It's in the details

I received a request to elaborate on an encounter that I touched on in an earlier post. Here 'tis.

We slid into the first empty seats we saw, me with my hand over my mouth to stifle the giggles and she squeezing her lips together until they turned white. Leave it to us to get there so late that we interrupted the wedding party as it began its traipse down the aisle. She leaned into me, shaking with laughter, her bare, sweaty right arm pressing into mine.

Avoiding eye contact at all costs, we got the giggling under control. I had to consciously try to slow my breathing, so I matched my inhales to hers, my arm barely brushing her arm every few seconds or so. Goose bumps rose up.

Then, she jerked up, mumbling, "Oh! Crap...my bra!" as she slipped away, leaving me laughing again and fidgeting through some singing or something until she returned to my side.

"Couldn't fix it, think I'm going to have to go without it. Maybe you can help me when we get out of here."

I could, yeah, I could.

I believe it was a longish ceremony, but the memory of the particulars is a blur.

I guided her back to my car and got her settled in her seat, her back to me.

"Turn around and let me see what's going on here." I thought back a couple of hours, to when she'd come over and asked me to help her dress. She'd held her hair up, exposing the white nape of her neck, and I'd stood behind her and fastened the clasps and tied the halter top that I was about to undo. Oh man. I worried that my shaking hands would prevent me from undoing the safety pins I'd placed alongside her shoulder blades to hold the misbehaving bra in place without stabbing her. Squeezing them together for a few moments between my legs steadied my nerves. The pins came out without any bloodletting, but brushing the backs of my hands against her soft back brought the shakes again. Could she tell?

Not trusting myself to speak clearly, I patted her shoulder to indicate that she should slip the bra off and leaned back. Her raised arms formed an elegant curve and she tossed the still-warm garment backward, hitting me in the face. My nose flared at the scent of her musky perfume. She laughed. I cleared my throat and fanned my face, sure that it was bright red by now.

"So...is this going to work or do I look like a slut?"

Wriggling around, she faced me and spread her arms, inviting me to look. Perfection, but she didn't need to know quite yet.

"Just let me tug this a bit..." I grabbed hold of the fabric, first tickling her to make her laugh again. I pulled this way, then that, til she was both giggling and jiggling. Delightful.

I raised my eyes. "Your face is flushed," I told her, holding my hands still, finally, my thumbs pressing into the soft skin at the edges of the halter. "You look beautiful. Totally slutty and beautiful."