The Bridegroom

A shriek, followed by a scream, and then a furious clawing. Teeth biting into skin, nails raking through soft flesh, droplets of blood, streaking a rose path. The slither of sweat-stained bodies, fingers wriggling into soft, wet crevices. His face, pressed against her, her legs, splayed over him. A shudder, that ran up the length of their bodies, a cry and then - release.

They fell apart, panting. And there, sprawled across the gleaming white ceramic tiles, legs tangled near the porcelain basin, fingers clutching the towel rail, they watched each other warily.

She was the first to get up, pushing back the sweaty, strands of hair. She viewed herself in the mirror, hanging over the sink, straightening her dress, pain-stakingly wiping away the errant smears of lipstick and mascara. And then, carefully stepping over him, she left.

He watched her leave, hips sashaying under her tight dress, stilletoes click-clacking across the tiles. Then slowly, he rose, tucked in his shirt, pulled up his trousers, smoothened his hair.

Outside, the party was at it's peak - a crescendo of noise - gossip, flirtation, music blaring through the odd silences in the midst of loud, raucous conversations. A fat man, with heavy jowls, passed him as he entered the garden, clapping him loudly on the back. "Great party isn't it?"

He nodded, caught a whiff of alcohol from the man's breath, and made his way across. He saw her, by the pool, next to a elderly grey-haired old man, her head bent to catch his words. He saw her elderly companion look up, notice him, watched the old, grey eyes narrow in disdain, long, elegant fingers grip her arm in a possessive way. And even from where he stood, he saw the gleam of gold between her fingers, a marriage band.

His cellphone rang, he reached for it. A girl's voice poured out - soft and seductive, slightly accusing.

"Where are you?"

"At the party of course." He laughed.

"Really? I've been looking for you all over!"

"I'm right here, by the pool."

There was a short silence. "Stay right there. I'll be over in a second."

He smiled, put the phone away, and grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, as a beautiful young girl made her way to him, her black halter-neck dress swirling as she reached up to kiss him.

She frowned though, smelling an unfamiliar scent about him. Something was amiss; a slight crease formed between her delicate, arched eyebrows, her eyes watchful. But a moment later, they were overwhelmed in a press of people - uncles, aunts, cousins.

"Congratulations, both of you!" An elderly aunt reached up, to pat his cheek, and pressed a gift into her hands. "Such a lovely couple."

When they were free, he noticed the other woman, still by the pool, watching them. "Who is she?" He asked his bride-to-be.

"My sister." She smiled, and pulled him along. "Come, meet her."