[[[-IF3M-05.TXT-]]]
----------------
Island Fever 3: Matrimony
Written by: JeremyDCP@hotmail.com
M/F, F/F and a whole lot more
----------------
Chapter 05: "Prelude"
Considering the fact that I actually spent 16 years on a
tropical island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with
little to no contact from the outside world whatsoever, I
thought of myself as somewhat of a quasi-expert when it came
to the subject of mental health and depression. I certainly
had been to my fair share of psychiatrists and similar
medical professionals throughout the years. If anything, I
was an absolute authority on what it was like to feel lonely
and hopeless, with no light at the end of the tunnel.
Because of what I had been through in the past, I had a
much better grasp and understanding of Pamela's bout of
Postpartum Depression than most - if not all - of the other
ladies. Postpartum Depression is just that - depression.
It is a clinical, acute mental health disorder.
Most women tend to experience a dip in their mood
following the birth of a child. It may be a mild mood swing
that is barely noticed, or a huge, emotional crash that can
take months or even years to recover from. The high of
giving birth wears off and anxiety may start to set in, and
the mother's normal routine is quickly disrupted as the
round-the-clock demands of a newborn are intense and require
considerable stamina and patience. Breastfeeding can present
a serious challenge, or the new mother may feel discomfort or
pain from healing, or other health issues.
What can result from these drastic changes is a wide range
of social and psychological factors associated with having a
baby which may create an increased risk of depression. Such
changes can have a direct influence on feelings of fatigue and
hopelessness. All body systems contribute to how our brains
function, and how we, in turn, perceive the world.
Simply put, having a newborn is a very challenging and
exhausting ordeal. In some cases, unrealistic expectations
of what a new baby will be like can create a profound sense
of failure, robbing a mother of her self-confidence before it
even has a chance to develop. She may wonder, why is it so
difficult for me? She may perceive motherhood as being so
easy for everyone else, yet incredibly difficult for her.
Pamela had already explained to us how she felt so happy
and on top of the world while actually pregnant, and then how
those feelings all but vanished almost the very instant she
gave birth. It certainly did not help that I left her alone
in the hospital that first night; I should have stayed instead
of opting to go home to be with the other ladies. Apparently,
Pamela had a very rough time that evening trying to get Piper
to settle down and eventually fall asleep. She actually felt
frantic and overwhelmed, and was in tears. I am still quite
angry at myself for not opting to stay and spend the night
with her - a better husband would have (I hate to admit that).
Pamela was also very insecure about her current weight.
She had been a trim and physically fit 120 pounds from the
moment I met her, but went up to 161 at the height of her
pregnancy. Now, some three weeks later, she was holding
steady at 145 pounds. And it was driving her insane.
Again, being around the other ladies on a daily basis
probably did not do her any favors in regards to her weight
and the image she had of herself as a result of it. Really,
it was a non-issue to everyone but her. None of us looked
at her any differently in a physical sense because she was
carrying some excess weight following the birth of our
daughter. It happens to every new mother, after all.
Some of the other ladies, though, were either the epitome
of diet and physical fitness (Kristanna and Trish) or simply
so small and frail that they did not have an extra ounce on
them (Devon and Lindsay). Was Pamela suddenly comparing
herself to them, and feeling inadequate as a result? Did she
consider herself to be unattractive compared to the collection
of models and centerfolds that were a part of our daily lives?
Of course, what Pamela failed to realize that all of us
still looked at her as a supermodel in her own right. She
was a beautiful, new mother, and had an equally beautiful
daughter to raise. What can be more attractive than that?
Pamela would understand that in due time, and I had the
sneaking suspicion that once she felt better, those excess
pounds would quickly become a distant memory. I do not like
to be reminded of this - but Pamela was an exotic dancer for
12 years. It was her job to stay in tip-top shape; the club
where she worked had such high demands and standards that if
she (or any other performer) was even one pound over a
certain weight, they would send her home, or even fire her.
Pamela had always embraced the idea of physical fitness, and
I knew that soon the only comparing with the other ladies
she would be doing would be in a strictly positive sense.
Compounding her current issues, Pamela missed Piper
horribly as we were in the middle of our vacation in the
United States. It was tearing her up inside that her newborn
baby was some 4,000 miles away from us right now in Norway
(the same could be said for Kristanna and her infant son,
Kaden). We were here, of course, for Trish and Lindsay's
wedding, and could not have safely brought Piper on such a
long airline flight. Pamela (or Kristanna, for that matter)
did not regret the decision to leave her child behind; she
understood that this trip was for Trish and Lindsay. Still,
Pamela missed Piper. And Kristanna missed Kaden. Badly.
The two ladies would gather at the laptop computer at
various points throughout the day and night, and watch live
images via web-cam of their respective child that Kristanna's
mother, Rande, was providing for us. Rande and her husband,
Kristof, were watching the babies for us. Oftentimes, Pamela
would become so incredibly emotional that she would just break
down and start crying. She desperately wanted to cradle Piper
in her arms and be able to love, coddle and care for her.
But what of the panic attacks Pamela had experienced since
giving birth to Piper? The stress and anxiety? The loss
of appetite, the extreme fatigue, her decreased libido and
the feelings of sadness and emptiness? Did the fact that
Pamela was actually ashamed of herself for not feeling more
happy make her a bad mother, or a bad wife? A bad person?
The answer, of course, was a resounding _NO_.
Her body simply did not react very well to the process of
giving birth and the recovery from it afterward. Her body's
chemicals and hormones were in complete and utter chaos, and
it would need plenty of time (and support) to properly heal and
return to normal.
I sat next to Pamela and held her hand in the office of the
psychiatrist in a suburb of Cincinnati on Friday morning for
90 minutes and listened to her pour her heart and soul out to
him. There were certain things that had been affecting her
that I did not even know about, yet they added to her overall
list of problems and the challenges she faced on the path to
wellness. I prefer to keep them private - between her and me,
and the rest of our little family - so will not expound.
However, I will say that everything - at least in my mind -
could be easily dealt with and taken care of in due time. And
yes, indeed, the psychiatrist diagnosed Pamela with a moderate
form of Postpartum Depression - just as Scarlett (who was a
registered nurse back home in Norway) predicted he would.
The psychiatrist prescribed Pamela with a 10mg dosage of an
anti-depressant called _Celexa_, and wanted it increased to
20mg after seven days. The doctor explained to us that while
_Celexa_ would not be an end-all, be-all cure for Pamela and
the troubles that ailed her, it would help regulate and
stabilize her neurological system and everyday mood while her
body naturally healed on its own. He did not believe that
Pamela's Postpartum Depression was all that severe and, as a
result, she would not have to stay on the medication for long.
The only real cure for her would be a lot of emotional love
and support and, most of all, time. Just time.
Both of us felt comfortable around this psychiatrist and
at ease; it was a shame that this would be Pamela's only
visit to him. We would be back home in Norway next week, of
course, and I already had a follow-up appointment scheduled
for her with Amy's personal psychiatrist, Dr. Johansson. I
had faith that Pamela would feel equally at ease with him.
Originally after taking Pamela to the psychiatrist, I was
going to drop her off at the hotel and pick up Kristanna,
then go and have Christmas with my family at my sister's
house in [City Name]. I pulled some strings with my family,
though, and got that party postponed until tomorrow. I
simply told them that something came up, and Kristanna and I
could not make it today (of course, they did not know about
all of the other ladies in my life). I wanted to spend the
day out with Pamela and show her a good time.
What better place to start than a _Barnes and Noble_
bookstore? An avid reader, Pamela had over 8,000 (!) books
in her personal library at the mansion back home in Norway.
The woman had simply never come across a book or magazine
that she did not enjoy reading. Pamela was in her element
here; I could tell that she was happy and attentive, and full
of curiosity as she browsed through the selection of reading
material. Thus, we spent two hours in the _Barnes and Noble_,
and left with three heavy bags of books and magazines.
Needless to say, I allowed Pamela to pick our next
destination. She reminded me that I had descendants buried
in a cemetery about 40 miles away in Rising Sun, Indiana,
and there was also a riverboat casino located in the town
as well (the _Rising Star Casino Resort_). It sounded like
a good idea to me. The drive along the Ohio River throughout
snow-doused rural Indiana was particularly breathtaking.
After spending a few moments with my long-deceased
grandparents, aunt and uncle at the cemetery (all from my
father's side of the family), Pamela and I went to the
riverboat casino and had a late lunch at its all-you-can-eat
buffet. Then, it was off to the gaming room itself.
I was not a gambler in any sense of the imagination; most
of my time at the casino would be spent at the penny and
nickel video poker machines. I got amusement and fun out of
just playing and trying to conquer the various machines
without actually risking (or winning) any money.
Pamela was much the same way; she and I were inseparable
as we made our rounds among the penny and nickel machines.
We were simply there to relax and have a good time.
At 5:00pm, I received an interesting telephone call from
Kristanna. She informed me that a certain surprise was
awaiting Pamela upon our return to the hotel in Cincinnati.
Instead of telling her that, I explained to Pamela that I
was tired, and wanted to go back to the hotel and get some
much-needed rest before Trish's birthday party later tonight.
It was good to be able to spend the majority of the day
out and about with Pamela in a one-on-one setting, especially
with the emotional issues that she was currently battling.
Pamela really seemed to enjoy herself as well, and even said
so during our drive back to Cincinnati.
Oh, and that surprise? Pamela screeched and began crying
tears of joy once she stepped foot in the hotel suite and
found her younger sister from Maryland, Candice, waiting for
her. The two shared an emotional, heartfelt embrace.
Apparently, Kristanna had pulled some strings of her own
today. She got in touch with Candice, who lived in suburban
Baltimore, and told her of some of the issues that her
sister, Pamela, was experiencing. Kristanna asked Candice
if she could make it to the airport and fly to Cincinnati
for a surprise visit; the airfare and any expenses would be
taken care of. Candice said she could get off of work early,
but would have to go back home in the morning because she had
a 1:00pm to 9:00pm shift on Saturday night (tomorrow).
Pamela was overjoyed to have this surprise reunion with
her sister. She was closer with Candice than anyone else in
her family, and had not seen her since our wedding in late
August. It only added to what had already been, after the
trip to the doctor, a fun day for her. Now, this was a truly
memorable day for Pamela. Leave it to the centerpiece of
happiness itself, Kristanna, to make things like this happen.
She never failed to amaze me.
* * *
Candice stayed with us that evening and everyone had a
blast as we celebrated Trish's 32nd birthday (although a day
late) with a fun and wild party. We kept the sexual innuendo
to a bare minimum in an effort not to embarrass or make
Candice feel uncomfortable; she was _not_ bi-sexual like her
sister, and had zero interest in exploring the lifestyle.
Still, Candice supported Pamela and the decisions that she
had made, and knew that her sister was around a great
collection of people who loved and cared for her to no end.
Candice also said that she was going to talk to her boss,
and try and get some vacation time in the next two to three
weeks so she could go to Norway and finally meet her niece,
Piper. Candice theorized that she could probably spend 10
to 12 days with us in Norway if we had room for her at our
estate. That made me chuckle; I explained to Candice that
the mansion itself had 20 fully-furnished bedrooms, and she
was welcome to stay with us as long as she wanted.
Perhaps my favorite moment of the evening was the look on
Candice's face when Kristanna and Pamela showed her live video
of Piper on the computer laptop. "She's so adorable!" was one
of the many comments that Candice made. Candice was gushing
and fawning over Piper - and for good reason.
Pamela and I took Candice to the airport on Saturday
morning for her 7:30am return flight to Baltimore. This time,
I had arranged for Candice to travel in the lap of luxury - my
private jet would take her home. I told the crew to treat her
like absolute royalty.
After returning to the hotel, now it was time to pick up
Kristanna and take her to my sister's house for the Christmas
party. Not only was my own sister and her family there, but
so was my oldest brother, his wife and daughter, and my mother
as well, and a group of various aunts, uncles and cousins.
As could be expected, Kristanna and her very outgoing,
gregarious nature quickly took center stage, and she became
the life of the party. Kristanna had everyone laughing in
stitches once she began sharing some of her more humorous
stories concerning me (not all of which were true, mind you).
This same, exact scenario played out at all of the previous
reunions with my family whenever Kristanna was involved.
Of course, everyone was disappointed that Kaden did not
make the trip to Cincinnati with us. Kristanna and I
explained that we felt it was better for him at such an early
age to stay home in Norway instead of traveling overseas on
such a long and strenuous flight. We assured everyone that
Kaden was in the best of care with Kristanna's parents.
After the party concluded much later that evening around
10:00pm, we got into the rental car in my sister's driveway,
and the quirky, playful demeanor that Kristanna had put forth
all day suddenly vanished in a heartbeat. Kristanna was
highly irritated with me, and I understood why immediately.
"Don't you think it's wrong, Jeremy, that your OWN MOTHER
does not even have a clue that in addition to Kaden, she also
has a granddaughter in Piper, and another grandchild on the
way once Amy's baby is born?" Kristanna frowned and shook
her head at me. "When are you FINALLY going to break down
and tell your family the truth about our relationship?"
"If anything," she added, "they deserve to know about the
children. You owe that to them. You owe it to your mother.
You're LYING to them by not telling them about our life."
It was not an enjoyable ride back to the hotel. Kristanna
and I were not necessarily angry at each other; we simply did
not talk. Yes, I was quite stubborn when it came to this
particular subject. I simply did not know how my family would
react to being told that I had three wives, would add a fourth
in just eight days in Lindsay, and had plans of eventually
being married to seven. Not to mention, of course, that my
first three children would be delivered by three different
women. What would my mother, who was as old-school as any
person could possibly be, say in response to such news? The
possibilities, unfortunately, scared me.
Again, we were _not_ angry at each other, and all of this
would most likely be forgotten in the morning, but Kristanna
and I kept our distance once returning to the hotel suite. I
opted to spend the night with Pamela and Amy in one bedroom,
while Kristanna stayed with Devon and Scarlett in the other.
As usual, Trish and Lindsay snuggled and fell asleep on the
pull-out sofa bed in the front room.
Amy tried to initiate a three-some, but Pamela declined,
saying that she was tired and not quite in the mood. Pamela
offered to leave the bedroom so Amy and I could have some
quality one-on-one time of our own, but we both shot that
idea down quickly. Amy and I at least wanted to hug and
cuddle with Pamela throughout the night.
With Trish and Lindsay's wedding a mere two days away,
everyone awoke on Sunday morning with the idea that it was
time to really hunker down, and start to make the final
preparations for the ceremony. I had different ideas, though.
I suddenly wanted to take Amy out and spend the day with her.
She had taken sort of a backseat since we arrived here in
Cincinnati last Wednesday, and let everything happen around
her. Today, I was going to devote myself to Amy.
While the other ladies began to make last-minute plans and
alterations for the wedding, Amy and I told them that we would
be back later (and yes, I received my customary hug and kiss
from Kristanna - like nothing bad had happened the previous
night (her irritation with me for not being totally upfront
with my family)). It was quite chilly outside, with a light
snow falling, so Amy and I bundled up and headed out.
I should also point out as a reminder that just like
Lindsay and yours truly, Amy also had family in the area -
her own parents. The three of us had all been born in the
Cincinnati area and had our roots here. Unfortunately, Amy
had never really seen eye-to-eye with her father and mother.
The few times that I had gotten together with them (Robert
and Kathleen)... let me just say that the atmosphere was not
friendly; it was tense.
Robert and Kathleen seemed totally disinterested in me
from the very first moment that I had met them. Nor did they
seem to care that their only child - Amy - had finally met
someone (me) who treated her right. In fact, I got the
impression from my prior dealings with them that Robert and
Kathleen simply did not care about their daughter at all.
They had no reaction when Amy and I informed them last
year that we were officially engaged. They even refused to
come to the wedding. It took place overseas in Norway, of
course, but I offered to pay for airfare and other expenses
they would incur. I just wanted my wife-to-be to have her
parents at our wedding. Was that too much to ask? Perhaps
so, because Robert and Kathleen declined the offer. They
did not even give us any words of congratulations.
Just a few weeks ago, Amy called her mother on the
telephone and told her that she was pregnant. Again, there
was little to no reaction. It really upset Amy, naturally,
and sent her into a crying fit. Amy had never been close
with her parents to begin with, but she just did not
understand why they had such a lack of interest in such
monumental and happy life-changing events for her.
Lindsay had a theory, though.
Lindsay had noticed that Amy's mother, Kathleen, was very
involved with social media on the Internet. Before I was
able to (ahem, forcefully) convince her to take them down
and permanently delete her accounts, Amy had posted hundreds
upon hundreds of photographs on _Facebook_ and _Instagram_
of not only her and me, but all of the other ladies in our
lives as well. She basically outlined our open-ended,
loving lifestyle, and gave status updates on various
milestones concerning it (my engagement with Kristanna,
Trish and Lindsay getting back together, et cetera).
Lindsay's theory was that Amy's mother, Kathleen, had
come across either her _Facebook_ or _Instagram_ account
(or maybe even both), and was shocked and appalled at the
life that her daughter was leading. Even worse, Amy left
those accounts open to the public - they were not even
locked as private. Anyone with a web browser could have
surfed right to them, and been witness to the collection
of playful, suggestive (and supposed to be very private)
photographs that Amy posted on a regular basis.
Some of the comments from random people linked to the
photographs? Nice picture of you and Lindsay, Amy - do
you two ever come to Jamaica? For the boobs! Need a
spanking? Dear _Penthouse_... That's a lot of milk in
those two big boobs. Doesn't everyone agree that Amy's
mouth would look perfect attached to my cock? ZOMG!...
marry me, please! I can definitely fap to that. It's a
shame cloning isn't around yet. DAT ASS! You and Devon
would fit perfectly in a cage down in my basement...
If Amy's mother actually did come across these photographs
and the more crude comments associated with them, it would
perhaps explain why she and Robert had been so cold and bitter
toward us. Maybe they viewed me as a swinging, billionaire
playboy who got their daughter mixed up in a life that she
could not escape? Others have insinuated that I am the sultan
of the harem, but I totally disagree with that assessment.
Ours was a loving family, and everyone was treated equally.
Most of all, no one was being forced to do anything.
Regardless, perception and reality do not always match.
What if Kathleen had come across Amy's account on either
_Facebook_ or _Instagram_ - or both - and learned of the
lifestyle that she was involved in? Each time we had went
to visit them, Amy and I acted as if we were a monogamous
couple who only had eyes for each other. What if Kathleen
(as well as Amy's father, Robert) knew differently? It
probably made them even more angry and upset that we were
not being totally upfront and honest with them.
All of this was pure speculation on my part, of course,
but Lindsay had noticed that Kathleen seemed to be all over
social media. She was a social blogger and had plenty of
followers on _Twitter_. It only made sense that she had
happened upon Amy's accounts at one time or another,
especially with the attention they had been receiving.
Perhaps one of her _Twitter_ followers alerted her?
I bring all of this up because following breakfast at a
nice restaurant on Sunday morning, I suggested to Amy that
she and I try our luck with Robert and Kathleen one more
time. Amy declined, though, saying that she had no interest
in seeing or even speaking to her parents during this
particular vacation. "This is a happy week with Trish and
Lindsay getting married," Amy explained. "I am not going to
let my mom and dad upset me, and ruin it. Not this time."
After some ongoing dialogue where Amy insisted that she
really, truly _did not_ want to visit her parents, I allowed
her to pick where we would go much the same as I did two
days ago while out with Pamela. Amy threw me a curve ball,
so to speak, by saying that she wanted to go to an arcade
fun-house across the river in Kentucky.
Trish and Lindsay were avid video gamers and even had an
entire floor in our home back in Norway that included
hundreds of amazing, interactive games and state-of-the-art
simulators, as well as old-time favorites like pinball,
billiards, poker and air hockey tables. Amy played there
in the room with Trish and Lindsay occasionally, but I never
got the sense that it was something she truly enjoyed and
would want to do on her own. So, imagine my surprise when
Amy claimed that she actually wanted to go to an upscale,
family-style arcade and spend the afternoon there.
Even more surprising to me was that the six hours Amy
and I spent at this particular arcade was some of the most
fun I had experienced in quite a long time. Amy really got a
kick out of the full-body games such as driving a car or
riding a motorcycle. It sure was something to watch her
lean back and forth on a motorcycle as she steered and raced
it through the simulator on the monitor in front of her.
I also learned that Amy could not a shoot a basketball to
save her life. She did not sink a single bucket in either of
the two games that we tried. She did, however, get a number
seven all-time ranking on _Transformers Human Alliance_, an
arcade machine based after the movie and toy franchise. Amy
was very proud of herself and the accomplishment too.
"That's going to be us one day very soon," Amy told me
over an early dinner at the arcade, squeezing my hand, as
she motioned toward a young couple tending to a little baby.
When I rubbed her stomach in response, Amy leaned over and
planted a slow-moving, sensual kiss upon my lips.
It was 6:30pm once we were able to finally tear ourselves
away from this palace of fun and entertainment. I was ready
to go back to the hotel, but Amy had other plans - she wanted
to go someplace else, but would not tell me exactly what it
was. Instead, Amy simply gave me ongoing directions on how
to get there as I drove the car. Soon enough, I found myself
in the _Hustler Hollywood_ store in downtown Cincinnati.
I actually felt embarrassed as several eyes throughout the
sex-themed establishment were on us as Amy browsed through an
entire wall dedicated to every type of dildo and vibrator
imaginable. How often did a woman this beautiful come into a
place like this with her husband? Even more embarrassing for
me was the simple fact that Amy had a shopping cart, and kept
tossing items into it. A strap-on dildo here, a _magic wand_
there, throw in some lubricant for good measure... even a few
hardcore toys such as straps, paddles and even some chains.
Once she had over $1,000 worth of merchandise in her cart,
I finally asked Amy what in the world she was doing.
"Trish and Lindsay's wedding," she told me. "It is just
48 hours away, you know, and there will be a big party after
it. And I'm NOT talking about the reception." Amy's pretty
green eyes gleamed with mischief as she added, "You already
know, Jeremy, that Lindsay wants to have a big orgy once we
get back to the hotel that evening." Amy motioned toward
the 30 or so sexually charged items in her shopping cart and
concluded, "This will just make the night all the more fun."
I held up and inspected a sturdy wooden device, with a
red, heart-shaped flogger on the end of it, that had a tag
attached which identified it as a _spank me silly paddle_.
"Lindsay is going to LOVE that!" Amy gushed.
"Oh?" I countered, smiling playfully. "Since when do you
have the right, little Amy, to do anything dominant or
aggressive? I stripped you of those rights last year when
you became my submissive. Remember? It was for your own
good. Both you and I agreed that your days of domination
were over, and never to be explored again."
"You have to let me have one night every now and then,"
Amy pleaded, but with a grin. "I've already been talking
with Krissy and coming up with plans. Krissy wanted me to
buy a bunch of new sex toys before the wedding took place,
and that is why you and I are here. Krissy and I have a big
night planned for Lindsay, as well as Trish, come Tuesday."
Amy took the paddle from me, then cruelly smacked her own
hand with it. Almost everyone in the store looked our way
as she added with a whisper, "You have to allow me this one
night, at least, where I can rough Lindsay up a little bit.
You know how much she will enjoy it."
I frowned, but nodded my head in acceptance. I preferred
Amy being placid and subservient, rather than demanding and
harsh. Her dominant side had not been on display in nearly
a year and a half, but I knew that she and Lindsay did have
some good times in the past when they dabbled in bondage and
submission. I suppose that I was fine with Amy returning to
_the dark side_ for one night (and one night only). After
all, it was the night Trish and Lindsay would get married.
I would just have to keep a watchful eye on Amy and the
proceedings to make certain that things did not get too out
of hand. Amy was well aware of the fact that she was in the
early stages of pregnancy, and could not do anything too
physical or extreme because it may put our baby at risk.
That baby meant everything to Amy, and I was confident that
she would use the proper constraint in protecting herself.
As it turned out, Amy purchased $1,346 in sex toys and
similar devices from the _Hustler Hollywood_ store. She
put everything into a large duffel bag and then tossed it
into the trunk of the car, and made me promise not to tell
any of the other ladies (except Kristanna) about it because
all of this was meant to be a surprise.
After an otherwise fun day out, Amy and I finally made our
return to the hotel at 8:45pm. Everyone was present except
for Kristanna and Scarlett, but they were en route from a day
out themselves, and would be here soon. Tonight, I fell
asleep on the pull-out sofa bed with Trish's head on one
shoulder, and Lindsay's on the other.
The following day, Monday, would definitely be devoted to
getting ready for the wedding. With the ceremony taking
place on Tuesday evening, all eight of us went to the church
early and prepared for the rehearsal.
Along with Trish and Lindsay's respective families, the
wedding planners and the officiant himself, we practiced and
rehearsed every step of the ceremony from start to finish -
although not particularly in order - in hopes that everything
would unfold without a hitch.
How would Trish and Lindsay stand at the altar during the
ceremony? How would all eight of the bridesmaids stand?
Which side would they line up on? How did we want them to
hold their bouquets? With one hand or two? Near their waist,
or their midriff? Where would the Matron of Honor, Kristanna,
line up? Where were the flower girl and the ring bearer
supposed to stand? Were any songs that we chose too long? Or
were they too short? Did we want to change any of the songs?
Would it be appropriate for a man (namely me) to be at the
altar for a marriage ceremony between two women?
What about the recessional? How would Trish and Lindsay
leave after the ceremony was over, and they were officially
married? Would they be the first to leave, or did we want the
wedding party to exit before them? What of the processional?
What cues would the officiant or the wedding planner give for
each individual person to make their entrance? Should the
bridesmaids enter at intervals of 20 feet, or 30?
All of these questions - and many more just like them -
were debated, discussed, decided upon and then ultimately
practiced over and over again. The love and admiration that
Trish and Lindsay felt for each other was truly unique and
special. It was only fitting that the biggest day of their
lives reflected that. This wedding, which would take place
in less than 24 hours, was a long time in the making.
I could hardly wait for it to happen...
<<<- End of Chapter 05 ->>>
PLEASE NOTE: One more chapter to go before the story and the
series itself is over! It will be posted very soon...
==---- -- -- -- - --- -- -- - - --- -- -- --- - -- - - - - --- -- ----==
"Island Fever 3: Matrimony"
(c) 2014 JeremyDCP
- JeremyDCP@hotmail.com
Feedback is always appreciated!