Warning: sexual situations

1980s;

A petite, slender blonde stands in front of her mirror, twisting a curl around her finger and releasing it. She smiles, knowing it's perfect. Everything is perfect. The lights are low and romantic but bright enough to see the details of the home she shared with her husband. Their home was meticulously curated, painstakingly modeled and remodeled to their specifications. They had high standards and they liked it that way. They wanted the best of everything and they gave that to each other for years.

They came from modest beginnings, especially as a young couple, coming to Los Angeles to be musicians. The wife had struggled, working two jobs to support her musical genius partner. Their album created together was a flop, only gaining success in a small pocket of the Southern United States. More struggle followed and it almost tore them apart but they persisted, married, and by some stroke of luck, were both picked up by a famous rock and roll band in the mid 1970s. Now, almost a decade later, they were at the top of their game, professionally. Each had their own successful solo careers and coupled with their continued work with the band, they became very wealthy and it showed. Their home was stately, to say the very least, and it was their pride and joy. Much too busy on the road or entertaining guests at their many parties, they had no time for children.

Success, however, didn't make them any happier. In fact, it made them even more miserable. As the years wore on, separation was inevitable. They moved into separate bedrooms with their own separate spaces to enjoy separate hobbies and past times. Their disagreements and small marital spats evolved into blazing rows, resulting in injury to anything either could get their hands on. The only thing not injured by the couple teetering on the edge of divorce, was their sex life.

Despite their marital woes, in the public eye, they were a power couple. Magazines requested insight into their seemingly happy marriage, asking for tips on how to keep a relationship fresh and exciting. They happily obliged but never took their own advice, taking separate cars back to the house they shared after every interview and event. Backstage they fought like crazy and made love afterward with the same madness. This was their way.

"The guests will be here shortly" the blonde's husband said, no warmth in his voice.

"I'm aware" she replied. "Do I look alright?" She turned around to face him and he nodded his approval.

"Remember to smile tonight. We can't have any more pictures of you looking like a sulky child."

"I will remember."

"Put your arm around me, look interested when I speak. We have a lot of people in the industry coming tonight and I don't want you making me look like a fool."

She nods. "The caterers are already here." she tells him.

"Good."

"Let's practice the kiss" she says.

"We have to make it look real this time. If I see another 'Paradise Lost' or 'Trouble In Shangri-la" headline, it could be the end of this little charade"

The couple stands in the mirror. She smoothes the shoulders of his suit, adjusting his tie and he examines her makeup and straightens her dress. He looks her over, making sure she is truly up to his standards. She leans forward, as does he and they press their lips together awkwardly.

"Maybe we should just do the 'happy cheek kiss'. Remember the one everyone raved about after our last shoot?"

"I do. On the count of three, I'll kiss your cheek and you give a flirty smile" he says and she nods. He counts down and he kisses her cheek. She flutters her eyelashes, smiling girlishly. "Great job"

"Was it okay?"

"Looked really natural this time."

They let their arms drop from around each other, satisfied with their acting. The doorbell rang and he motioned for her to go downstairs and greet their guests. She obeyed, a sinking feeling in her stomach as she descended one of their grand twin staircases. She checked her appearance once again in the foyer mirror, forced a smile and opened the front door.

"Thank you so much for coming and welcome to our humble abode." she says, her cheeks aching. "I'm Stevie Nicks-Buckingham. My husband, Lindsey, will be joining us shortly." She takes their jackets, hanging them up in the large hall closet. Once the first of their guests were out of sight, she rubbed her jaw, letting her face relax. A young man in the caterer's wait staff brought her a drink on a silver tray and she knocked it back. Her husband came down the opposite staircase and met her in the middle.

"Don't you dare get drunk again, you little bitch or you will hear about it later." he whispers fiercely through his gleaming smile.

"Yes, dear" she says.

"Now act like I said something funny"

She laughs convincingly, touching Lindsey's shirt affectionately with manicured fingernails. "Oh, Linds, you are a riot!"

"I do try" he says, taking a drink from a passing tray. He cinches her waist to his, copping an unwanted feel of her backside and she sighs, continuing to smile. People ooh-ed and ahh-ed over them, marveling at the perfection of their union. Finally, she was let go and she wandered the large open rooms, mingling. Lindsey followed close behind to supervise as he felt she wasn't quite good enough on her own. Though neither were fully educated, he felt he was the brains, the talent and she was much better as visual entertainment.

Hours passed, the party was winding down and Lindsey felt mostly successful. Stevie only managed to embarrass him once or twice and he took that as a solid win. She couldn't quite hold her liquor anymore, or maybe she was sneaking more drinks than he was able to account for. Whatever the case, he didn't like it. Stevie waves as the last guests pile into their car and she shuts the door, drunkenly giggling at something one of the women had said.

"How was it for you?" she asked, finding herself very funny.

"What did I tell you?" He grabbed her arm and pulled her into him. She looked up at him with fear in her eyes, suddenly sobered by the rough interaction. "Didn't I tell you not to get drunk, not to embarrass me?"

"I-I'm sorry" she says, blinking back unshed tears.

"Get upstairs and wash your face. Get ready for bed." he told her, shoving her toward the staircase that had become designated for her.

"I'm not a child" she says in a sudden act of defiance. "You can't tell me what to do and expect me to do it. I am your wife, you will respect me"

"I will not. I am your husband and you will do as I say."

"I hate you" she says.

"I hate you too" Their chests heaved in anger and they eyed each other. They stood there in silence, both standing their ground, expressing mutual hatred. She saw his jaw clench, his fist balled up by his side. He saw the fire in her eyes, just as untamed as they looked in youth. Her nipples were pressed hard against the silken fabric of her dress as her chest rose and fell. The dress was so thin, he could make out her body perfectly beneath. Slut he thought. The passion overwhelmed them and they slammed their bodies together, lips crashing violently. She stumbled back, falling against the door and he tore at her dress. He nipped and licked the skin of her neck and chest, bringing his face to hers. Their kisses deepened, tongues fighting for dominance and neither would let up at all. He forced her legs up to his waist and she wrapped herself around him, hanging on for dear life even though she knew he would never drop her. Her dress finally tore to his liking and he smiled against her lips, causing her to bite him. "Bitch" he whispered, continuing to kiss and caress her body beneath her dress. He held her up against his building erection and she felt him, eager and hungry.

"Do you love me?" she asked.

"Always. Do you love me?"

"Forever" They continued to make out, hurting each other intentionally in little ways, expressing all the pent up anger and sexual frustration they'd felt the entire evening. He carefully carried her up his staircase, pressing her against the wall to kiss her occasionally as he made his way to his bedroom.

"Jesus..." he breathes, unable to handle the amount of clothes they both had on. He opened the door and pushed her down on the bed, loosening his tie, taking off his jacket and desperately trying to take his shirt off. "Fucking cuff links" he curses, ripping them off and tossing them on the night stand.

"I had those made for you for our second anniversary" she says, allowing him to undress. She panted, watching as he revealed himself to her slowly.

"Well, I hate them" he says.

"They're beautiful." she argues but he doesn't respond. He rips her dress further and she looks hurt as the fabric falls completely away from her body. He kisses her hard, descending upon her, touching her to make sure she's wet. He pulls his fingers back up and they glisten. He smiles, stroking her once more. She lays her head back, moaning as he surveys her body. He parts her thighs and thrusts into her with such force, she forgets to breathe. The feeling of him on top of her is delicious, making wild enthusiastic noises. Making love to her was one of his purest joys, doing his best to really make it last. His stamina was her favorite thing about him, allowing him to remain inside of her as long as he liked. More than an hour had passed, their first session of the night and the pleasure became unbearable for both, finally climaxing together. As soon as they had finished and he lay next to her, he was ready for a second and third.

Making love almost all night long tired them both out, falling asleep in each other's embrace. Morning sunshine flowed through the window, waking Lindsey up first. He wasn't willing to wake up just yet, still tired. He shuffled around, waking Stevie. Her eyes widened and she shoved him awake.

"Morning" he said, his tone rough and unfriendly.

"Morning." she said in an equally pleasant tone.

"Are you making breakfast?"

"Make it yourself, Lindsey" she said.

"I still hate you."

"Well, I still hate you too" she says, grabbing the bed sheet that covered them both to wrap around her naked body. He stared at her, unamused with her antics. She strode out of the room and walked down the hall to her own chambers, pleased with herself that she got a rise out of him. She went right to her bathroom to shower, dropping the bed sheet and smiling at herself in the mirror. Victory.