The Seduction of Charley

"Come in, Charlotte," he said, "I hope you don't mind my summoning you like this. I heard you were here."

"Not at all. It's nice to see you," Charley said, her eyes dancing in the candlelight. She noticed the chess table behind him, near the fireplace, and prayed he would not ask her to play.

"Please sit down," he said, motioning to the velvet sofa. A bottle of wine had been opened beside two crystal glasses. "Will you have a drink?"

"Yes, please," she said, trying to control her excitement, knowing she was failing. "I didn't think I would see you."

"I don't often attend my parties anymore. I prefer more intimate gatherings," he said, sitting several inches from her, reaching for the bottle. He wore loose black trousers and a tailored white shirt. "I'd like to know what you think of this wine."

She watched him pour. His fingers where long and slender; a lock of hair had escaped and fallen over his forehead. He seemed particularly relaxed in her presence. She took the glass from him, and held it under her nose, knowing he was watching her, knowing she would praise it no matter what it tasted like. "It's delicious."

"Good. We'll stay with it then." He leaned back and looked at her, admitting, "I actually brought you up here with a purpose."

She couldn't help smiling before answering, "Really?"

He reached behind the sofa and produced a black velvet bag. "This is for you."

"Oh," she said, accepting it from him, "What's this for?"

He smiled, and stretched his long arm across the back of the sofa. "Let's call it a housewarming present."

Charley gave him a playfully stern look. "Shouldn’t that be my job?"

"Open it."

She untied the silken ropes and pulled down the velvet casing. She stared at the image, not wanting to say what she wanted to say. Finally, seized by what she thought was the correct answer, or at least an acceptable one, she said, "It looks like a wolf." In truth, she thought it looked like a dog, and that it wasn't supposed to.

"Very good," he congratulated. "There is a large wolf sanctuary in France, near my vineyard. I am mystified by them, I suppose."

"I can imagine. It must be wonderful there. I love France," she said, and meant it. "Really, thank you for this," she repeated, withholding the cliché about how he shouldn't have. She was glad he had.

He moved nearer and helped her slide the bottle into the velvet casing. His face was inches from hers when he looked at her and said, "Your fragrance is very pleasant. May I?"

She didn't know what to do, and turned her head slightly for him to get closer to her neck. When he lifted her hair to the side, she felt his breath on her back where her sweater exposed her shoulder blade. "I believe it's the smell of your hair that I noticed."

The jumpiness she felt when alone in her bedroom with him was mild compared to what she felt sitting on the sofa with him. In his house. In his private room. "I did wash it tonight. I don't remember putting on perfume," she said softly, praying he didn’t realize how nervous she was, knowing he would have to be blind not to.

Marowe moved away, and let his head fall back, as if inhaling the smoke from a premium cigar. "Ah, yes. Perfume can be overpowering. The scent of cleanliness is much more subtle, and fresh. I am sensitive to smells. They can be very powerful, and erotic."