Husband's Best - Friend Fiasco

I stood in our honeymoon suite, my wedding dress discarded for a silk negligee that had cost more than some people's monthly rent. The champagne buzz still lingered pleasantly in my system as I watched Harrison emerge from the bathroom, his dark hair still damp from the shower.

"Come here, Mrs. Tucker," he said with that smile that had made me fall for him in the first place.

I moved toward him, heart racing with anticipation. After months of waiting until marriage—his suggestion, which I'd found sweetly old-fashioned—tonight would finally be ours. I reached for the belt of his robe, letting my fingers trail along the silk.

"I've been thinking about this all day," I whispered, leaning in to kiss him.

He returned the kiss, but something felt hesitant in his response. When I slipped my hand inside his robe, my fingers met something hard and metallic where I expected warm skin.

"What is this?" I pulled back, confused.

Harrison's expression shifted to something between embarrassment and annoyance. "It's nothing, just a... device."

"A device?" I pushed his robe open and stared in disbelief at what appeared to be a metal cage locked around his genitals. "You're wearing a chastity device? On our wedding night?"

He sighed, avoiding my eyes. "It was supposed to be a surprise. I have the key right here."

He reached for his wallet on the nightstand, extracting a small silver key. His hands trembled slightly as he attempted to unlock the device. The key slipped, then with a tiny metallic snap, broke off inside the lock.

"Shit," he muttered, panic rising in his voice.

"Can't you just... pull it off?" I asked, my wedding night fantasy crumbling by the second.

"It doesn't work that way." Harrison ran his hand through his hair, a gesture I usually found endearing but now seemed pathetic. "I need to make a call."

"A call? To whom, exactly?"

He hesitated, not meeting my eyes. "Saoirse has a spare key."

The name hit me like ice water. Saoirse Williamson—his so-called best friend since childhood. The woman who'd given a toast at our wedding that felt more like marking territory than celebrating our union.

"You're calling another woman to our honeymoon suite? To unlock your... your..." I couldn't even finish the sentence.

"Leslie, please." Harrison's voice took on that pleading tone he used whenever Saoirse came between us. "It's not what you think. It was just a joke between friends."

"A joke? Wearing a chastity device that she has the key to? On our wedding night?" My voice rose with each question.

Twenty minutes later, a soft knock came at our door. Harrison rushed to answer it while I sat rigidly on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a hotel robe, feeling more like an intruder than a bride.

Saoirse glided in wearing a silk camisole and shorts that revealed more than they concealed. Her long auburn hair fell in perfect waves, and her green eyes glittered with barely concealed triumph.

"Wedding night troubles?" she asked with mock sympathy, her gaze sliding over me dismissively before landing on Harrison with familiar intimacy.

"The key broke," Harrison explained, sounding apologetic but not for the right reasons.

"Again?" Saoirse laughed, the sound like breaking glass to my ears. "This is why I told you to get the titanium one, Harry."

Harry. Not even Harrison. A nickname I'd never heard anyone else use.

I watched in growing horror as she approached my husband with practiced ease, reaching into her purse for a key. "Let's get you sorted, then."

Without hesitation, she reached for his robe belt, her movements suggesting she'd done this countless times before. Harrison stood there, allowing it, as if this stranger undressing him in front of his wife was perfectly normal.

"Maybe I should wait in the bathroom," she said with a smirk that made it clear she had no intention of doing so.

I watched, frozen, as she knelt before my husband, her fingers working the lock with practiced precision. "You always twist it too hard," she murmured, looking up at him with an intimacy that made me sick. "Gentle but firm, remember?"

The lock clicked open, and Saoirse removed the device with casual familiarity. "There you go, good as new. Though you might have bruising from trying to force it."

"I know how to take care of that," I said coldly, finding my voice at last.

Saoirse turned to me, eyes wide with false innocence. "Oh, do you? Because this model requires special care. Harrison's skin gets irritated if you use the wrong cream. I've got his preferred brand in my room if you need it."

After Saoirse finally left, the door closing behind her with a soft click that felt like a gunshot, silence fell between us like a guillotine.

"Explain," I demanded, my voice shaking with rage.

"It's not what it looks like," Harrison began, tightening his robe. "Saoirse and I have known each other forever. The device was just a stupid bachelor party prank."

"A prank that she has the key to? That she knows exactly how to remove? That she knows your skin care preferences for?"

"You're overreacting. It's just a childhood friendship."

"No, Harrison. Whatever that was, it wasn't friendship." I grabbed my purse, yanked out my black credit card, and threw it at him. The plastic hit his chest and clattered to the floor. "Here. Buy your own damn chastity device since you clearly prefer hers."

I punctuated my words by grabbing the water glass from the nightstand and throwing its contents directly in his face. The shock in his eyes gave me the first genuine satisfaction I'd felt since saying "I do."