Make Him Crave You This time is going to be different, Miriam coached her reflection as she dressed. She was determined that Richard’s dinner invitation would be the beginning of the end of a long dry spell. This time I am ready. He had swung by her desk on the way to the mailroom Wednesday and casually asked if she had plans for Friday evening. She was too caught up in the smell of his aftershave to calculate whether The Rules guide to dating etiquette would consider his proposal too last minute. She caught herself blushing and shrugging out a “No.” “How ‘bout dinner at Antonio’s then? Say, eight o’clock?” He flashed her a lopsided grin and winked his spidery eyelashes. “I think I just might like to see what the outside-of-work Miriam is like.” Then he loped back down the hall, leaving her alone with her adding machine. Well, so what if The Rules girls wouldn’t approve? She had a date for Friday night -- her first in months. And Richard was so handsome in a tall, lanky sort of way. Maybe it is time to give The Rules girls the boot, anyway. All they’ve ever gotten me is a string of long weekends alone. Still, she did not feel ready to navigate her first date without some sort of guidance, some structure to follow. So, when she found a dog-eared issue of Cosmopolitan underneath a box of doughnuts in the break room, it seemed like the fates were dealing her a winning hand for a change. On the cover, a model in a skimpy bikini pouted beneath a headline that screamed, “Make Him Crave You: Seven Sexy Secrets to Make Him Yours.” Just what she needed. That night, she pored over the magazine as she worked her way through a pint of Chubby Hubby. The women in the article testified to the success rate of each seductive tip, and Miriam tingled with excitement. At last I will find Mr. Right instead of Mr. Right Now. She couldn’t wait for Friday. 1. Go commando in hip-hugging, body-skimming pants. Then drop your pencil, checkbook or keys, and bend for his benefit. At about seven the big night, Miriam was lying on her bed, shimmying into a pair of leather bell-bottoms. Like everything else in her closet, the pants were a bit snug around the middle, to remind her (or so her mother said) of how much better her life would be if she could just drop a few pounds. After much grunting and pulling and crying, she eased the zipper up and buttoned the top button. Not bad. She tugged at her leopard-print blouse and examined herself in the mirror. Her stomach rolled over her waistband and the bulge of her thighs strained against the pants’ seams, but she knew the effect was worth it when Richard rang the doorbell half an hour later. “Well... That’s... an unusual outfit,” he stuttered. Now for the clincher. She dropped her keys on the carpet. As she bent to pick them up, she heard a slight popping sound behind her. Must be his eyes popping out of his head. She straightened and caught him blushing. “Ummm... Do you have a long coat, Miriam? It’s kind of chilly out. In fact, it’s going to be kind of chilly in the restaurant, too, so you might want to keep it on all night.” Miriam reached for the parka in her hall closet, but Richard was already slipping a trench coat over her shoulders. Such a gentleman! 2. Giggle, and when he asks you what you’re thinking about, smile and say, “Nothing.” Richard whistled for a cab with a shrill fweep and held the door as Miriam climbed inside. He looked at her for a moment and Miriam thought he was about to say something, but he only coughed. “Hee hee hee,” she tittered, twisting her purse strap in her hands. “What are you laughing at?” “Hee hee hee,” she giggled, louder than before. “Nothing.” 3. To make him really swoon, find an excuse to draw attention to your mouth. The waiting list at Antonio’s was already three pages long when they arrived, so Richard suggested they sit at the bar until their party was called. He ordered a whisky sour for Miriam and two martinis for himself, gulping the first one down with a shudder. “This is nice,” Richard said, looking around the dimly lighted bar. Miriam fished the maraschino cherry out of her drink and placed it on a cocktail napkin. “Don’t like cherries?” Richard asked. Miriam smiled. “Oh, I cherries. In fact, I can tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue. I’ll show you,” she winked. “Miriam, that’s not really necessary.” Although she hadn’t done it since the seventh grade, she snapped off the stem and popped it into her mouth. It grew soft and malleable as she rolled it around her tongue, and she slipped it easily into a knot. “Ta-daa!” she squealed around the knotted stem. But Richard was picking the salt off some pretzels and not looking at her. “I thaid, ta-daa!” She tapped him lightly on the arm just as a couple walking by stumbled into her stool. She gasped in surprise and the stem lodged in her throat. “Ack! Ack! Ack!” She could feel herself turning purple. Richard leapt from his seat, grabbed her around the waist and with one mighty squeeze, the cherry stem flew out of her throat and across the bar, landing in a carafe of white wine. “Are you all right?” Richard asked, smoothing her hair back from her face. “Hee hee hee,” Miriam giggled. Richard jumped to his feet and slipped some folded bills into the maitre d’s palm, whispering, “Please, get us in and out as soon as you can.” They were quickly seated. 4. Roll your head from side to side. This is a clear invitation to a back rub -- an offer he’ll be dying to make. “The pasta here is excellent,” Richard said as he opened the menu and smiled at her over the flickering candle on the table. “Why don’t I order for both of us?” “That sounds wonderful,” Miriam purred. Then she exhaled, shut her eyes and rolled her head slowly from her right shoulder to her left and back again. She paused, resting a cheek against one shoulder, and opened her eye just enough to see Richard staring at her. It’s working! “Miriam... Are you all right?” “Hee hee hee,” she giggled. 5. At a restaurant, lose the fork in favor of your fingers. Look him in the eye while you seductively suck off any excess salt or sauce. Richard and Miriam had been picking at the bread basket in nervous silence for almost twenty minutes before their waiter finally appeared with two steaming plates of fettuccine Alfredo. Miriam watched as Richard concentrated on twirling his pasta onto his fork. “I guarantee this is the creamiest sauce you’ve ever tasted.” The air was thick with cheese and garlic and marinara, and Miriam’s stomach growled beneath the bulge of her waistband. “Go on... Try some,” Richard swallowed and reached for a roll. Her hand lingered over her fork for a moment before knocking the utensil to the floor. She picked up a noodle that had been dangling over the edge of her plate and coiled it around her index finger. The sauce slid lazily down her knuckles as she licked and slurped the pasta off her hand. “Mmmmm... You’re right! It is wonderful,” she cooed between fist and mouthfuls. Richard, she noticed, had stopped eating to watch her. So had a few of the other patrons in the restaurant. Miriam giggled and rolled her head from side to side again. Oddly enough, Richard barely touched the rest of his dinner. 6. Use your mane to make him your main man. Toss, flaunt and play with your hair, and he’ll be dying to run his hands through it. As the waiter poured their after-dinner coffees, Miriam couldn’t help noticing that Richard was looking a little haggard. “So, Richard,” she breathed, “tell me more about the exciting world of purchasing.” She raked a hand through her hair and batted her eyelashes. “You’ve got some sauce in your hair,” he handed her his napkin. “Well, I wouldn’t really call it exciting, Miriam. It’s a living. What I’d really like to do is play the saxophone.” “Oh? I didn’t even know you could play.” She twirled a lock of hair around her finger and leaned across the table. “I’d love to hear you sometime.” “Actually, I don’t play. Not yet. It’s just been a dream of mine to learn.” Richard smiled a crooked, almost embarrassed little smile and seemed to relax a little. Miriam leaned in closer and tossed her hair behind her shoulder. “You know what I dream about?” There was an odd crackling sound to her left and the acrid smell of something burning. Richard’s face suddenly went white. “Miriam, your…” he choked. “I dream about you,” she giggled shyly. Richard lunged across the table and grabbed her water glass, dumping the contents onto her head. “Good Lord, Miriam! Your hair’s on fire!” The wait staff and maitre d’ rushed to her aid, knocking Richard aside to douse her careful coiffure and shouting for patrons to clear the way. The fire was out in a matter of moments and only singed the hair on the left side of her head, which was not her best side anyway. “My hero,” she fluttered, helping Richard to his feet. “You know Miriam, I had planned to take you to see the new James Bond flick, but now I think maybe I should just get you home.” Ooo la la. I’ve got him now. 7. Don’t give in to those throbbing loins. Keep your goodbye chaste and sweet and he will be panting to take you out for date No. 2. “Well... it’s been... an unusual evening,” Richard stammered as he backed down the hall of Miriam’s apartment building. “Yes, I had a lovely time,” Miriam murmured. She giggled and threw in an extra head roll for good measure. “Well... I’ll call you,” Richard said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before he sprinted away. Miriam sighed and leaned against the doorframe of her apartment, watching him leave. Oh, yes. He wants me.
Copyright © 2001 Jennifer L O'callaghan |