Chapter 1

Victoria Anita Cavendish had led a very secure and sheltered life, her husband had kept her on a pedestal and her typically upper-middle-class background had unconsciously allowed her to be controlled by him throughout their married life. This was never a strict control, but merely what was perceived as the natural order of Husband leading doting wife; a Victorian concept which she had accepted without truly realising it. Sex was something which had procured her two children, now grown up and both living abroad; it was rarely something which was enjoyed for its erotic pleasure, she had dutifully laid down for her husband of course, but apart from those fleeting first years of marriage, this was a rare routine and she rarely reached orgasm, except on those occasions when she let her mind wander to a dark alter ego which she was quick to dismiss when her portly husband had finished grunting. It was always her dutiful routine; a nudge in the back and then a little dabble at her vagina with blunt fingers was what passed for foreplay; the probing for five minutes and the grunting, followed by a kiss goodnight. She loved him, but knew nothing of lust and excitement.

Now at 52 he was gone, leaving her with a large detached house and huge insurance pay-out. As soon as she stepped back over the threshold on returning from the funeral with a few close friends and relatives, she felt a change come over her; she didn't know what it was, but as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her prim and still shapely form dressed in black, she felt how it was somehow suited to her. A couple of Her close friends who lived in nearby houses, one divorced, and another whose husband attended the family home about as regularly as Halley's comet, were quick to comfort Her and spoke of 'the bridge club' and other activities she could now attend more often. It was then that she caught the smile of the woman who had arranged the flowers; someone known to a friend of a friend, so Victoria had invited her through common courtesy, she had noticed her look of disdain at perpetuating her mundane life. She cut in as she adjusted a bouquet at the table.

"I think a nice holiday in the sun is what you'd need." And she turned and walked to the far end of the table where another bouquet required her attention, and out of ear-shot. The two friends sneered at each-other as Victoria pondered what she'd said; a little warm sun appeared in the back of her mind. She turned to her friends.

"Who is that lady? I know she has a floral business but that's all." The divorced one, Angela, looked down her nose as she peeked over the shoulder at the flower woman, who was also middle-aged, shapely, and had a certain presence about her.

"That is Wanda Summers, she is a very 'independent' lady, acquired house, business, and fortune from various husbands ... some say her floral business is just a cover for something else; she doesn't have to work after all; it can't be that much of a hobby." The 'Business Widow', Martha, concurred.

"Yes, she lives on her own and is often seen fleetingly with male companions, though she never seems to be with the same one for long; not publicly anyhow, I suppose she may have a special one at home, but no-one's ever been introduced." Victoria looked enviously at the 'Independent' woman; she saw how men smartly stepped aside as she went about her arrangements, not out of routine masculine courtesy as they would with a female like her, they somehow seemed in awe of Wanda Summers. Victoria's pussy tingled with a strange awe also.

As soon as Martha and Angela scuttled off to bore another bridge companion, Victoria took her chance to talk with the woman. She was in a convenient corner, out of earshot of most of the guests.

"Err ... hello, Wanda? I'd like to thank you for the beautiful displays; it has made the day so much easier." The brown eyed woman smiled warmly.

"It's really my pleasure, I so love flowers; you must come and see my garden sometime. I suspect you have been feeling it, now you are on your own." Victoria responded almost automatically to the suggestion, surprising herself with her answer.

"Actually, I've been feeling rather optimistic, almost elated, and seeing your independent way has inspired me as much as your flowers." Wanda smiled knowingly and clasped her hand.