The Wedding Planner

3

Awoken to the sound of my alarm, I drag myself out of bed. 9am, my clock reads, much too early to get out of bed. Looking back at me in my mirror stands a sullen creature that is not a fan of mornings, she growls at me angrily. Today I meet Claire and Mark, my new clients. Claire is 34, Mark is a slightly older 39 – ten years my senior. From their picture they seem like a decent couple, although there seems to be a discomforting aura about this photo. I say this, because Mark is standing rather awkwardly at Claire's side, with his had laying loosely around her slim waist. If I had her for a fiancée, I'd surely grip her a bit tighter, as her beauty is one that belongs on catwalks and runways. Mark, is handsome too, his looks surely belonging on the cover of a GQ magazine. I inspect the picture, he's a silver fox undoubtedly, and clearly under the impression that he's still young from the curtains that hang from his face. She smiles vibrantly in the picture, a wide toothy grin resembling that of a Colgate advert. He doesn't smile at all, and instead stands besides his partner as if held at gunpoint to do so. After having my shower, I slipped on my black mini skirt and tights, with a white blouse hanging loosely over it, almost covering the skirt. I bashfully tuck it in out of shame, yet this only accentuates my large rump which I always try to hide. 8.30, too late to change. This will have to do.

We're meeting at a café in Chelsea. I always meet my clients before to familiarise myself with them and get a good understanding of their expectations from their wedding. Many wedding planners just get their clients to brief everything in an email. Not me, I'm old school. I prefer face to face because then you can get a real feel of the client's personalities, however from the initial meeting, I am often left to my own devices. As I approached the café, I eagerly anticipated what there might be like. A good looking couple nonetheless, and Claire seemed lovely over the phone. But I have no idea about what Mark is like. About 10 minutes go by and there's still no show. The waiter looks at me irritated as he brings me my second cup of tea, almost to scold me for taking up space in such a busy café. I smile apologetically. Suddenly, a couple burst through the café doors. An umbrella covers their face but the end of an argument can be heard throughout the restaurant.

'I bloody told you we'd be late!'

'Don't you yell at me!'

When the umbrella is closed and its wet remnants are chucked to the side of the café doors, the faces of my new clients are revealed. Claire, clearly flustered by her husband, has a bright red undertone expelling from her olive skin. She must be Greek, from the way her black long hair hangs at her shoulders, damped by the rain. She has a slim frame with a long black trench coat draping over her physique, and heeled boots that elongate her already long legs. Mark trails in behind her, he is grey all over, with a thick beard and stern face. His lips are tightly pinched together, as if refusing a smile, and his narrow eyes scan the environment, eyeing up his prey. We make eye contact, and I stand up to greet my new friends.

'Hi, I'm Quinn,'

'Quinn we are so sorry that we're late! The traffic was absolutely awful! I told Mark we should've left earlier,' Claire explained, shaking my hand eagerly. She has one of those posh accents that almost sound too posh to be true. She's privately educated for sure, a lady with elegance and class. I went to take Marks hand only to be met with a stern look, as if he was eyeing me up, sussing me out. To my surprise he leant in for a hug.

'Nice to finally meet you,' he whispered in my ear. Then his hand grazed my lower back, gliding over my bum. I pulled away suddenly and was met with an intense stare, a smirk forming across his face.

'Ok so let's talk business!' Claire exclaimed, clearly oblivious to her husband's actions. We all sat down at the table, Claire was to my right whilst Mark sat opposite me. I could feel his eyes scanning the upper half of my body.