Shy Boldness Or Bold Shyness

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.

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The slanted halo, shy boldness or bold shyness

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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.