The Fine Art of Flirting

As those of us who write and read historicals novels know, flirting was one of the fine arts practiced by women in the days of yore. Chaste won over brazen. Touches were fleeting yet, if performed in a certain way, stoked fires of anticipation and desire. Dare the heroine lift her skirt and give the gentleman a peek of her ankle, whether or not she was climbing the stairs? Would she become bold enough to wiggle her pinkie at a prospective suitor while tipping her teacup? Could a turn of her head float her flirtatious laughter over to the man of her most romantic dreams?

Since I’m now again a single woman, I’ve been back into the flirting game and enjoying every minute. One thing I will note, though, is how what one’s partner deems harmless flirting can be immensely hurtful to his significant other. Hurtful and devastating. After all, flirting isn’t without an invitation—be it one boldly lettered or more demurely decorated—designed to attract the attention of someone in whom we’re interested. I’m a firm believer that flirting should be more about the coy than the commando tactics. Choose your flirting subjects wisely, as we live in a fascinating but dangerous world, and be prepared for the delicious results that may follow your wild ways. Married men and men I know have significant others are always forbidden flirting territory.

For me, flirting begins with the eyes. After making brief eye contact, I know whether or not I want to continue the game or move on. If he holds my gaze, this is a sign to take flirting to the next level. While across the room is great for scoping out men with whom I may develop a deeper relationship, closer proximity allows me to trot out my flirting techniques. During a discussion of the economy or a sporting event, I slowly glide my fingers over his lower arm or touch the back of his hand while maintaining eye contact. Sometimes I press my fingers against the back of his wrist to take his radial pulse. In the event he further piques my interest, and I his, we find a place away from the crowd. If we’re enjoying a private conversation and some canapés, I tap the toe of my stiletto or sandal against his calf. Only once. If he moves closer, my flirting shifts into higher gear. When sipping from my glass, I run my tongue around the rim, again while looking him in the eye. If he whets his lips or flares his nostrils, I move closer. By now, my mouth is watering and I’m drinking in more of him than my beverage of choice. Basically it’s a dance. A progression of delightful steps that will hopefully find us on the dance floor or sharing a toe-curling kiss before the evening ends. Before we part ways I know if the flirting has simply proved a fun pursuit for the evening or will lead to future encounters with the guy who’s no longer a sexy stranger. Over the past hour—but who’s keeping track of time, anyway?—he’s told me about himself and I’ve reciprocated. He helps me on with my coat, takes my hand and walks me to my car. We make a date to meet at our favorite coffee shop or part ways wearing smiles. No matter how much I’m attracted, I never give out my phone number to a guy I’ve met for the first time. And we make a date for a future meeting on neutral territory for safety sake. What makes flirting fun is a woman never knows how the story will end. She simply hopes for more chapters in what will become a lifelong romance.

While in Manhattan recently, I flirted with several men, including the handsome guy who helped me with my suitcase at the train station. Someday the timing will be right and those playful interludes will lead to more passionate, and lasting, ones. Flirting can definitely lead to forevers!

Wishing you all many happy reading moments,

Shawna Moore
TORMENTED -- Ellora's Cave
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave Exotika
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave Exotika
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Coming April 29 to EC Exotika
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