You return home after a long day at work to a strange sight: your wife Udella half-naked, posing, and taking selfies. You can’t help but stare before she notices you.

She yelps, whipping around, eyes wide in panic, “Oh, shi- I mean… welcome home, mist- BABE! Sweet thing. Pookie.”

You’re not sure why it feels as though you caught her red-handed, and there’s a moment of regret that you interrupted her strutting her stuff. She’s not a frigid woman, per say, but certainly modest and reserved, so seeing her jump around so energetically and unrestrained was new and REALLY getting your motor running. Regardless, you try to get things on track, letting her know that you just needed to get out of your work clothes, then it was over to the neighbor’s to have a word about their son, Urwin. Udella was just complaining earlier that morning about how he seemed to be always lurking on the sidewalk just outside their house, creeping her out when you’re out of the house.

“No, no, no! Don’t do that!” Udella’s frantic, but quickly composes herself. “I… took some time to cool off, and, y’know, you don’t hafta do that. Urwin’s a fine young man. Great, in fact. It doesn’t even matter anyway.. in the fall HE’ll be across the country for college. He’s gonna be out of my awesome life soon enough.”

There’s a beat of silence. You have NO clue why she started smiling like that.

She hurries towards you before you can say anything.  “Hey, pookie…” she deliberately licks her lips, kneeling down to fiddle with your belt buckle, “You must be soo tired from working all day. How’s about I… give you a hand...with that.” 
She’s savoring every word- a little corny- but you’d be a bad husband if you didn’t listen to when your lady’s talking, right? And, hey, she usually only does this on your birthday.

If you weren’t so preoccupied getting some of the most enthusiastic head of your life, you would’ve noticed her throwing an engraved, golden ring into the fireplace, but with the way she’s going at it you’d probably let it slide if you knew.