'So I was to be the best man. Great.'
George Mason was still confused about all of that. Sure he had known the groom, Brett, for years; they sat next to each other in school. But since those days they hadn't been in contact. Darn, school was a lifetime ago.
George had run into Brett by chance two days ago; they had some drinks at a bar, and George ended up agreeing to act as Brett's best man at his wedding. Brett had explained that his original best man was sick or something. Two days later here he was, in the hotel. It seemed that Brett had hired the whole floor for it!
George sighed. He was always too agreeable when something like this happened. In school it had been the same thing. He did all the homework; Brett talked him into sharing, promising to repay him some other day. That day hadn't come yet, of course. George sighed again. Brett had racked up years' worth of favors that George knew he would never pay back, but of course he had agreed despite that. It was so many years ago and surely Brett had changed since then. "Nice that you are finally settling down, Brett," he had said. "Tell me about your fiancé."
The answer dispelled any illusion George had about change in Brett. "Her parents are rich; she's presentable, 24 years old and a virgin."
George had been sobered by this. "Still in that virgin thing, Brett?" he had sighed. It was Brett's obsession somehow, like a total-control-fetish. George had never truly understood. For a long moment their discussion had died. Just to bridge the silence, George had asked if there was a religious reason for her virginity maybe. The answer was the last nail in the coffin of George's hope.
"Who cares?" Brett had answered. "I don't even know her religion. Anyhow, what's the important thing is what I'm going to do with the money she brings with her. With it I can finally buy that sports car I've always wanted." George should have backed out then and there. But he had given his word already...
Outside of his room George heard noises, bringing him back to the present. A woman was calling for someone, but seemed not to get an answer. George shrugged, not knowing who that could have been. He knew none of the other guests Brett had mentioned, and the bride's family came from another town, even another state. Small chance he would know them! But it was not surprising that Brett hadn't invited any of their classmates from school; they would probably have shot him. George laughed at that thought, but it was a bitter laugh. He should have shot Brett himself. Best man! Ridiculous...
The woman outside shouted again, a bit anxious now. George was tempted to open the door and ask her what the problem might be, but he was half undressed and there wasn't much time before he had to leave for the church. Most of the others had to be on their way already, he guessed. And he was still in his underwear. Sighing yet again he searched for his trousers. His subconscious was reacting to his reluctance for this job. But he knew duty, and so he tried to speed up. He expected others to pay their debt, and he paid them every time himself. Even if talked into it while being drunk. He heaved another sigh.
And then he heard a knock on his door.
The knock had been a shy one, almost silent, and deep in his thought George had nearly missed it. He couldn't miss the voice, though. Female, and a bit frightened. "Is someone in?"
George was astonished. "Yes. Yes, just a moment." Room service? He opened the door a crack, but couldn't see anyone out in the hall. "Yes?" he asked, half expecting his mind to have played a trick on him. "Uh, hello..." he heard the woman from outside his line of sight. "Would you mind letting me in?" The voice was sweet and shy. But her shyness and her words didn't really match...
"Would love to, but I'm in my underwear, sorry." George answered, still seeing no one.
"Oh." was the quiet answer.
"May I help you?" George asked the floor. "May I see you?" he added.
There was silence from the hallway. "I'm not sure ... who are you?" the unseen but definitely female voice asked. George was getting more confused by the moment.
"I'm George Mason, and I'm late for a wedding. I'm the best man in fact. I have to get myself dressed and little time left for that. So would you please make up your mind?" He was getting angry by that charade already. But her next words let those feelings evaporate immediately.
"I'm Veronica Mill, and also bound for the wedding." And with an even smaller voice she added, "I'm the bride. And I'm also undressed."
George was at a loss of words now. He opened the door fully, momentarily not remembering his lack of clothes ... or hers. But he still could see no one at first. Then he realized that Veronica was still behind the door which opened into the hallway! Finally, he saw her peeking around the wood. She had shoulder length blond hair and was a bit older than he had expected by her voice. Twenty-four years old, he remembered Brett telling him. But Brett had also mentioned 'presentable' to him, and that wasn't fitting at all. She was a beauty, or actually the small part he saw was beautiful. Her eyes were a deep blue, like the Caribbean Sea in the spring, and her face was flushed in embarrassment. She was eying him from head to toe now, blushing even more deeply. George frowned, but then remembered his lack of clothing. He blushed himself now, trying to cover as much as possible of himself with his hands. Veronica blushed even deeper and pointedly avoided looking at anything lower than his face.
"Why are you undressed? And at my door?" George managed to ask after clearing his throat twice.
"I..." she started to answer, but then both of them heard a noise from farther down the hall where the elevator was located. Veronica squeaked and circled the door before even looking in that direction. Suddenly, she was in George's room and had slammed the door behind her. Then she put her ear on the door, listening.
Now it was George's turn to look at her from head to toe. She was not undressed; in fact she was pretty much covered -- if you call a linen sheet a cover. She was wrapped in one, showing little skin, but perfect curves under very thin fabric. She wasn't flat chested, this one, and she had bare feet, George noticed. Cute little feet, matching her size of just above five feet. She was about a head shorter than himself.
A harrumph took George out of his reverie and he saw that she had seen him looking her up and down. Now it was his turn to blush deeper, but Veronica was blushed also yet again. For a moment there was an awkward silence. Then George cleared his throat and asked: "How can I be of help to you?"
Veronica seemed to be at a loss of words suddenly. After a stretched silence she whispered something that was too muffled for George to understand.
"What? Sorry, I didn't understand..."
"I asked you if you'd be so kind to help me to..." she hesitated again, "remove my bra?"
"What?" George wasn't sure if he had heard correctly. But before he could ask her to repeat herself, the words started to rush out of Veronica.
"My bra won't unhook, it somehow caught. And on top of this, there's a bit of metal poking on the inside now. If I try to get out of it unopened, I'll get a scratch on my back and my wedding dress doesn't cover my back, or at least not much of it, so help me please get that damned thing off so I can get dressed finally!"
George wasn't sure how much pauses she had made in her rush of words or if she had breathed at all, but he had followed everything open mouthed.
"You are wearing a bra under that sheet?" he asked dumbfounded, staring at her breasts. Oh, now he noticed the fine outlines. She had one with transparent straps, he realized. Looking upwards in understanding he saw Veronica's eyes blazing.
"Oh, sorry..." he said in embarrassment. "Of course I'll help you. But if you can't push your bra up, maybe you can pull it down? And climb out of it?"
Her look told him what she thought about that idea. She had definite curves and the broken hook would still leave a trail. Even if she was able to pull it down she also had a curvy ass so there would be problems there as well. At least he hadn't stared at Veronica's ass while figuring this one out.
"Will you please just unhook my bra? Please? If you'd be so kind?"
George nodded and finally stepped behind Veronica, who then lowered her sheet. She did indeed have a bra under it, a white lacy one that covered a very nice C-cup, leaving the nipples partly visible. George got a good view over her shoulder before Veronica covered her bra with her hand, holding the sheet with her other one. He quickly concentrated on his task at her back again. The metal hooks were a mess.
"Did you hit them with a hammer?" he asked in astonishment, not really expecting an answer. "And, by the way, why are you alone with the problem? Isn't it the usual thing that the bride has lots of female relatives crawling around her helping her with everything? Where are all of them?"
"I got nervous when it didn't open at once," Veronica confessed in a small voice, "and tried to rip it open. My sister scolded me for that, and we got into a quarrel. Me versus all of my family. The usual thing. They think Brett isn't good enough for me, that he drinks and whor ... does stuff. So I threw them out."
'They were probably right', George thought. 'But I shouldn't say that right now... ' In the following silence only the scraping metal and the grinding of George's teeth were heard. Then Veronica spoke again.
"You did not contradict my family's remarks. Aren't you Brett's friend?" Her voice was toneless.
.... There is more of this story ...