The other day I happened to catch “Wedding Crashers” on TV. I didn’t get to see it, but I understand that it is about two guys who make a pastime of crashing weddings. At first I didn’t understand the appeal, until I realized there are cultural differences. Apparently, in the United States, weddings are great places to “get” women. The same is true in England, where I went to college.  Actually, having been to weddings in a number of European countries I can say that weddings in the English countryside are the best:  in addition to having a great party, you are guaranteed an excellent weekend of  “shagging” in a charming bed and breakfast.

Here in Brazil there is none of that. Most weddings are traditional to the bone, full of happy couples, simply boring. But once in a while there is a wedding of a special friend, and so I have to go.

Specially when a crazy friend like Alice invites me to be a bridesmaid, leaving me with no choice. I love Alice – who by the way has boobs worthy of ovation – and her groom, Alex. I knew the party would be very different and a lot of fun, so it wouldn’t be so painful. Alice just forgot to mention that Alex has a million cousins and friends, all of whom young, single and generally hot! Best of all: they are all from out of town!

I was all primed in the vestry waiting to enter the church when I saw Alex, totally handsome, in a long tux. He gave me a look as if to say “look what I brought you” and introduced me his best friend – who would enter the church with me. Bruno was not just hot. No, no, no. He made my knees weak. Yummy!! Six feet tall, tanned, with a smile that inspired a million clichés.

We hit it off right from the start, talked nonsense, laughed, it seemed that we had known each other for ever. And during the entire ceremony it was like that. I wanted to pay more attention to what was going on, but Bruno’s smile monopolized my attention.

When we got to my car – of course I would give him a ride to the party – I remembered that I forgot my shawl (which Alice had leant me) in the vestry. After being introduced to that hunk it was a miracle I didn’t forget my bag, shoes and dress there...I had to go back and get it. Being a gentleman, he went with me. Another wedding was already going on, but there was no one in the vestry and we couldn’t find the shawl. He looked on one side, I on the other, until we bumped into each other. The sexual tension was visible – I swear! You could see the sparks, like when you plug something into an outlet. It was destiny.

I soon found myself sitting on top of a table - that probably belonged to the priest - , with Bruno’s hand coming up my thigh, underneath my dress, while he sucked my tongue so hard I though he was gonna rip it off. Although I knew we were inside a church with a wedding going on I couldn’t care about anything but Bruno in between my legs. Truth is, I am straight enough to admit this excited me even more. It’s good that I was hardly using any makeup, because it would have been smeared. He licked me, kissed me, grabbed me by the waist, the hair, the ankles...and somewhere between feeling his large hands firmly holding my hips and that enormous volume bulging from his pants straining to get at me, I came - quietly, without a sound so as not to disturb the wedding, but with infallible intensity. Bruno realized we were in a church and thought it better to stop there. Well, no one is perfect.

When we reached the parking lot at the reception we discovered that since we were in the wedding party, we had reserved parking, but since we were terribly late, we would have to wait. I pretended I was hot and raised my dress to my thigh. I didn’t need to say or do anything: his hand was right where it should be in a second, while he kissed my arm, my shoulder, my neck...

I entered the party looking like a rack, tossed hair, no makeup, but prettier than ever – Clinique should invent makeup that makes us look like we just had sex. And if this all happened without a drop of alcohol, just try to imagine what happened after a few glasses of Johnny Red! Since we were no longer in the vestry, he felt free of Christian guilt and we nearly did it the middle of the dance floor, but with no holding back in the bathroom, on the locked balcony, in the pool shed, and of course on the way home we had to do it on the rood of the car.

In the end, the only thing that Bruno saw of Florianópolis was the view of the bay and the city from the balcony of my house in Santo Antônio de Lisboa. It’s a great view,  but Floripa has a lot more. I think he is going to have to come again...