21. 21
21
Harmony Bridal Boutique was a small family-owned shop a few miles away. Then again, in a town of thirteen thousand people, everything was only a few miles away.
The sun-faded imprint of the old Radio Shack logo shone behind the shop’s new rose-pink ones. Female mannequins in bejeweled gowns crowded the tacky window display. Male mannequins stood in the other window wearing various suits and tuxedos that, to him, all looked fucking identical. They might as well be fashionable prison uniforms. Hell, he’d probably look better in inmate orange.
It would go well with his bronzed skin tone…
Maybe he should get Will to add an orange jumpsuit and ankle shackles to the website. Surely, there were some rich old ladies who would like to fantasize about being the domineering lady Warden bossing around prisoner zero-eight-two-nine-five.
As he pulled open the door, a sickening feeling washed over him. A blinding array of wedding attire stood all around him, overflowing into the area behind the counter at the center of the store, where a young clerk beamed at him.
“Hi! Can I help you?”
Barrett’s skin crawled at all of the pastels, lace, and chiffon as he approached her.
“Hi, yes, you can.” Barrett looked around at the walls, striped with white gowns and black suits like some bizarre piano he would never be equipped to play.
“I’m supposed to get fitted for my tux. The groom said to come here. Said it would be under the Jessup-Quinn account.”
“No problem. I’m Marcy. I’ll be helping you today. We will get you measured in a jiff.”
“Great.”
The clerk flipped through a massive binder, one that had to weigh a good fifteen pounds. “Are you family or a member of the party?”
“Bridal party.” He smiled. “Best man, actually.”
“Oh, congratulations. This is such a fun time for you.” Marcy peered at him with steel-blue eyes. Something about her seemed hopeful and innocent, putting him at ease. She didn’t seem like a pressuring menace, more like a sickeningly sweet helping hand.
“Sure.” He cracked half a smile. “I’ll take your word for it.”
He glanced to his right. At a short ten-foot-long rack, the boutique had a lingerie display. There were filthy snow-white numbers, some with bows attached. There were fishnet body stockings, bralettes, garters, panty sets, and lacy negligees galore. He couldn’t help but imagine Chastity’s body in some of them as Marcy penciled some things into the book.
Moments later, a door swung open behind him, and a gaggle of women stepped out of a room with a platform and a wall of mirrors. The women were clucking excitedly about the bride, a female in the center that they were all fawning over.
Then, without warning, a woman came out of the room behind them with a wedding gown raised over her head to keep it off the floor. She hollered to Marcy, and he recognized the voice immediately. It sent a shock straight through him.
“ She said ‘Yes’ to the dress, Marcy! ” Chastity sang.
Barrett’s eyes widened as she came into view, and for a split second, he was in that back room with her in his mind, holding her naked body to his, standing tall on the platform, cupped hands pulling on her pierced nipples, making her watch the pleasure in her own face as he entered her inviting warmth from behind.
“Barrett!” Chastity’s excited voice was like music in his ears. She was dressed nicely in a simple black suit top, white blouse, and a black skirt that hugged her delicious figure like it had been made just for her. Her rainbow hair was twisted into a messy updo.
She jogged toward him, holding the giant, plastic-shrouded pile of fabric like a dying person laid across the crooks of her arms.
“Long time no see. It’s been like… what? Three hours?”
Barrett laughed. “You said you worked at a boutique. I should have put two-and-two together. I feel like an idiot.”
“No! Don’t.” She leaned up and gave him a simple peck on the cheek.
Marcy’s eyes darted to the two of them, watching the interaction carefully. Finally, she whispered. “Oh. Is he why you were thirty minutes late today?”
Chastity’s smile vanished. “No. I told you. I had to talk to the super. I didn’t have any hot water. And trust me, after that party, I went to last night, a shower was mandatory .”
Marcy nodded and wrote more things in her giant tome. “Alright. Mr. Andrews, right?”
“That’s correct. How did you know?”
“You’re the last one from your bridal party to be fitted. It was just process of elimination. Follow me. I’ll have you look through our catalog of ties and pocket squares while Chastity gets ready to take your measurements.”
He followed Marcy to a corner in the back, settling into a simple black leather armchair with a book the size of War and Peace in his lap. He flipped through endless pages of what seemed like the same necktie over and over with subtle differences he couldn’t see. He flipped past the bow ties completely to the pocket square section, starting with a horrendous vomit-green paisley one that made him want to gag.
He didn’t even know the colors of Will and Ava’s wedding, nor did he care.
“Can’t I just do a black pocket square?” He asked no one in particular. “Doesn’t black go with, like, everything?”
A few minutes later, Chastity stood by the door to the room in the back. “Mr. Andrews!” She beckoned him over with a finger.
He grinned.
The small room was fairly bare with white walls and bright, diffused tube lights in every corner, giving the medium-sized room a Heaven-type vibe. Barrett suddenly regretted leaving his sunglasses in the car.
A foot-tall white, wooden platform sat in the middle. A small changing room jutted out from one corner, its door open wide, unloved wedding gowns hanging on a hook inside. In front of the platform sat a row of stools and a wall of mirrors butted against each other like some kind of dance studio. In another corner, there was a beverage cart with an empty bottle of cheap champagne, an opened can of seltzer water, and several plastic drink flutes.
“Jesus, it’s so bright here. These on a dimmer at all?” He squinted while his eyes adjusted.
“Afraid not,” she smiled, shutting the door and pulling the measuring tape from around the back of her neck. “Can I have you stand on the platform for me, sir?”
“Oh, Jesus.” His eyes fluttered. “Girl, keep calling me ‘ Sir,’ and we are going to have a real problem here.”
She tried to hide her smile but failed miserably. “So you’ve taken to stalking now, huh?”
“What can I say? I just can’t get enough of you.” He touched her lip and let his finger trail down her chin, her neck, softly teasing the skin below her throat.
“Sir, I need you to strip down to your underwear so that I can get accurate measurements for your tux.”
“What if I’m not wearing any?” he asked, face dead-serious.
“I can see if Marcy has a pair of boxers out there for purchase.”
“Alright, you called my bluff.” He stripped out of his boot-cut jeans, revealing a pair of briefs in an American flag design. “I’m sure this is already going to cost a fortune. No sense piling on more expenses.”
Chastity toyed with her measuring tape.
“You know I’m living on a maid’s salary, right?”
“Poor baby.” She grinned. “Though, I hear all the horny old broads in Jackson tip mighty fine if you give ’em a little show while you clean. Just food for thought.”
She winked, and Barrett thought his bare knees might buckle for a split second.
Chastity looked down at his underwear. “Mmmm. America the beautiful.”
Barrett smiled at the ceiling. “You’re already having way too much fun with this.”
“Sir, for the most accurate measurements, I’m gonna have to ask you to lose the shirt, too.”
“You’re getting a little pushy.” He looked down at the tape in her hands. “Just remember when you start measuring, not everything is going to be accurate. It’s chilly in here.”
She burst into a laugh and then grabbed one of the stools along the wall and placed it on the platform beside him.
He held his muscular arms out, the pinnacle of male perfection. Like Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. She pulled a small notepad and pencil out of a lace-covered bin above the door and set the items atop the stool. Quietly, she measured around the widest part of his chest, making sure to brush her hands against his hardened pecs. She scribbled the number down on a pad.
As a charged silence fell between them, her hands grazing various parts of his body, she measured his hips, wrists, and biceps.
As she measured his shoulders, she tiptoed up and nuzzled her nose against the skin near the back of his neck, hot breath against him as she dragged her lips across a few inches of his skin.
He moaned a little, softly. “You know your boss is going to come in here and see you harassing the customers.”
“I’d shudder to think about what would happen if she saw me do this. Her father would fire my ass in a heartbeat.”
Chastity’s hand slid around the front of his waist, down along the hard cut of his abdomen, behind the flag, deep into his briefs. He moaned again as she massaged his cock, strengthening his already-growing erection.
“ Jesus Christ, ” he whispered into the ether.
Her hand retracted, and he felt the tape press from his neck to the top of his underwear before she scribbled more numbers on the pad.
She measured his neck, placing soft kisses down his spine as she did. Barrett’s flag was at full mast, underwear tented from his arousal.
She measured around his waist and hips, writing quickly.
“Can I have you turn around, please, sir ?” She waited a moment. “I have to get your inseam .”
“Gladly,” he said, barely finding the voice to speak as he spun in place to face her.
He craned his neck down and kissed her hard, stealing the breath from her lungs when he did. He pulled her face against his, tongue fierce and probing. He grabbed the lapels of her blazer and yanked it halfway down her arms, limiting her arm movements like handcuffs, kissing the tops of her breasts with fervor.
“Does that door have a lock,” he muttered between kisses.
“No,” she panted, eyeing the handle. Marcy could walk in at any moment and see them like this. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his lips on her skin.
Seconds later, her jacket was off, blouse tugged over her head, bra unsnapped in a lump on the white platform, one of her pierced nipples in his hot mouth.
She started to moan, but he clasped a hand over her mouth to silence her. His lips unlatched from her breast, and he quietly growled in her ear. “You don’t want Marcy to hear us, now do you?”
She shook her head, mouth still silenced by his palm. He plunged his other hand beneath the waistband of her skirt, beneath her panties, slipping his middle finger through her folds, feeling the soaked opening beneath.
“ God damn, Aphrodite .”
She bit his palm softly, eyes slits at the sensation of his curled finger hooking up inside of her.
“You should measure my inseam .” He nodded down to his cock, hard as stone between their bodies.
She pulled away and smiled, lowering to her knees. She slowly tugged his underwear down to his thighs.
She looked up at him, amber eyes begging to taste him. He nodded, and she took him into her mouth, slipping her lips around and taking him deep into the back of her throat.
Barrett wanted to scream, biting his own fist to stay quiet. He stared down at her breasts, pierced and full, jiggling as she bobbed, never once choking despite how deep she could take him.
Pressure building, he pulled away, grabbed her by the armpits, and pulled her to her feet. He slapped away the notepad, flinging it into the corner and resting his ass on the cold, bare wood of the stool. He grabbed at her skirt, roughly jerking it up until the bottom was at her rib cage. He snatched her up by her waist, arms powerful and unyielding.
He wanted her.
Now .
“ Fuck, my wallet… a condom ,” he panted.
“I’ll take a Plan B tomorrow.”
The ‘O’ sound hadn’t even come out of her mouth before he lifted her onto his lap. She clung to him, bare ass on undeniable display for anyone who dared to come through the unlocked door.
In one deft motion, he slid her lace thong to the side and drove her soaking-wet pussy down onto his cock.
She gasped.
“ Shhhhhh .” He clutched her close by her rainbow hair, wrenching her toward his and pushing her down further on his dick by it until he was as deep as he could possibly be inside of her.
He kissed her, rocking her hips up and down upon his own with strong hands, pounding her pelvis down against him with raw aggression. She ground against him, desperate for friction, hand sliding down between them to play with her clit.
He groaned quietly in her ear. “ Fuck, Aphrodite. You’re gonna make me cum. ”
She kissed him hard, biting his bottom lip so roughly that he thought it might bleed. Even as he let her go, she pounded her pelvis against him harder, legs trembling.
Finally, she thrashed, flinging her head back, arching her spine, body shuddering in his lap.
He closed his eyes, squeezed both of her ass cheeks hard in his hands, and plunged up into her faster for his own release. He seized, arched feet shaking against the ground like the hooves of an unsteady fawn. Her hand slipped over his mouth. He ground his teeth tight, neck taut, veins popping as he came.
“Measurements are all set, Marcy. I’ll get these in the book, and our in-house tailor will get to work on it, Mr. Andrews,” Chastity said, nervously smoothing the fallen locks of rainbow hair coming out of the back of her bun.
“Thank you, Ms. Erikson. I was really worried that this was going to be an awful drag, but I must say, you made that a very pleasant experience.”
Barrett turned toward Marcy at the desk and pointed to Chastity as she retreated back into the room with the platform.
“Top-notch customer service. If you guys have a questionnaire, I’d be happy to fill one out. I’m a very satisfied customer.”
Marcy seemed suspicious but returned her eyes to her paperwork. “I’m glad to hear it, Mr. Andrews. I’m sure the owner will be pleased to hear that.”
“We all set here?” Barrett tapped his fingers nervously on the counter, waiting for the girl to clear him to leave.
“Not quite. Just going through a few things to make sure we put the right order in. It looks like the Jessups picked pearl, coal, and ruby as their theme. Groomsmen all have pearl shirts, and it seems Ava left us a note here to put you in a ruby shirt with a pearl tie and pocket square.”
“It’s weird. I play dress up for my main job, and it doesn’t feel like nearly as much of a chore as all of this wedding stuff?”
“Oh yeah? What do you do?” She never looked up.
Barrett froze for a second, unsure how to answer it. His mind raced through several of his barely-there outfits during the last few days, and he suddenly felt ashamed of his new vocation.
“I… run… a playhouse. Outside of town,” he lied. “Like, wayyy outside of town. We do a lot of Shakespeare. Boring stuff.”
That got her attention. “Oh, huge thespian here.”
“That’s awesome. Love you who love.”
She quirked an eyebrow at him and then continued, “I love Shakespeare. I actually was in Romeo and Juliet in high school.”
“Oh, no way.” His eyes refused to blink as he mentally shit himself. “I’ll bet you were a top-notch Juliet.”
Her eyes met his, full of disappointment. “I was Lady Capulet, actually.”
“Bummer.” He looked around, eager to end the conversation.
“Yeah, and in Midsummer , I was—”
“Any way we could wrap this up? We’ve got auditions this afternoon, and it’s a long, loooong drive.”
“Ooooh, whatcha casting for this time? Othello?”
“Hamlet,” he said. It was the only other Shakespearean play he could name.
“Oooooh, I love Hamlet. ‘ To be, or not to be. That is the question. ’”
“Actually, the question is, ‘Are we all good here?’”
She frowned and scribbled something else down. “Yes, we’re all set. You can pay for the suit when you come back for your fitting. We will give you a call when it’s ready.”
“How much is this gonna run me?”
“Suit, shirt, pocket square, and tie…” She turned away, furiously clicking her middle finger against an old-school calculator, tallying up the expenses. “It’ll be $317.83.”
“Jesus Christ, you have it in your book that I’m only renting it, right?”