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Later at that party, after her dancing was over, she went looking for her next father confessor. She wore a tight little dress that on any other woman would have screamed whore..but on her served as the bow to an expensive present. She prowled the rooms looking for her saviour, not knowing yet who it was, but trusting her instinct to find him when she saw him.
Graciously evading the pick up lines of the men who bored her with their interest, she watched the edges of the room, the margins where the dark things hide, and saw him.
He was tucked into a corner, but as a watcher, not a hider. Older, slim, bald, wearing glasses and dressed casually but smartly. His body language was relaxed, yet carried a nervous energy, as if he would suddenly decide he had seen enough, get up and walk out. No one sat near him, yet he filled his space with just being.
She felt her interest piqued, and sauntered over, watching him notice and track her with his eyes. She saw his soft smile as she walked towards him, and felt herself being assessed, judged, and yet accepted.
"May I?" she asked boldly, indicating a space that was further into the corner. Her first rule was always to take the initiative, to see how far she could seize control.
"He smiled, stood up and beckoned her into the place she had indicated."
She liked his height, 6 foot, matching her 5 ft 8, lifted that night with 4 inch heels which in turn made her exquisite legs that much more devastating.
He waved a waiter over and ordered drinks for them both, a cocktail for her, a scotch for him,and then turned to her.
"Your dancing was really the most impressive performance I have ever seen."
His English accent was educated, clear, but not with a particular accent. His voice invited you to listen, and to respond, gentle, but with an edge waiting to command where necessary.
"Thank you," Raven smiled her winning smile, "though I don
't remember seeing you paying me for the pleasure."
Just a little bitch to test his mettle, to see if he was worth her supplication.
He smiled as if at a private joke.
"And I'm amazed that you remember one less honey bee clustered around your flower. To be honest, though, I was only watching from afar, I've never been fond of rugby scrums. However, I would be more than happy to show my appreciation in more concrete ways later if you wish."
As a chat up line it wasn't bad, and he wasn't cocky. Maybe this man was the type she was looking for.
"Well, " And Raven leaned forward and almost whispered into his ear, "I am certainly very open to the idea of being appreciated in any way you choose tonight"
He turned his face to her, his lips only inches away from hers and almost laughed.
"And you really think it's that easy? Granted, you are an exceedingly attractive young woman, and by far the sexiest here tonight. But I don't think you are quite ready to leave with me just yet."
Raven sat back, slightly startled. This wasn't right, he was changing the rules. Even as she offered herself, she normally still had a hand on the leash, and yet he had pretty much put her back in her place.
She was starting to like him, he was more of a challenge than she had expected.
"Let me tell you something about yourself. And then, after you have heard me out, you can decide whether you still want to leave with me. The choice will be yours, but what happens afterwards will be determined by me. Do we have a deal?"
Raven arched a perfect eyebrow and smiled back.
"Certainly sir. I will listen, and then decide if I want you to take charge of me tonight"
And even as she said it, her sex tingled a little at the thought of what he might say, or propose. There was something restrained, something dark and intense about him, as if, like her, he wore a public persona as a wolf wears fleece, to walk more freely among the unaware.
At that point, the waiter arrived, and deftly placed coasters and drinks in front of them, and slipped away as silently as he had arrived.
"You are at war with yourself."
He paused, measuring his words, and Raven sat, startled by this brusque assessment.
"You are deeply sexual, incredibly attractive, and you delight in it. You could beckon your finger and have almost any man in the room at your service, and yet you choose not to. Having flaunted yourself and excited the lust of almost every male in the room, (and I do include at least half the gays here), you then come and sit with one of the few men who hasn't been drooling over you half the night."
He paused, and sipped his scotch, his eyes still fixed intently on her as if inspecting a rare butterfly or fresh cut gemstone.
