Three and a Half Weeks(166)

Introductions are made as I size them up. The woman is attractive but all business: her dark blond hair is pulled back in a severe knot and she wears a no-nonsense suit and black pumps. The man, Mykonos, is quite handsome—Greek, perhaps? Just call me psychic. He’s tall and dark but thin to the point of famine-chic, and thoroughly androgynous. By his demeanor and gestures, I’m certain he’s gay—and that probably means he’s really good at wedding planning, though I know I shouldn’t generalize.

Ian and I stand to greet them. “Lissette, this is Ariel, my fiancée. Mykonos, I presume?” he asks the young man who nods effusively, making goo-goo eyes at Ian and confirming my suspicion. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Ian Blackmon and this is my fiancée, Ella Strong.” We all shake hands and sit down. Lissette sits to Ian’s immediate right, pulling her chair close to his, so we can all look at pictures. Mykonos sits to her right, across from me. Opening a black leather portfolio, she begins showing us photos of her previous weddings.

I’m craning my neck to see the various themes of the receptions and exclaim about the Roman one, complete with ruins. It’s so beautiful, I have to give her credit for a fantastic job. Ian sees the delight on my face and his hand reaches over to squeeze my thigh. I grin at him, thinking our wedding is going to be absolutely perfect. That’s when his hand starts traveling… from my lower thigh to my upper thigh to my naked vajayjay. I swallow my gasp of horror just in time and it ends up sounding like a strange hiccup. My hand flies to my mouth, face scarlet, as I mutter, “Excuse me,” to the planners. I’m going to kill him tonight so wedding plans are truly redundant at this point.

But my reaction does not deter him: he keeps his hand in place and continues to explore, his finger now inside me and he’s doing other things with the palm of his hand. Closing my eyes in utter shame, I inhale deeply, and finally work up the nerve to look up: Mykonos is staring directly into my face with an expression that could only be described as smug. Oh yeah? What kind of a name is Mykonos anyway? Isn’t it a Greek island, for God’s sake?

Surreptitiously, I slide my left hand over Ian’s at the exact same time as I lean over to point at something in her book with my right, commenting on the flowers in the photo as I simultaneously dig my nails into Ian’s hand in an attempt to arrest his motion. Without any visible reaction whatsoever to what has to amount to vicious pain, he continues his ministrations as he asks Lissette a question. I have to give credit where credit is due: the motherfucker is a professional.

I snap my legs as tightly together as humanly possible but still he continues without interruption and now, though I despise admitting it, I am swamping. I’m so turned on that I must accept the reality that I am a wanton exhibitionist and yet somehow pick up and go on with my life. I stop resisting and just relax into it but as I feel an orgasm approaching, I break out in a cold sweat even though my body is so hot it feels feverish.

That’s when Mykonos “accidentally” drops his napkin, having conveniently gotten frosting on his upper lip, residue from his hefty slice of German Chocolate cake. So obvious a ploy, it’s pathetic. He bends down to retrieve the napkin and I know Ian will stop now.

But he doesn’t stop! At all. In fact, he picks up the pace. Now I know Mykonos must know but Lissette is still clueless. I clear my throat loudly.

“Excuse me.” All three turn to look at me. “Please excuse me; I’m just stepping away to the restroom.” And as gracefully as I can manage under the untenable circumstances he’s put me in, I rise and walk away. I can’t wait till I get Ian alone.



The cab pulls up in front of the condo building just before three o’clock. After Ian pays the fare, he opens the door, gets out and then assists me. His arm around me, we walk into the lobby.

Nuzzling his face into my hair, he says, “Ella, it’s such a beautiful afternoon. What say you to an evening picnic on the catamaran? We can have our discussion as we watch the sun set.”

“Oh, Ian, that sounds so nice, so romantic.” I give him a quick kiss and caress his cheek, my love for him almost overwhelming me.

Yes, I’ve forgiven him for his earlier behavior but only because he finished what he started. When I returned from the restroom, I discovered that he’d thanked Lissette and Mykonos for their time and advised them that we would need to think about exactly what we’d like and talk to our parents to determine the number of guests to be invited. As soon as we had that information, we’d contact them for a follow-up. I got back to the table just in time to thank them myself and offer my goodbyes. As they exited, Ian took my hand and led me to the rear of the restaurant.