Master the Art of the Bold Move
A moment has arrived: your victim clearly desires you, but is not ready to admit it openly, let alone act on it. This is the time to throw aside chivalry, kindness, and coquetry and to overwhelm with a bold
move. Don’t give the victim time to consider the consequences; create conflict, stir up tension, so that the bold move comesas a great release. Showing hesitation or awkwardness means you are
thinking of yourself, as opposed to being overwhelmed by the victim’s charms. Never hold back or meet the target halfway, under the belief that you are being correct and considerate; you must be seductive now, not political. One person must go on the offensive, and it is you.
It afforded, moreover, another advantage: that of observing at my leisure her charming face, more beautiful than ever, as it proffered the powerful enticement of tears. My blood was on fire, and I
was so little in control of myself that I was tempted to make the most of the occasion. • How weak we must be, how strong the dominion of circumstance, if even I, without a thought for my plans, could risk losing all the charm of a prolonged struggle, all
the fascination of a laboriously administered defeat, by concluding a premature victory; if, distracted by the most puerile of desires, I could be willing that the conqueror of Madame de Tourvel should take nothing for the fruit of his labors but
the tasteless his distinction of having added one
more name to the roll. Ah, let her surrender, but let her fight! Let her be too weak to prevail but strong enough to resist; let her savor the knowledge of
her weakness at her leisure, but let her be unwilling to admit defeat. Leave the humble
poacher to kill the stag where he has surprised it in its hiding place; the true hunter will bring it to bay.
—VICOMTE DE VALMONT, IN CHODERLOS DE LACLOS, DANGEROUS LIAISONS, TRANSLATED BY P.W.K. STONE, IN MICHEL FEHER. ED., THE LIBERTINE READER
The Perfect Climax
Through a campaign of deception—the misleading appearance of a transformation into goodness—the rake Valmont laid siege to the virtuous young Présidente de Tourvel until the day came when, disturbed by his confession of love for her, she insisted he leave the château where both of them were staying as guests. He complied. From Paris, however, he flooded her with letters, describing his love for her in the most intense terms; she begged him to stop, and once again he complied. Then, several weeks later, he paid a surprise visit to the château. In his company Tourvel was flushed and jumpy, and kept her eyes averted—all signs of his effect on her. Again she asked him to leave. What have you to fear? he replied, I have always
done what you have asked, I have never forced myself on you. He kept his distance and she slowly relaxed. She no longer left the room when he entered, and she could look at him directly. When he offered to accompany her on a walk, she did not refuse. They were friends, she said. She even put her arm in his as they strolled, a friendly gesture.
One rainy day they could not take their usual walk. He met her in the hallway as she was entering her room; for the first time, she invited him in.
She seemed relaxed, and Valmont sat near her on a sofa. He talked of his
love for her. She gave the faintest protest. He took her hand; she left it there and leaned against his arm. Her voice trembled. She looked at him, and he felt his heart flutter—it was a tender, loving look. She started to speak
—“Well! yes, I …”—then suddenly collapsed into his arms, crying. It was a
moment of weakness, yet Valmont held himself back. Her crying became convulsive; she begged him to help her, to leave the room before something terrible happened. He did so. The following morning he awoke to some surprising news: in the middle of the night, claiming she was feeling ill, Tourvel had suddenly left the château and returned home.
Valmont did not follow her to Paris. Instead he began staying up late, and using no powder to hide the peaked looks that soon ensued. He went to the chapel every day, and dragged himself despondently around the chateau. He knew that his hostess would be writing to the Présidente, who would hear of his sad state. Next he wrote to a church father in Paris, and asked him to
pass along a message to Tourvel: he was ready to change his life for good. He wanted one last meeting, to say goodbye and to return the letters she had written him over the last few months. The father arranged a meeting, and so, one late afternoon in Paris, Valmont found himself once again alone with Tourvel, in a room in her house.
Don’t you know that however willing, however eager we are to give ourselves, we must
nevertheless have an excuse? And is there any
more convenient than an appearance of yielding to force? As for me, I shall admit that one thing that most flatters me is a lively and well-executed attack, when everything happens in quick but
orderly succession; which never puts us in the
painfully embarrassing position of having to cover up some blunder of which, on the contrary, we ought to be taking advantage; which keeps up an appearance of taking by storm even that which we are quite prepared to surrender; and adroitly
flatters our two favorite passions—the pride of defense and the pleasure of defeat.
—MARQUISE DE MERTEUIL IN CHODERLOS DE LACLOS, DANGEROUS LIAISONS, TRANSLATED BY P.W.K. STONE IN MICHEL FEHER, ED., THE LIBERTINE READER
What sensible man will not intersperse his coaxing
\ With kisses? Even if she doesn’t kiss back, \ Still force on regardless! She may struggle, cry “Naughty!” \ Yet she wants to be overcome.Just
take care \ Not to bruise her tender lips with such hard-snatched kisses, \ Don’t give her a chance to protest \ You’re too rough. Those who grab their kisses, but not what follows, \ Deserve to lose all they’ve gained. How short were you \ Of the
ultimate goal after all your kissing? That was \
Gaucheness, not modesty, I’m afraid …
—OVID, THE ART OF LOVE, TRANSLATED BY PETER GREEN
The Présidente was clearly on edge; she could not look him in the eye.
They exchanged pleasantries, but then Valmont turned harsh: she had treated him cruelly, had apparently been determined to make him unhappy. Well, this was the end, they were separating for good, since that was how she wanted it. Tourvel argued back: she was a married woman, she had no
choice. Valmont softened his tone and apologized: he was unused to having such strong feelings, he said, and could not control himself. Still, he would never trouble her again. Then he laid on a table the letters he had come to return.
Tourvel came closer: the sight of her letters, and the memory of all the turmoil they represented, affected her powerfully. She had thought his decision to renounce his libertine way of life was voluntary, she said—with a touch of bitterness in her voice, as if she resented being abandoned. No, it was not voluntary, he replied, it was because she had spurned him. Then he suddenly stepped closer and took her in his arms. She did not resist.
“Adorable woman!” he cried. “You have no idea of the love you inspire.
You will never know how I have worshipped you, how much dearer my
feelings have been to me than life! … May [your days] be blessed with all of the happiness of which you have deprived me!” Then he let her go and turned to leave.
Tourvel suddenly snapped. “You shall listen to me. I insist,” she said, and grabbed his arm. He turned around and they embraced. This time he waited no longer, picking her up, carrying her to an ottoman, overwhelming her with kisses and sweet words of the happiness he now felt. Before this sudden flood of caresses, all her resistance gave way. “From this moment on I am yours,” she said, “and you will hear neither refusals nor regrets from my lips.” Tourvel was true to her word, and Valmont’s suspicions were to prove correct: the pleasures he won from her were far greater than with any other woman he had seduced.
Interpretation. Valmont—a character in Choderlos de Laclos’s eighteenth- century novel Dangerous Liaisons—can sense several things about the
Présidente at first glance. She is timid and nervous. Her husband almost certainly treats her with respect—probably too much of it. Beneath her interest in God, religion, and virtue is a passionate woman, vulnerable to the lure of a romance and to the flattering attention of an ardent suitor. No one, not even her husband, has given her this feeling, because they have all been so daunted by her prudish exterior.
Valmont begins his seduction, then, by being indirect. He knows Tourvel is secretly fascinated with his bad reputation. By acting as if he is contemplating a change in his life, he can make her want to reform him—a desire that is unconsciously a desire to love him. Once she has opened up ever so slightly to his influence, he strikes at her vanity: she has never felt desired as a woman, and on some level cannot help but enjoy his love for her. Of course she struggles and resists, but that is only a sign that her
emotions are engaged. (Indifference is the single most effective deterrent to seduction.) By taking his time, by making no bold moves even when he has the opportunity for them, he instills in her a false sense of security and
proves himself by being patient. On what he pretends is his last visit to her, however, he can sense she is ready—weak, confused, more afraid of losing the addictive feeling of being desired than of suffering the consequences of adultery. He deliberately makes her emotional, dramatically displays her letters, creates some tension by playing a game of push-and-pull, and when she takes his arm, he knows it is the time to strike. Now he moves quickly,
allowing her no time for doubts or second thoughts. But his move seems to arise out of love, not lust. After so much resistance and tension, what a
pleasure to finally surrender. The climax now comes as a great release.
I have tested all manner of pleasures, and known every variety of joy; and I have found that neither intimacy with princes, nor wealth acquired, nor finding after lacking, nor returning after long absence, nor security after fear and repose in a
safe refuge—none of these things so powerfully affects the soul as union with the beloved,
especially if it come after long denial and continual banishment. For then the flame of passion waxes exceeding hot, and the furnace of yearning blazes up, and the fire of eager hope
rages ever more fiercely.
—IBN HAZM, THE RING OF THE DOVE: A TREATISE ON THE ART AND PRACTICE OF
ARAB LOVE, TRANSLATED BY A.J. ARBERRY
I knew once two great lords, brothers, both of them highly bred and highly accomplished gentlemen which did love two ladies, but the one of these was of much higher quality and more account than the other in all respects. Now being entered both into
the chamber of this great lady, who for the time being was keeping her bed, each did withdraw apart for to entertain his mistress. The one did converse with the high-born dame with every
possible respect and humble salutation and kissing of hands, with words of honor and stately compliment, without making ever an attempt to
come near and try to force the place. The other brother, without any ceremony of words or fine
phrases, did take his fair one to a recessed
window, and incontinently making free with her (for he was very strong), he did soon show her
’twas not his way to love à l’espagnole, with eyes and tricks of face and words, but in the genuine fashion and proper mode every true lover should desire. Presently having finished his task, he doth quit the chamber, but as he goes, saith to his
brother, loud enough for his lady to hear the
words: “Do you as I have done, brother mine; else you do naught at all. Be you as brave and hardy as you will elsewhere, yet if you show not your
hardihood here and now, you are disgraced; for here is no place of ceremony and respect, but one
where you do see your lady before you, which doth but wait your attack. ” So with this he did leave his brother, which yet for that while did refrain him and putit off to another time. But for this the lady did by no means esteem him more highly, whether it was she did put it down to an overchilliness in love, or a lack of courage, or a defect of bodily
vigor.
—SEIGNEUR DE BRANTÔME, LIVES OF FAIR & GALLANT LADIES, TRANSLATED BY A.
R. ALLINSON
Never underestimate the role of vanity in love and seduction. If you seem impatient, champing at the bit for sex, you signal that it is all about libido, and that it has little to do with the target’s own charms. That is why you must defer the climax. A lengthier courtship will feed the target’s vanity, and will make the effect of your bold move all the more powerful and enduring. Wait too long, though—showing desire, but then proving too timid to make your move—and you will stir up a different kind of insecurity: “You found me desirable, but you are not acting on your desires; maybe you’re not so interested.” Doubts like these affront your target’s vanity (if you’re not interested, maybe I’m not so interesting), and are fatal
in the latter stages of seduction; awkwardness and misunderstandings will spring up everywhere. Once you read in your targets’ gestures that they are ready and open—a look in the eye, mirroring behavior, a strange
nervousness in your presence—you must go on the offensive, make them feel that their charms have unhinged you and pushed you into the bold move. They will then have the ultimate pleasure: physical surrender and a psychological boost to their vanity.
The more timidity a lover shows with us the more it concerns our pride to goad him on; the more respect he has for our resistance, the more respect we demand of him. We would willingly say to you men. “Ah, in pity’s name do not suppose us to be so very virtuous; you are forcing us to have too much of it. ”
—NINON DE L’ENCLOS
Keys to Seduction
Think of seduction as a world you enter, a world that is separate and distinct from the real world. The rules are different here; what works in daily life can have the opposite effect in seduction. The real world features a democratizing, leveling impulse, in which everything has to seem at least something like equal. An overt imbalance of power, an overt desire for power, will stir envy and resentment; we learn to be kind and polite, at least on the surface. Even those who have power generally try to act humble and modest—they do not want to offend. In seduction, on the other hand, you can throw all of that out, revel in your dark side, inflict a little pain—in
some ways be more yourself. Your naturalness in this respect will prove
seductive in itself. The problem is that after years of living in the real world, we lose the ability to be ourselves. We become timid, humble, overpolite.
Your task is to regain some of your childhood qualities, to root out all this false humility. And the most important quality to recapture is boldness.
No one is born timid; timidity is a protection we develop. If we never stick our necks out, if we never try, we will never have to suffer the
consequences of failure or success. If we are kind and unobtrusive, no one will be offended—in fact we will seem saintly and likable. In truth, timid
people are often self-absorbed, obsessed with the way people see them, and not at all saintly. And humility may have its social uses, but it is deadly in seduction. You need to be able to play the humble saint at times; it is a mask you wear. But in seduction, take it off. Boldness is bracing, erotic, and absolutely necessary to bring the seduction to its conclusion. Done right, it
tells your targets that they have made you lose your normal restraint, and
gives them license to do so as well. People are yearning to have a chance to play out the repressed sides of their personality. At the final stage of a seduction, boldness eliminates any awkwardness or doubts. In a dance, two people cannot lead. One takes over, sweeping the other along. Seduction is not egalitarian; it is not a harmonic convergence. Holding back at the end out of fear of offending, or thinking it correct to share the power, is a recipe for disaster. This is an arena not for politics but for pleasure. It can be by the man or woman, but a bold move is required. If you are so concerned about
the other person, console yourself with the thought that the pleasure of the one who surrenders is often greater than that of the aggressor.
As a young man, the actor Errol Flynn was uncontrollably bold. This often got him into trouble; he became too aggressive around desirable women. Then, while traveling through the Far East, he became interested in the Asian practice of tantric sex, in which the male must train himself not to ejaculate, preserving his potency and heightening both partners’ pleasure in the process. Flynn later applied this principle to his seductions as well, teaching himself to restrain his natural boldness and delay the end of the seduction as long as possible. So, while boldness can work wonders,
uncontrollable boldness is not seductive but frightening; you need to be able to turn it on and off at will, know when to use it. As in Tantrism, you can
create more pleasure by delaying the inevitable.
In the 1720s, the Duc de Richelieu developed an infatuation with a certain duchess. The woman was exceptionally beautiful, and was desired by one and all, but she was far too virtuous to take a lover, although she could be quite coquettish. Richelieu bided his time. He befriended her, charming her with the wit that had made him the favorite of the ladies. One
night a group of such women, including the duchess, decided to play a practical joke on him, in which he was to be forced naked out of his room at the palace of Versailles. The joke worked to perfection, the ladies all got to see him in his native glory, and had a good chuckle watching him run away.
There were many places Richelieu could have hidden; the place he chose
was the duchess’s bedroom. Minutes later he watched her enter and undress, and once the candles were extinguished, he crept into bed with her. She protested, tried to scream. He covered her mouth with kisses, and she eventually and happily relented. Richelieu had decided to make his bold
move then for several reasons. First, the duchess had come to like him, and even to harbor a secret desire for him. She would never act upon it or admit it, but he was certain it existed. Second, she had seen him naked, and could not help but be impressed. Third, she would feel a touch of pity for his predicament, and for the joke played on him. Richelieu, a consummate seducer, would find no more perfect moment.
A man should proceed to enjoy any woman when she gives him an opportunity and makes her own love manifest to him by the following signs: she
calls out to a man without first being addressed by him;she shows herself to him in secret places; she speaks to him tremblingly and inarticulately; her
face blooms with delight and her fingers or toes perspire; and sometimes she remains with both hands placed on his body as if she had been surprised by something, or as if overcome with
fatigue. • After a woman has manifested her love to him by outward signs, and by the motions of her
body, the man should make every possible attempt to conquer her. There should be no indecision or hesitancy: if an opening is found the man should make the most of it. The woman, indeed, becomes disgusted with the man if he is timid about his
chances and throws them away. Boldness is the
rule, for everything is to be gained, and nothing lost.
—THE HINDU ART OF LOVE, COLLECTED AND EDITED BY EDWARD WINDSOR
The bold move should come as a pleasant surprise, but not too much of a surprise. Learn to read the signs that the target is falling for you. His or her manner toward you will have changed—it will be more pliant, with more words and gestures mirroring yours—yet there will still be a touch of
nervousness and uncertainty Inwardly they have given in to you, but they do not expect a bold move. This is the time to strike. If you wait too long, to the point where they consciously desire and expect you to make a move, it
loses the piquancy of coming as a surprise. You want a degree of tension and ambivalence, so that the move represents a great release. Their surrender will relieve tension like a long-awaited summer storm. Don’t plan your bold move in advance; it cannot seem calculated. Wait for the
opportune moment, as Richelieu did. Be attentive to favorable circumstances. This will give you room to improvise and go with the moment, which will heighten the impression you want to create of being suddenly over-whelmed by desire. If you ever sense that the victim is expecting the bold move, take a step back, lull them into a false sense of security, then strike.
Sometime in the fifteenth century, the writer Bandello relates, a young Venetian widow had a sudden lust for a handsome nobleman. She had her father invite him to their palace to discuss business, but during the meeting the father had to leave, and she offered to give the young man a tour of the place. His curiosity was piqued by her bedroom, which she described as the most splendid room in the palace, but which she also passed by without letting him enter. He begged to be shown the room, and she granted his wish. He was spellbound: the velvets, the rare objets, the suggestive paintings, the delicate white candles. A beguiling scent filled the room. The widow put out all of the candles but one, then led the man to the bed, which had been heated with a warming pan. He quickly succumbed to her caresses. Follow the widow’s example: your bold move should have a theatrical quality to it. That will make it memorable, and make your
aggressiveness seem pleasant, part of the drama. The theatricality can come from the setting—an exotic or sensual location. It can also come from your
actions. The widow piqued her victim’s curiosity by creating the suspense about her bedroom. An element of fear—someone might find you, say— will heighten the tension. Remember: you are creating a moment that must stand out from the sameness of daily life.
Keeping your targets emotional will both weaken them and heighten the drama of the moment. And the best way to keep them at an emotional pitch is by infecting them with emotions of your own. When Valmont wanted the Présidente to become calm, angry, or tender, he showed that emotion first, and she mirrored it. People are very susceptible to the moods of those around them; this is particularly acute at the latter stages of a seduction, when resistance is low and the target has fallen under your spell. At the point of the bold move, learn to infect your target with whatever emotional mood you require, as opposed to suggesting the mood with words. You want access to the target’s unconscious, which is best obtained by infecting them with emotions, bypassing their conscious ability to resist.
It may seem expected for the male to make the bold move, but history is full of successfully bold females. There are two main forms of feminine boldness. In the first, more traditional form, the coquettish woman stirs
male desire, is completely in control, then at the last minute, after bringing her victim to a boil, steps back and lets him make the bold move. She sets it up, then signals with her eyes, her gestures, that she is ready for him.
Courtesans have used this method throughout history; it is how Cleopatra worked on Antony, how Josephine seduced Napoleon, how La Belle Otero amassed a fortune during the Belle Epoque. It lets the man maintain his
masculine illusions, although the woman is really the aggressor.
The second form of feminine boldness does not bother with such illusions: the woman simply takes charge, initiates the first kiss, pounces on her victim. This is how Marguerite de Valois, Lou Andreas-Salomé, and
Madame Mao operated, and many men find it not emasculating at all but very exciting. It all depends on the insecurities and proclivities of the victim. This kind of feminine boldness has its allure because it is more rare than the first kind, but then all boldness is somewhat rare. A bold move will always stand out compared to the usual treatment afforded by the tepid husband, the timid lover, the hesitant suitor. That is how you want it. If
everyone were bold, boldness would quickly lose its allure.
Symbol: The Summer Storm. The hot days follow one another, with no end in sight. The earth is parched and dry. Then there comes a
stillness in the air, thick and oppressive—the calm before the storm. Suddenly gusts of wind arrive, and flashes of lightning, exciting and frightening. Allowing no time to react or run for shelter, the rain comes, and brings with it a sense of release. At last.
Reversal
If two people come together by mutual consent, that is not a seduction. There is no reversal.
