I had to admit, I didn't really care about the wedding.
The groom was a guy I knew back in high school, but hadn't seen for about ten years. Nice of him to think of me, but I really didn't care that much. I only went because it gave me a chance to see his soon-to-be wife, a dazzler back in high school when we were seniors and she a freshman, a stunning beauty today.
I had missed out on Kimberly then. I'd had my chances, but she was just a little bit young for me at the time. Now, of course, I wouldn't have minded the opportunity to at least look in on her one last time before she was married off....
Hey, now there was an idea.
Moving quickly, I snuck away from the people waiting to get into the sanctuary and over toward the wedding party. They were back in an anteroom getting ready for the processional. I looked around quickly. Aha! The boquets were laid out on a table, and nobody was paying much attention to them at the moment. Perfect.
I knew I'd have to time this right. Looking at the table, I noted the position of the bride's bouquet. I heard the sound of people starting down the hall. It was now or never. Taking one last look to ensure the coast was clear, I leapt for the table, shrinking myself in the process.
I flew up onto the table, but to my horror, I was off target. Instead of landing on the table itself, I flew toward an enormous wicker basket filled with rose petals. I impacted among them, knocking the wind out of myself.
Quickly, I rose, and started moving toward the side of the basket. I didn't have much time....
In fact, I didn't have any.
Suddenly, the basket jerked, and moved dizzyingly through the air. I saw a huge, perfectly manicured hand above me, and briefly caught a glimpse of Julie Tabbert, the maid of honor, as she handed me off. A much smaller hand took the basket, and an enormous face filled my sky.
The flower girl smiled down at the rose petals she would get to drop. She was cute--probably six or seven--but I had no desire to spy on a little kid. Besides, this could get dangerous.
We started moving, and I lost my balance and fell down among the rose petals. I struggled to right myself, but the girl was swinging the basket back and forth, back and forth.
I heard the organ playing Canon in D, and tried in vain to move the baseball-infield-sized petals so I could get free of them. I knew I didn't have much time--the program had listed just three bridesmaids and groomsmen, and then the flower girl would follow.
The swaying stopped. So did the movement forward.
Then, we were off again, the basket steady, the movement rythmic. I heard the sound of the giant petals being lifted from the basket, then nothing, then lifting again. I hoped I was buried deep enough that the girl wouldn't get to me, but as the petals cleared from the sky, I knew that was hoping for too much.
The girl's dainty hand entered, and grasped a handful of petals and me. I looked in vain for some sort of ring or something that I could grasp, but there was nothing. As if in slow motion, the girl tossed the petals and me forward. I fell, bouncing off the front of the girl's dress as she continued to advance. I bounced past the hem and tucked and rolled to miss her giant foot. I lay on the ground, gasping.
Lohengrin started to play.
I tried to get up and run, but the pain was strong. I knew it would subside in a minute or so, and I knew I didn't have that much time. I heard the incredible rumble as the congregation rose to their feet, and watched as horror as the lovely figure of Kimberly, accompanied by her father, started to walk toward me.
I forced my aching body to stand, but I was in the middle of the runner and Kimberly was cutting a wide swath; I knew I couldn't outrun her. Then, inspiration struck. I prepared myself as her floor-length dress approached. Steady...steady....
The mass of tulle and lace was upon me like a flash, and I was climbing the second it came over me. Kim advanced on the altair like a comet, but I was able to pull myself upward until I reached about the level of her calf--hardly safe, but better than facing her feet.
As we came to a rest, I had a moment or two to enjoy my surroundings. I worked my way in through the layers of the dress until I reached the silk of her dress; below me, her foot lay motionless, ensconced in a pearly ivory shoe. I could see she was wearing white nylons for the occasion; well, it made sense. I wasn't that far above the foot, and I wasn't getting that great a view. Hmmm....
Throwing caution to the wind, I dropped a few meters to the top of her nylon-clad food. I started to slide, but caught myself just as Kim decided to retrieve her foot. She pulled it completely inside the dress, and I was treated to a phenomenal view up her legs to her crotch.
I could see her garter, just above her leg at thigh level. I figured I could reach it if I climbed quickly; this was a Catholic ceremony, we'd have time. As if to confirm this, we moved again. It was all I could do to hang on to the enormous pad as it lumbered toward its destination. Then it was too much. I lost my grip and slid forward. I feared I would go off the edge of the shoe, but that was more luck than I had; instead, I hit the shoe and ricocheted down into it just as Kim sat down.
It was hot here, and the shoe smelled of Kim's foot sweat. I pulled myself up, only to realize I'd bounced to the toe area. Above me, Kim's toes flexed and bent nervously as she awaited the end of the interminable homily. I knew I was safe only until she rose again. Carefully, I found the gap between the little and fourth toes--the nearest one to me. I pulled my way through the nylon, and in between Kim's toes.
I did it just in time. Kim was back up, and her feet were pushing down with tons of force. I probably would have survived--it's amazing what you can at this height--but it would have hurt like crazy. As it was, we were walking. Each step reverberated throughout the foot like a piledriver. After a few moments, we stopped, and I carefully squeezed my way up to the top of her foot.
I slid my way along her foot until daylight reappeared. I considered climbing back out of her nylons, but I had a better idea. Being ever-so-careful, I climbed her nylons on the inside, sliding my back along her smooth, freshly shaved legs. The going was easy when she was still, considerably less so when she moved. After a while, another complicating factor: she had sat back down again, and she was rubbing her legs together, carefully but earnestly, trying to scratch an itch halfway between foot and knee. Since that itch was me, I was constantly having to stop and hold tight while tons of woman slammed together around me. I was a little bit below her knee when one smack of her legs pulled the nylon and me around to the back of her leg, just below the back of her knee.
She stood up right about then, and I resumed climbing for a moment. The sounds of the organ informed me that we were leaving; the bride's happy, quick steps left no doubt. It wasn't until we reached the receiving line that I was able to climb again.