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Beauty Is In The Pie Of The Beholder

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Edgar lit the single candle in the middle of the rose petal covered table. Perfect. Fey would be home in a few hours so he would have to hurry unless he wanted his wife to discover his little affair. He glanced at the clock and realized that he still had a few minutes to spare before his special guest would be there, so he slipped into his bedroom to change into something a bit more "comfortable".

Twenty minutes later the doorbell rang. Finally; she had arrived.

When he opened the door he was greeted by a young, greasy-faced man strewn with pimples and a wispy line hair over his upper lip. “Your order has arrived, Sir,” he squeaked. His voice cracked when he saw Edgar standing seductively in the doorway with a red rose clamped between his teeth in all his half-naked glory; wearing only a translucent silk morning gown, a skimpy thong, and a top hat. Edgar eyed the flat cardboard box in the boy’s hand with a mixture of hunger and lust.

“That- that’ll be three dollars, Sir,” the delivery boy stammered as he handed Edgar the cardboard box with shaking hands.

Edgar practically threw the money at him before slamming the door in the boy’s face. He ran back into the kitchen and placed the box carefully on the table. The sound of smooth jazz drifted through the candle-lit room as he ran a finger along the lid of the pastry box. “We’re all alone now, darling” he whispered. He slipped a finger underneath the lid and opened it slightly to let out some of the heavenly aromas. The sweet smell hit his nose and he threw his head back in pure ecstasy.

The foreplay was making him impatient, so he ripped off the lid and threw it hungrily to the side, revealing The Lime Pie. She was beautiful: her crust was golden brown, her edges were lined with small poofs of whipped cream, and she was decorated with a single juicy lime slice.

“I’m about to give you some more filling,” he whispered as he bit his lip.

His tongue trailed the glossy surface as he tasted her sweet flesh. He moaned loudly. The only thing that mattered to him at that moment was the passionate lust between him and the pretty pastry in front of him. He licked his lips and ripped off his thong in one fluid motion. He was about to take the old saying “a finger in every pie” to a whole new level.

The door slammed open. Edgar froze like a deer in headlights at the sight of his wife.

“I’m home,” Fey said dumbfounded. First, he killed her boyfriend and manipulated her into a shitty marriage, and now she had to deal with this?

“Honey, I can explain,”

“I can’t wait to hear what ridiculous excuse you’ll make up this time. Did you just happen to wander into the kitchen and accidentally stick your dick in a pie?”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

Fey eyed her naked husband with dismay. “So that’s why there are always mysterious holes in all the pies you bring home,”. She recalled their last date and how exited Edgar had been to try the pie. She was starting to wonder if she was the only sane person in the household; at least her son didn’t have any sexual interest in inanimate objects.

“Fey, darling, it’s not what it looks like, I swear-”

She placed her hand on her hips. “Do you chose me or that tart?”

He gazed at the love of his life and then back to his furious wife. Love and trust, or lust and crust? This shouldn’t be a hard choice to make yet he couldn't bring himself to imagine his life without either of them. This choice should have been easy as pie.

“Please, give me a moment to think-”

“I will give you the rest of your miserable life to think, alone”. Fey turned around and marched out before slamming the door with enough force to make the windows rattle.

Edgar listened to her descending footsteps and finally the sound of the front door closing. He sighed.

“Good-pie, my sweet love”.