Bridesmaid for Hire

THE SALTY OCEAN BREEZE WAFTS through the room, followed by the quiet sound of waves lapping against the bungalow’s poles. Serenity is the only way to describe it as the sun peeks through the wooden blinds, waking me up slowly, luxuriously. God, that’s cool. Much better than the daily alarm that pushes me out the door so I can get into the office before everyone else.

Yup, this is the way I want to wake up every morning, especially as something very soft is rubbing my dick. A gentle rub, almost featherlike, but it’s certainly stirring me awake down below.

I shift slightly, spreading my legs a touch as the rubbing continues.

Jesus, that feels good.

Really fucking good.

I heave a heavy sigh and roll my teeth over my bottom lip.

Fuck…yes…

“Mmm…”

I freeze at the woman’s voice.

What is a woman doing in my bed?

And then it hits me, my eyes fly open, and I glance down at my crotch where Maggie, still apparently asleep, is snuggling with my cock, cuddled up to it like it’s her favorite fucking stuffie.

What the fuck is happening?

She’s sprawled across the bed sideways, perpendicular to my body, face first in my—thankfully, covered—crotch, rubbing her cheek gently against my hard-on, followed by her nose.

Cheek to shaft.

Nose to shaft.

Cheek to shaft…

Fucking nose to shaft.

And with every pass, I grow harder and harder to the point that if she keeps it up, I could very much come on her face. I’m pretty sure that’s against the contract we signed last night.

Everything about this violates the contract we signed last night.

So, I shift to the side, hoping that wakes her up, but her hand slides down and cups my balls.

“Mother…of…fuck,” I groan, my dick growing even harder as her hot breath dances along my length.

Okay, this is not going to work.

I mean…it’s working, but it shouldn’t be working. This is not what we agreed upon. That’s not to say that I haven’t fantasized about Maggie’s mouth wrapped around my cock though. God, do not think about Maggie’s mouth wrapped around your cock. I’ll definitely blow with that vision of heaven. But still, this breaks the contract.

She didn’t even last twelve hours, mind you, before rubbing her face all over my dick.

And I know that sounds douchey, and she’s technically not aware of what she’s doing, but wait until you see it. You’ll agree with me.

Now back to the matter at hand…or matter at cheek—get it?

Time to wake up the princess.

I lift my arm and tap her on the shoulder. She doesn’t move, so I do it a little harder this time.

“Mmmm, not now,” she says as she twists to her side, presenting me with a view of her tit hanging out of her lingerie and fucking hell…look at it.

Jesus.

So fucking round, plump, with a dark areola and a perfect pointed nipple. Hard and aroused.

My mouth waters at the mere sight of it as she rubs her cheek against my cock again.

Yup, I’m going to come.

From her hand, to her face, to her tit, I’m going to fucking come.

So, to prevent an entire mess and a horrible situation, I decide there is only one thing to do—fly out of this bed and straight to the shower.

On the count of three.

One…

Two…

Thre—

Her mouth opens around my length. I let out a yelp as I rush out of bed and straight into the bathroom. I slam the door, flip on the shower, take off my briefs, and then hop under the water.

I grip my cock in my hand and start pumping, hard.

I prop one hand against the tile and bend my head into the water, letting the warm drops flow down my back as I shamefully picture Maggie’s perfect tit, popped out of her lingerie set.

Fuck…so hot.

Everything about her is so hot.

Her curvy body.

Her gorgeous face.

Her long, wavy hair.

Her lusciously perfect lips.

Yup, you’ve guessed it, Maggie Mitchell is my dream girl.

The crush I’ve harbored and repressed for years slips free, and the night of Gary’s wedding comes flying back into my head. The way she cupped me in her palm, how her lips made me melt right on the spot. Her enticing moans. Her gentle, tentative touch that turned hotter, more needy the more I kissed her. If I hadn’t pulled away when I did, I would have fucked her that night and it would have been my greatest mistake.

But this…this I can do.

This I can manage.

I can picture her and get off.

I can picture how it would have felt to run my hand over her breast. To feel her nipple pass between my fingers, to watch her mouth fall open with a light gasp when I moved my hand down her stomach…

She’s so fucking hot.

I grip my cock harder, and it only takes seconds as my body starts to stiffen, my cock jolts, and I come all over the shower tiles.

“Fuck,” I grumble as I take a deep breath, letting my hand slide over my dick for a few more seconds before I straighten up.

I don’t know if I should be happy or disturbed, but either way, the devil inside of me hopes I wake up like that every morning this week.

Something Gary Mitchell will never, ever know. Because I’m too young to die.

MAGGIE

Rocking back and forth on the lounger outside of the bungalow that looks over the clear blue water, I type frantically on my phone, texting my best friend.

Maggie: Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. I rubbed my face over his penis. Cheek on cock. Nearly motorboated his balls. Used his dick as my own personal mustache. I…I breathed heavily on his erection. Like, steamed him up real good, practically soft-boiled his balls.

Hattie: Uh…what? Who? Did you find a guy in a Speedo? Isn’t this what you wanted?

I glance over my shoulder where the door is still closed. The man is probably triple disinfecting his penis as we speak. I type back feverishly, my fingers flying so fast, I almost can’t comprehend what I’m saying.

Maggie: BRODY! I’m talking about Brody!

Hattie: Whoa, hold on. Why is your face even near his penis?

Maggie: Are you in some sort of sex haze? Remember, you told me to take action, and I did. I walked up to Brody when he was talking to Mr. Hopper and introduced myself as his girlfriend. I then hit it off with the family, became a substitute bridesmaid, and then ended up having to share my bed with Brody because he needed a place to stay. I woke up this morning with my face on his brief-covered crotch! Keep up!

Hattie: How the hell did you accomplish that much in a few hours?

Maggie: I’m efficient, you know this about me.

Hattie: I do, but wow. Okay, so you buried your face into his groin. Can you explain how you got there?

Maggie: I wish I could. I wish I could describe to you a dream where I was shopping for a new pillow and was testing out the different options, his crotch being the one I ended up with, but there’s nothing. NO evidence of such a thing.

Hattie: So you just ended up there…

Maggie: Correct. I’m a deviant.

Hattie: LOL, you’re not. Just maybe confused in your sleep. That’s okay. Now we just need to figure out where do we go from here?

Maggie: I have no clue! I didn’t mean to. I just woke up from him fleeing the scene. I think…oh God, I think I was cupping his balls. Am I really that horny? That I grope men in my sleeping state? I violated him.

Hattie: You did, but it doesn’t sound like you meant to. A note to apologize might be nice.

Maggie: You think I should apologize?

Hattie: How else are you going to broach the subject? You can’t possibly ignore it.

Maggie: That penis is unignorable. God, Hattie, I can still feel it on my face. It was so stiff, like…like I was sleeping on a PVC pipe.

Hattie: How would you even know what that feels like?

Maggie: An assumption. But I liked it. I liked every second of it and I shouldn’t. I specifically stated in our contract last night that there would be no sexual interaction and there I am, huffing and puffing on his cock, trying to blow his underwear down.

Hattie: LOL. Sorry, but that was funny.

Maggie: You’re not helping.

Hattie: I don’t know what you want me to do. You made a contract with him? That’s classy. What else was in the contract?

Maggie: That doesn’t matter. I’m attached to the man for a week and now I have to face him. He has to look me in the eyes knowing that this morning, I rubbed my nose along one of his penis veins without his consent. I don’t think there’s any recovering from that. And I know he’s in that bathroom right now, trying to scrub my face off his penis.

Hattie: Really, you think that’s what he’s doing?

Maggie: What else could he be doing? He was mortified. He leapt out of the bed so fast and slammed the bathroom door. Oh my God! And when I rotated to figure out what was going on, I felt my boob hanging out of my pajamas.

Hattie: The nighttime traveling tit strikes again!

Maggie: Do you think he saw it?

Hattie: He would be a lucky son of a bitch if he did. Ooh, I bet he saw the traveling tit, was hard from your mouth breathing on his penis, and went into the bathroom to jack off.

Maggie: Oh my God, he did not.

Hattie: Maggie…

Maggie: Hattie…

Hattie: He totally jerked off.

Maggie: He did not.

Hattie: I just asked Hayes and he said there is no chance he didn’t. 100% there is cum going down that drain as we speak.

Maggie: Do you think…

Hattie: Totally. He probably didn’t want to come on your face.

Maggie: I mean…I was massaging his balls. Maybe, maybe he did do that.

Hattie: I bet you anything he did.

“What are you doing?” his deep voice comes from behind me.

“Jesus!” I scream as I throw my phone up in the air only for it to land on the deck with a clash. I look back at Brody who is standing there in a towel slung low across his hips and that impressive chest still wet from his shower. Does this man not know what a proper dry job is? My God. “Can you not scare me like that?” I ask as I pick up my phone.

“I wasn’t trying to scare you.” He glances down at me. “I see you stuck your boob back in your shirt.”

I can feel my entire body heat up in embarrassment, all the way down to my white-painted toes.

So, he did see it. Great!

“A gentleman would never mention such things.”

“Never said I was a gentleman,” he counters. “By the way, what do you owe me for breaking the contract? Do I get a prize?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say as I stand and start to walk by him, but he stops me with his hand to my stomach. I look to my left, up at him. How is his body so large, so overpowering that I feel tiny in comparison?

“Your face was using my cock as your personal washcloth this morning. If you rubbed a little harder, you would have gotten your own facial. Pretty sure that breaks rule number one.”

I should have known he’d say something. Here I was, trying to figure out how to broach the subject and he does it so easily like the dick that he is.

“I was not using your penis as my own personal washcloth.”

“Uh-huh, and what were you doing exactly?”

I think on it for a moment and when nothing comes to me, I say, “Using it to scratch my nose.”

The stupidest grin spreads across his lips. “That’s why we have these bad boys.” He lifts his hand and wiggling his fingers in front of me.

“You’re annoying,” I say as I move by him, but of course he trails in behind me.

“Is this going to be a nightly occurrence? Just need to prepare myself. Also…do you bite in your sleep?”

I whirl around on him. “For your information, I don’t spend most of my time sleeping with people and sharing a bed, so pardon me if I ended up in a weird, off-putting position.”

“It wasn’t off-putting. Kind of enjoyed it.”

“Well, it was off-putting for me. The last thing I want is your penis acting as my very own dangling nose ring. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to scrub my face for an hour.”

I head into the bathroom and I’m about to shut the door when there’s a knock at the front of the bungalow. I glance over my shoulder. “Is someone at the front door?”

“That’s what a knock would indicate,” he shoots back. “I’ll grab it.”

“Uh, you’re in your towel, I’ll grab it.”

His dark eyes look me up and down. “You’re not fucking answering the door in that.” He gestures to my pajamas. “Sorry, but that’s for my eyes only.” He wiggles his brows, and it makes me hate him that much more.

I stay where I am as he answers the door. I hear him say thank you before wheeling a cart of food into the room.

“Did you order room service?” I ask.

“No, I was about to ask you the same thing.” He glances down at the tray and then picks up an envelope. He flashes it to me. “It’s for the happy couple. I believe that’s supposed to be you and me, but from the…mood you woke up in this morning, I’m guessing you’re not as happy as I am.”

I walk up to him and snag the envelope from his hand. “Yeah, that’s because you had your dick played with while I was left out to dry…like every other time in my life.” Oh crap. Crap. Crap.

How on earth did that just come out of my mouth? I open the letter—ignoring Brody’s stare completely—and read it out loud.

“‘Maggie and Brody, thank you so much for coming to the rescue last night. We’re so appreciative. Please consider your stay here on the house. All meals and drinks are taken care of as well. Below is the number to your own personal butler. He’ll be at your service whenever you need him. Please join us for mimosas at ten by the pool this morning. Very grateful, Reginald Hopper.’”

“Well, well, well,” Brody says as he picks up a piece of pineapple and pops it in his mouth. “Aren’t you glad you hitched your wagon to this truck?”

I cross my arms, trying to hide how elated I am with this turn of events. “Aren’t you glad I pretended to be your girlfriend, so you didn’t end up sleeping in a chair last night?”

“You know…I am. Had a nice sleep, got a little crotch rub this morning, and then a killer breakfast. You aren’t too bad after all, Mitchell.”

“What are you doing in there?” Brody complains for the fourth time. “It’s just mimosas by the pool, not tea with the king.”

“I’m trying to pick out a swimsuit that doesn’t show off too much.”

“Just wear a T-shirt or something.”

I partially open the door and stick my head out. “I’m not wearing a T-shirt. You know Haisley and her other bridesmaids are going to look amazing. I can’t be showing up in a freaking T-shirt.”

“Then show me what you have so we can move on. I’ll tell you if it’s too revealing.”

“Ew, I’m not giving you a fashion show.”

“Ew,” he mocks. “I wasn’t asking for one. I just want to get the fuck out of here and into the sun where I can drink my weight in mimosas and erase the memory of you hacking up a hair ball while brushing your teeth this morning.”

“I wasn’t hacking up a hair ball. It’s called clearing the mucus so your breath doesn’t stink.”

“Whatever, just show me the freaking bathing suits.”

Sighing, I open the door the rest of the way and stand in front of Brody in my yellow ruffled two-piece. The bottoms have a scalloped waistline, and the top is comprised of two triangles with ruffles, but the triangles are, again, small, showing off a nice view of cleavage and side boob.

“Is it too revealing?”

Brody is sitting on the bed, and I watch him slowly lean back onto his hands and check me out. “I mean…you look hot. Is that what you were going for?”

Oh my God, did he just call me hot?

I feel my cheeks flame from the compliment. Brody McFadden doesn’t say things like that to me.

He’s more along the lines of…the yellow of your swimsuit reminds me of the bird turd I almost stepped in on my morning walk. Not…you look hot.

Flustered, I say, “I’m going for, uh…sophisticated.”

He shakes his head. “Nope, not sophisticated. Your tits look too good for sophisticated.”

Ignore the compliment.

Ignore it.

“Ugh,” I groan. “This is my least revealing one.”

His brows shoot up. “You know, on the other hand, I wouldn’t mind a fashion show.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t be a pig.”

I walk over to the closet where I grab the matching sarong. “It will have to do. I don’t want to be late, so come on.”

“I’ve been ready. Don’t tell me to come on. I’ve been waiting on you.” He walks up next to me and takes my hand in his. I quickly swat him away.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh, escorting my girlfriend to the pool, or did you forget the fact that you made that claim last night?”

“I’d never forget that, but we’re behind closed doors, so there’s no need to touch me.”

“Tell that to your face that nearly gobbled up my cock this morning.”

He moves past me and opens the door.

“I did not gobble it up. God.”

“Felt like it.” He hops into the golf cart, on the driver’s side. I shut the bungalow door and stand next to him.

“Do you really think you’re driving?”

He drapes his wrist over the steering wheel, looking far too good in his white short-sleeved button-up shirt—with the top three buttons undone—and his light blue swim trunks. He barely styled his hair, which is frustrating, because it looks amazing. He didn’t bother to shave, giving him that dark and sinister look that comes from the perfect five o’clock shadow. He topped the outfit off with a pair black and gold thin-framed Ray Bans. Men are so frustrating. They can do the bare minimum and look good.

“Let’s get one thing straight.” He tips his sunglasses down, so I have to look him in the eyes. “I’ll be driving us around, you’ll be holding my hand without swatting it away, and we’ll remember the goddamn rules that you insisted on putting together. Which means, no embarrassing stories.”

“I know.” I stomp around the front of the golf cart and take a seat in the passenger side. “Women can drive, you know.”

“Well aware of the progress the female population has made throughout the years. In fact, I’d say women are better than men at this point, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be a chivalrous dick that takes care of his girl.” He drapes his arm over the back of my seat and continues, “So get comfortable, because when we’re in public, I’m going to be white knighting you all over the place.”

“I don’t think that’s a term.”

“It is now,” he says as he presses on the pedal and shoots us off down the plank bridge and toward the resort.

The morning is beautiful with the light breeze from the ocean and the clear blue skies. Water stretches forever, the prettiest blue I’ve ever seen, making it seem like we’re truly in heaven, rather than a tourist-heavy island.

And it’s all free.

Every part of this trip.

Sure, I have to suffer through sharing a bed with Brody, pretending to be his girlfriend, while also working, but still, a free stay just makes this so much better.

“Why did you bring a bunch of slutty swimsuits?” he asks as we continue down the bridge.

“I prefer the term ‘revealing.’”

“Fine, why did you bring a bunch of revealing swimsuits?”

“Can’t a lady have fun without having to explain herself?” I ask.

“Is that what you’re doing?” he asks. “Trying to have some fun? Trying to find someone to have fun with?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“You realize you should have picked a better place to vacation if you were looking to get some.”

“Why do you say that?” I ask.

“Because—do you really think people come here on their own, pay all that money for the bungalow, just to find someone to fuck? This is totally a couple’s resort.”

“That’s not true.”

“Really?” he asks, glancing at me. “Hopper Industries is known to market this specific resort to couples as a honeymoon destination. Haven’t you noticed there really isn’t anyone here that isn’t in a couple?”

Huh…that would explain yesterday by the pool.

“If you were looking to bang on vacation, you picked the wrong spot.”

“Well…maybe I wasn’t looking to get some.”

“Liar.” I can hear the smile in his voice without even having to look at him. “After your comment earlier about being as dry as a desert and your wardrobe choices—”

“I did not say I was drier than a desert.”

“Paraphrasing.” He flashes a smile at me. “Tell me I’m not right. Explains the motorboating you gave me this morning.”

“Can you stop bringing that up?” I nearly growl. “It was a clear mistake that was done in my sleep. We are moving on.”

“I don’t know, going to be pretty hard to get over the feel of your mouth on my dick.”

“It wasn’t on your…” I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. “It wasn’t on your dick. Just drop it.”

“As you wish.” He smirks just as we pull up to the golf cart parking near the pool. He pockets the keys and then gets out, only to move around the front and meet me. He holds his hand out, and I glance down at it and then back up at him. “Promise I won’t bite.” He winks and then snags my hand.

His hand is so much larger than mine.

Significantly larger.

His fingers curl all the way around my hand and when he entwines them with mine, a more intimate hold in my opinion, the tips of his fingers brush over my wrist.

Immediately my mind goes to what he could do with those hands, how he could use them to his advantage and stroke places within me that have never been stroked before, but I shake off the thoughts as we move into the pool area where the Hopper family is gathered by a large cabana. I don’t need to be aroused in any way. I need to be at the top of my game.

Haisley is the first to spot us.

“Over here!” she calls, waving us over.

Brody squeezes my hand twice and then guides us over to the group. Reginald and who I’m going to assume is his wife, Regina, are seated at a table in the corner. Jude is talking to two men in the other corner, while Haisley is leaving two women relaxing in a lounger to come greet us.

“I’m so glad you decided to join us.” She glances behind her and then whispers, “If you don’t want to do this, please feel free to bail at any time. I know my dad pressured you.”

“He didn’t,” I say. “Not in the slightest. Like I’ve said before, I’ve filled in before at other weddings. I’m just sorry that you’re in this predicament in the first place.”

“Thank you, Maggie. That’s very kind. But for real, do we need a safe word if you do want to escape? I’m totally okay with that.”

“She’s good,” Brody says. “This girl lives and breathes weddings. Ever since I’ve known her, she’s been infatuated with love and romance.”

“That’s so sweet,” Haisley says.

Yes…that was oddly sweet. Maybe Brody is going to hold up his end of the bargain after all.

“Here, let me introduce you to everyone.” Haisley brings us over to the group. “Everyone, this is Brody and his girlfriend, Maggie. I interned with Brody back in the day. And Maggie will be filling in as the third bridesmaid, which we are very grateful for. Apparently, this does happen often, and as Maggie owns an event planning business, she’s filled in as a bridesmaid before. None of this is weird at all.” She lets out a strained chuckle.

I pat Haisley’s arm, letting her know that I’m perfectly okay with this.

“We are very grateful,” Regina says over in the corner. “We’ve touched base with a few high-profile magazines that will be featuring the wedding. They all say that having an even bridal party is key.”

Well, she seems very down to business.

“It’s my pleasure.” I smile.

The two men who were talking to Jude move forward, and I get a brief glimpse of them—dear God, are they attractive. They must be Hudson and Hardy, Haisley’s brothers.

One of them just looks like he smells of money. His perfect hair is a lighter brown than Brody’s but with bright blue eyes and olive skin, he is beyond striking. And then the other is more rugged with a short beard and a messier head of hair, like Brody’s, but with the same blue eyes as his brother.

“Hudson,” Mr. Posh says as he holds his hand out to Brody. “You’re in charge of the boutique project, aren’t you?”

I glance at Brody who looks surprised. “Yes, that would be me.”

Hudson nods. “Great idea.”

“Thank you,” Brody says with pride.

“I’m Hardy,” the other one says. “Thanks for going along with my dad’s asinine idea of pulling a stranger into the wedding.” Yup, Hardy seems like the more fun one. Sorry, Hudson.

Although, both are very attractive and, from the looks of it, possibly single.

“It’s not a problem at all,” Brody says. “Just glad to be here.”

“Maggie, let me introduce you to the twins.” I walk with Haisley over to the two girls sitting on the lounger. Both are maybe a few years younger than I am, probably still in college. And though they might be twins, they don’t look anything alike. “These are Jude’s sisters, Sloane and Stacey.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Are you excited to be here in paradise?”

“We are,” Sloane says in such a sweet voice that it feels like a warm hug. “We’ve never been out of the country before, so this is all new.”

“I can imagine,” I say. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been on vacation, so I’m in the same boat. And you guys don’t look like each other, but you do. Line you two up with Jude and it’s uncanny.”

“That’s what everyone says,” Stacey says.

“Because it’s true,” Haisley says and then turns toward me. “Jude’s best friend won’t be here until we get closer to the wedding. We kept it small with our closest friends and family.”

“That’s sweet. I’m sorry about your best friend.”

“She’s more upset than I am, I think. She’s pregnant and was put on bedrest right before she was supposed to leave. I told her I’d rather she take care of her baby than make the wedding. Doesn’t stop her from calling and making sure she’s part of the activities. I’m sure she’ll FaceTime at some point while we’re here.”

“My best friend would probably be the same way. We’re far too immersed in each other’s lives.”

“Same.” Haisley chuckles. “Here, let me grab you a mimosa.”

We walk over to the table where drinks, pastries, and fruits are laid out.

“Help yourself,” Reginald says from the corner.

“Thank you.” I smile at him. “And thank you for breakfast this morning and your note. Completely unnecessary but very much appreciated.”

“It’s our pleasure.” He nods at me with approval, and I have to say, for someone who has billions upon billions of dollars in his bank account, he’s a pretty nice guy. Sometimes I think the rich have no reason to be nice, but maybe that’s just a stupid idea I’ve built in my head from countless movies and TV shows. At least Reginald Hopper seems to defy the stereotypes.

Haisley hands me a champagne flute, and I take a sip of the mimosa, surprised that there seems to be just a drop of orange juice in the flute. Although maybe this is how rich people live. All champagne and barely any juice. “So, you and Brody. I have to say, you guys make the perfect couple. When we were interning together, we were so bored at times that we’d spend days asking each other questions. That’s how he learned about my dreams and ended up helping me with a business plan. But I remember asking him who his dream girl was, and he stared up at the ceiling, really gave it some thought. He answered the other right away, but he took his time with that one and ended up describing a girl who looks just like you. It’s almost like he manifested it.”

“He did?” I ask, not quite believing my ears.

Haisley nods. “Yup. Did you know him then?”

“Not really,” I say. “He’s seven years older than me, so when he was interning, I would have still been in high school.”

Haisley clutches her chest. “God, that makes me feel like a grandma.”

I chuckle. “Trust me, you are the furthest thing from a grandma.”

“Are you sure I won’t need a cane to walk down the aisle?”

“Positive.”

Reginald stands from the corner and clinks his glass to gather everyone’s attention. “I’d like to raise a toast to the beautiful engaged couple.”

Hudson, Hardy, and Brody join us. Brody wraps his arm around my waist and holds me close as Haisley hands him a flute.

“I was wary at first when my daughter told me that she was in love, but then I met Jude, got to know his kind, protective heart, and I knew there wouldn’t be anyone better to take my daughter’s hand in marriage. We welcome you to the family this week, Jude, as well as your wonderful sisters, Sloane and Stacey. We’re so happy to have you. Here’s to a wonderful wedding week.” Wow. Wealthy and genuine. No wonder Haisley made such a good choice in her future husband.

We hold our flutes up, and the whole scene feels so surreal as I toast to a wedding and a couple I barely know—but realize I’d love to know better. What an amazing opportunity.

Sometimes, opportunity falls in your lap, and you have to seize it.

I’m glad I was able to seize this one.