There's No Arguing With a Woman

Thursday, December 5, 2002.

Wessex, England - Ancestral Estate of Duke Robert Lancaster II

The warm, soothing water beat down on her silken skin, drips caressing every square inch of her body.  She leaned her head back, collecting her long, mahogany hair in her hands, the water now running down her neck, over her firm breasts, and down to her toes.  The stress of moving melted away with every drop of water, and vanished down the drain.

The Duchess of Wessex, Stephanie Erin Lancaster, having finished her shower, stepped out onto the grey marble floor of her bathroom and wrapped herself in a pure Egyptian cotton white towel, and began to dry herself off.

She walked out of the bathroom and into the master bedroom she shared with her husband, the Duke of Wessex.  Stephanie sat down in front of her armoire, and began to apply body lotion to her face, arms, and legs, and, lowering her towel, her chest as well.

Having finished that, she walked nude to the closet, and opened a drawer, pulling out a white satin thong, with matching white...nursing bra.  It wasn't sexy, but it was needed.  She slipped into her panties and began to put on her bra, when she felt warm breathing on her neck, followed by a long, nibbling kiss in the same place.

"Need help with that?"

The Duke secured her bra, and the Duchess turned around and responded.

"Why thank you my lord..."

She placed her arms around his neck as he massaged her hips, as they shared a long, impassioned French kiss.  They finished and stared eye-to-eye.

"Are you ready."

Stephanie nodded affirmatively.

"What time are we expected at Heathrow.  And have our things arrived yet in Memphis?"

"In about four hours time.  And yes they have, they're at Memphis International Airport...I've given the layout plans to the movers, and they assured me things would be in place by the time they arrive...in the style we decided...our dear Helius will piss his leiderhosen when he sees the "boring" stuff we have in place."

Lancaster beamed a precocious grin, as the Duchess giggled softly.  Yes, poor Helius Andrös would throw a Berlin Wall sized tantrum if he found out how the Lancaster's planned to decorate and arrange their Memphis condo. Very un-Ikea like.

"Well I'd best finish up here.  Make sure Simkins has the house organized, and that the other workers know their duties fully while we're away.  Make sure Edward is ready too, and I'll meet you downstairs."

They leaned forward and kissed again, as the Duke went to Edward's nearby room.  He lay in his crib fast asleep.  Robert picked him up softly and held him in his arms, kissing his forehead gently as to not awaken him.  He walked downstairs where he found Simkins, organizing the luggage.  Robert placed his free hand on Simkins' shoulder.

"Everything set Simkins?  Everyone knows their responsibilities while we're off living in..."

The Duke began a very lax Elvis impression.

"...Memphis, Tennessee?"

Simkins cracked a very rare smile.

"Yes your Grac...yes, Mr. Lancaster."

Lancaster rolled his eyes.

"Christ if you're going to call me 'Mr. Lancaster' I'd rather you just call me 'your Grace.'"

"Very good your Grace."

Robert laughed.  As it was when he was a child, Simkins again got the last word in, and won the day.

The Duke then asked Simkins to put the luggage in the trunk of the Rolls Royce that was to drive them to the airport as he went around and said good bye to the other workers who resided and helped out within the walls of the Wessex Estate.  In about thirty minutes time the Duchess arrived at the front door, ready to depart.  Robert handed Edward to her and held her hand.

"Thank you my sweet."

Lancaster knew the huge sacrifice he was asking Stephanie to make by moving to Memphis.  It was the same sort of sacrifice she had made since the day they first dated.

She knew that marrying into the upper aristocracy would mean responsibilities perhaps of an official nature - thankfully there were not too many of those.  She had no idea however that he would enter the realm of professional wrestling, nor did she expect to travel the globe in a capacity as manager and valet.

Stephanie left behind and gave up her art which she adored, something she had practiced and cherished since she was a little girl; she left her London home, and most of all, she left her parents, whom she missed terribly.

The Duchess smiled back at her husband and knew however, that it was all worth it.

Simkins completed putting the bags in the car, and escorted the Duke and Duchess out, as another worker locked the door behind them.  Securing Edward in the child seat, Simkins stepped into the driver's side and whisked the three to Heathrow.

The four of them disembarked and waited to be checked out by security, before being allowed to take off in the Lancaster's Lear Jet.

Captain Wilcox greeted the four as they reached cruising altitude, and as they headed out over the Atlantic Ocean towards Memphis.

The Duke sat quiet, staring at what the Duchess believed to be his new satellite phone.  He fidgeted in his seat, and finally decided to open a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label scotch.

The Duchess was not ignorant of the fact that despite their long conversation the night Robert suddenly returned home, something still plagued the Duke's mind, which ate at him vociferously.

After a shot or two, the Duke picked up the satellite phone.  The instant he did...

"Robert...don't."

He looked over at her.

"Why."

"Because I don't trust him.  You don't need him."

He smirked as he leaned back briefly in his seat, sipping his Blue Label.

"You still do not trust our glorious CAL World Heavyweight Champion?"

"You know I don't."

"Haven't you always told me that it's best to keep my options open and not burn any bridges before examining them."

The urgency of the conversation was apparent as they shot back comments and retorts at a furiously fast pace.

"But you do not deal with those who will get behind you only to stab you in the back."

There was no retort to that...Lancaster knew his wife's keen business sense was more than likely right on that issue.  Joining the NATPW would be a mistake that would cost him his career in the long run, something he was not prepared to give up.  And if the NATPW was victorious, Lancaster was financially secure enough that he could open his own promotion if he ever wanted to.

There's no arguing with a woman.

The hours slipped away, and the Duchess nodded off eventually, leaving Lancaster awake by himself only with Mr. John Walker.

The seductive look of the satellite phone finally won him over.

"Mr. Turner please."

There's no arguing with a woman; or...