Don't be too helpful

Last night proved to be more interesting than I had anticipated and it might have gone very badly indeed.

I had a snack then got changed and set about the pile of ironing. Half an hour into it, the door bell rang. I thought my wife must be back home and didn’t have her key with her. My problem was I was naked except for a pair of silky knickers and a T shirt and I thought she might not be best pleased at my presumption. I ran upstairs and pulled on a pair of jeans and the doorbell rang two or three times more. Trying to look calm I opened the front door but it wasn’t my wife on the porch, it was our next door neighbour, Claire. Thank God I didn’t chance it with my clothes, I thought.

After our greetings Claire told me that her car wouldn’t start again and she had to collect Nick from the station. Could I come and do something, she asked?

I said yes and went back inside to turn off the iron and put on some shoes. As I left the house I thought I had better tell my wife where I was so I sent a quick text and drove my car round to Claire’s. I figured I could jump-start the car. 

To be honest I was a bit peeved that Nick had not bought a new battery after the last time I had helped out. I did tell Claire but obviously nothing had been done. I had my head under the bonnet when I heard the sound of a car pull into my own drive. With the wires fixed it didn’t take long to get the other car started and I tidied everything away and accepted Claire’s profuse thanks. A few minutes later I was home.

My wife was standing in the hall with a bit of a sour face.

“So where were you?”, she asked.

“Next door,  Claire couldn’t start her car.”

“Ooh , next door with Claire were you, how cosy is that when I am out working?”

I knew where she was headed with this so I reminded her that the last time I helped with the car it was because she had suggested I do so.

“And anyway,” I pointed out, “I sent you a text saying what I was doing.”

Grumpily I walked past my wife and headed for the kitchen, intending to get on with the ironing. I had a feeling that the events of the last thirty minutes might  just have spoiled the whole weekend I was looking forward to.

“Come back here at once!” The tone of her voice stopped me in my tracks.

As I turned back to face her she was pointing at the floor.

“Get on your knees.”

A rush of submission at her instruction came over me and I did as I was told.

She took her phone out of her handbag and spent a moment looking at it.

“OK there is a text here so I accept your explanation. But you have no business helping other women without my permission and you certainly should not be talking to me like that.”

“Yes ma’am. Sorry ma’am.” I looked down at the floor.

“You had better finish the ironing. Go on and I’ll get changed into my pyjamas and you can pour me a drink.”

“Yes ma’am. “ I said, with some relief that the air was now clear.

Later on when we were in bed, we cuddled up and she whispered that she would sort me out for seeing other women, probably with a good thrashing this weekend. I stiffened immediately  and closed my eyes thinking about what might happen.

All’s well that end well.