The pouting wife
He walked through the house turning out lights and locking the outside doors, the last thing he did before going to bed.
She was in the bathroom, already in her nightshirt, bent over the sink washing her face.
He walked behind her and as he walked by let his hand pass over her backside in an act of affection. Her only response was to stare icily at him through the mirror and then resume splashing water on her face.
He turned, stepped into the walk-in closet behind her, and quickly grabbed two neckties off the rack on the wall. Moving quickly now, he stepped back behind her still bent figure and without saying a word, grabbed the bottom of her nightshirt, jerked the hem up so as to cover her head and ensnare her arms.
She screeched and struggled in surprise and anger as he wrapped his arms around her, lifted her off the floor and carried her into the bedroom. She kicked and flailed as he dropped her on the bed face down and straddled her back.
“Goddammit!” she screamed, “Leave me alone!”