Said the Spider to the Fly

Paris was restless. Her husband had died 6 weeks ago and already she felt her body aching for a man. She also knew that her bank account would soon need an influx of cash. She devoted each Sunday to reading the papers, checking out the society page, in search of her new mate.

Then she saw him. His pictures filled the Lifestyle section as he escorted a lovely woman to an extremely elegant charity event. She barely glanced at the woman, not really too interested in her. What intrigued her, mesmerized her, was the image of her new husband.

She didn't require good looks for a mate, but this Paul Andrews had them in abundance. He was tall, towering over the insipid blond clinging to his arm. He was well-dressed, his tux fitted perfectly. His dark hair, with sexy streaks of silver, was artistically tousled. She stared at his lips, full and sensual, sporting a full moustache that looked very soft and tempting. The woman was looking at him adoringly, her mouth slightly opened, making her appear breathless.

She avidly read the description of the gala, noting that Paul Andrews was named several times, in glowing terms. He was wintering at his beach house and was an active participant in the charity. They listed his many good works, a perfect resume for Paris; she could picture this man's healthy bank account.

The next morning, Paris was up early. She lingered in a scented bath, finalizing her plans. She stepped from the tub, drying and anointing her skin with fragrant lotion. She carefully selected beautiful, gossamer lingerie and slipped into it. It wasn't that she thought anyone would see it, it was just that she worked better when she felt sexy. She stood in front of the wall of mirrors, turning to see all angles. She was a lovely woman; beautiful, really. Paris had a clear, glowing olive complexion. Her cap of dark curls had tiny streaks of silver that enchanted men; the innocence of wayward curls mixed with the sophistication of silver was nearly intoxicating. Her dark brown eyes seemed to fill her face. Her cheeks were naturally pink with high, perfectly-formed cheekbones. She had matching dimples on either side of her full, pouty mouth.

Paris was petite and full-figured. She was delicate in a way that made men want to take care of her and protect her. She admired her reflection and the dainty creamy lingerie against her perpetually tanned flesh. She enjoyed looking at herself. Paris ran her fingers up her smooth skin, luxuriating in the caress, the sensation of being touched. Finally, she forced herself to end her inspection. Almost sadly, she stepped into a black dress with red accents, covering up her lovely near-nakedness. She knew how to dress, how to look elegantly understated. Men liked that. She slipped her nylon clad feet into strappy black sandals, feeling the stretch in her calves.

She went to the garage and started her lovely, deep blue Mercedes convertible. The engine purred quietly as she backed down the drive. She loved driving this car. For a moment, she thought fondly of her late husband and his generosity. The car had been a gift from him soon after they started dating. Behind the wheel, she felt powerful, capable and very, very sexy. She enjoyed watching men turn to look at her appreciatively as she drove by.

Paris parked at Dearling Corporation, the offices of Paul Andrews. She smiled enchantingly at the valet attendant, flashing a bit of well-toned thigh and a creamy garter as she stepped from her car. He handed her the parking stub, his fingers caressing hers gently.

She knew well the effect she had on men. All men. Young, old, married, gay; they all succumbed to her effortless charm. It had been this way her entire life, and she was perfectly content exploiting that effect whenever possible.

Entering the building, she was among throngs of bustling business people, all moving purposefully. She entered the elevator, ascending to the executive floor. When she stepped from the car, she found herself in a tasteful, intimate reception room. She moved quietly to the far corner, sat down, crossed her shapely legs, and waited.

In person, Paul was even better than she had hoped. It wasn't long before he strode through the reception area, stopping to say hello to Janine, the woman behind the desk. He asked about her family and actually listened to her reply. As he stood there, Paris observed him carefully. He was dressed in a hand-tailored suit, a charcoal grey that looked great on him. His shirt was the palest shade of blue, his tie a deeper blue.

His voice was deep and rich, his laugh authentic. She watched his hands as he gestured and talked. They were lovely, slender and graceful. Everything about him was elegant and classical. Everything appealed to her. This was a rarity. She usually didn't have the luxury of finding her men attractive, just rich and powerful. And, of course, susceptible to her charms.

Paris never doubted her charms. She knew exactly how she affected men, she relied on that. Paul Andrews, her next target, would be no exception. She remained sitting quietly, just watching the people in the room, particularly Paul. She waited patiently.

As Paul finished his conversation, he turned to go into his office. His gaze fell on Paris; their eyes met. And locked. His widened slightly with surprise and delight. Hers gazed at him with felicity. She slowly licked her lips, making them shine even more. He watched her little pink tongue, and found himself wondering how it would feel exploring his mouth.

Paul nearly shook his head in an effort to clear it. He hadn't become a leader in industry by indulging in flights of fancy. He nodded to the woman and turned to leave. Something made him stop. He was forced to turn around, and rewarded by her most radiant smile. She stood. He nearly grinned with pleasure. She was tiny, delicate, perfectly proportioned. He watched as she moved toward him, her body swaying slightly, enticingly.

Paris walked to Paul, holding out her hand as she neared him. She introduced herself in a breathy voice. He found himself leaning nearer to hear her. He was pleased to note that she smelled delicious, softly enticing. Everything about her pleased him.

He asked her into his office, curious about what he could do for her. She entered before him, her scent lingering as she moved. He stepped behind his desk, waiting for Paris to be seated before he sat. She seemed to curl into the chair, comfortable immediately. He sat quietly, losing himself in her huge brown eyes, waiting for her to begin.

Paris sighed deeply, and began to speak. "I recently lost my dear husband. He was the only family I had, the only person in my life. I am lonely and still quite bereft. I can't imagine anything better than to spend my time helping others. I read about your charitable works and I want to help, in any way I can. I have money to contribute, time to share, resources I can call upon. Just let me help you, please?" As she finished, her voice trembled, just a little, her eyes filled with tears, and she had to turn away to compose herself.

Paul was mesmerized. This sweet, gentle woman was all alone in the world. It wasn't fair. Women like her were meant to be protected and cared for, not left to fend for themselves! He stood, quickly circling the desk and standing before her. He reached out a hand, just to touch her, just to offer comfort. He was never sure how it happened, but instead of a gentle, reassuring touch, he was holding her. Holding this wonderful woman, feeling her softness and inhaling her intoxicating scent. She rested her head on his chest, sighing deeply, as if she had come home. His hands went to her back and caressed her, gentling her, comforting her.

They stood together for several minutes, both content to remain close. Then, reluctantly, they drew apart. Paris had a gentle blush on her cheeks, moisture still clinging to her full lashes. She smiled with embarrassment, which endeared her even more to Paul. He stepped back, taking her hands and smiling into her eyes.

Before she left the office, Paris had been given an assignment and lists of people to contact. They discussed the acquaintances they had in common, finding quite a few. They made plans to work together the next evening, to start the newest pledge campaign underway. Paul even offered to share his office with her, making a mini-office on the large conference table. Paris smiled gently, overwhelmed by his kindness and understanding. When she left, he escorted her to the elevator, introducing her as his new associate to Janine, explaining that Paris was to be given full acess to his office. Janine looked at her suspiciously; women usually did. But it didn't matter. Paris had made the first contact with her next husband. She had begun to spin her web.

To Be Continued...