Pumpkin

Peter Wilson pulled his car into the garage. He turned off the engine and laid his head on the steering wheel. He listened to the click-click sound the motor made as it cooled off. His wife, Georgia, didn't come to the door to greet him. He wasn't surprised, she never did. He briefly considered starting the car up and just driving away, he did not want to go into the house. Knowing he couldn't run from his problems, he got out of his car and walked into insanity.

Georgia had been busy, a new paint color greeted him. His once clean white kitchen was now a bright pumpkin orange. It hurt his tired eyes. Since they had gotten married she had painted every room in his house some terrible color. He didn't mind her painting, he wanted her to make his house her own, but did she have to pick such loud colors?

The house smelled of new paint with something underneath that he couldn't just shrug off. Sex. His house smelled like a whore house. Georgia had been very busy. Peter could hear her singing to herself from the bathroom. He heard water splash and knew that she was taking a bath and he knew why. The bedroom was a mess. The bed had been neatly made before he left for work, now it looked like a tornado had hit it. It reeked of semen and sweat. Who had it been this time?

Georgia liked sex. Peter had known that when they got married. To her it was like a friendly handshake, a 'How do you do?' that entailed taking off your clothes. He had foolishly thought that once they were married she would limit the introductions to just him. He was wrong. He sometimes wondered if he had ever been right.

"Honey?" Georgia sang from the bathroom, "Is that you? I'm sorry about the bed, I'll fix it up as soon as I'm done. Dean, you remember Dean don't you? He's that nice man from down the block who walks that pretty dog? Anyway, he came over for a chat and we . . . well, we just got a little carried away."

Peter opened the bathroom door. Georgia sat in the bathtub, her blond hair piled high on top of her head. She floated in a sea of bubbles. Peter had put the tub in just for her. It was one of those old fashioned claw-footed tubs that held copious amounts of water. She did love her bubble baths.

Georgia, her head on a bath pillow, opened her eyes and smiled at her husband. Peter thought she looked like a child, her face was so open and innocent. Her big blue eyes sparkled with joy at seeing him, as if he had been gone far longer than eight hours.

"Baby, is something wrong? You look upset, did something awful happen at work today?" Georgia stood up, bubbles crawling their way down her body. She stepped out of the tub not bothering to reach for a towel. She walked up to Peter and wrapped her wet arms around his chest.

Peter closed his eyes as she held him close. She smelled so damn good, baby powder and woman, it was intoxicating. He bent his head and kissed her on top of her head. His arms reached around her wet body to hold her to him. God, how he loved her.

"Georgia honey, we've talked about letting men into the house, haven't we?" Peter asked her in a sad quiet voice. "You promised me you wouldn't let anyone in the house unless I was here."

"I know Peter, I guess I just forgot." Georgia replied, her voice high and wavering. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

"No, I'm not mad at you." Peter gave her a quick squeeze and playfully smacked her bare bottom. "Get dressed, we have things to do."

***

An hour later Peter was in his newly painted orange kitchen fixing dinner. Georgia was a terrible cook and he was hungry. If he wanted something decent to eat he had to fix it himself. Georgia was setting the table.

As they sat down to eat Peter told Georgia, "After dinner I want you to come look at what I am making in the basement. I think you will love it."

"Oh! Is it a surprise for me?" Georgia breathed out, her excitement at the idea of a gift evident. "You never let me in the basement Peter, you said it was your special place!"

"It is my special place, but now it is going to be yours as well." Peter smiled at her indulgently, like a father with his child. "Now eat your vegetables like a good girl."

After dinner Peter with Georgia in tow went to the basement. She fairly skipped as she followed her husband down the dark stairs. When he flipped on the lights it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the gloom.

In the center of the basement sat a newly built room. It looked like a giant doll house, painted a bright pumpkin orange almost identical to the color she had just finished painting the kitchen upstairs.

"Wow! Peter, this is beautiful!" Georgia exclaimed, "Can I take a peek inside?"

"Go for it honey, after all, I made it just for you." Peter said fondly.

Georgia squealed as she hurried inside the little house. Peter could hear her excited voice as she went from room to room. Peter was relieved that she liked it. It was a much smaller version of the upstairs with just a few modifications. It had a small front room, with a television. There was only one bedroom and of course the bath, complete with a claw-foot bathtub. They were smaller in size, but it was for only one person after all.

Peter walked over to the only door in the little house and shut it. He hooked the padlocks in place and snapped them shut. He walked around the miniature house making sure that everything was safe and secure. It had only one small widow, big enough to fit a plate through, not big enough for someone to get in . . . or out.

Peter walked up the stairs, turning the light off as he went. He wondered how long it would take his beautiful wife to realize that there would be no leaving her new home. Just before he shut the basement door he heard his wife calling his name.

** #1308465 Not An Image **

Peter, Peter, Pumpkin eater,
Had a wife and couldn't keep her.
Put her in a pumpkin shell,
There he kept her, very well.