Something borrowed...

Michelle takes Matt's roses and puts them casually into the ice bucket in her hotel room. Your lips are still tingling from the "lucky kiss" she gave you.

"Hey, you know," Michelle says. "There's another thing for luck that you could help me with."

"What...what's that?" I asked. Michelle's towel seemed to be slipping.

"You know that old saying, 'Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue'?" she says. "I forgot and left the borrowed thing back at my house, and it's too late. But I thought...do you still wear those blue jockey shorts?"

"Are you kidding me?" I ask Michelle.

"No, please, I don't want to do anything unlucky on my wedding day," she says. She shifts uneasily.

Michelle always was a little superstitious, and I didn't want to add to her nerves on her wedding day.

"So what am I going to wear if you're in my shorts?" I say.

"You know, we are the same waist size," she says. "Wear one of mine."

I'm not sure if it was the flashes of bare flesh around her towel, the catch in her voice, or her piteous face that overcame my good sense, but five minutes later we had switched underwear and we were saying goodbye at the door.

"Michelle, this is so weird," I say. "Do you really think I should be wearing your...and you, what if...?"

"You're my Sir Lancelot," Michelle says, "come to take me to King Arthur. Think of it as a lady's favor."

Once Michelle gets a crazy notion in her head, it's hard to shake. And I wasn't going to argue with her on her wedding day.

"See you at the ceremony!" she says. "Oh, look at the time, I have to get dressed! Bye-bye!" She waves and disappears back into her hotel room.

I walk back toward my own room wearing a pair of Michelle's underwear. It feels strange. Not uncomfortable, just a little weird. I see the time on my watch is a little late. No time to lose. Off with the casuals... do I have another pair of shorts handy? No time, on with the tux.

And minutes after, I'm assembling with the wedding party, with the distinctly strange feeling of wearing the bride's underwear while she wears mine. The ring's in a gold envelope in my pocket, and I'm standing next to Matt.

The organist strikes up the gathering music. I follow the groom's party up to the altar.

The bridesmaids enter. Liz Thompson, the tall blonde maid of honor, my opposite number, gives me a tiny smile as she takes her place. Two other friends of Michelle are bridesmaids two and three, and Michelle's sister Danielle, last by height, completes the bride's party.

The organist begins the wedding march, and the doors open on the bride.

She's radiant, and I'm Sir Lancelot, wearing her panties. My unruly penis makes an immediate tent in my slacks. I hope that my coattails or the groom will block it from sight.

Michelle enters and starts to walk down the aisle.