Playing HouseMature

This is a sort of character development experiment I'm doing to get to know one of my characters in a T.V. script I'm writing.

There was something extremely satisfying in arranging a room Alex decided. Starting fresh, choosing which items to take forward, and which items to leave behind. It had a cleansing, calming effect. Alex traced the covers of the two hundred books lining the shelves; the most recent of possessions to be arranged lovingly in the room. Millions of words, stories of adventure, discovery, romance... they filled these pages, each line willing the story forward, leading the reader towards the final notes. Alex sighed and let her hand drop. The words might be beautiful, but most of them did not reflect real life. They fulfilled hopes and dreams, without accounting for the inevitable truth that life was not a fairytale. There were not always happy endings. 

Almost without thinking Alex touched the dull ache at her stomach. Her throat still felt rough from when she had vomited up the pain. Thinking about it made her gag and she quickly hurried to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, banishing thoughts of the pain to the back of her mind. She had to finish unpacking before tomorrow, when she had to meet with the staff of her new job to discuss her role as a lecturer. She was sure things were going to be different here. 


The table was set, everything around the house now un-boxed and arranged. Alex was stirring sauce in a pan when the door opened.

"Smells good."

David placed his briefcase down by the door, hung up his coat and strode across the room to give his wife a peck on the cheek. 

"Your favourite."

"And you've finished unpacking." He stared around the room. "I don't like the table there."

"Where should I move it?" She asked, laying down the spoon she was using. 

"Never mind. Don't let the dinner spoil. I'll move it." He rolled up his sleeves, studied the room for a moment, and then pushed the table over to the window. He returned for the chairs, placed them, and then pursed his lips, tapping them with his finger. "Better." He finally decided, and sat down. 

Alex began to plate up the pasta, pouring the sauce on top gently. She put the empty pan in the dishwasher and then brought the plates to the table. 

"There you go." She smiled, placing her husband's dish in front of him. 

"Where's the wine?" He asked, barely looking at her. She hurried to the wine rack and picked out her husband's favourite vintage, a Merlot, before hurrying back to the table and presenting it to him. "Mmm, good. To there." He indicated how much he would like. She  uncorked the bottle and poured, stopping just where he had said. Then she placed the bottle nearby  and went to her place. "You not drinking?" He muttered, digging in to his food. 

"Just water." She smiled, tapping the glass in front of her gently. 


Alex finished cleaning her teeth and spat in the bowl, washing it away and wiping her mouth dry. She glanced at herself in the mirror and stopped. Shoulder length honey - blonde hair curled around her in natural ringlets, slightly messed now that she had gotten ready for bed. She pulled nervously at the silk night dress her husband had bought her for her birthday, the dull silver of it bringing out the flecks of grey and blue in her otherwise pale green eyes. She tried to control her wayward hair, then smiled and headed in to the bedroom. Her husband was already in bed, his dark hair still smoothly shaped, shirtless. She could see the line of his pyjama bottoms just above the level of the quilt, where they reached the solid stomach. His hands lay either side of him, and she could see the flex of his muscles as he shifted in to a more upright position, and gestured for her to join him. 

Once he had finished, sweat forming across his solid chest, he rolled away from her, letting her pull down the night dress to where it rested on her thigh. Then he threw his arm around her and pulled  her to him, facing away. She winced as her stomach objected, and then felt him kiss her neck before he began to drift to sleep. She lay there, staring at the clock on the night stand. As the seconds ticked by she thought of her new job. The curriculum was different; she'd managed to read most of the books and prepared for seminars and lectures; luckily her new colleagues would apparently be giving her everything they used as well. It would be nice to have new people around. New minds, eager to learn. It gave her strength. 

The End

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