The Sweet Water of the Fountain

************

They arrived at the little town and found the church earlier than they had to. It all proved to Avery that he had been right about stopping at Lost Lake for an early lunch. He had to be careful not to cop an attitude. That would only mean trouble later and it was pointless to embarrass Jolene in front of her family.

"Well, maybe I do have a little bit of an attitude," he admitted as he stood to one side as Jolene hugged one of her cousins.

He would hide it. No one, not even Jolene need know. It was one thing that was all his, for better or worse.

"Do you think we ought to go in and find a seat?" he asked.

Jolene swiveled her head around to him, away from the group of women with whom she was gossiping and giggling.

"I suppose so," she answered.

Jolene and her cousins broke up their conclave and dispersed to find their spouses. Avery met up with Jolene and they started up the church steps. She took his hand, and that surprised Avery. He wondered if it was for appearances in front of her clan. That wasn't really something that Jolene would have been prone to do.

He remembered where they were. Weddings had a peculiar effect on women that he didn't quite understand. He was well aware of it, however, and he let her take his hand up the steps until she gave it up when the usher took her by the arm and escorted her to their pew, Avery following behind.

"Avery, take the seat on the aisle so you can take some photos," Jolene called back to him as the usher stopped at an empty row.

She slipped sideways into the pew first, Avery falling in step behind her. He was used to the duty. He had been the designated shutterbug at every family wedding that he could remember—except their own, of course. The entire clan assumed that since he was an engineer by trade that it was up to him to operate anything that had a switch, lever, a gear or a shutter. Jolene had convinced them, so it appeared to him.

'What's-his-name' was an engineer, too. So, it occurred to Avery that in the future the young groom might supplant him in his unofficial position.

"You'll need a few more inches around your middle and a lot less hair if you want my job," Avery sneered in silence.

Avery had long admitted to himself that he enjoyed his little extra task at Jolene's family gatherings. It gave him a purpose and a reason to be busy. It was a good excuse to buy an extra toy once or twice a year. He'd become good at it.

It was a bright, pleasant day outdoors. The front door of the church was left open to allow fresh air inside, so it was much brighter to look backwards toward the outside than forward toward the sanctuary. All the guests were seated, so Avery knew that the ceremony was about to start.

Just as he was thinking that the organist punched out a few chords. The assembled witnesses stood. Avery stood, too. He turned his face to the brightness in the back of the church as the procession of bridesmaids appeared in the center aisle and made their way up the aisle.

Finally it was the bride's turn, in her long, white, satin gown and lacey veil to fill the light. The sun streaming through the open door made a halo around her. She paused for a few seconds in the light, frozen in place. At last, the organ music pushed her forward. Her long, white gown gave her the appearance of a floating cloud.

Avery checked his camera to be sure it was armed and ready. He began to calculate the optimum distance to begin shooting the pictures. That back-lighting was going to be a problem. He gave himself credit for seeing that right away.

"Just let Mr. 'What's-his-name' try to tackle that problem."

He'd talk shop with him later.

Avery gazed into the light, and then at the bride, trying to finish his calculations. The sun shone through the lace of the veil. It outlined the bride's face and form in the satin gown. Avery noticed how smooth and tight the gown was fitted to her. The shininess of the satin enhanced the sleek lines of her body.

He saw her hipbone silhouette as she pushed a thigh against the fabric of the gown when she floated forward. First was the right side. She brought her feet together and then stepped with the left and the other side revealed itself to him in its turn. With each step his mind was able to define the shape better.

It made a triangular frame for the center of her. Avery imagined what was within that frame. It was too good for 'What's-his-name' waiting for her at the altar. Avery took a deep breath. He thought he sensed a curious incense scent in the air.

He paid no attention to the attendants as they passed. They were all cute and youthful, inconsequential to Avery's sensibility. The bride drew closer. He noticed the bodice of her gown. It was cut, perhaps, a bit too low. The breasts spilled over the top of it.

They were neither large nor petite. They were fine and white, like the gown. Avery imagined how perfectly round and pure they were—perfection in waiting. If it was he for whom they were waiting, he would know how to treat them.

Avery looked hard at the cups underneath, trying to detect a hardened nipple winking at him. There was none, but Avery was not disappointed. He looked harder at the cups and made himself see the nipples resting within them. They would be pink with rose-colored areolas patiently awaiting the grasp of his lips, the lave of his tongue. Others would see the cleavage as a display of that promised to the groom. Avery knew the real message it was sending to him..

The bride approached closer. Avery clicked off three quick photos. The bride kept moving. She looked straight ahead, neither blinking at the flash nor acknowledging Avery as she passed by. There was, however, a look on her face that Avery knew. It was common to all women when they knew they were the star, perfect, the desired one. It was a satisfied look, as Avery knew. It was being desired that created the satisfaction, rather than the reality of quenching it. All these things he had learned through the years.

She passed by them and he watched her, hoping that the sculpted buttocks outlined themselves against the gown as had the graceful lines of her hipbones. He was not disappointed. As the young woman in white moved by Avery glanced at Jolene standing next to him. He wondered if she suspected what flights had flown through his fancy. She didn't seem to and, really, how could she?

*******************

After the ceremony and the reception line on the front steps of the church, the wedding party retreated back to the sanctuary for signing the marriage documents and the photographs at the altar. Outside the guests milled about wondering what to do. The reception was scheduled to begin in another ninety minutes.

Avery was exchanging small talk with Jolene's brother-in-law, Bert, and showing him his camera.

"I wonder if the bar's open at the reception place," he wondered out loud.

The women swiveled their heads at the men with a disapproving look.

"Let's go check into the motel," Jolene said. "There's just enough time for that and to freshen up in our rooms. The reception hall is right next door, so I'm told."

So, it was decided that they would attend to details first. It didn't really matter to Avery that much. Jolene's brother-in-law was kind of a drag. There wasn't much left to discuss after the workings of the camera were dissected in the church courtyard. The motel was a mile or so away from the church.

"Did you get some good pictures of the bride?" Jolene asked after Avery started the car.

"I think so. Nice looking girl," Avery answered.

There was a short silence. Avery glanced at Jolene, afraid he had said something he should not have said. She had an expression on her face, halfway between a smile and a smirk.

"Her gown was a little tight, wouldn't you say?" she asked.

"I didn't notice," Avery said. "I was too busy focusing the camera."

"I doubt that!" Jolene retorted. "I wouldn't be surprised if those hips made you forget to focus the camera. You're always on the lookout."

He wouldn't deny it. Well, he did focus the damned camera. The main point was that he'd helped himself to an eyeful more than his fair share. She knew it, just like always. How did she always know?

"How would you know?" he shot back at her.

She started laughing.

"How indeed!" She patted his thigh. "It's alright, as long as you look and don't touch."

He fell silent; he was defeated. First she'd invaded his private thoughts and then taunted him with her ill-gotten knowledge. His only refuge was silence. It was his comment about the bride's nice looks that opened him up in the first place.

They passed the place for the wedding reception on their way to the motel. It was on the adjoining property, as a matter of fact. Jolene's sister and her husband were already inside. They spotted their car in front of the door.

Jolene's brother-in-law was at the desk signing in.

"Hey, do you want to get adjoining rooms?" Bert asked.

"Jeez, I don't know," Avery replied. "I hadn't thought about it."

Avery didn't really want to. He had an idea why Bert had suggested it. Jolene was a few years younger than her sister and he'd figured for a long time that Bert had some kind of wild fantasy. Bert had always been crazy in that sneaky kind of way, and Avery realized that Bert's big idea was a no-go from the start. Any post-reception get-together would undoubtedly devolve into a cheese-and-crackers pajama party between the sisters while he and Bert sipped soft drinks from the machine down the hall. Avery knew. He saw Jolene stow the crackers as they packed the car.

"If you want to do that, we'll have to change your room," the flustered clerk spoke up. "All of our adjoining rooms are on the first floor."

"Saved!" Avery exhaled silently.

"Oh no," Avery interjected right away. "The first floor's too noisy. We need a good night's sleep—long drive tomorrow. Let's just keep what we've got."

The clerk nodded, and completed the check-in. He appeared relieved, as well. Bert's face took on a sulky expression.

"You don't mind, do you, Bert?" Avery asked. "We'll sit together at the reception and get caught up there."

The two rooms ended up being on the same hallway—on the second floor—about a half-dozen doors away.

"You were thinking fast to put an end to Bert's adjoining rooms idea," Jolene said when they were alone in their room.

Avery was unsure if Jolene was glad or sad at what he'd done. He reckoned that caution was the best strategy.

"I'm sorry, Jolene," he pleaded. "It's just that we'll be tired by the time the reception's over. Like I said..."

"It's okay, Avery," Jolene interrupted. "It took me by surprise, too. I was never for it."

"Oh, well—good, then," he stammered.

He had to admit that Jolene's agreement surprised him.

"Sometimes Bert gets kooky ideas in his head," Jolene interrupted Avery's thoughts. She was arranging her things in the bathroom as she spoke. "What do you suppose he was up to?"

Avery calculated that in exchange for her agreeing with him Jolene deserved an honest answer.

"Well, if you want to know the truth," he began. "The fact is..."

He stopped speaking. He didn't know how to put what he knew into words.

"What?" Jolene demanded, appearing at the bathroom door with hands on hips.

"Well, in my opinion..."

It was too late. He'd started down the road. He had obliged himself to finish telling her. This was sure to be trouble.

"I think he..." He was still having trouble saying it. "He was hoping to see what you look like in your nightgown," he blurted out, and added, "if you know what I mean."

There! He did it—delicately stated, but truthful nonetheless. The last part was to acknowledge his euphemism.

"You're joking!"

"No, Jolene, that's what I think," Avery answered.

Jolene thought for a minute. A smile spread over her face. Avery wondered if, perhaps, she wanted to show Bert what he wanted to see. More likely, she was taking pleasure in the knowledge she had just gained—that he wanted to see her, and do who-knows-what-else.

"And wouldn't you like to see Clara the same way?" Jolene demanded, jarring Avery to attention.

It was going too far. Avery feared what might happen if he lost control of things.

"I figure I already know, more-or-less," he said. "You're sisters, aren't you?"

Jolene cocked her head.

"Anyway, it's getting late," Avery reminded her. "We should get going."

They didn't bother to stop and collect Clara and Bert. They would meet them at the reception hall.

"Let's walk," Jolene said. "The weather's nice and it's right next door. Then we won't have to bother with parking."

Avery looked at the sky. Not much was happening. The late afternoon heat promised to turn into a balmy night.

"Sure, why not," he said, and they were on their way.

******************

Avery knew the routine at Jolene's family weddings. First, was a cocktail hour, or so, at the bar, followed by a buffet dinner. The family had a lot of nieces and nephews, so there were many chances to practice the routine. This one was going off without a hitch.

Jolene wanted a Whisky Sour before dinner. Avery wondered why as he ordered it for her. It was a change. She usually nursed a white wine. Avery had a Scotch, as always. He looked around for Bert and Clara and finally spotted them at the other side of the room. He glanced at Jolene out of the corner of his eye to see if she was looking for them, too. She seemed to be wrapped up talking to one of her cousins.

He would have been surprised if Jolene had really been interested in Bert's surprise proposal. But, who could know? Jolene had become so unpredictable in recent years and Avery sensed for a long time that she was under-satisfied by him in bed, no matter how hard he tried.

He should have been angry at Bert for his crude attempt to gain permission for a round with Jolene. He was angry, but hardly in a way that would make the veins in his neck swell and his face turn crimson with rage. Maybe he should have said 'yes'—that would have served him right. Certainly he had no mind to accost Bert and set him straight. Probably, Bert endured some of the same frustrations with Clara as he suffered with Jolene, Avery reasoned. His anger calmed and turned into an irritation.

Avery figured that every man comes to a point in life when he senses the need to assert himself one final time—to prove potency and knowledge, and above all, the nerve to put those qualities to use. Avery—like most guys, stifled those feelings when they made themselves unwelcome guests. He kept them inside as inner thoughts. Perhaps Bert was having a hard time doing so.

There was no one close-by with whom Avery was interested in chatting, so he had time to ponder all these things. At long-last the guests began to move to the dinner tables.

"I'll find our place. You can get me another one of these," Jolene whispered to him, and pressed her empty cocktail glass into his hand.

"Are you sure?" he whispered back. "I think they'll probably serve champagne at the table."

"If you want, you can find our place cards and I can go to the bar," she answered.

Avery couldn't have that—his own wife bellying up to the open bar—so he turned without a word to fetch the drink. He still had plenty of his own scotch left, and he judged that to be a good thing.

He tipped the barman and turned to see that Jolene was sitting at a large, round table on the other side of the room. Bert and Clara were assigned to the same table, but on the opposite side. That suited Avery. He could keep an eye on Bert and see if he still had Jolene on his mind. Speaking of Jolene, she was sitting next to him, so he could keep his eye her, too, while she finished her second Whisky Sour.

Avery set Jolene's drink in front of her and took his seat. She was nibbling on a dinner roll.

"They're going to call our table to the buffet soon," she said.

He looked across the table to check on Bert. It was no use. The centerpiece hid him and Clara from view. Jolene began sipping on her fresh cocktail. It occurred to Avery that everyone was having a good time—except him. He always considered these family affairs more work than pleasure.

He sat through the dinner and all the toasts. It came and went, and he paid attention to very little of what went on. He didn't even remember what he ate for dinner. There was always a roast beef selection at these kinds of buffets. Avery always selected roast beef whenever he had the chance, so he must have eaten roast beef. He'd be damned if he could remember it.

Of course, there was champagne. The waiters filled all the glasses and left the remainders of the bottles on the tables. They drank it when the best man made a toast, and when the groom made a toast back, when the Father of the Bride made a toast and the Father of the Groom made one back to him. By that time the champagne bottles were empty, so the toasts were over.. (Avery judged the groom's toast a good one, by engineering standards.)

There wasn't an actual band, but one of those DJ people who played selections through the stereo system. Before Avery knew it the bride was throwing her bouquet over her shoulder and behind her. Avery watched the eager bridesmaids, all standing in a row, hoping to catch it.

They were excited and the rising blood in their cheeks made them glow. They wore sleeveless summer gowns of pink, shiny fabric with low, draping necklines, something like Roman maidens of ancient times. To Avery's eye, a few of them looked like Jolene did when she was young.

After the tossing of the bouquet all the maidens formed a circle around the fortunate one who had the bouquet land in her hands. They began a ritual of squealing and giggling and hugging one another. They abandoned all reticence as bare arms and chiffon-draped breasts pressed together. Avery watched the dance and he thought he could feel the warm skin soothe away the chill of the air-conditioning in the banquet room.

Few took notice of what was being prepared only a few steps away. Avery was, perhaps, the only observer who turned his attention to the simple chair. It was placed in the center of the dance floor like an altar. As the spectacle nearby faded the bride, as sacrifice, took her place on the chair. She blushed red and stifled an expression that might have been of eagerness or perhaps shyness. Perhaps she was thinking about what was to be sacrificed.

The bride prepared herself by crossing her legs and lifting her long gown above her ankle. The white hose, encasing the delicate bones, excited the groomsmen who took their places in a semicircle around the makeshift altar. They weren't satisfied.

"More, more!" they cried.

They had been drinking.

Avery had drunk much less, but was thankful for their demand, for he wished to see more, as well.

The groom, as high priest, approached and knelt before the sacrifice. Whether to claim his prize, to inspect it, or to satisfy the demands of those gathered, he raised the hem of the gown over the bride's knee. The assembly cheered and Avery sucked in a breath. The legs were lean and inviting. The groom placed his hands around her calf. Avery looked down at his own hands and could not believe they were still attached to his wrists, for in his mind they were circling the dainty leg, leading the younger man by example, taking a free sample as payment for his lessons.

The groom glanced in victory to his mates and they cheered once again. The DJ started playing some vulgar song that Avery barely noticed. The groom returned his attention back to his bride and ventured his hand just under the hem of the gown.

"I wonder if she's a virgin," Avery muttered to himself.

He doubted that she was, but in not knowing for certain there was hope. He watched the groom begin the slow ascendance of eager hands on the nubile thigh. He thought he saw the bride's expression change, from coy maiden to desiring woman. She seemed to lose awareness of the half-drunken throng witnessing the ritual. Avery was sure she was imagining things.