Primrose

Hello everyone! Primrose is a six part series that is certainly different than my usual fare. You can expect things like levity, some guilt free sex scenes, and a suspicious absence of incredibly terrifying tags!

Don't worry, I haven't lost my fangs, Hannah Despaired will return in full force. If you think this is a normal Loving Wives story, I challenge you to read on and see what tropes are subverted as the series progresses. Remember, nothing is as it seems. As always please observe the tags.

I want to thank my friends Logan, Katie, and Kayla. Thank for your continued unconditional support. You are all gems. My best to my contemporaries Logan_Roedell, Tenehua_Xochipoca, Scott_Green, Antarctica77, BenjaminScribes, Eddie Wilder, Sigma, Vivian White (RoleplayLiterate), Rabblelaid, Jackal54641, mad5226, Tanya_Beige, Jebbediah Bell, NoTalentHack, PufferFish, Rambling Chantrix, and to everyone who has supported my writing, it means a tremendous amount to me.

Enjoy!

***

Primrose. A Prestige Community.The sign read as Kourt and Dave drove through the gates of the neighborhood that would be their new home, their energy was undeniably palpable. Her hand searched for his excitedly, her spirit now unburdened with the past. Her fingers wrapped around his, as she looked over and saw that he was wearing the most radiant, endearing smile she had ever seen.

They had arrived. After years of careful ambition, and tactful saving, they finally had their dream home in a neighborhood that was simply peerless in their eyes. As they parked in their driveway, moving truck not far behind, Kourt wistfully reflected on how Primrose was nothing short of perfection incarnate, a place of hope, dignity, and prosperity. As Dave unlocked the door to their new residence, they stepped over the threshold together, hand in hand, assured that the most beautiful chapter of their life had began, in a place that would only nurture their resolve to help them find true community, friends, and opportunity.

She wrapped her arm around his waist as he pulled her closer to him, smelling the rich scent of vanilla and honey produced by her signature perfume. They smiled, looking through the shimmering sliding glass doors on their patio towards the backyard, which was smaller than they were told. Significantly so. They noticed that the lake that was promised in the promotional material and by their Realtor was now a bubbling, filthy retention pond. But it didn't matter. Not to them, and certainly not at this moment. This was their new life.

Primrose however, had a life of its own, it was a place where luxury golf carts carried wine moms like palanquins of old, towards seductive and often malicious liaisons across the neighborhood. Most residents were quick to dismiss their social standing and abundance of wealth. They were after all, adamant that they were the last vestiges of the quickly perishing middle class, whose kids' first car was an Audi S8 or BMW 760i, personalized, and enhanced with every luxury package available. All of the residents wereself made,despite their sizable and generational inheritances.

Every husband, was in contest with one another to prove their masculinity and desire to be seen, so they drove colossal trucks that engulfed the narrow neighborhood roads. They didn't need them for work, nor utility, but instead status, as to them, it was affirming that their manhood that could never be called into question. Ever.

Of course, this resulted in the near constant comedy of pavement princesses the size of small houses trying to navigate utterly foreign concepts like a roundabout, a driveway, speed limits, intersections, stop signs, or sidewalks,mostlydodging joggers and strollers alike.

Yes, these proud, dapper and dashing men always dressed their best, in aged, worn flip flops and raggedy cargo shorts. When they wanted to class it up, they would wear an ill fitting polo, usually without a stain. No one knows what any of them do for a living, they themselves don't even know, but they do make a lot of money, that much is always evident, just not by looking at them.

There are of course exceptions. There were a group of men who hungrily stole wives, using their flawless aesthetic forms, and endowments that would make even the most confident of husbands insecure. Many were laden with anxiety of the encroaching inevitability of their marriage's disintegration.

Of course, this wasn't to ignore or dismiss the loving wives of Primrose, who wore the most fashionable, form hugging attire imaginable at every event, everyday. Almost all of them were ethereal visions of luxury, who wore Hermès athleisure on days when they wanted to present themselves as more casual. Sure they might have had some "work" done, but it was truly necessary to fit in.

Asides from their local PTA's and HOA's and other insufferable acronyms, these stunning debutantes held council at the local country club, with its esteemed professional golf course, it wasn't just an exquisite marvel of luxury, it was the very heart of the community and they were it's queens. To their delight, there were many topics to discuss. Such as the mysterious phenomenon of how vasectomies seemed to have a much higher rate of failure in Primrose, as to why this was, no one knew.

Primrose was a place of dozens of families leading hundreds of lives, with almost all the homes appearing the same. The bedrock of the neighborhood despite it's extreme luxury, was built on that of a quiet desperation. They all held the same beliefs. They all held the same rehearsed conversations. They lived in prisons made of their own fraudulent wealth, where gossip was the only economy of value in the neighborhood.

But for Kourt and Dave, it wasbliss.

***

Kourt sat the last heavy box down with a cathartic thud on the sleek, polished mahogany floor. Dave whistled playfully at her shapely rear, as he squeezed by. She smiled jubilantly, biting her lip and jumping up and down while clapping, "We made it!"

She hugged him tightly, smelling his pungent, peppery cologne, which had become comfortable to her over the years, an olfactory signature of the memories they shared. He kissed the side of her neck, and broke their embrace. Crossing his arms, he studied the breadth of the living room with an assured pride that made her swoon. Running his hand across the gray marble kitchen top, smooth and flawless, he eventually knocked it with his knuckles, producing a firm echo.

One by one she unpacked their pans and pots, all the same color of muted red, which made for perfect accents for the counters. The kitchen equipment from mixers to fryers was especially heavy, and taxed her immensely to unpack. She steadily arranged every piece, finding proper homes for all their appliances and sets.

Lastly she unpacked her cherry wood vintage tea cabinet, her most prized possession, the subtle scars and chips that were missing from the hastily applied lacquer never once bothered her. Every imperfection told a story, made her think of those who owned it before, and the same calm it must have brought them. To her confusion, her tea tins, infusers, and accessories were curiously at the bottom of the box. Dave had packed it, but in their rush to leave, she understood why it might not have been a priority, after all he had his own guitars to consider.

With practiced ceremony and grace she carefully assembled her shrine of harmony and joy, nestling it in the corner of the kitchen, organizing her teas by type and flavor. As she looked across the foyer, she imagined what the house would like once fully furnished. Savoring already what it would be like to elevate it, to slowly transform it into a palace of complete peace, obsessing over light fixtures and interior decor, ensuring it was all perfect. It was a tremendous project, but for their forever home, there was nothing she wouldn't do.

Kourt sauntered over and gave Dave a peck on his cheek from behind, her delicate, short fingers tracing sweet circles on his chest, before she rested her chin on his shoulder, her voice giddy as she spoke. "You know what? I'm gonna go introduce myself to our new neighbors! I want everyone to know the Hobbes have arrived."

"Yeah? Sounds good babes. Just be careful. I don't want anyone creeping on my wife."

"Oh my gawsh Dave stop! Why don't you come with if you're so worried?"

"To be honest, I'd rather unpack, make sure we can get started on setting up the rooms. For real though, any red blooded man is gonna take a good, long look at you." He winked at her playfully, as she sighed, he continued speaking as he moved another cardboard box.

"Trust me. I'm a guy, I know how I feel when I see a beautiful woman."

"So,youdo think I'm beautiful."

"Ha, you know it."

She held the idea that he would offer her a thrilling kiss, to prove his feelings, but she also knew how busy he was transforming the empty space before them into a home. That effort alone was as romantic as anything she could have imagined.

Dave looked at the boxes around them, especially those containing his personal home office equipment. "I'm gonna keep working. Don't worry, I'll introduce myself later. Ok?"

"Okey dokey! But don't spend too much energy tiger, we can have lot's of fun tonight."

While he was busy opening boxes and arranging the contents within, he missed the playful wink and subtle display of cleavage she offered. She smirked as she spun on her heel, slipped back into her all white trainers, adjusted her running shorts and tank top, not wanting to seem improper, seeking to deliver the best first impression possible. She stepped out, took a hard right, and headed next door.

***

In front of Kourt was a gray house, utterly unremarkable, but decidedly modern. While normally such a bland architectural design would have made it difficult to differentiate homes, the one in front of her was beautifully manicured and subtly personalized, with rows of native Floridian flowers, plants, and a small greenhouse in the back, visible from where she stood on the sidewalk. She walked up to the front door and knocked twice, her smile beaming.

As she waited with patience, and continued to admire the property, she inhaled deeply. The hypnotic scent of fresh blooms eclipsed her world, a bounty of overwhelming citrus, bergamot, and clove, smelling like the cultivated perfume of the earth itself. She heard a soft and eloquent man's voice call out to her. "Feel free to enter through the gate!"

She could easily see around the fence, and realized that there was no reason to hesitate in her approach. For the first time that she could recall, she didn't need to approach a neighbor worrying about what, or who they were. Suspicions of someone being an incestuous serial killer, deranged art gallery owner, or predatory ugly bastard, wasn't something she had to worry about. Primrose was a place of dignity, refinement, and class. She pushed the gilded, engraved sliding bolt against the wooden gate and entered the backyard.

From around the corner, stood an older man with narrow features, a charming smile worn under his wide brimmed straw hat, perfectly clean shaven, pale skin succumbing to time, appearing as a heat distorted mirage of his own youth. He stepped forward and extended his hand, towering over her incredibly short height, she noticed there was no wedding band visible on his left hand. His voice was calm, with a distinct accent, from where, seemed unknowable to her.

"Greetings. Splendid afternoon isn't it? It's a pleasure to meet you. I presume you must be the new neighbor?

"Gawsh, yes we are! Or, sorry, I am. My name's Kourt, my husband Dave is unpacking. We're stoked to be here. Seriously. We came from-"

"Stupendous. Say no more. I'm Samuel Chamberlain. An absolute pleasure to meet your countenance."

He sheathed his shears in his smock and looked around his garden with a sly pride, everything aesthetically engineered to perfection, the stems and stalks where flowers bloomed wildly, were restrained by delicate wire, urged to grow in directions that pleased him. Other vines, and shrubs were efficient, minimalist accents of color. Rows of artistically trimmed bonsai, adorned an unblemished cobblestone path to his patio. He wiped some sweat from his brow with a handkerchief emblazoned with his initials, sighing before he continued.

"Kourt was it? I assume that's short for Kourtney?"

"Yes! It is. Sorry, I should have used my full-"

"It's fine my dear. No worries. So how many?"

"Come again?"

"How many little ones? What are their names?"

"Oh, none. Jeez, Dave and I..."

Kourt studied the ground, a sudden abyssal weight dragged her back from her exuberance. Samuel clicked his tongue, as if sharing her displeasure at the statement.

"Oh that's a terrible shame, I understand that sometimes these things, are biological, even philosophical. I meant no offense, that faux pas is on me. In this world I understand the hesitance or the limitations of conception."

"You are so understanding, thank you, I think that's why we're so excited to be here, like... no one would realistically judge us for that. Even though there's a lot of families here. Kind of a crazy amount actually."

"Of course. My wife, god rest her soul, during her prior marriage, had many fertility issues. Truly, it was a terrible struggle for them both. Her first husband wasn't quite capable of keeping this matter polite and civil between them. Sadly, out of pride, he left her, but what a blessing no? We found each other and raised three beautiful daughters and two amazing sons. Life can be incredibly fulfilling if you letnaturerun it's course."

"Wow, gawsh that's a story. I'm sorry about your-"

"It's been many years now. She's in my heart now, always, and forever."

Kourt's eyes widened when she took in the totality of her surroundings. "Holy smokes! Your garden is beautiful by the way."

Samuel smiled, gaunt under his hat, gesturing with his hand towards his pride and art. "Thank you. Truly a challenging hobby. But it keeps me busy, along with the grandchildren."

"Oh my goodness! You have grand kids? That's so exciting, like wow, I can't imagine."

"It's quite fun. When they're over next, I'll introduce you. You'd love my daughter, Valerie, close to your age. Do you garden by chance?"

"No, I don't have much time."

Samuel retrieved some clippings and seeds, placing them in a small bag. "Your soil in your backyard, near that corner to the east? Isveryfertile. The couple that resided there before you, I helped them learn about what can be cultivated from a simple seed, so I would suggest planting them there. All mostly hands off, just water them once a day, you'll see growth in time."

"Oh my gawsh, you are so sweet! This is way too kind of you Samuel."

"You're very welcome. And not a problem. Welcome to the neighborhood Kourtney."

"Thank you! It's Kourt though."

"Pardon me, my memory isn't quite what it once was! Ahh the ravages of time. I digress, I like Kourtney though, a truly fetching name. But, Kourt is is."

He shook her hand softly, almost angling it to kiss it, but remaining steadfast in respecting her space. "You ever need anything, feel free to ask."

She remained affixed, admiring Samuel's gentlemanly refinement. She blushed subtlety before calmly waving goodbye and walking away. He watched her leave, admiring her figure, full, womanly, her long brown and red hair reminded him of autumn in the Northeast. He smiled softly, and returned to his work.

***

After leaving, Kourt took a hard left, heading past their own home, towards an unremarkable, but fastidiously clean residence. She ascended the small steps onto the patio, observing a sleek floating bench with a series of books sitting nearby, perfectly arranged, all on the subject of aviation and drones. She knocked softly on the intricately engraved teak door. There was shuffling inside. The door opened, standing before her was a tall middle aged man with a short blonde coif, fair complexion, cold gray eyes, a weary expression across his soft face, beset by polished salt and pepper stubble.

His presence, was overwhelmingly intense to her, yet was also somehow calming. Stowing her nerves, her voice was sonorous and jubilant.

"Hello! My name is Kourt, my husband and I, just moved in next door, I wanted to introduce myself."

The man gradually smiled, and when he did, it felled any coldness before, it was warm and eased her apprehension. He extended his hand, his handshake was firm, his eyes never leaving hers. He crossed his broad arms, his voice surprisingly deep with a wry inflection.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Seriously. We haven't had neighbors in maybe a little over a year? I can't even tell you how many people toured that house. I'm Bradley, been here since the community opened."

"It's sooo nice to meet you! I just met Samuel, opposite us, he's lovely, like an absolute gentleman. Well spoken, sounds like a professor."

Bradley chuckled softly. "He's a character, but in a good way. Funny, he actually was a professor. Taught classical literature I believe. Seems to have a lot of visitors, they come and go. Oh, sorry, I wanted to mention, my daughter Adelaide, lives with me also. She's not home right now though."

"Oh my gawsh! That's awesome, when does she get out of school?"

"No, no. She's nineteen. She's coaching soccer right now. Youth league."

"That's so sweet. Goodness, I still have more people to meet."

"I think you'll findalmosteveryone here to be pretty amicable. With some exceptions, but that's everywhere really. The rest of our block is small, but I've known everyone here for a while. Actually we were the second family to move into Primrose when it opened."

She found him to be disarming, genuine, and while Kourt knew she could be a notoriously poor, some would say utterlynaivejudge of character, she felt at ease around him. She couldn't deny however, that there was something in him that was truly somber. It mellowed the excitement she felt, wondering why he seemed so distant, yet present at the same time. She had to raise her voice over the sound of sprinklers drizzling mostly on concrete. "Anything I should know? About anyone here? Wow that sounded like, really weird didn't it?"

"No! I getcha. Not a problem. Well, across the street is Marlowe. He's, a bit of a cold dude. I really can't remember his wife's name...Priya? That sounds right. I think they have two kids? Maybe three? We only spoke a couple of times."

"Gaw-lee. That's kind of hard to believe. Everyone here seems so sweet."

"I mean, you'll see for yourself, I don't want you to think wrongly of the guy before you even meet him. The house at the end of the cul de sac, that's where my ex wife Em lives. There's no... bad blood between us. But she can be a bit intense. Just so you know."

"Intense?"

"She's just very hyperactive. Talks fast. Loves gossiping. That's all. So take everything and I meaneverythingshe says with a grain of salt."

"You betcha. I will."

She wondered if he had been lying, maybe he was, maybe he was holding on to some miasma of resentment and anger at Em for the dissolution of their marriage. Relationships were difficult, challenging, and fraught with threats at every angle both internally and externally. Truth in words and actions should be the policy of any successful partnership. She knew that not all of them could be as strongly tempered hers was.

Kourt turned back around, spinning on her heel, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. Bradley kept his arms crossed, her profile offering a clear view of her Roman nose that made her shapely lips look pronounced, and inviting. She waved goodbye with a beaming broad smile,"Well, I'll be on my way! Nice meeting you!"