The Village

~ Prelude : December ~

The sky is such a pale shade of blue it is almost white.

Wrapping my scarf around my neck against the chill I traverse the narrow footpath into the vast open space of the Park, amongst the frost covered grass remain crystalised patches of snow that refuse to melt following the heavy wintry dump of snow seven days previous.

Hands plunged into my pockets against the biting wind I step on into the park that is bathed in pale midwinter Sun. Surprised not to see others out making the most of their weekend. Spare for a couple of Dog Walkers the large space is bereft of any other signs of life. Not even the usual resident ducks are present, although admittedly their vast pond is covered in a thick slab of ice.

Almost to my surprise two figures step along the path towards me from behind a coppice of trees, two female figures. One wrapped up against the elements in a balky olive over coat that sits almost to her ankles with a hood up over her head. The other a far slender younger looking female dressed all in black, including a short black leather biker jacket and a black beanie pulled over exceptionally long bright auburn hair that stands out spectacularly in the pale surroundings. Between them a scruffy looking small dog walks off a lead.

The canine seeing my approach as an uninstructed command to immediately bound in my direction. Before I know it, he, or maybe she is panting at my feet before jumping up at my shins.

"Pippin...No pippin." The anonymous female calls out from under her hood, almost sounding concerned even if not in anyway authoritative. "She's harmless... she won't bite."

The detail on her dog's unlikely inclination to savage my shins is somewhat reassuring, so much so that I even bend to pet the creature with a gloved hand. Pippin then immediately becomes guarded as she growls on bared teeth and backs away from my attempted touch. Making me consider if my fingers may now be a target instead of my shins.

"Come here Pip you naughty little beastie," I hear the female in the overcoat chastise as she stands over me now like an olive snowman as she clips a lead to the pink collar around the errant mutt's neck.

As I stand, I recognise the face from under the hood. Maureen Redmond, Mo as she is known to most of the village residents who must happen across her as regularly as I do as she runs the local Post Office. A pleasant smile casts across her face as she greets me.

"Sorry about that Steven" she offers sincerely, "She's a little rascal."

"Oh, not to worry....looks like she was more scared of me than anything else," I offer in response.

"Now why would anyone be scared of you?" Maureen retorts.

I glance beyond her as the slender form of her walking companion approaches, her arms wrapped around herself, either against the elements or born of very defensive body language. I would place her at around thirty years of age. The black hood of her sweatshirt sits around her slender neck and beneath her fitted black leather jacket and long hair, skinny black jeans with a ripped left knee clad her legs to black square heeled ankle boots.

Her weary eyes briefly meet mine before they fall back to the floor, her pale complexion unhidden behind any existence of makeup, makeup that in truth would struggle to hide her tired painfully weary looking eyes. Her wavy auburn hair the only glow to her person but it only serves to accentuate her monotone appearance.

"You've not met my daughter, have you?" Maureen offers stepping aside but I note how the young woman deliberately avoids further approach, eying me suspicion briefly. "Rosie this is Steven he lives over in Bluebell Cottage... moved there after his Mum died, you remember me saying?"

The young red head offers barely a nod from under her thick black woollen beanie hat. Eye contact still refused.

"Anyway, Steven this is my Rosie she's moved back in with me for a bit since..." Maureen's words trail off as she fires off introductions at a million miles an hour, almost nervously so especially on stopping short of the pertinent detail as to why her haunted looking daughter is living back home with her.

"It's just Rose now Mum," I hear the redhead half heartedly interject on a painfully meek yet clearly frustrated tone.

I watch as she passes the dog lead backwards to her daughter, who somewhat reluctantly accepts the innocuous responsibility. "Take her down by the pond... she'll do her business there."

As Rosie trudges away at a slow pace across the frosted grass Maureen Redmond holds an uncomfortable smile as she looks back towards me. I sense there is further conversation to follow.

"It's all I can do to even get her to leave the house..." Maureen offers as soon as the young redhead is out of ear shot, "...Steven, I know you used to be a Psychologist..."

"Used to be," I cut across her immediately, second guessing where the conversation is headed.

"Well, it's just... you know... she's been so so troubled... what with everything... everything she went through," Maureen ambiguously offers, and I see the tears well in her eyes, "...I...I was just wondering...if you could come over and well..."

Maureen does not finish her words yet again, stopping herself as another dog walker passes by behind me. Inwardly I cringe even on the immediate feeling of a professional pull towards the need for assistance. A pull born of a previous life that I have moved on from even if I have not forgotten.

"It's not as simplistic as that..." I state my eyes following the painfully thin figure that silhouettes against the scenery as she leads the dog across the open field, "...I've not practiced for five years now... it would take time and more importantly Rosie needs to be ready."

"I can make sure she is..." Maureen offers with a conviction that may be misplaced, "...I just want my Rosie back."

My eyes remain on her daughter, as she lets Pippin off the lead once more and the dog starts to root around in longer frozen grass, even from a distance her body language is notably forlorn.

I turn my attention back to Maureen, who has fallen silent alongside my own quiet contemplation. A spark igniting in me, a spark that threatens to light a fire that had once burned inside of me.

"I am also going to need to know everything that's happened to her... everything."

Processing my words a haunted look now creeps across Maureen Redmond's face.

**********

~ Nineteen months later; July ~

The sun beams down from on high, barely casting a shadow.

I watch her from a distance. Resplendent in a light yellow dress that sits just below her knee and is littered with a design of little flowers, a white lightweight cardigan sat upon her arms offering protection against the sun.

Her effortless smile beams as she offers words I cannot hear in exchange to the trader who wraps her purchase into a brown paper bag. The market stalls amongst which she navigates were the very definition of a perfect English summer scene, the air was filled with the mingled scents of fresh produce, and even fresher baked bread.

Stood under the canopy of the beer tent, the biggest draw for myself of the annual Agriculture Show, I lean casually against a wooden post supping on pint of murky coloured Cider, my eyes fixed on one person amongst the idyllic scene before me.

My Wife, Rosie, watching as she gracefully moves through the crowd, her gentle laughter echoes like music as she interacts with the various vendors at the Farmers Market. She pauses a moment to inspect a basket of ripe strawberries, her auburn hair catching the sun as she bends her body forward for a closer inspection a smile held across her lips. She is a vision, radiant, full of life, effortlessly drawing the attention of all of those around her. It was all as a result of my hard work.

Jake Parkinson a long-time friend strolls up beside me, a bemused grin spreading across his face until he follows the direction of my gaze.

"How did you get so lucky Steven Colwell?" Jake chuckles as he crosses his arms across his chest. "Of everyone she could have chosen... she chose you... Look at her she's a magnet for attention!"

I chuckle at my long time friend's insinuation as I shake my head slightly. "You know how it is... but maybe I did just get lucky."

Jake laughs, his eyes glinting with playful envy. "Lucky?...You should be charging admission for the show she puts on... Look at her, everyone's eyes are on her... Like model walking a runway... the whole market is her audience."

I could not help but feel a swell of pride at Jake's words but dare not even allude to the truth of her attraction to me. I glance back at Rosie, who was now playfully haggling with a vendor over a bunch of herbs, her animated expressions making the whole exchange feel like a dance. It was moments like these that reminded me just how lucky I am, not just born of her aesthetic beauty but of the aura she radiates.

"You know," Jake continued, a teasing tone creeping into his voice, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were some kind of hypnotist, and she's under your spell."

Rolling my eyes, I offer a smile, but a panic gnaws at mind on his words meant in jest. There was a sarcastic smile tugging at his lips as I coldly respond. "Something of an impossibility that my friend... otherwise I'd obviously lure you an unsuspecting partner."

"Seriously, though," Jake said, his tone shifting to sincerity. "You two are great together. Somehow you work. It is good to see, she lights up a room and your face...You are one very lucky man."

My panic subsiding, I feel it replaced by a warmth of pride, of smug satisfaction as I glance back again toward Rosie as she approaches, before I offer to Jake, "We have a connection with one another."

I use a partial truth to mask a lie.

For the last 18 months I have rebuilt Rosie from the fragments of a young woman that her past had left her in. She had only finally opened up to me and confided in me in March of last year two months after the untimely death of her Mother, Maureen as a result of a brain tumour.

My initial attempts at Maureen's request to assist Rosie to face and begin to manage her crippling traumas had been vehemently refused by the auburn haired 29 year old. Following her Mothers death and spiralling into the depths of further depression she had turned up literally at my door, soaked to the skin in the middle of the night. The rain that lashed down upon her failing to hide the tears that streaked her pale gaunt face.

"Help me..." she had weakly implored as she collapsed into my arms, "Please... please... help me."

Rosie had been anonymous to the rest of the Village on her arrival back to her family home, she had hidden herself away seeking as much solitude in her existence as possible even when her Mother had been alive. Her presence at the funeral had been fleeting. Attending the church service alone but not even being emotionally strong enough to face the burial.

Worried for her given the abhorrent state of her mental health I had convinced Rosie to move into the inherited Cottage in which I now lived. Giving me both the time and access to the young woman I needed to even begin to psychoanalyse her fragile mind. What she opened up to eventually shocked and disgusted me in equal measure.

A life she had worked hard to build destroyed on misadventure, a blossoming career as Teacher at a reputable educational establishment lost on her own foolishness and naivety across one fateful and sordid night. The consequences of that night sending her into a spiral ultimately of increased and debauched promiscuity. Villagers would look on Rosie with different, judgemental, eyes if they knew her truth as I did.

Over months she struggled with how to compartmentalise the events that had eventually led to her subjugation at the hands of a man who she had built such mental barriers around that she could not even recall his name or his face. A man who had kept her enslaved in a worthless existence, treating her as nothing but a vessel from which to gain immoral pleasure.

Rosie came to embody the most challenging patient with whom I had ever worked. As we grew close, as I earned her trust. I sought through deep guided meditations and suggested affirmations to rebuild Rosie's fractured mind. Rebuilding her mind, suppressing her painful memories, and steadily reconditioning her into the pleasant radiant young woman the world around her now saw. My greatest challenge becoming my proudest achievement.

By late Summer in my presence, and under cautious guidance I had stared to reintroduce Rosie socially. The pretence of the vivacious auburn beauty in my company accepted as a relationship, a relationship I had manufactured within her psyche. Making her dependent on myself, my guidance, my suggestion on her every moment.

Her mind was not her own, it was mine to control.

We had married the following February, a simple ceremony one in keeping with the low key nuptials that Rosie believed she had always wanted. Witnessed by the Registrar and two witnesses who worked at the Registry Office we visited only for the purpose of the legal ceremony. With no existing family for either of us the ruse was bought by friends and colleagues who chastised us for not including them but bought into the romance of our perceived secretive elope.

Maureen Redmond had asked me to bring her Rosie back. As I watch her breeze effortlessly towards me through both the familiar and unfamiliar faces of the Agricultural Show I could only sincerely hope Maureen would be proud of and approve of my reincarnation of her only child.

"Time spent in the bedroom helps form a connection I'm willing to bet," Jake crassly adds.

I refuse to respond to his comment. Stood in silence for a moment as Rosie steps to my side and I note the bulging contents of the laden Tote bag hung over her right shoulder.

"Hey..." she offers kissing me on the cheek before she turns her attention to my friend. "...How are you, Jake?"

"Nothing a few more beers in this tent won't solve," Jake offers on a raised brow. "You are spending all this man's savings I see?"

"Got them all for a steal," she states playfully rising to his insinuation while slipping her hand into mine.

"See..." Jake says, nudging me a little to viscously, "Another redeeming feature... A woman who knows the value of your hard earned money."

I laugh, despite not fully appreciating Jake's attempt at humour.

His unbridled envy leaves me feeling grateful, not for his brash camaraderie but for the beautiful young woman who made my heart race every single day. As I look to my right I watch her tuck long auburn hair away from her pale face behind her right ear.

Realising that the little moments like this, the blend of admiration for one another, our friendship, and our long kindled love were truly what made her so beautiful and the envy of those around us, especially Jake Parkinson.

**********

Closing the door on the cottage I welcome the drop in temperature the cold stone walls of the Cottage provide as I set the heavily laden Tote bag down on the bottom step of the staircase to the first floor of the property.

Rosie steps ahead of me slipping her cardigan down her arms to hang it on a hook the hallway. My eyes fall immediately over her slender figure as the dress clings to her frame on slender shoulder straps.

"Come here," I request stepping into the living room.

Her high heels echo down the hall as she turns and steps into the sun drenched room. Sheer white voile drapes fail to block out the heat or illumination of the sun, even as heavy shade from the tree lined garden starts to creep into the room.

Stood on a dark burgundy persian rug in the centre of the room Rosie steps before me and I cast my eyes from her face to her exposed chest and down the front of her lemon coloured dress that is covered in little lilac flowers. I reach my hand to cradle her pale jaw her blue eyes holding on mine on an intense gaze.

"Everyone was transfixed by your beauty..." I commend her, "...I'm so happy you are mine."

Rosie simply sweetly smiles at my compliment.

"Your dress... take it off," is my simple request.

Without hesitation as I step back Rosie reaches delicate long fingers to the simple little buttons that run through the centre of the light cotton garment. As the dress comes undone, she tantalising reveals glimpses of her body to me. Taking her time until every little button from her chest to the hem of the dresses skirt is undone, with out further insinuation she peels the dress open by the straps over her shoulder and slips it down the backs of her arms, letting the garment fall gently to the floor behind her.

Her perfect physique takes my breath away. I let my eyes cast over svelte body as I walk slowly around her, scooping up the dress and resting it over the arm of a tan brown leather sofa.

Her porcelain pale body clad in a pale yellow bra with a simple little purple silk flower between her breasts, a little pair of matching knickers sit upon her hips. The pale sheer stockings that wrap her legs are topped with a matching lemon yellow lace detail that cling tightly to her thighs.

"Everyone's eyes upon you... every male lusting after you..." I state, "...but you're mine."

Rosie's bashfulness flushes her cheeks a little as I take a step back before issuing my next instruction, "On your knees for me Rosie."

Gracefully, without question, Rosie slowly takes to her knees before me, one stocking clad knee taking to the dark burgundy rug then the other, her hands gently come to rest upon the lace detail that wrap her toned thighs. I lower my zip fly as I step back towards her.

As my hand slips through her auburn hair, she knows exactly what I want from her. A satisfied groan passing my lips as Rosie allows me to guide her head slowly forward onto to my engorged phallus as I slip it through my fly.

As a welcome and unexpected breeze drifts through the open windows billowing the sheer white curtains I feel her tongue work around me, teasing me, sating my desire moments before her cheeks hollow and her hands slip firmly up the backs of my thighs.

For the next five minutes her mouth works diligently back and forth over me pleasuring me, her soft gargled noises building alongside heavy nasal breath as I feel her begin to coax my release.

"That's it... that's it Rosie..." I offer as my right hand rescinds its firm grip from across the back of her head and my left hand presses upon her left shoulder.

As Rosie slips her mouth from around me, her hands slip to her sides in the same moment. My right hand replaces the feel of her mouth and grips firmly around my saliva soaked length.

"Lean back," I instruct as holding her knelt position she lowers her thighs against the back of stocking clad legs, outstretched arms reaching back to the floor behind her to support her frame, her back arching slightly.

I take one look at her as she acts on my command, her eyes on mine as she presents her upper body to me. My hand works at a pace, tensing my grip, clenching my fingers against my base as I finish what Rosies mouth has begun.

Her soft sharp inhale of breath fills the room as I ejaculate. My deposit streaks across her right cheek and over her now softly closed eyes, trailing across her forehead into her auburn hair. Two more strands of thick white release escape my body, settling across her neck and exposed cleavage.

As she continues to kneel before me, I witness my tribute leave a watery glisten upon her as it putrefies and slides down her alabaster skin, running down her flushed face and between firm round pale breasts as it seeps into the lemon coloured silk bra.

"My beautiful wife," I breathlessly state.

**********

~Three months later; October ~