Wedding Night

 

The air in "Lace & Linen Dreams" hung heavy with the scent of rose...and the palpable tension of at least one of the customers.

Clara, the soon-to-be bride, beamed happily, utterly obvious, a bridal magazine in her hand. Her mother, Eleanor, regal, proper, looked determined as she surveyed the delicate garments. Clara's finance, Thomas, stood as rigid as the mannequins, his face a mask of profound discomfort.

"Clara, dear," Eleanor looked at her daughter, "did you decide?"

"Decide, mother?"

"Are we shopping for just your wedding night, or garments for the wedding itself, too?"

Clara looked at Thomas, smiled. "I...both," she said, looking suddenly nervous.

Thomas felt his stomach sink. It had been one thing playing the game with Clara when they were both drinking, but shopping for wedding lingerie with his future mother-in-law present was something entirely different.

Eleanor looked at Thomas with a grin. She spoke, her voice a silk-lined whip. "Clara tells me you have some, well, particular preferences?"

"I..." Thomas started to say but stopped when a sales assistant, Brenda, approached. 

"Welcome," Brenda said with her perpetually cheerful voice. "What brings you in to Lace & Linen today?"

"My daughter's getting married next month," Eleanor said, taking charge, "so we're doing some shopping."

"Wedding day, wedding, night, or honeymoon?" Brenda asked.

"I suppose all three," Clara answered.

Brenda saw the look exchanged between Clara and Thomas. "You know, we have waiting lounge," she said, looking at Thomas, "he might be more comfortable there so you girls can shop."

"I...I'd like his opinion," Clara said, "it...it's his day, too." She knew Thomas was mortified so tried to keep the situation vague.

"What type of dress are you wearing?" Brenda asked, "that often informs the undergarments, for example, with a strapless dress we might..."

Eleanor had had enough. "I apologize, we should have been clear from the start; Clara and I already picked out all her things, today we're shopping for Thomas. What do you think of this, dear?" she asked Clara, pointing to a white foundational teddy with garter straps.

Clara saw Thomas go as white as the teddy as sales associate stared at him, knew his distress. "Do...do you thing he should wear stockings?"

Eleanor narrowed her eyes. "It's a wedding, of course," she said. "Are the cups padded?" she asked Brenda.

Brenda nodded. "Most of our bridal wear has padded cups. Are you trying to make it...inconspicuous? If so, I can suggest a few non-padded options."

"Heavens no," Eleanor said, "quite the opposite."

"Mrs...Mrs. Stance," Thomas said softly.

Eleanor looked crossly at him, took pleasure in his discomfort. "You'll have a tuxedo jacket on, it will mostly be hidden," she said. "Now, for the wedding night..."

Thomas sighed. He'd looked forward to his wedding night with Clara for more than a year, but no it filled him with a sense of dread.