Morticia Addams was a happily married woman, there was no doubt. She was also what some would call flirtatious. Her soft voice and cat-like eyes enhanced the effect, but there was no denying that she was well aware of her beauty and allure, and this gave her a quiet confidence when speaking to people. A sideways glance, a coy smile, an incline of her head and a suggestive lilt to her voice was all it took to drive most men – and not a few women – to distraction. As a young woman, Morticia had often been told by her dear Mama to reign it in, lest she give someone the wrong impression and leave hurt feelings in her wake.
"Oh Mama, a little friendliness never hurt anyone. It's harmless," Morticia had replied, flashing a rare smile.
The night she had met Gomez, Morticia had felt a change. She had been so used to being in control, knowing that whoever she was talking with desired her a great deal more than she did them. Now all of a sudden, the tables were turning. Gomez Addams was handsome, debonair, and with an accent that caused her whole core to shiver. Her usual cool detached flirtation had deserted her in a heartbeat, replaced with a deep blush to her usually snow white cheeks, and a tendency to look anywhere but into those seductive dark eyes that bore into her soul. That night she had met her match. As the night had worn on and they had wandered the graveyard, Gomez leading the conversation in his easy manner, Morticia had found her want and fascination for this man to override her nerves, and little by little she became her quietly confident self once more. The only difference this time was that for once, she truly meant the suggestiveness her coquettish looks conveyed to her companion, and she truly cared that he understood her meaning, even requited her passion and intrigue.
Over the years, Morticia had come to do just as Mama had suggested… reign in her flirting. Just a little. Not for the reason her mother had stated all those years ago; that she might give some poor lovesick fool the wrong impression. No, the risk she no longer wanted to take was with the feelings of her beloved husband. He was patient and kind with her, it is true, but his Castilian nature made him wildly jealous – and apt to act impetuously on that jealousy – at the slightest look between his beloved and another man. In their early days, Morticia had found his envy thrilling, almost inviting it on a daily basis with whoever they came into contact with. She loved knowing Gomez would kill for her adoration, would happily wound and mar anyone who lay a hand upon his querida. But as time had gone on, she had come to realise that it was not just a harmless exercise to Gomez. She worshipped him, and her need to protect his feelings overwhelmed the satisfaction she got fom the admiring glances and stammering conversation of a stranger. And so Morticia's coquettishness became a treat reserved only for her husband, although far from private. No matter who was present, social propriety was known to fly out the window once Gomez and Morticia locked eyes with each other. Nor does Gomez mind any longer on the odd occasion Morticia goes out alone and smiles at a handsome stranger in the street, for he knows upon her return, she will spend the whole night making his pleasure her only goal. It is fully worth those few seconds of jealousy.
