Harry's Protégé Ch. 08

It turned out as one of those disaster weddings.

The groom was half drunk and playing up, the bride was in tears as becoming pregnant out of wedlock had shamed her mother and her mother showed shame and tears as the university chaplain signaled to the keyboard player and drummer to begin the 'Wedding March'.

The bride tripped going up the steps to the so-called 'speakers soapbox' under the huge oak in the quadrant of the university, after stepping on her unfashionably long 'hippie' type dress (Harry's description) and ripping it.

He leaped forward and caught her to prevent her head hitting the lower steps.

He had a fill-in partner as bridesmaid as the original choice was in labor and the matron-of-honor - the bride's older sister - failed to show up until the service was over.

But there was another shock for Harry.

When he turned he saw the very late arriving matron of honor was Prudence White. She winked at him and lifted her single gold strand necklace.

Harry couldn't recall attending a more memorable wedding because there is a tendency to forget the ones that run without incident.

Tables and chairs were set around the quadrant for the wedding breakfast.

Immediately after the wedding service Pru rushed up to Harry, kissing him demurely and the reason for that became obvious; she introduced Harry as "an old friend" to her straight-backed and bored-faced husband who'd been standing right beside her.

"It's lovely to see you after all these years and that's a fine looking necklace," Harry said.

"I think we were fifteen when last we met," Pru lied. "The necklace came from a favored client."

"How do you favor a client?" Harry asked dangerously, and they both noticed the bored face on the husband had disappeared and he was now listening.

Pru turned pink and Harry could see she was struggling with the answer.

"I guess your client was an old girlfriend with whom you had an experimental but nonetheless satisfying lesbian trial when you were both eighteen," Harry offered, thinking this whole thing was turning into a farce so why not make his contribution.

"Something like that," Pru said weakly, which was surprising since she was legal mouthpiece in court for the rich and famous in that city.

"Experimental?" asked the husband, whom Harry thought had been introduced as Charles.

"Probably an experiment yet to be concluded," Harry suggested.

"No, no - the donor is the mother of an old friend who I represent often as she is rarely able to drive soberly," Pru said, looking greatly relieved until Harry came through with another contribution.

"Ah, if the daughter is a lesbian I suppose her mother is the dominatrix you were experimenting with?"

Pru finally came out of free-fall.

"Harry, shut up. He's such a tease Chester."

"So I gather," Chester-not-Charles said, not very convincingly. "What is your career, Harold?"

Harry, unexpectedly becoming Harold, said he was in journalism.

"Ah, one of those troublemakers," replied the senior Government official loftily.

Harry was about to spread those yellow teeth with his fist.

"No Harry," cried Pru, "He has a dark humor."

"My God, so I'm accused of having a dark humor now by you, a glib defense attorney."

"I'll be pushing off," said Harold/Harry, not wishing to be in the middle of the domestic.

"No I'm bored shitless here," snapped the mean-minded official sounding like a street corner male prostitute on a slow night, "I'm off to the club. Get yourself home Pru and Harold, don't bother trying to get her into pants because she's next to useless."

"No!" yelled Pru, managing to divert Harry's fist from landing behind the ear of her departing husband.

"Oh my gawd, Harry," Pru said, slumping on to a chair. 'Fetch me a glass of bubbly - I'm stuffed after that. For God's sake Harry, promise not to talk to my parents about me - promise?"

"Yeah, I promise," he said, moving off to the bar thinking his second book would be about disastrous weddings.

He returned with two bottles - one each - as there was no bridal party table, the bride wanting 'a democratic wedding', whatever that meant. Harry assumed it was a cute way of saying 'disorganized'.

"Oh, bubbly," Pru giggled, and as they settled into sipping their first glass she opened their conversation encouragingly. "Tell me about your sex life."

Two hours later Harry and Pru entered a hotel on the far side of the city center. The alcohol in Harry convinced him Pru was out to bang him but she'd not sway him from remaining loyal to Sierra.

Pru told him to relax and she came right out with it.

"Harry there's nothing but an expression of interest between yourself and Sierra; therefore you are free to give me what I want."

"Oh yeah well in my mind it appears I have a solid commitment to Sierra."

Pru who appeared to be attempting to unbundle that relationship said legally in business it was possible to have an enforceable verbal contract under contract law but in her opinion 'an expression of interest' that Harry had explained he had with Sierra in respect of fidelity within a casual sexual liaison it meant virtually nothing technically was binding unless there was proof it existed in substance but such wording was 'hollow' - it could mean anything.

"It means absolutely nothing," Pru repeated, ending that loosely framed alcohol-fueled opinion and apparently attempting to befuddle Harry.

Harry saw the tip of her tongue was hanging out of the corner of her mouth and the hand of her arm across her breasts was playing with a nipple. He wondered if she had a clue about what she was saying but then she scored when asking, "Have you promised to marry her."

"No."

"Well then you are absolutely a free agent and that means you may entertain carnal thoughts about my body and even touch it if you wish. I appear to have no objection."

"You're pissed."

"That sounds like a vulgar expression and is perhaps foreign in origin. You may have picked it up trolling through those pussy sites on the internet that hook men by making their eyeballs practically hang out."

"Ah I suppose your time is wasted looking at Internet sites where women lick pussy?"

"Oooh you appear to have an intimate knowledge about women that I wasn't aware you possessed?"

They entered the hotel room and with the door locked and night security attachment engaged, they faced each other.

Most unexpectedly, Pru's confidence dipped.

"I've put on weight and my boobs have drooped a bit since we last did it."

"Since we last did what?"

She looked at his tented pants at groin level and licked her top lip

Harry looked down and laughed, "God where did that come from? A little bit of flab is okay with me and I reckon I'll like your tits if they have really flopped."

"Breasts."

"Tits if they're floppy."

"Fair enough. You look lean enough to eat."

"Why don't you try?"

"I will, but undress me first."

"Nah I'll stretch out on the bed and watch you sex me up undressing provocatively.

"Oh Sebbi," she cried, hand diving between her legs.

"That's it baby, finger it and get the juices going. Make it lovely and slippery for me. Remember - when it's slippery I last longer, you scream longer."

"Oh Harry - I'm about to burst ," she wailed.

"Get those clothes off darling, and waggle those floppies and I'll probably have a premature ejaculation as well. Aren't we good together?"

Harry realized he needed a big tease because they'd had a lot to drink and alcohol tended to anesthetize My Best Friend somewhat. It's hard to deliver a virtuoso performance when the first violinist was lagging.

Pru, far from sober, delivered a star performance, after a hilarious start. First she attempted to remove her panties, toppling on to the carpet.

"It's those drooping tits - you're become top-heavy," he chuckled, as the foul-mouthing Pru regained her footing.

The second attempt was successful and she threw her panties at Harry but missed him by a couple of yards. He recovered them and draped them around his nose, which pleased her but she wanted more.

"Let me watch you sniffing them properly!"

He obliged.

She left on her thigh-hi stockings, presumable to give the impression of better leg shape.

Harry unzipped and massaged himself to maximum length while watching Pru's fingers fumble with zip and buttons as she removed her longish skirt and frilly shirt with shoulder pads.

She attempted a minor strip when it came to undoing the bra and she leapt on to the bed and sat straight on him, achieving almost immediate connection and began lifting up and down.

Harry sat up and attempting to snare one of the nipples swinging from side to side as she hit full pumping rhythm.

The next day was a drunkfest with the bride and groom at her parents' horse stud. They had pompously called it on the invitations, 'A Post-Wedding Soiree in the Country'.

It was a roaring success or chaos, depending how one looked at it. The function started at 10:00 with cocktails and many women were drunk before lunch was served and some men unable to hold their liquor were behaving badly. A soiree it was not. Fortunately no uninvited neighbors were near enough to complain about the noise and mayhem with some extremely obscene behavior going on with those guest who simply wishing to drink and talk obtaining a good impression of how the other half sometimes lived.

Chester and the immaculately behaving Pru kindly drove Harry to the airport to catch his 4 o'clock flight, Pru prudently shook Harry's hand virtuously as they parted, watched by her obviously disbelieving husband who hadn't see her for eighteen hours until she arrived for the drunkfest with Harry.

Typical of many men who recklessly scatter their semen with little thought of the consequences, Harry spent the flight and cab ride home to his apartment in deep remorse.

He decided he'd made a huge mistake engaging in sex with Pru at the same time he was attempting to set up the seduction of Sierra.

That lapse was morally wrong. Guilt wracked him as he reached that conclusion, conceding that he was ethically barren for not attempting to reach that conclusion before plugging Pru several times during their over-night personal fuckfest.

"I would be a much happier man with my dick cut off," he yelled skywards on his balcony.

"If it weren't for my recent operation you could bring that unwanted dick over here and make me a happy woman," called his divorcee neighbor from her balcony to his left.

"I have something here that could be a hangar for an unwanted dick," called one of the three airline flight attendants on the balcony above Harry's apartment.

"If your dick is looking for a home I could accommodated it," came a voice from afar.

Harry retreated into his apartment mortified, deeply ashamed.

After a deep sleep Harry jumped out of bed a new man, his recent past buried.

Dressing, he gulped some orange juice and hurried to the sidewalk, hoping Sierra would be there. She was and doing stretches with Jenni. They both kissed him with restraint as if knowing Harry had been double-crossing them, Harry not having a clue whether women had the ability to sense such things.

They set off, he setting the slightly faster pace than usual. They chatted amicably until the fast pace began to tell. Around the five-mile mark Jenni called, "You guys go for it; I'm cutting back a little."

Harry knew that no way was Sierra going to do him; he'd rather die than let a female beat him over six miles unless she were an Olympian.

The Old Immigration Wharf Restaurant came into view: Harry knew that was 460 yards away because he'd measured the route and noting landmarks. He floored it.

Sierra dug deeply but fell behind and displaying a drained state when she finished, well behind, satisfying Harry she'd given it everything and failed. She began cramping, so he flipped her on her front on an outdoor table and worked on her right calf.

"Why do we do this?" she groaned, and he made her laugh painfully when borrowing a famous mountaineer's retort, "Because it's there."

They were out of the bathroom when Jenni arrived and yelled, "Hi, sorry I'm late; I cramped up. You guys are out of my class."

Sierra was not having that, saying, "He had to do the Big Boy thing today; tomorrow he'll adjust to the slowest runner's pace, having proven to his ego he's top dog when running with ladies."

Harry couldn't dispute that. One is foolish to dispute the truth.

Inside the restaurant Sierra called her mother and the bulletin on Duncan was good - "Making steady progress."

Sierra had said where she was and with whom, so Margo asked to speak to Harry

"Hi Harry, how did the wedding go?"

"An organizer's worst nightmare, but the knot was tied and the catering lasted out the guests Margo and therefore I reckon one could say it was a successful wedding."

Harry saw Sierra's eyebrow's raise at the use of her mother's first name Margo.

"Harry listen," said Margo. "Duncan and I and Sierra were going to Turkey for two weeks for the summer break but the surgeon has suggested two quiet weeks somewhere quiet and relaxing, so Duncan and I have decided on Maui in the Hawaiian Islands and I'm inviting you to join us as our guest and we'll pay for your holiday. What do you say?"

"Wow, that's an amazing offer Margo. But I'll put you back to Sierra in case that's a problem with her; I'll accept whatever decision she makes."

Sierra frowned. "Why consult me? If mother has made you an offer about something, it's your decision?"

"Not when it's a family holiday. Please talk to her."

Sierra listened without comment until ending the call, saying, "Book him to come with us mommy."

Their breakfast orders arrived and Sierra mused: "Two weeks on Maui with you Harry; I wonder how we'll be occupy our time?"

Jenni appeared to have a suggestion, but closed her mouth, presumably decided to act like a lady.

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