Paolo's wife watches him in the kitchen mirror. Behind her and always to one side, he sits looking up at her face, panting a little and every now and again swallowing his saliva. Clicking her tongue in a mischievous way, she sighs and shifts her weight onto her other leg to turn her back on him again. Then soon (she enjoys the game) she glances from beneath lowered eyelids into the mirror once more. Of course her husband has already reappeared next to her and she quickly lowers her gaze to the table-top. Presently she shifts again and this time her husband bumps into view, sliding his bottom along the tiling to get back a sight of her face, which pleases her and sets off more tongue-clicking.
Having wiped her hands on her pinafore she moves across to the sink and from the corner of her eye, watches her husband who pricks his ears up and trembles. Smiling broadly, she puts her hands on her hips, leans backwards, and laughs silently at the ceiling before she turns at last to her husband. Now, he can have her attention. He enjoys her caresses. Taking the lobe of his ear between her thumb and finger, she rolls the flesh around while he slides his hips, tentatively, nearer to her.
It is then that the hissing on the stove sounds (something it now becomes clear he's been waiting for) and hearing the call of food, the man dashes up, escaping from the hold of the woman, and in a frenzy of excitement, avoiding a further lunge from her, hovers around the bubbling pot. The woman in her anger and her hurt raises a stick to him until he cowers and curls-up in the kitchen corner, wrestling with his confusion.
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