Eyes meet in what seems to be a mutual exchange of attraction. He smiles suggestively at her, her eyes are quick to pull away. “A gesture of shy interest,” he tells himself, “I know she wants me”. He fixes his gaze wondering when her resolve will break, forcing her to look again. In time she manages a fleeting glance. This time her expression seems to wear a look of discomfort. “What’s that all about” he thinks, “she is overwhelmed by my awesome presence? Must be.”
He pursues her, eyes as the hunter, refusing to let her out of his sight. “She enjoys the chase,” he says, “she needs to know that she is worthy game”. He positions himself suggestively so that she will see that his interest is her. Each time their eyes meet she looks more concerned, her body shifts uneasily as she tries to escape, yet she cannot shake off his visual advances.
All this only fuels his fire, he wants her to know he is fighting for her, that when he takes physical possession of her she will feel that she has indeed been won. She can bear it no more, her space has been invaded and her only choice is to leave. He has stolen something from her and she feels powerless in this place. Before he knows it she has gone. “Women are so fickle,” he mumbles in disbelief, “they play like they want you and then they just run!”