The air in the dressing room was still thick with the heat of our reckless sex, the scent of Sara's perfume and our mingled juices from orgasms hanging heavy around us.
The sudden *knock, knock* from moments ago still echoed in my mind, and my heart pounded as I stared at the door, frozen in place.
"Ohh sh—" I started, my voice barely a whisper, panic rising at the thought of the waitress barging in.
"Hello, Miss Sara?" the waitress's voice came again from the other side, polite but carrying a slight edge of urgency.
Before I could finish my curse, Sara propped herself up on one elbow on the plush white couch, her bridal gown still bunched around her waist, her skin flushed and glowing.
"Yes, what is it?" she called, her tone sharp, like the interruption was a personal offense.
The waitress hesitated, her voice muffled through the door. "Miss Sara, the guests in the hall are waiting for you. How much time will it take for the preparations?"
