Sororate Chapter 10 *Updated*

10th October 2237

It was a dark, rainy night and a wet gust whooshed past to rattle the windows. It whistled around the eves of the house, escalating into a scream. I could hear the branches creak in the surrounding forest, as they bent wildly in the wind. I imagined it must have been cold and dismal outside, meanwhile we were safe and snug indoors.

I found Declan standing at the kitchen sink, washing up the mess from dinner. Music played softly in the background, I think from an early 21st Century band called ‘Cold Play’. I recognized their album ‘Viva La Vidas’, as the atmospheric tunes suited the quiet of our two-person house.

I thought I'd managed to silently sneak up behind, but he didn’t act surprised when I wrapped my arms about his waist. He may not have heard me coming, but he smelled my approach instead. My hands slid down the front of his long-sleeved t-shirt, to delve into his jean pockets.

Playfully, I bit through the fabric and into his skin. “Grrrr!”

“Hello there," he smiled as he worked.

Contentedly, I hugged him from behind. “Wotcha doin’?”

“The frickin’ dishwasher has carked it again.” He sighed. “I’ll pull it apart tomorrow after work.”

“Don’t do the washing up tonight, I’ll do it tomorrow morning.” I offered.

“I don’t mind," he said evenly. "I've already started."

My hands dug deeper into his front pockets, "you cook and I clean, remember?”

“Careful, you might hit somethin’,” he chuckled.

“Maybe that’s what I want to do?” I taunted.

“And you choose to do this NOW, when I’m up to my elbows in hot, soapy, greasy water?”

“Oh and what about the time you pounced on me in the greenhouse, when I was up to my elbows in potting mix?” I bit into his back again. “Or what about last week, when I was in the middle of my weekly beauty regime?”

“What can I say, hair removal turns me on.” He laughed.

“Eeew!” I tickled him, making him laugh harder. “Anything turns YOU on!”

“So I’m a dog.” He joked about his supernatural status. “When I’m living with one of the prettiest girls in the tribe, I can’t help myself.”

My hands returned to his front pockets. “What if I’m living with the hottest guy in the tribe?”

“Mmm.” He paused in his task, as he closed his eyes to savor the moment. “A little to the left… now down a little… ah yes. That’s it…!”

I left several wet, bite marks in his t-shirt, as I chewed my way down his spine. Meanwhile, my hands were shoved so far down his pockets, the front of his jeans were almost pulled down. But he wasn't exactly complaining, either.

“Mmm…” he groaned appreciatively, “…now this is the life.”

“It is?” I paused to listen.

“Hey, who said you could stop?” He humorously grouched. “Return to work!”

I giggled as I obeyed his command.

“Yep this is the life, B.” He closed his eyes again. “Just you and me in the warm indoors on a cold, rainy night.”

Then he opened his eyes again to hurry up and finish the job. My hands left his pockets to run underneath his clothing. To further taunt, my nails extended slightly to run over his hot skin, as I bit into his right shoulder blade. Declan sped up again, with the cleaned cutlery tossed into the dish rack.

“Faster than a speeding bullet,” I remarked.

“Except where it counts, of course.”

“Oh so modest!”

“Oh so honest.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Does my woman have any complaints?”

I pretended to think about it before I chirped out, “nope!” I felt him shake with inward laughter as he continued. Then I sighed loudly as I released him, to hop up onto the kitchen bench nearby. “Declan…?”

“B…?”

“Declan,” I started again, "we’ve been married for 147 years.”

“Yes we have."

“Are you happy?” I asked, as I watched his face to see his reaction.

He paused in his task, to look over his shoulder at where I was sitting. The expression on his face said, ‘here we go again’. Then he returned to the dishes as he spoke.

“No B, I’m miserable.” He said sarcastically. “Wow, you really are like clockwork, you know that?”

“What d’ya mean?” I gave a funny look.

“When your monthly blues comes along, it's never late and always starts on a Sunday. Around the same time, this house runs out of Nutella. You’re premenstrual music like ‘Hinder’, ‘Nickelback’, ‘Sarah McLaughlin’ or even ‘Alanis Morisette’, echoes throughout the house. Around this time, you ask questions like, ‘are you happy?’ or ‘do you still desire me?’”

“Oh I’m sorry for being concerned over my husband’s happiness!” I retorted.

He went on, “after a tribal shindig, you moan about your inability to have kids. After babysitting our relatives' 'small fry', I hear ‘thank God we don’t have kids’. My God woman, if this tribe was invaded by ‘Body Snatchers’, I’d immediately know it wasn’t you!”

“So I’m predictable, is that it?” I asked offended.

“Yup," he stated, "even your unpredictable behavior has predictability in it.”

“Oh really?” I said, deadpan.

“If I think to myself, ‘gee, what would be the most illogical thing that can be done in this situation?’ Then I'll turn my head and see what you’re doing.”

“Unlike you.” I glared, as I crossed my arms defensively.

He started scrubbing the casserole dish he left for last. “Oh yeah and what about me?”

“If I buy pre-made salads from the supermarket, I hear you growl about how it doesn’t taste as good as when YOU make it. If I want to hire a gardener or a repairer, you growl about how YOU can do it yourself. Then you’ll turn your head to see if I’m watching, like you’re showing off! If I’m late home from one of my lectures, I have to put up with YOU yelling about it. If I don’t devote my weekends to YOU and YOU alone, I'll hear you growl about it!”

“Damn straight!” He laughed aloud.

Then he placed the sparkling clean casserole dish with the other crockery, before he drained the water out of the sink. He dried his hands on the tea towel which hung on the oven door, before facing me directly. His expression was one of amusement, as he listened to me rant.

“If I happen to talk to a male like an academic colleague, or even like that guy in the supermarket who only wanted to ask where the condiments were; I have to keep YOU from mauling the poor bastards! You don't just exhibit territorial behavior, but insane jealousy!”

“Sounds about right," he shrugged it off.

“And I’M the one who’s so predictable?”

“Baby, I never said there was anything wrong with predictability. You’re the one who’s getting so defensive about it.” He grinned.

“Of course I’m getting defensive about it! You’re saying it in a negative tone! Your demeanor is implying that there’s something wrong with my behavior!”

“I never said it like that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I always know where the remotes are for the stereo or Internet TV, coz you line them up in order on the coffee table. I like how you fold my clothes and arrange them by color code, as it helps me decide what to wear. I like how you categorize and alphabetize our book shelves and music collection. I like how you rearranged the orchids by color, in the greenhouse. I like that when I undress you, I know what colored underwear I’m gonna see, coz of what day of the week it is…shall I continue?”

I tried to hold back my smile and pretend to still be angry.

Declan turned around to look at the calendar which hung on the refrigerator.

“Tomorrow’s Sunday and…” he opened the fridge door, “…the jar of ‘Nutella’ is missing and…” he gave a smug smile, “…I’m getting the ‘are you happy’ question. B, where the hell is the ‘Alanis Morisette’ music?”

I was trying hard not to laugh by this stage, “the shit I put you through! Oh, poor Declan.”

“I'm WAY worse than you are.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh.” He hopped up to sit on the bench beside. “The guys at the Garage are always telling me so.”

“How so?”

“When I’m checking out women," he said casually.

My mouth fell open in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“A beautiful blonde might come to the Garage and I’ll see her get out of her car but her legs might be too thin. I’ll say to the guys, ‘B’s got better legs than that’. Or a woman with a huge rack in a tight top, might try to flirt with us to get a lower price, but it won’t work on me. I tell them ‘more than a handful is a waste’, as I stare off into the distance and picture yours, round and firm and perfect to bite into.”

Then he caught my eyes wander downwards, as I self-consciously checked myself out, which made him guffaw.

He continued, “it’s the same when a woman with plastic surgery comes by. They may pay to improve their looks, but it certainly doesn’t improve their scent! Man, I hate the smell of silicone or botox or whatever substances they use. It would be like eating steak with cling wrap through it! Hell, I even hate the smell of hair dye.”

I gave him a peculiar look as I wondered why he was telling me all of this?

“I’m 174 years old, B.” He said proudly. “I’m set in my ways, and I demand hard work from my crew. But if the guys catch me staring off into space after a woman leaves the Garage? They know I’m not thinking about her, but I’m thinking about you. They know when you’re away at one of your lectures, coz I’m text messaging you every hour, asking when you'll be home.”

I liked how blunt Declan could be. He called a spade a spade, no more and no less. If you tried to correct him by calling it a shovel, he'd pick up the said spade and hit you over the head with it.

Then he rolled his eyes, “and when my mate of 147 years, asks me if I still want her and why? It makes me want to bang my head against a wall at how you apply commercial ideas of romance, to our relationship. We're not in danger of separation, being biologically joined together. If I don't buy you flowers or take you out to dinner, I'm not bored in the marriage. Sure I think you look pretty when you dress up. But trust me B, you look a damn sight better when there’s no fabric on your body and it’s pressed up against mine.”

This time he did make me giggle, as I gave him a playful shove.

“So...” he leaned in to give an evil grin.

“So what?”

“Tomorrow is Sunday.”

“Yeah and?”

He moved his eyebrows up and down in a ‘hey babe, how about it’ intonation.

“What’s this? You don’t usually ask!” I cracked up laughing. “You just throw me over your shoulder and carry me back to your cave, like the Neanderthal you are!”

“Yeah I do, don’t I?” He chuckled along. “That would be my ‘predictable behavior’ wouldn’t it?”

Happily, he hopped off the bench and then thanks to years of practice, Declan slung me over his shoulder without my feet ever touching the floor. I squealed as I pretended to struggle. With my head hanging upside down, I watched the kitchen disappear and I gathered we were heading for the stairs.

“Hang on," he stopped and turned around.

The next thing I knew, I was being carried into the lounge room.

“Declan, what are you doing?” I squirmed.

I think he came to a stop in front of the stereo system and I heard him change CD's. Just then Alanis Morisette's 'Jagged Little Pill' album, come out of the speakers.

“No way!” I laughed harder. “Turn it up! Turn it up!”

So he did, especially since we didn’t have to worry about disturbing the neighbours. The closest house was a couple of minutes down the road, with woods separating us. This also meant we often left our blinds up or our curtains parted, without anybody around to see in.

The lower level of the house disappeared, as Declan jogged up the stairs and carried his mate into the bedroom before… whoomp! I was flipped onto my back, landing on top of the bed. He fell onto the covers beside, with his hands scurrying to remove the both of our clothes.

Our bedroom was cold and dark, with the sound of the wind-blown rain hitting the windows. With the chill in the air, I appreciated the feel of Declan’s greater body heat. I clung to him, to keep away the chill which he seemed to like. Once he had undone my bra, he held me closer to squash my breasts against his chest.

“Your red lingerie set, yep it must be Saturday.” He carelessly flung it to the floor.

“Hey, this is a new lingerie set.” I pointed out.

“Your last Saturday set were red.”

"Yeah but those were red satin, these are red lace."

“Yeah, they're still red!”

“But this set looks sexier!”

“B, are you seriously starting an argument about your lingerie?”

“Declan, you’re a guy! You’re supposed to notice these things or appreciate them or whatever.” I objected.

“Damn straight I’m a guy, and I appreciate this instead!” He growled, as he moved his torso against mine.

As our skin rubbed together, he was watching how my curves were flattened against his muscle.

I grabbed his head by his hair to make him look up again, “you mean lingerie doesn’t do it for you?”

“I prefer you in less clothes, sure.” He shook my hand off. “But from a guy's point of view, it makes it easier when there’s no fabric barring the way.”

As if to illustrate, I felt him tug off my underwear and then they too were discarded.

“I won’t bother about buying sexy lingerie for you anymore.” I said petulantly.

“Just don’t change colours on me, or I won't know what day it is. If you ever put on Monday’s blue set on a Sunday morning; I'd dress for work, rock up to the Garage and wonder why I was the only one there.” He smiled down.

I giggled again as he removed his boxers along with his jeans and then he laid himself over my body.

He helped himself to raising my knees on either side of his hips, as he moved into position. But instead of rushing into the main course, he rubbed his crotch against the outside of mine. His member moistened with how turned on I became, which was the effect he was aiming for.

“Mmm...” I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensations, “…you’re right, this is the life.”

Declan paused when I said that, which made me open my eyes again to see his expression. He looked like he was glowing at my words. Then his head dove downwards, to kiss with his usual blunt force and hunger. At least that was the good thing about our 'predictability', his constant appetite. As our mouths moved together, he slid inside my prepared body.

“Stick with me kid," he mumbled out, "I’ll take care of you.”

*****

On Monday morning we were woken by the radio coming on Declan’s digital alarm clock. His arm automatically flew over, to turn it off. However, he accidentally hit it too hard when we heard CRACK!

“Huh?” Sleepily, I raised my head to check for damage. The plastic shell of the electrical device had a pronounced crack straight down the middle. “That’s the tenth clock that you’ve killed.”

“It’s only cracked on the top." He said dismissively, as his arm returned to my waist. "See, you can still see the numbers.”

I smiled on how he was doing his typical Monday morning routine. He'd snuggle for an extra five minutes, before he'd haul ass out of bed. Declan closed his eyes again as he buried his face in my long hair.

“We should plan our next holiday.” I said, as I kept my eyes open to keep myself from falling back asleep. “It feels like you’re always working at the Garage.”

“Tell me about it," he grumbled.

“You’ve worked in the same job for 161 years.” I stated.

“Not the SAME job.” He frowned with his eyes shut. “I started off as an apprentice then I was a mechanic and then an assistant manager and now I own the place.”

“Yeah, but you still repair vehicles.”

“I don’t wanna be an owner who just does paperwork, that’s boring.” He rolled onto his back. “Let’s start planning our next holiday. Maybe somewhere with a beach, where there's nothing to do by swim and lie around, under umbrellas. What about Hawaii for a week?”

Usually, hot weather bothered him with his high body temperature. But I guess he was thinking of visiting the tropical location in its cooler months. Since it was fall and we were on our way into winter, any location that didn't have snow appealed to me.

“Let’s go to Hawaii for two weeks in two months time.” I haggled.

“Deal.” He grinned.

Then he leaned in to playfully bite me on the nose, which I returned with a slap on the ass. He guffawed, as he rose out of bed and I remained under the covers, to let him use the bathroom first. Once I heard the toilet flush, I heaved myself to my feet and shuffled past as he was exiting.

Declan customarily dressed faster than I did, as he left the bedroom in his denim work clothes the same time as I came out of the bathroom. I put on jeans, black t-shirt, a blue zip-up sweater and sneakers, before I returned to the bathroom. There, I brushed away my bed-hair and tamed it into a ponytail. Once it was done, I paused to look on my reflection in dissatisfaction.

The bad thing about remaining youthful was that my appearance hardly changed. I’ve had the same hair style of long waves with a fringe, for eleven years. As I glared at the mirror over the vanity, I decided it was time for a change, to end this predictability.

I was still frowning when I came downstairs. Declan was standing in the kitchen entryway, with a coffee in one hand and a piece of toast in his other. He looked upwards as he ate and drank.

“Oh oh," he commented on my sour expression, “B’s not happy about something.”

I brushed past to pick up my waiting coffee, which he often made with his. I cupped the mug in the both of my hands for the warmth, as I gulped down the caffeinated, sweet, milky beverage. My eyes closed by themselves, as I savoured my first cup of the day.

Mmm… this part of our predictability wasn’t annoying but appreciated.

“What’s up?” He queried, whilst watching my face.

“Nothing,” I sighed.

"Yeah right," he scoffed.

“It’s just another Monday, where Declan goes to work at the Garage and I stay home, to work on my papers. Maybe I’ll call my PA at Hodge Endeavor to discuss my schedule of picking up or dropping a lecture? Maybe I’ll plan another time travel to research my next paper? Then the other academics will show their claws to shred my work. Later, sometimes years later, they’ll renounce their spite and admit that I was right. ‘Oh yes Dr. Bianca Riverclaw was correct in the priestesses in the Temple of Athena did burn incense during rituals’. While the bureaucracy of academia drones on, my hair will still be boring since it’s been the same style for a decade now.”

“Ah ha!" He put his empty mug in the sink. "Here we come to the crux of the matter, B wants a hair cut.”

“I might call Maia and see what she’s doing today." I thought aloud. "I’ll ask if she wants to come to the hairdressers with me and maybe grab some lunch at the bakery café.”

“If you leave tribal lands, let me know.” He issued his customary command. “Send me a text message before you leave the house.”

I looked on in amusement, “why do you always say that?”

“Say what?”

“Why do you always keep tabs on my whereabouts?" I wondered. "Every time I leave the house without you, it makes you uneasy.”

“Of course it makes me uneasy!” He rolled his eyes.

“But why?”

“When you think about all the problems we’ve had on our holidays, with other Werewolves trying to claim you, or Vampires trying to eat you; I hate not knowing where you are.” He said unhappily. “I’m not worried when you go into Alma, as it's close by. But I don't like it when you go overseas for your guest lectures.”

“Why, because you can’t come running to the rescue?” I asked sarcastically.

He said curtly, “because if anything did happen, I'd have to catch a flight or whatever, since I can't instantaneously phase. By the time I bound onto the scene with my teeth bared and claws ready, you could be dead or almost.”

Then he slammed down his coffee mug into the sink, before he headed for the front door.

“If you leave tribal lands, you text message me!” He barked on his way out. "If you're not gonna consider your husband's feelings, consider it an order from the Second in the pack!"

And he was gone, without giving his customary kiss on the cheek. I listened to his plasma-powered pick up truck, start. Next, I overheard him reverse out and zoom off down the hill, uncharacteristically faster than usual.

“So frickin’ bossy!” I muttered, as I left the kitchen.

*****

“Yeah, I’ll come to the hairdressers with you.” Maia said merrily over the phone. “I need a haircut and my Mom can take the kids for a couple of hours. I’d enjoy a girls' day out.”

“Great," I gushed, “I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

I ended the call and made the next to a salon in Alma, to book us in. Once our appointment was made, I hit the 'lock keypad' function and tucked the phone into my handbag. No matter if he was husband or second-in-charge, I refused to report my comings and goings to the domineering male. I mean, it's not like I'm running away with another man, or anything.

Fifty minutes later, I departed the house and headed for the garage, where my car awaited. It was metallic lime coloured and much smaller than Declan's vehicle. But as I told him at the time we bought it, it's just to take me into Alma or Fairbanks for errands or the odd shopping. I didn't mind instantaneously phasing to different locations, but I was wary of witnesses.

I parked out the front of Maia and Forrest's place in the community centre, and beeped the horn. Not only did Maia appear from the summons, but so did Therese. The proud grandmother was carrying her second grandchild, as the first came running over to the car which I was sitting inside. I hit the window control to lower the glass.

"Hallo Caesar, how are you?" I greeted the five year old boy, with the scruffy black hair.

"Aunt B, can you take me for a ride in the broom-broom car?" He asked, hopeful.

"Next time, Caesar." I promised. "This morning I'm taking your Mummy instead."

Maia came over to pick up her first born and plant a kiss on his rosy cheek.

"Go and help Grammy look after your little sister." She ordered. "If I hear you've been a good boy, I'll bring back a treat."

"Yes Mommy!" He beamed at her offer, before running back to the house.

Then she sat in the passenger's seat and did her seatbelt. However, I noticed that she took extra care to make sure the strap over her tummy wasn't tight. I also detected a peculiar smell, underneath the perfume she was wearing. She still smelled like Maia of course, but her scent was slightly off.

I started the engine whilst putting my window up, before pulling out onto the road.

"Mom can look after the kids until one," she advised, "then she and Dad are helping the Tribal Elders with something."

"Cool," I acknowledged.

We cruised out of the community centre and off tribal lands, on our way into Alma. The sight of the small wooden houses in our cozy village disappeared behind tall, thick pine trees. As we approached the larger town, bigger brick buildings appeared as well traffic lights.

"So, what have you and Uncle Dec been up to?" She asked congenially.

"Nothin' much." I shrugged as I drove. "We're talking about visiting Hawaii at the end of the year."

"That would be nice!" She said a little enviously. "I wish Forrest and I could afford something like that. But we're on a tight budget at the moment."

"Yeah, I guess so," I gave her a cheeky smile, "especially when you have two 'rug rats' and now a third on the way."

Maia's eyes widened, "you can smell it?"

"Yep."

"How do you guys do that?" She shook her head in amazement. "Werewolves, I mean."

"I don't know, we just do." I shrugged again. "Declan's better at it than I am. I think he said he can also hear the baby's heartbeat. My hearing and tracking skills aren't as good as his or the other men."

"Yeah but they can't phase or see through time, like you can Aunt." She gave a pat on the arm.

Once we found a parking spot in the busy CBD, we visited a cafe to buy take-away Lattes. Or in my case, I ordered a hazelnut mocha because I thought it tasted like liquid Nutella. Then we carried our drinks into the salon with us, to sip as we had our hair done.

The male hairdresser asked Maia, "and how would you like your hair?"

"I'll get three inches cut off and layered a little on the sides, please." She eyed her reflection analytically, in the mirror.

"To frame your face?" He caught onto her thinking, whilst lifting a couple of strands to illustrate.

"Perfect." She gave a nod.

"And you, ma'am?" The female hairdresser stood behind, but caught my eye in the mirror.

My stylist looked a little punk, with bright pink hair cut in a bob and a nose ring. All the staff in the salon were wearing black, however my stylist also wore black leather arm bands with metal studs. Then I looked down and caught black biker boots on her feet.

"Cool boots," I commented, "do you ride a motorcycle?"

"Nah, I drive a jeep." She smirked.

Then my gaze returned to the mirror, "um I don't know what I want. But I do know this; I need a change."

She started to smile with her bright purple lips, "change, huh? I can do that. How long have you had that length for?"

"Forever."

"Have you thought about cutting it short?"

My eyes narrowed warily, "how short?"

Then she used her hands to lift up my hair past my shoulders and her silver skull ring, brushed the skin on my neck. I tensed up, before taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out. Relax B, silver only hurts you if it breaks your skin. Lucky I wasn't another Werewolf, as the contact would have burned.

"Do you mean a bob?" I wondered. "Do you think I could carry it off? I mean, my shoulders are broad so I've always had long hair to retain some femininity."

"How about we have it longer at the front and shorter at the back?" She arranged my hair a second time. "It'll look wicked."

In spite of myself, I giggled at the mischievous glint in her light green eyes.

"And what about a colour, too?" I went along. "Not all one colour though, but streaks."

"What about purple streaks?" She let go of my long hair and it all came tumbling down. "It'll go with the natural black of the hair, and your dark blue eye colour."

"Cool," I gave a nod, "let's do it."

Maia who had overheard our conversation, stared in surprise. "You're cutting your hair short? Uncle Dec is gonna freak!"

"Bring it on." I sat up straighter in the chair, as if I were rising to the challenge.

"You go, girl." My stylist laughed. "Now come to the sink so I can wash your hair first."

Over the next two hours, I was shampooed, blow-dried, bleached, shampooed again, dyed, shampooed yet again and then when my hair was still wet, cut.

Maia's haircut took less than an hour, but she stayed in the chair beside mine to watch. The salon wasn't busy for a Monday morning, so the staff didn't mind her taking the seat. Her eyes widened as my long wisps of hair, fell to the floor.

Over the course of the haircut, we learned my stylist's name was Casey and she was from Edmonton, Canada. She ended up in Alaska because her boyfriend worked on the pipeline, however they broke up soon after she arrived. She'd worked in a salon in Valdez and now Alma, but she wanted to make her way up to Barrow.

"Three months of non-stop sun in summer and then two months of darkness in winter, totally wicked." She ended, the same time as my final blow dry.

When she stepped back, I stared in the mirror for a good minute or so. At first I was unsure of the shortness, until she brought over a second mirror so I could see the back. Then I started to smile, as I could see what she was aiming for.

The style of the cut was a bob, but the front was longer than the back. The front went just past my shoulders but at the back, it was much shorter and exposed my neck. Then I could see what she meant with the four purple streaks, it did suit my dark blue eyes.

"This looks fantastic, Casey." I smiled before it faded. "It just looks a little out of place with my wardrobe. I think I'm going to have to go clothes shopping."

"You did say it was time for a change," her mischievous grin returned.

"I did, didn't I?" I giggled again. "Man, you're a bad influence."

"So my 'ex' kept telling me," she joked.

Afterwards, I shouted Maia lunch at the Bakery Cafe. Then at twelve-thirty, I dropped her off at home. However, instead of going home myself, I drove back into Alma. There were some new clothing boutiques inside the arcade that I wanted to look at.

The stores sold sporting goods, or shoes, or lingerie, or jeans and other casual wear. I almost lost hope, until I saw the last shop at the end of the upper level. It was more up market than the others, which also made it much more expensive. However, the kinds of clothes I saw in the holographic posters, made up for it immediately.

This store didn't cater for casual wear, but I reasoned I could wear a couple of the pieces with jeans to dress them down. But the main appeal was the way the fashion meshed classic styles with futuristic flair. I fell in love with a knee-length black dress with white pin stripes, which had a triangular neckline to accentuate the cleavage. It looked 'The Jetsons' meet Bugsy Siegel.

I bought five dresses; three were business attire which I could wear for my lectures whereas the other two could be worn as smart casual for parties or dinners. I also bought two jackets and two tops. Then I went to the shoe store next door, and bought a chunky-soled, red, 'Mary Jane' pair. Lastly, I stopped in at the lingerie shop and bought a couple of black, lacey stockings. One pair was in a stripes design, the other was a floral weave of black roses.

Finally at three o'clock I drove home, with my new haircut and my new wardrobe. But I didn't stay home, I had something else planned. I had a surprise for my husband...

After I dumped the shopping on the bed, I took out the striped, black lacey stockings and then the knee-length black dress with the white pin stripes. I put them on with my new shoes and then went into the bathroom where my make-up was kept. I applied a dark purple lipstick, before returning to the bedroom. I opened my wardrobe to use the mirror on the inside of the door, to check my appearance.

A new me looked back, complete with a modern haircut and a smart dress. I looked completely different and I also felt a little alien, especially with the short hair. Now it was time to show it off.

I grabbed my keys and left the house. Once more, I climbed into my small, metallic lime coloured car and drove back down the hill. This time I headed towards the tribe's general store, which Declan's garage sat beside.

As I approached, I saw two other vehicles using the plasma power pumps, outside. The drivers were recharging their batteries, which was what I was going to pretend to do. But I changed my mind and pulled up in front of the garage's open roller door, instead.

This made Bruce and Gracie raise their heads from the hood of the RV they were repairing. At first they gave a funny look, as if they didn't recognize me. Then Gracie started to snicker and nudged Bruce, as if she couldn't wait to see her employer's reaction.

"Hey boss, there's someone here to see you!" Bruce called out.

"Oh yeah, who?"

"You better come out and see," Gracie returned.

I saw something large moving behind the second vehicle in the repair shop. Then I saw Declan walk out, glaring at the interruption. His denim jeans and hands were smeared in grease. He looked expectantly at his employees first then he recognized my car second.

Slowly, I opened the driver's door and made sure a lacey leg was shown off, before I completely climbed out.

Just as I stood up, Declan's jaw fell down. His mouth hung open as he stared in surprise. His bright blue eyes bulged, as they swung over my new look before fixating on my hair.

"So, what does a girl have to do to get a discount around here?" I jested.

Bruce and Gracie cracked up laughing whereas Declan looked dumbstruck.

I continued, "I hear brunettes with athletic legs, are given preferential treatment at your garage."

Gracie guffawed, "only the brunette standing in front of the boss, right now."

However, the European Werewolf didn't answer, he simply stood there.

"Go on, boss." Bruce whacked him on the arm. "Why don't you give the lady's engine the once over?"

Declan's face turned pink and he cleared his throat. "Alright, that's enough. Back to work you two, the Winter's want their RV back tonight."

Smilingly, the humans obeyed but kept an eye on what next occurred.

My tall mate wandered over to where I was standing beside my car. He didn't look happy for some reason. He stood close enough that he could look down into my face, but his eyes had a cold quality about them.

"Go home, B." He said quietly. "You've made your point."

Then he turned around and walked back over to the vehicle he'd been fixing.

What, that's it? My heart hurt as my eyes stung. I blinked hard as I had to quickly look away. I felt rejected and even a little embarrassed, especially when Gracie saw this.

"Have a good afternoon guys." I forced out with a wave, before I ducked back into the car.

Disappointed, I reversed out and drove off down the road towards home again.

What the hell just happened, back there? Does Declan hate my haircut THAT much? What was the point I supposedly made?

My eyes watered as I parked the car in the garage back home, before I climbed out and headed inside. Disheartened, I stomped up the veranda steps and then I unlocked the front door. Lastly, I went in and shut the door behind.

I went straight into the kitchen to look for a backup jar of Nutella. However, no sooner than I did, I heard a second vehicle pull up on the driveway. It was Declan's pick up, I'd recognize the motor anywhere.

Suddenly the front door burst open and my dirty but angry mate, opened his mouth to yell.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" He started with. "How would you like it if I changed my appearance and then rocked up to one of your lectures, to surprise you?!"

Now it was my mouth that fell open at how enraged he was.

"And - and - and your hair! Where's all your hair gone?! I loved your long hair and you cut it all off?! Why, to punish me?!" He roared.

Then he marched up with his eyes blazing and his face red, to shout some more.

"You frickin' dyed your hair after I told you I hate that smell!" He continued. "It's almost overpowered your scent! You don't smell like a vase of flowers sitting in a kitchen whilst a cake was baking in the oven; you stink like a frickin' chemical factory!"

Angrily, I started to walk past him to go upstairs when he caught my arm.

"Don't you walk off on me, I'm yelling here! You left tribal lands without telling me and you deliberately changed what I love about you! You went behind my back! Why don't I just shave off all my hair and see how you like it?!"

I was furious now, as I ripped my arm out of his grasp before I stormed towards the staircase.

"Don't you walk off on me!" He repeated, as he marched after. "Answer me B, answer the damn question! Did you cut off your hair to punish me?!"

From the bottom step, I whirled around to shout back; "no I frickin' well didn't! I wanted a change! I happen to like this haircut! Maia and Casey like it too!"

His eyes glowed green in jealousy, "Casey? Who the hell is Casey? Did you cut off your hair, for another MAN?!"

"Casey is a WOMAN!" I snapped. "She's a single girl who doesn't have to report in to a husband! She does whatever she wants, whenever she wants! Right now, that sounds VERY appealing!"

His eyes flashed their glowing green colour, as his chest swelled to bellow.

"Dream on, princess! Anytime you think about getting a haircut in future, I'm coming with you! If the hairdresser even thinks about cutting your hair from the shoulders up, I'm gonna eat them!"

"I'd like to see you try!" I retorted. "I can easily instantaneously phase out of the house without you and reappear on the other side of the world! Maybe next time I'll get a cute little pixie style cut, where it's only two inches long!"

"Right, that's it," he growled out.

Declan bent over to sling me over his shoulder again, but I phased from his grasp. When I tried to go up the stairs, he grabbed me from behind. I felt my feet leave the steps as he lifted me up, so I went into phase a second time. I almost freed myself, until I realized I had no footing and fell down.

Before I went tumbling down the staircase, the European Werewolf caught hold. This time I didn't object to his strong arms enclosing about my waist. That was until I realized he'd pushed me onto my back and was now lying on top. Like that, he thought he had me pinned on top of the stairs.

"Get off!" I flared.

But his reply was a sniffing noise, as his head moved down my dress towards the skirt.

"What are you doing?!" I tried to buck him off.

His hands released my arms but then they grabbed hold of the hem. He started tugging it upwards, which the slim style objected to. I was scared he'd rip it, as he forced the fabric upwards.

"Declan!" I pulled on his hair. "Stop it! If you ruin this dress -"

However, I soon saw it wasn't the dress he was targeting, as he heaved the narrow skirt up past my hips.

"Frickin' hell, that hem is tight," he complained before his eyes widened. "Thank the heavens above, you're still wearing blue panties on a Monday. Now I KNOW you're not a Body Snatcher."

Then before I could stop him, his head ducked and the sniffing noise returned as he inhaled my crotch.

"What the hell...?!" I tried to push him away. "Declan, have you gone crazy?!"

He raised his face upwards to say, "here's the woman I know and love."

His words made me pause, when he used the distraction to pull down my stockings. Once they were discarded, my legs were parted so he could press his nose against the blue cotton. He even opened my mouth to press his hot, wet tongue against the fabric. The moisture seeped through to my sensitive area on the other side and the sensuousness turned me on.

My objections were silenced, as I stopped trying to push him away.

He continued to lick the outside of my underwear, wetting both the fabric and the panty liner. Usually a drenched liner was an indication for a change, but the heat from his mouth felt intoxicating. So did the force of his tongue, as it repetitively lapped in a steady rhythm.

"Declan...!" My breath sucked in sharply, as the tingling turned into a wet, rush of warmth. I knew these sensations were about to turn into something much more pleasurable and after so long of marriage, so did he. "Oh Declan...!"

Then he slid his fingers underneath the fabric and I felt him tickle my clit as he licked. His fore and middle fingers brushed up and down, at the same pace as his tongue. Before I trembled with fury, now I shook with anticipation. The heat and wetness kept escalating, as my legs fell wider apart.

"Not yet," he pulled his head away.

"What...?" I looked down to see why he'd stopped.

Declan pushed my legs together again before his hands grabbed hold of the underwear. He removed them in a single pull and then tossed them over his shoulder. As he pushed apart my thighs once more, I watched his eyes glow green as his round pupils turn into narrow slits.

"Like a cake baking in an oven," he growled out.

Then his head dove down to 'maul' between my legs. At first he used his whole mouth to smother the small region, over and over. Then one of his hands held one of my legs ajar as his other, returned to my clit. Meanwhile, my back was pushed against the hard edges of the steps, but I wasn't about to complain. The discomfort was soon forgotten, or drowned under the wet heat of his mouth and tongue and the force they gouged with.

My head rolled backwards as my lips curled upwards into a silly smile. In all the years of domestic harmony or sometimes disharmony, I've never had a 'head job' on the staircase before. After today I'll have a better understanding of the expression, 'a change is as good as a holiday'. I really should have given Casey a bigger tip...

...

...afterwards, two contented Werewolves lay on the staircase, with the male's head resting on the female's abdomen.

Declan's voice broke the silence in the living room, "can you go and have a shower?"

"Say what?" I raised my head to give a peculiar look. "After what you just did, now you're going to complain about the smell?"

"I'm not talking about down there," he indicated with his head, "but I'm talking about your hair."

"Are you saying the dye smells worse?" I asked in amusement.

"Yup." He said matter-of-factly. "Down here is nice and warm and wet, just as it should be. But I can smell the bleach they used to lighten the hair before they dyed it purple. If I hate the smell of bathroom cleaner, what makes you think I'm gonna like it on your head instead?"

I groaned as my head fell back onto the uncomfortable step.

"Instead of using chemicals and a toilet brush next time, just stick your head inside the bowl."

"Shut up!" I pulled on his hair again. "It doesn't smell that strong."

"You wanna make a bet?" He brushed my hand off with his, before he looked up. "Haven't you noticed that none of the other women who were mated to Werewolves, dye or perm or use other kinds of chemicals, on their hair?"

"Oh," I turned pensive, "I never really thought about it."

"A la naturale, thank you very much!" He rested his cheek on my tummy once more. "Or I'll never make you tiramisu again."

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