This is a work of fiction, loosely based on the character
Jeff Mitchell, from the film "The Sum of Us",
which starred Russell Crowe.
I do not own the copyright on that character, but only
on the premise of this story.

This story is for readers over the age of 18 only, and contains explicit sexual situations and adult language. The writer is not responsible for any "discomfort" caused to the reader by this language and these situations.

©2001 by WILDBEARIES

The Plumber - Chapter Nine

I had originally planned to have a traditional wedding, but once I started planning it, I realized neither Jeff nor I were “traditional” people - not to mention the mix of his friends, my friends, and the people from the plumbing company being a bit too eclectic for everyone to feel comfortable. We opted for a more intimate small wedding and a big party afterwards where everyone had a lot of space to mingle or not and have a good time.

So, instead of hunting for the perfect fairy tale white dress (Hah! Shoulda been scarlet!) I was able to choose something simpler, but still romantic. Jeff and I both believed in God, and we guessed we were Christians, but both of us had bad memories of conventional churches - he in Australia and myself in the States - so we looked around for other alternatives. I didn’t particularly like the non-emotional atmosphere of a judge’s office, and he wasn’t sure about a less traditional church. We both started asking friends about other options. What I found was a beautiful small wedding chapel that had a view of Sydney Harbour out a wall of sliding glass doors, and lawns with flower gardens surrounding it on the other three sides. The nice lady who was in charge of renting the chapel put me in touch with a Unitarian minister - a woman - who had performed a lot of less traditional weddings, and who was one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. She quickly agreed to perform the ceremony, and we arranged it for late on a Saturday morning, with an outdoor picnic reception in the garden area afterward.

I found a great dress in one of the hipper areas of Sydney. It wasn’t a bridal shop, but they had dresses that were very much in the spirit of a wedding, and I chose a long dress in white crinkle cotton. It was covered with beaded embroidery the same color as the fabric, and had a handkerchief hem with more embroidery edging the points of the hem and long sleeves. It had a deep rounded neckline, which I knew Jeff would love because it emphasized my bosom. I tried it on in the shop, borrowing a silk flower wreath to wear on my head. I looked in the mirror. “The Lady of Shallotte!” I exclaimed, laughing. I loved it. I looked like a Pre-Raphaelite painting in it. All I needed was the knight in shining armor, but I didn’t think Jeff would go for it.

“Didn’t she go mad and die?” Sarah asked. The shop owner glared at her, but I laughed, nodding.

“I won’t though - Jeff isn’t Lancelot, and I’m definitely not going to float down a river in a rowboat without an oar.”

I bought the dress and decided to wear white satin ballet shoes with it. Sarah bought a similar dress - hers was mint green - and had satin flats dyed to match it since she couldn’t walk in pointe shoes. “Practice - that’s what it is, Sarah,” I claimed. I showed off for her by stretching for a minute and doing chaine turns in the mirrored dressing area. Good thing it was big or I’d have taken out a couple of bemused customers. At least I didn’t fall on my ass and Sarah was duly impressed.

“What about the wreath?” Sarah asked, scowling at the silk flowers.

“I’m going to have a wreath, but real flowers,” I said firmly. “You are too,” I told her. She stopped scowling and smiled. “And we’re both going to carry real flowers.”

“I know a little florist who won’t gouge you,” the shop owner told me as she put protective bags over our dresses. She gave me the address - right down the street - and we went to look.

The flowers were gorgeous. She had things I’d never seen before but which Sarah said were native to Australia - mostly bromeliads and orchids. I chose a wreath of tiny white orchids with pink centers, all braided into white silk ribbon. Sarah chose the identical wreath only of mint green ribbon. “We’re going to be adorable,” she announced to the smiling florist. We were both going to carry little nosegays of orchids and carnations. “We’re done!” Sarah and I exclaimed together after choosing carnation boutonnières for the groom and best man.

“Well, that had to be the fastest bridal selections that lady’s seen in a while,” I commented as we made our weary way down the street to the car park. I unlocked my trunk and put in the packages, then we went to have a fortifying coffee at an open air coffee bar overlooking Harbour Bridge. The spring weather was balmy and I was happy - who’d have ever thought my vacation to Australia would have brought me to the point I was getting married, and to the sweetest, most wonderful - if unusual - man I'd ever met? I certainly wouldn't have.

I sat down with Amber when we were planning the wedding and tried to explain my family to her.

"Well, see, my Gran - she died about ten years ago - and my Aunt Mary - she died about a month later - they lived together."

"What's so odd about that?" Amber wanted to know.

"Nothing, really - well - see - after my Grandad died, my Gran was really lonely, only she didn't want to get married again. My Aunt Mary hadn't ever been married, and she and my Gran just moved in together. They lived together for years and years."

Amber was still looking blank. I gave her a meaningful look and a wiggle of the eyebrows. "OH!" she exclaimed, finally getting it. "You mean they were lesbians. No biggie."

I rubbed my face, laughing, remembering a conversation or twelve I'd had with my dad about that very subject. "I used to go round and round with Dad about them. He'd get all het up and insist they weren't dykes, and I'd deliberately egg him on calling 'em lesbo's and such - then we'd end up laughing it off, but I know it bothered him, deep down."

She leaned across the table - we were in my kitchen at the time, a map spread out to hunt up a honeymoon spot. "Jeff," she touched my hand, "does it bother you, still, after they've both been gone?"
 

"It never really bothered me that much in the first place," I explained to her. "They loved each other, so I reckoned the whole thing was just, well, somehow meant to be, you know? And when the family split them up, neither one of them lived very long with the other one gone away."

"Why split them up?"

That was the sore subject with me. My dad hadn't been in favor of the family separating the two old ladies, but he was outvoted by his brother and sisters, so he finally went along with it. He'd always felt guilty about it, and even though he said it was all right, I knew there'd been words between the siblings about it. I just hoped they would bury the hatchet, so to speak, at our wedding reception. And not bury it in my head!

"They were really getting old, Amber, and you know how families think they know best how to take care of the oldsters - my dad's brother and sisters ganged up on him and persuaded him Aunt Mary'd be better in a home and Gran with my Uncle Ed's family - so they split them up. They were both gone real quick after that. It always bothered my dad."

"You don't think they'd be angry with you over something they disagreed with your dad about so long ago, do you?"

"In my family, babe, anything is possible! Have I told you about my Great Uncle Roscoe?" I flipped through one of the old photo albums that we'd been looking at earlier. There he was, I pointed to a picture of a muscular bloke wearing only posing trunks and about a million tattoes. "That's him."

Amber laughed, "Is he in a circus?"

"Yup," I answered, grinning at her, "Roscoe the Painted Man, but he's pretty well retired now. I think he's close to 85."

"I don't see that Jeff the Poofta is that unusual in comparison, sweetie," she said with one of her giggles.

I patted her hand, she was right, really. "Nope, I just fix peoples' pipes, nothing that exotic or strange." I pointed to another photo on the same page, "That's Great Aunt Ivy, right there with the elephant."

"Oh, Jeff!" Amber started laughing again, "Not the ballerina on the elephant."

"Um-hmm, that's her. She married Great Uncle Roscoe - said he fell in love with the elephant first, and her second."

We laughed and giggled through several pages of old photos of my relies. I suppose every family has its black sheep. But a painted man with an elephant-riding ballerina? Oh well. The reception would be interesting, that was for sure.

So Jeff had an interesting family - who didn't? Although mine didn't have quite as many characters as his did, I did have a great-grandma who invented an electric powered butterchurn and sold the patent for a nice sum of money back around the beginning of the 1900's. She said she'd be damned if she was going to break her back making butter when that newfangled electricity stuff could churn it just as well and faster. I always referred to her as "Grandma Butters" when I was little. It was years before I found out her real name was Emelina Sanderson. How boring, I thought, much preferring to think of her by the more exotic title.

The day of the wedding - the 30th of November - was almost upon us. I was taking a couple of days off work to get last minute details done, get the last of my stuff moved out of my flat and into the house with Jeff. I had checked every detail over and over - everything was going smoothly. The cake would be delivered to the reception along with the flowers and the other food. The chapel was all set, the dresses were perfect, everyone had RSVP'd, the weather was even being nice.

Then Greg and his boyfriend - significant other? - came from Brisbane and Jeff got all funny on me.

Man, seein' Greg after a couple of years was really strange. I was in love with Amber - hell, I loved her deeply - but Greg and Robert came over from their hotel the night of a dinner we had to welcome them, and I started feeling a kind of nostalgia, I guess you'd call it. I dunno, it wasn't even that pleasant because it made me feel uneasy.

Robert is tall and dark and one of those matinee idol kind of guys. I knew right off that Greg loved his looks as much as he loved him - hell, I'd been attracted to the dark beautiful ones myself often enough - but, for some reason, he struck me as kind of shallow, especially since he was a doctor. Of course, he is a plastic surgeon - specializes in prettying up faces and such - maybe that calls for a certain amount of self-worship, I dunno. All I knew was that seeing Greg with him made me feel jealous.

It also made me feel dumbfounded, because I never saw it coming. Plus, something of what I felt must've shown on my face because when Amber looked from me to them and back to me, I saw understanding and hurt in her face. My heart just plummeted - the last thing I wanted was for her to feel anything remotely like she had anything to worry about. And there I'd gone and done it, and without even realizing it. She took off for the back yard after a few minutes with some excuse or other, and I made my own excuses a minute or so later and followed her.

I didn't see her at first, it was so dark outside after the bright lights indoors, but then I heard the creak of the swing and realized where she was. I stumbled over her clogs but managed to get to the swing and sit down next to her. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, feeling really ashamed of myself, even though I hadn't said or done anything more than I've told you - it still was a kind of disloyalty to her, and I wanted to see how mad she was before I really put my foot in it. "I'm sorry," I finally said in a really low voice.

She nodded, looking up at the sky, "I know you are. I've been sitting here asking myself why it upset me to see that look on your face."

Oh, man - I felt awful. "Amber - luv, I don't know what happened there - I guess I just felt a little - I dunno - proprietary of Greg for some reason. But I don't love him - it's you I love."

She pushed the swing once more and we rocked back and forth in silence for a bit. I was just miserable. Mate, I felt lower than a snail's belly. I have no idea how I'd have felt if I'd actually acted on that momentary flash I'd had in the house - probably suicidal, judging from my feelings just from that small misstep. She put her foot out and stopped the swing. I looked up, finally daring to meet her eyes. Oh, Christ, she was crying. I can't stand that. I reached for her and she lifted a hand, fending me off. "Amber..."

"No, not yet - I want to know if you still have feelings for Greg or not, Jeff, because if you do, I won't stand in your way, I'll just pack my stuff back up and see if I can re-lease my flat and . . .and. . ." She sobbed once, but caught herself.

My heart lurched and broke. I slid over beside her and gathered her up. She didn't resist then, and let me hold her. I think I must've whispered how sorry I was and that it would never happen again and how stupid I was about a hundred times before she finally stopped crying and told me to just shut up and kiss her. "Really?" I wanted to know, "You forgive me?"

"Jeff, I over-reacted just a bit this evening too, y'know," she said, knuckling the tears off her cheeks, "I saw the look on your face, jumped to conclusions and ran off like a little scared rabbit instead of sticking around to see what was really happening, if anything was happening, which it wasn't"

"Well, yeah," I agreed, but I felt some further chastisement should be coming, after all, I felt that I'd really done something worthy of it. I told her as much.

She tipped her head up at me, trying to see my face in the dark with just the back porch light giving us a little illumination. "Punishment?" She got a wicked look on her face. "Okay, I can do that. When they leave, prepare to be chastised."

Does it sound perverted to admit that when she said that, my cock got as hard as a rock? I could barely walk, it was like a big lead pipe in my jeans the whole rest of the evening. I tried to keep my lower body hidden because we had company besides Greg and Robert - but I know Greg, eagle-eyed as he is, must've recognized my symptoms because I caught him winking at me a couple of times with this really knowing look on his face. I tried ignoring it. I tried thinking of unpleasant things, but it was no good. Little Jeff was up and there was nothing short of whatever my chastisement was gonna be that would make him lie down again.

When everyone finally left - I thought they'd never leave, mate! - Amber disappeared into the bedroom for a bit, then she came out and said, "I want you to go in the bedroom, take off all your clothes and lie down in the center of the bed. I don't want any arguments or questions or delay, understood?"

I looked at her - I nodded. Little Jeff strained against my jeans - I guess his way of nodding too. I went into the bedroom, took off all my clothes, and Little Jeff and I lay down in the middle of the bed. She had taken away the pillows, the spread, blanket and top sheet so just the fitted sheet was there. I waited. There was one lamp lit on the dresser and the two on either side of the bed as well. I waited. Little Jeff danced impatiently. No thoughts of anything rank or icky worked to get him to subside. When Amber came into the bedroom I didn't hear her at first, so when she snapped, "Give me your right wrist," I about wet my pants - if I'd been wearing any.

She took a scarf - one of hers - and tied my wrists to the bed frame at the top, and my ankles to the bed posts at the foot. Then she took a small pillow and shoved it under my bum, so my hips were angled up a bit. I was panting by then, unbelieveably excited. She just stood and looked me up and down for a long time. She pointed to Little Jeff, "Can't control that?"

I shook my head, "Mind of its own, y'know - and not much intellect." That was the last coherent sentence out of me for a long time.

Jeff really got into the spirit of the game. I had no idea he liked role play, but I sure took some mental notes that night, let me tell you. After I tied him down and stuffed the cushion under his ass, I could tell he was about ready to come right then, so I snapped out in my best drill sergeant voice (from any number of old films), "You will not come unless I tell you that you can, understood?"

He nodded. "Good," I snapped, "now here is how it's going to be. There will be no mooning over other men - especially those two - or there will be very serious consequences. If you agree, nod your head."

He nodded. Little Jeff nodded. I stifled a laugh with difficulty. Besides, I was pretty wet already just from contemplating what I was going to do during the couple of hours since our conversation in the back yard. I wanted to come as much as Jeff did, but I was determined to play with him a bit first. I opened the top drawer of my dresser and took out a leather strap. It was a slim leather belt from one of my dresses, but it snapped really loudly - Jeff's whole body jounced up off the bed when I snapped it the first time.

I ran the folded leather over his whole body, just lightly touching his chest and his face, then back along his throat - watching him gulp and lick his lips, watching his nipples get harder and his whole body come out in gooseflesh when I ever-so-lightly ran the belt down his tummy onto his belly and then down alongside his cock, which was upright, flat against his belly, strands of pearly pre-cum dribbling from it. I fought not to reach down and lick it off him. Later, I told myself firmly. Instead, I took the folded belt and ran it - feather light - over the cock head, down to the base, around his balls (watching them quiver), then down underneath along his perineum and down his left inner thigh.

I tickled the sole of his foot and he jerked. I shook the belt at him in a threatening manner and he screwed his eyes shut tight. I popped it. "None of that!" Wide blue eyes flew open and he didn't take them off me and what I was doing for the rest of the game. "Very good," I praised him, and leaned down to give his cock a little stroking with my fingers while he moaned in pleasure. "Verrrry good," I purred. Then I tickled the sole of his right foot and worked back up to the base of his dick again. I snapped the folded belt really loud, and when he jumped, I took it, unfolded it, and gave him a rap with it right where his hip joins his thigh. SNAP!

"Oh, God," he moaned, then bit his lip, knowing he wasn't supposed to say anything.

I gave him a stern look and rapped him on the left side in just about the same place. He held still for that one. "Good man," I praised him again. I leaned down this time and kissed him on the mouth - thoroughly. This was a double-edged sword, though, because I wanted to fuck him so badly by then I realized I was going to have to cut the game short or come in mid-air, so to speak, without him. I flung the belt across the room, climbed on the bed and straddled his thighs, sitting so my pussy hair brushed the base of his cock. "You know what you did," I said in a low voice, "and I accept your apology. Now here is the rest of your punishment."

His eyes were really wide by then. I had to work hard not to collapse in laughter because he looked really worried about what I was going to do, game or no game. I reached for his cock with great deliberation, took hold of the shaft, my fingers immediately covered with the pre-cum drooling from it, and jacked it a few times, moving just the way I knew he liked it best. His breathing was really uneven and ragged, his mouth slack as he heaved air into his lungs, and I couldn't prolong it any further. I held his cock in one hand, lifted up my hips, and sat down on it, taking it all the way inside me. He groaned. I groaned. I began to ride him.

I didn't let him loose, just sat on him and worked my body up and down, back and forth, around and around while he pulled against the ties and fought to touch me - until I was ready to come - and he was just about past that point - then I remembered, "Come now," I said hoarsely. And he did. And I did.

After I untied him, he just lay there for a long time, limp as a noodle, with me collapsed on top of him in pretty much the same state.

"That was unreal," he whispered after he finally got his breath back. He shifted so I was lying beside him with my head on his shoulder.

"It was," I agreed. I didn't want to move - I felt like I was floating, all my synapses still firing off tiny orgasmic bursts. He bent his head my direction and kissed me.

"I thought you were going to whip me with that belt," he admitted with a little post-traumatic laughter.

"Mmm, I thought about it, but that would have been counter-productive because I wouldn't know how hard to hit without disabling you."

He mulled that over for a while before he said, "I don't think I want to find that out, do you?"

"I'll let you know," I retorted, hiding a smile against his chest as I kissed it. I drifted off to sleep held against his side, listening to the reassuring thump of his heart. Sometimes you can learn the oddest things about people at the most unexpected times, can't you?