Saturday morning, it is spring and all is well with the world. Stephen is sitting at the breakfast bar having finished off a couple of slices of toast and was halfway through a cup of tea. Verity, his wife, sweeps past him in her green floral house coat with a plate and cup having completed her breakfast on the deck.
Stephen was observing her intently. She was humming as she passed, their Sonos sound system was playing loudly in the back ground some love song she had begun to sway her head to. Lalalalala she joined in the chorus with the singer. Verity was totally oblivious to the existence of Stephen sitting there.
He watched her perplexed as she set the dishes into the water of the sink. She paused, her hands soaking up the warmth of the water. She smiled to herself staring out the window, her smile fixed; her head continues to sway with the music.
"You seem remarkably happy this morning", remarks Stephen.
Verity turns smiling broadly, her blues eyes sparkling, "it's such a lovely morning. It's summer and I feel on top of the world."
This actually had Stephen worried. Verity is normally such a serious person; in fact Stephen had wondered whether she was slightly Asperger. This was definitely out of character.
*
Stephen and Verity East were married. They had two children Amos and Hugo and had been talking about a third. Verity was 29. She was intelligent but unfulfilled in life. At school she had been dux of a private girl's school. She had gone on to University obtaining Masters in English Literature but had never achieved anything with it. She taught at secondary level for a while but gave up when she had the children. She wrote poetry and short stories but was thinking of a great New Zealand Novel. In her fantasies she saw herself receiving a Booker prize but at this date it all seemed far off.
For Stephen she was somewhat of a trophy wife, her natural hair was taupe. In her teens she had been tall and slender with a "certain look" that brought some fame as a catwalk model. Her look was her expressive bright green eyes. One could not help being drawn to them. They were wide and her lashes thick and upward pointed. She always looked slightly surprised. For a serious person, her eyes seemed to be smiling even when she wore a frown. As her teens progressed she grew boobs and became less in demand on the catwalk but she continued modelling and it paid her way through university.
She had what Stephen once described as a 'god given arse'. That plus her beautiful legs and flawless skin had sustained her modelling career into lingerie, swimsuits and suchlike. Given Yoga pants or tight jeans she was in demand. For this reason she was obsessive about her body which could give the impression of vanity but as Stephen came to realise that like anything she put her mind to she was meticulous in ensuring she was well prepared for what she needed to achieve. Her body was her tools of her trade; all body hair was laser removed her hair always stylish. Naked, her skin was never too tanned, not too fair but not far removed from a porcelain doll. In dressing her day wear and make up were always understated and natural, but when she scrubbed up, she dressed to kill and depending on the occasion she could be a chameleon appearing in anything from wildly bizarre to impeccably elegant.
This seemed to be at odds with her appearance as a teacher. She really was not what you might call a typical teacher. It seems that the focus she could put in her interests elsewhere did not apply to her day job. Stephen put it down to her not being able to connect with and control wayward teenagers.
Stephen was a very successful and trendy architect. He was something of a prodigy at his age. His talent had always been there and recognized by everyone even before he set foot in Architectural School. He designed fashionable houses for fashionable people. He was the picture of an architect but his clothes and demeanour displayed a fashionable edge, topped with blacked framed glasses and a floppy coiffure. He had a carefully trimmed beard with just a hint of red. Tall dark and handsome but studious framed him exactly. He liked dark informal but neat clothing; fashionable but minimalist; their family car was a Citroen C3 SUV. All in all a typical architect but the one that you would use if you were an advertising executive or a media personality and that's who his clients were.
Verity and Stephen met on a photoshoot where one of his more 'out there' houses was being used for a fashion shoot. Verity had been made up in a bizarre fashion in keeping with the house, as though the whole composition had just been beamed down from planet Claire.
Stephen eyed the eye candy, who seemed the correct accessory for one of his houses and Verity saw in Stephen a trendy subject for her intended fashionable Booker Prize winning novel.
From their first meeting Verity and Stephen seemed to belong to one another. Verity clung to Stephen, seldom left his side in public. Always very serious in public occasions she moved from pose to pose but never beyond a couple of metres from Stephen. The clue to the inner Verity was her car, a VW beetle convertible giving her that bit of cute quirky ostentatiousness.
Many men would find Verity too clingy, too claustrophobic, but Stephen loved her. In private she was extremely knowledgeable and well read. They stimulated each other. She stimulated Stephen with her intellect; Stephen stimulated her with his creativity. It suited him to have her at his sleeve in public. There, he was always a little nervous and uncomfortable but with Verity at his side, she would be his shield. She was always prepared to defend Stephen in public especially where critical jealous knives were out. It did not pay to underestimate Verity. Her outward personality was fey in a detached way which gave her a mysterious aura. It might be easy to think she was some fashion bimbo. Think that at your peril as underneath the façade she was razor sharp. She loved the limelight and as Stephen and his practice were recipients of various awards she revelled in the occasions that awards bring. Entering a hall of admirers with Verity at his side was awe inspiring and as a pair appeared in magazines as young achievers and a chic, up and coming duo to aspire to.
In private Verity was very affectionate Stephen loved her best when she snuggled down with him on the couch or when they were spooning in bed. She had a Tabby Tort cat which she called Lace. Lace she adored and poured her affection onto. She could be like this, too with friend's babies. Stephen would watch Verity and Lace together cuddling and cooing he thought what a wonderful Mother Verity would make. It was the public and private contrasts of Verity, her intellect and her ever changing stylish beauty that seemed to be the catalyst for Stephens love for her. She would never embarrass him in public by flirting with others. In public she was his and in private she seemed to reinforce this with her warmth and affection.
Lovemaking was different. Both Stephen and she were quite experienced lovers but Verity was very particular and quite limited when it came to sex. Stephen wondered whether her modelling caused her to avoid any activity that might mess her body up. She did not like kissing and she did not like missionary styled sex; when they tried that she would turn her face away as though she was avoiding Stephens face.
She loved Stephen going down on her and that was always the source of her orgasms through vigorous tongue and finger work she would become quite uncharacteristically vocal. Penetration though had to be from behind; but not with her on hands and knees. Stephen guessed rightly that she would consider her butt hole an imperfection. She would want to lie on a pillow legs splayed, akimbo. Picturing Verity in this fashion would always bring Stephen an erection but penetration was something else. As soon he had buried his erection to the point that he could feel her god given arse against his groin she would start to rhythmically wiggle her bum like no other woman he had ever experienced. Twerking if you will. She was able to vary the movements with astounding choreography.
He would have to fight to sustain their lovemaking and prevent premature ejaculation. When they had first bedded they experimented a little but Verity's limitations had disappointed Stephen. This had got to the point that Stephen wondered whether they were sexually compatible and could have been a deal breaker to what sexual future they would have. But it would be Verity's bum that would change all that and ensure their intimate future together.
There remained only one thing about their relationship that Stephen had any misgivings about and that was her behaviour with regard to him, she always seemed a little too correct. In public there was always the display of affection, of belonging. In private Verity's affection, although warm could still be a little off hand or limited. Snuggling was good but there would be no kissing, no wandering off script, and no words of affection. She never said 'I love you' to Stephen, expressing distain about that sort of thing as being insincere and corny.
She always called Stephen by his name and never used terms of endearment. Stephen passed it off as a result of her conservative upbringing but he could not help it causing him some hurt. Expressing it would result in passive aggressive rejection and sometimes he was actually ridiculed for bringing it up. "Oh my poor pussy wussy, not getting enough kisses, oh dear, dear me, do you want mummy to come over and make it all better."
Her worst barbs went to ridiculing his Mother as well. Nothing made Stephen angrier, but to react was to make it worse so he learnt to just bottle it up. He and his brother Paul grew up with his Mother as a single parent and he was very close to her. His mother was a retired lawyer from a wealthy family that was not close. Stephen had never wanted for anything and was extremely proud and fond of her. However such barbs were not frequent and in the long run did not undermine their relationship.
Stephen and Verity married. It was not a huge wedding but it was stylish and of course it made its way into the fashion magazines. They honeymooned in Lombok and returned to settle into a married life which pretty well matched their single life until Amos was born. Although they lost the spontaneity of a single life, Amos did bring some new variety and a burst of new happiness.
Verity finally left teaching to concentrate on her writing and the baby. With the help of their respective Mothers Verity and Stephen were able to keep up their round of social arrangements whether it was ballet, fashion shows, or writers week. It was always quite full. There were dinner parties with friends and both made regular visits to the gym.
At this stage they were able to go together because Verity's Mum lived close by. It had been a reasonably easy pregnancy and apart from a rather long difficult birth everything turned out OK. Stephen was with her every step of the way including ante natal classes and attending the birth. Following the birth Verity's figure returned to normal quickly and remarkably unscathed.
Hugo's birth 18 months later was a different matter and exacerbated by the death of Verity's Mother, Agnes shortly before the birth. Verity was an only child. Her Mother had been a ballet dancer and also been a fashion designer of some repute when she was young. She was very close to her Mother as Stephen was to his. Verity's father, Arthur Brow was a District Court Judge. From him came her love of words. Her admiration of him however was tempered as he was a very distant character.
Verity's second pregnancy did not begin as auspiciously as the first. This time the morning sickness was worse. Agnes fell ill suddenly with meningitis in Verity's eight month of pregnancy. The sudden death and the loss of her Mothers support traumatised Verity to the point that Hugo was born prematurely.
