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"Not that you need it, Polly," said Sammy, her eyes shining. "You've never looked more beautiful than you do tonight." I was touched by her compliment. I'd been dieting, working out, looking after myself in the approach to my big day, and it was nice to feel appreciated. I'd also gotten long, blond hair extensions, which made me feel like my fantasy woman, a princess with a fairy-tale hairstyle for my fairy-tale day. "Seriously," she said, stroking a strand of hair that had fallen across my shoulders. "Steve's a lucky, lucky man."

"Thanks," I said, flattered. "You're not so bad yourself." And it was true. Since she'd met Jez, her boyfriend, Sammy had blossomed. Dark and slender where I was blond and curvy, she had become more confident and beautiful than ever.

"But you never can be too pretty," I said, surveying the beauty products. "I don't know where to start!"

"I do," said Sammy, cracking open a mini champagne bottle and handing it to me. Good idea, girl, I thought, feeling very glad that Sam was my maid of honor.

After finishing our drinks, we took turns in the shower using the luxurious sugar-and-olive oil body scrubs in the bathroom. Then we both slipped into plush white hotel robes that felt oh so soft on our skin. Next we applied facial masks that were supposed to set but didn't, because we couldn't stop talking. We tried to give each other pedicures, using the foot scrubs and peppermint lotions in the bathroom but kept tickling each other so much that we didn't get very far. Still determined to take full advantage of the free products, Sammy rummaged farther among the beauty supplies.

"What about this?" she asked, holding up a bottle of massage oil. "Want a nice relaxing massage?" I didn't know the first thing about massage and neither did Sammy, but we were determined to get value for money out of these beauty treatments.

"Sure," I said. "I'll do you first. Where're you tense?"

"Backs of my legs," she said. "I've spent too long on that damn step machine trying to get in shape for tomorrow's dress. My thighs might not be wobbly, but they sure are stiff." Sammy lay facedown on the bed and hiked up her robe so that the tops of her thighs and the bottom of her ass were exposed. Her skin was as soft as a peach, and her thighs were lean and slender. I poured a little massage oil onto her smooth skin and, using gentle kneading motions, began to massage her.

"Ooh, that's lovely," purred Sammy. "You're very good. Just there," she said, as my knuckles worked the crease where her bottom met her legs. I used the flat of my palms to smooth the oil deep into her skin, and, following her instructions about what felt good, swirled my hands around her butt cheeks. Only when I found my thumbs drifting toward Sammy's inner thighs did I realize that my massage might be about to get a little too intimate. I'd been so focused on how good her baby-soft skin felt beneath my palms and her moans of pleasure that I'd forgotten there are some places you just don't touch your friends.

"Right," I said, ending my massage session with some brisk, efficient strokes somewhere near Sammy's knees. "I'm done now."

"That was bliss," said Sammy, rolling over on to her back. Her face was flushed, and, as she turned over, her robe became unfastened, revealing a small, pert breast topped with a soft, puffy nipple. She pulled her gown back toward her chest within seconds, but I'd seen something that made me feel nervous and uneasy.

"Your turn now," she said, and as she spoke I noticed that she didn't look me in the eye. "Tell me where your aches and pains are."

I moaned about how much my shoulders ached after weeks of poring over menus and seating plans and orders of service, and Sammy said she would do her best to get rid of the tension. I lay facedown, tits slightly splayed to the sides, and slid the top of my robe off, but kept it tied around my waist, covering my ass. When Sammy poured the massage oil onto my back, it trickled and tickled deliciously. Her hands on my neck and shoulders were warm, slender, and strong; I was impressed by the way she found each knot of tension and released it with masterful strokes as though she had been doing this her whole life. And I could tell that she was enjoying it, too, as she responded to the feedback I gave her and even complimented me on my all-over tan.

The more confident she grew, the farther her hands traveled: her sensitive caresses worked their way down my arms, releasing all the tension I was carrying around in my hands, and her fingers slid under my arms, teasingly touching the sides of my breasts. If Sammy had been a boy, this would have been the most effective foreplay ever! I decided to remind myself to joke with her later about teaching Steve a thing or two.

"Okay," said Sammy eventually, when I was just about to drift off to sleep. "You're done. How did that feel?"

"Amazing," I said and meant it. I sat up, pulling my robe back on and sinking into the pillows. "So now what?"