Weddings are strange events as they bring together groups of people who have little or nothing in common with each other to celebrate the joining together of a couple that even some of the guests may barely know.

I have been to the weddings of cousins who I last met before puberty, where it has been so long since we last met that we didn't recognise each other.

Similarly there are the work colleagues; these can be just as bad. A collection of people who only have work as a link, that's a pretty tenuous connection and once you add partners then the mix is even more unfamiliar.

It does have one distinct advantage. At a family wedding where cousins of either sex are not always obvious then you could end up snogging or worse (better?), a blood relative. I'm not of hillbilly stock so that has never appealed to me. The works wedding brings together strangers who can part of strangers so if you do hit on somebody then... well no cousins and hopefully no repercussions.

Denise was only part time at the library, a mousy little girl who rarely mixed, so it was something of a surprise when I received an invitation to her wedding.

I have to honest and say that my first inclination was to politely refuse, and then I saw that the venue was at the Heights, only the plushest hotel in the city. I had been looking for an excuse to spend an evening there and mousy Denise had provided me with the opportunity.

So I accepted but only after booking a double room for the night. I had a great plan of a re-run of our wedding night (minus Jeff's intervention). I even checked out a rather sexy nightdress together with a new evening outfit including a gorgeous set of undies. Men never quite understand that undies are more than just sexy; they can make you feel so feminine.

The one thing that I hadn't checked (showing how single minded I can be) was Charlie. Now most husbands spend their weekends with their wives and families but Charlie had one of those jobs that occasionally kept him away.

Charlie works for an IT company and despite his easy going nature he is apparently a killer project manager and so is in real demand. In fact I know that he's good at his job, we met when he was installing a new computer system in the city libraries but that's another story.

So of course the weekend of Denise's wedding Charlie just had to be going 'live'. I sat and listened to his explanation, which was an honest and good one, and none to quietly cursed him for how he'd ruined my plans.

Of course if I'd been honest it was my fault, but I have never accepted the blame if I can find a scapegoat. Charlie has become my favourite scapegoat, a fact made worse by the crazy way that he happily accepts the blame and thus negates my anger.

I scowled my way through a team meeting and then face Chrissie's cross examination. Chrissie is my confidante and because she has that sort of mind, believes that everything has a sexual cause.

I told her my problems of a decent cup of coffee which I made her buy as an exchange for the info. She looked mildly disappointed which was her own fault.

"No chance of Charlie getting the weekend off?"

"He'll get a 10k bonus if everything goes according to plan." I confided. "I wouldn't even think of asking him, that sort of monies to much to ignore."

"Cancel?" She suggested.

"I don't want to." I whinged.

"Alright, come with me and Tom and snuggle up to a vibrator." She had to bring sex into it. "You do have a vibrator don't you?" She probed. "I could lend you one?"

"After where you have put it... fuck off." I laughed.

So I went to the wedding with Chrissie and her husband, Tom's cool and on a few occasions we have made a foursome (not that type), Tom and Charlie get on, I like that as left to his own devises he'd never leave the house.

We drank, danced a little, drank some more. I wasn't the only single woman there, but I didn't appreciate the girlie dance circles. I'd given up on those at university.

A couple of guys tried to hit on me, but they weren't anything and I wasn't stupid enough to start anything in the middle of the reception, besides, neither of them hit my button and if you don't hit that then you don't hit anything else. I am selective.

Eventually Chrissie and Tom cleared off, by the look on her face I guessed that Tom was in for an active night, lucky cow. I downed another drink and was about to wander off to a big and lonely bed.

"Buy you another?" The voice was cool and calm and very masculine.

I looked up and wasn't disappointed. The voice belonged to six foot of Latino male, mid twenties, slim, dark eyes and air and very very fuckable, somewhere between my legs a bell rang.

"Bacardi breezer." I offered my empty glass; if he could have understood symbolism he'd have been perfect.

He returned with the drink and seated himself besides me. I wondered briefly if anyone had noticed how I was been hit on by a gorgeous hunk.

We exchanged first names, I was Paula and he was Carlos, very Latino, in passing I wondered which side of the wedding he was on, bride or grooms. Also I hadn't noticed him before; there hadn't been that many guests.

We traded trivia and he brought in another round of drinks, then the band started playing slow numbers, the type where you dance touching.

Carlos looked at me. "Can we dance?"

I did hesitate but only to glance around the room, there was hardly anyone left and nobody who I recognised.

"Why not." I said, switching on my brightest smile.

In my heels I was about five seven so we almost danced face to face. I can dance it was something my mother had insisted upon when my sisters and myself were kids. Carlos could cruise, he moved well but you'd have been challenged to recognise the actual dance. Still it didn't matter, we moved around the almost deserted floor without standing on each others feet or tripping up.

I was impressed that the dancing had been dancing and not a furtive attempt to grope me, that impression lasted until the final dance, when the band leader dimmed the lights so far that it was almost lights out.

Carlos tried to kiss me and on about the third attempt our mouths met. I have probably said that I like kissing and Carlos could kiss. Somehow the hand that had rested in the small of my back found its way to brush against my boobs and then my bum in the space of the kiss.

"You are beautiful." He murmured into my ear.

It was nice of him to say so, but I know that I'm not beautiful, just pretty, and I wasn't putting up much of a fight, yet. It was reaching the point that either we went somewhere or just parted as friends.

The dance stopped and the lights, after a ten second pause, sprang back into life. It was almost dazzling and we made our way back to our table with spots in front of our eyes.

There was that awkward moment, the one where each waits for the other to say something, sometimes this kills the moment and to avoid this, I speak. I normally expect the man to take some of the initiative but Carlos seems a bit tongue tied.

"I have a room booked." It's about as obvious as you can get and if Carlos can't understand the implication then I'll be better off cuddling the spare pillow.

His face widens and he displays a set of perfect set of teeth. "There is no one waiting for you?" He glances towards my wedding ring.

"Tonight I'm single."

I'm not going to say that I wasn't excited, I was in control and the squishy feeling I had between my legs didn't drive me to mouth rape him in the lift.

We were both adults and knew what was going to happen so there was no need to act like excited kids. We did kiss in the lift but we kept our hands away from the obvious places. I do have a fantasy about fucking in a lift, but in one of those glass ones that travel up and down the outside of the building.

Still as we reached my floor I couldn't resist having a little groin level squeeze. He wasn't John Holmes (remember him???) but neither was he the proverbial midget, there was more than enough to keep me amused, there was just the simple question, did he know how to use it.

We made it to the suite in silence. After all we knew nothing about each other so short of discussing fuck techniques there were nothing to say.

I was wearing a clinging black dress that almost reached my knee's, showed off my butt and made the most of my boobs. As it was so clingy I opted for a soft bra and thong as I felt that a VPL wasn't done at a wedding.

I flicked off my shoes, instantly shortening my height by the better part of three inches, and made for the refrigerated bar. I'd bought a decent bottle of wine with me and it would be chilled top perfection. I was also making a statement, this wasn't a rip my knickers off quickie.