He had wooed her for months. Surreptitiously and never obviously. Always the perfect gentleman. Sometimes she had even wondered if she imagined his interest. And then he would say something that would leave her in no doubt, before withdrawing once more into his cool detachment.
He wanted her to come to him in spite of herself. To cast aside the security of her lover and admit that her lust for him was stronger. He needed for her to subjugate her will. Leave the strong woman behind and become his plaything. With no possibility of a future, just one single night of passion.
And she was scared. Afraid of his reputation as a ladies’ man. A charming Lothario whose silver tongue had provided him with an inbox full of compliant admiration and a many-notched bedpost. She had no wish to become just another conquest and she suspected that she was not the only focus of his attention. But she had not bargained for the way his words and his actions could run rings around her composure and self-control.
So they played a game. Part courtship, part dance, part mental battle of wills, where points were scored in a virtual maelstrom of emotional denial. A Knight and the opposing Queen, darting fleeting sorties into each other’s territory with the swiftest of escapes before anything got too deep, too involved. A war of attrition between combatants sporting velvet gloves over their steely resolve.
Where each conversation would leave one of them victorious, and the loser in a wretched state of lustful torment.
She knew that she had the power to arouse him and she revelled in it, flitting in and out of his consciousness; toying with him; deliberately leading him on and taking him to the brink before hauling him back from fruition.
But his weapon was an extraordinary ability to get under her skin and into her psyche so that she couldn’t trust her instincts. He would send her things to pique her interest, challenge her long-held perceptions and stimulate her desires. Teasing until her body’s uncontrollable reaction to his cyber presence left her wondering if it was the words he typed that caused her excitement or merely the fact that it was he that had written them.
Mimicing the indirect attacks of his chesspiece, he had refined his guerilla tactic of the sudden disappearance mid-way through an interaction, leaving her disturbed and uneasy for several days. Allowing her time and space to regain her equilibrium before returning to unsettle her all over again.
They were playing with fire and it only remained to be seen which one of them would be more badly burned.
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