Chapter 8

You could feel the hush falling over the congregation seated beneath the stained glass windows. The moment that everyone had waited for finally arrived.

"Do you, Amanda Elaine Carson, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband - to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, to honor and obey, until death do you part?"

"I do," she replied, giving the vow, the faintest note of a tremor in her voice.

Amanda and Paul had written their own vows, and had decided to go with the feeling and most of the actual wording of the classic wedding vows. In particular, she had chosen to retain the "honor and obey" portion in her vow. It might be old fashioned, and it certainly wasn't politically correct, but as she told Mom when they discussed it, if you love someone, and believe that they love you in return, then you trust that person.

The pastor now turned to the male half of the wedding couple.

"Do you, Paul David Cartwright, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife - to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, to honor and keep, until death do you part?"

"I do," he replied, speaking directly to Amanda, not to the pastor who had asked the question.

The pastor didn't seem to mind. He continued on, saying "Then by the power vested in me, before God and man, I do hereby declare you to be husband and wife." He then concluded, "You may kiss the bride."

Paul lifted the veil from the face of his now-wife, folding it back over her head and, leaning into her, he kissed her. A renewed flurry of flashes exploded all around me, capturing the moment on film for posterity.

It was quite a chaste kiss on the part of both of them. They were, after at, standing in front of a pastor inside of a church. Still, the signs of the passion they felt for each other were there if you knew what to look for. His mouth was just a bit more open upon hers than was actually appropriate. She leaned into him a little too much, her breasts pressing into his chest just a tad too firmly. The kiss lasted several seconds longer than Miss Manners might have approved of before the happy couple broke. The signs had been subtle enough that no one had been disturbed by them, not even the pastor. But the signs had been noted with approval by the more observant of the congregation.

Now that the kiss was complete, the organist began playing the recessional music. Everyone rose, and then Paul and Amanda, arm in arm, exited down the aisle, followed by the rest of the wedding party.

The immediate members of the bride's and groom's families exited next. As I was part of this group, I soon found myself outside the church in the receiving line, waiting to be greeted by the bride and groom. In short order I was offering Paul my sincere congratulations, and receiving a "thank you" and a firm handshake in return. From the bride I received a very sisterly kiss - not at all like the frantic ones we had shared previously as lovers. It was so innocent I'm sure Miss Manners would have approved wholeheartedly. I moved on, letting the next person in line offer their greetings.

I ended up watching from the sidelines as the rest of the line wound its way past the happy couple. I certainly didn't envy my sister and her husband throughout this ordeal, but they carried on stoically until the line was gone. This was the cue for the limousine to arrive and whisk them away to the reception hall. The limo was an especially nice one - not the usual Lincoln or Caddy. Instead, Amanda and Paul got to travel in a white Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud with gold trim. I was impressed, even though I knew it hadn't cost my dad that much more than a more conventional limo. Still, there is just something classy about a Rolls.

Two additional limos - one for the bride's party, and one for the groom's - then gathered up the rest of the wedding party. A forth limo, occupied by the parents of the newly wedded couple, completed the ensemble. That left the other fifty-plus of the invited guests who like myself didn't rate a limo to gather up their cars and head over to Sander's Hall, a large multi-use facility that belonged to the local Elks Lodge and which had one major advantage over the admittedly more convenient hall adjacent to the church - it was not adverse to allowing drinking on the premises and even had it's own bar.

By the time I managed to reach the hall, park my shitbox Ford Escort, and lock up, the wedding party was already inside, as was evidenced by the row of empty limos in the reserved parking area. I presented my engraved invitation and was allowed past the staff and into the banquet hall.

Inside, my eyes were greeted with rows on either side of the hall of mostly still-empty tables covered with spotless white tablecloths. The wedding party and parents of the bride and groom were seated at the head table. The large dance floor in front of the head table was empty, even though the excellent six-piece band was already playing. Behind the head table a pair of tables was stationed to one side, a mountain of gifts covering them and the floor immediately in front of them. On the other side, a table with casters held the wedding cake - a multi-tier creation that must have stool almost three feet high. A sterling silver cutter and cake server rested on the table in front of the cake. The cake was presently located discretely out of the way. Its moment would arrive later.

I found my seat with no trouble. As the closest relation to the bride that didn't rate a seat at the head table, I was seated on the bride's side at the end of the first table down, almost directly opposite my parents' location at the head table and next to my Aunt Mary and Uncle George's seats.

All in all, the reception was nowhere near as awful as such things usually tend to be. The caterer was a friend of my mother and had taken personal charge of the arraignments, ensuring that everything would go smoothly. The salad wasn't wilted and the soup was good. I passed on the poultry entree, going instead with the other choice - some kind of beef in wine sauce. It was pretty good, if a bit too French for my taste. I managed to eat my fill, as did the rest of the guests.

Finally, as if a signal had been given, members of the staff cleared the plates from the table, while others, carrying trays of stemware filled with bubbling liquid, stationed the libations for the traditional toast at each diner's location. The liquid in my glass looked identical to that in the glass of my Aunt Mary seated beside me. It wasn't. As I had discovered earlier when wine had been distributed with the meal, the place cards at each setting were coded by border color. Not wishing to risk their liquor license, the staff had strictly enforced the prohibition against alcohol in the case of minors like myself. Thus, I had to make do with what turned out to be Sprite when the best man got up and toasted the bride and groom. Bummer. I couldn't even drink.

Things then continued to drag on at a snail's pace. Amanda cut the cake. Everyone got a piece and felt obliged to eat it. The wedding gifts were opened, Amanda holding each one up as the giver's name was announced, then opening it and dutifully displaying it for all to see.

The band renewed their playing. The lights dimmed and Paul and my sister had the first dance alone, a spotlight following their movements as they glided across the floor. It was a nice touch. Amanda was beaming as she clung to her new husband.

The song ended. The spotlight faded. The bride and groom separated, Amanda going over to Dad and leading him onto the dance floor with her. Paul did the same with his mother, a dignified looking woman with occasional strands of gray accenting her almost black hair. The music started and the couples, parent and child, danced. The process was repeated, this time with Amanda dancing with Paul's father while Paul danced with Mom.

Lastly, the best man danced with the bride, while the groom danced with the maid-of-honor and both sets of parents joined them, four sets of couples moving across the otherwise empty floor. The whole thing had been so cliché, but I still had to smile. It had also been lovely to watch, though I doubt if I would have ever admitted to anyone that I had been moved by anything so corny.

The four couples retired from the dance floor, which started to fill with other couples now that the show was over. I got up from my seat and headed for the head table. I would have to dance with Amanda - it was expected. But my sister was not who I was headed for. She had just gotten back to her seat and deserved a break. Instead, I approached the girl next to her, Cindy Hartwell, Amanda's maid-of-honor, and asked her to dance.

Despite the fact that she had also just returned to her seat, she graciously accepted my invitation. The music having already restarted, we joined the other couples on the dance floor.

We had been favored with a slow number. Cindy proved to be a very good dancer, blessed with a natural feel for the rhythm and following my lead easily, which was something that my sister, who had taught me how to dance, had never managed to master.

We discussed the events of the day with each other as we danced. Being not only Amanda's maid-of-honor, but also her best friend, Cindy was a familiar face in the Carson household. I had gotten to know her somewhat in the months since she and my sister had started spending time together. She was a very nice person, and smart as a whip, with a dry sense of humor. Moreover, now that Amanda and her friends had made her over to accent her physical assets, she was also something of a looker. I hadn't paid that much attention to her when Amanda and I were still boffing each other every chance we got, but now that my sister and I had ended that aspect or our relationship and I had been left practically celibate over the last six months, Cindy (although three years older than me) had suddenly become a lot more intriguing.

It felt good holding her close as we swayed to the music, feeling her small firm breasts press against my chest. Although there was no overt sexuality on her part, I was surprised to find myself responding to her - to the subtle scent of floral soap and shampoo rising from her hair - to the heady bouquet of the perfume that she wore - to the softness and warmth of her body where it made contact with mine. I could feel myself starting to get hard, despite my wishing not to. I willed my penis to behave itself. This wasn't the way I wanted my sister's best girlfriend to think of me.

It didn't work. I had been without serious girlfriends for the entire time my sister and I had been engaged in our affair, and I had yet to find anyone now that we weren't doing it anymore. It had been too long since I had had any release other than from my own five best friends. My erection continued to grow. Cindy HAD to be able to feel it - she just HAD to.

If she did, she did nothing to acknowledge my response to her presence. In fact, she continued to press against me a bit more than I felt was strictly proper. It was almost like she wanted to tease me - to prove to both of us she was truly a woman and capable of turning me on.

The dance ended, leaving me feeling a bit dazed and confused. Cindy still acted like nothing had happened between us as I accompanied her back to her seat next to my sister. She was the same soft-spoken, quiet, slightly shy girl I was familiar with. But my sister gave both of us a questioning look as I held out Cindy's chair while she seated herself. And I don't suppose that the stupid grin I had on my face helped matters any.

I returned to my seat. Being underage, I didn't even have the option of having a few stiff drinks. Instead, I spent the next half hour trying to assess what had happened out there on the dance floor. It didn't help matters any that I would find myself looking at Cindy and speculating about what the body under her dress might look like naked. It was not an unpleasant thought.

I still had to dance with my sister. As I said, it was expected. Of course, Amanda had spent most of her time either talking to Paul or dancing with the various male guests, but my sister and her maid-of-honor had spent part the time since Cindy and I had danced talking to each other and laughing. I might have been mistaken, but I could have sworn that they had glanced my way several times while they talked.

I knew that things were not likely to get any easier and decided that I might as well get it over with. Circling the edge of the dancers, I found myself standing in front of Amanda. I asked her to dance with me.

"I don't know, Kenneth," my sister replied teasingly. "I might want to walk out of here under my own power come the end of the day."

I smiled at her witticism. "Don't worry, Sis. I'm not planning to cripple you on your wedding day."

"Are you sure?" she continued. "I've danced with you before. You're not exactly competition for Fred Astaire."

"You can ask Cindy there, if you want to. I managed to return her in a reasonably intact condition."

Cindy and my sister exchanged sly smiles before my sister continued, "Well, she does seem to have survived. I guess I'll be alright for one dance."

Getting up, she moved to me, sliding her arm into mine and letting me lead her to an open area of the floor. We began to dance.