First Impressions

1. Rayo

Every strand of hair on my body stands at attention as the gentle ocean breeze whispers to the core of my being. I have been looking forward to this very moment. Last night, our friends made jest of our pre-marital vow for the zillionth time. Keeping that promise has been a struggle, but here we are.

Craning my neck from my bouquet of rare Juliet rose flowers, our eyes lock and I smile. His honey-brown eyes reciprocate the joy in my soul, as if sharing the memory from the night before. The dimples on his cheek becomes emphasized, not wanting to feel left out.

I can't believe this is happening; Femi and I jumping the broom, it's overwhelming.

"Do you Oluwafemi Tokunbo, take Motunrayo Jose to be your wife, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?" the priest asks.

I stand rooted to the spot.

My heart has relocated to my ears, I can hear it beating louder than ever. Would he remember the times I told him I was done with us? Or when I said I was not sure we were doing the right thing.

"I do," Femi says.

Inhaling deeply, I feel my heart return to its position. My ears pick up the rustling palm leaves waving, happy at our union.

The priest turns to me, "Do you, Motunrayo Jose, take Oluwafemi Tokunbo to be your husband, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?"

Beaming, eyes fixated on my husband-to-be, I reply softly, "I do".

"You may now kiss the bride," the priest declares.

Femi grins at me, happy to obey the priest's command. Our guest cheers us on. Everyone would be watching us kiss? I turn my head to the side.

"You go girl!" Mabel screams. I withhold myself from grimacing, taking a mental note to have a one on one discussion with her on how important it is for a chief bridesmaid to keep her cool, always. Tricia as usual is composed.

Femi touches me and I sigh closing my eyes. He wraps his left arm around me, while his right works magic on my nape as his lips finds mine.

Our lips meet and glory!

The wait was worth it. Snickers, my favorite chocolate bar, cannot compare with the taste of his lips.

We savor each other's lips amidst shouts and applause from our less than a hundred guests.

"Please . . ." The priest's voice cuts through the haze, "you can continue later. We need to conclude this service."

It's our wedding! He has fulfilled his duty; bind us, not tell us what to do.

"Hmm . . ." Femi's tongue is unrelenting in the slow and sensuous pursuit of mine. Our tongues go in fruitful pursuit of what is hidden in every nook and cranny of our mouth.

How could I stop? Even if I wanted to, he is now my head and I am submitting to him. If only our guests would leave already.

This moment is pure bliss, keeping the vow was worth it. We have waited for this for far too long.

Lost in passion - we both are – I feel his hand on my waist starts gliding down to cup my derrière. The deafening sound of our guests bellowing causes me to furrow my brows. Don't they want us to have a happy ending?

The harsh and disruptive sound of my alarm clock jerks my eyes open.

"Shit."

Wincing, I stretch through the empty space beside me.