Hugger Mugger Acte 1

The Young Hugger Mugger

Chapter 1

The Meaning of a Phrase

 

Apologies in advance to anyone who peruses this and comes away with thinking that it reads like the plot of yet another badly directed flick. Real-life can appear to be played out that way in the sometimes!

That bit being said...

Unescapable Boredom has always been a trigger for some of my most peevish muses, and sometimes that has landed me in quite hot water!

And whilst dwelling in my Unescapable boredom on this particular evening….

I had noticed the youth, a typical 13-year-old male, with typical, shall we say yearnings, scampering happily about at the reception hall which was our lot to be in on that late night.

And this particular lad’s activities were quite interesting from my admittedly cynical standing point of observation...

But first, please allow me to explain one’s self and reason for being in that quite overly posh venue.

I was one of several fellow professors at the university who had been invited to the son of a female colleague’s nuptials ( in other words, no close relationship to the groom, whom I only had bloody met, once... can anyone say a free gift for the gits?!).

He was marrying a rather affluent young Lass he had hitched up with from Wrexham way, and it was in that city, several hours away, that the couple decided to tie the knot, dragging his family, and us I might add, all along with him to travel there.

Now Wrexham is a nice enough place to visit, but preferring not to waste the whole weekend away from my invitingly stoic stone cottage, its quiet gardens, me pipe, and a snifter of fine old brandy… I had only booked in for an overnighter...

So it twas, that on an early, misting Saturday Morn, our entourage left for the long trog to make it in time for the noon wedding.

We arrived in the city of Wrexham with twenty minutes to spare and began our pleasant wind along with the old Girl’s nostalgic neighborhoods.

There are quite a few fine old churches in Wrexham, and the one where the nuptial ceremonies were to be held was, in my personal opinion, the finest.

The wedding was upscale smashing, starting with the rather gothic Blackstone church decorated like it was a set up for some fancy magazine photoshoot for an even more posh magazine.

The bride, once she made her appearance, continued on with the opulence, wearing high priced designers, sunglass wincing rhinestone decked, white satin number! While her girls in the bridal wore matching, equally rhinestoned inlaid gowns by the same designer! All were expensively form fitted in flowy bloody-red satin, ‘cept the maid of honour, a stunning redhead whose matching gown was of a bewitching midnight black! The groomsmen wore jet black tuxes, the groom wore a white tux and tails, looking like Fred Astaire complete with top hat and cane( but sans rhinestones ) … and indeed there was a bit of a movie like an ambiance hanging over the whole affair!

The reception venue was held at a fancy hall that had been repurposed from an old eel tinning factory. A most interesting venue, with no taint of its former occupant. And with all its most opulent trappings, looked like a stark continuation of the posh photoshoot like the atmosphere of the church, but in this case, set up in an alleyway like ambiance!

So I guess the affair overall was a nice enough bit of eye candy for those of us “privileged” enough to be invited.

I must add, I personally did not feel privileged, but judging by the openly blurted remarks of a gaggling trio of someone’s elderly maiden aunties( not mine thank Lord) we all were supposed to feel that way for being there!

Privileged was certainly not a verb I was going to choose!

Especially seeing that only 4 of us from the group invited from the university made the trip ( the others successfully coming up with valid excuses, the lucky prigs!)

In my tweeds and tie, I was feeling more of being on an isolated island in the stream of gaily dressed guests!

 

Chapter 2

The Sheer Humanity of it all!

 

So outside us four, and the bride’s parents, we were complete strangers to everyone else. Including the son of my colleague, the groom, whom I had only met once on a golf outing a few years back.

And pretty much the four of us found ourselves alone and ignored… !!

Then as the evening wore on, there was no pretty much about it, being stranded alone I dare say!

For I found myself completely alone!

Due to two of our group taking early leave ( The devils decided not to spend the night) and the fourth had taken up with a young man she had met ( I would say cougar if I was not a proper gentleman and actually rather fond of the lass meself!) ….

So I was sitting there, at an empty table, and soon the boredom began its subtle creeping in ...

I had not been guiling enough to plan a quick excuse to exit, nor so lucky to find someone dance with, so I made my way off the island and waded over to the bar and took up a solitary vigil on a padded stool. The watered-down drinks were free, so after about 5 old fashions along with two shots of a surprisingly decent scotch, I was feeling pretty good actually!

But even though I was enjoying meself in that aspect, I was still a wee bit bored, and therefore started peevishly musing about, you know, things…

Fancy Gowns shimmering jewels, sweaty dancers, weaselly eyed gits, and fox’s amongst the hens….Were all the wild diverse avenues my mind travelled along at that time and junction…

And it was during my boredom tinged thoughts when I again caught sight of the lad…

I, of course, had seen him earlier when we first arrived and was busy getting drinks for my group from the bar.

His mother was the satin gowned maid of honour to her bride sister, and he had been latched onto her at the waist of her midnight black bridesmaid’s attire, hanging on joyfully as she was in conversation with the best man.

I soon found out that the lad’s Maid of Honour mother was single. But though very pretty, she was no older than some of my students!

But at that time my attention was pulled away anyways’ by a plate of Hors d'oeuvres being passed around and as I ate and mingled with my colleagues, I continued to watch the lad and his antics from the corner of my eye.

Then dinner was announced, and as We made way to our seating, the lad totally escaped my mind… till now...

And now, here I was, observing the lad’s promiscuous antics again

Taking sips of my current old fashion, I had been watching with mesmerized interest, the Bride’s Mother.

She was a rather attractive lady, young for her age, who was wearing a rather fetching gown of sleek blue ruffling satin that flowed jauntily along with her fine fully feminine figure, swishing and swaying most delightfully.

She was wearing a rather pricey ensemble of fine jewellery, including a short gold herringbone necklace set with a large fiery diamond at its’ centre, flanked by four glittery smaller stones. I found the whole package enticing enough that I was pondering over the dos or don’ts of asking for a dance...for she appeared not to be attached to any male courtesan.

It was as I was watching that I again saw the thirteen-year-old lad, sneaking up from behind a table and hug his grandmother, who leaned down to reciprocate...( the lady was petitely short, so she didn’t have far to bend) the diamonds in her swaying necklace rippling with pinpricks of expensive fire as the brushed the top of the lad’s tousled haired head!

So, he was still at it I thought…

Now, when I had seen him darting about earlier, while Hors d'oeuvres were being served. after finally being shaken loose by his mother, he had performed this hugging antic on his grandmother several times, and once each on his Bride Aunt and Maid of Honour Mother!

Now, this lad was also obviously across the threshold of young puberty: as was witnessed by his actions, in the way he was sneaking up and giving those graspy hugs of his, the fingers digging into the shiny satiny, tightly fitted, gowns of his targeted females.

They all thought it cute enough, especially the gullible Grandmother, who thought it was “precious” and just laughed, and squealed happily, “look another drive-by hugging”, or “thanks for the hug honey, it was needed”, encouraging to no end the youth to keep his voyeuristic advances up, for he attempted this several more times as I stood watching from the side-lines … Though his Grandmother was the only female not to fend off repeated attempts!

But, and damn me own eyes, I had noticed that far more was going on than just a bit of runaway hugging !!

The little miscreant was also Copping a bloody feel from his distracted victims!!

The Lads arms, as he hugged his grandmother’s warm figure before running off, were noticeably brushing just under her perk breasts, moulded nicely by the tight fitted ‘mother of the bride” gown she was attired in.

I also knew that, along with copping a feel, he was had also enjoying the tingling sensation from the slick satin material of the long, swishing gown the rather youngish, stylish wealthy grandmother was wearing…

Perhaps I was jealous?

It was as I watched him repeat this performance again and again, that my mind was taken off asking anyone to dance, and my attention started to follow this lad to see what he was all on about, to confirm my hypothesis if you will.

I soon saw that he was now turning his touchy attention upon a different source for his promiscuous behaviour!

 

Chapter 3

Huggery Muggery

 

The youngest of the bridesmaids by far was the 15-year-old sister of the Groom.

A rather immature teenager at that. Looking like some Disney princess! Quite resplendent in her fitted red satin gown and wearing rhinestone ensemble that matched that of the rest of her fellow, though much older, lady bridesmaids!

But she certainly was not acting like a proper princess as she now whisked about playing at cops and robbers with my 13-year-old mischievous lad.

Said Lad, whose fingers were doing more touching than just tagging the fancy dress of his fetchingly attired playmate.

So, ordering yet another old fashion(my seventh for those keeping tabs), I watched the pair…

Not really being a voyeur in my defence, for my professional interest does lay in the realm of the study of human nature, though as a criminologist this was a thin argument at best for applying it to the situation today...

Soon the girl was pulled away to join the bridal party who had started swishing about on the dance floor, and the lad, looking glumly on, and with all his “victims” out of reach on said dance floor, eventually headed off, and the direction he took was going led him straight past me!

I perkily noticed this fact, and my thoughts began to take on a new form!

I looked up over the top of his head to the dance floor, rather envious that I was not able to participate with a fluttery satin gown, jewel laden lady of my own!!

I spied the young 15-year-old bridesmaid dancing, she seemed to be enjoying herself as she slow danced with her 17-year-old partner, who otherwise had been basically ignoring the fetching attired lass!.

I also caught sight of her necklace as it was caught up in the lights.

It was glittering u a storm, sparkling madly in the dim lights, as were the rhinestones on her dress!

I looked around; all the bridesmaid’s opulent rhinestones were sparkling. The Grandmother was also sparkling about on the floor, dancing with some spiff in a tailored suit!

Despite my misery at being there, I felt something stirring up inside of me.

Not surprisingly (to me) a rather mischievous thought came into my head propelled by a combination of the resplendent bridesmaids dancing on the floor, the attractive glittering of rhinestones, the approaching lad, and the fact that I was really quite blasé about the whole affair, being stuck there and all!

Of course, I was also probably a wee bit more drunk than sober by that period in time, causing me to follow my whimsey without much sagacity or discernment...

My thought was in the direction of doing a quick, possibly amusing study, on channeling this approaching Lads spirited passions by broadening his horizons!

In simple terms, Tune the lad in on expanding his conquests through an adult’s apparent permission, then turn him loose to give “drive-by hugging’s” amongst the flock of dressed up bridesmaids may be most amusing... Like an amorous puppy scurrying in amongst a group of shiny feathered clucking chickens!

So, while I eyed the approaching lad, I nonchalantly put my hand into a jacket pocket fumbling for a selection of ever-present coins.

Now my Grandfather had been a magician of sorts, and I had been weaned on watching his sleight of hand tricks with coins. As a young man I had learned a few of them myself, ( as a way to meet the fairer sex of course) as well as a slew of card tricks, and always had a few props with me.

 

Done