I guess this story would be considered fan fiction. It’s included in my new book, If I Can’t Wave Like a Princess I Must Be a Loser.
I’m not going to embarrass myself by mentioning how many times I’ve read Gone with the Wind. (20.) If that seems insane, get this – I’ve read the sequel Scarlett at least ten times. There has to be other Gone with the Wind junkies out there so I’m probably not the only one who wonders what happened to Scarlett and Rhett as they grew old together.
Rhett opened the door for Scarlett and they stood in the foyer looking at the familiar sight of their former home.
“Well, here we are, Scarlett. I first met you fifty years ago and now we’re back in Atlanta on Peachtree Street in this monstrosity of a house.”
“Hush, Rhett. You know I always loved this house. I’m so happy you were able to buy it back.”
“Yes, and I’m sure all the orphans who had to relocate are happy as well.”
“Fiddle-dee-dee! They’re orphans. These living arrangements were entirely too grand for the likes of them. I’m sure they’ll be much more comfortable in that converted warehouse.”
Rhett rolled his eyes. “No doubt you’re right, my dear.”
“Oh, Rhett. We had some happy memories in this house, didn’t we?”
“We certainly did. That staircase hasn’t changed a bit. Do you remember that night?”
Rhett laughed. “These days I can’t remember that nice old O’Hara family retainer’s name, but…”
“…I can certainly remember how my body reacted to the feel of you in my arms the night I carried you up that staircase.” He leered and fumbled for his manhood, missing it by a significant margin. In his younger days, his cornucopia-of-plenty would already be seven inches further north.
He gave up in his search for wood and continued racking his brain. “Damn! That drives me crazy. What was her name?”
“I can see her as clear as if she is standing right in front of us, shaking her head in disapproval at our shenanigans. She could be a judgmental old bitch.”
“Do you remember her massive breasts? Man alive, those things could inflame the loins of even the staunchest of Klan members.”
“She always used an ingratiating Negro dialect to curry favor with your family. I’m really surprised y’all fell for it. When the two of us were alone we had intelligent conversations in the Queen’s English. Mony? Mattie? Meggie?”
“I’m pretty sure it was something like that. Do you remember her name, darling?”
“Christ on a crutch! Her name was Mammy! Mammy! What the hell is the matter with you? You damned old fool!” Scarlett crossed herself and furtively looked around. Her years in Ireland had taught her the pleasures of cursing, but she was still Catholic enough to expect the local priest to leap from beneath a Victorian couch and demand her confession for taking the Lord’s name in vain.
“Mammy. That’s it! You’re such a clever girl. It’s the main reason I’ve always been attracted to you; that and your succulent cantaloupes and savory pumpkin pie.” He gave her a feeble wink.
“Rhett, you know damn well I can’t cook.”
He grabbed her and pulled her close. “That may well be, but even so, you have always caused my blood to boil.”
She jerked out of his grasp and said, “Fiddle-dee-dee, Rhett. How you do go on about the silliest things.”
Rhett grabbed her again and this time planted both gnarled and arthritic hands on her buttocks. A puzzled look came over his face as his hands roamed freely without his wife striking him.
He grinned and said, “You know my dear, this bustle makes your bottom look big.”
Scarlett shrieked like a legendary banshee of her Irish ancestors. “God damnit, Rhett! You know good and well bustles went out of fashion back in 1893 and I haven’t worn one since then.”
“Just how would I know that? I haven’t seen you naked in over ten years.”
“Take my word for it. You hound. Ashley would never insult me like that.”
“That damn Ashley. After all we’ve been through, in moments of intimacy you still bring him up. When are you going to get it through your silly head that Ashley is a poof and he’s always been a poof? Just because he married Melanie and then that fat schoolteacher after Melanie died, doesn’t make him any less of a poof. Remember when I joined the Friends of the Widows of the Glorious Fallen of the One True Right and Just Cause so I could get in good with all the old harpies in the neighborhood? At one of the meetings that poofer put his hand on my knee and asked if I would like to join him in the hallway for a private viewing of his most prized possession. I punched him in the nose during the taking of the minutes. I pretended to be inebriated to spare poor Melanie any embarrassment.”
“How very considerate of you. Now if you don’t let go of my bottom right this minute, I shall scream!”
“Scream all you like, my dear. Scream like you did when we were floating down the Nile on a barge. Remember the carved ivory phallus? I seem to recall you were screaming in pleasure back then.”
“Well, I seem to recall you didn’t look like an Egyptian mummy back then.”
“I seem to recall you weren’t even close to being a world class bitch back then.”
Scarlett swung and delivered a stinging slap to Rhett’s shriveled face.
Rhett released Scarlett’s ample buttocks and took her face in his hands. He lowered his trembling lips to hers. She struggled for only a moment and then gave in to her growing passion. Their soft tongues and pruny lips dueled for supremacy. Old feelings came flooding back to the couple. Rhett was almost positive his trousers had become uncomfortably tight and Scarlett could have sworn she felt a bit of moistness in her bloomers.
Scarlett broke free and looked up at Rhett with her mermaid eyes. “With the exception of that bartender in the pub in Dublin, you always were the best kisser.”
Rhett silenced her with another kiss. If he gave her a chance to talk about all the men she slept with during the time they were divorced, he’d never get her upstairs for a little slap and tickle. Their mouths as one, Rhett swept his wife into his arms and attempted to run up the majestic staircase. Momentum carried him to the fifth stair before his knees buckled. Scarlett made a vain attempt to save herself by grasping for the banister. They slowly rolled down the few stairs. She landed first, her skirt and petticoat up around her waist. He thudded face down between her shapely legs and his tired lungs let out a whoomp!
He raised his head and gave her that charming look she loved so well. They both began to laugh.
“Piggy back again, my dear?”
Scarlett smiled and said, “Piggy back it is.”
He cautiously rose, reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet. The two hugged and Scarlett turned to face the staircase. Rhett pressed his manhood against her buttocks, wrapped his arms around her neck and gingerly hopped onto her back.
As she struggled up the staircase with her heavy load she asked, “Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
“Frankly my dear, it’s a banana. But when we get to the bedroom, I’ll be more than happy to see you.”