Bengali Tigress

This is a story of an erotic encounter that turns into romance.

There are some twists along the way before the confrontational conclusion.

There is a fair amount of sex in this, a lot of sensual foreplay, and many other moments of pleasure.

I would like to give a big thanks to fellow author norafares, as she provided the inspiration for the female character, advised on the Bengali aspects, and line edited the final version.

I really appreciate comments, as they confirm, or add perspective to, my awareness of what this audience appreciates, or dislikes.

However, pedantic nit-picking comments that do not comment on the storyline will be deleted.

BENGALI TIGRESS

"God, is my boss ever going to Shut UP?"

"Come on Nick, look at those tits! Don't you just want to motorboat those beauties? [burp] Never seen 'em that big in Singapore before, ya know! Maybe I should try to get a quick bounce with that one before I head out for that damn redeye flight in... shit, is this watch working ...an hour and a half?"

"I hate it when Mr. Hayward drinks and talks about women like this, like they're... What? ...toys for his express enjoyment?

You jerk, Martin, their beautiful creatures, and to be appreciated as such."

Trying to keep the disgust off of my face, I answered, "Hey Martin, they said they'd pick you up at 10:20, and that's only an hour and 5 minutes from now. Don't you think... like, maybe ...you ought to slow down on those martinis?"

"Hah! Nick, boy, you and I did it! Closed that Manjur International deal. Fuckers never knew what hit 'em!"

"Geez... I hope nobody in this bar heard that!

We wouldn't want that to get back to Manjur."

Hiding my frustration, I smiled, "Yeah, and you get to leave tonight. I'm still here for another week to work out the final specs for that double-redundant system you sold them."

"Shit!" he grinned, "You get to chase all this cute ass for a week! If you'd just workout, buff up, Nick, you'd have 'em crawling at your feet. You're a good lookin' guy, ya know?"

"Not this again, Martin... Please?

I don't want to be a male model or the living embodiment of a Romance cover for some dreamy-eyed schoolgirl!

I've told you, physical appearance isn't enough for me.

I want a woman with intelligence, character, charm... and sensuality.

That's if you haven't scared them all off, you loudmouth!"

"Me?" Martin had continued as those thoughts of mine had rolled on, "I have to go back to the PC land of [burp] headquarters, where Cheryl... do you know Cheryl?"

I shook my head, resigned to another onslaught of verbal testosterone.

"Cheryl is the VP of marketing's secretary. Best tits in the whole damn company and she knows it, the cock teasing pussy."

"Give me a break, Martin!

Tits, ass, pussy.

I can't... even think of women in those terms."

"So Nick, can I go up to her and tell her what I wanna do with her super hooters? Fuck no. PC shit. 'Nice day Cheryl. Good to see you, Cheryl.' Not even a 'The girls are looking fine today, Cheryl'. Damn 'political correctness'. Takes all the fun out of flirting."

"What about their exquisite curves, Martin?

Their mesmerizing eyes, delightful smiles, or haunting voices?

Does that ever enter your caveman brain?"

This time my sigh was audible. "So, you talk to Michelle and the kids recently?"

"Phhhfff..." Martin exhaled through his closed lips. "Bitch will only let me have 'em for one afternoon, next weekend. I'm their goddam father, Nick, [burp, choke] and I [cough] get 'em for two afternoons a month. And even that little bit cost me big, cuz of her weasel lawyer. They'll be going to college soon, and then I'll never see 'em!"

"God, he has got to be a helluva liability for our company.

If his real mouth ever got going in front of clients... Poof!

This objectifying pig Would fly!

If he wasn't such a damn good closer, I'd ask to be somebody else's sales engineer, in a flash."

I clenched my lips to get my words under control, "Okay, Martin... you ready for your shuttle in... uh... 55 minutes?"

"Shit... Suppose I better go pack. Ha!"

I was so thankful when he stood, but my luck didn't hold.

"Hey, Nicky boy!" Look at that one! Not one of those local chinky pieces of ass!"

"Martin!" I barked, louder than I intended. "

Please...

keep your voice down, if you going to insult people!" I hissed.

"Ha! Nicky boy has a voice! Good for you!" Then he lecherously winked. "I'm gonna see if I can fit

that

one into my suitcase."

I watched him weave after the admittedly beautiful woman, at least from my view of her backside. Not tall, satiny gold two piece with a skirt. Her bare midriff displayed an impressively small waist.

"Lovely shape!"

Her dark, slightly ruffled hair wandered down to just short of that bare skin.

Her reflective gold spike heels carried her to a tall bar chair. Martin was closing in. I watched from my booth, with her at the far end of the bar from where I sat.

Facing forward, she set her gold clutch purse on the counter, both hands calmly resting on top of it. She had exotic tapering almond-shaped eyes on a lovely square-shaped face with a mildly pointed chin. Martin moved in beside her, leaning forward to try to look back at her face. I cringed for her. Her eyes swung to look at him, while the rest of her face didn't move. As I only saw the back/top of his head, I assumed Martin was grinning at her, but her mouth gave up only a taut, amused smirk.

I expected Martin was talking from the way his head shifted about and then I saw him wave two fingers at the bartender. She quickly waved off the order, wagging one rather small finger, and then her eyes swiveled back to Martin. She said no more than a few words, and Martin slightly backed away. His head shifted around again, and I saw her eyes take on an icy glare. The smirk remained but was no longer amused.

I became a bit anxious when she paused. Then it looked like she said two words, with no obvious anger. Martin stood up, slowly. Her appealing eyes softened and returned to center. Martin said something, and walked away. Her smirk was now 'contented'.

She was a cool cat if she could snuff Martin that easily, and therefore, I was intrigued.

Martin returned to our booth, but stayed standing. "She's one fine piece, Nicky! But she could star in

Frozen

... BRRrrr! Sure if I had more time, I could thaw her out and get her in the sack. But, hey, her loss! Anyway, don't fuck up the Manjur deal, when I'm gone!"

"Geez, Martin! You know I'm not..."

"I know, I know. Got complete faith in ya kid. Ya haven't let us down yet... Just don't start here, okay? Gotta fly. Hah!"

"Have a good flight." My relief could begin, now.

With a sloppy pat on my shoulder, he began what would be a nearly linear path to the hotel bar's exit. I watched the exit for nearly five seconds to make sure he was gone. Then I took a deep breath and leaned back in the booth, as I sipped on my whiskey sour.

"Alright Nicholas, you've got a lot to do at Manjur's computer center on Monday, so you've only got tomorrow to get your brain in gear.

That second backup Martin just added to the order is going to be a bitch, since I didn't check for space for a second backup cooling system when we were there.

I think they'll both fit, but man, am I ever crossing my fingers!"

My eyes wandered in thought, but my brain fell out of engineering mode instantly when I saw her eyes looking at me. Her smirk curled up a little, as her eyes went down, and then came back up to examine the wall of liquor bottles behind the bar. I watched as she brought the straw of her tall, dark drink up and slowly wrapped those reddened lips around it.

"Can't remember when I've seen someone smirk while drinking through a straw?"

My mind didn't know what to make of this attractive, inscrutable woman. There was the vaguest familiarity in her looks, but I couldn't think of who she reminded me of. Sifting through memories of actresses, friends, and family turned up nothing. I supposed it might come back to me before she left the bar. But I didn't want her to leave, since I was enjoying the puzzle of studying what kind of person she must be.

I knew I sure didn't have any clever opening lines that were worthy of her, if not simply way too cliché. My repertoire of snappy remarks was quite limited. That's if my voice didn't bobble when I tried to break the ice. Some beautiful women left me cold, as they were so wrapped up in being the center of attention. I liked beautiful women on the other end of the spectrum: Ones who found their looks a happy stroke of luck, but seemed like they would be the same person regardless of whether their looks got attention.

I could only wonder where Martin's "Ice Queen" fell on this scale, if she even fit into it. She certainly dressed to please the eye, yet nothing was flirtatious. I hadn't seen her talk to anyone besides Martin and the bartender. What was her interest in being here? She didn't look sad or lonely, as her eyes prowled the bar. She seemed to study everything.

Then her eyes again landed on me. This time there was the briefest pause, before her eyes continued. It was a moment longer than I had seen her look at anyone else.

I wanted to contemplate that pause, but dinner, lots of water, and a couple drinks were making their presence known. I asked the waitress where the restrooms were. She pointed to the far end of the bar, right behind my puzzle of a woman.

I put my cocktail napkin over my drink and then headed off. The briefest of glimpses of her came from between other patrons at the crowded bar counter as I walked along. I thought I saw her eyes turned my way. As I approached her, I couldn't see her face. After I passed by her, I nearly got my face flattened by the bathroom door when a rushing customer came out. Payment for the luck of that near-miss was a rather sore toe.

When I came out, she was talking to the female bartender. Over the background noise, I wasn't sure if she was whispering, or just had a very soft voice. I slowed for step or two, and the only word, of the few I heard, seemed to be "bikini." That brought a pleasant image of the curves of her small waist in a gold bikini, as I walked back to my booth.

I sat there, finishing the small amount of my drink that was left. I flagged the waitress and ordered what had to be my last whiskey sour. It was more than I should drink, but I still wanted to watch the "Ice Queen," as I was far from figuring her out.

My drink arrived, along with the bar bill, and I stared into my drink, and berated myself.

"Just go up and talk to her, for Christ's sake.

Even if she bites my head off, I'd get to hear more of her voice.

And maybe... see a little more expression in her pretty face.

That'd sure give me something to plug into my fantasy tonight.

Yeah, my fantasy.

Someday I'm going to act on this fantasy, and throw every sensual thing I can at a woman.

Someday."

I glanced up at her, and she was occupied with stirring her drink with her straw.

"But what if she actually talks to me for a while?

Think of all the pieces I would have for my fantasy?

It could be loaded with her face, maybe a smile or a laugh.

And I would get to look into those mysterious eyes, and hear a lot more of that voice.

Isn't that worth fighting these nerves?

My shyness is not going away unless I challenge it.

Come on! Get on your feet and move, Nick!

Do It... NOW!"

I sucked in the biggest breath of courage I could find and brought my eyes up to look at her.

"Great!

She's talking to another man.

"Too slow, Nick... again."

I watched the exchange between them, which turned out to be brief. Him, something. Her, a couple of words. Him, something with a grin. She shakes her head. He still grins. She glares. He leaves.

My eyes dropped to look at some woman's red shoes.

"The Ice Queen'll shoot me down even faster than that.

I'm no lady's man! ...Try, just try, you idiot!"

I looked back up... and sagged. She was paying her bill, and I noted she was doing it with an American Express Black Card.

"The lady has lots of money at her disposal.

That means she lives in different world from me!"

She slid the receipt and pen across the bar, said a couple of words to the bartender, and then turned on her tall bar chair. Then she paused.

Looking through the corner of her eyes, she looked at me and slowly blinked. Very slowly blinked. My shocked brain could only think,

"What... Wait a minute! ...Isn't that what our family cat did to me when I was growing up?

Wink slowly and then... approach me?"

She was coming down along the bar, heading towards the exit. I stood up, watching her.

"Think fast, you idiot!

Whatever happens, just don't choke."

I took a step forward. So did some other big, well-dressed guy... right into her path. She and I both paused, me by my booth and her confronted by Mr. "Sharp Looking Man." She shook her head and tried to step around him. His forearm came out to make her stop. She did. My heart was in overdrive, and I felt its pulses in the back of my neck.

That's when her eyes turned to me, and she blinked. I started walking towards her, hoping that is what that blink meant. A moment later, she extended her hand to me, around the SLM's arm, which he then withdrew. "Excuse us" I said, as I took her small fingers into my hand.

"Here we go, Nick...the big leagues."

As I led her back to my booth, she spoke, and her soft, quiet voice surprised me, "Were you just going to let me walk out?"

"Was that a hint of humor I heard... I sure hope so.

She's challenged me!

Stand your ground, Nick.

This is it."

"I'll admit," I said, trying to keep my thoughts ahead of my mouth, "I didn't expect competition."

"Him? Not a chance." Her voice carried a distinct accent, but it did not make her hard to understand. Finishing her sentence, she resumed a mildly pleased smirk, and kept her eyes on mine. I looked back at those lovely dark eyes, and was trying to imagine the depth of personality that hid behind them. And that voice was so quiet. I wondered if it was natural, or maybe a learned behavior from a country where women were not supposed to speak up.

"Is this normally how you introduce yourself... with silence?"

"Sorry! I was lost in thought there for a moment. I'm Nicholas Tanner, from California." She politely shook my hand, and the contact confirmed the smoothness of her fingers.

"Is Nick acceptable?"

"Perfectly," I said, "And your accent is intriguing."

"As is yours." Her pleased smirk curled at the corners.

My tension got to me, and I laughed, briefly.

"A delightful laugh. You may call me

Baghini

. I live here, but I am from Bangladesh."

"How interesting!" I said, smiling, while I realized the earlier "bikini" I heard was probably

"Baghini,

" "I spent a few days in Dhaka about a month ago, on business."

"Yes, Dhaka is our capital and my birthplace. Was it only business?"

"I did get in a half-day tour, sort of. They dropped us at a number of locations, and then picked us up again. I did see such places as the National Museum, Lalbagh Fort, and... is it Asson Manzi?"

"Ahsan Manzil, and does Archeology interest you?"

"Casually, but I always find it so... almost strange... to be in a place with things that are over 1,000 years old, when 'old' in America is 200 years. Quite a perspective."

Her smirk had softened into a contented style, and I began to think of it as a normal feature of her face, to always appear to be smirking. I found the smirk rather endearing, and found her rather easy to talk to.

"Yes, I have that same feeling. Bangladesh is young as its own country, not quite 50 years old, yet. But the Bengali and our origins are thousands of years old."

I nodded, and then thought to ask, "Is there a shorter name I can use for you, than

Baghini

? Maybe Bagha?"

Her smirk curled again, and she shook her head, "The word

'bagha'

means 'Tiger," ...and I am not male."

"No. You are quite obviously not! Is there a meaning for

Baghini

then?"

"Tigress."

"Really? And your parents named you that?"

"No," she said, and her eyes narrowed, "It is the name I chose for myself."

"Interesting.

But, I wonder why she chose that name?... Oh! Drinks."

"I'm sorry," I said abruptly, "I forgot to ask if you would like something to drink."

She shook her head, and then offered, "I don't think I want to take time for that."

"That's... disappointing. I was enjoying your company and hoping to get to know you."

"And I," she said, her voice even quieter, "...like you, Nick. And would like to know you better, too."

"Wonderful," I said, as I questioned quite what direction I should take after that encouraging response. "Then, would you like..."

"Your room," she interrupted. "I assume you are staying in this hotel?"

I'm sure the surprise showed on my face, even though I was trying to retain a calm appearance... like this happened to me all the time.

"I feel like I should say something clever and manly right now?"

The smirk curled higher, creating rounding cheeks. "'Yes' is quite enough. May we go?"

"Uh...Yes!" I quickly wrote my hotel room number and signed the receipt, then stood. I offered her my hand. She raised her arm and took my hand, and then stood. In heels, she was almost the same height as me.

I led her out and to the elevators, the whole time wondering

"How do you make love to a Tigress?"

I motioned her in and pushed the button for the 35

th

floor, where the company had put me.

Baghini

leaned against the side of the glass-walled elevator, with that so quiet voice saying, "I do not like arrogance or large egos in men."

I smiled. "Is this some Bengali tradition I have not heard of? That women approach the men, for..."

"Sex?" she finished, not waiting for me to find a more polite term. "Anything, but. It is one reason I am no longer residing in Bangladesh."

She clasped her purse behind her, with both hands, and slowly walked towards me. Those eyes did not blink as they focused on my eyes. "Such sexual freedom is completely at odds with my culture. So, I am here, where I can be the

Baghini

."

"Am I the prey?" I asked, with a grin, but feeling only half the humor of that remark.

"Oh, yes," she said, her voice seeming to whisper, though it was hard to be sure with her quiet voice.

"What is 'being the prey' supposed to be like?

Am I her fantasy?

Might she be mine?

Do I let her control the evening, or does she expect me to take over?"

"You are quiet," she cooed. "Do I scare you?"

"Honestly, a little."

"Good" she cooed back.

The elevator came to a halt with our eyes locked.

"Tigress?" I gestured for her to exit. Then I passed her and led her a few doors down to my room. I went to put the room card in the slot, but she came around and stood in front of me. I paused with a curious smile.