"Shana, you don't know what you're saying." He shakes his head again, goes to the counter for more coffee.
"Look at what you're wearing, sweety. I picked it out for you. Red silk lounging pajamas. They look good on you. The pullover top is more feminine than masculine, the bottoms are kind of unisex. And there's nothing wrong with that. I think you should get more into the role, consciously being what you already are subconsciously."
"And just what do you mean by that?" he demands.
"Exploring your feminine side is what I mean." She looks in his eyes. "I want you to do it, You're just afraid you might like it too much."
"I can't believe this is you, Shana, sitting there, calmly drinking coffee, talking about making me into your housewife. This is ridiculous."
"Is it?" she challenges with arched eyebrow. "Your hair almost covers your ears now. You let it grow out with no prodding from me. The color is deeper, more vibrant. It accents that henna tint." She extends her hand, palm out, anticipating his objections. "You sat in front of me at the beauty parlor, leafing through a Cosmo. When I prompted you to pay attention to how the pedicurist did my toenails you were at first reluctant but then became attentive. You sat in the chair and let my stylist do your hair.
"And look at your toenails, dear. That new color, how it kind of goes with your new highlighted hair. Oh, you objected a little when I told you to paint your nails. But not much. Not that much. You secretly wanted to paint your toenails. It gave me a rush when you easily complied with my wishes. How many husbands attend their wives like you do me? I didn't cajole you into helping me dress in the morning. You like it. It excites you. Hell, it excites me. You're like my personal dresser. My own little maid in a way. And damnit, Robbie, I love it. So do you. You just won't admit it. You were excited when you did my nails. Your little hard-on was obvious.
"And last night you wore panties under those sexy gold pants."