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[3rd person pov]

Skin on skin.

She fights for breath as their tongues duel and dance around one another.

She pulls back, gasps for air.

Breathing quickly, heavily.

She smiles.

Her hands round his neck, drawing him in.

Limbs engaged, blindly fumbling to remove layers of clothing.

Parting once more, she helps remove his shirt.

He grins. “We should never have waited this long.”

Contact.

~

Silence.

He doesn’t reply.

He looks around, uncomfortable, unsure.

She stands up.

“I’d better go,” she says.

She walks to the door, not taking time to put on her coat. Instead she drapes it over one arm.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she tells him. Regret.

She opens the door. Pauses.

“Wait,” he calls.

“What for?” she asks, exhausted.

“Just…” He pauses. “Why did you come?”

“You asked me,” she replies.

“You could have said no. You had that date,” he recalls. “You could have said no.”

She laughs ironically. Then, seriously, “Why do you think I came?”

“I… I…” he trails off. Shrugs.

“You asked me,” she repeats. Another day she might not have said it. Perhaps the latest failed date pushes her; maybe it’s the look he gives her.

He’s not sure he understands.

She closes the door.

She moves towards him.

Finally she knows what she wants. What she needs.

Eyes connected; their communication is silent.

They stand less than a meter apart.

She waits for his reaction.

“Because I asked you?” he questions. “It was that simple?”

She nods slowly.

He steps closer, leans towards her.

She’s drawn to him.

Their mouths collide.

~

He opens the door; invites her in.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing; he lets his emotions guide him.

She sits on the couch.

“Beer?” he asks.

She nods.

He returns shortly, two beers in hand, gives her one.

She opens it; drinks.

“You get much done on the education bill?” she asks.

He is confused briefly; his mind on other things, not listening.

“Yeah, I’ve just got to meet with Toby tomorrow to clarify some stuff,” he replies eventually.

“You want me to set that up?” she asks.

She wants to know why she’s really here.

“Uh, yeah, that’d be great,” he replies. Distracted.

He sits down. Stands. Paces. Sits. Stands.

She watches him.

“Josh?”

He looks at her.

“Why did you ask me here?”

She places the beer on the table.

~

She ends the call. “I’m so sorry Bob. That was my boss. I’m going to have to go – there’s been an emergency at work.” It’s a half-truth.

He nods, understanding.

“It’s been fun. We should do it again sometime,” he says.

She smiles insincerely. “That’d be great.”

“I’ll call you,” he says.

“Yeah,” she replies noncommittally. She hopes he doesn’t.

He stands up as she does.

He leans towards her, hoping for more than she’s willing to give.

She awkwardly gives him a brief hug.

“How much do I owe?” she asks.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s on me.”

“You’re sure?”

“My treat.”

She smiles genuinely. “Thank you, really. That’s very kind.”

She kisses him on the cheek; a compromise.

“I’ll see you soon,” he tells her.

She smiles, nods.

Another unsuccessful blind date over, she thinks as she leaves the restaurant.

She knows half the problem is that she’s not willing to give much; she’s jaded from years of dating. The other half of the problem is where she’s heading.

She worries about the effectual hold he has on her. She claims to be an independent woman – in many ways she is – but she’s more influenced by him than she thinks is good for her.

At least she knows it’s not one-sided. She sees the looks he gives her; understands the cryptic comments.

She takes a short cab ride to his apartment. She arrives, pays the driver, exits. Standing outside his building, she presses the buzzer.

He lets her in.

Up the stairs. She knocks. Waits.

~

She wonders why she trusted Carol’s judgement. A friend of a friend, she said, a really nice, interesting guy.

Perhaps if she were interested in biology. Or fruit flies.

She tries to listen and not fall asleep.

It’s difficult after a long day at work with no sleep.

She finishes her main course; refuses desert.

Her cell phone rings.

She smiles apologetically; answers.

“Hello?”

“Donna,” he greets.

“Josh.”

“I need help with the Education Bill.”

“Why?”

“I just do. Come over. Help me with it,” he says.

“What?” she asks.

“My place. We can order dinner, work on it a little. I won’t keep you late.”

“Josh, I…”

“Please?”

He rarely asks. A brief glance at her date as he tucks into a mountain of profiteroles.

“I’ll be right there,” she replies, grateful to have an excuse to escape.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

He hangs up.

~

“Josh, I’m leaving now, okay?” She puts on her coat, hoping to avoid the questions.

“Why?” He enters the bullpen from his office, leans on the door frame.

She sighs. “I’ve got a thing.”

“What sort of thing?”

“A date thing.”

He looks surprised. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“A blind date. Blame Carol. Better yet, get her to help you on education.”

“You couldn’t say no?”

“It’s a favour; long story,” she replies.

He sighs. “Okay.”

“I’ll be in early tomorrow,” she promises.

“Okay.” He studies her, noticing her deep blue dress. “You look nice.”

A self-conscious smile. “Thanks.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t have too much fun,” he smirks.

“I won’t.”

She leaves the White House and walks to the restaurant.

A man stands outside, tall and not unattractive. He glances at his watch then looks up at her.

“Donna Moss?” he asks.

“Uh huh. You must be Bob Wilson.”

“Right you are,” he says jovially. They shake hands. “Nice to meet you.” He gestures to the door. “Shall we?”

He opens it for her.

They enter, are seated.

“So, I’m told you work at the White House,” he opens.

“Yup.”

“That must be an interesting job.”

“Tiring, but never dull, I’ll say that.”

“I went to the White House once. Took a tour.”

“Really?” She feigns fascination.

“Yeah. There’s some fascinating history. Of course, I must admit I prefer the Museum of Natural History.”

“What is it that you do?” she inquires politely.

“I’m a behavioural ecologist. Well, an entomologist, really. At the university.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m currently specializing in post-copulatory guarding mechanisms of fruit flies,” he says enthusiastically.

“Sounds interesting,” she replies.

He talks. She listens. Minutes pass.

She picks up her wine glass, empties it. She refills it from the bottle that sits on the table.

~~

They lie in bed; exhausted; naked.

He holds her close; whispers nonsensical sweet words to her as she slowly drifts off.

Satiated, he kisses her one last time before being consumed by fatigue.

Content, they fall into dream-filled sleep.

Skin on skin; forever connected.

THE END.

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