"You're so grown up, I can hardly believe it," Mom said, almost crying ... again.
"I know." I smiled at her reflection in the mirror, sitting at the small vanity. "I'm so nervous."
"Hold still, Kylie!" My best friend Janisha wanted to fix my make-up.
It was my big day, my wedding day, and I wasn't really all that nervous. My mom wanted to hear that kind of stuff though, so I gave it to her. It wasn't everyday her daughter got married, after all, and she only had two of us. My younger sister was just sixteen, so Mom still had something to look forward to anyway.
At nineteen, I was halfway through my first year of college. So this wasn't really the best time for a wedding, in my opinion, but Rodney was so eager and my parents liked him a lot. He was a few years older than me, just graduated from college and working as an accountant for my dad's plumbing business, a pretty successful one. Business had been good enough that Daddy needed a real accountant and who could he trust more than a son-in-law? So I'd been pushed a little, yeah, and it was more of an arranged marriage than anything else, or at least it seemed that way sometimes.
"You're so beautiful!" My mom was crying now and had been on and off all day, but seeing me in her wedding dress was really going to do her in.
I still wore my slip for the moment, since it was bad luck to do make-up in a wedding dress, especially at the hands of Janisha. She tended to be a little clumsy when she was excited. Her parents were big on their 'roots' which is why she had the silly name. My parents were pretty normal, thank God, and all they knew about Africa was what they saw on the National Geographic channel and Save the Children infomercials. It was enough to convince them that our roots were right here in Minneapolis. Rodney and his friends were more ethnic, to put it politely, embracing the turmoil of the inner-city or some such nonsense, but his parents seemed okay. I'm from the suburbs, middle class America, and all I'd grown up wanting was a pony, my celphone, and a cool Friendster page.
Now I was just glad I had a normal name, mostly, and that I looked slightly less black than some girls I knew. I have dark skin, for sure, very dark, and big brown eyes and kinky black hair, but my lips are full and pouting, rather than over-inflated. My ass is nice and pert, very round and firm, without being ridiculous. Unlike Janisha, for example. She's a real booty girl and her ass is huge; it always has been. Some guys like that, black guys especially, but I rather like my smaller butt. It goes with my hips, which are deftly rounded and in perfect proportion to my narrow waist, as well as my long, toned legs. I'm almost five ten, so I have legs that reach the floor and guys appreciate that.
My tits are a little on the large side, but only because I do look small despite my height. It's my waist and hips again; a pair of generous 34C cups above a 22 inch waist and 32 inch hips does tend to make a girl look a bit top heavy. They're firm too, nice and round with dark perky nipples that get about a half inch long when they want to. People have been asking me if my tits are real since I was fifteen, I swear, because they grew fast and perfect. I'm pretty proud of my body and I blame it on good genes and luck more than any effort on my part.
Best of all I have a very pretty face to go with that great body of mine. I've seen girls who don't and I count my blessings because it is nice being pretty, even beautiful on occasion. I have a heart-shaped face, with a small and somewhat pointed nose. It runs in my mom's side of the family and I'm glad because my dad has a real big nose, wide and thick like his lips. I got my mom's features and she's a lovely woman herself, so we're all happy about that. I like to comb my hair out, keeping it permed so that it's more straight than it would otherwise be. I wear it to my shoulders, but for my wedding it's pinned up of course.
I am beautiful, my mom is right, and much more than any one man deserves in my opinion, but I'm getting married. I took a deep breath and smiled at my reflection. Janisha had done a pretty good job with my make-up and it was time for my dress, virginal white and a hundred years old easily. It had been passed down through four and now five generations. I was the fifth girl wearing it, and someday my daughter would be married in that dress. It's a lot of responsibility putting on something like that and for the first time that morning I really did feel a bit nervous.
Rodney is nice, but looking myself in the mirror I really did have to ask myself why I'd accepted his proposal. Just to make my parents happy? That was the wrong reason, and not entirely the real one. I knew why I was doing it and if I told you now, you might not believe me. It would sound silly, just as it seemed silly to me then, and I should have changed my mind. But Rodney ... Why did he have to be nice? He wasn't really giving me a reason to back out and I was too chicken to do it by myself. Nineteen was way too young to be getting married.
The wedding went without a hitch at the First Baptist church. Rodney looked very nice and he smiled the whole time. My bridesmaids wore blue. Daddy gave me away with a kiss and a tear, cause he's a big softy underneath all that tough plumber. I promised to love, honor, and obey my new husband. It was all very sweet, very traditional, and about what I'd expected.
Our reception was at the Holiday Inn downtown, in the banquet hall there. It was a lot of fun and being the center of attention was even more intoxicating than the champagne, which was flowing freely. Rodney was immaculate in his new role, knowing he was the luckiest man on the planet, and we went through all the rituals. The toasts and cake cutting and pictures, all of that. It was a real good time and we were enjoying ourselves, but I could tell my brand new husband was eager to get us out of there and up to our room. We had the bridal suite, of course, in that same hotel, which was very convenient. It came with a heart-shaped Jacuzzi, of all things.
"Are you ready to go upstairs, Kylie?" Rodney whispered in my ear, and I just gave him a smile.
He wanted to have sex with me so badly it wasn't funny. I didn't think he was a virgin, but I hadn't asked. I'd avoided talk like that as much as I could just because I didn't want to lead him on. He knew I was a virgin though, certified almost, because that was a big, big deal to my parents, especially my dad. He was seriously old school about his daughters and I'd been a very good one all through high school. Rodney was going to enjoy his new bride, that's what he was thinking; I could see it in his eyes. I was the hottest, sexiest girl he'd ever known and now I was his ... If he could get me upstairs.
"May I dance with the bride?" another man asked me, a tall blonde haired guy named Jamie.
He worked for my dad, along with a dozen other men. Three black guys, seven white guys, a Native American, and a guy named Roger, who was from Pakistan, but his real name was Rajah or something. My dad was big on equal opportunity, but mostly all those guys were just darn good plumbers, even if most of them didn't look like plumbers, at least not when they were dressed up for a wedding. Anyway, of course I had to dance with all of them, being the boss' daughter, and so I smiled and gave Rodney a kiss on the cheek.
"In a little bit, okay?" I ignored my husband's frown and let Jamie take my hand. Everyone clapped and smiled as I danced again.
I like dancing and Jamie wasn't bad at it. The band played real music too, so he had his hand on my hip and my hand was on his shoulder, and it was fun. We kept daylight between us, you know. I was the most beautiful girl in the room, the most beautiful girl in the world on that day, and every man there between nine and ninety wanted to dance with me. That's a lot of men too, considering the guest list numbered over seventy-five people, plus their dates and kids and friends, you know. We had a hundred and fifty people there easily and it was outrageously fun. Rodney just had to accept it. A girl only gets married once and it really is her day, as any man should be happy to tell you.
"Whew!" I was giggling and happy and having the time of my life a few hours later.
I felt a little tipsy too, but not bad. Rodney was a bit drunk. While I'd been dancing, all his friends and new coworkers had been getting to know him and making friends with the boss' new son-in-law, so it was excusable. Those guys might not have looked like plumbers, but they could drink like plumbers. Rodney's own friends and family were there as well, and they were nice. The best man, a big round black guy named Maurice, was pretty funny and he took care of his best friend. He made sure Rodney's glass was full and my husband danced with some of the girls, which I didn't mind. He was the groom and so it was his day too, sort of. It was a really great party.
"Can we go upstairs now?" Rodney pleaded as soon as I sat down, his hand on my thigh, his thick lips tickling my ear.
"Hmmm..." I laughed, teasing him because I knew exactly what Rodney wanted.
We'd kissed a few times and I'd let him rub my tits on a couple dates, but no more than that. I'd promised myself to him on our wedding night and it had been a long, six month engagement. I imagined Rodney had some serious energy for what would come later in our marital bed. He could barely contain himself.
.... There is more of this story ...