I often rass my wife about how she’s the most complicated person in the world. She is, but I have to admit that I can be pretty complex myself, making shit harder than it needs to be. A perfect example is the naming strategy I chose for the main characters in Not On Our Wedding Night! One is Christine, the other is Christian, and they have some major interactions. Not the biggest deal, but maybe a little annoying. Once I get what I think is a good idea, there’s no stopping me! 

Just thought it was worth a heads up before you purchase this story or delve into this teaser I’ve served up:   

“Shit.”
Christine was a complete wreck. After reading Christian’s letter,
which explicitly explained how he just had to have her again —
wedding or not, she feared that he would infiltrate the church, and
stand up raving about why the two of them shouldn’t be wed —
spilling the beans and ruining the happy moment for everyone. But so
far, so good. Everything went off without a hitch and no sign of the
mysterious man who manipulated her soul with Jedi mind tricks.


Christine
decided it was time to regain control, live out her life of happiness
as she had been planning over the past year. So she fucked up on one
night in her life. It was over and done with. All in the past. But
then ..  


“Who
is this?” Christine looked on with intrigue as the black limo
pulled up in front of the hall. She was so buzzed that she must’ve
lost track of time. The reception festivities were coming to a close,
and it was almost time for she and Richard to head off to the hotel
to start their new lives together. Two days at one of the finest
hotels in Michigan then it was off to Hawaii for a week of
all-inclusive fun in the sun. She couldn’t wait. Still, she didn’t
go inside to stand by her husband’s side.


Christine
couldn’t explain what happened. It was like there was this unseen
force reeling her in, drawing her towards the back of the limo. As
she approached, the rear window rolled down … there he was. Well,
Christian decided to spoil her special day after all. He looked fine
as ever sitting there in a tux like he was a part of the wedding
crew, hair freshly and tightly twisted in corn rolls while sipping on
a glass of bubbly.


She
thought about pinching herself to make sure this wasn’t some cruel
illusion playing tricks on her mind and vision. This couldn’t be
real — could it? She wished it were a dream or a figment of her
twisted imagination, but even with the alcohol and cannabis in her
system, Christine realized that she was wide awake. The realism of
the moment became apparent when she opened the back and hopped
inside.


There
was no need for words. Christine huddled up next to Christian, stole
a huge gulp of the champagne, then tossed the glass aside, not caring
if she spilled some over the plush seats of the limo. She initiated
the contact, attacking like a savage — feeling, kissing, wrapping
her legs around Christian so he couldn’t escape. She couldn’t
believe her own audacity, yet here she was on her wedding night,
playing the role of unfaithful freak to the fullest.

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