Almost two years they had been married now, her and the love of her life, two years of absolute bliss, for the most part. Like any couple they had their differences of opinion and argued but never anything really serious, except perhaps the debates regarding a recently arisen topic that occasionally spun almost out of control, the topic of having children. That in itself was not what the debate was about but it was Freya's family's values, or rather her step-father's obsolete family values and opinions. He had told Freya, when she talked to him about it almost a year ago, in no uncertain terms that he would never accept an unnaturally conceived child and if Freya still decided to let herself, or her ... wife ... (how reluctantly he took the word in his mouth when referring to Jourdan) be impregnated in any other way than the way god and nature had intended he would forbid his wife and daughter to have any further contact with her.<br/><br/>It was moments like that Freya questioned her mother's decision to stay in the marriage or how she had even ended up being married to such a complete and utter asshole. It was not only the fact that his step-daughter had rejected men as partners all her life but that she had married a woman, a woman of colour no less and almost as if to consciously spite him even further, a woman of colour from the wrong side of the tracks. He had refused to attend the wedding but allowed her mother and sister to do so on the condition that they never once spoke about it afterwards. He was indeed a complete asshole and had he, and only he, vanished from her life it would have been no love lost from Freya.<br/><br/>All of this was of course not something Freya normally dwelled on but every time she met her mother and sister for lunch once every other Tuesday she always came back home in a bad mood, filled up to here with hate for her step-father, and sought solace in the arms of her wife.<br/><br/>That morning she had had the Gallery Drake & Bull pick up the paintings for her first major solo exhibition, a suite of 10'x7' paintings of two or more females in various states of undress engaged in intimate affections of one sort or another. After that she had picked up Jourdan at Logan International Airport as she returned from a photo shoot in  Casablanca. They had only been separated for 75 hours but it felt like forever and they were hungry for each other in the same way they had been when their relationship was still new. They had kissed for a good five minutes right there outside the gate and then hurried home to have each other, naked wet and passionately.<br/><br/>Despite having been married for two years and a couple for almost four year before that the two had still not reached the stage of routine sex in bed every Friday or Saturday night at bedtime but still fucked like horny bunnies at all hours of the day and wherever the mood struck them. There were few places in the loft where they had not made passionate love sometimes for hours at the time. This had been one of those times when time just slipped away from them as they enjoyed each other's bodies and as they had lay there after a handful of orgasms each talking, about the ever present topic of starting a family they realised that they had skipped lunch when both their stomach's grumbled almost simultaneously.<br/><br/>They showered and got dressed before heading down to their usual haunt, the same one where they had first met, hand in hand and looking very much like a couple newly in love with each other.<br/>"I think it might be," Freya said as she looked in the direction Jourdan pointed her attention.<br/>Freya had not seen him as they entered but now that Jourdan had pointed him out it was of course him, and he was sitting at the same table where Jourdan had first served him and her a pint each and a plate of french fries nearly ten years ago when she was still a fresh(wo)man at Harvard.<br/>"Do you want to go somewhere else instead?" she asked her wife knowing how her relationship with Morgen had ended.<br/>Perhaps it would be too painful for both of them to accidentally bump into each other even though it had been quite a few years ago. Perhaps he was sitting at that very table in the hope of just such a coincidence.<br/><br/><a class="username" data-user-id="42287" data-username="@Rex." data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://bluemoonroleplaying.com/community/members/42287/">@Rex.</a>