Ride the Tiger

It all began when two of my friends, one married and one engaged, decided it was time for me to find a man.

"All you ever do is work. You need to have a little fun. Get out there and get some nookie!" they chided. I rolled my eyes but couldn't keep from chuckling a little. I did work a lot and it didn't leave much time for socializing, much less chasing men. My friends' solution was well meaning even if it was a little simplistic. They just wanted me to be happy so when they decided to set me up a profile on a dating site I agreed to go along with it. As my friends happily conspired about what to write and which photos of me to add I had to grudgingly admit to myself that maybe my life had fallen into a bit of a rut. Frankly I didn't expect much to happen but maybe I did need a little excitement. I thought I would perhaps just see what happened. My friends knew my hesitant nature though and once they had completed my profile to their satisfaction they elicited a promise from me to pick a man to go on a date with within a month. I wondered what I had gotten myself into but I was determined to see things through. I never go back on my word, and that would have been reason enough, but I was also curious.

I was surprised to find several interested parties when I logged on the next day and with each day there were more. There were so many different types to sort through. I immediately rejected the virtual advances of old and really young men, men in different states, men who had a cat in every profile picture, men who couldn't spell or put together a sentence decently, really short guys, guys who looked like creepers and anyone dressed like a thug. I chatted briefly with the few who made it through the initial cut to determine if there might be some compatibility there. None really seemed to click. It wasn't until I only had two weeks left to keep my promise that I found him. Or rather he found me.

I logged on after work that day and found a new message. As usual I first went to his profile to see if he made the first cut and he passed with flying colors. He was my age, just a little taller than me, in a town close by, his profile was well written and interesting, and none of his photos had cats in them. He didn't look like a creeper either. He was, in fact, well dressed and handsome. His profile did not say where he was from but his light brown skin and facial structure suggested some south Asian heritage. I read his message and found it charming and amusing. He had a sense of humor. I immediately replied. Over the next few days we wrote back and forth and decided to meet each other.

We decided to meet at the local brewery, a place with a comfortable atmosphere, good food, and most importantly, excellent beer. I was terribly nervous as I got ready. My philosophy has always been that a man should like a woman for who she is. I had informed him that I would be meeting him looking like I do every day. I wanted his first impression to be based on the real me and not the grand illusion women can sometimes make of themselves. Still I wondered if the real me would be enough for him. I'm 5'11" tall with long legs, curvy hips, and nice C cup breasts. I have waist length reddish brown hair and hazel eyes set in a well proportioned, oval shaped face. I chose a pair of form fitting jeans that flattered my ass, my skater shoes and a black t-shirt with a band logo on it. I brushed my hair out and kept it down and left on the glasses I usually wear during the day. I snapped my wallet chain on, grabbed my phone, checked myself one last time in the mirror and headed for the door. Yeah, I looked a little punk but that is how I usually look. He could take it or leave it. At the very least I would have kept my word and gone on the requisite date.

Just as I pulled into the parking lot I got a text from him saying he would be waiting for me at the door. I took a few calming breaths and walked towards the restaurant. Sure enough he was there. The pictures on his profile had not prepared me for what he really looked like in person and for a moment my brain stopped functioning as it tried to take everything in. Fortunately I have had polite manners very thoroughly instilled in me and they worked in lieu of my brain as I approached him and introduced myself.

"Hi, I'm Eve. You must be Puli. Did I say that right?" I asked as I extended my hand.

He smiled and nodded as he shook it, "Yes, you did. Its good to meet you Eve. Shall we go inside?" He had a nice voice with an accent I couldn't quite place. I smiled back and nodded. He walked ahead to open the door for me and then followed me into the restaurant. The hostess said there would be a short wait and that we could head to the bar area until our table was ready if we wanted. It seemed like a better idea then just sitting on a bench so we drifted in that direction and ordered ourselves some beer. We began to talk as we stood sipping our beer and I got a better chance to look at him up close. He was just a bit taller than me, perhaps 6' even. He had a generally lean build but was not skinny and his shoulders were wide and built for power but were not overly bulky. His face was more round than mine, his nose was wider, he had beautifully sculpted plump lips and shiny black hair cut short and carefully gelled. His eyes, fringed by long lashes, were a deep, warm brown and his skin was a very lovely shade of mocha. It seemed very different from my own porcelain paleness. He wore dark jeans, leather shoes, and a button up shirt. He looked incredible.

I asked what he did for a living.

"I am an engineer," he said. "I came to America five years ago to earn my Masters degree in electrical engineering. I went to school in Texas and after I graduated I eventually found a job here designing things like power substations for the local utility company."

I was impressed. He was obviously a very intelligent man, a fact which I very much appreciated. I asked him a few more questions about his job to keep him talking a bit. His mentioning coming to America confirmed that he was not, in fact, born here but I still couldn't quite identify his accent. His English was perfectly spoken, not in the stiff technical way in which some foreigners speak it, but with American vernacular and sentence structure. His accent was smooth, almost British but not quite.

"What do you do?" he asked.

"I'm a research tech with a local pharmaceutical company. I see a lot of tissue samples and do a ton of data analysis. I got my degree in Biology so its a job that fits me well," I replied. His eyes widened just a bit and he nodded appreciatively. He asked a few more questions about my job, just as I had asked about his. Before we knew it the hostess informed us that our table was ready. We each finished our beer as we looked over the menu and discussed what looked good. The waitress took our order and quickly returned with fresh beer, leaving us to talk as our food was prepared.

I still could not place his accent. I was going to have to ask. "You said you came to America five years ago. Where did you grow up?" my curiosity begged. He smiled.

"I'm from Suryapet. It's a city of about 100,000 people in south central India." That explained the British influence in his accent. He did not sound like one would expect a stereotypical Indian would sound though. His accent was much more posh. I found it to be very charming. I smiled back at him.

We talked about a number of things as we waited for our food. We continued to talk as we ate and when we had finished our meal we ordered more beer and kept talking. We discussed our taste in movies and found that we had similar taste in music. He spoke of his childhood in an Indian city and I told him about growing up on a farm in a county with only one stoplight. He was smart and charming and funny. We drank our beer and talked and laughed. I was having a great time and it was 1:30 and closing time before we knew it. He offered to walk me to my car. We chatted as we walked, neither of us really wanting the night to end yet. When we reached my car he turned to face me.

"I've had a really good time with you tonight. I would like to see you again. Is it ok if I call you?" he asked.

I looked at him standing two feet away from me. There was a very handsome, articulate, fun, gentleman asking if I wanted to see him again.

"Of course," I replied. I would have been an idiot not to. He gave me a huge smile, drawing my attention to those perfect lips, making my breath catch a little. I thought about the onions that had been on my burger.

"May I have a hug before I go?" he asked.

I nodded and closed the distance between us. His arms wrapped around me and my face found the crook of his neck. His cologne was subtle. I hadn't realized until just then but he smelled amazing and with my arms around him I could feel the contours of the muscles in his back. I was suddenly very aware of the way our bodies were touching. One of his hands came up to skim the back of my head, feeling my hair, as his face turned towards mine. His lips were very near to my ear and I could feel his breath as it ran across my skin. His lips brushed ever so slightly against the side of my face as our hug ended and we pulled away from each other. My heart was beating quickly as I waived goodbye and drove away.

Over the next week we continued to write each other. Both of us were eager to see each other again and agreed to meet that weekend. I told him to choose a place for us to go. He chose an upscale restaurant for dinner and also a lounge to go to afterwords for drinks. That meant I had to dress accordingly. I couldn't wear jeans and a t-shirt to a place like that. I was pleased at the thought of dressing up though. I had not forgotten the way my body had responded to the hug we had shared. I would put in the effort to make myself attractive to him this time. I put on the most form fitting pair of dark jeans I had, the ones that hugged every curve. I added a lovely medium blue peasant blouse with a low cut front that showed off my chest. It had three buttons at the neckline that could be further opened, a gathered waist that emphasized my shape, and graceful butterfly arms. I ditched my glasses in favor of contacts so he could see my eyes and carefully did my makeup. I brushed out my hair and let it hang down my back.I put on dangling earrings and a matching necklace and looked at myself in the mirror. The reflection was not the same girl Puli had met before. I hoped he would like it.

I arrived at the restaurant just after the agreed upon time of 7:30 and he was already there. I had to work to keep my jaw from dropping. Neither of us had ever been to the restaurant but it was supposed to be on the upscale side. I was dressed nicely but he looked amazing. He wore a dark grey shirt under a black blazer, black slacks and black shoes. It fit him perfectly, showing off the width of his shoulders and the length of his frame. He was truly a beautiful man. He smiled as he saw me, gave me a quick hug in greeting and said, "Shall we go in?"

The hostess informed us that there would be at least a 30 minute wait on a table and encouraged us to head to the bar area while we waited. To our relief we found two seats next to each other and quickly grabbed them. The bartender gave us the drink menu and we each chose a beer to sip as we watched basketball on the bar TVs and waited for our table. We soon realized that several of the people at the bar had simply ordered food and were eating there rather than wait for a table. It seemed like a good idea to us. Puli quickly informed the hostess that we would no longer be needing a table and obtained a food menu for us at the bar. We each decided on our meal (I chose a dish without onions) and ordered another beer to drink as we watched the game and waited for our food. We chatted as we watched and it wasn't long before I noticed that his hand was casually draped across the back of my chair. I was very aware of its nearness to my back. I shivered a little to myself, the same slightly electrifying feeling I had had during the hug at the end of our last date running along my skin.

Our food arrived quickly and he removed his hand so that he could eat with it but the awareness of him did not leave me as we ate. We talked between bites, commenting on the game, the taste of the food and the atmosphere of the eatery. He ordered another beer as we finished and his hand returned to the back of my chair. The beer had relaxed us both and as we talked his hand would occasionally lift to caress my arm or gently squeeze my shoulder. If I had had any doubt that he had felt the charge between us during our last date his touches on this one assured me he had. We continued to talk until he had finished his beer and decided it was time to head to the lounge he had chosen for the evening. It was a short two blocks of walking and we were there.

The lounge was in the basement of a hotel. It was dimly lit and decorated in tones of beige, red and black with comfortable, high-backed benches and shiny black tables. On the walls were a few large black and white photos of celebrities from the fifties and a few large decorative mirrors. In the center of the lounge was a baby grand piano. Music played softly from small speakers hung from the ceiling. The patrons talked quietly among themselves in pairs or small groups. It was a perfect place for intimate conversation.

We approached the well stocked bar, perused the drink menu and each chose a cocktail. His hand came to rest on the small of my back as we watched to bartender mix our drinks, his fingertips barely touching me. I resisted the urge to arch my back at the sensation as we grabbed our drinks and headed into the lounge. We took a somewhat more private seat at a wraparound near the piano and he slid in beside me as I sat. We drank and quietly murmured to each other and before long his arm was around my shoulder, the entire length of his side pressed to mine, wreaking havoc on my senses. We ordered more drinks and his hand lifted to gently stroke and play with my hair, commenting on how he liked it. His other hand came to rest lightly on my knee as he turned his body to look at me more fully. I felt flushed, intoxicated from the alcohol and his nearness. My body quivered as his hand came up to turn my face towards his.

My heart skipped slightly and my eyes widened as they met his for the briefest moment before I felt his lips on mine. I had known it was coming and yet the kiss was a shock to my system. I was helpless against it. Those perfect, luscious lips moving slowly and deeply against mine, smothering me. I was drowning in his lips and I did not care. All the world was in the touch of his lips on mine, demanding a surrender I was more than happy to give. I felt the breath rush into my lungs as he pulled his lips from mine. I vaguely realized that I must have stopped breathing but I could not think properly, dazed and weakened as I was by his kiss. I sat for a moment, blinking, unable to form a thought. I slowly became aware of the people around us and came to the realization that I had been very thoroughly kissed in front of them all. I blushed at the thought even as he turned my face to his for another deep kiss. I felt my desire for him pulsing as he kissed me. I knew what those kisses were meant to lead to. I needed cool air against my hot skin, fresh air to clear my head.

I stood and pulled him behind me out into the night. The air and the open space were refreshing after the dim confines of the lounge but I was not free of danger. He pulled me to him and kissed me passionately as we stood on the sidewalk. I buried my face in his shoulder for a moment and concentrated on staying upright. His kiss made me weak and breathless. I was not used to such passionate displays in public places. We began to walk along, hands joined, past the boutiques, small restaurants and bars that littered the area. One of the trendier bars caught his eye and he pulled me inside. We found a table nestled in the corner and he wandered up to the bar to order for us. He returned with a shot of Baileys and a pint of brown ale for each of us.

"Slainte!" we toasted as we took our shot together and lowered the empty glasses. I could see his face better in the slightly brighter lighting of the bar. He looked dangerously handsome sitting across from me sipping his beer.

My eyes couldn't help but fall to his lips and my own tingled at the thought of them. He wiggled his eyebrows, gave me a mischievous smile and slid his chair around close to mine. I couldn't help but giggle but it caught in my throat the instant he leaned forward and lifted my chin. In an instant his lips were on mine again pulling me in. I swayed slightly in my chair when he finally broke the kiss and leaned back. I hoped he didn't notice.

"I think its time to go," he said and I nodded mutely in reply, still unable to speak. I pushed my chair back and he grabbed my hand as I stood and pulled me to him, pressing the entire length of his body against mine tightly as he ravaged my mouth. My mind flew away. I forgot that we were in a crowded bar surrounded by people. I forgot my own name. The sensation was all that mattered in that moment. The intoxication of his kiss. I knew that he was coming home with me that night.

His hand remained possessively on my knee as we rode the short distance to my house and I felt him close behind me as I unlocked the door and walked in. I took off my shoes and threw my keys on the coffee table, my hands shaking slightly. He shut the door behind him, threw the bolt and turned towards me with a predatory gleam in his eye. In a moment he had me pressed against the wall, his hands pulling my hips into his and his lips overtaking mine. I could feel the power in his body, the heat burning into me and igniting my own flame. I kissed him back recklessly, nipping at his bottom lip, lost to the desire he had so easily awakened. He pulled back for a second to take a ragged breath, resting his forehead against my own, eyes looking downward. His view was down the neckline of my low cut shirt as my own erratic breathing brought his attention to my breasts.

"Mmmm," he moaned as he reached up to unbutton the three little buttons that would further expose me. "I want some of this," he murmured as he pulled the material outward and looked down at the mounds of my breasts in their lacy push up bra. One of his hands slid up my side and cupped a breast to measure the feel of it. I breathed out quickly at the touch, inadvertently pushing it more firmly into his hand. My eyelids closed at the sensation as he gently squeezed my breast through my clothing.

Before I could register anything else his lips were back on mine, his body pressing me back into the wall. I felt the urgency in them as clearly as the hard bulge that pressed against my abdomen. When he pulled away again it was almost in challenge, defying me to resist him as he led me towards the couch. I offered no resistance, felt the same desire he felt. He pulled me down with him, both of us half sitting and half lying on the couch on our sides so that we could maintain the closeness.

We had only half settled when I sought his lips again, desperate to feel them moving against my own. I clung to him as our kisses deepened and his hands frantically ran over my body. They pushed up the hem of my shirt and explored the bare skin beneath making me shiver and press myself more firmly into him. He pulled back and lifted us both into more of a sitting position and grabbed the hem of my shirt in both hands. I lifted my arms in acquiescence and he quickly stripped me of my shirt. He stared at my chest and his hand quickly came up to kneed it again. His fingers curled under a bra strap and quickly slid it off my shoulder and turned the bra cup down so that my breast was exposed. In an instant he had bent forward and captured the nipple in his mouth. My hands grasped at his head as my own fell backwards. I heard myself moan as he rhythmically sucked at my hardened nipple, nipping at it with his teeth. He finally pulled his head away and deftly returned the bra to its original position even as he took possession of my mouth again.