She looks at me with fire in her eyes. "I ain't fixing your fucking dinner. I'm tired. I had a hard day and I just got home from work. Fix your own fucking dinner."

She's beautiful when she's angry. "With a salad on the side. Make sure the carrot slices are thinner. You made them too thick the last time."

She's really angry now. That excites me, I can feel it in my cock. She screams into my face. "Are you listening to me at all? ARE YOU? ARE YOU?"

"And a beer. Not that lite shit you once tried to serve me. A real beer." I add politely, "Thanks, babe."

That was not too much to ask for. But she's beyond her limit for patience and she screams "That's it. That's IT. I've have had it with you. Good bye, Johnny. Good bye. Have a nice life. But abuse some other woman. I. AM. DONE."

She stomps to the door. What a great ass. I get hard just watching it. And she slams the door without looking back, there's a silence, then I can hear her slamming her own car door after she gets in. I imagine her angrily taking her key out of her purse and jamming it in the ignition. I hear her car start, then she drives away.

Then silence.

I hate this.

I need her here and moving around, doing things. Making noise. Even arguing with me. I need to see her naked, and fuck her, and hear that she loves me. I want to feel her taking care of me and that I'm special and loved.

I go to the fridge to get my own beer, which pisses me off. I do not like this pain. She has to come back. She just has to. I sit back in my chair in my empty house with the beer I had to get for myself.

But she was so angry at me – maybe she won't come back this time. Maybe she just drove out of my life. I take a long swig of my beer. Maybe she'll come back here tomorrow while I'm at work and pick up her things, and I'll never see her again.

I try to tell myself I can live without her. I'll be okay. I take another long drink of beer. I hate feeling vulnerable.

I should think about work or something, but I'm imagining her arm with all its delicate little hairs as she puts down my beer, or her being angry but still carefuly fixing me my steak while she wears her stupid apron. I want her here. Serving me my dinner to prove she loves me. Is that too much to ask?

Another long swig. I'm drinking on an empty stomach. That's her fault, the fucking bitch. Why do I do let her do this to me? I feel like burning all of her clothes. She'll come back tomorrow to get her things and find only ashes.

I hear a car pulling into the driveway. I jump up and look out the window. It's her. I breathe a sigh of relief. I lock the door and return to my chair. She came back to me. She needs me.

She tries to come in. When she discovers the door's locked, she shakes it angrily. I don't know what she expected – to just walk in like nothing happened? She starts pounding on the door. I sit in my chair, enjoying my victory.

Then she just knocks nicely. Good girl. I get up out of my chair, unlock the door, open the door, and stand in the doorway, blocking her from entering unless she wants to push past me. I keep my face stony and just look calmly at her.

"I . . . uh . . ." She didn't even think out what she was going to say. "I'm sorry, Johnny."

"I like hearing that. It's a good start, babe. But sorry for what?"

Again anger flashes in her eyes, but she hides it. "I guess, uh, sorry for leaving. Sorry, for not fixing your dinner. I was tired."

"I forgive you."

She smiles, she starts to come into my arms for a hug, but then she sees my face, which is still unforgiving. I ask her calmly, "Do you think we're going to have this problem again?"

She looks sad. "I don't know. I get so tired. I hope not." I glare at her. Then she says what I want to hear: "I mean no, I won't be that way again. I was being hot-headed and stupid. You know me – always too emotional."

I put out my arms for a hug, and she falls into me. I wrap my arms around her, and I can feel her warm body shaking. She holds me so tight, so desperately, and she buries her head in my shoulder. I stroke her hair, trying to comfort her. She says, "I love you so much."

That's what I wanted to hear. "I love you more."

She looks up me and smiles. "No, I love you more."

"And?"

She's still smiling. "I want you to fuck me until my voice is hoarse."

I can feel my erection. "And?"

She smiles. "And I want to fix you a steak dinner. Medium rare, just how you like it. Salad on the side with carrot slices so thin you can see through them."

Now I smile.

She asks worriedly, "Can I come in now?"

"Of course."