About Carl - 5. A Summer Wedding

The float plane climbed up and away from the dock and then banked slowly over the spectacular skyline of Vancouver. It was my first trip to the West Coast, and as we flew low over Stanley Park and the Lions Gate Bridge, I watched the rising sun illuminate the city and the water of the harbour. It was a beautiful sight.

I had flown in the night before from Toronto and was taking a short trip across the Georgia Strait to Victoria, the capital city of British Columbia, located at the southern tip of Vancouver Island. Carl would be waiting there to pick me up and take me to Lisa's parents' farm in Duncan, a little town of about five-thousand people in the beautiful Cowichan Valley, about sixty kilometers north of Victoria. Carl and Lisa's wedding was to take place there the next day. I had chosen this roundabout route over a direct Toronto to Victoria flight on Carl's advice; he said the float-plane trip over the strait that separated Vancouver Island from the mainland was unmatched for scenery. He was right. The view through the small window as we flew low over the ocean was breathtaking.

As the plane crossed over the Gulf Islands, the beautiful view helped to distract me from the upcoming wedding. As best man, I obviously had a prominent role, but I had mixed feelings about participating in Carl's marriage ceremony. I wanted to be gracious and charming, but I was in an awkward situation. Many times over the last few weeks I imagined a scene unfolding – a staple of corny movies – where the minister says, “If any of you can show just cause why they may not lawfully be married, speak now, or else forever hold your peace.” In my imagining, all the eyes of the congregation would turn towards me accusingly, and a hush would fall over the church as they saw the guilt written on my face.

I had professed my love for Carl when he had visited me last year in Toronto, but he had made it clear that marriage to Lisa was what he wanted, and a relationship with me beyond that of friends was just not possible. I had to try to make the best of it or lose his friendship forever.

The plane came in for a landing on the still waters of Victoria Harbour, the ornate Provincial Legislature building and the imposing Empress Hotel forming an impressive backdrop to the busy marina, where the plane taxied up to the wharf. I could see Carl standing near the dock. I smiled, glad to see him as always. I stepped off the plane, my backpack in one hand and a garment bag with my rented tuxedo in the other. Carl waved and walked down to greet me.

“How are you doing?” he asked. “Did you have a good flight? Isn't the view of the islands out of this world?” He was grinning and talking a mile a minute, obviously excited about the wedding and glad to see me. “I'm so glad you're here.” He gave me a big hug.

“It's great to see you, Carl. Yes, the flight was amazing. Here, take my tux.” I handed him the garment bag, and we walked to his parked car.

“My parents have been out here for a couple of days already. They're doing a little sight-seeing on the island; they drove up to Nanaimo this morning,” he said. “Lisa and her family can't wait to meet you. I've been telling them all about you, and they really want to see you in person.

“I hope I can live up to the advance billing,” I said, a little uneasily.

“It takes about an hour to get to Duncan,” he said. “We're taking the Malahat Highway along the coast; you won't believe it until you see it. Amazing scenery.”

Carl was right about the road, a twisting two-lane highway that took us through mountainous terrain hugging the eastern coast of Vancouver Island. It was shrouded in fog, with dense Douglas-fir rainforest crowding up on the landward side, and sheer cliffs falling away to the ocean on the other. I stared out the window in awe at the passing sights, while Carl babbled on about Lisa and the wedding.

“The rehearsal is at a little church in Duncan this afternoon at four o'clock,” Carl said. “Dr. O'Connor and his wife – Lisa's mum and dad – are having a big party tonight at the farm for all of my family and the out-of-town guests. We're all staying at the Best Western in Duncan. You and I are sharing a room tonight. My brother Steve is here with his wife; they got in yesterday. Everyone's out at the farm already. I thought we'd go to the hotel first to dump your stuff, maybe let you take a shower or whatever, and then head out.”

We pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. Carl helped me with my bags and showed me to our room. It was clean and modern, with two double beds.

“I think I will take a shower,” I said to Carl. “It would be nice to clean up and change clothes before I meet everyone.”

“No problem. I'll just watch TV until you're ready.”

As I stripped off my clothes and climbed under the hot water, I could hear Carl talking loudly from the next room. “I can't wait for you to meet Lisa. I really hope you like her.”

“I'm sure I will,” I yelled back from the shower. “If she sees something in you, I guess we'll get along fine.” I think I sounded convincing, but I had doubts. I put those thoughts out of my mind and concentrated on being a pleasant guest and a friendly, outgoing member of the wedding party.

With me cleaned up, shaved, and in fresh clothes, we headed back to the car. Carl was explaining the history of Lisa's family, the O'Connors. “Dr. O'Connor moved out here from England after the war. He was one of the only doctors in the Cowichan Valley for years; he's delivered most of the babies in and around Duncan. They bought a farm out on Cowichan Bay years ago. Now that he's semi-retired, he raises horses.”

We pulled off the highway near the outskirts of Duncan and drove up a long lane between split-rail fences. Lush green pastures spread out around us, where horses grazed in groups of two or three. At the end of the lane was a big white, clapboard farmhouse with a porch that wrapped around the house on three sides. Barns and outbuildings were clustered in the near distance. One structure, which I learned later was the horse arena, was decorated in white bunting and balloons. The wedding reception would be held there the next night.

As we pulled up in front of the house, a couple in their mid 50s came down from the porch to meet us. The man was tall and distinguished-looking with an air of authority about him. He brushed back his grey hair and adjusted his glasses. “You must be Mark,” he said, extending his hand to me. “I'm David O'Connor. This is my wife, Sheila.”

Mrs. O'Connor, a tall, slim woman who looked a little like Princess Ann, stepped forward and wrapped me in an enthusiastic hug. “Welcome, Mark. We're so glad to meet you. I hope you had a good trip.”

“Very good, thank you,” I said. “You have a beautiful home, Mrs. O'Connor.”

“Thank you,” she said, “but please call us David and Sheila.”

Mrs. O'Connor put her arm in mine and steered me up onto the porch, while Carl and Dr. O'Connor followed. Dr. O'Connor placed a drink in my hand and said “We're well into the gin-and-tonics. You'll need one yourself before we head into town for the rehearsal.”

Carl and I were standing side by side on the porch, drinks in hand. Mrs. O'Connor looked at us and said, “My, aren't you two the most handsome young men.” I blushed deeply. She was right, at least about her future son-in-law. Carl looked great, his khaki pants riding low on his hips, a white button-down shirt showing off his tan skin. He laughed, flashing his perfect smile, and said, “Wait until you see us in our tuxedos tomorrow.” I blushed again.

The screen door opened and a young woman stepped out onto the porch. She looked beautiful in a floral sun dress, her shoulder-length blonde hair falling around her fine features, her blue eyes sparkling. “You must be Mark,” she said, kissing me on the cheek. “I'm Lisa. This is my sister, Janet.” A teenager, who looked about seventeen years old, stepped forward and shook my hand. Lisa said, “Welcome to Duncan. I'm so glad to finally meet you. Carl talks about you all the time; it's nice to meet you in person.”

“It's nice to meet you, finally”, I said. “Carl has told me so much about you. And thank you and your family for your hospitality.”

“Grab your drink,” Lisa said. “Carl and I will show you around the farm.” She linked one arm in mine and the other in Carl's, and the three of us headed off toward the farm's outbuildings. She showed us the stables where the family kept quarter-horses that she and her sister rode in equestrian competitions. They both were show-jumpers, but, as Lisa explained, “I've had to give most of that up since I went off to university.”

We wandered through the indoor arena. A plywood floor had been laid over the sand, and the rafters were festooned with garlands of white netting and strings of electric lights. A crew was setting up tables and chairs for the reception. On one wall was a display of dozens of red and blue ribbons. “Those are mine and Janet's from our competition days in high school. I used to ride Stella; she was my favourite horse. She's too old for that now, but I still ride her a little when I'm home. She should be over here in the paddock.”

We walked through the arena to a fenced-in area where a chestnut mare was grazing. Lisa clucked quietly, and the horse perked up its ears and trotted over to the fence, gently nuzzling her hand. I glanced over at Carl; he was looking at Lisa with a look of adoration on his face. He was clearly in love with her, and I had a momentary twinge of jealousy. I wanted, more than anything, for Carl to look at me that way.

Jesus, get a grip, man. They're getting married tomorrow. Stop this nonsense, I thought.

Lisa scratched the horse behind the ears, turned to us and said, “We'd better get back to the house. We have to be at the church for the rehearsal in two hours. Mom has some sandwiches set out for lunch.”

She took Carl's hand and set off for the main house, while I followed. When we got there, Mrs. O'Connor had set out a small buffet on the porch with sandwiches and cookies and a big pitcher of lemonade. “Help yourselves, everyone,” she said. “Mark, you must be starving. Here, take a plate.”

The rest of the afternoon went by in a flurry of activity. After lunch, we drove into Duncan to the little 19^th Century wooden church where the O'Connors worshipped. The minister greeted us warmly and said to me, “You must be Mark Nielsen. Welcome to Duncan. It's good that you were able to be here for Carl.”

Speak now, or else forever hold your peace.

“Thank you, sir,” I replied. “I'm glad to be here.”

The minister took us through the ceremony, outlining my role as best man and Janet's as maid of honour. It wasn't going to be hard to remember. My job was merely to stand beside Carl at the front of the church during the ceremony, hand him the ring at the appropriate time, and sign the register as an official witness. I didn't think I would screw it up.

When the rehearsal was over, we returned to the farm for the barbecue. A small crowd had aready gathered, mostly friends and family of Carl's from Ontario. I spotted Carl's parents on the porch as we pulled up.

“Mark!” said Carl's mother as I stepped out of the car. “How are you? We haven't seen you in ages!”

“I'm very well, Mrs. Lockhart,” I said as she took me in her arms and hugged me. “Hello, Mr. Lockhart,” I said as Carl's father stepped forward and shook my hand. “It's good to see you again.”

“Hello, Mark. It's good to see you, too. Diane and I brought out a few cases of Ontario wine to show these BC wine snobs that we know a thing or two,” he said. “Come and let me pour you a glass.”

The farm looked beautiful in the evening light. The trees around the house were hung with paper Chinese lanterns. As the sun set slowly over the mountains to the west of the farm, happy people milled about with plates full of food. Dr. O'Connor cooked steaks on an enormous charcoal grill. There was beer cooling in a metal horse trough full of ice, and Mr. Lockhart was plying everyone with wine. A portable stereo on the porch played classic rock quietly in the background. Carl and Lisa stood under a tree, hand in hand, smiling and chatting with the guests, many of whom one or the other was meeting for the first time. They looked beautiful together. Carl turned and saw me looking at him. He smiled at me, a look of genuine contentment. I smiled back, glad that he was happy.

The wine flowed freely, and we drank late into the night. Lisa and her sister retired early; they had a big day of hair and makeup appointments in town the next day and wanted to be well rested. The crowd thinned out as guests made their way back to the hotel in Duncan. Mrs. Lockhart looked at her watch and said, “My goodness, it's getting late. We need to get you boys back to the hotel. It's a big day tomorrow.”

Steve's wife and Mrs. Lockhart were sober enough to drive, so we all said goodbye to the O'Connors and piled into the cars that took us back to the hotel. In the lobby we said goodnight to Carl's parents, and Steve and his wife made their way to their room. Carl unlocked the door to our room, and we walked in, a little unsteady on our feet.

We hadn't had much of a chance to talk. When Carl closed the door behind us, we were alone for the first time since early that morning. I sat on my bed while Carl flopped into an armchair. He looked at me for a long time and then said, “Well, what do you think of Lisa?”

“She's great, Carl. You're very lucky to be marrying her.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yes, I really do. She's smart, she's funny, she's good-looking – she's perfect.”

“I'm glad you think so, Mark. It's really important to me that you like her.”

“Why is that so important?”

“I don't know. You're my best friend. I want you to get along with my wife.”

“I'm flattered, but if I didn't like her, would you call off the wedding?”

“What? No, of course not. Fuck.” He was quiet for a moment. “I've got to take a leak,” he said. He stood up unsteadily and went into the bathroom. He left the door open, and I could hear him pissing into the toilet. An image came into my mind of him standing there, his pants undone, his cock in his hand.

For god's sake, Mark, stop it. I shook my head to dispel thoughts of Carl and his dick.

I sat on the end of the bed in a gloomy mood, wondering how the hell I had gotten myself into this situation. I was serving as best man at the wedding of my friend, a man I was in love with, a man who had shared my bed not too long ago. I closed my eyes and groaned. My head was spinning a bit from the wine.

I felt the mattress sag as Carl sat down on the bed beside me. I opened my eyes and looked at him. The only light in the room came through the open bathroom door. “Well, Carl,” I said quietly. “This is it. You're getting married tomorrow.”

He looked back at me, his dark eyes searching mine. “Mark...,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I ...”

Suddenly he leaned in and kissed me on the lips. He reached his hand around to the back of my neck, and pulled me closer to him. He kissed me again, passionately, his tongue probing my mouth. I sucked on it greedily, my own tongue duelling with his. His mouth tasted like steak and red wine.

Alarm bells were going off in my brain. What the hell were we doing? He was getting married tomorrow. I broke off the kiss, backing away slightly to look him in the eyes. “Carl,” I said, “This is crazy. We shouldn't be doing this.”

“Shut up,” he said, and pushed me backwards onto the bed. He climbed on top of me and kissed me again. I kissed him back enthusiastically. He sat up, straddling me, and began to unbutton my shirt. I ran my hands up his legs to his crotch, where his erection strained behind the zipper of his pants. Staring intently into his eyes, I rubbed his hard dick through the fabric.

He leaned over me and took one of my nipples in his mouth, biting gently with his teeth and sucking. Intense flashes of pleasure rushed through me. I moaned as I slid one hand around the back of his head, weaving my fingers in his hair.

He stopped for a moment and took off his shirt, as I struggled out of the sleeves of my own clothing. Then he was back on top of me, kissing me deeply, his tongue demanding entry to my mouth, his bare chest on mine, our hard cocks rubbing together through our pants.

His lips moved down my neck, then lower over my chest, my belly, tracing my chest hair with his tongue. He reached down and undid my belt. Unfastening the waistband of my pants, he slowly pulled the zipper down, smiling at me as I moaned in pleasure. My erection jutted out, stretching the fabric of my briefs. I just about went out of my mind with pleasure as he bent over and kissed the head of my dick through the white fabric.

I had fantasized for years about this moment, and now it was happening.

With both hands he grasped the waist of my pants and underwear and pulled them down. I lifted my ass off the mattress to make it easier for him. As my clothing slipped down around my knees, my hard cock sprang free, and he gently, reverently, took it in his hand. Our eyes met in a moment of complete connection, and he smiled at me.

“Carl,” I whispered.

“Shhhh,” he said.

He bent down and kissed the tip of my cock.

“Fuck,” I said.

He opened his mouth and slipped my cock between his lips. The feeling was unbelievable. His warm, wet mouth encircled my cockhead, and he gently sucked on it. I moaned and arched my back, trying to drive my dick further into his mouth. He slid his mouth down the shaft and gagged a little as the head hit the back of his throat. He backed off, then returned to ease my cock back into his mouth, a little more carefully this time.

I moaned and reached my hand down to caress his head, as he softly, delicately slid my cock in and out of his mouth, stopping occasionally to lick the head.

“My god, Carl,” I said, “that feels so ... fuck ... Carl ...”

Carl stopped sucking and stood up. He reached down and pulled my pants completely off so I was lying, naked and hard, on the bed in front of him. He undid his own belt and pushed down his pants, stepping out of his clothes. He stood in front of me, completely naked, his hard dick jutting straight out in front of him, bobbing up and down a little in time with his heartbeat. He looked magnificent in the dim light, his skin shining with a faint sheen of sweat, his muscular chest heaving as he breathed deeply. A drop of liquid was glistening on the head of his cock.

He climbed back up on the bed and swung his body around so that he was facing my feet. He bent down and took my cock in his mouth again, and positioned himself so that his own cock was over my face. I reached up with one hand and grasped it, aiming it. I opened my mouth and took it between my lips, tasting the salty fluid leaking from the slit. I sucked at it greedily. I had fantasized so often about doing this that it didn't seem real, now that it was actually happening. Carl, the man I loved, was naked in bed with me, his cock in my mouth. My head was spinning.

I pulled my head away and tongued his balls. A faint musky scent filled my nose as I licked back up the shaft of his dick and sucked the head back into my mouth. He began to fuck my mouth, and I gagged as his cock went deep. I encircled the base with my hand to control the depth of his thrusts, and gradually we established a comfortable rhythm. He moved in and out of my mouth, all the time continuing to suck on my own cock.

He started to moan and lifted his head off my cock. He said, in a low, guttural voice, “Mark... I'm going to come.” I reached both my hands up and held his hips, pulling him deeper into my mouth to signal to him that I was ready. I worked his cock frantically with my lips and tongue.

“Fuck,” he yelled, and his leg muscles tensed, his back arched. He was coming in my mouth, pulse after pulse of warm, thick semen flooding the back of my throat. I swallowed it all as I continued sucking him while his orgasm subsided.

He lay still, on top of me, his cock still hard in my mouth, twitching occasionally. He slowly pulled his cock out of my mouth and rolled onto his side. “Let me finish you,” he said.

He reached out and grasped my cock in one hand and began to stroke me. He moved his head between my legs and began to lick my balls while he continued to move his hand up and down my shaft. It didn't take long. “I'm coming,” I said, and then immediately erupted in his hand. My cum shot out over my chest, the last few spurts dripping down his fingers, as I lay on my back, gasping.

I lay on the bed for a long time, my mind empty, my body sated. Carl got up and went into the bathroom; I could hear the water running as he cleaned himself up. As my brain came back into focus, the seriousness of what we had just done became apparent. Carl returned to the bedroom after a few moments alone in the bathroom, and climbed onto the other bed. I sat up and turned to face him.

“Carl,” I said, “What just happened?”

“Mark, I can't talk about this right now,” he said. “I think I seriously fucked up.”

“You didn't want this to happen?” I said.

“No, I wanted it. I've wanted it for a long time. I enjoyed it. But I promised myself that I wouldn't do this. Something happens when we're alone together that I can't seem to control. I hate that I can't control it. But I'm getting married tomorrow, and I've made a commitment to Lisa. I want this marriage to work. I need to pull myself together. You need to pull it together, too.”

“But ...”

“Please Mark, leave it alone. Don't make it worse than it already is. We can talk about it all you want some other time, but I need your help now. I need you to promise that you'll never say a word about this to anyone. If our families, Lisa's family, found out ...”

“Carl, I love you, and I'd do anything for you. I feel like shit right now, but I'll do whatever you want. I promise. I don't want this to get out either.”

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “We need to get some sleep. We have a wedding to get through.”

I went into the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror for a long time, trying to make sense of the situation. I was the best man at a wedding that was to take place in about twelve hours, and I had just sucked off the groom while he gave me a hand-job. If I had seen that written as the synopsis of a porn movie plot, I would have scoffed; it sounded like a ridiculous cliché. And yet, here I was, in that very situation, looking at myself in disbelief, the taste of him still in my mouth, my cum drying on my chest. Carl was right; if anyone found out, it would turn into a major scandal, and a lot of people would be hurt and embarrassed. I didn't want that to happen, least of all to Carl. I had to buck up and do my duty.

I took a quick shower to clear my head, and returned to the room. Carl was apparently asleep in the other bed. I climbed under the covers of my own bed, and tried to put the anxiety out of my mind. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep.

The day of the wedding is a blur in my memory. I woke up that morning with a serious hangover, a result of the bottle of pinot noir that Mr. Lockhart had set aside for me at the barbecue: “A little present from Diane and me for our son's best friend.” Carl was feeling the effects of the wine, too. We didn't talk much as we got dressed and made ourselves ready to join Carl's parents for breakfast.

For the rest of the day, Carl and I were rarely alone together. We put on our tuxedos and were shuttled to the church, where the guests had already gathered. Just before the ceremony was to start, we had a moment alone in an anteroom off the sanctuary where we waited for our cue to enter and stand in front of the congregation. We looked at each other awkwardly, not saying a word. I stepped towards him, tears welling up in my eyes, and hugged him tightly. “Don't worry,” I whispered into his ear. I stepped back and wiped my eyes, trying to compose myself.

From the moment we walked out into the church, everything was, thankfully, on autopilot. I didn't have to make any decisions, which was fortunate given the mental turmoil I was going through. I just followed directions from the minister: stand here, present the ring, sign this, smile for the camera. The ceremony went without a hitch, and we were taken afterwards to a nearby park for photographs. We were then driven back to the farm for the reception. Carl was so busy with Lisa and the guests that I never had another moment alone with him. Fortunately, Carl and Lisa had decided to forgo speeches, except for brief remarks from the bride and groom, so I was spared the agony of having to stand up and talk to the assembled guests about Carl and me. I'm not sure I could have done it without crying.

Carl and Lisa left the reception later that night for their suite at the hotel in Duncan. They were flying out of Victoria the next day for their honeymoon in Scotland. I returned to the hotel alone and lay down in the bed where Carl and I had been the night before, trying not to think about the fact that he was in another room a few floors above me, making love to his new wife. I couldn't sleep; I remember watching the Three Stooges on the hotel TV late into the night, wiping away tears.

The next day, Mr and Mrs Lockhart drove me to the airport to catch my flight back to Toronto. We said goodbye and I walked up the ramp to the departure lounge. The events of the weekend were weighing heavily on me. I could barely believe what had happened. Carl and Lisa were married now, and in a few hours would be heading together to this same airport to begin their honeymoon and their new lives as a married couple. I couldn't imagine what was going through his mind.

Alone on the long flight home, I tried to figure out a way forward for myself. Carl was right, of course; if our families learned of what Carl and I had done, the shame would be unbearable for them. If Lisa found out, it would mean the end of their marriage. Could I continue to be friends with Carl after this? Could we carry on like nothing had happened?

There was a lot at stake if I didn't handle this right. I wasn't sure I was up to it.