I wanna kiss the bride

It’s been a while since I was in a church, years in fact.  I generally find them cold and uninviting, regardless of which ceremony is taking place.

Today, it’s a wedding and I loiter at the back, not wanting to be seen.  Oh, I’m sure I would be made welcome, but … I don’t want to offer my congratulations to the happy couple.  Sounds rather petulant, doesn’t it?  Truth is, I’m here because of the bride.

She takes my breath away with her stunning beauty; a perfect vision draped in virginal white.  Her shiny hair is swept up, twisted around a delicate spray of scented lilies.  Fine wisps brush across her creamy shoulders and my eyes follow the smooth lines, drifting lower to gaze upon the curves of her milky breasts. 

I know those breasts; have spent long nights worshipping them.  They are full and round and tipped with rosy nipples that strain and beg for attention. 

My traitorous mind floats back in time.  God, I adored her.  Adored the sweet smile she would flash me, the womanly curves of her body, the innocent child-like fascination, coupled with her intelligence.  Often we would argue, strong heated debates that would lead to passionate lovemaking.  How many guessed that her cool exterior hid a wild, animated lover?  She blew my mind.

I try not to listen to the sickly sweet vows they are pledging.  The groom looks awe-struck, gazing at her like she’s the only woman in the universe.  I want to stand up and scream ‘She’s mine!  I loved her first!’  But I don’t, instead I steady my breathing and straighten my shoulders.

It should be me.  I should be the one lifting her veil and kissing her ruby red lips, a seductive prequel to carnal celebrations.

God, I still want her.  I want to run down the aisle and plant my lips over hers, make her remember how good we were together, make her moan my name again.  Plunge my fingers into her heated wetness.   

Sometimes I wonder if Chakotay realises just how close we were.  Has she ever told him?  Does he realise I am the one who took his wife’s virginity?

I smirk at the irony.

My comm. badge bleeps discreetly and I walk outside, squinting in the bright sunlight.

“Admiral Janeway here, what is it?” I snap.

I hardly listen to my secretary’s nervous explanation.  Instead I’m conjuring up images of her lying naked over my desk.  She is new, fresh from the Academy, innocent, shy.  Mine.  Perhaps soon I will enjoy the sensation of her lips making love to me, see the heady sight of her blonde head moving forcefully between my open thighs.

I stifle the chuckle that rises in my throat, thinking how apologetic Owen had been, sending me a raw recruit.  You’d think after all these years he would know me better.

The church bells peal and I toss a final glance over my shoulder.  Goodbye Seven, have a happy life.



The End