black and white (and shades of grey)
After so many years of refusing to drink alcohol and to lie, she was amazed at how easily both slipped in and out. She could have counted the hours until her wedding without taking her shoes off, and there she was with her back against the side of the pool. As long as it was sex, at this point, it didn't matter who with. George, ever the gentleman, was saving himself, or herself (either way she wasn't getting any) for their wedding day and she had held out for such a long time. How sad that she'd broken down so soon before the ceremony.
His legs, for being as tall as she was, were still much longer than hers and his toes grated against the place where the side of the pool curved down into the bottom. And her legs were wide open and wrapped around him so tightly that it left her pelvis confused and unable to do anything but be pounded into. She was confused too and couldn't think clearly with his lips there on her neck and shoulders and with the trail of empty bottles she'd left behind her. She only drank when she was avoiding something. Ironic that the two times she'd really gotten wasted was when she was avoiding a divorce and now, when she was avoiding her wedding.
Two orgasms later she had sobered up and swallowed enough pool water to drown a large animal. But he was still drowsy and pinned her to the poolside with his drunken weight. So, she pushed him aside and finished off the bottle, not ready to face reality. She had a few hours before daylight and she wanted them not to be lost. She had stumbled into the changing house to find a robe when he finally pulled himself out of the sloshing water and lay face up on the cement. Her naked body was covered with goose bumps and she was grateful for the dry robe. It had been Dexter's, his initials, all four of them, were monogrammed on to the breast. This struck her as funny and she was giggling when she came and draped a robe over his now shriveled nakedness.
He wasn't sure why she was laughing but by the time she had started breathing again, she was heaped into his arms and they were on the way back to the house.
"Mike?"
"Yes, darling?" he asked, humming loudly to her as they tripped and stumbled along.
"You mustn't tell George or Dexter." she said and he responded with the words to the song. He wasn't singing it, but crooning and she found this most adorable. Her nose rested against his vibrating adam's apple and by the time he had to them to the house, he was singly gleefully, if not quite on key, into her ear and into the faces of the two men who had ever, supposedly, loved her.