Allure of the Vixen (2 page)

The bartender came over. “Here are the first two
drinks,” he said. “The soda canister is out, I need to swap it before I can get
the scotch and sodas, it will be a few minutes if that is okay.”

“That’s fine,” said Joanne. She hadn’t moved back
from where she had been shoved near me, and our bodies were still touching. I
wanted to move away, I needed to, but I couldn’t.

I glanced over at her, it wouldn’t hurt to be
polite, instantly drawn to her eyes, and as soon as I did she caught me, smiling
devilishly. The woman who I thought had been embarrassed by Marie was toying
with me. I looked down, but that was a mistake, because at well over six feet I
was still much taller than her five nine frame, and my eyes fell directly down
to her chest, the river of her cleavage, drawing my eyes downward. Tonight she
was wearing something a little more revealing  than her normal office outfit, a
lot of the women had dressed up a bit today because of the party. Her dress
fitted her perfectly, her breasts so erect they pushed the fabric out, giving
me a clear view of the top of her bra.

As I said, I’d been with quite a few attractive
women, I’d always been confident with them, and in my abilities with them. I
had been told I was a very good lover. At first, I thought it was some womanly
bullshit,
oh, you are so good, you make me so hot, you have such a big dick,
all of that, like they had been all reading the same magazine, an article about
how to suck up to your man. But after hearing it so often, I started to believe
it. I must have actually been pretty good, all the women seemed more than
happy, ecstatic even, with our sex. I’d even broken two diaphragms, bent them
out of shape, one of the women telling me that it was because my cock had
crushed it. I loved getting women off, giving them orgasms. I didn’t think much
of it in the sense that I assumed all men were the same, but once I got into my
thirties, and was having sexual relationships with women who had slept with a
greater number of men themselves, and therefore had some experience, did I
begin to understand that I was probably better at all this than most men.

As if she was reading my thoughts, Joanne said, “You’re
not at all like the other men in the office.”

“In what way?”

“Let’s see.” Joanne perused the crowd. “There’s Jack
over there. He’s a creep, always making rude jokes with what he thinks are
subtle sexual innuendos. Then there’s Jason, he drops stuff on the floor all
the time so he can catch an upskirt. And Frank, from accounting, always coming
over, asking questions about expense reports, just trying to get a look down my
blouse.”

“Sounds like you think everyone is a sleazeball.”

“ Most of them are harmless. Those are just some of
the guys who bother me.”

“It’s tough, being so attractive. Everyone staring
at you all the time.” I said it offhand, if it had been any other woman I might
have put more of an edge in my voice, taking her down a notch.

“I didn’t think you noticed.”

“Hard not to notice a woman like you.” This was
dangerous territory for me, but I’d sound like an idiot if I didn’t mention the
obvious.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. You get noticed as
well.”

“Hopefully not because I’m one of the creeps.”

“Not at all. A lot of the women talk about you.”

“Huh. I don’t really care.”

“Really? No interest at all?”

I shrugged. “Okay, I’ll play. What do they say?”

“They don’t quite know what to make of you.”

“I’m just a regular guy.”

“I don’t believe that any more than you do.” Joanne
glanced back over at our crowd. “Marie thinks you are nice.” Her voice was
flat.

“Interesting. Actually, not really.”

“I’m not sure I agree with her.”

 “So I’m not nice?” I didn’t give a shit what Marie
thought. Joanne, though, was another matter.

“Dan is
nice.
You’re not like Dan. He’s more
of a sweet nice, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

Joanne looked away briefly, as if deciding what to
say or how to say it. “There are a lot of nuances to nice, especially to a
woman. There’s sweet, there’s kind. There’s polite. Some men can be all of
them, and that’s pretty much it. Some men can be none of those. Others can be
some of them, but also have something else, an edge.”

“I’m not sure I follow all that,” I admitted.

“That’s because you are a man. Well, that’s not all
of it. If you were a man who just took what he wanted, and didn’t care what
anyone thought, including the person he was taking from, you’d certainly be
aware of that. That’s one kind of man. A lot of woman like that in a man. Maybe
not for a husband, but for a fantasy.” Joanne paused. “Or a lover.”

My heart started beating a little faster, this
conversation taking a decidedly personal turn. Was Joanne telling me that she
had a lover, as opposed to a boyfriend? Or that she fantasized about rough
powerful men?

“There are other types of men too,” she went on,
seemingly unaware of my unease; she was assuming I was interested, which
probably wasn’t too hard to fathom. “Powerful men. Confident men. Funny men.
All of them attractive in their own way.”

“I didn’t know women did so much male
classification,” I said.

“I’m sure men do, too. Certainly about looks. Don’t
you have a type of woman you are attracted to?” Joanne lifted her eyes to mine.

I couldn’t tell if she was just bullshitting to pass
the time, or teasing me, or flirting. My first instinct was to say,
‘Sure I
do, and you are my perfect type, with your sexy voice and your incredible body
and your sparkling eyes that speak to me and suck me in.’
That’s what I
might have said to a woman in a different situation, a woman I didn’t work with.

Joanne gave me a second to respond, but when it was
clear that I wasn’t going to say anything, she went on, “And it’s not just
looks. I bet men have preferences for personalities. Take Marie, for instance,
fun loving Marie. I bet some men love all that not so veiled sex talk, those
almost slutty dresses she wears to the office, those fuck me shoes.”

I picked up one of the drinks to cover my surprise
at Joanne’s sudden shift in tone, the drink wasn’t even mine but I took a swig
of it anyway. I was certainly comfortable with the word fuck, even from a
woman, but hearing it from Joanne sounded so sexy, so intimate.

When I’d recovered, I said, “I like Marie, but
you’re right, she’s not my personality type.”

“She did ask a good question, though. What’s your
story?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Word gets around the office.
You haven’t hit on
anyone.
Why is that?”

“Maybe I’m gay,” I said.

Joanne picked up the other drink, which wasn’t hers
either, it was a shot, she had been drinking wine. She took the full hit. “You
aren’t. I can tell.”

“Really?” I was intrigued.

“Really.”

“How do you know? I could be just in the closet.”

“I think it’s something chemical.”

“Chemical.”

“Hormonal. Whatever it is, I’m sure of it.”

I laughed, getting a little more comfortable with
the conversation, even though it had an undertone of illicitness beneath it.
Even under Joanne’s influence, I was still confident in my ability to resist
doing anything stupid. Not that I wouldn’t think it, not that I wouldn’t
fantasize about it later, maybe even beat myself up for not doing anything, but
knowing Joanne was probably doing this just because she knew I was safe. I
didn’t fool around in the office, and I think everyone knew it.

“I know many a guy who went after a woman who turned
out to be a lesbian,” I said. “They were driven by hormones too. And totally
fooled by them.”

“That’s because they were listening to just their
own hormones,” Joanne said. “I bet none of those guys ever really got close to
those women, or touched them.” Joanne brushed my arm with her long fingers, hot
pokers of communication. “Even with all their testosterone, the stop sign would
have shut them down.”

“Maybe,” I said, trying to not visibly respond to
Joanne’s touch, thinking of a woman a friend of mine had lusted after that I
later learned was gay. I never did get close enough to her to test Joanne’s
theory. And even if that woman had been straight, I can’t imagine if I had
touched her it would have been anything like what Joanne had just done to me.

“You sound pretty sure of yourself,” I said. “Have you
tested it on gay guys?”

“As a matter of fact, I have,” she said, matter of
factly. “And I have no—reaction—to most straight men either. But certain men, I
know. And not only about them being not gay.”

Now I was totally ensnared, not able to think of anything
else, wondering what Joanne was alluding to, as I’m sure was her plan. “Okay,
I’ll play along,” I said, as if I had a choice. “What else do you know about
them?”

“What I told you before. What kind of man they are.”

My hand was resting on the bar, and Joanne reached
under my arm for my drink, the bare skin of her forearm pushing under my
fingers. Again I felt the heat, like a fire, but a fire I wanted to put my
hands into instead of pulling away. With just that one touch, my cock grew rock
hard.

Joanne grasped the glass and slowly pulled her arm
away, sinuously dragging it across my hand. She brought the glass to her lips
and sipped, looking at me over the top of the rim.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “My skin is sometimes cold to
the touch.”

“It felt pretty hot to me,” I said.

“Now you understand how I know you aren’t gay. And
who I respond to.”

For a second, everything froze in time. I couldn’t
hear the music, I couldn’t sense anyone else in the crowded room. I fell into
Joanne’s eyes, totally smitten, no longer able to resist her charms, her power,
her sensuality. I knew I would remember that moment forever.

It was a dream, the pot at the end of the rainbow,
but one that was never to be reached.

Maybe I could get her to quit her job. Or maybe
she’d be worth quitting my own job. Could any woman be that good?

I was saved from having to respond by the return of
the bartender with the rest of the drinks.

“We should be getting back,” I said.

“Too bad,” said Joanne. “We were just getting to the
good stuff.”

I picked up a couple of glasses, realizing that we
were two drinks short, because of the ones we had absconded. I signaled for the
bartender to get us refills on those.

“It has been interesting,” I said.

“I’ve learned quite a bit about you.”

“Really now.” I couldn’t imagine what she thought
she had learned. I’d learned little about her; her beauty and magnetic
attraction I had already known, although now I realized how truly powerful it
was. If she had asked me to leave right then with her, I don’t think I could have
resisted.

But that was egotistical talk.  She must have a
boyfriend. The lover she alluded to, an odd choice of words, maybe her European
upbringing.

Or maybe she was just a tease, and this was
something I was learning. Yet another reason to avoid her.

Still, I couldn’t help but ask, falling neatly into
her trap, “So what have you learned?”

“You want me,” she said.

And then, without waiting for the drinks, she walked
away from the bar.

It was pretty rare for me to be at a loss
for thoughts or words, or flummoxed by someone. But Joanne had me. It was
masterful, the way she had manipulated the conversation to something personal,
and then to something sexual, talking about men leering at her. Touching me,
talking about being hot around me. Getting me thinking she was interested,
accessible. Then dismissing me as another lecher, and walking away.

The entire act was so good it took away some of the
sting of her jerking me around, and I laughed.

The joke was on me. If she hadn’t been so good at
her act, I would have been pissed, and called her on it. She’d actually done me
a favor, now I had another reason to avoid Joanne in the office.

Still chuckling, I grabbed as many drinks as I could
carry and went back to join the group.

I handed out the drinks. “I’ll get the rest of them.”

“I thought Joanne was helping you,” said Marie.

I shrugged. “She disappeared.”

“Scare her off?”

“I doubt anyone scares Joanne.”

“She scares me sometimes,” muttered Dan.

“I know what you mean,” said another guy. “Those
eyes, and those—.” He stopped, seeing the women all looking askance at him.

I was wondering what he was going to say. I would
have voted for legs, I’d never seen better. But he was right to list the eyes
first; Joanne’s whole body could have been covered with a dull blanket, and she
would still be able to snare you with just her eyes.

I went back to the bar, Dan trailing along.

“Shit, man, you were gone a long time. I thought you
and Joanne had snuck off somewhere.”

“The bartender had to get more soda water. Besides,
I don’t fool around with anyone in the office.”

“I’ve heard.” When I gave him a quizzical look, he
added, “I’ve overheard some of the women talking. You have quite a harem, or
could have, if you wanted one.”

I’d had harems. They were overrated. “You look like
you’re doing okay yourself,” I said.

“You mean Marie? I admit it, she’s pretty enticing.
But if I ever did anything with her, it would be all over the office in a few
days. I don’t think I want that.”

“I hear you.”

“She’s divorced, did you know that? We started
working here about the same time, about seven years ago. She was sleeping around
even when she was married.”

We’d reached the bar and picked up the drinks. “I wouldn’t
do that,” I said. “Sleep with a married woman. Or sleep with another woman if I
was married.” What as the point of getting married if you still wanted to fuck
around?