index


Message-ID: <50309asstr$1106777403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Vulgar Argot <vulgarargotREMOVEALL@CAPSinsidejoke.tv>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Subject: {ASSM} Wedding Photos, Chapter 4 of 4 (tags at bottom)
Lines: 931
Date: Wed, 26 Jan 2005 17:10:03 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Wedding Photos
Part 4 of 4
by Vulgar Argot
(Tags at bottom to avoid spoilage)


"What are you all worked up about?" asked Ethan's assistant, Colin.
"It's a wedding for God's sake. You yelled at fucking Bianca for being
late for a shoot and now you're getting all nervous about a wedding?"

Ethan scowled, "I just am. Focus on your driving, please."

Colin laughed, "You are nervous, aren't you? We're here."

Ethan looked around. They were, indeed, at the Vandevoort estate. The
car was stopped in the big, circular driveway, waiting for other cars
to disgorge their passengers.

"Besides," said Ethan, wanting to break the silence. "I didn't yell at
Bianca. I calmly told her to go home and come back tomorrow when she
could be on time."

"And she did," said Colin, amazed. "I thought I was going to die."

Ethan shook his head and rolled his eyes, "I think you'll find that
most models are professionals when they know what is and is not
acceptable behavior."

"Really?"

"I don't know," said Ethan. "That's what my mentor taught me, but he
was working with local talent, not supermodels. But, for the time
being, I'm going to behave like it's true."

"You're the boss," said Colin.

A security guard in the gray uniform of the Vandevoorts' personal
security force came up to the car, "You're the photographer?"

Ethan nodded. The guard said, "Take the right turn after the house,
follow it around, and park by the house at the end. You'll be doing
the photos there."

Ethan looked at his itinerary, "It says here we're shooting at the
main house in an hour. Are you sure?"

The guard nodded, "The main house is off-limits for the duration of
the wedding. Photos and service people are in the west house. Guests
are in the east house."

"Fine," said Ethan. Colin was already pulling the car away from the
guard.

                                        -=-
                                        
As soon as Ethan stepped into the west house, he was surrounded by the
structured chaos that all weddings are behind the scenes. When he
asked one of the caterers where to set up, she shot a thumb over her
shoulder, "Randy's room. Go down the stairs. It's the last one on the
right."

Ethan went downstairs, opened the door in question, and wound up
face-to-face with Wayne Vandevoort.

For just a moment, ice water ran through his veins. He imagined that
Wayne knew everything and had lured him down here to kill or torture
him. But, when he looked in Wayne's eyes, he saw only amusement and
arrogance. Then, Wayne smiled. It was a winning smile. No. It was more
than that. It was an election-winning smile. A man with a smile like
that could be president.

Well, Ethan thought, maybe not president. Wayne had the sort of
background that would keep him out of elected politics, but he
certainly looked capable of winning control of the Vandevoort family.

"Stringer," he said, sounding ebullient. "Glad you could make it."

Ethan gave him the best smile he could muster, "You certainly
were...very persuasive."

"Renee says you're the best," said Wayne. "Personally, I thought you
were still in Korea, taking pictures of dead babies."

"I was in the Middle East," said Ethan. With one hand, he indicated
that Colin should set up the equipment.

"Nice of you to come back long enough to get those two singers to dyke
it up," said Wayne.

"I'm glad you enjoyed my pictorial," said Ethan, feeling faintly
nauseous.

Wayne nodded, "That's one sandwich I wouldn't mind providing the meat
for. In fact..." he rubbed his chin as if thinking, "...they're both
here as bridesmaids. Maybe I'll do that after I get hitched."

For a split second, Ethan got angry. That was how long it took him to
realize that Wayne, whether he knew it or not, was bluffing. He'd seen
the look on Sondra's face when she talked about Wayne. Even though her
words had been less than certain, Ethan knew she wouldn't go willingly
to Wayne's bed any time soon.

Despite the fact that he'd gotten much closer to Chastity, Ethan had
no idea what she might do about Wayne. That bothered him a little.

"Chastity's here, too?" Ethan asked. She hadn't been on the list of
bridesmaids.

"Last minute change," said Wayne. "You know how women are about these
things."

"Like what things, dear?" Renee asked, sweeping into the room.

The smug smile faded from Wayne's face for a second, "Renee, I hope
you weren't spying on me." His tone of voice suggested he was kidding.

"Of course not," said Renee, smiling at him. "There's plenty of time
for that after we're married."

Now, Wayne frowned. But, Renee's tone had been as light as his own,
leaving him no room to criticize. Instead, he said, "Shouldn't you be
getting ready?"

Renee indicated her hair, which was done in exactly the same style it
had been at Ethan's studio, "I'm all done but getting my bridesmaids
and myself dressed. We're using the sun room."

Wayne scowled, clearly annoyed, "There's a room set up for you in the
East House for that."

Renee gave him a conciliatory smile, "It's been taken over by florists
and your relatives. We need more room than we had." She leaned close
enough to stage whisper, "You know models--bunch of fucking prima
donnas. I just want to make sure everything is perfect."

"Fine," Wayne growled. "Do whatever you need."

Renee went up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. It was an odd
gesture, Renee being only about four inches shorter than her fiancee.
Looking over Wayne's shoulder, she made a gesture with her head at
Ethan, indicating that he should follow her when he got the chance.
Ethan nodded and busied himself with his gear.

In spite of Ethan's clear body language that he was busy, Wayne took
another ten minutes to leave. He spent that time making innuendo and
threats and taunting Ethan. Over all of it, he laid a thick veneer of
civility and plausible deniability. At first, Ethan was afraid that
Wayne knew what he and Renee had done. But, it eventually became clear
that this was just Wayne's way of crowing over what he considered a
fallen opponent.

There was no subtlety to his barbs. If Ethan hadn't been under so many
other pressures, it would have been positively laughable. He wondered
if Wayne had always been this ridiculous or if current circumstances
had made him lose his touch.

Still, Ethan was under a lot of pressure and the twin incentives of
Wayne's presence and knowing Renee wanted him to follow made each
second seem to stretch on forever. Ethan wished to God he knew how to
make Wayne shut up and go away.

Then, he did know. It took him another minute after realizing which
topic Wayne was completely avoiding to decide to use it. Of all the
topics he could have chosen, it was the only one that really could
have wounded Ethan is properly wielded. Taking a deep breath, Ethan
apologized silently in advance for what he was about to say.

"So," he said when Wayne took a breath. "I heard that you and Katie
didn't work out."

Wayne paused and glowered. He tried and failed to hide the pissed off
look on his face, "Obviously. I'm marrying Renee. Aren't I?"

"Oh, yeah," Ethan said as if he weren't listening. "I meant that I
heard it when it happened. She called me."

Wayne looked suspicious, "She did?"

Ethan nodded, "Yeah. You know how women are. She was all, 'I made a
horrible mistake. Take me back.'"

"Bullshit," said Wayne, not sounding at all certain. "You would have
taken her back in a second."

"Katie?" Ethan asked. "You're kidding. Right?"

"You were fucking crazy about her," Wayne said, his voice rising.

Ethan laughed, "You believed that? Jesus Christ, Wayne. I would have
explained it to you back then, but I thought you were smart enough to
figure it out on your own."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Wayne was almost shouting now.

"Katie was a crazy bitch," said Ethan. "You know how it is. I'm
getting by with half the fucking girls in the high school. Katie's a
nice piece of ass, but nothing special. I tell her I love her and want
to spend my life with her, but I tell them all that. Katie's the only
one who takes me seriously. The next thing I know, she's applying to
the same fucking colleges as me. Dude, I'm going to college to be a
fashion photographer. What do I need some little high school piece
I've already had following me around like a puppy? Wayne, restore my
faith in humanity. Tell me you didn't buy that crap I laid on her so
she'd go away?"

"No," said Wayne, looking gray. "Of course not. Listen, I need to go
get ready."

After Wayne had left, Colin started laughing. When he could speak, he
said, "Ethan, I've seen some bad fucking acting in my time, but that's
got to be the worst. I can't believe he fucking bought it."

Ethan decided to let the comment about his acting ability slide, "Of
course he bought it. People like Wayne Vandevoort want to believe that
the whole world is just as corrupt as they are."

"What an asshole," said Colin.

Ethan chuckled, "You don't know a tenth of it."

                                        -=-
                                        
Sondra was standing outside the door of the sun room, chatting with
another model also dressed in the black velvet bridesmaid's dress. The
other model, one of Renee's clients, looked nervous when she saw him,
"Ethan, I'm sorry it's taken so long to get back to you. I'll call
you..."

"It's okay, Bianca," said Ethan, holding up a hand. "I know Renee told
you all not to get back to me. It's cool."

"Come on," said Sondra, taking him by the wrist. "She's waiting for
you." Not waiting for an answer, she pulled him through the sun room
where the bridesmaids were dressing.

"Jesus," said Ethan. "Are all of the bridesmaids models?"

Sondra nodded, "Except for me and Stitch. She let Wayne pick them,
then added Chaz at the end." So saying, she pulled him through a door
on the opposite side of the sun room from where they'd come in.

Whatever Ethan might have said died in his throat as him mind was
filled with the image that met his eyes. Renee sat at a vanity,
coiffed and made up for her wedding, wearing nothing but white lace
gloves, garters and hose.

She rose and came to him. Ethan dimly heard the door click shut behind
him and then, Renee was right in front of him, gesturing like she
wanted to hug him.

"God, Ethan," she said. "Touch me, please." When he reached for her,
she raised her hands, "Not above the neck."

Ethan took her by the shoulders, bent his knee, and placed a kiss on
the slope of each breast. Renee ran a lace-covered hand through his
hair.

"God, Ethan," she said, her voice low and raspy. "I need you. I don't
know if I can go through with this."

"You want me to talk you into marrying Wayne?" asked Ethan. "I don't
think I can do that, Renee."

She shook her head, "No. I want to know that I can come to you when
this is all over and you'll make me forget all of it."

Ethan's breath was taken away by the proposal. His body surged with
excitement from it, but his mind rebelled, "After what, Renee? The
wedding? The marriage?"

"The wedding," she said. "During the reception, after dinner, but
before dessert, meet me back here. Everyone will be at the party."

"One last time for the road?" Ethan asked, trying not to sound angry.

"No, God. Ethan, I can't tell you how much I've missed you these last
two weeks. Please..."

"If I agree," Ethan said. "I want you to promise to come to my office
next week."

"I'll be on my honeymoon next week...and the week after," said Renee.
"I'm flying to Amsterdam tonight, then on to Paris."

"All right," said Ethan. "Promise you'll come to me when you get
back."

Renee nodded, "I promise."

"All right," said Ethan, letting go of her shoulders. "I'll be here."

"Ethan," Renee said, sounding desperate. "Don't go yet. Please..."

"What?" Ethan asked.

"Touch me just a little more," she said. "I need to feel the touch of
someone who doesn't make my skin crawl."

Ethan leaned his head down and took each nipple in his mouth in turn.
The nipples tightened and her breathing grew faster, but she made no
other sound.

Letting his hands slide down her body, Ethan went down on one knee and
kissed her sternum. Again, Renee's gloved hands went to his hair,
holding him gently to her body. When he kissed down to her navel, she
said, "Ethan?"

Ethan ignored her, kissing lower.

"Ethan," she said more stridently, still speaking quietly lest the
bridesmaids hear her.

"We've talked about what you need, Renee," Ethan said, still down on
one knee. "Here's what I need to get through watching you marry Wayne
Vandevoort." He kissed the tiny strip of her soft, wispy blonde hair
she'd left, eliciting a shiver. "I need to know that, when you're
standing up at that altar, you're thinking of me."

"I..."

Ethan raised a finger, "I don't want promises, Renee. I want to make
sure of it."

Before she could argue, he gripped her by her buttocks, carried her to
the edge of the vanity, sat her down and was kneeling in front of her.

"Ethan," she said, alarm and warning mingling in her voice. But, her
legs spread wider, making room for him.

As soon as his tongue touched her, it was like electricity. Her body
bucked and shivered. She gripped the edge of the vanity with both
hands, trying desperately to move as little as possible. Even so,
tinctures and maquillagenic nostrums were soon rolling off both sides
of the vanity as his tongue plumbed her depths.

Soon, her body was quaking violently with only soft whimpers escaping
her throat. It had been Ethan's intention to make her come and then
get back to work. But, she came quickly and he wanted to punish her
for putting him in this position. So, he punished her with pleasure,
working his tongue in and out of her in the virtuoso performance of
his life. He only stopped when Renee finally took him by the hair and
dragged him physically away.

She stood up, "Goddamn it, Stringer." But, there was a sparkle in her
eyes and no malice in her words. "I'm going to have to get my makeup
redone." Taking his head in both hands, she kissed him fiercely, "At
least it means I can do that."

                                        -=-
                                        
Ethan found himself enjoying photographing the wedding. "Enjoying"
wasn't really the word for it, but there's no gerund form of
"Schadenfreude" in English.

Things went off like a well-oiled machine. If Ethan hadn't known all
the ugliness behind it, he would have said it was lovely. Renee looked
happy throughout the whole thing, never once letting her facade slip.

During the photographing of the wedding party, the mask slipped a
little, but seemingly only when she wanted it to. Some of the looks
she gave Ethan through the lens of his camera were enough to melt the
film. Ethan captured the looks, knowing people would think she was
looking forward to her wedding night which, in a way, she was. The sun
would be down soon.

                                        -=-
                                        
The west house wasn't as empty as he'd hoped when Ethan brought the
last of his equipment in. On the bottom floor, caterers rushed back
and forth, brining out the dessert course. He strode purposefully up
the stairs to the sun room and to the small antechamber beyond it.

Again, she was undressed, the wedding dress on a mannequin next to
her. As Ethan crossed the room, she ran to him, throwing herself in
his arms, kissing him full on the mouth. She wrapped her legs around
his waist, pressing herself to him like she was afraid he would put
her down.

"Aren't you supposed to stay in your dress until the end of the
wedding?" he asked.

Renee shook her head, rubbing her nose against his, "I had a receiving
dress made for after dinner. That's why I'm up here--to change into
it."

"Well, we should get you into it, then," said Ethan, crushing her to
him. "You'll be receiving shortly."

"God," said Renee, throwing her head back and laughing. "You are so
deliciously perverse."

Ethan didn't answer, instead sitting her down on the vanity. Someone
had replaced the vials, phials, and atomizers they'd knocked over
earlier. They rained down with the impact of his first thrust into
her. By the time he found his rhythm, the vanity was shivering in
harmonic convergence with Renee's flesh. A small part of Ethan's mind
warned that they were likely to destroy it if they didn't slow down,
but the larger part didn't care.

"God...Ethan..." Renee cried out. "Fuck me...harder...obliterate me."

Ethan couldn't fuck her any harder, but took her cries as permission
to keep driving into her. Renee clawed ineffectually at his back
through his shirt, moaning as he took her. She did little to modulate
her cries. Ethan could have covered her mouth to muffle the sound, but
decided to rely on the noise of the party and the caterers to obscure
what was going on to the people downstairs.

After he came, Ethan sat down in the chair, surprised to see that he
hadn't destroyed the vanity after all. Renee slid into his lap, still
quivering, and laid her head on his shoulder. For a long time, he held
her, listening to her breathe. After a time, the timbre of her
breathing changed gradually until it became sobs. Ethan held her
through those, too.

                                        -=-
                                        
It was four days after the wedding and Ethan was in his office,
hammering out the language on a tricky contract with his lawyer when
the phone rang. Ethan knew the contract was important, but was also
unbelievably bored by it and welcomed the distraction.

"Ethan Ford Agency," he said into the receiver.

"You're still answering your own phone?" came the voice on the other
end.

"Renee," he said, grinning for the lawyer. "How's Paris?"

"Paris is the same as it was the last hundred times or so," said
Renee, sighing. "If I'd known I was coming here alone, I could have at
least planned to get some work done. Can you speak freely?"

"No," said Ethan. "Is there a number you'll be at?"

Renee gave him the number, "That should be good for at least 24 hours.
After that, don't call it. Will I hear from you soon?"

"Yes," said Ethan. "We can do that."

"All right, Ethan," said Renee. "I...I'll be waiting."

                                        -=-
                                        
Ethan's studio and office were a beehive of activity from eight in the
morning until about eight at night. He had a shoot nearly every day,
sometimes two. The amount of lead-up time at this level of the
business was awe-inspiring. He would need to acquire an office staff
at some point, but that would take time and, right now, his time was
better spent demonstrating his skill before his fifteen minutes were
up.

The hustle and bustle were a good sign, but, along with the open
architecture of the office, meant that there was almost no place in
the office to have a private conversation. Ethan found that he had to
leave his office and go down to the street to get some...if not
privacy, at least anonymity. Far more people knew his name than his
face.

When he called back, Renee answered on the first ring, "Hello."

"Still answering your own phone, I see," Ethan joked.

She chuckled over the phone, "It's good to hear your voice, Stringer."

"You too, Renee," Ethan said, realizing that he meant it. "What's up?"

"Wayne stayed in Amsterdam," she said. It sounded to Ethan like she
was trying to be conversational, but there was a hint of a purr, "He
sent me on to Paris alone. Jolene stayed in Amsterdam."

"Jolene?" asked Ethan.

"My maid-of-honor," said Renee. She gave a mirthless chuckle, "It
seems she, coincidentally, was also flying to Amsterdam after the
wedding. Do I need to say more?"

"No," said Ethan. "I understand perfectly. There are no coincidences
when it comes to Wayne Vandevoort."

"Exactly," said Renee. "So, I was wondering if there was any chance
that events might bring you to Paris this week."

Ethan sighed. He had been torn between wishing and dreading that Renee
was going to ask that. Quietly, he said, "Renee, I can't."

Ethan could hear Renee's pout in her voice, "Serves me right. I make
you famous, now you have no time to be at my beck and call."

"Renee..." Ethan said. He tried to find the right words to express
what he had to say, but couldn't, not over the phone. "Listen, come
see me when you get back to New York."

"All right, Ethan," Renee said. "Try not to work so hard. Okay?"

                                        -=-

Ethan was taking a taxi from the studio to his apartment in order to
change and go back out again when his cell phone rang. It was Renee.

"Ethan, I just landed in New York. Where are you?"

"En route to my apartment," he answered.

"Can you wait for me there?"

Ethan rubbed his temples, trying to push away the fatigue that had
been accumulating all week, "All right, Renee. I'll be there."

                                        -=-

When Ethan met Renee at the door, she hugged him like she wanted to
stay in his arms forever. It was a nice fantasy, but Ethan knew
better. Eventually, she broke the embrace and looked up at him. There
were dark circles under her eyes.

"You look tired," said Ethan sympathetically.

"I never recovered from jet lag," said Renee, her hands still resting
on his hips. "And, I didn't sleep very well this week."

"Have a seat," said Ethan, reaching for the bag she'd dropped. "I'll
get your carry-on."

"It's not a carry-on," said Renee, making no move to sit. "It's an
overnight bag."

Ethan sighed, picked the bag up, and carried it into the living room,
"Sit down please, Renee." Then, he sat in his own easy chair.

As soon as Renee had sat down on the couch, Ethan said, "I can't do
this, Renee. I can't be your lover."

Disappointment was writ clear on Renee's face, "Why?"

"Because I like you, Renee," said Ethan.

"I like you too, Stringer. I fail to see how that would be a
disqualifier."

"If I didn't like you," Ethan said. "It would be simple. I would be
fucking Wayne Vandevoort's beautiful wife right under his nose. I'm
not going to pretend it's not a powerful temptation. But, I can't
share you, Renee, certainly not with Wayne Vandevoort."

"Would it help if I told you that Wayne hasn't touched me since the
wedding?"

Ethan shook his head, "No. It won't last. Besides, what about the
other eleven people you're going to cuckold him with? You would be
cheating on me, too."

"That..." Renee said, sounding almost meek. "That's something I have
to do, Ethan."

"I know," said Ethan sadly. "And this is something I have to do. I
really like you, Renee. But, I can't be with you."

Renee raised an eyebrow at him and gave a wicked grin, still tinged
with sadness, "You like me. Huh?"

Ethan laid his head back on the headrest of the chair, "Dammit, Renee.
You know what I mean."

"I know," said Renee, fatigue radiating from her voice. "I like you
too, Stringer."

                                        -=-

Renee ended up falling asleep on Ethan's couch after they'd been
talking for a couple of hours. Ethan laid a blanket over her, went to
his bedroom, and fell asleep.

Some time in the middle of the night, he felt Renee slide into bed
with him, pressing her body against his back, spooning him.

For a few minutes, they lay there, neither one moving or speaking.
Then, Renee ran one hand up his leg, stroking his bare stomach and
chest in idle circles. When she kissed his shoulder, Ethan rolled on
his back. Renee kissed his chest, low at first, then higher.

"Renee..." Ethan growled in warning.

"Yes, Ethan?" Renee asked, sounding more innocent than he'd ever heard
her, even when she was fresh off the farm.

"Cut it out," said Ethan. His voice brooked no argument.

Renee laid her head on his chest, "I had to try."

"All right," said Ethan. "You tried."

"Can I stay here?" asked Renee. "If I promise to be good?"

"Put some clothes on first," said Ethan. "Then, if you behave
yourself, you can stay."

                                        -=-

To Ethan's astonishment, Renee did behave herself that night. Even
more surprising, she continued to behave herself in the days that
came.

With the wedding over, Renee's models were free to answer Ethan's
calls and did so in a wave. Soon, her staff photographers were
grumbling that Ethan spent more time working with the models than they
did and joking that he was going to have to join the staff. Renee told
them she couldn't afford him, which was only partially true.

They saw each other nearly every day. And, the days they didn't, Ethan
noticed her absence. By the time a month had passed, Renee was coming
over two or three nights a week and sleeping in Ethan's bed. About
once a week, she tried to seduce Ethan again. But, there was something
innocently blatant about it. If Ethan left a dress shirt lying around,
it wouldn't be long before Renee was wearing it around his apartment.
Still, the whole thing was amiable and easily put aside. And, while
Ethan knew that the offer was real, the way Renee made the offer was
so obvious that he found himself unable to take offense.

Wayne, it seemed, was flying back and forth to Amsterdam and other
centers of Vandevoort power regularly and never seemed to be able to
stay in one place more than a couple of days. Ethan caught the
television coverage of one of Wayne's many public appearances and was
stunned to see a man with sunken eyes and a silvering at the temples.

When he approached Renee with his suspicion, she laughed, "Drugs?
Wayne? He wouldn't touch them. Hell, he wouldn't even let me touch
them when he could have used them to really get me under his control.
I tried coke once at one of his sex parties and he went ballistic."

"What's happening to him, then?" asked Ethan. They were sitting on
opposite sides of his couch, facing each other and sharing a glass of
wine. He looked at his own glass suspiciously, "Are you poisoning
him?"

Renee laughed, "God, Stringer. If I were going to poison him, I
wouldn't have gone through all this trouble. I would have done it
before I had to go through with the wedding--or right after, anyway.
What you're seeing is the effect of the arrests on him."

"Ivan and Randy?" asked Ethan.

"They were just the start," said Renee. "They're getting all the
publicity. But, more than a dozen Vandevoorts and
Vandevoorts-by-marriage have been caught up in this thing. Every time
he looks, another one of his allies is in the hoosegow. He's convinced
he's going to be next."

"Is he?" asked Ethan.

"Not likely," said Renee. She stretched like a cat, "They need me to
testify, but they can't compel me as long as I'm married to him."

Ethan looked up, "You won't testify against him?"

Renee shook her head, "Not until I'm done with him."

"And then?" asked Ethan.

Renee shrugged, "If it's necessary, I'll testify."

"If it's necessary?"

Renee shrugged, "A lot of things can happen in a year. He could
already be in jail by then. Hell, he could be dead."

"Renee?" There was a note of warning in Ethan's voice.

"I'm not going to kill him, Ethan," said Renee dismissively. "I didn't
do all of this so I could go to jail."

Ethan gave her a weak smile, "I didn't think you were. It's just, the
way you talk some time..."

"I was just thinking," said Renee. "He's on the edge all the time now.
He's hypertensive. He flies into blind rages every time he gets bad
news. If I were to spring my little surprise on him at the right time,
it really might kill him."

Ethan raised an eyebrow, "You're not serious."

Renee shrugged, "I'm not a doctor. It's just a fantasy. I imagine
handing him this marvelous picture of you pinning me to the floor of
your studio and fucking my ass. And, in my imagination, he clutches
his chest, keels over, and 'poof.' No more Wayne."

Ethan grumbled, "It couldn't possibly be that easy. He's made of
sterner stuff."

"Tryne's running circles around him," said Renee. "From what I can
glean from Wayne's profanity-laden rants, she was born for the role
she's in now. By the time anyone realized they'd underestimated her,
she had them almost completely disarmed. Since then, whenever they
think she's going to zig, she zags."

"So, then, why do you need to destroy Wayne? It sounds like Tryne has
it well in hand."

"She does," said Renee. "But, if it's not me, if I let Tryne do my
dirty work, I'm just another one of Wayne's victims. It has to be me.
Besides, I'm not about to trust another Vandevoort if I can help it."

"So, you're still going through with it?" asked Ethan. "Have you made
any more...progress?"

"I haven't had time," said Renee. She looked determined, "But, I
expect to--this weekend." 

Ethan frowned, "Well...good luck."

                                        -=-

It was well past midnight when Ethan heard a key turning in the lock
of his front door. He opened his eyes and felt a moment of fear before
remembering that he'd given Renee a key to make discretion easier. The
other residents of his building valued their own privacy far more than
they did gossiping about each other, but it still aided discretion if
they were able to come and go separately.

He heard the door click shut and then silence. A few seconds later,
light from the street came in through a crack in his bedroom door.
Renee padded across his bedroom, slid into bed, and pressed herself
against his back.

A minute later, she was crying. Ethan rolled to face her and drew her
into his arms, not speaking, just letting her cry herself out. Ethan
knew this was the night Renee had planned to seduce her next conquest.
He had no comforting words for her, so he just held her close,
pressing her into his chest until she cried herself to sleep.

                                        -=-

"It was awful, Stringer," said Renee, spreading butter on a toasted
bagel half. They were eating breakfast in his kitchen. Ethan had
finally gotten around to asking how her evening had been.

"He..." her voice trailed off as she searched for words. "He was like
Wayne, only not as good at it. If I hadn't known Wayne, he would have
been charming. But, he was clumsy and obvious. And, I had to pretend
to go along. I feel disgusting."

"You slept with him?" Ethan asked.

Renee shook her head, "I couldn't. I left right after sex."

Seeing Ethan's reaction, she laughed, "I'm kidding. I chickened out.
And, I still feel unclean."

"What about your revenge?" asked Ethan.

Renee shook her head, "It's not worth it, Stringer. He's already
breaking. Tryne's going to break him before I can. And, I doubt it
would kill him like I'd hoped."

"You're giving up?" asked Ethan.

Renee nodded, "I'm giving up. It was a bad idea, Stringer. You were
right."

When Ethan rose from the table to put the dishes in the sink, Renee
came up behind him and pressed herself against his back. Ethan knew
she was wearing only a long college t-shirt of his and he could feel
every contour of her against his back.

"Renee..." he growled.

"Yes, Ethan?"

"Cut it out."

                                        -=-

It was a rainy, snowy day in March when Renee let herself into Ethan's
apartment dressed in a coat Ethan recognized immediately.

"Is that the corduroy monstrosity?" he asked.

"You remembered," said Renee.

"How could I forget?" asked Ethan. "You took a lot of mockery for that
coat."

"Some of it from you," Renee said. "Or, so I remember it."

"I don't remember any such thing," said Ethan with as much dignity as
he could muster. "Why on Earth are you wearing it again?"

"I wanted to be incognito today," said Renee. "And, it was the least
fashionable thing I owned. If you didn't know me, would you believe I
was Renee White in this thing?"

Ethan shook his head. She was right, "Why do you want to be
incognito?"

"Everyone's looking for me today," she said. "I talked to the police
because I have to, but the others can go to hell."

"Police?"

Renee nodded, "Wayne disappeared today. It turns out that the FBI was
ready to formally charge him with something. He must have gotten word
because, all of a sudden, he disappeared in Amsterdam. No one knows
where he went."

"Really?" said Ethan. Realizing Renee was still standing in the
entranceway of his apartment, he added, "Can I take your...err, coat?"

Renee nodded and let Ethan take the coat from her shoulders.

"Renee..." said Ethan.

"Yes, Ethan."

"Put some clothes on."

Renee looked down, "I have clothes on. I'm wearing stockings, garters,
lace gloves, and galoshes."

Ethan closed his eyes in exasperation, "Put more clothes on."

"I didn't bring any other clothes," said Renee, as if she were
surprised by that fact herself.

"Fine," said Ethan, sounding and feeling resigned. "Wear one of my
shirts."

                                        -=-

Renee was cuddled under Ethan's arm one night in late May, dozing and
listening to jazz on the radio when Ethan said, "Renee, have you
thought about what you're going to do once you've divorced Wayne?"

"The same thing I'm doing now," she said. "Running my agency, finding
new talent..."

"No," said Ethan. "That's not what I meant."

Renee looked up at him, "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," said Ethan.

"Yes, you do."

Ethan scowled, "It's a bad time to have this conversation."

"What's a better time?" asked Renee. "We're relaxing at your place,
listening to music. Until I am divorced, this is as good as it gets.
It's not like we can go out."

"I know," said Ethan, stretching. "It should wait."

"Ethan..." said Renee.

"Yes, Renee?"

"Ask your question."

"All right," said Ethan, grumbling. Sliding away from where he sat, he
forced Renee to sit up. She thought he was going to stand. But,
instead of standing, he went down on one knee.

                                        -=-

Renee's wedding dress was a white, silk Vera Wang--off the shoulder
and elegant in its simplicity.

The ceremony, such as it was, took place in a ski chalet in Vail,
Colorado. Sondra stood as witness and maid of honor. Colin, now
working as a photographer in his own right, was best man.

"I still think this should have been the other way around," grumbled
Colin, getting into his tuxedo. "You've known Mike a lot longer. He
should be your best man."

"I need Mike to take the pictures," said Ethan.

Mike Connor scowled fiercely, "I still can't believe you talked me
into this. I retired when you went to college. And, I haven't done a
goddamned wedding in thirty years."

"I know," said Ethan soothingly. "But, I needed just the right wedding
photographer. After all, she's marrying the photographer from her last
wedding."

"Hah!" said Mike. "If I were thirty years younger..."

"You'd be forty-two..." said Ethan. "And dead from exhaustion within
the week. Trust me on this."

Renee hadn't released the pictures taken before her last wedding. She
hadn't needed to. Wayne was still missing after having turned up
briefly in South America. But, the prenup was crystal clear. A clause
that Wayne had insisted on said either party could receive a divorce
with sixty days' notice whether or not the other spouse was available
to appear in court. It also specified a lump sum that was now larger
than Wayne's personal fortune. At least, that was what they'd thought
until Tryne sent a Vandevoort family lawyer to help uncover assets
Wayne had hidden away from the courts. The chalet had been one of
those holdings.

The sun was down when Ethan joined his bride in front of the wide
windows that overlooked a pine forest that seemed to go on forever.
The electric lights were kept low, a roaring fire burning in the
hearth. The minister came from Chastity's new church, which was
harmlessly eccentric enough to raise no objections to performing the
ceremony. Chastity sang a beautiful, haunting a capella solo as Ethan
and Renee walked from the back of the room. There was no aisle, but
they behaved as if there were.

It all seemed so surreal to Ethan that it didn't really hit him that
he was going to be married soon. Then, he looked down at Renee, who
looked up at him with such love and trust in her eyes that he knew
they'd already gotten past the hard part. This would be easy.

When Ethan kissed Renee as a man kissing his wife for the first time,
Mike snapped photos. Renee held Ethan's head, kissing him passionately
and pressing her body firmly against his. After a few long seconds,
she released him enough that he could stand up. For that, Ethan was
grateful. He hadn't entirely convinced himself that she would behave
herself in front of the camera.

Wedding Photos
Part 4 of 4
by Vulgar Argot
(MF, rom, oral, cuckold)

--Vulgar Argot
  http://storiesonline.net/library/author.php?id=2020
--
"Vulgarity begins when imagination succumbs to the explicit."
  --Doris Day

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+