Tiddas Read Online Free PDF Page A

injections, laboratories, procedures and fertility treatments. Xanthe was physically strong for her petite frame; she lived an almost athletic lifestyle, but she didn’t know if she could physically or emotionally cope with going through the process of IVF. The problem was she and Spencer were growing increasingly desperate as they both headed towards their fortieth birthdays and there was still no sign of fertilisation. As she waited for Spencer to arrive, Xanthe scanned her diary, not only for when she was next due to ovulate, but also looking at the enormous workload ahead of her in the coming months. Then the restaurant door opened and she saw the love of her life. He was wearing a dark blue suit and a pale blue shirt, minus the tie he’d left home in that morning.
    â€˜Hello, Princess,’ he said, planting a kiss on her full lips, holding it for five seconds. Xanthe felt dizzy with desire and grateful that she still got horny even though they were counting days and taking temperatures and having sex when essential in the hope of conceiving. There was still enough lust between them to ensure the lovemaking was about something more than just getting pregnant.
    â€˜You look as handsome as you did the day I met you in Musgrave Park,’ she said. ‘And I still prefer you in jeans and a t-shirt.’ She thought back to the day of the rally against the Northern Territory Intervention in June 2007 when she first saw Spencer holding a ‘STOP THE INTERVENTION’ banner while he bellowed loud and strong about human rights for all.
    â€˜I’ve got a few more greys now though,’ he smiled, running his hands through his mostly sandy-coloured hair. With his white skin and broad shoulders, Spencer was the complete opposite of his wife. He was outgoing, self-assured, with a confidence that always made Xanthe feel safe and secure.
    The waiter poured some champagne in two stemmed flutes and the couple raised their glasses in a toast to each other.
    â€˜To us,’ Spencer said.
    â€˜And they said it wouldn’t last.’ Xanthe smiled.
    â€˜I don’t know who they are, but someone upstairs has decided we’ll be together, and I’ve got my money on them!’ They both sipped, not taking their eyes off each other. ‘You look beautiful,’ Spencer whispered, taking his wife’s hand.
    â€˜I look tired,’ she responded, meaning it, feeling it.
    â€˜Babe, you haven’t stopped running since you left Spark HR.’ Spencer was still cranky that she had played asignificant role building a client base and developing a niche in Indigenous cultural awareness training, but never got credited for any of it. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you left them.’
    So was Xanthe; she hadn’t looked back. Within two years she’d set up her own consultancy and had secured her place as one of the most respected trainers in the country. Her package, directed at upper management and designed to simplify the complexities around history, the diversity of Aboriginal culture, and basic ways of incorporating Indigenous protocols and content in the workplace, was being used by a range of organisations and government bodies nationally. Xanthe was also hoping to move into the education sector to help teachers embed Indigenous Studies into their content, as the national curriculum was soon to kick in.
    â€˜Can you believe we’ve been married for five years?’ Xanthe asked.
    â€˜Can you remember how bloody hot and humid it was that day?’
    â€˜It was a couple of weeks off Christmas, we must have been crazy. You didn’t want to wait to marry me.’ Xanthe smiled coquettishly.
    â€˜I know.’
    Outside of the stress of her work, Xanthe retreated to her two-person bubble with Spencer. It had been love at first sight for both of them, and five months later, in the middle of a steamy December, they married in the Botanical Gardens. But it was