1 comments/ 2584 views/ 3 favorites Shy Boldness, or Bold Shyness? By: djayem Disclaimer: This story could have been classified as much in " Humour and Satire" as it was in "Erotic Couplings", perhaps even in "Nonconsent" or in "Romance" depending on your specific definitions of those two topics and how --sometimes- they are not mutually exclusive. If you are seeking a fast and minimalist introduction before the sex gets underway, you might want to look elsewhere as this is not it. Previously posted on another forum. ------------------------------------------------- The slanted halo, shy boldness or bold shyness ------------------------------------------------- On a referral from my friend Rick I was invited to one of Suzanne's evening, one which was only attended by singles. This was regrettable since I am a of those who avoid organised hunts for mates, flirty society parties, blind dates, or any such find-someone event. Most people in those circumstances are as a rule on their best behaviours, meaning that imperfections are shadowed while qualities are polished. Once you manage to see past the thin veneer of excitement and novelty, you realise that these conditions create instead a bland, predictable, and repetitive way to try to find a life companion. Don't get me wrong, I'm as guilty as anyone else of that same damned behaviour since it is human nature to do so. In my opinion, however, better results would materialize in the long term should one meet that special someone in a pottery class, or bump into them on the street. Some would call it relying on fate; I call it the natural spice of life. Just as I picked up the phone to reject the invitation, intending to be polite but firm, I decided that this 'Suzanne' hadn't earned my frustration. Ricky -not her- knew of my distaste for such meat markets, with its artifices and falsehoods, so I decided to reach out to him first, thus allowing myself to vent on his person and thus insuring myself that my irritability at the situation would be depleted once I called the lady whose grace had sent me a blind invitation. I toyed with calling Rick simultaneously on his home number and his cell phone, in order to burn his ears in stereo. Once he answered, he listened with patience to my diatribe. "Best of intents" was his soothing reply, with the expected "Good looking guy like you", and then I was served the "Alone for so long," which is often seasoned with a "Mystery to me." Alright, I get the point. I'm considered handsome by the ladies, fine. I exercise and I brush my teeth too, even better. Yet loneliness still had settled itself in my life. That was an unwelcome fact in my life, true, but I was not the only one on the planet in those circumstances. As I was about to retort along those lines a surprising "If I had a sister" threw me for a loop. Women might not appreciate how powerful such a statement can be to a man when it comes from another man. Even if it only involves a hypothetical sibling, true friends do not use such statements lightly. So as I was getting back my mental footing, he told me about a food orgy he had attended not long ago as one of Suzanne's guests. Everyone was dressed and were served a cold buffet, but anything eaten must be enjoyed from the plate of someone else's skin; fingers and hands not allowed anywhere near the lips. The originality of the event stopped me cold. Hmm. Her little nibbles of a tasty what-not in the hollow of my neck; or my slow enjoyment of some succulent whatever in the nook of her elbow. Fashion offered delicious possibilities. Rick warned me not to expect the same as Suzanne seldom repeated a theme. All I was to expect was an ice breaker ambiance which would also serve to separate the guests in order to better reunite them with like minds. Like a sexy scavenger hunt, or a sensual twist to the classic cheese and wine. For having organised these suggestive concepts, naughty but lewd-less, my hostess had earned my respect without having even met her. So that Saturday night, a light flurry of lazy snow fell as I drove the few hours to her chalet. Her holiday home was wide, cute-ish in its European mountain style, with a wooden deck circling the second floor; but it wasn't very big either. From what I had gathered, a room would be placed at our disposal for the night. So I envisioned twenty-plus odd bedrooms, a kitchen to feed us tonight and tomorrow morning, added to a large living room for all to interact. Possible, but it stretched the imagination. This I mentioned to my hostess once I was greeted at the door, after the welcoming formalities were done. "The surrounding deck is extended in the back," she explained with a serene smile. Wearing a formal and elegant black dress, complimenting her mid-back blond hair, her fingers laced before her straight posture, she was all regal majesty. Raymond, her butler I presumed by his attire screaming his middle name as 'Jeeves', relieved me of my coat as he added the missing explanation. "It links to another chalet behind us." I made the expected 'Ah' of comprehension. Two chalets? Interconnected? This lady took her evenings very seriously then. She must have been a betrothal arranger in another life. "The evening is quite simple," Suzanne said. My ears perked up as I deduced that she would explain tonight's unique angle. "I ask only that you mingle, enjoy yourself, but that later you respect my roof in keeping to your own assigned room." I schooled my features to hide my regret as Raymond handed me a numbered key while taking my bag of night clothes. That was it? Mingle as any other party? With the reputation of her evenings, which Rick had filled my ears with like honey, was she serious? I frowned as an eyebrow shot up, my brows now a funny diagonal. This was impossible to enforce, not with two chalets filled with tiptoeing sexsneaks who had came with sweetened expectations. The naughty disappointment alone would do the reverse, it'd create a slow simmer among her guests and- Sunlight hit the back of the cave. Oh nice. No unusual party organisation, yet with a single sentence she recreated the same ice breaker. I gathered that she saw my confusion being replaced by comprehension, because she nodded her leave with a faint smile and a devious quality in her parting glance. She then left for other arriving guests. Now intrigued, I took the room in a long look. Carved mouldings were everywhere, and furnished with elegant antique darkened woods. But it included few seats, so this seeming lack forced all present to stand. And to mingle. And were on permanent display. Also, most guests were sharp contrasts to the setting: jeans, dresses, suits, T-shirts, slacks, turtlenecks, jackets and even... Bermudas? I laid an arm across my chest, my other elbow on its wrist, with my chin falling into my hand. We are a diverse bunch aren't we? The simple explanation was that people hadn't known the theme, and had guessed as to how to dress, as I had. Despite Rick's food-orgy clincher I hadn't dressed with that intent in my mind, but I now realised that without thinking I had picked loose fabrics, easy to be pushed aside to reveal my skin, with my neck left bare. Wardrobes, which more often than not clued to personalities, had also been chosen tonight with secret expectations and thus were now giving insightful hints to our hidden desires. Either our hostess was a genius with a twisted sense of humour, or we were part a secret governmental research. I began the rounds, keeping to myself but attentive to those around me, to sound them out before I mingled. "What do you think of tonight's restriction?" was asked in various combinations during my casual survey of the conversations. And asked. And asked again. Constantly asked. A mental sigh of respect fluttered against my thoughts; Suzanne knew was she was doing alright. The downside was that halfway through the room, boredom had settled within me to that repetitive question. But one male response, to a feminine inquiry, made me grant my first award for honest yet original answer. "That it will be broken before midnight?" "Is that an observation?" was purred back. "Or an intent?" Second prize awarded, for replies this time. That soft feline vibration, containing that hidden proposal, stated her intent. Interesting as the conversation might develop, I left them to their semi-privacy. My hearing roamed as my feet did the same within the room. "...I'm sorry," a clear feminine voice said levelly, a true apology in her tones, not a brush off. "But I had a hard day, and a long drive. No bad feelings?" It sounded simple, honest, without subtle heart games or false ego stroking. I approved with a tilt of my head. "Long, Hard and Bad feelings are what I'm looking for..." was replied and her interlocutor left it hanging, the bait swinging in his heated wordless breath. His deliberate misunderstanding to her polite refusal, twisting it to add that verbal pounce, rubbed me in every way but the right ones. My spine twisted in annoyance as I grimaced. "Not tonight," she said firmly, a verbal slap on his wrist. Then she added in a heavy flirt, "but perhaps another time?" Oh the tease... Some perversity of my temperament cheered for that playful rebuttal. I turned towards the voices where a heavyset man blocked my view of a brunette, seeing only see her head above his shoulder. She gave him a slow sensual wink added to a saucy smile. To his back reacting as a released bow, added that when I received such a combination it weakened my knees, I knew he'd just been devastated. Good girl!! And by sending clear negative signals for tonight yet sending mixed signals towards a near future she had ensured herself that he would not push his luck tonight in fear of ruining his next opportunity with her. And who knows? She might be more receptive of him during their next encounter, so it wasn't a complete lie. I found such ambiguous personalities refreshing. They kept you on your toes Over his shoulder, her eyes met mine for a brief moment, rounded a little, only to look away as her mouth closed. After a flicker of a return glance to my eyes, her lips slit shut save a tiny circle in their center. Then she walked away. I debated whether to follow her or not, but decided against it. She had exited without a clear invitation for me to join her. She had perhaps escaped to regroup, to regain a firmer footing which we all needed at parties sometimes. I had all night. I made a mental note, to keep my eyes sharp for any signs of her, and then stuck it to the forefront of my mind. Raymond welcomed a new arrival, distracting me, as her beauty was breath taking, even for a stunning blonde. He took off her coat, revealing a curvy figure and a gravity-defying chest which other women envied in their secret hearts. Then the butler handed her a filled glass of red wine. His foreknowledge of her beverage preference did reveal her as a regular of these soirées. Her appearance had argued otherwise, since logic suggested that she should have snatched --or have been snatched by- a lucky bachelor before she could be labelled as a regular. Intrigued, and wary, I observed her more closely. Her stance, as she took the room in a slow glance, was the confirmation that she was a prowler. Claws clicked against her glass as she inspected the guests. Eyes veiled with curiosity to hide the hungered challenge, her nostrils moving at inhaling the various scents of the party mingled with that of fresh prey. My focus being in her direction, her sights connected to mine and then fixed on me. A corner of her mouth lifted in a twitch, a scary smile, and her eyes darkened, mysterious and unreadable, yet intense. Very intense. I couldn't tell if she was undressing me, or imagining my demise. My own eyes narrowed in her direction with a mild frown; it was flattering, but no thank you. Call me a fool, but predators were not on my menu. Or I should say that I didn't care to be on theirs. So I walked away, back straight, slow steps, as I slipped my hand within a pocket. My tongue found itself a niche in my cheek, as I couldn't help myself using a masculine version of the feminine strut while placing more unhurried distance between us. Yes, I can be a tease. And proud of it too. I caught sight of our hostess and her eyes sparkled with alternate flashes of mischief and satisfaction, biting her lips as if trying not to laugh. She nodded to me as she raised a champagne flute in salute. Either I had broken a speed record in wordless predatory rebuttals, or the huntress had been due a failure. Which ever one, I was glad to oblige. Once I stood at the bar, a ghosted tingle ran over my nape, and I knew someone's gaze was upon me. Predator? I looked into the bar mirror, behind myself, but she was nowhere in sight. I dismissed it from my mind, as I had stalled enough and it was time to mingle. So after I ordered a drink from the hired help, I turned to a lady which was beside me at the bar. My neighbour seemed interested in all things within her immediate vicinity; her glass and me. Glad to... Er... meet you Mary, I'm... Um... Oh, never mind. That Mary was a little high in the alcohol levels was a mild description; that her eyes were floating was closer to the mark. She complained that no one sheemed to be inter'shted in her company. She was a good looking gowl, her hexes all said sh'was a good lay. And they all shwore she gave da best bowljob 'ver!! Sho what made these other tshicks so spucking facial huh? I raised my eyes to the heavens. You're kidding me right? Form the crowd to the bar it seemed that I had left the jungle for the comedy club. I know since I once worked in the comedy circuit. Anyway, another drink and little Mayweee (was that French? "Mais oui!") managed to drink a few sips before it was sloshed and splashed empty to each of her accusations towards all of womanhood. And then things got better... We got a male visitor. He took her attention and conversational skills away from me, by waving his own liquid courage in emphasis to his every fourth word, which either rhymed with duck or ducking. That perverse side of me kept me busy with various forms of grammatical sanitations. I got some trucking ducks, tucking bucks, mocking knocks, pucking canucks, rocks sucking amok. All in the space it took for her to order then receive her newest drink by the barmaid. I'm not a prude, and I've tilted the elbow too hard a few times myself in the past, but still... Double shots were finished and onwards they blasted. A copulate here, chaining it to a fornicate there, and then the sentence was finished. I meant the phrase was finished, my sentence kept on going. But I hung in there. I almost lost it when she stared with sorrow at her empty glass to which he passed the wizened verdict that there must be a hole in the glass. 'Of course there is a hole', almost spilled from my mouth, as it was from where she drank from. But I held it in check and thus it never crossed my lips. And it got weirder. "Cocktails continue", he offered to her. Two words at first glance but which in reality were four separate words slipped into four different sentences by my inebriated neighbours. Oops, five words in four phrases I meant; 'in you' are two words even if in the same breath. Sound it out, you'll see what I mean. But those very two last syllables of his, 'in you', when slurred to describe in details what was exploring her inner self -and to which she seemed agreeable to- was the point I made a hasty retreat by claiming bathroom needs. He was willing, she seemed to be game, so I willed myself away from that game. The patio doors beckoned me, and there was no truer nature call than going outside, thus whitening my lie to the booze-phonic duo. I had to escape this mixture of dream and nightmare, yet all surreal. Clean swept of any snow, with no artificial lights dotting the deck, it was almost perfect. I closed the glass doors to prevent the heat from escaping, and then walked a little to escape the lights from inside. "You've got a twisted sense of humour," I shot in a murmur at the skies, picturing that biblical old man overlapped by the image of the sensual mother of all. Whoever reigned up there, if not both as a two-in-one, they sure must have had a good laugh. Of all of Suzanne's nights, I had to attend the one which mirrored all others I shunned. And tonight's various behaviours were so... so... not encouraging to sharpen the drill and dig beneath the surface. I swore at myself under my breath (the pucking canuck). Did I want some cheese with that whine? I rubbed my hands over my face, drywashing it to stimulate my brain, flush the negativity away and open myself more honestly to the world around me. The breezeless night wasn't chilly, just a cold caress which didn't raise your hairs nor made you shiver. Surprising considering that flakes had fallen not long ago. Once I had walked far enough, about halfway between the two connected chalets, I laid my arms over one another on top of the wooden banister. I glanced at the stars flirted by the backlit moon-glowed clouds. Warmed only by the cold fires of starlight, I drank the night with its cool quiet comfort. One which could be resumed in one word. Peace. "Lonely peace," I murmured as I had no one to share this wonderful moment, fate having denied me once again. No, I wasn't being fair. Fate needed my help for it to help me, because the promise was there. I just had to find it. Find her. And yet it was she who had found me, then and there, as she handed me a glass. Not having heard her approach, I lowered my sights back to earth and I held back a happy sigh as the exquisite creature which graced my view was the wink-and-smile brunette of earlier. Cream coloured loose pants with a shoulderless white blouse enhanced her pale oval face in the moonlight. Her dark brown hair, cut a little higher than shoulder length, didn't make her a true brunette as some blond filaments flirted my eyes with starshine. "Amaretto and coke," she said slowly, a so slight quiver in her clear voice. "You looked like you needed a drink, by the way you left. H-hope it's not too ladyish." "Thank you," I said. I took her offering with a grateful nod of my head. A warm and very affable smile lit my face, which was reflected back to me in her hazel eyes. Her own small smile appeared in response, an embarrassed lip-biting one, before she glanced away. Her eyes closed for a moment, took a small discreet breath, before returning to face me with a more relaxed expression. "I'm Sharra," she said while she offered me her hand. Her voice was steady now, all calmness on the surface, yet her finger trembled a little, betraying some strong undercurrents in her system. I took it, shook it as I gave her my name, and noticed with surprise that her hand was warm, without being moist or clammy as anxious encounters usually were. Shy, but brave in showing a casual front, yet not nervous. But I could sense her feet wanting to take her far away as fast as possible, while simultaneously sensing her nailing those feet to the floor; yet with a crowbar hidden behind her back in readiness to unplank the deck for a fast getaway. Her hidden struggles were endearing, and I would have loved to watch its uninfluenced conclusion, but gentleman duties called. My most charming smile slipped itself on my lips as I took a deep breath, tasting the cool air to clear my mind and then tried to make her relax. The first exchanges of small talk didn't work as well as could be hoped, not by her furtive eyes beneath her mask of calmness. I thanked her again for the almond and caramel drink, taking a sip to emphasise my point, as well as for joining me on this beautiful night, waving at the beauty before and above us. Her eyes took in the clouds chasing the stars to seduce them, the silence broken only by sounds brought by the unfelt breeze. She closed her lashes and some tension eased from her face, in particular from around her eyes. Shy Boldness, or Bold Shyness? She had stood far enough for me to glimpse at her feet without needing to move in the slightest, yet she had been too close for any subtle appreciation of her figure. But with her eyes now closed, and no conversation to occupy my mind, my vision indulged me as it did a quick roam before I could stop myself. I had already noticed that she was almost my height, yet not quite, as she needed to tilt her head upwards to look at me, therefore my curious eyes first saw her flat shoes. I realised that if she would stand on her toes, or wear heels, we would be eye levelled. Symbolic equals. Or lip levelled. Both held their own charm. Above footwear, those cream loose pants teased my sights, their wide cut hiding treasures I was certain. But clues were given in her slim ankles, in the way the fabric had hugged her legs when she had distributed her weight from foot onto the other. I envisioned smooth creamy thighs. Just fleshy enough to pillow your head, to nuzzle your cheek against, when you took a break from a Kitty French kiss, inviting you to settle yourself and enjoy for a few moments the splendid view of her chest rising and falling to her adorable laboured breathing, before continuing sensual discoveries. Further upwards, her straight white shoulderless blouse hid her waist. Waspish, hourglass, lush, or athletic, the delicacy was unfathomable. She defeated my imagination, aside from being slender yet not slim. My eyes climbed to view higher sights, to the straight fall of the snowy fabric which hid the bottom of curved performances, yet suggested small but exquisite breasts in its upper moulding, finishing the concealment of her twinned peaks her bra had begun. A lure. Her chest was nothing less than a splendid lure, and the bane of all sensible men and no few women I was sure. All this I saw in the time it took for me to draw a breath --which was now caught beneath my breast- while my pulse did a double-beat. My dimmed mind was betwixt a dazed dazzle and a stupefied stupor. I mean, between a dazed stupor and a stupefied dazzle. I mean, I was stupidazzled. I mean... Stunned. Her eyes opened and I shook my brain out of its wonderful shock, while I forced my lungs to work, and I told my heart not to work for both she and I. What expression was painted on my face, I had no idea. I hoped it didn't reveal how I had been undressing her. I bit the bullet. I expressed my honest gratitude for her being an even lovelier sight than the evening was. I was encouraged as those lips itched upwards. Flatterer, her eyes playfully chided me. This somehow led to swapping stories of our experiences tonight. We decided together that Long Hard Bad Feelings was on a par with trucking ducks, then we laughed at the holy glass. Unsurprising, all our encounters had one thing in common. "Is sex all they can talk about?" she asked with a wry smile, her amused exasperation shining across the gloss of her lips as she tilted her head towards the party. The movement swayed her bangs across her forehead, a wave of dark gold over the pearled starglow of her forehead. I fought the urge to brush that hair aside, to feel if its silky promise was true, if her skin beneath them was as smooth as it suggested. "I'm not a prude," she continued. "And I understand that Suzanne organises these evenings for that purpose. But... She swallowed so silently, I saw it more than I heard it. Then she continued softly, as if offering a sinful confession. "I'm here too ain't I? But I don't obsess over it..." I said nothing at first since I agreed yet disagreed with her. The subject had been somewhat a pain with the others before, true, but I found myself enchanted -and a little light headed- at the notion of discussing the same topic with this particular fine lady. I gave a mental shrug at my double standard. Guilty as charged. Mea culpa. "I guess it's not what we say, or even do; it is 'how' that counts." Her eyes gave narrowed amused accusations. "Meaning?" "Meaning for us to discuss it, or even perform it-" Her eyes rounded a little; more to the point her lashes had risen by a fraction thus giving the impression of having rounded. Damn, I had meant 'us' as 'all guests'. I hadn't intended planting that specific image of she and I, at least not now. So I hurried along. "...It's the method that matters, not just the content." It was too dark to interpret her wider pupils, but the air between us become taut, a magnetism at work to my senses. For a heartbeat, her tongue darted across her lips, moistening them, as her thumb caressed her glass. The subject was now upon the table, served as a laid temptation between us. Would she bite as I had unwittingly done? A very small smile appeared, just the corners of her coy lips wanting to rise beneath a light flush. She took a quick peek to look straight into my eyes, a flattered flash of her vibrant brown eyes beneath black lashes, then she returned her attentions to her glass. But that darted glance was straight away followed by the rise of her shoulders and chest, which descended under a slow exhalation through lips rounded in a very small circle, then was accompanied by a light shiver. She straightened in the slightest, her head giving a hard tilt to move her hair away from herself without quite throwing it backwards in a seductive way. If that gesture was meant as a tranquiliser, mission failed, I found it so seductive as I swallowed around a lump in my strangled throat. "Us? How?" she asked, with curious indifference, her disinterest piled a little too thick to be genuine. Slap on the wrist? Hidden interest? My knees lost a little strength when she added, "Performance wise I mean." "I mean," I started, and my voice was much steadier than it had any right to be due to my choked gorge. She had gamely taken a bite full and a half, so I had to rise to the challenge while chewing my words now. "That we can make love, have sex, or we can duck." She giggled despite herself, her head shaking in disbelief as she half-rolled her eyes. At my lame pun, or at herself for finding it funny, only God knew and the devil had a clue. She tried to regain some casualness, but those luscious lips were pleading --begging- to smile. A sensual ease between us was in her voice now, as she asked "isn't us making love, having sex, and trucking, one and the same?" "No." I smiled. Our similar bleaching of the most famous word while discussing intimacy, possibly and potentially an intimacy with each other, now gave my lips a fond if wicked twist. "All three are different." "Really?" This she stated more than asked. "Really. And they're not separated by gray areas either." To this she frowned. "Oh?" "No, because all three can be done at the same time." I sighed wantonly, closing my eyes as I imagined for the upthousanth time what I had only read. About and which I couldn't resist placing her with me in the image. My voice became the barest of murmurs. "And should that happens to us..." Perhaps it was due to the vision of us in my mind, or because my closed eyelids made me more sensitive, but the air changed again within the space separating us. From the strained and pulling of before, invisible sparks now flashed between us, their heat almost felt, the electricity raising the hairs of my arms. I heard her small gulp. Her hushed whisper. "If... If we do all three at the same time, then what?" Her quiver was back, in full force and carrying the tremble of fearful excitement, a breathless fascination riding within it. My heart stopped, and then galloped. My eyes cindered, felt as embers lighting the night as I looked deep within hers. "Then... it's magic." A tiniest of gasps. Glass slipped from her fingers. Her hands caught it, though with a splash of Amaretto onto her white blouse. "I'm sorry," she said. Her voice shivered, her eyes avoided mine, her glass trembled. "B-But I have to clean this up inside." Once again I was stunned, but at her speedy retreat as she left before I could even answer, even less offer to escort her. I jumpstarted the gray matter with a hard shake of my head, then I followed her steps inside, hoping to find her as I rejoined the partygoers. After a while, unsuccessful in locating her, the evening began to wound down with Sharra having vanished. Her stain added to her shyness, perhaps courage had lost over timidity and she had kept herself out of sight. No, she had scrambled so quickly, without the smallest display at wiping her blouse, that she must have provided herself an excuse to leave my company. And now she was avoided me. Had I scared off a bashful girl which possesed a skilled and passionate woman lurking beneath the surface? Or had she felt a fearsome pull, too strongly drawn, and had scared herself all on her own? (And thus left me blameless?) My ego voted for the latter. My better judgement settled on the former. Having pushed too far, too quickly, I had become the predator. Damn but I hated to think that I had disappointed her, scared her, infuriated her perhaps, by falling into tonight's sex trap like everybody else. Tired and disgusted at myself, I realised that half of the guests had gone to their rooms, and I decided to do the same. No, I decided to follow suit, and go stuff myself into a closet like one as penance. I didn't turn on the light as the obscurity suited my mood. The faint moon-glow from the draped window was too cheery. But as I undressed, with its implied promise of rest, weariness seeped into veins, chastising reflections having leeched my last energies, and movements slowed as guilt-tainted syrup replaced blood. Yeah, that bad. Now in the buff, I snorted at the notion of slipping on my pyjama bottoms, never mind unpacking them. I never saw the color of my pillow, excused by my laying on my back, but I never saw the ceiling either. I was out like a- No, lights are much slower. *** I woke to a roaring desire blasting through my veins. My heart drummed in my chest, my breath short, and a thin layer of sweat over my entire body. I took a steadying gulp of air as I sat up, moved at little backwards to rest my back against the headboard. My glance was attracted to between and over my thighs as a male twitch was seen and felt. My upright arousal was glistening in the silvery night colors and shades. Bits and pieces of an erotic fantasy, hazel eyes and an alluring figure being its focus, seeped back into my mind. A thrown sack of rock, made of humiliated misery, landed in the pit of my stomach as I realised why I had woken up in such a palpitated state. My teenager days of wet dreams were long past weren't they? I groaned as I brought my palms to my eyes. Sharra was a dream in herself, but still... I took another deep long breath, which came out as a sigh of despaired resignation, while I wondered where the tissues were to wipe the mess. A realisation struck my groggy mind as I caught a sexy odour, the figurative flick of a finger beneath my nose that drew me up short and woke me. I inhaled deeply, for the third time now, and relaxed as I savoured the scented wisps left by an aroused woman. Only then did I notice that the sheen covering my entire erection wasn't be semen. Saliva? I had to make sure and brought a sample to my tongue. No. That unique wonderful tang was liquid femininity, the true ambrosia of the- Whoah!?! Back up! Rewind! Reload the webpage! How the hell did she mount me without waking me? How slow did she go to tint my dreams yet not disturb them? And... Who? Who had indulged herself? I forced myself to fill my lungs to capacity, and rein in my galloping thoughts. I laced my fingers behind my head, excitement and awe dancing together on my lips, and laid back against the headboard as I drew a list of the adventurous ladies. I noted of my clear headedness -if still tired- thus eliminated the use of any knockout drugs. But I couldn't decide who the smooth criminal was. Not that I felt violated, despite that she had robbed me of a wonderful experience. Not to mention sinfully unprotected, since she left no only her fragrance in the room, but her essence on me. She was a daring one, a gambler, and my lips twisted in a crooked smile. I have taken some reckless risks myself in the past, few and far between, never in intimacy, but I still did take them. So I appreciated the low odds of the chance she had taken; not threatening yet still possessed the secret thrill of danger, of maybe landing us on the double zero. But who? Someone with guts, without a doubt. At this thought a defeated wishful sigh passed my lips as this eliminated my fantasy's focus, the divine Sharra. Since it was useless to venture on who I wanted it to be, I thus concentrated on who it could be. I sighed again but in determination, drawing strength from it. So, then, who's eye had I caught? Predator? Hardly. She would not have been so careful not to wake me. Someone else then. This was the third millennium, the balance shifting as women regained the power that was rightfully theirs, and perhaps I had met one of their scouts. I was now burning to know her name, her face, her eyes, her life. She fascinated me. But she could have been any of the women present tonight. I laid still for a timeless moment. Minutes? An hour? I don't know, but my ravenous curiosity began losing the battle against fatigue, my head nodding and hitting nails. My head snapped up with owlish blinks, jerked awake by my own small snore. I decided I better lie back down to sleep, puzzle this out tomorrow, when I heard a soft sigh of relief beneath me. Ah-ha. I waited for events to further unfold. I didn't want to startle my new friend -the smooth criminal hidden beneath the bed- before I knew who she was. In this semi-darkness, her anonymity required only a quick escape with her hands before her face. So I waited. But she was a patient one, more so than me, and after a good while I decided that she needed more encouragement. What had I done for her to sigh in relief? I had snored. So all I needed to do was to recreate the same sound in order to lure her into a false sense of safety. That was when I hit a snag. Have you ever tried to snore? Not in the classic cartoon way, but in accurately imitating yourself snoring? You can't know how you snore, not really, since you are asleep when it happens. But I still attempted it. Doubtless without success, but I banked that she never heard my night sounds any more than I did. I was rewarded by the swoosh of fabric sliding on the wooden floor. A head appeared, my breath caught as it threw its dark hair backwards with a scintillation of gold made by a single strand. She then stood with her back to me, a delicate bust silhouetted against the window, her figure hidden by her mid-thigh night shirt. But rising into its hem, legs made of dreams and hopes were revealed. The puzzle fell in place. She had been determined and brazen to attempt this, such as coming to me before I approached her. Yet shy and anxious to hide before discovery, trying to run away as she had already done before. This added to a patient touch to have gotten me so far without waking me, as patient as waiting for an opportunity to be alone together. The contradictions were tasty teases, her personality a unique spice. I fought against the irrational urge to kneel and ask for her hand. I reached out my own instead, palm's up in the universal gesture of invitation. "My Lady Sharra?" Three words. One heart offered. She gasped as she straightened, then whipped around on herself to look at me, the hem flirting higher than her thighs yet her shadow hid the most prized of sights. I heard her anxious swallow as her head tilted downwards, her eyes seeing my offered hand. She gulped this time, as she reached out, acknowledging my correct guess instead of running away. Fingertips brushed mine, hesitant, quivering in indecision. I pulled them closer, gentle in drawing her next to me, as I willed the small contact to radiate safety. I shifted myself for her to lie down and she followed my lead. Her legs stretched themselves next to mine, smooth skin feathering against mine. Her chest and mine pressed together, the soothing warmth of her body felt through her nightshirt. The fit was divine perfection, if her mood wasn't; she seemed puzzled by my offer of comfort, instead of the expected masculine carnal charge. Face to face, she settled her head a little lower into the cup of my welcoming shoulder, as her raised eyes searched my face. Either she dreaded being done to what she had just done to me, or she dreaded why I was disinterested in the appropriate male urgings; but dread was what shadowed her sights with silent questionings. From beneath her, I draped my arm around her, fingers sliding down against her arm in a slow seduction. The others brushed that hair from her forehead, to push aside her fears. Relief appeared in her wooden toned eyes as I sent her a mental message through mine. Yes, I desired her, but no, there was no rush. And those bangs hadn't lied, soft and silken; they were a caress to my fingertips. Without warning, words blurted from her lips. "I'm so sorry. I really don't know what came over me, but it just felt like if-" All this in the time it took for my hand to lower from her forehead to her lips and silence her with a finger. It could wait, we weren't going anywhere. I just wanted her within my arms, bury my nose in her hair, and continue to brush those bangs away from her forehead. "Tomorrow." The promise of her explanations, followed by my un-judgemental understanding, would happen when the sun rose. But only then. I just wanted to exist next to her for a while, and drink her presence. She gave a little happy sigh, at last at complete ease with me and snuggled deeper into my shoulder. She scooted herself further down, her shirt rising much above her waist in a tantalising sight. Sexes brushed, making her shiver while sending sparks up my spine. Our eyes locked, carnal questions wrapped in flames were exchanged, where wanting to exist beside her was transformed into requiring to share existence with her. I hooked my finger beneath her chin, tilted her head to me, to lay my lips onto hers. She was the fastest, as she snaked her arm over my shoulder, her hand on my nape both caressing and pulling me to her. I tasted almonds on her breath, savoured how sweetened her tongue was, as we danced between our cheeks. One moment she welcomed me into her mouth with a rising passion, the next she was charged with boundless naughty enthusiasm as I was greeted within my own mouth. I matched her fever, and stroked it higher with my own. My hand wandered to her exposed hip, her leg draping itself over mine to offer her thigh. I indulged the both of us with my fingertips on her skin, she indulged as well when her grip moulded my rear cheek. Our fingers trembled with urgency, yet our breaths were steady if shallow. My heartbeat unhurried but strong, as my ears pounded to the same rhythm. My fingertip brushed her neck, her slow pulse jumping against my skin. Our controlled excitement was almost like a tingling in the air, the calm before the storm. I lowered my lips, trailing down her throat. Her skin was salty, from her sweat of when she had bedded me while I slept. That evoked a charged image, so powerful that I shuddered and I was near the edge once again. This wouldn't do. I guessed that she had brought me very close, and that it was this nearness to ecstasy which had woken me. I tempted fate, again, as I tasted her in the hollow of her neck. With a small moaned sigh, her hand left my rear, travelled over my hip, began sliding down to my hardened passion. My hand stopped her. "Don't." My warning was deep throated, a little choked, and had to clear my voice for my coming damning confession. "I'm too close." Shy Boldness, or Bold Shyness? She giggled softly, a low sound of amused guilt, one which spread my lips back into a smile. Then her excitement hoarsened her voice. "I was a bad girl wasn't I?" "Very bad," I agreed, sounding husky to my own ears, while laying my lips against her eyelid in a butterfly kiss, then the other, to in the end chastise her with a playful tap on her nose with the tip of my own. "So what are you going to do ab- OW!" she laughed as I had slapped her romp, though creating more noise than pain. "That's what," I answered her unfinished question, then bent in two to kiss it better. But I caught that sweet, oh-so-sweet, smell of her damp desire. Too tantalising to resist, I breathed her scent to let its inebriating effect take hold of me for a moment. She tensed for a moment, and then lowered her leg, a caress against mine, as she settled herself on her back, her hips rising a little towards me. I couldn't refuse such an invitation. A break in tradition, I kissed her mound before all else beneath the neck. A quivering sigh flew out of her lips. I drew my mouth away, tongue washing my lips to better savour her, while I distanced myself from that tempting treasure. I saw her hairs glisten with feminine moisture, reflecting the faint moonlight. I knew the time was right, but not yet. Not yet. I climbed higher while tasting hips, waist, tummy, away from further temptations as I raised her nightshirt to my ascent. "Oh you damn tease," she whispered, a sweetened ache floating in her warm breath as I laid a trail of wet kisses everywhere. She squirmed, undecided if she wanted my ascent to her two-hills valley, or descend back to her secret dale. Her hands decided to push down on my shoulders with her exhalation of aroused anticipation and surrender. I hear and obey. Well, somewhat. I kissed her thigh. Her knee. I drew long wet lines just outside her outer lips, careful not to touch them, sending her into protesting squirms again. But I never tease without giving a little. I kissed that tender ticklish area between sex and anus, and then went up her engorged lips with mine, which coaxed a shudder of pleasure from her system. She whimpered as her fingers chastised me in their tightening in my hair. Her free knee rising and falling as her foot wandered on the bed in a slow, sensuous way. So I went for the other, un-serviced until now, waiting leg. "Come on," she breathed in a soft languid plea. "I wasn't too far either. This is driving me insane." I trail-kissed back to the V of her thighs, then hovered where her lips met, my breath revealing the maddening closeness. I lowered myself towards her, touchless still, while keeping my wind warm. She shuddered as I floated above her button, her grip on my hair showing her impatience at my presence being so close yet denied. Flicking it with my tongue, I indulged her in a mixture of sensations and emotions. She arched as she half-sat up with a gasp, my hair pulled, twisted, curled, by her fingers until she relaxed back down. Once more I licked, but applied a feathered touch, to let her clit caress the tip of my tongue. With a groan she raised her hips, her lips kissing mine as she pressed her sex to me, asking, demanding, commanding more from me. Unhurried, I pleased her. Attentive in how best to pleasure her. Nothing mattered but her. How to touch her. Her breath deepened, now a series of pleasured sighs as her foot slid against the sheets without pause. For every two rungs she rose in her sensual delight, a slow ascent towards bliss, I climbed one of my own in empathic pleasure. I applied a stronger, gentler pressure onto her tiny shaft, where finesse and fierceness met and ignited her. She gasped as her glazed eyes rounded in surprise. I repeated it, and with sensual disbelief she offered the shaky moan of "Oh mah God..." I engraved in my mind this preference of hers. My soul flashed a mental smile both crooked and tender as I rehearsed it many time to commit it to memory. Paradise was close at hand as her shallow breath became a hard wind, then a laboured panting. Her thighs vibrated against my cheeks, her stomach tightened as I felt her toes curl. A shiver hung on her breath, became a soft exhaled moan through her open lips at tasting heaven. I stopped for a sole heartbeat, letting her savour the power of the coming moment. I retasted her with the beat unbroken, having only skipped one beat, and she arched as her fiery climax washed over her senses, biting her lip not to cry out. I slipped twinned fingers within her, a small cry escaping her lips as her heated sheen eased her welcome of me. Fingertips searched her upper wall, her private muscles squeezing in the echoes of her orgasm, and found that hidden as well as elusive tiny mound of ecstasy nerves. I circled it firmly while coming back and forth between her lips as well, and I felt her going limp, dissolving, as if her sense of being was flowing outside of herself. I continued this as I resumed delivering licking ecstasy. Her face went to the left. To the right. Her head then flew in every direction in a wild cloud of hair. Every limb shuddered, her fingers squeezed the sheet in a death grip and her toes curled, all in answer to her body's liquefying fusion of itself again. She sank into the bed in a crash, plummeted from her visit in the clouds. I straightened back up, a warm glow inside me, drawing her into my arms once more with tender care. But she playfully growled, "Oh no you don't!!" My eyebrows disappeared into my hairline at the power contained in that voice, that amused aggressiveness catching my breath. "It's your turn to suffer, you damn tease!!" She twisted herself out of my embrace and just saddled herself onto me. No muss, no fuss, yet no detachment either as her face softened as my silken head rested in the crease of her smooth lips. She winked, the slowest most sensual lowering of an eyelid possible, added to the sauciest of smiles. I melted from within as my spine became a pool of helplessness. She hung there, unmoving, her breath quickening, to my rounded tip nuzzled into her valley. She sank the width of a finger and stopped, her mouth wording a slow if silent monologue of pleasure to her sweetened torture against her own eagerness. "You like it slow I see," I noted with breathless wickedness tinted by a cringe of oversensitivity. Another barest of drops within her tropical cleavage, sharpening the fever. Oh, the haloed devil. The horny angel. The- As she lowered herself oh-so-slowly, killing me with her lips, I heard her whisper, a corrupt wisp of innocence clouding her voice. "Let's just say that you've whet my appetite for it." Classic whet or naughty wet? Passionate truth or sexy pun? With that guileless guilt in her tones, I couldn't tell. Drunk on her wink-and-smile, added to her murderous pace, I couldn't think. Couldn't decide. Yet I needed to know. I took her face into my hand, to search it for clues. Instead I fell deep into her hazel eyes, circled by a thin chocolaty line, with wide black pools in their centers. Bashful boldness, coy courage, and timid temerity shined from within them, while I sensed that they beat beneath her breast as well. I knew then, there, that I would forever wonder; only knowing that her halo was slanted onto her supportive horns. Overused image, perhaps, yet still a true one in this instance. Such as in how heavenly devilicious she sinned to bring me closer to paradise. I was hers then, wholly and completely, she had only to ask. She blinked, her eyebrows rising in surrender as her eyes became unguarded, defenceless, while she stared into mine. She didn't ask, she offered herself instead. I rose my hips, respecting her ongoing slow descent with my unhurried ascent. We watched each other while I slipped within her and she slid around me in tandem pleasure. We dissolved, melted as well as melded, both in spirit and body. I kissed her as we met halfway, me filling her, she blanketing me. For a split second I wondered if we were about to make love, to have sex, or fuck. All three were fine, in all honesty, I was just vaguely curious. But then, on the heels of that thought, she slanted my halo to mirror hers and we achieved the impossible... On our first night together, in harmony, we made magic. The end. ----------------------- Author's note. I am unsure myself whether Sharra was a bold person turned shy under her strong attraction to him, or if she was a shy individual made bold by lust and love... *Slow Wink* It's to your preference then, isn't it? So please vote, but also post a comment below as to whether her slanted halo was due to a shy boldness or to an emboldened shyness.