Chapter 25: Wooden Horses

Interlude: 25^th Anniversary

Cindy:

Everyone admits the ceremony was forgettable. The minister read it straight out of an old hymnal. There were favorable comments about the music, but that is about it. What everyone talks about is the photo session on the merry-go-round. Uncle Lars says it was the first time he met Aunt Jo, which is silly. They met in the City earlier in the week. Aunt Jo still has the business card he gave her, but she doesn't disagree with him.

Sheila:

I hate being late, but the crowd was not too put out. Our group made it to the boathouse in reasonable order, then went out to the raft. It is a measure of how much Francine had been effected, that she had nothing to say about Siobhan and Christine crossing the catwalk. They held their arms out as if fighting for balance. The walk was moving, but that seemed excessive.

Once on the raft, I hoped things would be better. There are sayings about unfulfilled wishes. The butterflies were back, in force. I kept my eyes on Sean and paced to the music. It seemed to work. I gave my hand to Sean and turned to the altar. There was a man there.

The fact that I did not recognize Pastor Mueller says all that needs saying about my mental state. Thinking back, I am glad the others had their scene. It kept me from worrying a hole in my stomach. I used the homily for that. It was short, but long enough for some serious fretting. When the time came for the oaths, I was shocked that my voice was steady. So was Sean's. When he kissed me, it came as a surprise. I have watched the video several times, but that kiss is the only thing I remember with clarity.

The exit went better. Sean was nervous on the catwalk, but not as bad as Siobhan or Christine. Curtis made up for it. I had a chance to do some breathing exercises while Curtis and Christine edged across. Siobhan came last, while Francine did her best not to smile. Francine can tap dance on a rope. A bobbing walk is nothing.

Once everyone was in place, we marched out to form the reception line. It had been years, but the old feelings were back. I always hated this part of performance. Some like it more than others, but even the biggest attention junkies eventually tire of it. I was the star of our show, so everyone wanted to get their bit in. Worse, some were current or past clients, often attending with family. If getting married was this much trouble, I could do without a repeat.

That thought brought my attention back to Sean. His demeanor gave me the assurance I needed. He could provide the stability I needed, both at that moment and onward. Sean has the oddest inferiority complex. He thinks of himself as plodding and wonders what I see in him. I can never explain it so he understands, but his calm assurance that evening is all I need to recall. Oddly, Christine says the same of me.

Nothing takes forever. After the reception line thinned, Sean wanted to get some pictures. For a supposed plodder, Sean can make some very good off-the-cuff decisions. He suggested we use the carousel. As soon as we heard it, everyone knew it would be ideal.

We made our way through the crowd. Along the way, we picked up Jason, Lars Gunter and Curtis' wife, Madeline. Sean and I sat in the swan chair. Curtis and Madeline took horses behind us. Lars and Siobhan were behind them. Around the bend was a triangle of Francine, Jason and Christine. For some reason the words menage a troi popped into my head. Sean shocked me by speaking.

"Ten dollars for your thoughts." Oops.

"You were thinking about all your girls and their sex lives." Guilty as charged.

"I can fix that." Oh shit. "We are going to start a public scene, right now, in front of the cameras." Suddenly Francine's bedroom arrangements were a million miles away. It got worse. "I don't suppose you could get your panties off?"

Blushing while laughing is the oddest sensation. I wondered if I would ever manage it again. My expression broke Sean's train of thought. "What?" I leaned over and kissed him. In his ear, "I left them in the bureau. Try not to get me too wet; this dress will show." It was Sean's turn to blush.

Curtis quipped, "Get a room you two." Sean blushed even more and my pussy twitched. What was interesting was Siobhan's reaction. I could not see it at the time, but I do video for a living. Siobhan went red, then white, then even redder. Lars said, "Gut. Ihr Blut ist rot." I think everyone spoke that much German, so we all cracked up. I pulled some great candid shots.

When the laughter died down, Sean signaled to end the ride. We all formed up outside the rope. Sean looked at Curtis and Lars, "They're going to need to change for the dance." Curtis laughed, and got swatted by Madeline, who winked at me. Lars had to figure it out, so he only smiled. Unfortunately, Sean was more right than he knew. We had not sprung Siobhan's gown on her yet.

I leaned over and whispered, "This may take a while. I need to get Siobhan into an actual dress. Negotiations could be lengthy." Sean barked a laugh, then whispered back, "Don't put on any panties. I intend to take you someplace public." Then he pinched my ass to explain the blood in my face.

Herr Gunter said, "Sie ist sehr beeindruckend. Sie sind ein Glückspilz, Herr Richards."¹ Sean replied, "Sie haben keine Ahnung."² They both laughed. The German was too thick for my talents, but the compliment was clear. I felt warm all through as I kissed Sean to take my leave. Time to finish Siobhan's makeover.

I was almost to the house before I wondered exactly how Sean meant "take me".

¹ She is quite impressive. You are a lucky guy.

² You have no idea.

Sean:

Sheila was beautiful. Everyone knew it and Justin recorded it. So much the good part. All that had nothing to do with the situation on the houseboat. Sheila was coming to me like a Goddess out of mythology. I was only human. What was I to do?

I adopted Francine's perspective. This was a stage and we were actors. I was the groom. My part was simple for a reason. Everything assumed that I would be overwhelmed by the moment. It was a good assumption, because Sheila was that beautiful. You've seen the pictures.

Still, the masque must be played. I always found it ironic that "masque" means both play and cover for the face. That particular irony came home to roost. We reached the end of a play and it was time to exit. The married couple goes first, so I had to negotiate the bobbing walk. My bride did it without difficulty, why couldn't I? Suffice to say, I made it across and Sheila was there to meet me. What more could I ask? I could ask to be spared the reception line.

My only consolation was that I was not the worst. Except for Sheila and Francine, our crowd was a little unstable when we reached terra firma, but there was no time to linger. We had to get out to our places for the receiving line. Shit. Double Shit. We did it anyway.

I had input on the invitations, which I used to keep the size of the crowd down. It didn't work. Everyone and his sister's dog was at lakeside. This meant we had to go through them to set up the line and they had to come through our party to leave. Ouch. We did it anyway. My wife was the beauty of the generation. Fuck the rest of you.

I have a business smile. I brought it out and kept it on. Occasionally, there was someone of interest. Usually it was someone that Cynthia had as a client, though I could never tell for sure. Looking for such nuggets kept me sane. Eventually, the line ran out. One of the last ones through was Lars Gunter.

I could already tell he had designs on Jo. Her reaction made it obvious she was aware of his interest. Who would have thought? Jo put out that she was lesbian. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife. Jo had no intention of refusing, or even playing coy. The entire mating dance was laid out in front of of me, with both sides asking permission to move forward. Naturally, I said "Hell, yes.", not that either of them believed me. Sometimes obstacles are important. Gerald played that role, but that was later.

After the reception line, I wanted to show off my bride. Given the landscape, that meant the carousel. Our group jumped the line, with cameras in tow. Of all the snap decisions I made that year, pulling the old merry-go-round out of storage for a wedding had the most lasting consequences.

I envisioned an attraction, but not the photographic possibilities. Various shots cropped up in magazines for years. I think Justin made enough royalties to retire. That said, it was entirely impromptu. Sheila and I claimed a bench. Curtis and his wife claimed horses nearby. Let the shrinks make their day with the implications of the rest. Jo and Lars chose horses behind us. Christine, Francine and Jason rode horses on the far side. Justin got pictures of everyone.

Go to the lobby at Headquarters. You will see a life sized picture of Sheila in her wedding dress. Next to that, you will see a picture of the two of us, in a swan bench on the carousel. It was a good day.

Siobhan:

What is it about a high point that forces you down? After putting a major beat down on Francine, we had to move into her area of comfort. First there were the makeup gurus. Then there was the troupe down to the boathouse. In a different vein, there was the moving walk to the houseboat. It all conspired to take the buzz off.