Casa Soprano. Tony, taking a piss. He looks over at the shower to see a woman inside. The shower door slowly opens to reveal a naked body, and we cut from Lorraine Bracco's body double to a wet Melfi saying, "Mr. Soprano," the same way she does when she comes out into the waiting area.
In bed, Tony bolts upright and immediately checks to make sure Carmela hasn't woken up. She's sleeping, but when he puts his hand on her waist, she snaps to and asks eagerly, "You want sex?" Oh, my holy God. "No…go back to sleep," he murfles, patting her and flopping back onto his pillow. Carmela -- VIBRATOR! Please! You'll thank me later!
Cut to Irina peeling her top off and stepping down from her heels. Tony compliments her "nice body," but says she "oughta make it work for [her] more." "Oh, really?" she says sultrily. Tony thinks she reveals too much in the way she dresses. Irina asks teasingly if he doesn't want other men looking at her, which he blows off, saying that when she's not with him, she can do what she wants, but maybe she could try wearing "a nice business-like outfit" once in a while. Oh, ew. "I think I could get into that," he adds. "You want me to dress like a man?" "No -- no, you fuckin' whackadoo, I don't want you to dress like a man. I'm just sayin'…maybe wear somethin' a little more professional, you know, like you're in business." Irina takes this to mean that he wants her to dress like a hooker and tells him to fuck off, and he tries to explain but then sighs heavily, "Ah, forget it," and he sits on the bed and says, "C'mere." She waves her hand "no." "Is everybody in my life bananas or what?" he mutters to himself, then bellows at Irina, "Get over here!" She sulks towards him, but when he takes her arm, she pulls away and shuts herself in the bathroom, snitting, "Go jerk off!" "Yeah, go jerk off," he sighs.
"Look at this -- she burned me," Tony tells Melfi, pointing to the candle injury on his arm. "That's not good," Melfi says, then asks what led up to that. Tony dissembles that "Carmela can be pretty violent sometimes." He goes on to say that, with the "added problem" (i.e. the impotence), he thought maybe they needed to spice things up a little to give him a "jump start," so he suggested to her "that maybe she dress a little different." "Something titillating," Melfi pipes up, and Tony says yes, he thought it might help, "so I suggested to her -- not demanded, suggested -- you know, maybe dress a little sexier. But Carmela can be very sensitive." "Well, maybe she felt it degraded her," Melfi proposes. "Not all women are into sexy lingerie." Tony says impatiently that he's not talking about dressing like that, and Melfi wonders, "Then what are we talking about?" Tony says that "some women are sexier when they dress, you know -- understated. I'm -- I don't mean…fuck it, I don't know what I mean." A silence. Melfi regards Tony quietly, and he looks away, then admits, "Like you." Amused, she asks, "How like me?" "You play it down," he says, fixing her with a smoldering look. "It's obvious you got a killer body under there. Don't get me wrong," he adds hastily. "All right," she says mildly, and he continues, "Not only do you play it down…but you're gentle. Not loud. Sweet-sounding. Like a mandolin." She smiles slightly. Tony gets up out of his chair. She sees what he's doing and says in a warning tone, "Anthony," but he walks over and leans in and plants a kiss on her, and she does hesitate for a split second and let their lips touch before leaning as far back in her chair as she can and pushing him away. She smiles firmly and gets up herself: "It's unfortunate that we have to stop now, because I think it's really important we talk about this. Do you think you could come back later this afternoon?" Still standing too close to her in pre-kiss mode, Tony smolders, "No." There's a moment where it seems like they might kiss after all; then Melfi says flatly, "'Til Tuesday. Okay?" "Yeah, all right," Tony says, sounding bummed, then wiggles his eyebrows and smarms, "See you Tuesday." He walks slowly to the door, opens it, stands there for a moment drumming his fingers on it, and then, finally, when he sees Melfi isn't going to give in, he leaves. After he goes, Melfi lets out a sigh and turns away from the door.
Melfi at home, reading. She hears glass breaking outside and a dog barking; suspicious, she creeps to a front window and peers outside, just in time to see a police cruiser-type vehicle turn its lights on and pull away.