Roué

"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.

Things had been going very well. Her often evasive but eager eyes, her posture, her nervous laughter, offering him a drink, all had been positive signs and he kept pressing, turning up the heat. However, this sudden regression in her demeanor and voice - becoming hesitant, meek and introverted - is a warning. Her put-on façade of normalcy is in danger of crumbling.

Cyr backs off, mending the rift. "No problem at all, and again thank you so much for your help." After a reassuring smile, he returns to his mundane questioning, beginning his seduction all over again. "Do you know which lawn and pool services the Smiths use? Their reliability can be a factor in our overall assessment."

Lisa visibly relaxes now that the conversation is back on safe ground. She unconsciously brushes her cheek, still tingling from Cyr's touch, and the flush on her cheeks continues to ripen. [Back to 4...] "Well, I know that the men who mow for us do their lawn right afterward, so it seems they do use LawnScape. We don't have a pool, though, so I can't help you there."

As Cyr leans forward to take a sip of his Scotch, he slides imperceptibly closer to Lisa on the couch, just as he has been doing each time he's picked the glass up or set it down. Their thighs are now almost touching, and when Cyr feels the warmth of her leg he knows she can feel his body heat. [4.5 and climbing]

He continues his meaningless surface-level distraction as he resumes his subliminal seduction. "Lisa, do you know if the Smiths employ a permanent butler, valet, chauffeur or handyman? Such a constant presence can positively increase security."

Cyr notes how Lisa's thumb begins lightly rubbing her leg above her knee. A good sign: she likes being touched. Her voice is more normal, though tinged with an edge of excitement. "I don't see any man out in the yard often, so I guess I don't know about that." Lisa pushes the strand of hair that had fallen forward back, exposing her neck. [5...]

Cyr smiles and takes a deep breath, obviously luxuriating in Lisa's presence. He leans back on the couch and says, "I see. Again, thanks so much, Lisa. Now, do you know if the Smiths have an indoor servant, a cook or a maid perhaps? And by the way, do you?" He pops the last question in as a spur-of-moment afterthought, idle chatter between friends. Cementing their bond.

Lisa also sits back. Her low, soft tone indicates that her withdrawal, her sudden regressive crash, has passed. [5.5...] "Well yes, Ginny helps me out, both cooking and cleaning. She's off today, though."

"And the Smiths? Do they have a 'Ginny?'"

Lisa's laugh is quick, nervous. [6...] "Actually I think they do have a maid. At their Christmas party last year - a real bash with the whole neighborhood invited - there was a woman helping Alice, and once when I dropped in to ask Alice about where she got her wonderful window coverings, the same woman answered the door."

Cyr accelerates his cadence, turning up the heat. "Do you happen to know the maid's name, Lisa?" Cyr purposely licks his lips. Lisa mirrors him, automatically licking hers. [6.5...]

"Hmm. Well... Yes, I remember now. I think her name is Suzette."

"Suzette! What a fun, coquettish name. What can you tell me about Suzette?"

"Gosh, I don't think I know..."

"Is she pretty?"

"Oh, yes, she's very attractive."

"Is she young? How old does Suzette seem?" Cyr speeds up his cadence again, noting how the flush on Lisa's cheeks is migrating to her neck. [7...]

"Well, I guess that she does seem young. Probably mid-20s, if I had to guess."

"Now this is important: at the Christmas party did you observe any interactions between Mr. Smith and Suzette?"

"Well..."

"Something like this, perhaps?" Cyr reaches up and lightly caresses Lisa's cheek.

Lisa shivers and her eyes widen as she says, "Goodness, I don't recall. How is this even important? It seems intrusive, even improper. What are you getting at, Cyr?" [7.5...]

Encouraged that she uses his name yet again - another sign of her feeling connected to him - Cyr makes his voice even softer, more confidential. Drawing her in by divulging secrets. "Insurance rates are greatly affected by marital discord. Tensions which could lead to divorce can cause legal and emotional upheaval, neglect, wear and tear on the house, financial uncertainty, security breaches, just all sorts of issues." When Lisa replicates his reassuring nod, Cyr goes on, "So, Lisa, have you seen Charles touch Suzette, perhaps like this when she gave him a drink?" Cyr brushes L's hand, looking deeply into her eyes. [8...]

Lisa's slight moan accompanies her blush completing its southern migration, reddening her neck. And also her breasts, Cyr imagines, knowing that she must be feeling the flush. He waits for her furtive eyes to find his, which he widens as he quickly glances down at her chest. Her nipples are erect, poking through her sheer blouse and bra, and her breathing is rapid and irregular. Her hand above her knee rubs her leg more rapidly. [8.5... Getting close...]

When she does not reply, Cyr says conspiratorially, "Lisa, I have to be honest now."

Cyr waits for her eyes to come to his. He holds them. The hand on the meter teeters, pushing towards 9. "I'm not really an insurance representative." Cyr lets the suspense hang in the air before, "I'm a private investigator hired by Mrs. Smith to look into her husband, who she suspects is having an affair with the maid. With Suzette." Cyr leans even closer. He knows she must be feeling his body heat, intensifying the effect of his body language. "Did you say you think Suzette is pretty?"

Having purposely asked a simple question so he can assess the tone of her voice, Cyr is encouraged both to hear the nervous excitement in it and by her haste in answering. [9... and rising] "Yes, I did say that. Suzette is very pretty."

Cyr shifts, turning directly to Lisa. She mirrors his movement and her feet angle towards him. "I've interviewed Suzette, Lisa. You say she's pretty; I think she's much more than pretty. Suzette is beautiful." Cyr pauses as his fingertips lightly brush Lisa's jaw, turning her face fully to him. "But Suzette is not nearly as beautiful as you are, Lisa."

As the needle pushes past 9, Lisa bites lower lip, but her wide eyes do not look away when Cyr goes on."At Mrs. Smith's request, I put hidden cameras in their house, and have videos of Charles and Suzette. I'm not sure how advanced it is, but they definitely are in a relationship. When they're alone they touch each other. A lot. Like this." Cyr brushes Lisa's cheek. "And this." Cyr puts his hand on her knee and begins to squeeze and massage it.

Lisa shivers as her hands clamp to her heaving chest, just under her breasts. Cyr waits to speak, making sure she focuses entirely on the sensations elicited as he tickles her inner thigh just above her knee. Fingers making little circles. Always edging higher. [9.5...]

When Lisa finally looks at him, he knows it's time. Her body is ready, eager, humming with arousal. He whispers, very softly, drawing her to him. "But there's a crucial question, Lisa, and one that my videos just can't answer. I'm hoping you can." Cyr draws closer still. Their lips are just inches apart, their eyes locked.

He eschews the offered, easy kiss, knowing that the first physical contact can derail any seduction. In this case it could shock Lisa back to reality, breaking the sexual tension. Instead, Cyr goes for the sure thing: more disruption.

"Do you think that Charles enjoys eating Suzette's pussy as much as I'm going to love eating yours?"

Lisa's strangled gasp accompanies her abrupt leap to her feet. She stares at Cyr with wild, shocked eyes. "Oh my God! I can't believe you said that! It's completely improper! I think you should leave. Now. Yes, I want you to go!"

Cyr does stand, but steps very close to Lisa. His hands gently but firmly clasp her elbows, precluding any retreat, any escape, and he looks at her intently as he says, "No, Lisa, that's not what you want."

He can almost feel her tumult as her mind struggles, her sense of decorum and fear of her husband at war with what her body wants, craves, even needs. The needle fluctuates wildly, but at its apex it butts up against 10.

"Of course it is! I want you to leave..."

"No, you want me to do what I said. You want me to eat your pussy."

Cyr notes how Lisa's eyes swim at the word pussy. For her it's an especially loaded word, suffused with lewd, erotic energy. He will use it again. Often.

She stammers, "What! This is crazy! I don't want that at all..."

"But you do, Lisa. Why else did you dress in such a provocative outfit this afternoon, and spend so much time on your hair and makeup?" Her flickering eyes confirm that he's guessed the truth. "You knew I was coming back and dressed to attract me. Didn't you?"

"No. I just..."

"Then why did you leave undone the top two buttons of that lovely diaphanous, almost see-through silk blouse that you know complements your beguiling eyes. And displays your breath-taking, tantalizing breasts. Why did you wear those 'fuck-me' high heels if not to draw my attention to your stunning legs. It all worked. I got the message, Lisa. You are a truly beautiful, striking woman, and I'm honored that you dressed for me."