Coydog Chalcedony--Chaste Marriage

   
   "Coydog Chalcedony--Chaste Marriage"
   
   Celestine entered her double-wide with everything gleeful, yet--no pride.  Cody was not far behind her angelic strut, it humbly moving, like a Number 9 Queen on the Chess Board.  Her hubby, Hamish was drinking a cold beer, the heater low, and he was thriving in the somewhat frosty temperatures, frigid by many standards himself, yet highly potent, if triggered.  Celestine hadn't triggered him at this time, enjoying only hot showers and gentle touch, but no entrance, until their finances blossomed baby-ways.  
   Celestine loved Hamish and his perpetual wardrobe, which always seemed to consist of electric-blue shirts or jackets, him pulling them out of the rabbit's hat everyday, not needing a magician to afford the Walmart discounts, their clothing not usually implanted with micro-computers that record washing times, and so on, as many clothing brands are stamped secretly, as is most everything else.
   Hamish didn't greet her "hard day at work" with a warm embrace or find her lips, getting drunk on them like wine, only simply saying:  "Hey sugar.  Cool to see ya."
   Sure, she could've listened to her bogus girlfriends and gotten the quintessential ass-grabber, but no mystery resides in such obvious souls save their phony camouflage easily spotted by Moon Knight and other super-mundane detectives armed with high-levels of intuition.  It was cool.  She loved her boring hubby.  He basically, never said a word.  Just was always there, having a purely light synergy with her, and never drug her duties down.  
   Cody jumped in the lap of Hamish and licked his face.  Hamish actually managed a smile.  Celestine thought:  "That's my husband.  And he scares the hell out of me, which isn't necessarily a bad thing."