Bridesmaid Duties

 

Erica was Simon’s best friend, and had been forever, so when Simon got married, she supposed it made sense that he wanted her to be his best man.

She argued all the same, and said she didn’t want to. She said he was a weirdo, and he should just put her in Elizabeth’s bridal party like a normal person would. He argued back. He said he didn’t really have any male friends, and Erica knew that Elizabeth, his fiancée, didn’t have any brothers, so doing it this way just made sense.

In the end Erica stopped arguing. It seemed a bit ungracious, when it was his wedding.

She got to go to the stag’s night. That was fun. Or not. It was Simon and her and a few guys from his work, and Erica sat at the bar and talked to an off-duty stripper and didn’t look anywhere she didn’t want to look, because she wasn’t going to make herself part of the show to a bunch of strangers. She talked to the stripper, and ignored Simon’s pissed friends, and secretly resented that the bridal party was getting pedicures and massages right now. Or not exactly right now, at two in the morning, but they would be getting them instead. Not that she knew any of the bridal party, she supposed, but then again, she didn’t know anyone here either, so not knowing people didn’t really make much of a difference. After the strippers, she got Simon home, and made sure he didn’t get tied to anything shaven-headed and naked. He didn’t, so she supposed that was probably a win. And she was also fairly sure he’d doubled the number of tits he’d touched in his life in one night, including hers, by mistake, while she was getting him through his front door. That was probably a win, as well.

The strippers seemed to be about the end of her best man duties. Not losing him during the stag night, and making sure he turned up at the actual wedding, that was all.

The wedding venue was an old county house, some kind of pioneer settler place a couple of hours out of the city with grounds and trees, which had been turned into a corporate and wedding venue. It was nice. It was fancier than Simon deserved, Erica thought, and decided she quite liked the place.

She had time to look around, at the rehearsal, because the bridal party seemed to be taking their time. In the end Simon made her go and see what was happening. Apparently there were other best man jobs, mostly to do with how Simon couldn’t see the dress before the wedding day. She went and knocked on the door where the bridal party was getting ready.

One of the bridesmaids, Cara, opened it. She opened it a crack, and looked out.

“Best man,” Cara said, blocking the door, peering out. “Hi. Is it just you?”

Erica nodded.

“Good,” Cara said.

“Is it Erica?” someone said from inside the room. Erica thought it was Elizabeth’s voice.

“Yep,” Cara said, and everyone inside seemed to relax. They started talking again. Cara stayed in the doorway.

“Nice suit,” she said to Erica.

Erica made a face and said, “Don’t.”

Simon had made her wear a suit, even though she hadn’t wanted to. They both had to match, Simon had insisted, which was about when Erica started to think there was a lot of being bossed around involved in best manning. She wasn’t completely happy about the suit, although the tie and pocket hanky were quite fancy. Cara had a sleek fitted dress in red, which Erica envied. She wanted a dress too.

“Nice shoes,” Cara said, glancing down.

Erica grinned. She was wearing black strappy four-inch heels. Simon had won about everything else, including her hair being up in a bun, and her having the same carnation in it as he had in his collar. He’d won about everything except the shoes, and Erica had just demanded she get her way on those. She needed the height, she’d said, if she was supposed to match him. Then she’d told him that the bride paid for shoes and dresses, and so he was too. That had pretty much ended that conversation.

Erica grinned, and looked down at Cara’s shoes. They matched her dress.

“Same,” Erica said. “Very much so.”

They both stood there looking at each other’s feet. After a moment, after the shoe staring seemed to have gone on slightly too long, Erica decided she’d better say something or it was going to get a little weird. “We were wondering what the hold up was?” she said.

“Elizabeth.”

“Of course, but nothing, um, bad?”

Cara shook her head. “She put everything on. To check it all. Now she has to take it all off again.”

“Oh yeah,” Erica said, realizing. “Of course.” Apparently everyone had to dress up for the rehearsal, and everyone except the bride had to wear their fancies. To make sure everything still fit, Erica supposed, and that no-one clashed with each other. Or something. For just a moment she was glad she was wearing a suit, after all, and had spent the last twenty minutes doing nothing much more complicated than standing around outside, under a tree, with Simon.

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about though,” Cara said.

“Yeah, the dance.”

Elizabeth had agreed to Erica as a best man, but said Erica still had to dance. Elizabeth wanted a perfect wedding, which meant, as far as Erica could tell, that everything had to be exactly as it would have been a hundred years ago. That meant first dances, and second dances, and speeches, and toasts. Erica had to make speeches, and she had to dance with the bridesmaids, and she wasn’t sure she could do either very well. She couldn’t do old-timey dancing, and she definitely couldn’t do it being the one who was leading. They’d all been practicing now and then, but it hadn’t been going well. She was still a little worried.

“Not that,” Cara said. “That we’ll deal with, or not.”

“Not?” Erica said, hopefully.

Cara grinned. “If everyone’s pissed enough, sure. It’s not that, though. It’s something else. Another formality.”

“Okay,” Erica said, and waited for Cara to explain.

Cara glanced back into the dressing room, then stepped outside, into the hallway, and pulled the door closed. “Come on,” she said, and went off down the hallway.

Erica followed, assuming it was some extra piece of fuck-awful tradition like cutting cakes or speeches or whatever. Cara went into one of the other dressing rooms, and Erica followed her.

Cara closed the door. Then locked it.

“Um,” Erica said, watching.

“It’s like this,” Cara said. “There’s another tradition we need to sort out.”

“Is there?”

“Yep.”

“Who’s we?”

“Well, you and me.”

“Okay,” Erica said, looking at the door. “Um, what?”

“The best man’s supposed to fuck one of the bridesmaids.”

“Um,” Erica said. “What?”

“It’s a tradition.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard. But, um, what?”

Cara grinned.

“Are you serious?” Erica said.

“Yep, pretty much.”

“And Elizabeth knows about this, does she?” Erica said. “She sent you to talk this over?”

“Of course not,” Cara said. “This is pretty much for me.”

“But you want to…”

“I hoped you might pick me. If you wanted anyone.”

“And if I don’t want anyone?”

Cara shrugged. “There’s no harm asking.”

“Um,” Erica said, still not quite sure if Cara was teasing her, somehow. “I never really have before…”

“Fucked a bridesmaid?”

“Um, no,” Erica said, and flushed. “Not just a bridesmaid. Any kind of maid, really…”

“Oh.” Cara actually seemed surprised. “Seriously?”

Erica shrugged, feeling a little judged. “Not everyone does, you know.”

“God, sorry, I just mean… well, you really work in the suit. I just assumed…”

“Simon’s idea. He made me.”

“Oh, I see.”

They both went quiet. Neither said anything for a moment. Just when it was starting to feel awkward, Cara said, “So look, I’m sorry, I just thought I’d ask, that was all. I mean, I’m sorry if…”

Erica shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Well, no, because you’re obviously uncomfortable. But honestly, it was mostly just a joke. Like, I assumed, because of the suit…”

“Yeah.” Erica stood there, feeling like she should say something too. “It’s just I haven’t before and you took me by surprise. So I’m sorry too, if I got a bit weird.”

Cara shrugged. “Never mind.”

Erica grinned, and thought of shoes. “Same,” she said.

“Yeah,” Cara said, and smiled back. “Well, sorry. It just seemed like a good line, sort of too funny not to say, but I guess it wasn’t.”

Erica felt bad for her. “It was a good line.”

“But kind of a shame it was wasted.”

Erica hesitated, and told herself to stop, to shut up, not to let this turn into some weird wedding flirtation. She told herself that, then went ahead anyway. “Not necessarily wasted,” she said carefully.

Cara seemed surprised. “You said you weren’t interested.”

“I said I hadn’t before.”

Cara started to grin.

“I didn’t say yes either,” Erica added quickly. “I just said maybe not wasted…”

“I know. I heard. I’m glad.” Cara had moved, somehow, and was suddenly closer, suddenly looking at Erica, quite intently.

“Um…” Erica said.

“Did I say I liked those shoes?” Cara said.

“You did. And I said same.”

“I like the hair too.”

“Thank you. And same.”

“I like the lips,” Cara said, smiling. “And I like the neck…”

Erica nodded, wondering what she was supposed to do now. Nothing, as it turned out. Cara took her hand, and stroked her wrist, and Erica shivered, despite herself.

“In fact,” Cara said. “I really like all of you.”

“Thank you.”

“I really do.”

“I got that.” Erica whispered, uncertainly.

“Especially your mouth,” Cara said.

“Yep,” Erica said. “Okay. I’m really not sure what to say.”

“Don’t say anything,” Cara said softly, and kissed her.

Erica jumped, surprised Cara was so close. She jumped, then said, “Oh fuck,” and then kissed Cara back. It was a good kiss. It was soft, and warm, and Cara tasted a little of wine. Erica opened her mouth, and Cara did too, and Erica put her hand on Cara’s hip, to steady herself, quite surprised at herself for doing this.

Erica kissed for a moment, then suddenly thought about where they were. “Is the door locked?” she said.

“Yes.”

“Could you check?”

Cara stopped kissing, and went to the door, and rattled the handle, solemnly. The door didn’t open. The handle didn’t turn. It seemed to be locked, Erica had to agree.

Cara came back to Erica, and stood in front of her.

“Okay,” Erica said. “Yes. Well, good.”

Cara just stood there. She seemed to be waiting. Erica suddenly felt nervous, for no sensible reason.

“Kissing’s quite nice, really, isn’t it?” Erica said.

Cara looked at her for a moment, and then slowly smiled. “Well, I think so, yes.”

“It’s kind of the same as you’d expect really,” Erica said. “With you I mean. Just, um, better…”

Cara kept looking at her.

“Not better maybe,” Erica said. “Perhaps not better, but definitely different. New, and, well…” she thought, then stopped, suddenly lost for words.

“Better?” Cara said.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Maybe I should kiss you again,” Cara said, as if she’d only just thought of it.

Erica looked at her. “Yeah, maybe you should.”

“Would you like me to?”

“I think I would.”

Cara did. She kissed slowly, and Erica put her hand on Cara’s arm, and kissed back, carefully.

“That really is nice,” Erica said, after a moment.

“You’re talking a lot,” Cara said.

“I know.”

“Way too much.”

“Yep. I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be.”

“Well, this is new.”

“Still, don’t be. There’s a way we’re meant to do this, I think.”

Erica felt terribly relieved. “Oh thank fuck,” she said. “Because I have no idea. I mean, I can guess, and I thought about it once, but I really have no idea how the leg thing would work…”

“No,” Cara said, grinning. “I meant bridesmaid fucking the best man sex. I have an idea how that’s meant to work.”

“Oh,” Erica said, and felt a little silly.

“But the other, I mean, I can show you if you’d like…?”

Erica looked at her. “Um, maybe. Perhaps. Later on. Tell me about the other bit first?”

“Bridesmaids and best men?”

“Yes, that.”

“Bridesmaid and best man sex?”

Erica almost glared. “Yes.”

“Well, I think it’s meant to be all sordid and dirty, that’s all. Like blowies in the gazebo outside, or quickies in the dressing room while everyone’s distracted.”

“There’s no gazebo outside, I don’t think,” Erica said.

“No. So, quickies in the dressing room while everyone’s distracted.”

“Yeah,” Erica said. She looked around, quite deliberately. “Um, this is a dressing room, I think.”

“I noticed that too.”

“And everyone’s distracted, aren’t they?”

“For a few minutes, yeah.”

“Oh,” Erica said. “Well. Um, what did you have in mind?”

“Take those trousers off.”

Erica blinked. That was quite sudden. “Um, what?”

“I’m a bridesmaid. I’m meant to give the best man a blowie during the wedding.”

“Stop calling it that,” Erica said.

“Blowie?”

“Yeah. Don’t. It’s weird.”

“I thought that’s what the were called.”

“Um. Not by me.”

“Fine. But take off the pants.”

Erica hesitated, looking at Cara, and then slowly undid her trousers. She was wearing one of her suits for work, so she was used to the buttons, and didn’t need to look at what she was doing. She opened the fly, and slid the trousers off her hips, and then stood there for a moment, uncertain.

“Take them off,” Cara said.

“I don’t know. What if someone comes in?”

“The door’s locked.”

“The staff might have a key.”

Cara glanced around. There wasn’t much in the room. A dresser with a mirror, a chair in front of it, and another armchair across the room. Cara put the dressing table chair against the door, and said, “That’ll make some noise if someone opens it.”

Erica nodded, unsure.

“Just take them off,” Cara said. “Please? So I can see your legs.”

Erica sighed, and then did. The trousers were loose enough that she could take them off without also taking off her shoes. She had lacy boyshorts on underneath. Because best man, so boyshorts under a suit. It was a joke, one for herself, not one she expected anyone else to get.

Cara looked, and grinned, and seemed to understand. “Shorts,” she said. “Clever.”

Erica grinned back, and liked Cara a lot more. She draped her trousers over the armchair.

Cara knelt down, in front of Erica, and carefully kissed her tummy. She put her hands on Erica’s hips, and slid the shorts down, folded them, and put them on the armchair. She lifted Erica’s shirt up and out of the way, then shifted one of Erica’s feet, spreading Erica’s legs further apart.

Erica watched, a little nervous. She could feel Cara’s breath on her pussy. She could feel Cara’s breath, and feel herself wet, and suddenly knew she was going to do this.

She should feel more worried, she thought. She should be more scared by something new. She wasn’t, to her surprise. She simply didn’t care. She was about to get head, and that was all that mattered.

Cara leaned forward, and quite unhurriedly, kissed Erica’s mound. She glanced up, and grinned, and then slowly licked, and suddenly Erica just wanted to feel her.

It was good. Cara’s mouth felt good. Cara lapped, and licked, and kissed now and then, and sucked on Erica’s lips in a way Erica adored but had never quite managed to explain properly to anyone before. Cara just did it without being asked, and Erica thought that was wonderful. Perhaps, she thought, Cara was better at this because she had a pussy and understood what to do. Or perhaps she was better just because she was. It could be that either, and Erica didn’t care. It didn’t matter, because Cara’s mouth felt good. Cara sucked, and licked, and Erica stroked her hair. She looked down at Cara’s hair, and the smooth skin of Cara’s shoulders, and thought it was odd to be looking at a woman, while feeling what she was. Odd, and wonderfully good as well.

After a little while, Erica felt herself getting close, and said, softly, “Um…”

Cara understood. “Go on,” she said, so Erica did. A hot gaspy breathless orgasm that made her knees shaky, so much that she almost fell over. The chair was useful. It was enough to hold her up. She leaned on it, and came against Cara’s mouth.

When Erica was done, Cara stood up, and leaned close, smiling, as if to kiss Erica. She began to kiss, as if by habit, then stopped and seemed to wonder whether she should.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Erica said, and kissed Cara firmly. It wasn’t like she hadn’t kissed her own wetness off someone’s mouth before. “What about you?” she said after a moment.

“There doesn’t have to be a me. Bridesmaid, remember? It’s my wedding job to blow the best man.”

“There can still be a you,” Erica said.

“You don’t have to,” Cara said, quite seriously. “Not if you aren’t sure.”

“I’m sure,” Erica said, and held up her hand. “You can do something with this, right?”

Cara smiled, and nodded. She kissed Erica, then leaned backwards, onto the armchair, and reached up under her dress to pull her underwear off. She put them on the dresser, and said, “Don’t want clammy undies all afternoon.”

Erica nodded, a little embarrassed she hadn’t thought of that herself. She could feel herself slightly damp and cool already. She held out her hand. “Show me,” she said.

Cara kissed Erica’s hand, then sucked on Erica’s fingers, making them wet, then said, “Just do like you do to you.”

Erica nodded, nervous now.

Cara pulled Erica’s hand down between her own legs, and kissed Erica again. Erica kissed back, sliding her hand up Cara’s leg. It was a leg. It was smooth and warm. It felt different to her own leg, but not in ways she could easily work out. She stroked upwards, and ran into Cara’s dress. She got tangled. “Could you hold that, please?” she said.

Cara did, pulling the hem up almost to her hips. Erica kissed and stroked some more. She stroked Cara’s leg, making her gasp. Stroked, and then, before she could change her mind, she slid her fingers all the way up to Cara’s pussy.

Cara felt hot, and wet, and slippery, and smooth. She felt exactly like Erica, except wonderfully more. It was touching her here that made touching her sexy, Erica thought, because the situation was so different to touching herself. If Erica was touching herself, it was usually in the bathroom and so gross, or furtively masturbating and so embarrassing. Now, though, she was neither in a bathroom nor especially embarrassed, so touching Cara felt quite wonderful. She stroked. She felt the shape of Cara’s pussy. She took her hand away, and licked it slowly. Licked, and tasted a little of Cara. It tasted sexy. It tasted like sexy, and nothing much else, and a different kind of sexy to how Erica tasted to herself.

Erica licked her fingers, and Cara watched. Then Erica put her hand back between Cara’s legs, and rubbed gently. She rubbed, then after a moment said, “Um, hey,” and suddenly knelt down.

She knelt, and then looked up at Cara. Cara seemed surprised. She seemed to have stopped breathing. She was biting her lip, as if she’d started to say something and then made herself stop. Erica grinned, and pushed at Cara’s foot, like Cara had done to her earlier, making room for herself. Then she leaned in towards Cara’s pussy.

Erica had never seen someone else’s quite so close and openly-displayed before. She’d seen, because you sometimes did, but only awkwardly, a glimpse as someone changed. Not like this. Not Cara all proud and smug and happily showing her. It was there, all spread and dainty. It was a pretty thing to look at, Erica suddenly thought. She’d never quite realized that before.

The whole wedding was turning in her chance to see naked lady-parts all over.

She leaned forward, and licked, and Cara softly sighed.

Erica licked. She had no idea what she was doing, but it seemed to work well enough. Cara sighed, and stroked Erica’s hair, and fairly soon, bent forward and wrapped herself around Erica, holding onto Erica’s shoulders. She pressed herself onto Erica, moving her hips slightly, and after a moment, Erica slipped her fingers inside Cara.

Cara came. Quite suddenly, and quite obviously, groaning, stroking Erica’s face with one hand and pressing the other against her own mouth, apparently trying stop herself making as much noise. She came, then pulled Erica up, and kissed her, and whispered, “Oh my fucking god.”

Erica felt proud of herself.

They kissed, and then Cara began fumbling at Erica’s trousers again, apparently wanting to do more.

“We’d better get back,” Erica said. “Someone’ll notice.”

“I know, but…”

“I want to…” Erica said.

“Good.”

“I want to,” Erica said, “But quickies, remember?”

Almost reluctantly, Cara nodded.

“Lots of quickies,” Erica said, feeling brave. “Quickies all through the wedding day.”

“Oh,” Cara said, and started to smile again. “Um, yeah, of course, if you’d like.”

“I do.”

Cara nodded, and kissed her. It turned into a longer kiss.

“You should go,” Erica said, after a moment.

“What?” Cara said. “Why?”

“We should leave separately,” Erica said, “Shouldn’t we? Isn’t that how you do sneaky with stuff like this.”

“Oh yeah,” Cara said. “Well, you go first.”

Erica glanced at the mirror. “I need to fix my lips.”

“Well, so do I.”

Erica took a lip gloss out her pocket, and showed it to Cara. “But pockets,” she said, smugly. “Mine’s right here, and yours is next door, and you have a room of people to help you.”

“Fine,” Cara said, smiling. She kissed Erica again, and moved the chair, and opened the door, and was gone.

Erica did her lips. She looked at herself carefully, then took liquid foundation out another pocket in her jacket and reapplied it to her chin. While she was bothering, she did her eyes too, just because, since she had shadow and liner in another pocket. She decided that was enough, although she was starting to see advantages to suits. She listened at the door, making sure no-one was in the hall, then slipped out, and went back downstairs to Simon.

She was looking forward to the wedding, she decided. She was looking forward to seeing Cara at the wedding, and what might happen with her there.