Wedding Reception Help

It had been a beautiful ceremony. My niece, Christine, looked like an angel as she walked down the aisle. My wife would have simply loved to be here. We'd always had a soft spot for Christine and knew that she'd make a beautiful bride. Unfortunately, her wedding was about nine months too late for my wife.

I sat at the table under the huge tent top, nursing a beer and a small cup of peanut M&Ms. I couldn't NOT come, but part of me didn't want to be here. It was the first time in forty years that I'd come to a wedding alone. Usually we came to these together, both of us enjoying the opportunity to dance with each other at the reception. Not that we were great dancers, but these were one of the few opportunities we had to dance with each other, and we did so enjoy the slow dances.

Everyone was being nice, those that hadn't made the funeral made the usual obligatory well wishes, but the reality is that I felt and probably looked like someone's dog that had been kicked one too many times. I felt about as low as was possible. My sister and her husband tried sitting with me, but I told them they didn't have to hover over me, and they finally moved off to socialize, something I just didn't feel like doing. I guess losing your partner in life after so many years will do that to you.

Oh, I'd made all the usual promises to Shelly on her death bed. I wouldn't curl up and let life run by. I'd find someone and find a way to move on. I wouldn't let myself waste away. You know the promises a wife will make you make because she knows you all too well and knows that is exactly what you'll do. She'd made her best friend promise to make me date again. Yeah, like that's going to happen any time soon! At sixty, I'm way too damn old to start over.

Do I miss companionship? Yeah. But it's that of a certain person I want, and I know I'll never have again, so why bother? That was what was occupying my mind as I sat alone, nursing the same beer for at least half an hour. I'd thought about leaving and going back to the little motel I'd managed to find a room at, but I really did want to stay at least long enough to see Christine do all those bride things, not to mention she'd lined up a special song for me to dance with her after the obligatory dances were done. I didn't want to let her down.

"Mind if I join you?" I heard a soft feminine voice ask me from behind.

"Um. Sure," I answered a bit awkwardly, my brain taking a few moments to shift gears and drag itself out of the pit it was slowly digging.

"Thank you," the young woman said as she pulled out the chair to my left. "I think you found the perfect spot."

"The perfect spot?" I asked as I let my eyes travel quickly up and down the curvy figure encased in the simple yellow sundress. I'd guess she was late thirties or so, slender, but not super model skinny, nicely filled out chest, strong athletic looking legs that looked quite attractive as she slipped easily into the plastic folding chair next to mine. Her skin was the color of heavily creamed coffee, showing some family history of maybe African American or other similar dark skinned race. Her hair was deep brown, almost black, with a little bit of bouncy wave and soft looking. Her face was extremely attractive with full red lips, a short perky nose and extremely attractive green eyes.

"The fan?" she said questioningly, making me realize that she'd had to repeat herself.

"Oh yeah. The fan," I blurted out, twisting my head to look at the huge four foot diameter fan that was blowing air into the open sided tent.

"It could have been a little cooler," she said, waving her hands to move some air across her obviously sweaty face and chest. "I know it's only eighty, but it feels a lot hotter in the sun."

"Yeah. It does that," I agreed, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the handkerchief I always carried. I held it out for her. She looked at it, then at my face, and thanked me with a smile as she reached out and took it from me. She used the soft cotton material to dab the sweat on her forehead and down her face before using it to wipe away the sweat on her neck and finally her chest and cleavage. She looked over at me again, almost as if pausing to think, and then down at herself again. She unbuttoned the two top buttons of her dress and used the white handkerchief to dry down between her breasts as far as the edges of the white lace bra would allow, showing me even more of her easily C or D cup breasts. I was never really good at guessing cup size, but then I didn't have to. It was either "small", "nice" or "big" in my book. I enjoyed big. Sandy had been a triple D. Not when we married of course. She was only a C cup then, but nursing three kids had really made them fill out and it was something I always enjoyed. The young woman next to me was somewhere between nice and big. It took me several seconds before I realized I was staring at her tits, and embarrassingly jerked my eyes back up to her face.

"Thank you," she said softly, setting the handkerchief on the table next to my hand before reaching back to her dress and closing the top two buttons again. "That was nice of you."

"You're welcome," I answered, trying hard to return her smile, but just pasting it on without feeling it inside.

"So? You here alone?"

"Um. Yeah. Fraid so."

"Me too. Your wife couldn't make it?"

I felt the pasted on smile disappear and the look of kicked dog return all too quickly. "No. She's wasn't able to make it."

I looked back up at her just in time to see her eyes search mine for a moment. "You're William?" she asked softly.

"Yeah. Do I know you?"

"Oh. No. I just heard some people talking and all of a sudden... well... I'm sorry. I don't mean to intrude."

"It's okay," I answered, even though it really wasn't. But I knew that if Shelly were here, she'd be pissed if I was rude to her.

She suddenly twisted in her chair to face a bit more in my direction and held out her hand. "I'm Charlotte, but my friends all call me Charlie."

"Charlie?" I asked curiously as I tentatively took her soft delicate hand.

"Yeah. When I was younger I loved the movie Top Gun. And since my name was the same as the woman Maverick fell in love with, my friends started calling me Charlie and it stuck."

I chuckled, the first time in months that humor actually managed to penetrate the darkness shrouding me. "It was a good movie."

"Still is. Classic now though, which of course makes me feel old."

I couldn't help but chuckle again. "Not hardly. Me? I'm old. You're way too young and good looking to consider yourself old," I said, instantly regretting the comment. "I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"Sorry for what? You should never apologize for complimenting a woman," she said with a soft smile. "But just for the record, how young do you think I am?"

"I'm afraid I'm not too good at guessing age," I said, not wanting to insult her if I guessed wrong.

"No? Well, thank you for the compliment anyway, but I'm most definitely NOT young, at least not in my book," she said without the smile leaving her lips. "So? Drinking beer?"

"Oh. Yeah," I said, pushing the half empty cup of warm liquid. "Sort of."

"Looks like it's gotten warm."

"Pretty much."

"Well, if you promise to watch my handbag, I'll bring you a fresh one. If you don't mind, that is," she said as she stood up.

"Uh. No. That's fine. Thanks," I answered clumsily, my focus suddenly on her long slender legs instead of what she was asking. I watched her walk down the aisle between tables, her tall high heels trying to sink into the grass, making her walk more on the balls of her feet. The yellow dress only came to the middle of her thighs, and I swore I could just make out the shape of a very skimpy bikini style panty through the thin material.

I sat, waiting, surprising myself that I was actually somewhat anxious to have her come back. I frowned at myself at the thought. What was I thinking? No. When she came back I'd just have to excuse myself. What would Sandy have thought, me sitting here chatting up a woman half my age? Grow up William!

I saw her coming back, a cup of beer in each hand, again, walking on the balls of her feet to keep her high heels from sinking into the soft grass. The setting sun shown under the edge of the tent roof, shining across her body from her chest down, making the yellow dress look like it was practically glowing on her. It hugged her frame, flowing smoothly down from her slightly bouncing breasts, over her slender waist, to her curvy hips and down her muscular thighs. Her long legs were well proportioned and looked very sexy in the light colored stockings that I hadn't quite noticed before. The light shown on her dress just right so that I could see the outline of the white lace bra through the top of the dress and a very sexy cut bikini, almost thong sized panty below. I was still staring, probably openmouthed, as she approached and set the two beers on the table.

"Thank you for watching my handbag," she said as she twisted the chair out from the table and closer to me. She sat down, facing me, crossing one leg over the other, making the short skirt pull up slightly further. I could see the lacy top of her right stocking peeking from under the hem of the skirt as her knee almost touched my left thigh. She reached towards the beer she'd set down on the table, and picked the cup up, taking a long swallow before setting it back down. "Penny for your thoughts?" she asked sweetly.

"Huh?"

"You were staring. I'd like to think at me, but..."

"Oh God. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare," I quickly said apologetically, blushing slightly at the realization that I'd been caught looking where I probably shouldn't.

"Don't be sorry. Like I said, a woman my age... It's nice to be stared at."

"I didn't mean to. I mean."

She leaned towards me and rested her hand on my bare forearm. "It's okay," she said softly, almost soothingly. "I understand. I've seen it so many times. It's been what, almost a year I think I heard? Yet it seems like yesterday?"

"Yeah," I agreed with a nod.

"I understand," she said softly, letting her fingers stroke the hairs on my arm. "I could leave if you prefer. But I hope this doesn't sound too forward. But I'd like to stay, if you don't mind."

"I. Um. Sure. I don't mind," I finally managed to answer. She smiled in response, her fingers starting to slowly and gently stroke my forearm. "You said you've seen it so many times?" I asked curiously after a couple minutes of silence.

"I've had to counsel many over the years that are going through what you are. The loss of a partner after so many years can be devastating. Some sink into a sense of loss that they just can't break out of, others, well, with help, they manage to climb back into life again."

"So you're a counselor of some kind?"

"I'm actually a clinical psychologist. I've helped my share of both men and women who have lost partners. Many, sadly, don't seek help until it's too late."

It didn't take me long to put two and two together. "Well. Thank you. But you can tell my children that I don't need a shrink. I just need to be left alone," I said with a scowl, leaning back in my chair so that my arm pulled from her reach.

"I'm sorry!" she said quickly, seeming to be shocked at my statement.

"My kids. They put you up to this? Right? Dad wouldn't go get help so they brought help to him?" I asked, not trying at all to hide my irritation. "I thought you were too good to be true."

She opened and closed her mouth several times, almost as if she wanted to say something but changed her mind. Finally, she stood up, reaching for her handbag, that was still in front of me. "I'm sorry. I came and sat by you because you looked lonely, and I know that I'm feeling a bit lonely at the moment, and you're an attractive man. I wasn't hired or coerced or even suggested to come and treat you. I came because I was attracted to you. I'm truly sorry you feel the need to be alone, but I will respect your wishes," she said, before turning and starting to walk away.

I could hear the anger in her tone even though her face remained completely neutral. Maybe it was that anger that allowed her mind to not be on her actions as she walked, almost stomped, away from me, her body sending the anger message even more effectively than her tone had. I was just starting to regret my outburst towards her when I saw her go down. Her heel sunk into a soft spot in the grass, causing her foot and ankle to roll to one side, shifting her balance and causing her to topple to her right side. I was on my feet in moments, taking the dozen steps to where she lay on the grass, quickly enough that I was the first to be next to her.

"Are you alright?" I asked, kneeling next to her and sliding a hand under her back to help her sit upright.

"I think so," she said softly, reaching for her ankle. "Ouch. Maybe not all the way okay," she said, rubbing her right ankle as several other people gathered around us.

"Here. Let me," I said, easily scooping under her and lifting her off the grass. I took the two steps to one of the large round tables and gently set her on it, letting her legs hang over the side as she sat on it. I stepped back and knelt in front of her, gently lifting her right leg with one hand while I probed her injured ankle with my fingers.

"Ouch." She grimaced as I pressed on a particularly tender spot.

"I don't think anything is broken. Just twisted," I said quietly, lowering her leg to rest her foot on my leg while I remained kneeling in front of her. I looked up at her, my brain taking long seconds to realize that the sun was shining from behind me, illuminating up under her dress, the crotch of her white panties clearly visible to me. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm sorry," I said quietly as several more people gathered around us to make sure she was okay.

"For what? You didn't make me fall," she said stiffly.

"I sort of did," I answered, feeling a little conspicuous kneeling on one knee in front of her this way, practically between her legs. I could easily be proposing to her or propositioning her from this position.

She looked at me for long seconds before her stern look softened. "You kind of did, didn't you?" she finally said, a slight bit of a smile coming to her face. "You big jerk," she added in a playful tone.

I nodded and stood up, stepping over to pick up her shoe and then step back. "I've been called a lot worse," I said as I stepped in front of her and gently lifted her leg again, this time to slip her high heel back on. "I wouldn't recommend walking on this for a little while."

"Well. I can't very well sit here all night," she said, looking up at me now that I was standing in front of her again. "Would you mind giving me a hand to my car?"

"I don't think you'll be driving anywhere for a little while," I answered, stepping slightly to her side, reaching my right arm around her back and sliding my left arm under her legs. The bystanders backed away to give me room as I easily scooped her off the table. "I think you left your drink over there," I said as I turned to carry her back to where we had been sitting. She wrapped her hands around the back of my neck to help support herself as I carried her towards the still pulled out chair. She let go of her grasp behind my neck slowly after I'd set her down in the same seat she had vacated only a few minutes earlier, her slow release holding my face near hers for long seconds.

"I thought you just wanted to be left alone," she said after she let go and I was able to stand upright again.

"And I thought my kids hired you to try and talk me into dating again," I answered as I sat in the chair in front of her again.

"Dating again? Is that it?" she said with a soft feminine chuckle. "You don't want to start dating and they're pushing you to. Let me guess. You also promised your late wife that you would?"

"Yeah," I said with a shrug and a nod. "But I've been avoiding it. My oldest daughter and my wife's best friend have even been trying to set me up on dates. I just don't want anything to do with it."

"I can understand that. I guess I can also see how you might jump to the conclusion you did. I mean, what are the chances that a shrink would just happen to find you and chat you up, right?"

"Something like that." I agreed a little sheepishly.

"Well, your kids didn't hire me, but that doesn't mean that I'm not going to try and help you."

"Why?" I asked, cocking my head to one side and looking at her in surprise. "I mean, after what I just said to you."

She looked at me with a smile. "Because I'm attracted to you," she answered. "If I were an electrician and I offered to help you fix a broken light, would you be suspicious, or would you just think I was being friendly?"

"Being friendly I guess."

"Well, just because I don't fix lights, doesn't mean that I don't want to use my talents to help someone I'm interested in."

"Well. Thank you. For being interested in me I mean. But I think I'm way too old for you. Not that I'm trying to chase you away again, but I need to be honest with myself."

"There's nothing wrong with being honest with yourself. It's healthy. But you should really be at least sure of your facts before you make decisions. What makes you think you're way too old for me?"

"Charlie...I can call you that right?"

"I think I'll let you...for now," she said with a little grin.

"Charlie. I'm no spring chicken. I hit sixty almost a year ago. You've gotta be what, half my age? Maybe a couple years older at most? You should be looking around here for a nice guy your own age. I'm flattered, but still..." I said as she broke out in laughter, her hand partially covering her mouth.

"I'm sorry William. I shouldn't laugh," she said as her laughter subsided. "You assume I'm only thirty something because of how I look," she said, leaning towards me and reaching for my arm again, this time laying her hand on it fully. "I am so flattered by that. But I'm much older than you're giving me credit for. I was married for twenty-four years before my divorce almost two years ago, and I didn't marry young. You look like an intelligent man, I'm sure you can do the math."

"You simply can't be that old."

"I'm not in the habit of telling men my age, but I will tell you if you're close, should you happen to guess."

"My math says you have to be about forty-five, or there about. But I'm having a hard time buying that answer."

"That's actually fairly close," she said with a smile, "And thank you for telling me I don't look it. It takes a woman a lot of work to stay trim, and a lot of makeup to look more than ten years younger."

"You don't have that much makeup on, do you?"

"Some," she admitted.

"So can I ask a personal question?"

"Yes, if you allow me to ask one back."

"Divorced? Can I ask why?"

"Worried you're getting interested in a serial killer, or worse, a serial cheater?" she asked with a crooked little smile.

"Something like that," I admitted sheepishly.

"Since you'd only ask that if you were thinking you might actually be interested in me, I'll tell you. My husband changed jobs about four years before our divorce. He started running around with different people and traveling for work a lot. The first few times I smelled perfume on the clothes he brought home made me suspicious. My suspicions were confirmed when he was out on the road and I called him by FaceTime instead of voice. He must have been distracted and answered the call before he realized it was a video call. When he realized, he tried to shield the camera so I couldn't see, but I'd already seen that he was lying in bed with his head between the legs of a naked woman."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. It didn't take long before he admitted that he'd been sleeping around when he was out of town. When I suggested he stop, he suggested I go to hell. It didn't take long for me to get a lawyer and file paperwork. I took him for every penny that the judge would allow me to. Not that I needed the money, but I wanted to punish him for what he was doing to me. Not just cheating on me, but tearing our family apart."