This Wicked Wednesday, which of course, I'm doing on Friday because I just thought about it this morning... the word is proud.

His pride suffocated everyone else in the room. On and on, his voice became a steady drone about himself. So proud, so intent on making sure everyone knows about it. The award he had won clenched in his hand as he waved it about while he spoke.

I noticed when he began to realize people were no longer hearing him, trying to avoid him. His face changed then. He got quiet and somehow even quieter once he sat down at his table to find everyone else had moved their name tags elsewhere. It was sad to see him then. Pride is like acid when your bubble is burst.

The award had meant a lot to him. Being a good sport, a good winner, isn't so easy when you aren't used to winning.

I didn't like to see him deflated this way. I prefer a man to be human, versus the blow hard he had been when he was still so full of his own pride. However, this wasn't just pity I was feeling. He was hurt, like a wounded little boy - except he wasn't a boy. There was no pout to his expression, no sour grapes or signs of being a spoiled brat. He was just sad. Sitting alone, taking it like a man.

Being the sort of woman attracted to men... I joined his table.

He looked up but didn't speak. Good, a little humble was a good thing. I smiled, a slow smile as if I had all the time in the world to move my lips upwards. A friend claimed my slow smile made me look like a shark in red lipstick. I was feeling a bit like a shark now.

He smiled back, just a touch of self-depreciation. I liked it.

Rising from my seat at the table, letting my curves speak for themselves as I walked away, I left my room key for him to pick up. These little games of seduction are fun for the not knowing - not having a plan with all the finer points worked out.

Of course, I'm not into taking too many chances. We've been married long enough for me to know he can't resist my slinky red dress and my shark smile.