GLENDA’S DEMON LOVER WAS beautiful. He was tempting, tantalizing, and everything a woman should never want. Most women, even most very needy women, saw this underlying spider web within him and avoided it. Glenda was not so fortunate.
Perhaps it was the Gods who stepped in, or maybe the machinations of the embodiment of evil. It didn’t matter. Bit by bit, one small incursion at a time, Glenda inched forward toward this lover. Inch by inch, bit by bit, his being slithered into hers to become more than part of her.
He entered her life through her dreams, first, and that neither often nor strongly. In those beginning times Glenda felt only a vague searching within her, a reaching toward—what? She readily admitted the searching had sexual overtones, but only this. When the overtones became urges she began to ask herself why. When they became an ever increasing desire, she began to seriously seek an outlet for the heat. Andre appeared in one of her more frequent gathering places soon after.
Glenda never knew why she noticed him in particular. The room was full of good looking men and beautiful women. She knew some of them, perhaps most of them, and was not impressed by any of them. She had a beauty of her own, a beauty which belonged among these beautiful people. So did Andre, although he did not stand out any more than the dozen or so others dressed like him.
Women gathered around him, but this did not impress Glenda either. Truth told, she would have been impressed if they had not. The bees around the drones and the queens, this was what such parties were all about.
When she tried to analyze the first attraction she often thought it was the way his body looked in a tuxedo. The tux was proper and appropriate for the time and place. His body was not. There was something about the way it leaned against the ornate pillar, something which was a casual but insistent invitation to come and enjoy it. Glenda remembered this spoke to her so loudly that she let her eyes drop to the package below his belt for conformation. The bulge there confirmed her assessment.
The erection was bold. The jacket drawn back away from it by his stance made it blatant. The slight thrust of his hips made it defiant. Glenda was mesmerized by it from the moment her eyesight framed it beneath the loose, much too proper pants.
The rest of him? Glenda had no real desire to peruse the rest of him. She did so only to mark the surrounding area, to fix the map of his features in her mind. In appearance,
then, Andre looked like the proverbial tall, dark, and brooding bad boy. His hair was mid length; a full, luxuriously wavy mid length. His almost pointed ears lay close to his head; his strong jaw line accented them. His high cheekbones and full, sensuous lips coloured in more of the picture. So did his elegant looking nose.
The nose did have a small crook in the middle of it, almost as though it had once been broken. The crook challenged the perfection of his face, but it did not mar it. It seemed to add to it, instead; to give warning of the dangerous territory ahead; and there was danger there.
Glenda had never seen eyes like Andre’s. One look into those provocative brown orbs assured her he would dare anything. A second look dared her to join him in the wildness. A third look was not necessary. His eyes, like his erection, were a blatant, sexual call to her; so much so they almost seemed like extensions of one another. Then, that first time she stared at him, she did not know where to look. Too many weeks later, she still didn’t.
This, like so many other things between them, did not matter. The desire mattered.
The desire, and the tingling, and the effort it took to breathe when she was around him all mattered very much. So did the incredible urge to tear off her clothes and pull him into her then, there, and frantically.
She didn’t, but she wanted to. The knowing smile he gave her at the time, the amused arch of his eye brow told her he wanted to as well. Later, when they finally shrugged off the annoying party, they did.