>Today was the day.
>You gave a sharp gulp, looking in the mirror as you adjust your tie properly.
>It fit in snug as a bug, your colour-drained face a disconcerting contrast to the sharp-looking suit.
>The suit had gold-thread trim marking a path down the sleek sleeves of your arms.
>Your mother always was a woman of expensive tastes; while your father was a complete jew when it came to cash.
>Opposites attract, it seems.
>However, your hands are shaky; unsure whether it was your diabetes or your nerves telling you to eat something.
>You pillage your fridge for a quick pre-wedding snack.
>A few slices of lasagna are still wrapped in aluminum foil.
>Fuck it, you'll have to eat this on the go; you pick up a plastic fork and plate.
>Less than an hour until it starts.
 
>You weren't the best-liked kid in school.
>Had your heart broken so many times, the only thing holding it together right now was your rather frayed nerves and African children's tears.
>Don't try to think about that, Anon; surely this girl will be different.
>Hopefully.
>With one hand, you haphazardly jump over the door on the driver's side of your '76 Eldorado; the convertible was your pride and joy.
>You never ate in it since you and your father restored it on your 19th birthday.
>Fuck, this was a sexy car.
>Wish you were getting married to this thing than the woman you've only obscurely heard about.
>You don't even know her real name
>Just her small nickname, a moniker or some shit.
>"Rarity"
 
"Rarity."
 
>You keep repeating that name to yourself, your car soaring down the highway.
>The improvised wiring allowed you to connect your phone to the interior's sub-modern radio.
>You let various songs play through your speakers; only pausing at red lights to take a good glomp out of your cold lasagna.
>God, you should've microwaved it first.
>It's making you a little less nervous; always had to eat when you were nervous.
>It lead to some.. weight problems, here and there.
>You finally burned off the fat, but your self confidence was frayed because of it.
> Damn it, brain. Going back to being self-conscious.
> You finished your meal, licking your fingers so they don't stain your porcelain white interior.
> Doing a double-take to assure you didn't, you crumple up the lasagna plate and toss it in the nearby garbage bin.
 
>Well, it was a recycling bin.
>But you don't care, you seen that little fucked up triangle; before.
> Anyhow, you were right on time, it seems.
> The casual wedding music plays; you give a half-power walk down the aisle, past the pews of your family and hers.
> Looked rather aristocratic, from your point of view.
> You can only imagine the glamour of your mother's eyes, and the stiff sense of dread dwelling in your old man.
> You wait at the altar, subsequently as the pallid bride holding her bouquet came onto the scene.
> She's pale.
> Like, REALLY pale.
> You might ask if she was Irish, you hear they never did too well in sunlight.
> Clenching your teeth inside your mouth to keep from chattering, you lift up the veil of your bride.
> A dark azure gaze adores her visage; sleek raven-purple hair come out in a shapely brim, ending in curls beneath her hemmed bridesveil.
> You pause, looking her over as she does you, some calculating gaze-gandering taking place.
> You're fairly thrilled about your results, you were expecting some buck-toothed hick-chick beneath the veil, everything went a lot better than expected.
>Unfortunately, your mystery fiance' doesn't seem to share your sentiment; as a light quirk of a brow avails. You've seen that look before, right after they..
 
"Shall we proceed?"
 
>The scathing voice of the minister breaks you from your self-doubt; looking back to him, and then your to-be wife.
 
"I, Anon. Y. Mouss'e, take you, Rarity, to be my lawfully wedded wife. To have and hold, from this day forward; for better or for worse; for richer or poorer; in sickness and in health; until death do us part."
 
>People didn't seem to notice or care that you used her nickname.
>Thank goodness for that, at least.
>The recession went on as planned, you and Rarity had a -- however awkward -- conversation about your lives.
>She was a fledgeling fashion designer, hoping to make it big in the city.
>You had a much less ambitious goal as a barber; though the two seemed to go hand-in-hand.
> Then you two talked about music tastes.
 
>Your music tastes was more newer rock and similar; Chuck Berry here, Contours there; simple blue-collar type music.
 
>Her music tastes were a lot more sharper, refined. She went on about numbers of symphonies and other stuff that you didn't know what the fuck was.
>You didn't pay too much attention, you were far more focused on her eyes, her almost unnaturally pale flesh, her bust, everything else.
 
>You knew what you had to do.
 
>By nightfall, when most of the people had already left; you took your new wife out to your car.
 
>She seemed fairly impressed with the model, and how much care you've put into it.
>"It's almost as if you treated this car better than you would a real woman!"
>You both laugh, her genuinely, you.. not so much.
"..Heh.. Yeah."
>Fortunately it went mostly unnoticed.
>You don't know how she'll react to this, but dammit, you have to try.
>This place was important to you, and you'd like to share it with your beloved.
 
>By nightfall, when most of the people had already left; you took your new wife out to your car.
 
>She seemed fairly impressed with the model, and how much care you've put into it.
>"It's almost as if you treated this car better than you would a real woman!"
>You both laugh, her genuinely, you.. not so much.
"..Heh.. Yeah."
>Fortunately it went mostly unnoticed.
>You don't know how she'll react to this, but dammit, you have to try.
>This place was important to you, and you'd like to share it with your beloved.
 
>"So Anon.. where might we be going?"
"Someplace special."
>"Oh..?"
"Yeah, you'll see when we get there."
>She looked rather uncomfortable at your ambiguity, and you wouldn't really blame her.
> Doubt you'd be thrilled to get in a car with someone who has been a loving stranger -- and you've barely known for a day, to add -- take you on some night-time stroll in the dark.
>Just thinking it from her perspective gives you second thoughts on if you should go through with it.
 
"We're here."
 
>You finally pulled up in front of a large building, wood and concrete you observe from the outside.
>You open your car door, and quickly went around to open it for her, like a gentleman.
>Last thing you do before leaving the car is activating the convertible's hard-top and locking it.
>God, you hope it doesn't get stolen or broken into.
>This is a bad neighborhood, you're kicking yourself as-is for bringing he here while still in moderately well-dressed clothing.
>Would be absolutely fine to get gunned down when you leave.
>It'd be like the beginning of Batman, but without Batman.
>Because his parents would be fucking dead before they even thought of conceiving him.
 
>You two went through the dark alley.
>Eeriness intensifies.
>She practically clutches onto your side, the woman doesn't like dark allies than you do.
>Just around the corner and..
>Music was bleating outside the pseudo-entrance.
>In the darkest places, just how you remember it.
 
>You went to turn the knob, hearing it click; smiling as it revealed the same sights as always.
>The song is now louder, turned full blast as the scene erupts in a flash of colours and movement.
>Dozens of couples; some swingers, some not; coddled together in a large basemented corridor. (subject related)
>They were acting out a bastardized mix of erotic and ballroom dancing.
>Heh, ball-room.
>Rarity seems taken back from this, though you turned to her.
 
"Would you care to try?"
 
>"Wh- NO!"
> Some of the couples looked at her.
>At least have an indoor voice, damn.
> She appeared fairly incline to leave, and almost certainly would if there wasn't the aspect of prowling a dark alley alone to get out.
>She cringed at the shockwave of attention that she made.
>"Oh uh.. no! I don't feel comfortable showcasing myself!"
>Her cheeks turned a pale red, almost pink, blush.
>God DAMN that's adorable.
>Makes you try all the harder.
 
"C'mon, dear. Let's just try, hm? I'll help you with the steps if you don't feel confident, alright?"
 
>Reluctantly, she agrees.
>Picking up a bottle of cheap wine from the owner, you guide Rarity to a less crowded part of the corridor; easing up her feelings about messing up in front of people.
"We work like a single being, pushing ourselves into eachother and pulling out at a time."
>You press yourself against her, she seems to not get the concept.
>Even when she does, her own movements are a lot more modest, passive compared to yours.
>She goes with your movements, like a ripple in the water, spreading the 'energy' out.
>At the very least, she knows how to ballroom dance; so she's taking what she's learned with this.
>Feels a little less awkward, though she doesn't have that 'soul' for it.
>Jesus, the hell are you, a barber or a hippie?
 
>She had finally gotten the hang of one dance until another song blared through the aging speakers.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RoDPPgWbfXY
 
>Oh SHIT
>This was your jam
>Taking Rarity in-hand, you get your shit together in the corridor.
>Taking off your shoes, as she does her high heels; swaying your shoulders, she immediately follows suit.
>Her dress flutters in her awkward attempt to follow your own movements; only much more passive.
>It wasn't horrible, then again you aren't doing much better.
>You twirled her hand over her head, the rhythym of the song begins to match your repetitions.
>Step, twirl, left-right; twirl, twist, switch, repeat.
>The swaying of her curves, however starved for by wearing a borderline Cinderella-esque Victorian dress, keeps your attention here and there.
>The woman, no your WIFE, is starting to get some soul in her.
>Whatever the hell that means.