“How the hell are you doing this to me?” he whispers, looking down at me with a puzzled, horny expression. His gaze is smoldering, confused, wild. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this . . . ”
He swallows, maybe afraid of the next word.
I don’t even think, and I barrel ahead. “Alive,” I add. For a second I wince, afraid that the word he was looking for was moist.
But he smiles, and kisses me again, his tongue probing my mouth. I moan and arch my back, moving against him. I can feel his erection pressing into me. Damn, I want to fuck him again. Like now. Right now. No passing Go. No collecting two hundred dollars.
Nate’s hand slips up under my dress, his fingers tracing my bra. My nipples come to attention at once under his touch, and I gasp. He starts to pull at my strap, to take my dress off . . . .
“Wait. Hold on,” I say, trying to sit up.
Nate is off me at once, lying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. His chest rises and falls rapidly with his breathing; looks like he needs to calm down. And judging by the tent he’s pitching, maybe take a cold shower as well.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to stop . . . that.” I swallow. “I just can’t go around having these fun Love in the Afternoon type montages until we know for sure whether we are or are not. You know.” I pause.
“Married,” Nate adds, finishing my sentence.
“I was going to say dehydrated, but yeah. That works too.” Nothing like a little humor to lighten the mood. Or lower the erection.
Finally, Nate sighs and sits up. I’m glad we’re going to have an actual discussion about this like actual adults, even if David Tennant is stomping his little white tennis shoes all pissed off that he isn’t fucking a Chicago lawyer right now.
“What’s the next step?” Nate asks, as I get off the bed and adjust myself. You know. Like a lady. “Shit, we need to figure out what we’re doing fast. The wedding.” He rubs his face, curses softly. “Mike and Stacy’s wedding’s in a few hours. We have time, right?”
He looks over at me. He’s lucky he’s in the groom’s party. If he were a bridesmaid, he’d be in the hotel room with Stacy for the rest of the afternoon to help get her ready. Guys, they can just show up twenty minutes before the ceremony with their suit in a bag over their shoulder. It’s a man’s world.
“Yeah, we have time. Obviously, we need to find the chapel. We’ve got the photos, and there’s got to be someone who knows where we went. Maybe we can call that adventure service and ask if I was wearing the veil when we came in last night. That might give us an idea of timeline.”
I flip open my phone and stare at the picture. There we are, Nate with lipstick kisses all over his face, Elvis looming over us in the background. Where are you, king of rock ’n roll and shady matrimonial practices?
Just then, the door across the living room opens. Nate’s friend with the frosted tips and the affable smile, Tyler, steps in without a shirt on. Nice. Very nice physique. It would be even nicer if we weren’t all staring at each other with open mouths and wide eyes.
Tyler looks from me to Nate, and a wild smile stretches over his face. He even whoops and pumps his fist in the air.
“Dude. You scored! Awesome, man.” Tyler comes across the room for the sole purpose of handing Nate an imagined post-coital high five.
This is my life now.
He looks over at me. “And hey, uh, good for you too. Nate’s a really good lay. So I’ve been told.”
Tyler then high-fives me as well. Aw. That’s . . . equal opportunity, I guess.
“We actually. We didn’t. Not yet. I mean.” Nate looks at me.
“Already. Not today. At least, if we’re going by when the sun’s up,” I say, really adding a lot to this conversation. Tyler just looks stupefied.
“Wait, what the hell are you doing here?” Nate asks his friend. “Aren’t you supposed to be checking up on the chuppah?” He frowns. “Come to think of it, I should be there too. Fuck.” He closes his eyes.
“Naw, man. Mike and Stacy are cool. Their parents are, like, super into the whole organizing thing, so we’ve just got to show up. No worries!” Tyler finger guns at Nate and laughs.
“Then is there a reason it’s two in the afternoon and you’re walking around without a shirt on? Or pants?” Nate asks. We both stare down at Tyler’s cute little boxers. They have sailboats on them.
He laughs, sounding a little embarrassed. “I, ah, met up with one of the romance convention ladies. Tigers. All of them.” He even rawrs at me.
Sometimes I don’t know what kind of alien world Tyler came from, but it must be fitfully amusing there.
“Nice. Who? Anyone I know?” I tease.
To my surprise, Tyler blushes. Actually blushes.
“Maybe. I mean. Sure?” He sighs. “One of your friends.”