[The Shifters Committee 05.0] Sensual Hero

by Rebecca Foxx

"Alright then. I have no objections," mildly smiled Stephanie.

  "Starry night... I love it even more, because I know that this was produced by an artist, who needed so much to be loved like any other human being, but he was never loved. And yet, even having no greatest inspiration like being loved, he created something that could last for ages."

  "Edgar Allan Poe's words can refer to him as well."And all I loved..." said Stephanie. But the sentence was finished by him.

  "... I loved alone," concluded Jean.

  They looked at the painting, but actually they were looking into each other. Their silence in which mutual understanding and warm feelings were being born was interrupted by Maria.

  "You must be our guide!" said Maria in the way that even if it was not so, that would be hard for anyone to deny it.

  "I am, friends," he said, "I will accompany you today. Just call me Jean."

  "I have always adored this French open hearted nature to speak and behave!" said Edward whose sexual orientation was apparent from his manners. He was a nice and emotional guy, who made active use of his hands while talking and he talked enthusiastically about almost everything.

  "Thank you, it is honor for me to entertain people around the world, to present my culture, and if you think you are the one to get pleasure and knowledge, you are mistaken. We, tour guides, actually learn so much every day by tourists," said Jean.

  After warm atmosphere was created due to presentation and mutual compliments, the marvelous walking tour around the hall started. He was true master of art, Stephanie thought. Soon she was not listening to what he was saying, but was simply enjoying his deep masculine voice uttering words that did not matter at that moment.

  She was exploring his hand movements, that were indicating this or that painting and sometimes scratching his forehead.

  And even if he was trying to share his attention between them four, his gaze was far more concentrated on her. Her gaze was sometimes escaping like that of the deer willing to approach, but not feeling brave enough yet.

  How mature, charming, classic and innocent she is, he was thinking.

  When they were to leave, Jean asked Maria out for a moment. Stephanie felt confused and felt she had been hallucinating about his possible interest.

  "I noticed how he was looking at Maria all this time," said Edward with naughty smile.

  "Really? How?" asked Stephanie feeling her heart sinking deeper in disappointment and all her soul burning.

  "Interested, passionate, as if he was talking with her with more than words, but through eyes as well," added Edward in emotional stress.

  "You would be a good writer with vivid fantasy," noticed Benjamin, who felt Edward's manners of extreme excitement to be inadequate for the situation.

  "I have been told this and not once," said Edward ignoring the sarcastic remark and apparently receiving it as a compliment.

  "You had better stop inventing funny stories. He just asked her out of the hall probably for some sensible reason. It is 21st century, he could just talk with her about his interest at our presence," said Benjamin.

  His words sounded so sweet for Esther's ears. She was feeling her soul burning more.

  "It is French nature: to be this mystic and romantic. They still appreciate the importance of being classic," summed up Edward, and Benjamin felt no wish to go on arguing with him.

  When Maria came, she came alone. And she looked happy. Benjamin was expecting to see something very different, at least calm and cool expression common to her face, so that he could be the winner in the argument. Edward went on looking at her in his naughty gaze, that seemed to shout "We know what you have done, little naughty creature."

  And Stephanie's heart was beating, in a minute she felt herself the silliest woman in the world. But Maria did not tell anything. However, her happy and crazy smile seemed to prove that she had managed to interest him. That expression is so common to women when they are in love or just have done something forbidden and feel no regret. The second was excepted, the first was very much possible.

  When they were on the way back to hotel, Stephanie was silently looking out of window of the taxi. She first accused herself being so damn romantic and silly to expect love, when there was no apparent sign for it.

  Then she accused herself of being that stubborn and refusing to have a cup of coffee with him, or helping her catch a taxi. She regretted of staying so cold and unreachable, denying her own growing interest for him and keeping distance.

  You will die never getting over this, just keeping to punish yourself for trusting the wrong people in past. You will never let anyone really deserving your love to penetrate into your soul. You will never give a chance to yourself and other man to bring you into life, she repeated in her mind.

  And while closing the door of the taxi and directing her steps to the hotel with her friends, Stephanie noticed that she had lost her scarf. But she could not remember where and when. So she never went back to cafe.

  She never called Jean for the scarf. But what happened at midnight made her night and whole life truly starry.

  Part 3 - Around a flying table

  Isn't it strange that awareness many times arrives when you expect it less?

  Thoughts come when you are in most unlikely places for that, for instance under the shower, while looking out of the window of your room or waiting for a bus. Bathroom at hotel was not the best relaxation place, especially when she was sharing it with her colleague.

  When Stephanie asked Maria why Jean asked her out for a while, she tried to distract her interest with other topic. So Stephanie, being tired after a busy day, went to have a hot shower. It was raining, not as hard as it would in London, but still it made many people open their umbrellas.

  Approaching to the window with her hair completely wet and covered with a towel, she saw many dancing umbrellas below. Stephanie was alone in the room and felt that never in her life she had felt so much inspiration. She turned her laptop on.

  Music list in her smart phone and laptop was reigned by Ludovico Einaudi's fine piano. A divine piece of music called Oltremare was playing simultaneously with the sounds of rain that were beating the busy streets.

  Her long tender fingers began to run over the keyboard producing what she had not been capable even to think before. Words were arriving without invitation, thoughts were born between black and white. Her inspiration covered almost twenty sheets during 2 hours when she suddenly got surprised to see how fast her emotions consumed the time and sheets.

  However, her writing could not be described as optimistic and positive, it was rather the reflection of her depressed soul with details about waltz of black umbrellas, timid smiles, helpless piano and need to give up loneliness that had become a habit to survive but never live. She turned her laptop off.

  "I wonder where they have disappeared. They told they would be playing billiard in sport hall, but it would be strange if they were still there," murmured Stephanie, but then her wondering was interrupted on time by a phone call.

  Maria called and told her to go down to the restaurant where they were waiting for her to start dining. She put her dress on. Moreover, as if wanting to break her habits of sadness or stressful atmosphere, she put on a red lipstick.

  While she was doing it, she remembered Jean's hot gaze, his sincere and open manners, she felt that she would really like to put on a red lipstick for a particular man. And that man was exactly him. Soon Stephanie appeared in the restaurant in white satin dress, her hair casually gathered behind, with red lipstick that made her full sensuous lips look ripe and tasty.

  Women look best when they dress for themselves. Stephanie looked fantastic, like a white rose that had a passionate soul. Indeed, she was a rose that had stings, but if one wanted to enjoy roses, than he had to deal with stings. That's how Jean was thinking when he had planned this evening with Maria's help. So Stephanie did not find anyone from her colleagues and looked around confused when she heard a soft familiar voice.


  "Good evening, Stephanie," she heard.

  It was Jean. He was dressed to attract, he looked elegant and noble. His smile took her far away from the stony walls of the restaurant. She took the big red rose he gave her. The cool summer breeze instead of the rain, the most romantic sensations instead of depressive thoughts, and more inspiration with already existing one just poured in the restaurant hall, which suddenly became dark. But she could still see the shape of his face through the mild light of candles shining on every table.

  "Good evening, Jean," Stephanie whispered totally lost in the overwhelming feelings of happiness.

  Jean took her hand, and they left the restaurant. Her heart was beating from excitement. No man in her life had ever made her feel like a princess, like a queen. Nevertheless, this stranger, hardly knowing her, had an entire plan to turn her night into a life dream. They were looking at each other amazed and crazily in love in the taxi that was rushing up at the highest speed.

  When it stopped, he said to her with his tender masculine voice: "Trust me, please..." He took her scarf out of his pocket, and she wondered what other surprises she was going to face in a single night.

  He wrapped the scarf around her head, closing her eyes. And taking her hand, penetrated into the space out. She had no idea, where she was but she could feel the breathtaking summer breeze that was kissing her hair. They entered a building and she felt how an elevator took them up.

  When it stopped, he carefully helped her cut the hall with slow but determined and confident steps. Stephanie heard people talking in French about things she had no idea about. But there were not many, however the noise of just awakening night city was heard.

  They moved ahead and her heart was sinking, for a moment she even thought that it would burst out from so much emotions. All that time, her eyes being closed, she felt confident feeling his hand, knowing he was there by her side. Whole night she felt to be made from satin that was tenderly caressing all her senses.

  And then Jean asked her to sit, and she sat carefully on the soft pillow. She wondered where they were as it was high time for her to open her eyes. Stephanie knew that it was somewhere under the sky, that there was no ceiling above. She thought the place must be on the roof of some hotel.

  However, when his fingers slowly and with great care and compassion, opened her eyes, freeing her from the scarf, she cried from ecstasy! They were not even on the building! They were in sky! They were sitting around a flying dinner table! Unbelievable! They were more than 50 meters high! The scene of Eifel tower and burning night city below and the starry sky above was taking her breath away.

  She was laughing and expressing her gratefulness for such divine experience to the man sitting in front of her and enjoying her happiness. A magnificent supper consisted of fresh lobsters with select shellfish in summer vegetables, heads of fresh bulbs mixed with herbs in bubbly, light vinaigrette and Domaine Leflaive Montrachet Grand Cru wine. Did all those things say anything to her?

  Yes, it prompted her that he must have a fine taste to have such a unique dining experience, that all those fragile shining tableware, the scene of Eifel tower so close and high, the marvelously smelling dishes and color of wine could speak about him being quite delicate.

  Even though Stephanie understood that all that was not a cheap pleasure, it must not be too expensive as well. Before her she was seeing a humble man working as a tour guide, a good citizen, a young man in his early thirties, who had met a simple girl like her and fallen in love.

  He must have spent all his earnings saved up for some months to afford him the pleasure of pleasing her. There was a firework in her soul. And he could see the colorful fire flakes in her eyes. It was all that he wanted for the evening. And also he was burning from desire to know her. He had already succeeded in knowing happy Stephanie, an enthusiastic woman who first appeared him to be balanced and classic yet passionate inside.

  While the table and their chairs were flying, the stars were shining brighter. They were creating a truly sincere atmosphere her to open up her heart to the man who needed it the evening to be perfect.

  "I know little about you," said Jean. "I know that you do not feel at ease to trust me. Please, do not think that I wander in pubs, cafes, clubs, and museums to meet women and flirt with them. Never before, I had approached any woman to ask her out. Actually I am shier than you think."

  His sweet laugh while telling the last sentence made her relax. She lacked the necessary words to tell how badly she needed to trust someone in the world after swallowing a great deal of pills and staying at hospital for some time. She did not feel at ease to tell a man during their first date that she had been seeing her psychologist for a year. That she did not, in fact, feel herself to be completely recovered. Her hands began to tremble. Jean pretended he did not notice that.

  But he knew that the woman sitting in front of her was not experiencing the best period of her life. He did not insist on her telling her story. However, after some minutes, enjoying the light of stars and his warm smile that was encouraging her, she opened up like a flower who felt the rays of sun on her face. Of, course, she did not tell how much she hated closeness, and how far she wanted to find herself from those who kissed, keeping a knife behind.

  Weren't there any good aspects about her life of 27 years, she wondered. Her mind travelled in space and time of her lifelong experiences to start with something hopeful and something good.

  "Well, I was born and bred in Rome, Italy. My mother is Latvian and my father is German. I have a sister. I am 27 years old, and I am a writer. I have managed to publish a book, leave for another city to live apart from my family and to start a new job." And she laughed, then continued with trembling voice, "I am speaking like a member of psychological support group, introducing herself in the driest and most unappealing way..."

  "No, your words and voice appeal to me. You are not like other women, Stephanie... When you talk I feel that you actually mean more than you speak. Your mindset interests me even though I have not had the luck to listen to you as much as I would like to. Trust me, I want to know you," said Jean.

  "If I am frank with you, soon you will not think so, Jean. I still feel myself to be broken by my past experience. These are all about disappointments I do not want to tell you. I do not promise that it will be interesting for you. Please, tell me about you, listening is definitely is what I am best at."

  "Well," he smiled, "I am a simple French man, a good citizen, having no political and religious views. Still I do not stay neutral to all the philosophical conversations about them. I am a tour guide who appreciates art. I consider culture, particularly, science and art to be engines and highest missions of homo sapience. You see... I mean self-realization."

  And he stopped his passionate speech and laughed.

  "Nor I am interesting, am I?" he asked.

  "I do not think first dates should be something like a romantic performance in theatres. I enjoy our evening, we are closer to stars and truth," she said feeling that everything she had to write at that moment was dancing on her tender thirsty lips. They felt thirst for intellectual satisfaction, something he perfectly managed to give her.

  "I will tell you this. I hope you will not get me wrong. Let me start with a short preface. There are many women I have slept with, I have been head over hills with them, I have danced, laughed, cried and suffered, but I have always felt a strong need to share my inner world," said Jean and now he became confused in his too frank speech.

  Why should she be interested in his past or the women that had interested her? Is it ethical manner? Wouldn't she get him wrong? Then he continued to speak the lines he strived so much her to know.

  “I had not met any woman that would challenge my interest, mind and soul with her mere sight, before I met you. When I saw you sitting in cafe, I knew that there should be some storm inside of you, the way you were exploring the world outside of the window, under the thick cover of your eyelashes, completely absorbed in yo
ur deep ponderings. And I adored its perfect contrast with your outer peace. I felt how all extremes met in you. You have inborn female tenderness and sexuality, your shy gaze, yet confident answers, your emotional state when you left your shoes, yet your noble manners and intellectual words...all that just penetrated my soul. I feel I have met the woman who I have been looking for all my life."

  Stephanie was swept away by his passionate speech. Jean was an idealist like her. How far can we go to find our ideals? We create a perfect partner in our mind and lose our lives on futile searches of the perfect one. And even when at last we meet them, we do not recognize them, because we are too tired of the long dusty roads. And when we recognize them and offer our hand, heart and all life, out of blue we find out that he or she was not what we had been looking for.

  "Stop thinking, Stephanie!" asked Jean with loud merry voice.

  "Stop being pessimistic, stop worrying; give yourself the chance to believe in my feelings. Do not be afraid of them, just approach tenderly and take care of them, please..." said Jean.