Emilyhad been a bit of a Bridezilla today. We had given her enough of ourtime - we weren't going to let her steal this special moment from us.We even...ually heard Emily's footsteps walking away from the room and weboth sighed, and celebrated the narrow escape with a french kiss. Saschahelped me out of my dress. We made an effort to help each other out ofour panties and bras, but hands were fondling every imaginable body part,and it was a bit counterproductive. Eventually, we were completely. Fried tomatoes - she hadn't known that people fried tomatoes. Fried bread! Whoever heard of such a thing - and delicious, too. For some reason she felt a craving for peameal bacon, and asked her neighbour at the table if Hogwarts ever served it."Never heard of it," said Ron, "but there's lots of other stuff." And indeed there was. Imogen tried bits of everything - sausages, bacon, eggs and a breakfast fish of some kind - another first for her. She was reaching for another piece of the fried. “Can’t I just swim in my underwear?” she asked, pulling her sunglasses down and peeking over at my dad as he read the paper.“Fuck, what, in front of my dad?” I asked. The idea made me nervous.“What, are you afraid, he’ll get a stiffy if he sees me in my underwear?” she asked with a devilish grin.“That’s real fucked up,” I said, smiling crookedly while my gut churned with anxiety.“What are you kids talking about over there?” asked my pop, looking up from his paper and shifting in his seat to. She felt nothing. She’d expected to feel some sort of satisfaction, pleasure or contentment… but no – nothing. No regret, no joy, no sadness. Her husband was dead, her revenge complete. So what? It had been seven days – seven long days. Days in which her supposedly loving Foster Brother had put her through every indignity imagined just so she could get that parchment to work. Just so she could try and restore some of the self-esteem her Husband had stolen from her. He’d promised her the world,.