"As your maid of honor, I'd like to voice my concern that I believe we ought to be doing just about anything but this on the morning of your wedding day," I protested, small hands on my back pushing me forward.

       "The makeup artist doesn't arrive for another half-hour," Quinn replied nonchalantly.

       "That's 30 minutes to further celebrate your big day. We could be taking pictures and sipping cocktails in fancy robes."

      "And we will have plenty of time to do all of that after this," she insisted. "We're getting the underwear."

       Grumbling, I let her guide me into the lingerie store.

       "What happened to you not making a big deal out of this?" I challenged.

       "It is a big deal. It's your first date in ages."

       "Not a date," I countered. "And it's not nearly as big of a deal as your wedding day."

       "Give me 30 minutes to make a big deal out of this and then we celebrate the beginning of my forever." She hauled me towards the back of the store, which was much to my dismay, the most revealing section. "And it is so a date."

       "No. It's not."

       "You agreed to this."

      "I agreed to talk to him."

      "You agreed to let us set you up with people."

      "But you said I choose what to make of it. I decide the level of commitment."

      "So... You do want just a hookup?" She grinned; brow cocked. "Then, we're in the right place."

       "There will be no hooking up."

       "Then it is a first date."

       I sighed. You could never win with this girl. "Fine. It's a very unconventional date."

      "A date, nonetheless," she noted, rummaging through a drawer of lacey undergarments. She held the pieces against me for measurement. My eyes budged at the ticket price. These flimsy pieces of underwear were more expensive that my entire outfit, which had a considerably greater amount of material.

       "Since it's just a date and there will be no hooking up, we don't need to be here." I made way for the door. I didn't get very far. Pulled backwards, I choked on my navy sweater.

      "It may go better than you think. You have to be prepared. Here." She threw a white pair of matching underwear my way. "This would look great on your skin tone."

      Holding the garments away from my body, pinching them between my fingers, I narrowed my eyes. "I do have underwear you know."

       Quinn chortled. "Granny panties that are five years old don't count."

      "Excuse me?" Why did it matter what my underwear looked like? Wasn't the point to take them off anyways? Comfort over beauty. Always.

       With an eye roll, she moved onto a second drawer. "You're getting the underwear. Now help me choose a pair."

       "You know I hate underwear shopping."

      "You wanted this to be about me," she pointed out. "So, help me choose the perfect nightwear to seduce my wife to be."

      Sighing, I stepped next to her, carefully examining the table of almost non-existent material.

      "Pick something green," I suggested. "To match your eyes... Or black to match the venue."

      "The honeymoon venue?" She inquired animatedly, momentarily forgetting about the panties.

      I shrugged coolly, this time pleased to distract myself with the search for green or black underwear. Tasked to plan her honeymoon, I had kept quiet for months. This was the first I hinted of my plans. Despite my nonchalance, Quinn bounced excitedly, dangling cocktail earrings swaying.

      "You didn't!" Opposing her words, the squeal she released implied that she knew. She was right. Of course, I had booked the place she had raved about for years.

      "Would I book the kinky hotel slash haunted, out of town retreat as your honeymoon get-away? Doesn't seem very romantic."

      "You're the best!" Jumping up and down, she hugged me from behind, chin just barely reaching my shoulder.

       "I haven't confirmed anything yet," I reminded, holding back my laughter. "Don't get too excited, you may very well be disappointed."

       "You can't fool me." She grinned madly. "I get to be on my best gore whore behavior. We're in the wrong section."

      Eagerly she dragged me deeper into the store, towards the drastically darker section. Spotting a variety of whips, cuffs, and things I shall not dare say, I moaned. And, not in the pleasing way. This is what I got for trying to be nice. Pro tip: don't fulfill your friend's dream of booking a knockoff gothic sex dungeon.

       We we're the last to make it to the dressing room. The bride and maid of honor the last to arrive.

      The makeup artist having long set up her products, the bridesmaids were already in their flowery robes, cocktail glasses half empty.

      "You're late," Lada stated the obvious, her special way of greeting us. Rocking some blue hair curlers, she was sprawled across the lounge chair, long legs on display.

      "I had to get my sexy on," Quinn explained, dropping her bags at the door. Throwing herself onto the rolling chair, she grinned at the beautician. "I'm ready to be turned into an elegant pixie bride."

      I shook my head affectionately and handed her her robe.

     "What?" She beamed, eagerly reaching for her wine glass. "You know me: cute and innocent on the outside, kinky sex goddess on the inside."

      Laughing exasperatedly, I pushed her toward the bathroom. "For the fourth time in three hours: I wish not to hear the explicit details of your sex life."

       "You're missing out." Disappearing into the bathroom, we were spared from her sexual innuendoes for few moments.

       Everyone in their robes, half the party's members makeup done, it was a typical bridal dressing. I would know. I had attended four in the past two years. I was fulfilling my duty to make sure everything and everyone ran smoothly and helping Quinn look her best. Everything went as planned, until Josie made the responsible move of retrieving Quinn's bag from the floor, placing it out of hazards way. Large purple vibrator falling from the bag, it bounced across the marble floor, drawing everyone's attention. Blinking at the toy by her feet, the blonde recovered and hastily threw the vibrator back in the bag. Josie chose to pretend nothing had happened. Naturally, Quinn didn't let her.

      "Josie," she started in mock sincerity. The mischievous glimmer in her eyes never disappeared. "If I was embarrassed about it, I would have done a better job of hiding it."

      "Of course," she spluttered. "Sorry, I just—"

      Quinn brushed off her concerns. "Actually, you reminded me of something." Without any offering of an explanation, Quinn seized the nearest napkin and pen and furiously went to work. Every pair of eyes in the room studying her curiously, we waited silently.

      Eventually dropping the pen, she regarded her work with a satisfied smirk. Folding the note, she brought the tissue to her pink painted lips.

      "Oh, maid of honor," she sang, wiggling the note in the air. Meeting her grin in the mirror, I winced.

      "Uh, oh."

      "Relax. I just need you to deliver this with a message."

      I took the note from her manicured fingers. "What's the message?" I asked warily.

      "First you have to agree to bring the whip with it."

      "Quinn—" I tried to protest.

      "It's your duty," she reminded. "Bring her the whip and note with the message that they are a promise of what the night will bring."

      Note limp in my hand, I watched her exasperatedly.

      "It's just Eva," she went on. "Shouldn't be a big deal, considering you've seen her naked."

      She would never let that go. Pressing my hands to my ears, she succeeded in sending me on my way. I headed for her bag of unmentionable things, not needing a reminder of the day I first met her fiancée, at the time girlfriend. Making an impromptu visit to my best friend's apartment, I had had the misfortune of walking in on a freshly showered Eva Jones, parading naked around the living room. It took me weeks to find it in myself to hold her gaze.

       Just a few steps short of the door, Quinn stopped me. "Don't forget the slippers. Wouldn't want you catching a hallway floor bug."

       Slipping on the atrocious duck slippers, with a salute I exited the room. Still in my gown, brown locks littered with curlers and a black strip atop my nose, I made way for Eva's dressing room.

       Knocking on the door, I slipped it just a crack open, no chance of seeing anything I shouldn't. I had developed the habit of taking extra precautions in Eva's case.

      "Everyone decent?" I asked through the crack.

     "No wet naked bodies," Eva promised. "You're good Sarraf."

      With a breath of relief, I entered. "I come here baring an important message from your wife to be," I declared.

       "I figured." Eva was sat on the windowsill, fixing the cuff of her suit.

       "You look amazing," I said honestly. The white pantsuit was tailored perfectly to her curves, black wingtips drawing out the black flower pinned to her chest. With legs for days, she was glowing. Pixie cut platinum blonde hair, spiked to a side, her feminine facial features were complimented with a dash of blush, split wings eyeliner and ombre rose gold eye shadow. If I owned a bridal magazine, this look would have earned her the cover.

      "Yeah?" she inquired, almost shyly. She brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "You think she'll like it?"

      "She'll love it," I promised. "The lace sleeves are a very nice touch."

       "I must commend your outfit as well." Eva grinned. "The nose strip is a fantastic touch."

       "Oh, you know me." I flicked my hair theatrically. "Always the fashionable one. I personally like the robe; it really serves to accentuate my flat ass."

       Walking towards the laughing bride, prepared to complete my task, I nearly fell over when someone spoke behind me.

      "Doesn't look flat from my angle," someone with a deep voice felt the need to inform me. "But I personally think the duck slippers are a great touch."

      Whipping around in mortification, I seemed to have forgotten the unfortunate object I was holding. Whip harshly meeting his face, a very nice face might I add, I thought I might die. Cheeks flaming, I took a startled step backwards.

      "I am so sorry!" I apologized urgently.

       Rubbing the red mark across his dimpled cheek, the man's grin didn't falter. "It's fine," he laughed. "Not a personal preference of mine, but I'm not opposed to its use."

       Blush impossibly deepening, I hid my face in my free hand. "Eva," I begged, holding out the whip. "Take this before I hurt someone else."

      With a chuckle, she gladly disposed of the dangerous toy and obscene note.

      "What was the message?" she prodded.

      With a sigh, I quoted Quinn. "They're a promise of what the night will bring."

      Arching a perfectly brushed brow, Eva grinned at the note. Before she could relay her own message, I made way for the door. "Well, I'll leave you to it. See you in Church." Nearly running into the boy whose face I had assaulted, I side stepped only to have him step in the same direction. Looking at his chest, not daring to meet his eyes, we partook in the awkward dance that I always hated.

      "Sorry again," I told him, finally successfully stepping aside. I was only two feet away from the door, two feet away from making myself scarce.

       "Oh!" Eva yelped suddenly, watching our awkward encounter. Damn. I had been so close to escaping. "I didn't introduce the both of you."

        Swallowing a groan, I forced a smile and turned towards the stranger.

       "Yasmine," she started. "This is my brother Glenn."

       Oh no. I tried to keep my face neutral, but he must have noticed the swelling panic in my eyes. This was not a level of panic and dread that was easily masked. He was the set-up. He was the date/non-date. He was the first trial suitor of the ridiculous agreement I made with my friends. The moment Quinn had announced that she was setting me up with Eva's brother, I knew I was in for trouble.

       "It's nice to meet you, Yasmine," Glenn beamed, perfect set of teeth nearly sparkling under the light.

       Shaking his hand, I mumbled a "nice to meet you too". Watching our reflections in the vanity mirror, I wanted to melt into the wall, perhaps even disappear off the face of the earth. I was a disaster, while he had the audacity to look that good.

       Glenn shared Eva's piercing light blue eyes and sharp jawline. I really ought to have made the connection the moment I laid eyes on him. His skin was a tone darker than his sister's, and flawless with the exception of a small blemish atop his cheek bone. His suit was as perfectly tailored as his sister, not a wrinkle or misplaced strand of hair in sight... And here I stood in my duck slippers and hair curlers.

      Rubbing the sweaty palm that had just shaken his, on my thighs, I took a few clumsy steps towards the door.

      "Well," I fumbled awkwardly with the door handle, voice uncharacteristically high. "I better get back to my maid of honor duties... See you guys later."

       Barely managing to make an exit without tripping, in the hall, I took a moment to compose myself. And by composing myself, I mean nearly ripping the curler's out of the nest on my head and cursing under my breath. As composed as was in my capability, I smoothed the wrinkles on my robe and with a deep breath marched back to Quinn's dressing room.

       "You're awful," I told her, the moment I returned. I had no doubt that she had done this by purpose.

       She grinned ruthlessly. "Are you going to help me into my dress?"

       "Of course." There was no hesitation, evil scheming forgotten. Bright and excited eyes washing over me, I returned her smile.

        Spitting ruffles, I successfully guided Quinn into her five inches black heels. The heels were an enormous contrast to her seemingly innocent choice of wedding gown. True to her pixie wishes, the dress flowed wide, fluffy skirt taking great space. There was glitter everywhere, from her flowery crown to her face, to the ruffles. The light purple ruffles were just a few shades lighter than our bridesmaids' dresses, the same shade as her hair. Purple locks tied into space buns, and littered with sparkles and flowers, she truly could not have looked better. The look was very Quinn: considerably unique.

        When we exited the limo, we we're told that everyone was ready, Eva waiting down the aisle with her bridesmaids. Lining up in preparation, we stood outside the large wooden chapel doors, waiting for the note that marked the ring bearer's cue.

      "You ready?" I faced my favourite bride.

      "Absolutely." Quinn may as well have been bouncing on her feet, her excitement comparable to the flower girl's reaction to the sucker I had offered.

       "No cold feet?" I teased. I knew very well she'd been waiting years for this.

      "Hell no. This is my moment to shine."

      And shine she did.

       Slow tempo beginning, Quinn's niece and nephew on their way, I gave her one last hug, before leading her towards her father. I was glad her feet were far from cold; glad her feet were so warm that she was practically prepared to sprint down the aisle. But finding my spot beside Glenn, I wished my feet shared a tenth of her warmth. Quinn had refused wedding rehearsals; she wanted everyone's walk down the aisle to be their first. Now that I knew I was to be walking arm in arm with Glenn, I suspected she did so, to prevent any protest. What better way to start a date than walking down a church aisle? Definitely not striking them in the face with a sex toy.

       Taking my arm in his, Glenn shot me his most dashing smile. The lingering red mark on his cheek, only made me queasier.

      "You look beautiful," he told me.

       Despite the overwhelming urge to hurl and the dreadful suspicion that I was taking the first steps towards an awful night, an awful date, I shot him my most promising smile of gratitude. This was the happiest day of my best friend's life. I was thrilled for her. I wouldn't let my horrible dating skills ruin that. So, arm in arm, Glenn and I walked down the aisle.