Go to the reception

Chuckling to yourself at the naked bride blushing under her veil, you want to see how the reception goes.

"Here," you approach the lady you stripped earlier, now dressed in the bride's underwear, "you tell me where the reception is, and I'll get you your purse."

"Thanks, sug," she takes your hand, "it's at 432 Peachtree Court." You walk over to the alley where you see the homeless woman, now in the woman's blue dress, and take the woman's purse back from her and give it to its owner.

Still blushing about being naked except for a different woman's underwear, the woman jogs barefoot down the sidewalk and unlocks her car at the end of the street. You follow her, and get into her passenger seat.

"So, why are you at the wedding?" you ask her, genuinely curious.

"Oh, I'm the groom's cousin," the woman sheepishly admits and blushes, still embarrassed after all that has happened.

"Well, you're quite the lady for bringing me to the reception," you defer to her.

"And who are you again?" the woman starts asking you quizzically.

"If you keep prying, you'll have to spend the rest of the year naked," you chirpily but definitively threaten her. She takes the hint and start driving, making sure to hit on the gas as you arrive at the house just as the bridal limousine is pulling in.

You have the woman park her car in a secluded spot, and listen in to the conversation of the newlyweds as they jump out of the car and head into the house.

"I don't know if I want to do this," the bride complains to the groom.

"Hmmm," the groom is ponderous about the next steps, "do you have anything else to wear here?"

"I really, really hope so," the bride continues, "I can't imagine shaking all those hands in my birthday suit!"

"How about this?" the groom continues, "If you can't find anything to wear, I'll smush the cake into your privates instead of your face."

"I guess..." the bride sighs as you can hardly contain your grinning. As the couple and their entourage enter the house you plan your next move.