The Maid of Honor

Maybe I was too naïve but I really thought that Gary Morgan loved me -- Abby Prentice.

I had moved to the city where my best friend, Jean Williams, lived about a year after college to accept a good job and met Gary at a party hosted by Jean soon thereafter. I was immediately struck by how cultured and smart he was -- and the fact that he was good eye candy didn't hurt either. I was thrilled that he called me the day after the party and asked me out.

After about five or six dates I was in love with Gary. He was three years older than my twenty three and seemed so stable and mature -- in addition to being hot. Then when we first had sex the deal was sealed as far as I was concerned.

Instead of just fucking my brains out the night that he figured out that I was a "sure thing" he slowly disrobed me in his classy apartment, laid me gently on his bed, and then pleasured both my titties and pussy. I was trying hard to reach his cock -- I was desperate compared to his methodical -- but he held me off. Only after he had sucked my nipples to the point that he would have consumed a quart of milk had I been nursing, and then manipulated my pussy and clit so that I was driven to two spectacular fireworks display orgasms did he begin to penetrate me.

Showing him to be the gentleman that he was he rolled on a condom (the fact that the box he got it from said "Trojan Magnum XL" indicated that I was in for a real treat) before actual penetration. His penetration was also slow, allowing me to get used to his size. Once he was buried, however, he turned into an animal and brought me through three major orgasms before he grunted and filled the condom.

The day after our first copulation I promised to get an STD test and display my birth control record to him if he desired because I wanted him bareback. The condom fuck with him was the best of my life but I imagined that a bareback fuck would be even better. He readily agreed, and the next weekend I was proven correct when after the first time that he fucked me bareback I passed out from sensory overload.

I guess that I was giddy as a result of my relationship with Gary because Jean would laugh at me when I told her how great the sex was and say "You're like a toddler with a new toy, Abby."

My response was "No toddler ever had a toy so wonderful."

After Gary and I had been going together about two months Jean met a guy that she really liked. Burt Cavanaugh was a nice guy a few years older than Jean and as laid-back as Jean was high-strung, leading me to believe that they were a good match since each one's strengths were the other one's weaknesses. Gary and I often double-dated with Jean and Burt.

I was really hoping for a ring after Gary and I had been going together for about a year when suddenly -- without warning -- he broke it off with me. At least he had the decency to do it in person, but I think that he regretted that because I was a basket case. I asked him to tell me why but all he was willing to say was that he wasn't ready to settle down and didn't want to string me along. I thought that was a cop-out but after some initial begging I regained my dignity and walked away, very sad.

I almost drove my best friend Jean crazy opening my heart to her. Despite how high-strung she was she seemed to be good at calming me down. When I learned a couple of weeks after my tragedy that she had broken up with Burt I commiserated with her but she didn't need it. "I just told Burt that we needed a break," she told me, indicating that she was the one to break it off.

Jean did help my self-confidence telling me that I was great relationship material for any man and even fixed me up with a couple of guys who were really hot, but I had a really hard time getting over Gary. I finally was relatively successful in putting him out of my mind when I heard that he had moved to NYC.

After I heard that Gary had moved to NYC when Jean and I were having a night out with the girls she told me "I think that I made a mistake with Burt. I really missed him so I called him up and we're going out tomorrow night."

I was really happy for Jean and gave her a big hug because I thought that they were great together. I saw them at a party hosted by a mutual friend a few weeks after that and I went up and gave Burt a big hug. He seemed surprised by that and how thick Jean and I were which puzzled me somewhat, but by the end of the evening he was acting just like he always did when I was with Gary and he was with Jean and gave me a smiling hug and kiss on the cheek when the night ended.

Even though I wasn't thinking about Gary all of the time, I was still plodding through the dating scene when an exciting event occurred. At lunch one weekday Jean showed me the big ring on her left hand. We probably looked like a couple of idiots giggling and chattering in the restaurant right after that. After the initial excitement wore down she said "Of course you've got to be my maid of honor," she grinned, setting off another round of giggling and chattering.

Unlike most modern couples Jean and Burt wanted to get married quickly. Burt's father was not in good health and he wanted him to be able to travel to our city -- where the wedding would be -- to attend and Jean was fine with it. What that meant, however, was that everyone involved had to work hard and fast to get things ready in less than six months. I was honored to help my best friend any way that I could and since the wedding would likely have more than 100 guests she would need it. I busted my butt helping out and assumed much of the responsibility for details on the day of the actual ceremony and reception.

Another exciting -- maybe more bizarre than exciting -- thing happened shortly after Jean's announced engagement. Gary sent me a text asking how I was doing. That shocked the shit out of me. My initial reaction was excitement that he might want to rekindle our relationship, followed immediately by wanting to tell him to go fuck himself, followed after contemplation by realizing that neither of those strong emotions was what I was really feeling -- which was apathy. I waited a couple of days -- not thinking about it that often, which pleased me -- and then politely replied that I was fine, that Jean and Burt were getting married, and asking how he was doing.

Things really moved along for Jean and Burt, with me helping at every stage and Jean, me, and her two bridesmaids picking out dresses, flowers, and a number of other things. I helped most with the guest list, social media, and getting the invitations out since that is related to my area of expertise.

Surprisingly Gary continued electronic communications with me. From them I got the feeling that he might actually want to hook up again -- if I went to NYC -- but after exploring my feelings I realized that I would never trust him again so no matter what I would not be pursuing a relationship with him. I continued to remain polite in electronic conversations, however.

**************

Between work, dating, and working on the wedding, time flied for the next few months. While Jean was high-strung fortunately she wasn't a bridezilla (at least not too much of one; JBOL) and things moved along relatively smoothly. However, none of us could afford the time to go to some fancy out-of-town bachelorette party so we had one in town three days before the wedding.

Since I never like to lose control I don't really drink much -- just enough to be sociable. Therefore I was the only sober one after the eight of us in the bachelorette pub crawl were in the limo at our fifth stop. I took it upon myself to call the limo driver whenever we were ready to go from one place to the next.

At the fifth stop as we were partying Sylvia -- one of the attendees and a co-worker of Jean's-- wasn't holding her liquor too well. I followed her into the bathroom and made sure that she was OK. Once I determined that she wasn't going to puke again, and cleaned her up, she put her arm around me and said (all drunken slurs removed): "Abby you're the best friend to everyone that I know."

I tried to demure but she would have nothing of that as she continued. "The fact that you could forgive Jean for fucking Gary for several months and breaking you two up means that you're a one in a million friends!"

Sylvia said some more things but I didn't hear them. I helped her out of the bathroom and got her something to eat and gave her some charcoal capsules -- I don't have any idea if those capsules really help one to get sober, but they couldn't hurt.

Fortunately we went to only one other venue before the limo driver drove everyone home. I had him take Jean home first and let others hug her goodbye -- I stayed away -- and had him take me home last. I needed time to think.

I wondered with only two full days left how I could confirm what Sylvia told me while she was drunk. I was not about to rely on one drunken comment but by the same token this was so serious to me that I would want nothing to do with Jean if it was true. The fact that she could be so duplicitous to console me while she was fucking Gary left me vacant inside.

As I was thinking how I could possibly confirm what Sylvia said I got a text from Gary. "I just got orchestra tickets for the play Prayer for the French Republic, which has gotten great reviews. No pressure. Are you interested in attending?"

Suddenly my path was clear. I called Gary that very minute. He answered on the third ring. "Hi, Abby; I guess you got my text."

"Yeah I did, Gary, but I thought you were very definitive in breaking up with me so I was surprised to hear from you."

After a pause he said "Well, I was a little screwed up then and after a long time to think about it I may have made a big mistake."

"You mean your affair with Jean was what screwed you up?" I lobbed out there.

After another pause he said "When did you find out about that?"

"Right now," I said, and then terminated the call.

************

I've always considered myself a good person; friendly, personable, forgiving, responsible. I was so incensed -- almost to the point of being apoplectic -- that being friendly, personable, and forgiving were impossible in this situation. The question was what to do.

When I go to work and I immediately went in to see my boss. "Miranda, a couple of weeks ago you told everyone that we were opening up a new office in San Diego. Is it fully staffed?"

"No; I never specifically asked you about it because I thought that you were very happy here; are you interested?"

"Make me an offer," I said, "my apartment is on a month-to-month basis."

As I contemplated my future I thought about what I should do as far as Jean was concerned. Some of the things that I thought of were cancelling the catering for the reception; when the officiant asked if anyone had objections calling her a slut in front of the church and walking out in a huff; sabotaging her dress; and spraying her face with indelible ink as she was getting her makeup done the day of the wedding. After serious contemplation I came up with what worked best for me.

**************

Two hours before the ceremony was about to start I was on a plane to San Diego to look for an apartment, and had already given notice to my present landlord that I was vacating at the end of the month. The frantic text messages that had been blowing up my phone all day put a smile on my face. I'd text Jean, Burt, and Jean's and Burt's mothers an hour before the ceremony started -- what happened after that I hoped would be a shit show but it was no longer my problem. Maybe I could find some loyal friends in San Diego.

With that I napped, my iPhone set to wake me up an hour before the ceremony so that I could send the texts that I had already prepared. I was at peace hoping that I had ruined Jean's attempt at becoming a "Loving Wife!"