50 comments/ 73042 views/ 29 favorites Battle of the Banns By: MarshAlien This is dedicated to Vermilion, for the inspiration that her upcoming wedding gave me. Fortunately, my college roommate and the ditz that he's marrying are "like, so totally sexually compatible" as to invite comparisons with the great romantic couples of history, real and otherwise. That's Kendra's take, anyway. She's the ditz. Among the couples she lists: Romeo and Juliet, Brad and Angelina, and Fred and Wilma. And as I say, I consider that a good thing. Without that sexual compatibility, or "seck-shool" compatibility, as Kendra puts it, my money would be on this relationship blowing up before the end of the year. We're sitting in a bar, listening to Kendra – big surprise there – describe in minute detail the meeting that she and Dave just left with the minister who will perform their wedding in less than a month. "And then he reads the part about speaking now or forever holding your peace? And I'm, like, what is that all about? And he explains it has something to do with marriage banns? And I'm, like, marriage banns? And he starts to explain about this tradition thing, but then he gets this phone call about one of his parishioners dying or something, so he has to leave. And meanwhile I'm thinking, look, I want to have the most traditional wedding possible. I mean, I'll be arriving at the church in a horse and carriage. I'm even promising to obey my husband." Yeah. I could see that happening. "So don't you guys think we should do these marriage banns?" "You're the historian, Val," Dave says. "What do you think?" Kendra turns on Dave with a fierce look. "I am a historian as well, David." "Art history," Val mutters out of the corner of her mouth. I stifle a laugh. I'm really starting to like Kendra's maid of honor. This is the first time I've met Kendra, let alone Val. Dave and I went to school at Cal-San Luis Obispo. I stayed to do post-grad work in computers and artificial intelligence, while he took a flyer on a start-up here in the Boston area. That's where he met Kendra, who had gone to school with Val at one of what they call the "Seven Sisters." Val had since gotten a master's in history, and is about to start an assistant curatorship at the Boston Museum of History. Kendra taught elementary school for a while, but has apparently spent the last year planning her wedding to Dave. "I definitely do," Val interrupts her former roommate's glaring. "You guys should definitely do the banns." "So what do we do?" Kendra asks, her voice quivering with excitement at the thought of adding yet another element to her wedding. "There are traditionally four banns," Val explains. "Three weeks before the wedding, you're completely banned from all sexual contact. With each other." "But not with anyone else?" Dave asks in all stupid innocence. "You've been banned from that since we met, sweetie." Kendra's voice has taken on the tone of a glass-cutter. Val snorts and continues. "Two weeks out, you're banned from all romantic contact. Kissing, romantic touching, you know. Things like that." Dave and Kendra nod sagely. I, on the other hand, was raised a Catholic, and all I really want to know at this point is how long Val can keep this up with a straight face. "And one week before the wedding?" Kendra asks. "No touching at all," she says. "In fact, either the maid of honor or the best man has to move into your apartment to watch you." "You're kidding!" Kendra's eyes widen in surprise. "No, Val insists. "It all goes back to the droits de seigneur." "I've heard of that," Dave says. No doubt in the one humanities class he couldn't avoid taking in college. "That's the right of the feudal lord to sleep with the bride on her wedding night," Val continues, nodding at Dave. "The banns were designed to re-purify her, in effect, for her lord's use." "You mean I have to let someone else...?" The very thought of it horrifies poor Kendra. "No, no, no," Val assures her. "That part is long dead. But the banns continued, as a way of, um . . ." "Ensuring that the happy couple truly loved one another," I join in. "And were willing to endure a symbolic separation. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that." "Exactly," Val agrees, giving me a big smile. "The fourth bann, which is part of the ceremony, basically gives anyone a chance to object to the marriage on the grounds that the couple did not properly obey the earlier banns." "Well, then, we should definitely do it," Kendra says. "Don't you think so, David?" David's expression suggests that he thinks just the opposite. Three weeks without sex? "David?" The return of the ice maiden. David smiles gently at his fiancée. "Of course, Kendra honey. I just want you to be happy." She smiles back and they turn back to us. "So I could probably find more about this on the World Wide Spiderweb, couldn't I?" Kendra asks. I blink at her a few times. Is she serious? Is there actually a twenty-four-year-old woman who thinks that the Internet is actually a giant spider web? "Um, I tell you what," I tell her. "Why don't I do that tonight for you, and I'll just bring the printout to your house tomorrow evening? We're supposed to have dinner there, right?" "Yes," Dave breathes a big sigh of relief. "Are you okay, sweetie?" Kendra asks. He blushes. "Um, yeah, fine, honey." "What's wrong, David?" "Nothing," he insists. "David?" "Sweetie, the wedding is three weeks from tomorrow. So if that first bann goes into effect tomorrow night, the last thing I want you doing is spending tonight on our computer." Now it's Kendra's turn to blush. "That's very true, David. Perhaps, if you guys don't mind, we'll just head on home right now." They almost run out of the bar, David littering the table with twenty-dollar bills in his haste to leave. Val and I nearly fall out of our chairs with laughter as soon the door closes behind them. "Oh, my God," Val says after we recover. "How are we ever going to tell them the truth tomorrow?" I'm busy counting the money that Dave left, more than enough to pay for dinner for the two of us. "Tell them what?" I ask innocently. "You mean it's not true?" "Well, I guess you'll find that out when you get on the World Wide Spiderweb," Val says as she starts laughing again. "They're really just some sort of signs, right?" "Yeah. Posted on the church door. Or more usually announcements they make in church." "Still. Why spoil the fun? I'm sure I can produce a convincing web site printout in the next day." "Oh, my God, are you serious?" "Sure. I can put off my apartment hunt for a day. Now how about some dinner? Dave left us quite a pile here. I'm thinking of heading down the street to that seafood place I saw. Join me?" "I'd like that," Val smiles. It is hard for me to believe, as we work our way through clam chowder, salad, scrod, and strawberry cheesecake, that this girl doesn't have something better to do tonight than have dinner with me. It may be true that she doesn't have all of Kendra's advantages – the silky blond hair, the rail-thin figure with its obscenely out-of-proportion chest, the expensive, well-tailored wardrobe – but there's such life and wit behind those sparkling brown eyes that I can't help but wonder why it's not Val who's getting married. "And so you're moving to Boston?" she asks. "I have a post-grad fellowship." "Where at?" Now it's my turn to blush. "M.I.T." I whisper into my hand with a cough. She smiles. "What's that, Matt?" Val raises her voice. "I couldn't quite hear that. Did you say the South Hingham Institute of Technology?" "The Massachusetts Institute of Technology, bitch." I say with a smile, taking the bait and spitting it back out. She sits back in her chair and smiles. "And so if you don't have an apartment where are you staying tonight?" "Shit!" I look down at my watch. "I left my bag with the concierge and told him I'd be back there by now." "Ooh, la-di-da, the concierge. At the Marriott? The Hilton?" "Well, he's more of the guy behind the counter," I explain. "At the Motel Six." "Come on," she stands and holds out her hand. I have broadband in my apartment. Let's put this thing together." We hail a taxi, drop by the motel to pick up my stuff and leave a hefty tip, and finally arrive at her third-floor apartment in a working class neighborhood in the Boston 'burbs. In addition to her sparkling brown eyes and her bouncy auburn hair, Valerie Jones has excellent taste in cheap wine. We start with a bottle of red, and by two o'clock in the morning have the outlines of a brilliant forgery. After we down half of the next bottle, a white, things become a little fuzzier, and we part with a chaste kiss, Val heading for the bedroom and me for her couch. I awake the next morning to one of the best things in the world: the sound and smell of bacon sizzling in a pan. "What time is it?" I ask groggily. "Eleven. Come on, fella. We need to finish that website." "Don't you have to work?" I ask. "My job doesn't start for another month. So I'll be able to help when you move into Dave and Kendra's apartment." "So how did you and Kendra, um . . .?" "What you're really asking is why are Kendra and I such good friends," she says with a laugh. "Well, yeah." "I know she's shallow. I know she's not the sharpest knife in the drawer. But she took a very shy, small-town girl under her wing when we first got to college, and if it weren't for her, I wouldn't be here now. "So yes, I love her like a sister. Of course, I play practical jokes like this on my sister all the time, too. Get to work, geekboy. You have a website to finish. Breakfast'll be ready in five minutes." By the time we reach Dave and Kendra's place that evening, we're once again a little tipsy. "The best explanation," I tell them as I extract the paper from the pocket of my jacket, "was on Wikipedia." Or at least the Jones-Decker version of Wikipedia. "Ooh, the Weekly Pedia," Kendra exults. "I've heard of that. Isn't it supposed to be unreliable, though?" "It used to be," I agree. "They've gotten much better at fact-checking. They're practically the Encyclopedia Britannica now." She and Dave eagerly study the printout as Val and I trade glances. "This looks nasty." Kendra looks up at us for confirmation. We both know exactly where she is on the page. Val and I had had particular fun finding illustrations for our little "entry," including that picture of a medieval chastity belt. Still, Val makes a show of looking over to see. "Oh, yeah. Well, some couples have a real hard time controlling themselves, particularly when you get into the second or third bann. That's why the best man and the maid of honor have to move in." "Both of you?" Kendra squeaks. "I thought you said it was only one or the other." Val shrugs. "What can I say? I was wrong. I'm really more of an expert on American history, anyway. The colonies and the revolution and all that." They finally finish reading the "printout" and look at each other. With a nod, they turn back to me. "Thank you so much for finding this, Matthew," Kendra says. "You really are a good friend. I'm going to go get my planner, so I can put this inside it, and then we can start talking about how the wedding is going to go." How the wedding is going to go is apparently according to a precise schedule that would make NASA envious. In fact, at exactly six o'clock, Kendra interrupts her executive summary of the wedding to turn to her beloved groom and say, "T-minus 504 hours, sweetie. Three weeks exactly." "So the first bann is officially in effect," Val says, with a glance at her wrist. "As the maid of honor, I am synchronizing my watch." All three of them look expectantly at me. "Oh, right." I check my own wristwatch. "Got it." "Great." Kendra is finally able to relax. At least until she starts the PowerPoint presentation after dinner. "This is, uh, very professional," I tell her as we watch. She flashes me a pleased smile. "It should be, for what I'm paying my wedding planner." To the accompaniment of a perfectly timed musical score, which for all I knew could have been composed specifically for purposes of this one presentation, we work our way through the pre-wedding, starting with the arrival in town of the groom's parents on the preceding Sunday, the arrival of the rest of the wedding party on Thursday, the bachelor and bachelorette parties that evening (including the time – ten o'clock?? – by which they were required to end), and the wedding rehearsal on Friday. And then the day itself: the visit to the hair stylist; the visit to the makeup consultant; the assembly of the wedding party at the church; the arrival of the horse and carriage at the bride's parents' home; the arrival of the police to block off traffic for the horse and carriage. And finally the wedding itself: 6:00 p.m. The procession of the groom's mother. 6:02 p.m. The procession of the bride's mother. 6:05 p.m. The procession of the groomsmen and the maids of honor. 6:12 p.m. The arrival on the altar of the groom and the best man. 6:15 p.m. The procession of the maid of honor. 6:18 p.m. The procession of the bride and her father, preceded by the flower girls and the ring bearer. "Kind of goes beyond Bridezilla, doesn't it?" Val whispers. "I think we're in General Omar Bridely territory now," I answer her, once again provoking that laugh I had grown so fond of over the past 24 hours. The presentation ends, abruptly, although very musically, with the departure of the bride and groom from the altar, followed by the joyous wedding party. In fact, that is exactly how it appears on the screen: "followed by the joyous wedding party." In appropriate pairs, of course. "Nothing about the reception?" I ask, my eyes twinkling. Val digs an elbow into my side. Kendra simply looks up at me and blinks. "I thought we'd save that one until after dinner," she says. "But we can do it now if you like. I don't think my reception planner did anywhere near as nice a job on hers." As she pounds on my back to try to help me with whatever has gone down the wrong way, Val assures Kendra that after dinner will be fine. Sure enough, after dinner, there's another, much less elaborate PowerPoint presentation on the wedding party's procession to the reception hall, the receiving line, the food, the drinks, the cake, the seating, the band (excuse me, bands), the music (apparently you can't trust decisions about the music to the bands), the toasts, and the happy couple's departure. "I see what you mean," I tell Kendra. "Still, it's probably too late to fire her at this point." "You think?" Kendra asks in all seriousness. I get another elbow to the ribs. "Of course you can't fire her," Val says. "Not for a PowerPoint presentation. She's a wedding planner." "A reception planner." Kendra corrects her none too gently. "Sorry," Val says softly. Val and I leave shortly after ten o'clock, and she once again offers me the couch. Because it's once again too late to go out looking for a motel, I accept. The next morning, a Sunday, we spend in companionable silence, broken only by the occasional squabbling over sections of the Boston Globe. In the afternoon, she pulls an old beat-up Chevy Citation out of a nearby garage, and drives me out for my first visit to the Cape. I treat her to dinner at a clam shack along the coast on the way back, and once again end up on the couch. At this point, because I plan to start looking for an apartment on Monday, we both figure that it really doesn't make much sense to check into a motel room. On Monday, we get a newspaper and go in search of apartments. It's already a joint enterprise, for the search part anyway. She eliminates some as being in bad neighborhoods, and others as being too far off the bus lines that I'll need to use to get to school. On Thursday, I find a beautiful two-bedroom apartment in a great location within an easy walk of the bus line to Cambridge. The only problem is the money. I did make a little on the West Coast doing some consulting, but rent like this will eat that up in no time at all. The only way I'll be able to afford this place is if I advertise for a roommate. I ask the landlord if he can hold it until the middle of next week to let me make up my mind, and after giving Val the once over, he agrees. I'm tempted to tell him that it's not a package deal, but at this point, it's far and away the best place I've found. By the time the weekend comes around, we're getting a little nervous that Kendra and Dave still haven't caught on to the whole bann fraud. We joke about the fact that we'll be banned from the wedding ourselves or, even worse, assigned some low, menial jobs by the wedding planner that will make us the laughingstock of the rest of the wedding party who are, for the most part, other folks with whom we went to school. Friday night, though, is a significant test of our resolve to see this prank to its end: dinner with the Andersons. Kendra's parents are old-line Boston Brahmins, and when Val's Citation pulls up in front of their manse, I have the feeling that it would really rather park around the back if it had the choice, thank you very much, where none of the other cars could see it. Val is an old friend, of course, and receives an air kiss from Mrs. Anderson from a distance of no less than six inches away from her cheek. I get the firm handshake, from both Mr. Anderson ("call me Jack") and Mrs. Anderson (no explicit instructions, but if she thinks I'm calling her anything but Mrs. Anderson, she's crazy), and then another from Kendra's younger brother, Todd, who is currently a senior at Hah-vahd, where call-me-Jack went to school. We suffer through a fascinating dinner table discussion about the Federal Reserve's recent decision on interest rates, and Val and I nearly knock the others over in our eagerness to accept Jack's invitation to take in the view of the sunset from the back patio. Mrs. Anderson joins us after a bit, a very worried expression on her face. "Dear," she asks Val, "do you think everything is all right?" "It was an excellent meal, Mrs. Anderson," Val says smiling. Mrs. Anderson glances back toward the dining room. "It's just that Kendra and David seem to be touching each other an awful lot. Do you see that?" I stifle a snort. "They're very much in love, Mrs. Anderson," Val assures her. "As were Mr. Anderson and I, but I'm sure we had no notion of touching each other in front of other people quite so much." Val nods. "Probably just nerves then," she says. I chime in. "Dave comes from a very demonstrative family. Very Northern Californian." "They just need to settle down a little," Val adds. "It probably helps them a lot to know that the other is there when they need them." Mrs. Anderson casts another worried glance toward the dining room, and finally gives a prim, little nod. "Very well, dear. Excuse me, now." "You can stop holding it in now, Matt," Val whispers. "Oh, God," I sigh. "Nerves? I'll say it's nerves." "Shut up," Val answers in a hiss, "or we'll both be on the floor laughing in a minute." I pull myself upright and we rejoin the others for dessert. After dinner, we adjourn, the men with port and cigars in the library, the women somewhere else. Maybe with a candlestick in the conservatory. In a house this size, we'll be lucky to ever run into them again. But we do, and by eleven, Val and I are on our way back to her apartment. "You know," I tell her, "you could have warned me about them." She giggles. "I thought it was better to let you experience it for yourself. I'm not sure I could have done it justice." Battle of the Banns "True. So, did it come up?" "The banns? Not at all. And with the men folk?" "Call-me-Jack remarked that David was looking a little peaked, and advised him to save up his energy for his honeymoon. He and the Toddster got a good chuckle out of that. It's not patricide when you kill your father, is it?" Val gives me a big smile. "Still," I say, "we ought to tell them tomorrow, don't you think?" "Tomorrow?" Val protests. "Tomorrow's the beginning of week two. No romantic touching. But if you're going to wimp out on me, we can tell them on Monday. I'll send 'em an e-mail. 'Oh, guys, I did a little more research, and it turns out I was wrong about those bann things. I'm soooo sorry.'" "Yeah, I'll bet you would be." By the time Saturday evening comes around, though, we're both feeling a little more charitable to Dave and Kendra. We're over at their place again, for supper, when the alarm on Kendra's watch – the cheap, wedding planner watch, not the expensive one she had worn to her parents – rings. She looks over at her fiancée. "T-minus 336 hours, honey," she says. Dave smiles back, and reaches his hand across the table for hers. "Ahem." Their hands inches apart, they both look over at Val, their eyes wide. "Second bann," she says. She looks under the table. "And I think romantic touching also includes footsie, at least in my view. What do you think, Matt? You were raised in the Catholic church, weren't you?" "Oh, we frowned on any premarital footsie," I say quite seriously. They start to look more and more distraught through the meal, however, and shortly after the dessert, I look over at Val, a questioning look on my face as I plead for them. She smiles and nods. Before she can open her mouth, though, Kendra opens hers. "Now let's take our coffee into the living room. We need to plan the wedding week, and then talk about your fitting for the new bridesmaid dresses." "I'm sorry," Val says coldly. "The what?" "You remember, silly. The other ones were all wrong for the wedding scheme. So we decided to go with these." From the inches-thick wedding planner, Kendra pulls out a picture of a dress that even I can see will make Valerie Jones look like a purple dirigible with puffy sleeves. "But, but . . ." Val sputters. "I'm sorry," Kendra says with a giggle. "I can't believe I didn't tell you before. The seamstress just took your measurements and transferred them to this dress." "But the other dress was beautiful," Val protests. "I looked great in it." "You'll look great in this one, too," Kendra says. "As Felicity pointed out, we need to have dresses that not only complemented the wedding scheme, but that also contrast more with my dress." Val looks over at me, her eyes narrow slits, and slowly shakes her head back and forth. I smile back at her; apparently we won't be telling them tonight. "So you just need to go in tomorrow for one last fitting," Kendra assures her, completely oblivious to the look that has passed between us. "'kay?" She is awaiting Val's answer, and Val finally manages to push a smile onto her face. "'Course it's 'kay, Kendra," she says. We spend the rest of the evening – every minute of it – receiving our marching orders for wedding week, which begins only a week from tomorrow. That's the day that Dave's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Whiting, arrive from California. "So you can pick them up from the airport, can't you, Matthew?" "We'll be happy to," Val says. She is as aware as I am that I have no car. "And then dinner here for six," Kendra states firmly, making a note in her book. "Probably seven," Dave whispers, nowhere near softly enough to prevent Kendra from hearing. "Seven, David?" she asks, a quizzical look marring her porcelain features. "I think Lucy's going to be able to come after all," he says. "Little Lucy?" I ask. "She must be what, eighteen?" "Twenty," Dave answers, with a glance that tells me to shut up. Oh, come on, I want to say, your fiancée can't possibly be jealous of your sister. I mean, it's not like you and your sister were . . . But then of course, I realize that that's not what would matter to Kendra. Lucy Whiting was a babe when I first met her, I guess at the age of fourteen. As a twenty-year-old, with that long, blonde hair and that beautiful smile, she could easily eclipse the bride, even in one of those new purple bridesmaid's jobs. "I thought Lucy was a 'no,'" Kendra says with soft savagery. She pulls a list out of her wedding planner. "Yeah, it turns out that modeling job fell through," Dave explains. "They decided to get someone prettier?" We were getting catty now. Even Val was squirming in her seat a bit. "Someone less expensive." "And where exactly are we supposed to seat her?" Kendra demands, pulling out yet another list. "This seating chart is completely full, David." "Yeah, it turns out that Aunt Billie's not going to make it, so I figured that Lucy could just have her seat." The plan is simply too sensible to permit objection, and Kendra finally decides that she has none. No legitimate objections, at any rate. She icily extracts a red pen and slowly replaces Aunt Billie's name with that of Lucy. "I hope you will consult me next time as soon as you become aware of any other changes in the wedding arrangements." Kendra's voice has taken on a velvet softness that barely contains the fist within. "Sorry, dear," Dave mutters. Later that night, right before the eleven o'clock deadline at which the schedule requires us to leave, Val asks if Kendra and Dave would like either of us to spend the night, in order to make sure there's no romantic touching going on. Kendra makes clear that our presence is unnecessary, and on the way home we agree. There probably wouldn't have been all that much romantic touching going on tonight regardless of the banns. Valerie is furious when she returns from her fitting on Monday morning. "I'm going to look like a big, fat plum," she announces. "Even Jane – she was a suite mate sophomore year – is gonna look horrible in that. And Jane is a fox. I can't believe Kendra is dropping this shit on us at the last minute." "Sorry," I say with as much sympathy as I can muster. We guys have it much easier. We pick the tux up; we look great; we return it." "So what have you been doing?" she asks. "Trying to find a stripper." Val smiles. "For the bachelor party?" she asks. "Yeah. Originally, I was thinking of just going with the tape of Dave's old girlfriends, but now I think I gotta get the poor guy a stripper. But I haven't had any luck on the ol' World Wide Spiderweb." She dug through her purse and pulled out a card. "Here." "Strip-Hers?" "That's who I hired for Kendra's bachelorette party." "Seriously? I thought that was all just talk. I thought that a bachelorette party was just a bunch of girls sitting around ragging on guys." "Yeah, that's what the other two I've been to were. But can you imagine sitting around a bar listening to Kendra talk for three hours? Anyway, I think they also have . . . the kind of strippers you're interested in." I make the call and learn that they do have a counterpart with girls, along with a website featuring pictures of the performers. Together, Val and I study them to decide which will be the best. "That one." I point at one on the second page. "Anna." "Really? You really think that she's the prettiest?" "No," I admit. "I mean, there are five or six others that I guess most people would consider prettier." "No shit. Like her. And her." "But I like that one. And so will Dave. In fact, she reminds me of one of his old girlfriends. I had a bit of a crush on that one." I pause, waiting a few beats to deliver the punch line. "Right up until she figured out she was a lesbian." It got the expected laugh, and before Val was able to get her breath back, I went for the kill. "Yeah, she was the first one. Dave dated four girls in college, and two of them went over to the dark side." Val is holding her stomach, desperately gasping for air. "They're living together now, in fact. Kinda sweet, isn't it?" "Stop it!" Val finally blurts out, slapping me on the arm. "I have a tape of them making love. You wanna hear it?" "Oh, get out," Val says, sobering up quickly. "No, seriously. Dave actually ended up friends with all four, so I had them make a tape for his bachelor party. Linda and Ellen made theirs together, and well, one thing led to another . . ." "Oh, God, that's priceless." "That's what we do at bachelor parties. Embarrass the groom until he's ready to crawl back to the girl he loves and commit to her forever." "Got it," Val says with another laugh. "And the stripper?" "Frankly, it's just not going to take that long to embarrass Dave. So we might as well get some entertainment out of it. So you don't mind if I invite this girl over this week for, um, a preview, do you?" "Oh, no. I already had Rolf here for a preview. I'll make popcorn." Tuesday and Wednesday are two more unsuccessful days in search of an apartment. So on Wednesday afternoon, I take the two-bedroom. Now all I have to do is find a roommate. Wednesday night we set aside for Anna, the stripper. She arrives dressed as a businesswoman, and Val is as taken with her as I am. There'll be no popcorn tonight. Instead, we sit next to each other on the couch and watch Anna go through her routine. "Well?" she asks. The tape has ended and she's been standing in her final pose for the last thirty seconds. We give her another fifteen seconds before I clear my throat. "Yes, well, that was, er, very entertaining. So you're free next Thursday?" Anna slumps into the chair opposite the sofa. "I'm always free," she says, shaking her head. "Seriously?" Val asks. "But you're incredible." "Thanks, hon." Anna gives her a genuine smile. "But you've seen the website. I'm not the best-looking girl on there. I don't get that many calls." "But I'll bet you get every job you do get called for," I tell her. "Yeah, actually I do." It's my turn to get the smile. "Like this one. Here's the address and the time. I'll see you there." "So you like the businesswoman?" she asks eagerly. "I can do others." "That one's fine," I tell her. "Like what?" Val asks. "What do you care? You're not going to be there?" I turn to Anna. "She's running the bachelorette party the same night. With Rolf." I put Rolf's name in air quotes. "Ooh, he's a hunk," Anna tells Val. "All the girls like him." She is, somewhat incongruously for a stripper, blushing. "Anyway," she rushes on, "we have a lot of costumes. The businesswoman is probably my best, though." "I think it's great," I tell Anna. "And her opinion doesn't count." Anna dresses and leaves, and Val starts slamming things around in her apartment, ostensibly cleaning it up. It's an odd behavior, particularly at this time of night, and finally I ask her to stop and sit down. She sits on the chair and crosses her arms in front of her chest. "I'm sorry," I tell her. "All I meant was that –" "My opinion doesn't count," she huffs. "Well, it's just . . ." She continues to glare at me, daring me to tell her the reason. "She a stripper!" I point out. "For a bachelor party! How would it look if the guys found out that you were the one who hired her?" I can tell from the twitch in her mouth that she's softening. "And anyway, you know you like her," I add. "Not as much as you did," she shot back. I smiled at her. "I've always liked girls like that." "Like what?" she asks suspiciously. "You know, she knows she's not the most beautiful one, but she still has this incredible sexiness about her. So even if she's not the most beautiful, she's somehow the most attractive. And she has this way of looking at you, even when she's dancing that makes you feel that she wants you. Not that she wants you to want her, but that she wants you." "I felt the same thing," Val says softly, with a shiver. "It was strange." Kindred spirits. "Excuse me?" Val asks. "I didn't say anything," I say quickly. Did I? "You said something," she says, waiting patiently for me to repeat it. I rack my brain, trying to think of something that I could have said at that point in the conversation that wouldn't get me into any more trouble. Finally, I give up and come clean. "I said that you two were kindred spirits." "How?" she asks, almost whispering. She is leaning forward in the chair now, as if I'm saying something very important. Perhaps I am. I look down at the coffee table between us and press on. "Okay. First of all, I want to say how much I appreciate your letting me stay here and all for the past week. It's been great. You've been amazing. And when I told you that I like girls like Anna, the girl I had in mind was actually you." "Me?" It comes out like a breath. "When this whole wedding thing is over, Val, I'd really like to get to know you better." She takes two steps and vaults the coffee table, landing in a heap on my lap. "You asshole," she says with a smile. "What makes you think I can last a whole 'nother week?" She raises her face to mine, and we kiss. It is a slow, thirsty kiss, and when we finally pull back, each of us no more than a fraction of an inch, it is clear from the way her eyes gaze into mine that we are on the same course. It begins on the couch, as I tug her blouse to one side and begin kissing the soft indentations of her shoulder. She runs her hands through my hair, and then pulls me back to her for an even deeper kiss, our tongues tasting each other. At the same time, our hands are occupied with each other's clothing, unfastening buttons, tugging at sleeves, pulling on zippers. When we are down to cotton and lace, though, Valerie suddenly stops me. "What?" I ask her. "Can we turn off the lights, please?" "I guess. All of them? Why?" She pauses half a beat too long. "Because I like to do it in the dark," she finally says. "You can't honestly think that you're not beautiful," I respond. "Of course I can," she says, a flush rising on her skin. "I'm not." "Of course you are," I insist. "You're gorgeous." "Wait until the wedding," she says. "I'm gonna look like a little donut. And I'm sure these aren't the biggest you've ever seen." "Maybe not," I answer, planting a kiss at the base of her neck. "You noticed that Anna's weren't that big, either, didn't you?" "No." She squirms, ever so slightly, as I continue on down her chest. "You little liar. I saw you looking at them when she finally took her hands away. They weren't big at all. But they were beautiful, just like yours." "Matthew," she whispers. I unhook the clasp between the two cups, peeling each away in turn with my middle fingers pressed just to the outside of her quickly hardening nipples. "You noticed how hard they were, didn't you?" She doesn't answer. Instead, she finally allows herself to lean back, and allows me to make love to her. I slowly push the bra over her shoulders, pulling it down her arms, and then turn my attention to her white panties. I am in no hurry, and I slowly kiss my way south, taking particularly delight in her response to my attentions to the sensitive area just below her navel. She is writhing beneath me now, seemingly oblivious as I slide her panties over her hips and down her thighs. As I work them down off her feet, I push between her legs. "How turned on she was by the thought of other people seeing her." I kiss her thigh. "By the thought of someone enjoying her." With an exhalation of warm breath, I lift my head up and cross to the other thigh, sending shudders through her as the air moves across her wet, shiny slit. "By the thought of someone wanting her." She may be ready now, but I am not. I want the buildup to last as long as I can make it, so I begin alternating, first one thigh and then the other, kissing slightly higher each time. "By the thought of someone loving her." Now. I slowly dip my head, pressing the sides of her cleft between the length of my thumbs and exposing the engorged clit at the top. I suck it between my lips, and begin teasing it with my tongue. "Oh, honey, yes," Valerie whispers, once again holding my head between her hands. She is a full participant now, propping her hips on her arms to hold herself off the couch. Her feet are on the small of my back, my upper arms trapped delightfully between her strong thighs. I continue loving her, wanting to bring her to at least one climax before I take my own selfish pleasure inside her. We pause a little later, while I slide off my own shorts and slide on a condom, and then we reunite, my hard cock setting a slow, even pace inside of her. And as I gradually began to move more quickly, I feel her strong internal muscles clutching at me, willing me to release even as I am willing her to do the same. When it ends, it ends together, and we collapse onto the couch, her head resting on my chest. After we have been lying there for five minutes, she finally speaks. "So, um, maybe you don't have to use the couch tonight, Matt." ******** Our love affair lasts for one glorious night. On Thursday, we find a frantic message from Dave on Val's answering machine after we return home from a late breakfast. "Valerie," he says, his voice quavering ever so slightly. "I need you guys to come over here. Right now. This afternoon. This whole bann thing is really starting to get to Kendra, and I know she'll regret it if she doesn't manage to see it through. Please give me a call as soon as you get in." "Sounds like we'd better let her off the hook," I tell Val as we head for the car. Val slides her arm into mine as we walk. "You're probably right," she says. "I shouldn't be the only happy girl in town, huh?" When Dave lets us in their apartment, however, we find our plans changing once again. I clap him on the arm as he closes the door behind us. "So about this bann thing," I start. He turns to me with an almost feral grin. "Buddy, this is the best thing that's happened to me." "The what?" Val asks. "But you haven't done it in, like, two weeks." "Yeah," Dave says, with a look down the hallway. "Look, all this sexual compatibility stuff that Kendra was telling about. That works really well if you're Kendra. But if you're me . . . " "David." We were all looking down the hallway now. Kendra's throaty growl had sounded so un-Kendra-like that our heads all turned as one to identify the source. "David! What the fuck?" This time it was a scream, as Kendra is covering her completely shaved crotch with one hand and trying unsuccessfully to cover her chest with the other, even as she leaps back into one of the rooms. "See," Dave turns to us with a whisper of exultation. "So what the hell do you want us for?" I ask. "To make it last another week. I mean, I really do love her, and like I said on the phone, I know how much it means to her to do this all the old-fashioned way." "And of course, after another week of this . . ." I point out. "Exactly." Dave wipes the smile off of his face as Kendra emerges from the back dressed in a full-length robe. "I am so embarrassed," she says. "I cannot believe that David didn't tell me we had visitors." "Oh, well, we just dropped in to see how you were holding up," Val says. "And I think we're going to have to advance the timetable a little. I think we're going to have to move in right now." "I don't think so," I say. "Yes, you do, Matthew," Val says. "You're the best man, after all. I'm sure you only want what's best for the bride and groom." I give her as dirty a look as I'm capable of. By the end of the afternoon, though, I am lugging my suitcases over to Dave and Kendra's to act as chaperone, charged with enforcing the second bann. On Saturday, Val will move in as well. Battle of the Banns By Sunday, we feel safe enough to leave them alone for an hour while we go pick up the Whitings at the airport. Kendra's passion has been reduced from a boil to a simmer, and Saturday night's dinner – T-minus 168 hours – was a model of Victorian decorum, with Dave and Kendra assiduously avoiding each other's touch. Now it was our turn to be frustrated, though. Val wasn't quite ready yet to tell Dave and Kendra about us, so she got the guest bedroom while I was once again sleeping on a couch. As we stand here at the airport, just outside the security entrance, in fact, I have come to the realization that we are now as eager to rid ourselves of Dave and Kendra as they are to rid themselves of us. "Whoa, goddess at eleven o'clock." Val draws my attention to the blonde striding just ahead of an attractive couple in their early fifties, her head scanning the crowd for a familiar face. "Well, I wouldn't call her a goddess," I mumble. "Right," Val says. "I think you're cute, too, sweetie. But she is gorgeous." "Matt!" The goddess waves her hand at us and breaks into a run. It is, of course, little Lucy Whiting. I can almost see her running in slow motion, her long, blonde hair flying from side to side, her tanned California body on full display in the white shorts and blue polo short. But she hurtles into me at breakneck speed, and I'm forced to take a step backward and twirl her around as if she were greeting a returning soldier rather than her brother's college roommate. I put her down on the ground, my hands on her hips, and she turns on the same radiant smile she'd had at age fourteen. "It's good to see you, Lucy," I tell her with a smile of my own. "God, it's great to see you, Mattie," she says. She thrusts her hand at Val. "Hi. Lucy Whiting." "Oh, I'm sorry," I say. "Lucy, this is Val Jones, the maid of honor." "It's nice to meet you," Lucy says warmly. "You, too." Val's greeting is several degrees colder. By then, fortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Whiting have caught up to their daughter, and I manage to introduce them to Valerie with a good deal more aplomb. Valerie is still largely silent on the way home, though, so I'm forced to take most of the conversation on myself. I have always gotten on very well with the Whitings, and between my updating them on my life, and their updating me on theirs, we pretty much manage to fill the entire ride home. Dinner, however, does not go quite as well. There are a number of uncomfortable silences. Kendra is mad at Lucy, and by extension at Dave. Val, it turns out is not angry at Lucy, as I had thought, but at me. As if it were my fault that a beautiful blonde jumped on me in the airport. This time when I escape to do the dishes, I'm there by myself for a while, until Mrs. Whiting comes in, towing a reluctant Val behind her. "Good," she says. "Now that I have you both here, I need to ask you something." She looks back into the dining room to make sure that we can't be overheard. "It's just that," she says before taking another look and dropping her voice to a whisper, "do you think everything is all right? I mean, David and Kendra don't seem to be touching each other at all. Watching them pass the salt it looked like they were afraid of catching some sort of disease. Did you see that?" Val looks at me. Apparently, it's my turn to answer. "They're very much in love, Mrs. Whiting," I assure her. "As were Bob and I, and if we'd ever acted like that a week before our wedding both of our parents would have had us committed." I nod. "Probably just nerves then." Val chimes in. "Kendra comes from a very reserved family. A lot of old money. They just need to settle down a little." Mrs. Whiting casts another worried glance toward the dining room, and finally gives a nod of her own. "Okay," she says doubtfully. "I hope you guys are right. Excuse me, now." "I'll come with you," Val says, turning her back on me and accompanying Mrs. Whiting. After we finish dessert, the dinner goes from bad to worse. We adjourn to the living room, and Kendra pulls out her ubiquitous wedding planner (which has now grown to two volumes) to discuss the week's activities. "On Tuesday, we'll split up. The guys will be playing golf – I made Daddy promise to give you lots of points or whatever – and the women will be shopping. Wednesday afternoon we'll all be at Mummy and Daddy's for tea, and then we're going to the club for dinner. Thursday will be lunch at my Aunt Mimi's –" "I thought you're Aunt Mimi lives in Maine," Dave says. "Of course," Kendra agrees with a smile. "But we have to see her before the wedding. She's giving us a very generous present, David, and she does so want to meet your family. Valerie and Matthew are excused from that, of course, because Thursday night is the bachelor and bachelorette parties. Which will end by ten. "O'clock?" Lucy is not particularly good at keeping the surprise out of her voice. Kendra gives her a dirty look. "I'm sure that David wouldn't want to be away from me for much longer that close to our wedding,' she says, before adding quickly, "just as I couldn't stand to be away from him." As Kendra goes on, Lucy looks over at me, and I give her a small shrug. "Friday, of course is the rehearsal dinner, and then David and Matthew will be staying at a hotel near the church." "So Monday is free?" Mrs. Whiting asks. Kendra consults her list again. "Yes," she says, somewhat surprised to find a blank that large. "Good. I need to find a new dress." Kendra's head snaps up so quickly it makes my neck hurt. "A new what?" "A dress," Mrs. Whiting says. "That peach one makes me look like a – well, like a peach." Kendra sputters something about it's being much too late to start playing games with the wedding's color schemes. "Oh, Kendra." Val is simply unable to resist. "We changed the bridesmaid dresses just last week. I'm sure that you and Mrs. Whiting and Lucy can find something appropriate tomorrow." Kendra glares at her friend. "Not me," Lucy says. "I've never been to Boston before, and I want to see something Bostonian." Val raises an eyebrow. "The Old North Church?" "The what?" Lucy asks. "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere. One if by land and two if by sea." Lucy shakes her head. "Actually, I'd like to see that," Mr. Whiting interrupts. "I've never been here before either." "Perfect, Dad," Lucy says with a smile. "Valerie can take you there, and Matt can take me to – isn't there a famous baseball stadium here?" "Fenway Park," Val asks, with even more skepticism. "Fenway's Park," Lucy agrees. "Perfect." "Lucy's high school boyfriend played baseball," Mrs. Whiting explains, "and now she's just infatuated with the sport." "I don't have a car," I warn her. She turns back to Val. "There's a subway, right?" "It's just off the green line. But I think they have a game tomorrow afternoon. Against the Yankees. So it's not like you're just going to be able to stroll around in there." "Well, maybe we can get them to let us in a little early," Lucy says, displaying the attitude of a girl who probably has little trouble getting her way. "You up for it, Matt? Ten o'clock at the hotel?" She's left me no good way to refuse. It's not a happy decision, particularly when, as everyone gets up to leave, Val pointedly lets me know that she's perfectly comfortable bringing the Whitings to their hotel tomorrow, and that she'll see me at some point tomorrow. Which means that she won't see me again tonight. I pick Lucy up at her hotel the next morning for the half-hour trip to Fenway. I'm still very doubtful about her ability to get us inside. But when she marches up the "Will Call" window and gives them her name, I realize that this has all been pre-arranged. "You planned this all along, didn't you?" I ask her as we find our way into the stadium to the seats for which she's been given tickets. She gives me a beautiful smile, and then, as we come out of the tunnel into the sunlight, turns that smile onto the players. "Bobby!" she shrieks, waving her hand. Every player on the field looks up at the blonde in the white shorts and white T-shirt. And then the Red Sox turn and look at the guy stretching in the bullpen, the one turning almost the same color as his socks. "A friend?" I ask when Lucy and I have claimed our seats. "My fiancée," she smiles. "You're engaged? Congratulations. Why didn't you say something yesterday?" "'Cause I haven't told Mom or Dad yet. Remember that guy Mom said I had a crush on? That's Bobby. He just got called up from the minors this week." "So why don't you want to tell your parents?" "He just proposed last week, when I had a modeling job in North Carolina, where he happened to be playing." "Is that how you take jobs?" I start laughing. "Sometimes," she says, giving me arm a punch. "Shut up, Matt. Anyway, I don't want to make it look like I'm trying to steal Kendra's spotlight, so I'll wait until after the, uh, happy couple has left for the honeymoon. Although, actually, they do look pretty happy, you know? When I first met Kendra I thought I'd end up choking her. But they seem very good for each other now, don't they?" "Yeah," I agree. "Although I can see why you don't want to cross her path right now." "Exactly. So you have to promise, Matt, not to tell anyone. Not Dave, not your girlfriend, nobody." "Alright. Um, what girlfriend?" "Valerie isn't your girlfriend?" "Well, yeah," I admit. "But how did you know? I mean, as soon as you showed up and jumped into my arms, she got all mad and stuff." She looks at me for a second, and then bursts into laughter. "Oh, honey, that's not what she's mad at. Well, maybe a little. But it wasn't until you introduced us." "What did I do?" She shakes her head, still laughing. "Do you remember how you introduced her to us?" "As the –" Oh, shit. "As the maid of honor," Lucy reminds me. "Shit," I say aloud. "But she told me that she didn't want Kendra to find out, so I figured she wouldn't want me to tell anyone. Just like you." "I think it's a little different there, Matt. I don't think my parents are going to shrieking 'Matt's got a girlfriend! Matt's got a girlfriend!'" By then I was already thinking ahead. "So I could just tell her that you're engaged.–" "Absolutely not," Lucy interrupts. "You promised." "But it would help me –" Lucy's not going to let me finish any sentences. "Apologizing would help you. Nobody finds out, Matthew." We watch batting practice, and the game, in which her boyfriend pitches a scoreless eighth inning. I return to Dave and Kendra's apartment to find that the dress incident has been smoothed over. Kendra is happy, and Mrs. Whiting is happy, the wedding planner is apparently happy, and Dave is overjoyed. Mr. Whiting is back at the hotel, and Valerie is nowhere in sight. I call, and nobody picks up the phone. I call again that evening; still no answer. Tuesday goes by without a Val sighting. She doesn't answer the door; she doesn't answer her messages. At least not the ones that I've left. I end up having to team up with golf with Mr. Whiting against the Andersons because Dave has a blister on his thumb (from dance lessons, of all things), and I take my frustrations out on them. At ten dollars a hole, Mr. Whiting and I net a hundred bucks. By then, of course, I've blown it all on cell phone calls to Val's machine. Although as late as Sunday I could never have imagined myself saying this, I find myself looking forward to tea at the Andersons on Wednesday afternoon. Unfortunately, as we climb into Dave's car, Kendra explains that Val won't be able to make it; apparently she has just learned that her apartment building is being converted to condos. At that point, tea becomes an agonizing event. It's not until I get to the club, and have a gin and tonic – two, maybe – in me, that I am finally able to leave a long, rambling message on Val's answering machine. Then it's back to the bar. I manage to make it through dinner without disgracing myself, but Kendra and Dave have to help me into the elevator to get to their apartment. And suddenly there she is, waiting for us in the hallway. "Valerie," I say breathlessly, lurching forward and collapsing onto the floor. I wake up the next morning with what is, without a doubt, the worst hangover I have ever had in my life. Valerie has coffee and bacon waiting for me. Kendra and Dave have left for Maine with the Whitings in tow. We are all alone, and I feel horrible. "Did you mean it?" Val asks me softly after she has settled me into a chair at the breakfast table. I have no earthly idea what she's talking about, but I know that there is only one correct answer. And before I can give it to her, the phone rings, a sound that threatens to rend the still fabric of my present universe. Val answers it, and I hear a shriek from the phone. I know what's coming next, but my hands cannot obey in time, and they are still a foot away from my ears when Val replies with a shriek of her own. "Janieeeeeeeee! Where are you, girlfriend? Right now? Okay, I'll come. See you in a bit, girl." I have forgotten that Thursday's schedule called for the arrival of the rest of the wedding party: four bridesmaids and four groomsmen. All of them are flying to Boston for the big event and none of them have managed to select planes that land within forty-five minutes of each other. So the entire day is basically one long carousel ride between Logan Airport and the hotel where everyone is staying. My assignment is to be in the apartment to answer the phone, and then to relay the information to Val on her cell. Which leaves us with no time together alone. By the time everyone is settled at the hotel, Dave and Kendra have returned from their excursion to Maine, and we're just about ready to leave for the bachelor party. As a prelude, the groomsmen and I take Dave out to dinner first, to establish a base for our later drinking. We go beyond the base, of course, and arrive at the bar, where I've rented the private room, a little late and a little over-served. Except for me. Not only am I the master of ceremonies and the designated driver, but the very smell of alcohol tonight is enough to send my stomach into flips. The party is already in full swing when we arrive. Dave's local friends are already here, and in another thirty minutes Anna will make her appearance. After twenty minutes, though, there is a knock on the door. It's one of the bar's bouncers, and when he asks who is "in charge" all of the fingers point to me. He beckons me out, and lets me know that the manager needs to speak with me. "Were we too loud?" I ask. It's a bachelor party, for crying out loud. At a bar. What the hell could be wrong? The first thing that's wrong is that the manager is standing there with Val. Another bouncer is standing off to one side. "What the hell are you doing here?" I demand of Valerie as I approach. "Do you know each other?" the manager asks. "We're the maid of honor and the –" Val begins. "We're boyfriend and girlfriend," I interrupt, earning a big smile from Val, and an even more confused look from the manager. "But we're also the maid of honor and best man at a wedding this weekend. Who evidently booked the bachelor and bachelorette parties at the same bar." "Yeah, well about that," the manager says, scratching his head. "Joey here found your two strippers doin' it in the back room." "Anna?" I ask. "And Rolf?" Val asks. "Well, good for him." "Good for her," I insist. After all, it sounded like Rolf was quite a catch. The manager is now looking at the two of us like we're lunatics. "Yeah, well, bad for both of you. They wouldn't stop, so we kinda had to throw 'em both outta here, ya know?" We turn to him in bewilderment. "You couldn't just ask 'em to stop?" I ask. He shakes his head. "Tried that." "You couldn't just hose 'em down?" Val wonders. "Tried it. Took both Joey and Frankie here to pull 'em apart. So, like, I'm sorry, kids, but you'll have to do without." "But those girls want a stripper!" Val protests. "Um, yeah," I chime in. "The guys, too. Although they'll be happy with the other thing." "Is there a problem?" "Kendra!" Val and I yelp in unison. She has apparently come out of her party to see what the problem is. "Mattie!" Kendra says with a big smile. Kendra may have already had one too many as well. "Does this mean all the bachelors are here, waiting for their stripper?" "No strippers," Val says. "No strippers?" Kendra is pouting now. "What happened?" "Apparently they misbehaved and got bounced." "So what was the other thing that Mattie was talking about when I came over?" The entire crowd – Val, Kendra, Joey, Frankie, and the manager – turns to look at me. I hem. I haw. And then Joey helps me out. "Is this that tape you wanted me to play, boss?" "At nine o'clock?" I ask him. "Nine o'clock?" he asks. "I thought it was eight. Should be starting just about now." "Shit!" I run back to the room just in time to hear Jenny's voice come over the speakers in the party room. She was Dave's first girlfriend in college, a girl who now has a voice that actually seems to purr. "Hi, Dave, this is Jenny; remember me? From freshman year. Your freshman year, actually. I was a junior, remember? The older woman." Dave was staring at the ceiling, as if she were actually up there. "Matt told me you were getting married this weekend, and I just wanted to tape this little greeting for your bachelor party. Hi, boys. Some of you probably remember me from school, right?" There was a cheer from the groomsmen and a few other guests. "Some of you better than others, huh, Brian?" Brian Chambers, one of the groomsmen, was turning as red as a beet. "For the rest of you, maybe I should tell you what I look like. And what I'm wearing. And what I'm not wearing." The complete and utter silence that descends upon the room at that moment is broken by yet another knock on the door which precedes by only a few seconds the entrance of Kendra Anderson, followed by all of the girls from the bachelorette party. My first thought was that Jenny ought to shut up. Jenny herself wasn't too bad, but the next girl, Rachel, was going to go into intimate detail about how well-endowed Dave was. And the last two, Linda and Ellen, were the ones making love. Val stops me at the door, her eyes twinkling. "Let it run," she says quietly. "Seriously?" "Kendra knows Dave wasn't a virgin." It turns out to be excellent advice. Everyone enjoys teasing Dave, and by extension Kendra. And everyone stands there in rapt silence listening to Linda and Ellen. Until they start sitting, that is, both men and women crossing their legs to try to hide how aroused they've become. The party, which by rule is entitled to last until ten, breaks up at nine, as all the men and women in the room start pairing off with each other and heading back to their respective hotels. Brian and Janie beg the use of Val's apartment. Val is a little tipsy by then, having apparently realized that she no longer needed to take responsibility for getting the bride home. Dave and Kendra are wasted. So a little after nine, I manage to pour them all into Dave's car for the ride home. "I still wanna stripper." Kendra is pouting in the seat directly in back of me. "Mattie'll do it," Val pipes up from the seat next to her. "He will not," I insist. "And what about me?" Dave is sitting beside me. "Oh, Val will strip for you," I say breezily. That'll teach her. "And Matt'll strip for Kendra," Val exults. "Perfect." Battle of the Banns Or me. It'll teach one of us. "Val," I whine. "I don't really think –" "I know, baby," she interrupts me. "But I love you anyway." "I love you, too," Kendra says. Hell, I might as well strip for her. It's not like she's going to remember it tomorrow. Keeping the three together on the way to Dave and Kendra's apartment is a little like herding chickens. But finally we make it there, and I get a chance to talk to Val in the living room. "Are you sure about this?" "Kendra told me she thought you were cute." "How'd that come up?" "When I told her that you and I are going to be sharing an apartment this fall." Val grabs my ears and yanks me down for a long, wet kiss. By the time we're done, I realize that that is what she was talking about when she asked if I meant it. I find myself filled with joy, not only that I apparently had the courage to ask her, but also that she had apparently accepted. "All right!" I shout. "Let's get this show on the road!" "Woo-hoo!" Kendra shouts back from the bedroom. Val quickly digs through the CD collection and finds something that she thinks we can strip to. When the music starts, we leap into the bedroom, and find Dave and Kendra sitting on the bed as far apart as they can from each other. Dave is dressed in his boxers, Kendra in a T-shirt and pink panties. The dance gets underway. About three minutes in, as I give in to Kendra's entreaties and pull my shirt over my head, I can't believe I'm doing this. Next to me, Val already has her shirt off, and is teasing poor Dave by unsnapping and re-snapping her jeans. I try to focus on Kendra instead, and she makes it easier by pulling her T-shirt up and lightly playing her fingers over the crotch of her panties. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Dave rubbing the front of his shorts. At that point it almost turns into competitive stripping. Both Val and I appear to be determined to get our two best friends to actually masturbate while they're watching us. Val is already out of her bra, shaking her boobs at Dave, so I quickly lower my jeans and kick them aside, letting Kendra see the erection in my briefs. "Woo-hoo!" she cries again. "Yeah, Mattie." I reach down for my briefs, but Val suddenly steps in front of me, her back turned to the bed. "What are you doing?" I hiss at her. By now she's down to her panties as well. "Trust me, baby." She smiles at me, and puts her hands on my chest. "Down in front!" Kendra yells. Val winks, and slowly starts sinking to her knees. Once there, she reaches up for my briefs and tugs them over my hips. "Down in front!" Kendra yells again. "What's that, sweetie?" Val asks over her shoulder. "You want me to go down on him in front of you?" Oh, God. It has been over a week we made love, and the feather-light touch of those lips on my cock is almost enough to make me explode right then. But that would end the show much too soon. "Oh, my Gawd," Kendra says. "Are they really doing it? Dave, is she really sucking him?" Dave doesn't care. He has pulled his cock out and his slowly stroking it. Kendra looks over and, not to be outdone, pulls aside her panties and begins touching herself. None of us are going to last much longer. I pull Val to her feet, and turn her around in front of me, pushing her forward so that her hands rest on the bed. Now it's my turn to pull her panties off, and apply my tongue to her sex. I can just imagine the faces that she's giving Dave and Kendra. "Now, Matt," I hear her say. "Fuck me." I stand and step up behind her. I slide in easily. "Oh, God, this feels so good, you guys," Val says. "I can't believe this." Kendra laughs, a low, throaty laugh of a type I wouldn't have thought her capable of producing. I'm fucking my girlfriend, and thinking about how sexy I find her best friend. I am in so much trouble, at least until I notice Val's head turned toward Dave, her eyes apparently locked onto the rigid cock he strokes in his hand. "I'm gonna cum!" he moans. "That's right," Val says softly. "Come for momma." She crawls forward, pulling herself off me, and takes Dave in her mouth. "You, too, Mattie." I snap my head over to look at Kendra, who is crooking a finger at me, a big smile on her face. What the hell. I step around the bed, and she grabs for me, taking me inside her mouth all the way down. With a groan, I explode inside her. Kendra groans as well, evidently having brought herself to the same point. From the other side of the bed, I hear twin groans from Dave and Val. We collapse on the bed together, and when I wake in the morning, I find Kendra's arm around my waist, her breasts pressed against my back. I am staring into Val's eyes, dancing eyes that tell me that she loves me even before she whispers it. "I love him, too," Kendra murmurs. "Now go back to sleep, bitch." The rest of that day – the day before the wedding – is a blur. There are tuxes to pick up, wedding and reception planners to obsess with, and finally the rehearsal and the rehearsal dinner. It is ten o'clock that evening before Dave and I check into our room at the hotel. "So, um, about last night . . ." he says hesitantly before we're about to turn in. "The party?" I grin at him. "Did you like it?" He gives a small sigh of relief. "Yeah, man," he says. "Good party." The next time we see the girls, I am, to be honest, stunned. Apparently Kendra has had a change of heart, because the first bridesmaid to come down the aisle – Janie, on the arm of a very smug looking Brian – is dressed not as a plum but in a gorgeous, elegant, dark blue gown. Each bridesmaid looks more just that more beautiful than the last, until finally, at exactly 6:15 p.m., Val begins her procession up the aisle of the church. She actually takes my breath away. And yet as beautiful as she is, it is clearly Kendra who commands all the attention as her father escorts her up the aisle. Beside me I hear Dave's gasp. He really is a very lucky man. The wedding goes just as it was rehearsed. The only surprise is the look on the minister's face when, after he solemnly intones, "If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together – let them speak now or forever hold their peace," the groom, the bride, and the maid of honor all turn to look at me. Kendra and Dave are both eager to learn if they've passed; Val's eyes are once again telling me that she loves me. "No, I'm cool," I tell the minister with a nod. "Um, good," he says, and continues with the rest of the service. I wink at Val. She winks at me. The reception is where the problem happens. But then, the reception planner wasn't anywhere near as good anyway. We have eaten dinner, and the band is getting ready to start. But first we have to cut the cake, and have the wedding toast. I'm standing near the cake, a microphone on the table behind me, looking over the speech I prepared several weeks ago. Lucy approaches, looking quite lovely in a strapless pale blue dress. "Nervous?" she asks. "A little. Plus now that I've met Kendra, and seen her and Dave together, it just seems a little, I don't know, generic." I had noticed the little kids running around – Kendra's cousins for the most part – but had paid them little attention. They'd been very well-behaved for the most part. But they have apparently gotten a little bored, and two of them have started to chase each other around. And when the first one trips, and falls against the table holding the cake, it's almost like I can see the whole thing happening in slow motion. I try to step in front of Lucy, and by some miracle I manage to grab hold of the top two tiers of the cake, saving them from the fate that befalls the rest of it, which is to end up partly on the floor and partly on me. The entire room freezes, and I have more than enough time to look around, taking mental snapshots: Dave with a stunned look on his face; Lucy with a dab of frosting on her chest, just above the dress; the boys' mother, wondering how to protect her boys from what must surely follow; the reception planner, looking almost as horrified. And Kendra, who strides up to us, her mouth twitching, her eyes flicking back and forth from me to the table to the boys. She reaches behind for the mike on the table and flicks it on. "Clean up on aisle four." The crowd exhales and then bursts into sustained laughter. Kendra reaches across me and with a long, exquisitely manicured finger, wipes the frosting off Lucy's breast and pops it in her mouth. "Sorry," she says with a smile. "Bride always gets the first taste. Now let's take you off and get you cleaned up, Mattie." She summons the simpering reception planner and hands her the cake that I've saved, and starts dragging me to the ladies' room. Val joins us there at the door. "Where are you going?" "To clean up the best man," Kendra says. "He's my best man, bitch." Val is laughing too now. "I think I need to supervise this cleaning." They plonk me down on the couch and, with paper towels, fingers, and even a few tongues, get me ready to rejoin the reception. When we emerge from the ladies' room, the guests break into applause, clearly as happy as we all are that Kendra hasn't let this ruin her day. They cut what remains of the cake, and pour the champagne. I push my speech back into my pocket and decide to improvise. "When I first saw Dave and Kendra together, a little over three weeks ago, I said to myself, here's a very attractive woman, and a very good-looking man. I'll give them six months together, a year at the outside." That produces some good-natured booing and surprised looks from the bride and groom. "But having watched them over the past three weeks, I can now see what I couldn't before. These two are perfectly suited to each other, and I have no doubt that whatever life throws at them, from cake to kids, they will be able to handle it with the love and warmth that they will always share. Ladies and gentleman, the bride and groom." Kendra is throwing her arms around my neck as Dave is shaking my hand, and Val joins us for a group hug. The floor gets cleaned up, too, and a wonderful evening of dancing begins. I dance with Val, with Mrs. Whiting, with Mrs. Anderson, and of course with Kendra. Her eyes twinkling almost as much as Val's do, she thanks me for all I've done for her and Dave the past three weeks. I wonder how much she really knows about the banns. But I'm not going to ask. At most of the weddings I've been to, the picture of the bride and groom leaving the reception shows a radiant couple eagerly anticipating not just their honeymoon but the whole rest of their lives. Dave and Kendra's will have that, but there will also be a sort of hungry look that will mystify everyone other than the four of us. Twenty minutes later, Val and I are sitting at an empty table, drinking the last of the champagne, and planning the rest of our own lives together. Lucy walks up to us, her fiancée in tow. Apparently they had an afternoon game, and he arrived just after the toast. Lucy told her parents a few minutes ago – I could hear the shrieks from across the room. Now she pulls out a chair next to me and sticks out her humongous engagement ring for Val and I to admire. "Very nice," I say. "It's beautiful," Val agrees. "So has anyone told you about the marriage banns yet?" My thanks to Hermit, for his excellent editorial assistance. Please drop me a line and let me know what you thought of the story. Thanks, Marsh.