"Aaahhh!"
Alarmed at hearing her friend's outcry through the closed door, the private detective springs into action. Her gun, the stylish, gold-embossed Sig P238 with the custom cherrywood grips, leaps into her hand as she again hears her friend's loud, arcing cry from inside her swanky Miami Beach top floor suite. She clicks off the thumb safety as she uses her key to silently unlock the outside door, flings it open, leaps inside and yells, "Freeze!"
Everyone does.
The nude woman bent over the armchair stops squirming on the erect penis impaling her. The naked man standing behind her, fingers embedded in the woman's ass, quits fucking her. And the private detective, stunned but mesmerized by the lurid, highly erotic scene before her, is at a loss. Her confusion is amplified by the wave of sudden, overwhelming animal attraction for the naked man.
As all three players reel in shock and surprise, each recalls what led to this most intriguing, significant encounter.
***
The man's eyes widen and his cock twitches the instant she opens the door. Lisa Blake is stunning, beyond beautiful. Her voice is sexy, mellifluous, as enticing as her appearance. "Mr. Lagarde, thank you for your patience. I'm sorry I was so abrupt this morning. Sometimes I don't sleep well, and... No matter. Please do come in and ask your questions."
He quickly closes his mouth and smiles. The change in the woman is astonishing. When he'd dropped in earlier, an unwanted visitor on a random late Sunday morning, she had been disheveled, bleary-eyed and confused, blinking as the harsh morning light pierced the gloom inside her house. Maybe drugged? Hung over? She'd tried to quickly get rid of him, but he'd used all his tact and charm and eventually got to her. By the time he left, she had agreed to talk with him if he came back late that afternoon. [Almost 2 and rising.]
He makes his voice silky, congruent with hers. "It's so good of you to see me, Mrs. Blake, and I promise that I'll be as brief as possible."
"Can I offer you some refreshment? Something to drink, perhaps?"
Mid-sentence, he recognizes the music playing in the background. "A libation would be... My goodness! That's Anna Moffo isn't it? Her rendition of Verdi's 'Caro Nome' is one of the very best, in my opinion. What a gorgeous instrument! And a truly gorgeous woman. Very much like you, if I may say so, Mrs. Blake."
Lisa Blake's eyebrows raise and her mouth forms an oval as her head tilts slightly to the side. Her eyes scan the man's face and she unconsciously mirrors his erect posture, which pulls her sheer silk blouse taut across her breasts. The needle sweeps past 2 as she says, "Yes, it is Moffo. You know your opera, sir."
"Cyr, actually." As Lisa's lips curl into an intrigued smile, Cyr silently thanks Rebecca Ceala for the umpteenth time. His dance teacher, sex coach, and seduction guru had encouraged him to broaden his horizons, to learn so much, including dancing, poetry, food and wine, all the cultural and societal niceties. Opera had been on the list. "And a drink would be nice." He pauses, as if a sudden thought intrudes, then adds, "Oh look. It's almost 5 o'clock. I don't suppose you have any scotch?" The man's eyes twinkle and invite hers to dance. They do. [2.5 and rising]
Lisa's smile widens as she steps aside, gesturing for the man to enter. He slides past her sideways, purposely closer than necessary, and pauses briefly as his chest passes hers. When Lisa leans back, flustered by his proximity, he looks intently at her, nods and proceeds. [3...]
He admires the abstract art and modern industrial decor while Lisa makes herself a daiquiri and pours a dollop of single malt for him. Neat. After she sits on the couch beside the man, not close but not far, she says, "So, Cyr - what an interesting name - this morning you said you have some questions. Go ahead."
The man often uses his name as a way to make a connection when beginning an encounter, following Seduction Rule III. E: "Have a foolproof conversation starter." He treads the familiar path once again. "Ah yes, my name. I know it's odd," he peers deeply into Lisa's eyes, smiles coyly and delivers the punch line, "but you don't know my mother." When Lisa stops chuckling, he says, "My mother believes she is descended from a Catholic Saint, Saint Cyril of Alexandria."
"Really? How interesting." Lisa turns a bit more towards him and her eyes flutter down, then spring back to his. [3.5... and rising.]
"Yes, a saint." After the perfectly timed pause, during which he leans a bit closer to Lisa, Cyr off-handedly adds, "Just like me."
After they share another small laugh, Lisa says, "Actually, you look like a bit of a bad boy to me."
Delighted that she's playing along, Cyr responds, "Well, Saint Cyril did rape and pillage, have a number of illegitimate children, and arrange for the murder of his rival, so you had best keep a sharp eye on me, Lisa."
"Oh, you can count on that, Cyril."
As the needle on the meter rises almost to 4, Cyr replies, "I've always disliked Cyril; please call me Cyr." While his body continues emitting an aura of sexual energy, to distract Lisa's conscious mind he asks his first obfuscatory question. "Now, if I may, Mrs. Blake, how well do you know your neighbors, the Smiths?"
"Do call me Lisa, Cyr." After smoothing her skirt over her legs, Lisa's hands rest on her thighs as she continues, "Well, we are neighbors and have had some contact, attended some of the same parties, but we don't socialize often. Why do you ask?" [4, and rising.]
Cyr looks directly at Lisa and breathes deeply as if inhaling her essence before continuing. "The Smiths are in the process of updating the insurance coverage on their home. As you may know, rates can vary greatly with domiciles in the 20 million dollar plus range. Based on factors like location, local criminal activity, security, alarm systems, reliability of the owners, number of servants, and so forth."
"Well yes, that makes sense." Lisa brushes her hair back, exposing her long, regal neck. [4.5...]
"Do you know what Mr. Smith, Charles, does for a living?" Cyr uses his most confidential timbre and quiet sonority. As expected, Lisa leans a bit closer to him to hear.
"I believe that Charles is a stockbroker. And obviously does very well." When Cyr looks up from the pad on which he is scribbling meaningless notes, Lisa quickly pulls her eyes from his face, abashed at being caught staring. The faintest flush begins to color her cheeks. [5...]
"And Mrs. Smith, what does she do?" Cyr subtly tenses his abs, washboarding them, and pulls his shoulders back, which stretches his fitted silk shirt tight across his ripped torso. "Is Alice her name?"
Lisa quickly pulls her eyes off his chest, back to Cyr's face. "Yes, Alice. I think she's like me, basically a homemaker. I was a singer once and she may have been a nurse at some point."
"I see." Cyr leans a bit closer to Lisa. He hopes she's enjoying his cologne as much as he is her perfume."Do you happen to know if they use the same security company as you and Mr. Blake? From the small signs both on your windows and in your yards, it seems you might."
"Perhaps. I really don't know." Lisa crosses her legs. Cyr makes certain she sees his eyes widen as they are drawn to the motion. [5.5...]
He licks his lips as he tears his eyes away from her exposed left inner knee and gazes at her, lost momentarily in her face, then says, barely above a whisper, "Do you have any sense about their relationship? Personally, even sexually?"
"My goodness!" Lisa's breath catches and Cyr notes her shiver. Her eyes flare, challenging his. "I'm sure I don't know any such thing. How could I?"
Though the needle dips down below 4, Cyr presses ahead. He doesn't have time for a lengthy, subtle, drawn-out-over-days approach so introduced the idea of sex early on. He needs to succeed today. Lisa's husband is away on business and the maid is off. But she will be back tomorrow. "There are always signs, and even when we aren't aware of them consciously, we do pick things up subliminally. For instance, have you ever seen Charles do this to Alice?" Cyr reaches out and brushes Lisa's cheek. He is gratified at her small gasp and how her eyes lose focus briefly. And that she doesn't pull away. The needle trembles, oscillating between 4 and 5...
When she doesn't answer, Cyr presses head. "Or perhaps this?" Cyr slowly brushes back a lock of Lisa's hair that had fallen forward. "Or maybe he touched her elbow or shoulder like this?"
Cyr waits, letting the pot simmer. Knowing that people, especially people feeling nervous in the presence of someone to whom they are sexually attracted and who is flirting with them, tend to leap in to fill the void.
That Lisa doesn't is the first bad sign. The first of many. Her eyes flicker, trying, but failing to hold his. She slumps, lightly bites her lip, then licks it to sooth the bite. Her voice is small, quavering and uncertain. "I... I just don't know... I suppose..." The needle nose dives to 2. Then lower.
Seeing he has overstepped, Cyr leaps in to fix it, "Ah, no worries, Lisa." He flicks his hand, dispelling the dark cloud as one swats away a pesky fly. His voice is light, airy, and he is encouraged when Lisa again looks at him.
As he lets normalcy return, Cyr reminds himself why he's here. He knows Lisa Blake is in real, perhaps mortal danger. Her husband is seriously physically and psychologically abusive, and the abuse is escalating. William Blake has isolated Lisa from her former life as an opera singer, from her family and her friends, and, other than beating her, has denied her all physical contact, sexual or otherwise, for at least a year and a half. Perhaps two.
Cyr, the premier operative for IFAW - the Institute for Abused Women - has been assigned to save Lisa, to use her body's pent-up need, its yearning for touch, for intimacy, to seduce her. To forge a connection with her and extract her from her abusive relationship. Then bring her to IFAW for the help she so desperately needs, but is too terrified of her husband to seek on her own.
That morning he was heartened by how she responded, how she warmed to him, how she frequently licked her lips, and how her eyes often dilated. An expert in seduction and female desire - his psychology master's degree is in human sexuality - Cyr creates an imaginary gauge, its needle measuring his target's level of sexual arousal. By the time he left in the morning, he knew he'd connected and gauged Lisa's level at approaching 2 on his 0 to 10 scale.
When he returned he was more encouraged to see how she had dressed and then matched his low, soft tone when speaking. As their conversation progressed, he used all his techniques to intensify Lisa's attraction to him, noting and emphasizing those which worked and abandoning those that didn't.
