SHADES OF SEDUCTION: 2

AFTER

"Thank you for coming." He finally said, breaking the silence that ensued between us. 

I wanted to hear him say my name. I wanted him to call my name with that calmness, and that reverence that turned my whole body into pores of desire.

But I could not request for it, for something I longed for the most I could not request for. It was the most deadly of all sins, a sin suppressed.

"I wasn't busy." I replied. I sat back so my back was on the chair and my hands on the table the way a company's boss sits to watch him employee.

It was an intimidating stance but the way I saw it I had two chances, to let him intimidate me or to intimidate him. I had to stick to the latter, this was my game and I couldn't afford to lose sight of the goal or to lose sight of the master. I was the master and he, he was a willing follower. It had to remain that way.

"Still I'm glad you came." He stammered. He shyly looked down at his fingers that he had so subtly now placed on the table.

It was so sweet when he was shy like this although I have to admit that sometimes it could be very annoying.

It was a replacement of heroes and Knight's in shining armor. He was this little kid, so soft, so shy, so emotional he was nothing like the kind of men that were fancied for romance novels, the strong, arrogant confident heroes. 

There was nothing about him that matched those heroes descriptions, neither was there anything about him that matched the kind of men I had fancied before him.

The ones that knew how to bring me to my knees with just a little sigh or how to make me beg with a little tug from the teeth. He was everything that they were not, everything that I didn't find attractive. So why was he different? Maybe because he was a forbidden fruit. A fruit I was warned not to touch, but a fruit I was so going to touch.

"So what will you have?" He  asked, still refusing to look up at me. I frowned at this, I didn't appreciate that he wanted us to spend the whole diner like this, enveloped in his shyness. But I was not going to force him to look up at me neither was I going to ask him to.

"Juice." 

"The waiter will get it." And as if on cue a male waiter looked to my direction and I gave him a signal to come over to our seat. 

He strolled to us immediately, "Get me a cold Chivita." I ordered. He nodded locking eyes with me before looking away.

I turned back to Harry and watched him while he continued to watch his hands like a scared chicken. I took in a deep breath, it still wasn't calming enough.

I soon felt like I would lose my mind if we continued in this silence and thick tension. I just had to speak up.

"Harry look up. Look at me." I blurted out. I was getting very very impatient. He was so startled at first he jerked but he did look up at me. I took in a deep breathe again. "Why am I here if you won't talk to me? Why did you invite me?"

"I wanted to see you and_but" He started then he shook his head as if deciding that what he was about to say made no sense. "I am sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" I scoffed. 

I pulled my eyes away from the painting on the table that I had been focussed on the whole time_ as if it was a new specimen before me and I a scientist.

I think maybe I was shy to look at him too, but God forbid that I would ever be shy over a man.

I am a confident woman or at least that's what I told myself.

As if to prove this I looked straight into his eyes covered with rimmed glasses, which hid underneath it the undeniable beauty of his green eyes.

The beauty of his eyes were quite unexplainable. I didn't get why he chose to hide them. Well on a second thought it was not as if he had much of a choice considering that the glasses were meant to help him see well.

He smiled, shyly averting his gaze. He looked down at his fingers placed on the table and I smiled too because his smile was contagious. When he started getting shy before me it tugged at my heart, it was always so cute to watch him try to hide his gaze from me.

Even with his eyes down I could tell he was staring at me from beneath his glasses in the most subtle way he could, but it wasn't subtle enough for me not to notice.

"You should stop staring at me like that you know. I'm not a painting." I grinned, wriggling my brows playfully. He was taken aback seemingly because he was caught in the act. He actually thought I won't notice him staring. How naive.

You weren't subtle enough I wanted to say but I thought against it.

"Yet." He whispered under his breath. Then he cleared his throat and took a sip from his cup. 

I knew I wasn't meant to hear him, but I did. But then again maybe he was conflicted. A feeling of ambivalence. Maybe he hadn't decided if he wanted to say it or didn't want to but the heart was more powerful than the mind. 

Maybe he wanted me to hear it even. Who can tell? 

"What does that mean?" I asked faking oblivion. Of course I knew what he meant I wasn't stupid but then it was too good to be true and just like they say I wanted to hear it from the horses mouth.

"I want to paint you." He paused looking up. "I would have made a sculpture of you but you are already a piece of art."