don't know what I will do during next week. My shop will be shut with all the staff on holiday.

I finally finish the sash and hang it next to Jane's dress. I'm still not sure whether I will enjoy tomorrow or not. My work on the dresses is satisfying but I wish I could go to the wedding with Harold as my fiance or better still to be going to our own wedding. Best Man he will be tomorrow - my best man he could be - if only! My feelings of regret for losing Thomas will evaporate like mist in bright sunlight if only I could get Harold to loosen up. He would be a great person and a dependable partner - if he could appreciate what fantastic sex is possible between two loving people.

*****

Prologue - Harold

I re-read my speech and fuss about the wedding arrangements. I know I fuss. Knowing doesn't stop me. The groomsmen (ushers) will probably behave before and immediately after the service. My real worry is the reception. They don't need to drink to chase girls and sing rude songs very loudly. They prove that every time on the coach to and from away matches. Sometimes they are worse than the fans. The players value their fitness and skill which had won them a place in the team and none of them use alcohol or drugs. As unpaid amateurs playing for love of soccer they are wholehearted in their training, playing, and although I don't approve, women-chasing. The women's team is just as bad or good depending on your point of view.

Both teams' fans seem inseparable from cans of lager but each of the players knows that their individual fitness is essential to enjoy the life they had chosen. Any player who got drunk is likely to be got at by teammates long before the club management will react. They will protect them while drunk, sober and clean them up, send or take them home safely but disapproval will be voiced very loudly in private. It doesn't matter if it is a male or female player - the unwritten rule of the whole club is that if a club member was incapable he or she is to be looked after.

In a town the size of Silverbridge with a long established and successful football club it is almost impossible for any player to do anything in public without the club learning about it. The network includes its players, its active fans, its ex-players, and the supporters' group with most of the dignitaries of the community including the Mayor, the Chief Constable, the Town Clerk etc. The local newspaper editor is an ex-player and proud of her club which has stopped some embarrassing revelations at the expense of giving her early warning of any club news. Sometimes she is told even before the players so that she can meet her print deadlines. The local press will certainly be present at tomorrow's wedding - that makes me even more nervous.

I take my duties as Best Man very seriously. I take every responsibility very seriously. I know that although an advantage in my work as a nearly qualified accountant it is also my worst failing. I know why. My father died when I was nine years old. Mother told me at the funeral that now I was the man of the family and would have to act responsibly - she meant it too!. I had managed to keep playing football but I'd had to help at home with the chores, the accounts and all the boring adult things that a nine-year old shouldn't have had to face. As I got older Mother pushed more and more responsibility on me until sometimes I felt like screaming just to be allowed to relax and let go. Football had been my only pastime until Lisa came along but I'd damaged both by my inability to be myself instead of the model citizen Mother had made.

I am very sensitive to the feelings of others, perhaps because I am unable to express my own feelings freely. I love Lisa and appreciate her qualities. She is a good dressmaker, a competent businesswoman, a great goalkeeper but also a passionate and caring woman with whom I am sure I could have a fantastic life - if only I could let go and defy Mother for the last time.

As I continue to polish my speech I remember the impact of meeting Lisa.

*****

Impact was the right word because she'd hit me hard and knocked me flat on my back on the club's pitch.

It had been a pre-season charity match to raise money for the local hospital. The Glossies (men's first team) were playing the Vixens (ladies' first team) and had been sponsored per goal. The ladies' team had been sponsored twice as much per goal as the men's.

If it had been a fair match the Vixens should have lost by at least 5 goals - but it had been anything but fair! Thomas and Jane, the respective team captains, had fixed the result between them which was the normal practice for this annual charity match. The sponsors knew it, the teams knew it, the fans knew it - it happened every year.

The tradition was that the first half was played normally which gave the players a chance to show off their skills and appreciate the strengths and weaknesses of each team's style. During the second half the men were handicapped and the handicap was a surprise each year. The previous year the men had played three-legged with players tied to each other by one ankle except the goalkeeper who'd had plenty of saves to make that afternoon. The year before that the men had played in full-length women's night-dresses and some of them had been tripped up by them. Other years had seen 10 goalkeepers in the women's goal; the men's team reduced to five players; and the men playing while balancing books on their head. The only disaster had been the horses - the women had played on horseback with polo sticks. The horses cut up the pitch, knocked the men over, and left the pitch covered in horse-shit.

The year that I met Lisa the men's team had no idea what the handicap would be. We had played a normal first half and had managed to score two goals to the girls' none. We went out rather nervously because none of us wanted to face horses or what else - motorbikes perhaps?

The ladies' team ran on normally but then another complete ladies' team ran on from the other side of the pitch. We men were outnumbered two to one! Both groups of girls were wearing the Vixens' kit but we recognised some of the second team - they were the Vixens' arch-rivals from Hogglestock: "The Stock Ladies" normally called behind their backs "The Fatstock Sows". They were good footballers but inclined to play rough and hard. They had won the division title several times and one year in a vital match against the Vixens there had been so many injuries that the match had to be abandoned.

We men were really in trouble with twenty-two skilled women to only eleven men. We soon conceded three goals but then managed to defend our goal for most of the second half even if we couldn't attack. With about ten minutes to go to the end of the match we men thought we would have a respectable score this year at least.

Just as I, on the touchline, had thrown the ball to Thomas, Jane the ladies' captain shouted "Now!". Before we men knew what had happened most of us were on the ground being sat on by two girls each. The local paper later described the event as "an unedifying sight" as the men tried to struggle free and the girls tried to pin them down.

As each man's face was muffled by sweaty and muddy thighs the fans shouted "One down! Two down! Three down!"

Most of the men ended up straddled and face-sat. The rest were being breastsmothered. The Stock Ladies were the worst. Some of the men passed out from lack of air. Later most had bruises and one claimed to have been sucked dry right out in the open.

There were a few girls free to chase Thomas and I who'd been missed. Just before disappearing under a heap of women, Thomas managed to pass the ball to me. The fans were going wild. The shouts of advice from the terraces were suggesting that the women do things that certainly shouldn't be attempted in front of a large crowd in broad daylight.

I realised that I had one chance to get a goal. The women were enjoying themselves and their goal was undefended except for Lisa who was running towards me. If only I could angle the shot right I could level the score. Lisa was getting closer but I thought I could side-step and still shoot for goal. I thought that Lisa would have had a better chance to stop my shot if she had stayed closer to her goal. She was getting very close and as she was out of her area she couldn't handle the ball. She'd have to use her feet.

I had forgotten what sort of game this charity match was. Lisa had no intention of playing the ball. She was after the man.

All the spectators' eyes were on Lisa and I since we were the only two players still on their feet. The other men had all been subdued and apart from weak struggling there was nothing to be seen.

Just as I was about to side-step, Lisa's arms whipped round me and she threw me flat on my back. The ball trickled slowly towards the touchline. Lisa's legs wrapped round me pinning my arms to my sides as my head came to rest between her heaving breasts. I had no chance to resist as her arms clamped me tight. She pressed my face further and further in. Through her damp top I could see sweat glistening as her breasts moved closer together trapping me between them. I couldn't see anything but Lisa. I couldn't feel anything but Lisa. I couldn't smell anything but Lisa. With a start I realised I couldn't breathe anything without Lisa's consent. I started to drift into unconsciousness.

Lisa relaxed her grip just a little so that I could drag a sweat-scented gasp. "Keep still" she hissed "or I'll breastsmother you in front of the crowd." I managed a feeble nod before I was swallowed up again in that magnificent cleavage.

At the time Lisa seemed to hold me forever. I enjoyed the feeling that I was in the complete power of a strong and beautiful woman and I still lived only with her permission.

Thinking back to this time, which I did often, it seemed much shorter. In fact I had been trapped for just ten minutes until the final whistle of the match. The few women not actively facesitting or breastsmothering men had managed to score ten goals while their teammates were scoring to different rules. It took me months to realise that the women still playing football had been the married ones whose husbands were watching from the terraces. The unmarried women and the ones whose husbands were not present had done all the damage to the male players.

"Damage" was the right word. Some of the men hadn't enjoyed being humiliated by women especially in front of an audience. Some were very angry. Many of them felt that women shouldn't be allowed to play football anyway - it was a man's game. It was OK for men to chase women, but for women to chase and overpower men - it just wasn't natural or right. As these views were expressed in the shower room. I and some of the others kept quiet.

At the time I realised I had enjoyed the experience and wouldn't mind a repeat performance with Lisa but in private. For once I acted before I thought. The sensation of Lisa's impact on me was overwhelming. I dressed quickly and waited outside the women's locker room until Lisa came out.