Oscar was the best man.

Take that any way you want.

He stood up there with the bride and groom, the bridesmaids, and the groomsman. He was the only one I had eyes for.

He was dressed the same way as the other guys, black tails and white shirts. Their bow ties were different bright colours. Oscar's was red. The womenfolk looked stunning in black skirts with white blouses, some sort of ties hanging from their necks, the colours matching those of the guys. The bride, lest I forget to mention it, was stunning. Her new husband was a dream. Now back to the best man.

Oscar, I found out, was a cousin of the groom. I was a cousin of the bride. No matter how you looked at it, by the end of the ceremony we were related by marriage.

I'm not usually so forward, but as soon as I got the chance, I cornered Oscar and explained this to him. He agreed that it was the perfect excuse to spend some time together, but not until he'd completed his duties.

When the speeches were over, and the groom suitably embarrassed, the obligatory formal dances started. Once he'd put in the required effort there, he came to find me.

"Your name," he said to me as he stood near the table, isn't Scarlett, is it?"

"No. It's Amy. Why Scarlett?"

"Well, it's red, you know? The colour? I'm wearing this silly neck strangler in red. You're wearing a stunning red dress. I just thought it would be the perfect name."

"Scarlett."

"Yeah."

"No. Amy."

"Yeah. You said. Amy. I like that too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Have you been drinking, Oscar?"

"A bit, yeah."

"Uh huh."

"Listen, no matter what your name is, you look stunning in that dress, and I need you to dance with me. Otherwise the bridesmaid is going to step on my feet again."

"So will I."

"You're smaller. And much more decorative."

"She's gorgeous."

"Says you. Yes or no?"

So we danced. Perhaps he was right. About the clothing, I mean. I didn't dress this formally very often, and I'd gone to a lot of trouble choosing the dress. It was slinky, and slim. I rather liked the way it clung to me. It was much shorter than anything I normally wore.

I didn't step on his feet, but I can't take the credit. He was very quick, and avoided me wherever necessary.

He'd shown another side, too. At a break in the music he'd gone back to the front table, rustled around under his chair, and pulled out a baseball cap. He'd put the cap backwards on his head, pulled it tight, and left it like that to dance with me some more.

The evening progressed, and I spent most of it with Oscar. We drank a little more, but mostly just danced. I got a bit of a buzz from the alcohol, and became horny as hell hanging out with the best man.

He was nice, too. I mean he looked nice, for a start. We both had dark hair, and he was quite a lot taller than me. He had a confidence about him that was contagious. I liked him immediately, and later in the evening when he danced me out onto the huge deck, I didn't argue a bit.

We stood and talked about nothing, both a little under the weather, but feeling great. The night was warm and still, and the garden was scattered with couples who had escaped the heat of the dance floor, the company, or the light.

We stood there for a while, our fingers casually linked, and then he turned me to him, and put his hands on my hips. He spoke, quietly.

"Are you... seeing anyone, Amy?"

"Uh uh. Not just now."

"Me neither."

"Good."

"Yeah." His hands slid down then, off my hips and onto my ass. He pulled me a little closer before continuing. "I wonder then, well..."

"No," I answered politely, grinning at him. I took his hands, reluctantly, and put them up on my waist. "No, I couldn't."

"No?"

"Nope."

"Bummer."

"Yeah."

"Because I was also wondering..."

"Yes?"

"About..." He put his mouth close to my ear, despite there being no one else close enough to hear. "Your panties."

I must have blushed then, but I grinned as well. "What about them?"

"Well, are they red, too?"

I blushed again, but was more distracted by the surge of energy, the tingle between my thighs. Nonetheless I resisted. I'd had too much to drink to trust myself to be sensible if I started anything. "Oh. There's only one way you're going to find that out." I moved his hands off my ass again, more forcefully this time. "Do you wear that cap a lot?"

"All the time."

"Give it here?" He questioned me with his eyes, but handed over the cap. I put it and my little red handbag on the railing that ran around the deck, searched quickly in the bag to find my pen, and stopped with it poised in the air, above the cap. "May I?"

"On the inside, please."

"You don't want to deface it?"

"I don't want to share it."

"Fair enough. What are you doing?"

"Staring at your ass, trying to decide."

"Keep guessing."

"Oh, I will. That's your number?"

"That's it."

"I might need your name beside it."

"You're that drunk?"

"Just so many women."

I swung the hat at him, and he caught it. "Phone me."

"I will."

"No, really."

"Yes, really. I will."

"You promise?"

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Promise to tell me?"

I tingled again. I loved how focused he was. "Oh, yeah. You phone, I tell."

"Tomorrow."

"I hope so, Oscar."

That was when my sister arrived. She'd been looking for me inside for a while, and was relieved to have found me without having to venture down on the lawn. I introduced her to Oscar, who promptly insisted the whole family must be gorgeous. My sister was happily married, so she just kissed him on the cheek and told me she'd meet me out at the car when I was ready. She said I could bring him with me if I wanted. I wanted, but I wasn't going to.

I had already decided I had to leave, otherwise I was going to jump Oscar without giving him a fighting chance. I had a strict rule about first dates, and this wasn't really even one of those, so I had to go.

When my sister was out of sight, I turned back to Oscar, put the cap back on his head, and pulled him towards me, tipping his head down towards me slightly.

I kissed him as though we were in love, as though one of us was leaving the country for six months, and as though we'd been fucking on a more than daily basis since the moment we met. I could feel his cock harden as he pulled me closer, and I knew my panties were dripping with desire. I kissed him some more, and then pulled away. I made no secret of the fact that I was staring at the solid bulge in his nice trousers. Then I grinned at him, and left without a word.

I thought the ride home would be interminable. I sat in the back of the car as my sister drove with her inebriated husband beside her. The two of them chattered on and on about people they'd caught up with at the wedding. I zoned out, and pretended to be somewhere else.

After a while though, I realised I was thinking about Oscar, and how I'd have liked to see more than the bulge in his pants. I'd been with a few guys, and I knew what was inside there, but I didn't know specifically about him. I regretted leaving. I regretted my first date rule. I regretted having any rules.

Once I got thinking though, the trip was much more bearable. Every time the car went over a bump or turned a corner it was as though I'd pressed something against myself between my legs. A couple of times I did, but I had to stop. I was scared I would stain my dress - my panties were plainly unable to cope by then - or that if I started in earnest I'd be unable to quit before I came. And that simply wasn't going to happen in the car. So I just kept thinking. And dribbling.

Eventually we pulled up outside my apartment. In a way, I was disappointed that we'd arrived. I climbed carefully from the car. Each movement now was a delight. A small spasm ran through me with each step.

I quickly said goodbye to the two of them, urged my brother-in-law to take full advantage of the kids being elsewhere for the night, and stumbled away from the car towards the building. My sister called out to me, asking if I was alright. I smiled back and told her I certainly was.

I made it to the elevator before I touched myself. As the doors slid shut I lifted my dress and pressed my hand against my panty covered mound, unsure if I wanted to intensify the sensations or stop them so I could get home. Luckily no one else needed the services of the elevator at this late hour, and I made it to my door without anyone seeing me.

I stumbled through the door and slammed it shut. Able to take a breather I realised I wanted to hold off just a few minutes longer.

I dropped my bag on the floor, checked that the door was locked, and headed towards the bathroom. I grabbed a towel on the way, walked in and turned the shower on, before looking at myself in the mirror. My hair was mussed and my face was flushed. I knew I must have reeked of need, and that was confirmed when I reached back and unzipped my dress. It fell to the floor, and I was engulfed in a cloud of sweaty musk. I unclipped my bra and dropped it, leaving myself standing in just my panties.

I turned back to the mirror, looked at my almost nakedness, and smiled. I hoped he'd phone. I wanted to tell him. In any case, they had an obvious large wet patch on the front. I wiggled out of them, sighing with the movement, and climbed into the shower.

I guess I could have pretended to be in the shower for some other reason, but all I did was lean against the back wall of the cubicle and let the hot water run down the front of my body. My nipples were hard, and sensitive to the hot drops, but that was nothing to the feeling as the river ran down over my stomach to my thighs and caressed between my legs.

I squirmed, spread my knees, and invited the water to ravish me. Doubtless I could have stood there and orgasmed without doing anything else, but I couldn't wait that long, and attacked myself with my fingers as well, flicking and gently tweaking my clit desperately until I came, hard and suddenly, gasping with the shock of it.

I just stood there then, shaking and breathing hard, the water providing after-shocks and making my body jerk. It took some time to calm down, but eventually I forced myself to stand up, took a proper shower, and climbed out.

Even the towel was somehow intimate then. Every touch was personal. My whole body glowed. When I was dry, I threw the towel to the floor as well. All of that could wait. I stumbled from the bathroom and collapsed into bed.

I was so tired I wasn't sure I would actually hit the sheets before I was asleep... but that didn't happen. I lay there, exhausted but not quite relaxed, and willed myself to sleep.

It didn't work.

Eventually I moved, pulled the covers up over myself, lay down on my stomach, and did what I knew I was going to do all along.

Lifting my butt a little from the sheet, I slid one hand beneath my body, under my hips, between my legs. I straightened three fingers on that hand, held them rigid, and slowly lowered my body over them, sliding the fingers deep inside myself, impaling myself on my own hand.

This was the first way I learned to come, the way I survived before I'd let a man touch me. Late at night, alone in bed, this was still my favourite way.

I lifted my hips again slowly, bending at the knees and sighing as my fingers slid from my depths.

I stopped, fingertips near my clit, fantasized for a while, remembered some things, dreamed of others.

I lowered myself over my slippery fingers.

I spread myself . I loved the feeling of my fingers down the sides of my vagina, and the slippery softness of my tender skin on my fingers.

I stopped again, visuals flashing through my mind.

I readied myself, if that makes sense, for what was to come.

Then I fucked myself. My fingers stayed as still as I could manage, and I thrust above them, sliding up and down quickly, without any thought of further delay. I pumped in and out, my ass flexing with each movement, my whole body dripping with anticipation.

I took myself, giving no quarter, asking for none.

When I came, it wasn't the desperate release it had been in the shower. It was a mind-blowing, body-fucking shudder of pleasure, of certainty, of familiarity, of completion.

I lay there, wet, exhausted, relieved, relaxed and calm.

My sore thighs still surrounded my tired sticky fingers.

Then I slept.

I walked in the door just before midnight, wondering how I would find Oscar. I needn't have worried. He was keeping an eye out for me, and as soon as he saw me he excused himself and walked over.

He looked delicious. Dark pants with a white shirt, a long black apron marking him as a waiter, his face lit up in a smile. I wanted him there and then, and wished I could tell him.

"Hey gorgeous," he grinned at me. "You're early."

"I know. I just... didn't want to be late."

"I like that in a woman."

"You better like more than that. I'm not the most reliable."

"I like a lot more than just that. Look, I'm going to be about twenty minutes, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Should I come back?"

"What, and take the chance that someone else will take you away? No way. Take a seat. I've just got a couple of tables to deal with. They're just waiting for desserts. No, this one. Somewhere I can see you."

"I don't want you to get in any trouble."

"They love me. Relax. Say, might I interest you in something to eat? Something sweet?"

"Oh, I'm not sure I could afford to eat here."

"It's on the house. We have some left over."

"Some?"

"Oh. Lemon meringue. I just assumed..."

"I love lemon meringue pie. How did you know?"

"It's my job, Amy. Sit there and look pretty. I'll be right back."

I sat. I watched. At some point Oscar walked over and served me a plate of pie, just as though I was a regular customer. I can't say I disliked the attention.

While I was eating, I was doing two things. I was watching Oscar working, and I was remembering how the day had gone.

Oscar had phoned about midday. I was lying in bed still, recovering from the night before, and even though I was hoping he'd call, the noise frightened me. I picked it up on about the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Uh... is that Amy?"

"Sure is."

"Hi Amy. It's Oscar."

"I figured that out."

"Yeah." He paused, as though he wasn't sure, and then committed himself, with a brief question. "Well?"

"Tell me what you think, first."

"Tough question. I think not, though."

"You're right."

"Pity."

"Perhaps. You don't like black satin?"

"Oh. That depends. Do you?"

"I do."

"Then so do I."

"Good."

"Alright then. Thanks Amy. See ya."

"What?"

"I was just testing. Seeing what you might say."

"Christ, I'm already confused enough. You think I discuss my panties with everyone who phones?"

"Well, probably not your father."

"Definitely not."

"No. Well listen, seeing as you haven't hung up or anything, is there any chance we could get together sometime?"

"That depends on your intentions."

"Oh, you are your father."

"I need to know that you won't let me run off without you again."

"Oh, that's not a problem. I'll follow you."

"Alright then. When and where?"

"Are you one of these people who is really careful about not going too fast, and ruining a good friendship?"

"Not so much. Well, except the first date."

"Have we done that?"

"Let's not, and just say we did."

"I like you more."

"Yeah. So?"

"I was going, tentatively, to suggest tonight."

"Oh? Oscar, don't you have work?"

"Yeah. After work."

"At midnight?"

"Yeah. Oh, don't tell me you're an early to bed type."

"No, not especially. But where could we go?"

"Oh, the whole city is ours. Let me surprise you."

"Surprise? You've been nothing but."

"Yeah. You know where Zurich is?"

"The city?"

"The restaurant. Down near the harbour."

"Oh, I know. You work there?"

"Yeah. It's not my life's work, but I kinda like it."

"I've never been there."

"Good. How about meeting me there?"

"I could do that. At midnight?"

"Yup."

"It's... well, a date."

"Thanks, Amy. Next time maybe I can pick you up."

"Next time?"

"I'm a glass-half-full type."

"Good. So, umm... how should I dress for this date?"

"Well... what are you wearing now?"

"Ahh... nothing."

"Nothing. Nothing at all?"

"Ah, nope."

"Did I get you out of the shower?"

"No, I'm lying in bed."

"Oh. Nice image."

"Yeah, right."

"Hmmm... well, jeans, probably. And this time follow the rules."

"What rules?"

"The panty rules."

"There are rules?"

"You'll figure it out."

"I doubt it. Midnight, then?"

"Yup. Take a nap first."

"I just might."

"Bye, Amy."

"See you tonight, Oscar."

I hung up the phone and lay back in bed. I was tempted, really tempted, to lift my knees and take care of myself all over again, but I resisted. Sometimes you need to. Not often, though.

I didn't really need a nap, so I dressed, did a few chores and checked my email. I assumed that the late date wasn't going to include a meal, so I got a few things together and sat watching TV for a few hours. I'd recorded a few things and ran through them, trying to relax, but still looking frequently at the clock.

Later in the evening I checked the weather, changed my clothes, throwing on jeans and a blue shirt in the end. I poured myself a drink and made it last, so I could drive my car later on.

Eventually I left the house, too anxious, too early, and then had trouble finding a park. In the end, I arrived a little before I should have, and got pie as a result. Not so bad.

Oscar was really good with the customers. He delivered their desserts and popped back now and then to see how they were going. Coffees followed the pie, and he brought me one as well. He said they were taking a little longer than he expected, and he hoped I wasn't angry. I was happy to stare at him for much longer than this, and told him not to worry.

It must have been about twelve thirty when they finally left, laughing and joking with Oscar, and one of them waving at the chef as they headed for the door.

Oscar raced back, disappeared into the kitchen and came back out with the same black trousers on but with a dark tee shirt and his cap. I stood up as he approached, and he kissed me quickly, innocently, on the lips. I pulled him close and kissed him properly. I didn't rape his mouth like I had the night before, but he was in no doubt that I was pleased to see him.

He checked that I wasn't hungry, told me he'd eaten at his break an hour or two before, and we walked out the door, hand in hand. Outside the restaurant he stopped me and turned to face me. I was immediately reminded of the wedding the night before.

"I might have behaved inappropriately," he started. "I said something and I'm not sure it was okay."

"I'm sure it's fine. What did you say?"

"The guy at the table then. The chubby one. He asked me a question."

"And?"

"He asked me if you were my girlfriend."

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'."

"And what did you tell him?"

"I hesitated, and then I said yes."

"How dare you."

"Ahh... Yeah. I shouldn't have said yes?"

"You shouldn't have hesitated."

"That's alright then. See, he thought something similar. He told me to make sure you were."

"I see."

"Yeah. So... I just want to be careful, Amy. If I do something to piss you off, promise you'll tell me?"

"I promise, Oscar."

"Good. Okay, we need to go meet some friends of mine."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. That alright, or did I do it already?"

"No, it's fine. So are they in a bar somewhere?"

"No. Not a bar. Come on, I'll show you."

We walked, hand in hand, through the warm night. I had no real idea where we were going. I was happy just to walk.

Eventually we turned a corner and he spied his friends, all hanging out on the steps of the local museum. He ran up to them, still holding my hand, and immediately took charge.

There were six of them waiting for him. They were all dressed in dark clothes, jeans and things, but rougher-looking than Oscar. They were obviously used to him though, and they answered his questions with a nod or a smile. I had no idea what they were talking about. Oscar introduced me, and I promptly forgot all their names.

All the guys picked up their bags and things from the steps, and we wandered around the block, towards the area containing most of the office blocks.

Suddenly Oscar stopped. He looked at one of the guys. A tall dark fellow with bushy eyebrows which were raised as a question. Oscar nodded. The dark fellow turned to his other buddies, and they pulled some things out of the bags.

It was dark, and I couldn't see what was happening terribly well until they held the stencil up against the wall. It was a tin sheet with letters cut out of it. The top line said "BETTER", and then there was a gap. Down the bottom of the stencil were two words. "THAN DEAD".

Another one of the guys pulled a can of blue spray paint out, and before I had time to register what was going on, he'd sprayed the paint over the stencil, defacing the concrete wall with the words. I was dumbfounded.

As I stood saying nothing, they moved the stencil away from the wall, and I realised two of the guys were standing guard while the rest did their work. The guy who had pulled out the stencil from the bag put it back in. He pulled out another one, smaller and with only a single word on it. I couldn't quite see what it said. He held the stencil over the gap that had been created with the other one, and then Oscar bent to his bag and pulled out another spray can. He squeezed the nozzle and sprayed the small stencil, and then everything was quickly put away again.

I looked up and finally understood, at least what they had done. There was now another word in between those first painted. The word 'RED', in brilliantly bright red paint.

I spoke then. "Oscar, I don't understand. What are you doing?"

"Doing? Politics, Amy."

"You're... are you some kind of anarchist?"

"What? Hardly. A socialist, yes, but not an anarchist. It's complicated."

"Oh, God."

"Did I do it now?"

"Do what?"

"Piss you off."

"Piss me... I have no idea now. I can't even..."

I was interrupted then by one of the guys who was keeping an eye out. He'd seen the police heading this way.

Oscar took the lead again, handing his gear to one of the guys and taking me by the hand. He told them quickly to meet him the next day, and then everyone scattered. Within a few seconds, the two of us were the only people to be seen.

"Just act normal, Amy."

"I'm not even sure what normal is, Oscar."

"Well, do you want to turn me over to the cops?"

"No!"

"Then pull yourself together."

"Sorry. This is... it's so weird."

"Yeah, sorry. I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know what you'd say."

"I still don't know what I'll say."

"Just don't say it now. Keep walking, Amy."

We strolled down the street, holding hands, straight past the cops. They didn't say a word. We walked around the corner and headed towards the park. Once we were out of their sight, we started to run. I'd thought I was running to escape, but I realised I wasn't. I was running because I was excited. Because of the buzz. Because Oscar was running with me.

We were well inside the park by the time we stopped, in the shadows under the trees, both short of breath and elated at the same time.

Oscar turned to me. "Sorry, Amy. I shouldn't have put you in the middle of that."

"No, but I'm glad you did, I think. I'm not sure what I think."

"Well, can we sort that out later?"

"I guess."

"Good." He pulled me to him then, tipped my head up and kissed me. I put all my questions aside and kissed him back. Our bodies moulded together, and I loved the feel of his chest pressing against my breasts, his body squashed with mine.

When his hand ran down the front of my body, and he cupped my mound in his fingers, I didn't even try to stop him. He squeezed, pressing with his hand just where I wanted the pressure.

I hadn't realised until then, but I wasn't going to stop him no matter what he wanted now. It was so different from the previous night.

He wasn't too certain of his reception for a start, until I pressed my thighs hard against his hand. He caressed me, kissing me at the same time, making me want him even more.

When he dropped to his knees on the ground, I just stood there. He put both hands in the waistband of my jeans, and unclipped them. He looked at me for approval. I just smiled. He slowly unzipped me, letting the front of my jeans fall to the sides, then gently inserted his hands between the denim and the satin of my panties. His hands felt lovely as they slid slowly around my hips and found their way to my buttocks.

He squeezed me momentarily, and then used his hands to push the jeans off my hips and ass, sliding them down my legs. I wriggled my legs, and they fell to my ankles. I looked around quickly, and realised we were probably in enough shadow that no one would see us. I didn't care that much anyway.

My panties were soaked already. I liked the excitement, and the attention. I liked Oscar touching me, and I liked the feel of the air on my legs. I especially liked that he could see that I'd done as he wished, and he kissed me briefly right where the wet spot is on the front of the bright red satin panties before hooking his thumbs in the waistband and peeling them down my legs to join my jeans.

He let me go for a moment, and I pushed my shoes off my feet before kicking the clothing out of the way. I loved the feel of the grass under my bare feet, and I stepped forward, encouraging him to get closer.

His hands found their way to my ass again, and he pulled me to him. My legs bent a little, my knees parted, and his tongue explored its way between my legs, between my sopping labia, and suddenly he was inside me.

He licked and sucked, and I stood there, holding a tree branch so I didn't fall over, the bottom half of my body bare to the world, my new boyfriend's tongue deep inside me. He found his way to my clit, and from there the outcome was inevitable.

His tongue slid wetly back and forth over my clit, just hard enough, just fast enough, and I started to thrust against it, wanting him to continue, but desperate to finish. It didn't take very long.

I gasped, he stroked the surface of his tongue across me once more, and I screamed, let go of the tree, and grabbed his head. I yanked his hair savagely as I come around him, leg muscles quivering with the tension, groaning with pleasure, collapsing in a heap, relying on him to drop me gently to the ground.

I fell forward though, on top of him, knocking him back on the grass, dropping my weight on his body, rubbing against him without conscious intent.

At least for a start. Once I regained just a little of my sense I climbed off him for a moment, unclipped his trousers and got him to lift his ass enough for me to slide his jeans down off his hips. His hard cock was protruding from the top of his dark boxer shorts, and I pulled them down as well, revealing him properly.

I wanted to feel him in my hand, and I encircled his cock with my fingers, sliding a hand up and down the shaft a few times. He was dribbling from the top of it, and I rubbed a little of that into his warm skin before spreading my knees either side of his hips, lifting myself up, and then lowering my body slowly over him, taking him inside myself.

I talked to him while I did this, telling him how wet I was when I left him at the wedding. How I wished it was him who had removed my drenched panties in the bathroom. How I hoped he took his cock in hand and relieved himself when he got home. I told him how I imagined doing just what I was doing now, how I pretended with my fingers, how much nicer this was.

I loved the feeling of him inside me. His cock was just the right size, wide enough to make me careful, but not enough to cause any trouble.

I lifted. I could relax a little for a moment as he disappeared from my depths.

I paused, kneeling upright above him, and he pleaded with his eyes.

I plunged, loving the slippery struggle and the hardness within his soft skin.

I paused again then, enjoying the power, the control.

Lifted.

Plunged.

No more waiting. No stopping. We became one machine. Oscar's hips pushed against me, his breath was squeezed like his cock.

Hot and unthinking, we slid together and apart, over and over, faster and faster.

In the end he couldn't take it. He gasped and warned me. I ignored him and thrust again, pressing harder, removing any chance that he could turn me down.

I made him come. I took him the same way I took myself the night before.

And as he found his release, I managed to find mine yet again, and we came together, orgasmed as one. I crushed his cock between my thighs. He pumped his seed deep within me.

I collapsed, forgetting where we were, uncaring of the risk, and fell down on him again.

I whispered in his ear as he lay there, short of breath.

"Take me home, Oscar."