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But now, her instantaneous attitude, her snapping voice was all the spark required. "Okay, you want to know," he began, his eyes were flashing. "There were termites, and the whole damned thing fell away when the carpenter started to work on the window ledge. He said it had to be cut away, fumigated, taken care of before the termites eat the whole bloomin' house! And," Tony emphasized as he roared on, "it's another $2000 bill to replace the fucking mess!"
Tony shook off his wet hands, and leaving the dishes half washed, he stormed out of the kitchen. Reaching his study he slammed the door behind him.
Melanie stood frozen beside the ugly remnants of the once beautiful window. Nothing was turning out the way she'd hoped it would. All her thoughts about her arrival home seemed to be dashed. It was clearly her fault for going off half cocked about the window, though it was obvious that Tony had not yet spent his anger. She was enough of a psychologist to know that his rage went far deeper than just this one thing. The problems that had caused her to leave, certainly hadn't changed or vanished. She only hoped that they weren't so bad that there would be no way to repair them. She remembered Tony's edict before she left. That she'd better be able to resolve things when she got home, or he would leave. This first misstep certainly wasn't a very promising sign of mending things between them.
But she wasn't about to give up easily. There had to be an answer and they were both going to face it NOW!
Putting down her luggage, she immediately went to Tony's study and walked in. That in itself was a bold move, since she always politely knocked.
"If you don't mind Melanie, I'd like to be by myself," her husband said looking up from some papers on his desk.
Melanie could tell that he was simply looking busy, there was no way he was already deep into his work.
"Well that's not what I want," Melanie replied, her sassy edge still showing. If he wanted a show down, now was the time. "You said you didn't want me running away from our problems, so don't you start."
Tony looked genuinely startled by the mild attack. "Listen Melanie, you came home, much to my surprise, I welcomed you thinking we could have a nice repairing evening, and immediately you hit the roof over this damned house. Don't go attacking me because I'm a little pissed at your attitude."
"So what do you want?" Melanie asked.
"A little apology to start might be in order."
"For what?"
"For being so damned crabby."
Melanie pouted at him for a minute, thinking about her options. "I really don't feel like apologizing. I'm sorry if I offended you, but it pisses me off, first, that you didn't consult me on the repairs and then you expect me not to be upset when I see my beautiful kitchen torn apart." Melanie looked as if she wanted to cry. The truth was, she didn't know what else to do. She was so at an edge, and filled with the tension of the homecoming, she didn't know more to say.
"Tell me then," Tony said. "What am I suppose to do with you?"
Melanie didn't say a word. She didn't move, she hardly breathed at all, she simply remained frozen in her tracks, totally unthinking. She had no idea what to tell him. And there Tony sat, not so angry looking anymore as nonplused. He had a vacant, distant look on his face. It wasn't like him, taking on such a stern detachment. She felt a little like a student in front of an accusing teacher. The feeling made her shiver strangely. "What do I want you to do?" she repeated his request.
"Yes, tell me?" he asked again, his expression remaining unchanged.
She paused, trying to form some reply, but before she could say anything, Tony answered for her.
"A spanking perhaps?" he said, almost before he could appreciate what he was saying. "A turn right over my knee with a paddle punishing your rear end," he added for good measure.
Melanie dropped her jaw. "You'd do that?" she asked breathlessly, her voice was so hushed.
"It's exactly what I feel like doing to you now. I can think of nothing I'd like better than taking you over my lap and turning your bottom scarlet."
Another shiver raced through her. This time, she knew exactly what it was all about—a wild, rollicking, crazy, wicked, blush producing, thigh dampening shiver. Tony's air of command left her dumbfounded and tongue tied. All she could do was stare at his flashing Latin eyes, the shock of unruly dark hair, and the way his face was so very determined. He became something very different in her eyes that moment.
"Come here," he ordered. His tone was no nonsense.
But Melanie couldn't move. All the petulant, tempestuous emotions that so filled her husband, left her mesmerized. How many times she'd dreamed of this instant since she'd been reading Aunt Daisy's journal, and now that it was really happening, she was too petrified to move. Was he really going to do it?
"Come here," Tony repeated, his voice deeper, even more stern than before.
"You really mean this?" she queried cautiously, trying to figure why now?
"Your Aunt Daisy's secret," he said, thinking it was all he needed to say.
"You know?"
"Come here, Melanie," he ordered again. "We'll talk later."
Melanie's heart was thumping so rapidly, her bottom mysteriously beginning to burn without even a hand laid on. She wouldn't remember how she made that fateful journey to Tony's side, but before she could catch her breath, she found Tony's strong hand pulling her down over his lap, her bottom exactly where she imagined it so many times.
