Indian House Wife

This time it was the doorbell. Damn it. Who the hell was it now? He didn’t want to be disturbed, so he stayed in his chair. Hopefully, whoever would leave. Ring, Ring. They were still there, shit. Getting up yet again, he walked to the door. Sweat still poured from his body. Turning the locks, he jerked open the door. ‘What …’ stopping abruptly in mid-sentence. There was no one. Opening the screen door and stepping onto the stone threshold, he looked up and down the street. It was completely deserted. Swearing under his breath, he slammed the door, locked it again, and returned to his chair. When he reached toward the table beside his chair, his hand stopped in mid-air. It was gone. Jumping to his feet, he looked nervously around the room. He placed it on the table when the doorbell rang. He knew it was there, but now it is gone. Shaking nervously, he eagerly retraced his steps. Nowhere along the path from his chair to the door did he find it. Damn, damn, damn. Where was it? Back. " He then immediately went back to his work with his back half turned towards where Yvonne stood.The ploy of not giving her a chance to say anything, had worked well with Yvonne on the previous occasion, and now Tony used it again, this time with the test that she had to actually go and take up the magazine herself.Tony didn't dare look in case he scared her from picking up the porno mag, if that was indeed what she would now do. Instead, he kept working and digging diligently for some further half an hour before again straightening up and stretching his tired back. He banged the soil from the shovel, then gathered up the other implements and made his way to the garden shed, then walked back up to his house, swivelling his eyes across to see if the magazine was gone."Yes, yes, yes," he triumphantly muttered to himself, "the dirty little slut couldn't resist."Glancing at the clock, Tony prepared his lunch and felt in a great humour at his latest little triumph.Time went on and it was.
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