Why are we women so attracted to the man of mystery? The man with the tortured life, of secrets, living in pain, too proud to ask for help, but we so ready to give it? Have you ever met such a man? He, whose voice sent such longing through the very fiber of your being? The man whose eyes engulfed your soul, and you believed you saw your destiny there, hidden, in his eyes, if you just searched long enough, deeply enough? The man whose touch set your body afire, the soft, careless caress on your thigh, the fingers that traced the line of your throat, the hands and lips that knew your body better than yourself? Have you ever known such a man?