Changing Anna
2
What have I done?
Synopsis of the story so far.
Aaron has a beauty of a wife who he thinks has only one tiny flaw: she’s shy around others. His unorthodox solution is to convince her to flirt with strange men, and he’s ecstatic it works. Now he has a confident wife who functions easily socially. Great. Then on vacation he convinces her it would be fun to see how her flirting skills could be applied to an attempted pick-up at a bar.
What could go wrong?
To read the first segment of Changing Anna here is a link.
Changing Anna 2
After ordering I looked toward the door, waiting for her to appear. She turned a few heads as she stepped inside and glanced around, then slowly walked through the room, a poised and beautiful young woman. Pausing, she again scanned the room’s interior. Finally she spotted me and made her way over. In a minute she was seated at my side, leaving the third stool by the wall vacant, ready for our victim. I ignored her as she ordered a Virgin Mary and waited. Nothing happened immediately, making me momentarily question our location. Though sitting at the main bar might have been better, I was worried the increased noise and activity would prevent me from hearing much.
So we waited.
It wasn’t until she’d returned from visiting the toilet that a distinguished looking gentleman, who seemed to be late middle-aged by the grey in his hair, took the empty stool. Damn, I thought, he’s way too old. On the other hand he appeared to be in good shape…though he wasn’t all that tall. Anna told me once the first thing she liked about me was my height. Okay; that could constitute another strike against him. He appeared refined but wasn’t all that good looking. Still, I could see Anna being attracted to him anyway. His expensive, tailored suit showed he was obviously successful. Not sure how she’d be affected by that.
Watching Anna in the bar’s large mirror, I tried to guess what she’d think. Just as I suspected, she wasn’t acknowledging his presence. Despite some of the things she might like, I just couldn’t see her playing the game with him. He was just too old. Sighing, I became reconciled that this wasn’t going to work out as planned. She’d probably want to leave when she finished her drink.
A few minutes later I was surprised when she held up her glass for a refill. Did that mean she was willing to play our game with him after all?
The stranger turned to her and spoke.
“May I ask what you are ordering?” he inquired in a pleasant baritone.
Oh, she’ll like his voice, I thought. Very manly.
”I do so because I’m interested in the etymological puzzle that surrounds the naming of cocktails. Perhaps your selection might have an interesting history.”
My demure wife gave him an appraising stare before replying, “I’ve only a limited knowledge of mixed drinks. Normally I leave it to the bartender.”
He appeared shocked into silence. When he finally did speak it sounded like he were preparing to save her from a fate worse than death; his voice taking on the tone of a schoolmaster lecturing his student.
“A cocktail should express some aspect of the recipient’s personality, I’ve always thought. Unlike a whiskey, which is dependent on the aging process to create its unique taste on the palate, a mixed drink depends on the ingredients and skillful combination thereof to create a unique taste experience.”
I examined this nattily attired stranger anew. You’re definitely not warm and fuzzy, I thought, concluding his haughty manner would probably turn Anna off.
Her response surprised me.
“Umm,” she quietly replied, “sophisticated and erudite.” She smiled while her gaze continued to examine him. “I guess I can trust a man who possesses that combination of traits.”
I was impressed with my wife’s witty comeback. And if she was willing to forgive his haughty manner, so was I. Taking a sip of my beer I settled in, prepared to be entertained after all.
The stranger responded by ordering something he said was unique; a Blushing Rose. “The name reminds me of an old flame who appeared as innocent as you but proved to be charmingly salacious.”
Anna looked at him in askance, arching an eyebrow but remaining silent, I suppose, while she contemplated a response to his comment. She’d probably shut him down for insinuating she had a tawdry side to her nature.
When the drink arrived she sipped it, her look indicating she hadn’t been offended by his risqué remark after all. “It’s nice,” she said, then gave him a sweet, innocent smile that was completely at odds with her next words, “Just how wanton was she?”
He laughed. You could see he was pleased at her response and change in demeanor. I marveled that his opening spiel had so easily broken the ice between them. Using a reference to an old girlfriend was a little risky, I thought, but he’d gotten away with it. I admired him for that. It seemed we’d attracted a man experienced at approaching women.
He began recounting some of his exploits with his old fling. Luckily, they spoke just loud enough for me to make out what was said. But soon it appeared Anna had decided to seriously play our game. She explained she had a minor hearing loss and asked him to move closer. He did until they were almost touching. I was impressed. Asking him to do that was brilliant. She’d subtly indicated she was interested in a way that also allowed me to better follow his part of their conversation.
I listened as he continued his charm offensive by flattering her on everything from her outfit to her hair. I recognized it as harmless patter meant to ingratiate himself to her, but I didn’t think it would. Then too, maybe he could get to her with his almost antiquated approach. After all, Anna was pretty inexperienced around men like him and had never been in a situation like this before.
When he asked how she came to be alone in a bar, she replied her date had apparently stood her up. His hand stroked hers in sympathy, then traveled up her bare arm to her inner elbow and began to idly caress that sensitive juncture. Anna gave him a sharp glance but let him keep it there.
I thought he was attempting intimacy too quickly and expected her to end it. After all, he’d touched her. Wouldn’t she think that went beyond flirting? But she accepted his continued stroking, so I guess she didn’t. A thrill went through me. My wife was letting a stranger touch her in a way she normally would have thought inappropriate.
This was what I wanted to see when I’d convinced her to play this game. I was glad she didn’t stop him and was tickled when she responded with another tease.
Stroking the fabric of his tie she smiled and said, “Such formal attire in an establishment as pedestrian as this. I’ve always understood if you wanted to be successful at attracting women you should seek to blend in.”
He laughed, then answered, “I’m in town on business and haven’t yet had time to change. But I disagree with your assessment of my attire. In nature, the male always displays the more elaborate plumage when seeking to influence a desirable female. Why shouldn’t that be the case with the male of our species?”
“You do stand out, I’ll give you that. That would be to your advantage if I were susceptible to a man’s plumage.” I saw my wife lower her head slightly and break eye contact. Ah, I thought, acting coy. “You’ll have to guess if I am…or not.” Then, as if to show him it just might have, her manner changed when she laughingly quipped, “Though I will admit you do look very nice, handsome even.”
Damn, I thought, my wife’s good!
After more small talk he bought her another cocktail, a rather obscure one named Sex On The Beach. “It’s one,” he explained, “created for those closer to your age.” Then he followed up in a low, suggestive voice, “It makes me think of spirited, bikini-clad young ladies out for fun.”
“And is this a result of another fond memory?” Anna bantered back, then floored me when she added, almost offhandedly, “But honestly, it doesn’t have to be on the beach, after too many cocktails I’ll have sex just about anywhere.”
I squirmed in my seat at that. Was Anna insinuating she’d be susceptible to his advances if she were in an inebriated state? That would definitely give him ideas. Had she intentionally done that or was it just a nervous reaction to his suave assault? I’d have to reevaluate my assumptions about Anna’s inexperience. Maybe she wasn’t quite as naive as I’d assumed.
All in all though, I thought she was doing great playing the flirting game. This was really getting to be fun. I loved that she was able to give as good as she got, but it worried me when she accepted that second drink. Normally Anna limited her alcohol consumption to one mixed drink per night. Because of her weight, any more began to make her tipsy.
Over the next ten or so minutes I found out that was the case. Her responses weren’t quite as crisp; she even occasionally puzzled over the selection of an appropriate word to use. Nothing obvious, but I knew my wife well enough to see that the extra alcohol was affecting her. It occurred to me if I could tell she was becoming buzzed surely he knew. I contemplated speaking out, but didn’t. I just couldn’t bring myself to embarrass her by revealing our game.
My silence came with a cost though. By letting it continue I risked him escalating his efforts. His next actions confirmed that fear. After receiving a somewhat disjointed response to one of his questions he smoothly reached over and gently stroked her cheek, commenting she possessed a certain bien dans sa peau he found fascinating.
She tilted her head and frowned as she struggled to remember enough high school French to puzzle out the meaning of the phrase. He smiled indulgently and explained she exuded a certain something, an ineffable quality that was quite appealing. Then he cupped her chin and turned her face to his. She gave him an inquiring look, to which he responded by gently kissing her.
I almost gave the show away then. That was clearly getting intimate on his part. Anna would act now, I was sure. She’d have to, that was our agreement. But her reaction wasn’t what I expected. The little vixen let him get away with it! She didn’t kiss him back as far as I could tell but she didn’t stop him either. Dammit, why not was all I could think. The game should be over. He’d clearly gotten intimate. I wanted her to slap his face, get up and leave.
Instead, it seemed my wife was going to let it go on, and I felt helpless to stop it.
The next installment is here: Changing Anna 3
A note to my readers.
I’m new here. I’ve written for years but have chosen to remain unpublished until now. This series is dear to me, being my first effort at an exposure to such a wide audience. Please give me a clap, or better still, comment. I appreciate it.
