Mr. C and the Ho, Ho, HOE.
This story is a little different. Nothing graphic (well, not too much), but it shows what can happen even to the Man, especially at Xmas.
Mrs. C pulled into the circular drive in front of her enormous, 12,000 sq. foot home, sending snow flying. She opened the driver's door on the metallic snow white Mercedes Benz convertible, got out, slammed it closed, and strode to the front door anticipating it would open automatically for her.
She almost walked into it as it did not open. She stood there fuming, pushing on the huge door, and finally reached out and lifted the massive bronze door knocker. She let it fall, and a resounding 'boom' rewarded her. She tapped her 4" inch stiletto heel waiting for someone, and finally, a four-foot-tall fancy dress butler opened the 10-foot door.
"May I help you, Madame??," he intoned.
She barged past him and shouted, "WHERE THE FUCK IS HE??."
The major-domo gently closed the door. He turned and said, "The master is in the family room."
She turned on her heel and strode to the family room. She stopped, turned, and said, "WELL, AREN'T YOU GOING TO TAKE MY COAT???"
She stood there, and the extravagant red fleece-lined, floor-length, fur-trimmed, velvet cape-like coat disappeared.
She hesitated as she noticed that the voluminous wrap was gone. She looked down at her figure-hugging red satin sheath dress. She went from a stunning mature woman to a cheap street hooker.
"You won't need that any more, madam," intoned Jeeves.
She froze for a brief instant.
'OH, Shit,' she thought. She hurried on without the swagger and fury she had just had.
She walked into the enormous vaulted room and found a roaring fire, apparently fueled by photos of her and her husband in what would appear to be happier times.
He was sitting in his favorite comfortable armchair/throne with a glass of what she surmised was his favorite scotch. He was wearing his business attire, his heavy black boots up on a footstool, but the heavy-duty insulated coat lay draped over the back of the couch.
"You know, Vivianne, I was thinking that perhaps I was concentrating too much on business and not enough on our marriage. While tooling along on my way to Norway, I felt like something wrong was happening.
"I figured 'Why wait 'till the business trip ended to take our traditional three-month vacation to Fiji. I would swing back, get you, and take you with me.
"Ply you with spiked eggnog.
"After the business concluded, take advantage of you at forty thousand feet.
"Remember how you used to like that??"
