The Full Short Story of

Tempest

Tempest was reclining in her settee reading when she felt the slight movement in her tummy, it would be another seven months before the arrival of her precious son, and another seven months of her husband treating her like an invalid, his excuse for paying her no attention or affection. Tempest had arrived home earlier in the evening, from another successful dinner with new clients. Bryce was in high spirits and the evening was still young, as they were leaving the restaurant and waiting for their ride, he placed his arm around her waist, and whispered into her ear, "Oh, this simply wont do, you're going to have to diet my love"  Tempest turned towards their clients, father and daughter who were awaiting their ride, shaking both their hands and wishing them a good evening, did not want to cause a scene and proceeded to give her husband a drilling down of the female anatomy and the stages of pregnancy, once they entered their chauffeur driven Bentley. 

It was a good thing the chauffeur had his head phones in his ears, head bouncing up and down whilst singing to his song, it made it easier when having to quarrel with Bryce uninterrupted or feeling like it needed to wait until they were both behind closed doors. with a wave of his hand to their Clients, he replied "well, my dearest, I will be home late tonight, I have another meeting" and with that he tapped the driver, redirected him to where he needed to be dropped off, kissed her briefly on the cheeks and left . 

How can one person accept callous behaviour from a husband, who once declared her his equal in beauty and stature to suddenly sink into the debts of  lustful jealousy? she thought amidst reading her book. Every time he kissed her softly she would become sexually aroused and also obsessively jealous. The thought of her husband out entertaining clients on his own without her, stirred unwanted emotions within her. These rampant uncontrollable emotions, twisting within her like a piece of material caught in brambles where the thorn seems to hold on tighter, every time you're trying to dislodge it.

It was over a week since the evening out and Bryce had left a message on her cell, "Sorry my love, slept the night at our apartment, got an urgent call from Paul. One of our factories is having some problems we are flying out today, will call you when we return" 

Another week has passed, and yet another message, "baby am so full on, call you soon", every time Tempest called his cell, it was turned off.

Tempest roamed the corridors of her memories- bought up by a Mother whose only love was herself, and that of those who could serve her, to better her position, after ward disposing of them. Known for her beauty and charm by all those who entered into her dome – once there, like a spider caught in a web, she worked her possession over their weak minds, covered in the embrace of her seductiveness.

As a child loved and treasured by her father, who was always at the mercy of her mother, Tempest built up an inner turmoil of weights flowing and falling often between emotions of love and hatred for a Mother whose behaviour was that of someone who knew not of her existence or her father's for that matter. When Tempest at only eight years of age, had wondered into her mother's room and over to her dresser, picked up her mothers silver hairbrush,  she had turned it around and was about to brush her hair with it when she heard her mother cough,  from the dressers mirror she could see her mother's arms crossed and was wearing a revealing negligee sashaying toward Tempest.

Taking the brush from her hand, turning Tempests palm over tapping it hard with the silver back, Tempest winced pulling her hand back and placing both hands in her pinafore pocket down the front of her dress rubbing the sore hand against the material; her mother declared aloud, as If she was on a stage in bright lights  "Dear child, this world belongs to only one woman, and you cannot and will not share that spotlight with me, your father wanted a child, a child he has, I take no pleasure in meeting your every need, depart from my presence, I cannot afford a distraction"  with that she shoved Tempest out of her room. The only form of kindness in action her mother ever showed her, that she could recall, was the goblet of warm milk handed to Tempest, and then seeing the back of her mother, shortly after.