The Wedding Gathering

As the best man at my buddy's wedding, I was at the center of a raucous celebration, filled with French 75s and champagne, echoing with laughter and music. The wedding reception was a festive blur, a true testament to the couple's joy and the guests' enthusiasm.

Unexpected Travel Companions and Arrival at the Hotel

The plan after the festivities was straightforward: I was to drive the bride and groom to their hotel near the airport, as they had an early morning flight awaiting them. In anticipation of their special night, I had arranged for a two-room suite, complete with a congratulatory bottle of Alizé and champagne for a final toast before I left them to their new life together. However, in a spontaneous twist, two of the bridesmaids, accompanied by their husbands, decided to join us for the ride, bringing along a bottle of cognac snatched from the reception's remnants.

Upon arriving at the hotel, the celebrations continued briefly with heartfelt toasts, until the bride and groom discreetly retired to their bedroom, locking the door behind them. This left the five of us—myself, the two couples, and the joy of unexpected company—in the suite's reception area. The night was deepening, and with everyone significantly inebriated, it was clear that driving back to the city was out of the question at that hour. Prudence dictated a brief nap to sober up.

A Late Night Revelation and Unplanned Encounter

One couple curled up on the couch in a spoon-like embrace, quickly succumbing to sleep. The other couple made do with the room's lone chair: he sat, while she used her coat as a pillow in his lap, drifting off. I found an extra blanket in the closet, crafted a makeshift pallet on the floor, and was soon lost to slumber myself.

A few hours later, I awoke to the sound of snoring from the couch. The husband in the chair remained asleep, but his wife was absent. Soon, I heard the toilet flush, and she reappeared—her appearance plain yet kindly, her physique hinting at the fuller hips of future years and legs shaped by motherhood. She wore a simple white blouse and a grey knee-length skirt, her expression slightly dazed from the night's indulgences.

As she resettled in front of her husband, facing me this time, she noticed my wakefulness and quipped about rousing the rest of our group to depart. As we conversed, she shifted position, unintentionally giving me a brief, startling glimpse beneath her skirt—she had neglected to redon her underwear.

Her casual acknowledgment of the oversight led to a flirtatious exchange, where compliments were passed and intimate desires subtly confessed. Despite the risky setting, with potential interruptions abound, the night's lingering recklessness spurred me on.

I approached her on hands and knees, a sense of both urgency and folly guiding me. The thrill of the forbidden, heightened by alcohol, made caution a distant afterthought. What followed was a fleeting, intense encounter, marked by her stifled sounds and the spontaneous expression of pent-up desire.

Reflection and Farewell

Afterward, as she retreated to the bathroom and I remained sitting, draped in a blanket, the reality of our actions began to settle in amidst the fading buzz of intoxication. The situation grew tenser as everyone began to stir and awaken.

The drive back to the city was a silent, contemplative journey, the space between us filled with unspoken thoughts and tentative regrets. Upon reaching her home, the complexities of the night resurfaced as we discussed the evening's events and her feelings of guilt. She expressed a wish to reconnect once her emotions were sorted, opening the door to future conversations.

Indeed, she called me months later, but that is a story for another time.

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