You Are So Alluring, Quiet Man

As long as this story is, there is eventually a point to its end. It's just getting there that is tedious.

I don't know what I was expecting from Quiet Man, nor had I figured out what he wanted from me. I was convinced it was something, but I was not sure what.

I knew one thing, I was going to find out as elusive as he was.

The evening of the celebration was more of a cocktail party at some local offices. It was still late fall and I decided to change from pants into a split front skirt with a ribbed turtleneck that just hit at my waist along with brown tights and a pair of matching color high heeled yet conservative suede shoes. I like those shoes, since they had an elongated and semi squared toe. I pulled back my hair so it cascaded down my back yet sat a bit high on my head. My make up was demure to go along with the outfit. The fuchsia lipstick was replaced by a coppery red.

I entered the offices from the ground floor.

The room everyone was congregated in was a bit small because of the secretarial sections took up most of the real estate, creating an elongated middle that was sort of like a runway of sorts, leading to offices and then wrapping around into a horsehoe shaped floor plan.

As I entered, Fred who was facing the door, called me over immediately. He greeted me kindly as always and introduced me to the man he was speaking to, asking me to guess his identity. I had spotted Quiet Man, again by himself, a bit behind me, holding up the half wall that fronted a secretarial corral.

I hate these guessing games and of course I could not think who this older gentleman was, but it turned out that he knew my father. Oh, what a tacit turn of events that was for Fred. He is easily amused.

As I turned around, Quite Man took a step or two toward me and pulled me to him. He held my hands and kissed me hello as usual.

As crazy and cramped as this set up was, they had waiters going around with what I call snacks, since to say hors d'oeuvres in this setting was ironic.

Quiet Man had quiet an appetite and filled his little plate with everything that came by. We were standing by the door and I started to chat with those who came in.

"Hi Muse" they would say and start to talk.

Quiet Man, who was eating next to me, after about ten to fifteen minutes of this routine, seemed disposed to not have liked it.

He took me across the "aisle" to the next secretarial corral where they had the wine. It was awful. I could not drink it but Quiet Man did not care. We commented it was not like the last wine they served at the home of the man with the famous mother. Eh, what could you do?

Though I do not at this writing remember the particulars of what Quiet Man and I talked about, he was a bit different; more open, talkative and animated with me. He focused his attention on me and only me. If someone interrupted us to speak to me, he would just look at them or look away.

After he had his fill of snacks, he wanted to move. He directed me to go down the aisle to see if there was somewhere we could talk by ourselves. We arrived at the round of the horseshoe and one room was open with the cake on a table, but there was no one it the room. I did not want to go there, because someone would eventually come in. I wanted to turn back, but Quiet Man did not. He then went ahead of me to continue on and turned to face me to encourage me to follow him.

I looked at him waiting for me to join him. He was strong and kind, and sweet. Gentle. And it was nice.

We went down the other end of the horsehoe which was a hall with rooms off of it. He entered the one on the right which was filled with a few people. I knew them but did not care for them. They all looked up at us when we entered the room. I did not care to stay and Quiet Man was ready to make himself comfortable. I indicated to him I wanted to leave, whispering to him it was not a place to have a conversation that would be listened to like nobody's business.

We explored quickly the other rooms from the hallway and none were satisfactory. As we made our way around, Quiet Man settled on a hallway corner across from the door to the cocktail party and next to the entrance doors.

He got me a seat to use, and we balanced our drinks on the half wall.

Quiet Man was conversing with me enthusiastically and yet very quietly. He came so close to me that only my knees where the only thing that kept him from getting closer. He had his back to everyone, just enjoying our conversation.

I must have been giddy. I don't remember, but his conduct was more than melting my usual cool exterior. I must have had an eternal and broad smile while sitting on that stool.

Quite Man was dressed casual and in brown, an unusual dark reddish sort of brown, that looked good on him. His height and imposing figure, for me, made me feel at ease and protected. I enjoyed sitting in that corner with my back against the wall and with Quiet Man at my knees.

After a while, he again took the lead and asked me to go outside with him. He wanted to smoke.

We were standing by the front entrance. When we got out there, Quiet Man was smiling at me. He was leaning over a post with his forearms and he tilted his head back. I remember talking at a furious pace about something since he made me nervous. As I was blathering on, I watched his eyes as they examined my chest down to my feet and back up again to look into my eyes.

I felt my face flush like a school girl. And I laughed. The attraction was strong and lingering. I had felt embarrassed that there I was, as he, I knew, with the white elephant of attraction between us.

The worst choice for that night was for him to pick the front entrance to smoke. As more and more people where entering and saying hello to me, I was also saying good bye to a good deal of them, while standing with Quiet Man in the same spot as when they came.

I knew they were staring because they must have thought, who is this man Muse is with? They must have thought as I did, that he looked, sinister. They had to because they would speak to me and quickly dart their eyes to look at him.

"Still here, Muse?" they would ask.

"Yes, why not?" I replied, while hoping they would not notice us more than in passing.

Quite Man was telling me about he and Fred's latest business interest. They were bidding on a gentleman's club. He asked me if he looked the type to own such an establishment. I told him he did not and Fred was more the type. He laughed and laughed and made me promise that I had to tell Fred.

A bit later, Fred had come outside looking for Quiet Man.

"Tell him, tell him!" Quiet Man pleaded.

Fred was interested in what was about to be told to him.

I laughed and refused, so Quiet Man told him and had a good laugh about Fred looking more the gentleman club owner that himself.

"Oh, no- you think that Muse? Me more than Quiet Man?"

"Oh, definitely," I told Fred, "You just have that look."

Fred laughed at the comparison.

Then, they had to leave Fred said. Quiet Man agreed, saying they had a meeting at 7 pm with the owner's of the gentleman's club at the Hilton. Fred apologized profusely.

"Muse, I am sorry. We have business. We are late, Muse. So Sorry," he pandered.

Quite Man genuinely apologized, probably noticing my disappointment in his imminent departure from me.

He reached over to me to embrace and kiss me good bye. Fred leaned over and did the same.

"Can I have your card?" asked Quiet Man.

That annoyed me since I gave him my card at our first meeting. But, I did not remind him of that and gave him another. He examined the card, looking at it and put it away.

"I will call you," he said, "tomorrow."

"Ok" was all I could say while thinking he told me at our first departure he was going to come to my office to visit with me, which he did not.

"Are you returning inside?" he asked.

"No, I will be leaving as well. I am tired."

"Can I walk you to your car?" he offered.

"No," I said, "I can get there myself."

We parted in opposite directions.

And that is how it ended for that night.