She sat down on the edge of the bed, unclasping the gold bracelet on her wrist.

“What did you think of her?” Her husband asked from the closet, as he unknotted his neck tie.

“What did I think of who?” She asked, pretending she didn’t know exactly who her husband was referring to.

“What do you mean, who?” Her husband asked, knowing that by placing emphasis on the “who,” by giving it importance, his words would sting his wife even more.

“I met so many people this evening, darling,” she replied in the most nonchalant tone she could muster. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Her husband let out a small snicker under his breath, not intending for her to hear, even though she did.

“Cybill,” he replied, his lips turning into a smile, saying her name.

“Cybill?” She asked, not daring to give her husband the satisfaction of knowing that she knew exactly who he was referring to. “I don’t recall meeting a Cybill,” she said, allowing her voice to trail off into a yawn, hoping her husband would interpret it as her being bored with their conversation about the woman.

From the closet, her husband smiled broadly, curious as to whether his wife was playing a mind game with him.

“Cybill, darling. My new secretary. Don’t you recall meeting her? I introduced the two of you. She was the blonde, wearing the black dress, drinking a martini.” He added the details, wanting his wife to become combative, aware of the fact that he had paid close attention to another woman.

“Was that the woman wearing the inappropriately short black dress?” She asked her husband in her most gossiping tone, knowing that by doing so, he would either have to respond by insulting his new mistress or be quick enough to channel the conversation in a new direction, and she smiled to herself, still sitting on the bed, anticipating his response.

“She’s young,” he replied, wanting his defense of his secretary to get a rise out of his wife.

“I think what you meant to say was that she’s naive,” she responded, taking advantage of her second opportunity to insult his new secretary and mistress, even though, of course, she knew he was unaware of the fact that she knew they were sleeping together.

Intrigued, he considered his wife’s words and stepped into their bedroom, where she now stood, looking him in the eye, and he wondered if she knew about his affair.

Calmly, she turned around, and without even speaking, he unzipped her little black dress, as he had done so many times before, letting the garment slide to the floor.

“Thank you,” she replied in an even tone, now turning around to meet his gaze, knowing that she had won their little communicative spar. Her husband was now looking at her, though, half lovingly, half inquisitively, still trying to mentally reconcile what had just transpired between the two of them.