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"You were going to get it all done at once?" she questioned him.
"That's right."
"But it's my job," Melanie protested.
"It was your job. I've taken over the project." He seemed thoroughly pleased with himself.
"You can't mean that?" Melanie protested, she was nearly in tears.
"You've had ten months to take care of things. That's plenty of time, and now your time is up."
"Well, I'll just take it back, now that I'm home."
"No, you won't," he said without a trace of anger, though he was completely firm in his statement. "You'll just have to find something else to keep you busy, because I'm managing this. I have things well under control and I expect that the entire job will be done in less than six weeks."
"Six weeks! That's impossible."
Tony said nothing, just stared at his wife pleasantly, then went back to his writing.
Melanie tried to say something, in fact she started to twice, but there were just no words to express how completely lost she felt, on this, which should have been the best day of her new life with Tony.
Chapter Eight
"At least I can walk around in here now," Melanie told her husband, as she strolled around the newly refurbished gazebo. The planks still smelled like fresh cut pine trees, they were so new and clean; their pale tan surface was such a contrast to the old squeaky boards that were now thrown in a heap at the far end of the yard. She missed the quaint antique feel of the older gazebo, this was practically a different species altogether. Nice, but not the same ambiance that would transport her into another world.
"It's sturdy, and once the painting is done it will look almost like the old one," Tony pointed out.
"I guess."
"Hey, why the gloomy face?" he asked. He pulled his wife to him, surrounding her in his arms.
"I don't know, this is all going so fast, I can't keep up. My mind is reeling."
"I took over this project just so your mind wouldn't have to reel. You have better things to do than let yourself run around in circles over this house. I think the way things have turned out is a stroke of genius." He reached down and patted Melanie on the bottom.
She smiled softly, though she wasn't sure if she agreed with Tony's evaluation of the most recent turn of events in their marriage. The spanking, well . . . . it was quite a rush. Finally having relinquished herself to it, it provided an extraordinary erotic turn on, as well as satisfying a need in her to have her sometimes sullen behavior checked. At least that's what she presumed. The few times over Tony's lap, had all been met with the same wonderful, but curious mixture of feelings.
"I guess I'm still a little resentful of your control," she admitted.
"You'd better not be," Tony warned. "I've heard enough of your complaints. You're making some choices in the house, color, wallpaper, all those things, but I'm taking care of everything else, and you'd better accept that!"
She started to pout, even as she remained securely in his arms.
"Don't start," he warned, his pointed index finger tapped her lightly on the nose. He'd never figured that he'd have such opposition to his plans to take over the renovations. It seemed that Melanie just couldn't let go of the house and the strong meaning it had for her; as if she really wanted to build it again all by herself, brick by brick, board by board, nail by nail. It had been three days since their last fight, the spanking that followed and the stunning announcement of Tony's plans. She was still pouting. "I want you to cheer up," he said sternly. "Stop whining about this, and go on to something else. You hear me?"
Melanie liked hearing him talk to her that way, adamant and forceful. It gave her a brief shiver every time he lowered his voice in that warning tone. There was tension already building in her again, and though she tried to fight it, she couldn't seem to help herself.
"I need to feel useful here, Tony, and since I don't, I was thinking perhaps I'd take a real trip. Spend a week or two doing some shopping for the house, and let this work get done." She looked at him hopefully, thinking the offer sounded reasonable.
"You will not go anywhere!" he immediately replied. "You take off, I'm going with you."
"Then go with me," she suggested. "We could have a little vacation, we certainly need it."
"You know that's impossible," he replied.
"Well then, let me go, I'll be out of your hair."
"I don't want you out of my hair, I want you here."
