Forbidden Fruit or Care and Feeding of Amorous Beavers
Part 1
1. The Seduction
Tom scanned the room. There was a good crowd tonight. The "Passion Fruit Lounge" catered to people too old for clubs and too young for piano bars. His eyes took in the usual groupings of friends and dates. He likened himself to a hunter on the African savanna.
To his left, fast moving antelope, people who did everything quickly. Never staying long enough in one place to form lasting attachments. Never staying on one topic for too long for fear they would become boring.
In front the monkeys, chattering noisily and occasionally grooming their mates, straightening their hair, scratching their necks and arms and using characteristically silly pet names for each other.
To the right the water-hole wallowers, already well on their way to nasty hangovers.
In the distance he spied his preferred game, the susceptible beaver. She was standing next to a man, tugging on his arm. Tom advanced stealthily and listened to their primitive vocalizations.
"Come on Dan, a dance will do you good; clear your head a bit."
"Not right now Stephanie, I just need to veg a bit."
"If you veg any more you'll start to root." She replied amiably.
"Perhaps I shouldn't have let you persuade me to chug that shooter. You know how I react to vodka."
"Yes, even I feel a little woozy after that but now that my inhibitions have been lowered a little, I feel I can inflict my dancing on the world."
"Perhaps later Steph."
"Well I'm going to get a drink. Need anything?"
"No not right now."
Tom stalked her to the bar energized by her complex scent of sweat, perfume and pheromones. Tom saw more indecisive predators turn and watch her passage optimistically but yield to his obvious dominance.
Stephanie was taller than average, perhaps 5 ft 8 to 5 ft 10 in. Her naturally auburn hair framed a pretty face and fell loosely to her shoulders. There are many women who are pretty but with a hardness to their features or the set of their face that makes them less approachable. Stephanie, however had an open, more vulnerable look that attracted people to her, while she herself seemed unaware of her attraction. She was dressed in a bluish light-weight ribbed sweater that fit snugly over her well-formed breasts, showing them off seductively. She also wore a slinky black silk skirt, which was slit up the side and extended to mid thigh revealing sleek nylon clad thighs that poised gracefully, though none too steadily, on spike heeled shoes.
She leaned on the bar and waited to get the barman's attention.
"Excuse me." Tom said. "I hope you don't think I'm being forward but I couldn't help overhearing that you wanted to dance. I would be happy to be your partner for a dance or two."
Stephanie blushed shyly, held up her ring finger and waggled it.
"I'm here with my husband, he might not approve."
"He seems like a nice person and besides I see he's a little preoccupied right now."
Stephanie looked back to her table. Her husband was talking to a scantily clad woman who was laughing at something he had said. She wondered briefly who she was then, looking back at Tom, sized him up more seriously. He was over six feet tall and good-looking in a rugged sort of way. Well-dressed, his open face betrayed none of the superficiality or sleaziness of the men who normally tried to proposition her.
"At least let me get you a drink." He said.
Stephanie glanced back at her husband who seemed to have risen out his torpor somewhat and was obviously going to be busy for a while.
"Well alright and maybe I can free up a spot on my dance card." She joked.
What could happen, she thought, she was here with her husband in a room full of people. Women are invited to dance every day without things happening to them.
Tom hailed the barman.
"Do you still have the drinks you were holding for me?"
Stephanie looked shocked and her face fell like he had poured cold water over her.
