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A Southern woman and her English gentleman.

Could you?

Okay, so they'd had their crazy fling. Luckily they had come to their senses before they were caught, and life had gone on. They had been in their early twenties after all and, hey, wasn't that the whole point of being young and stupid? Making dumb-ass mistakes and learning from them?

Thinking back to those heady days, she couldn't even fathom what had possessed her to flirt with the intriguing yet unavailable guy at that party. She'd seen him around often enough on campus, and usually he was with a dark-haired woman she presumed must be the girlfriend. But on this particular night he was all on his lonesome and she spotted him leaning up against a wall, drink in hand. Their eyes made contact and she suddenly found herself standing in front of him, far closer that a passing acquaintanceship should.

"Hello, Mel-a-nie", he had said to her pointedly, toasting her with his plastic cup as he drew out her name.

Inordinately pleased by this, she laughed carelessly and knocked the side of her drink to his.

"And hello to you too, Ro-bin." she placced the same emphasis on his name as he had done to hers

They grinned together, each enjoying the fact that the other had known their name without having been properly introduced before. There was an illicit thrill that ran through her, which had her grasping. Did this mean what she thought it might? Was there some sort of reciprocal interest to be found here? Bah. She knew he was already taken, and she didn't play in other girls' gardens. She mentally shrugged the thought off and focused her attentions back on to his face.

The devilish look in his eyes made her wonder just how transparent her thoughts might have been. Ignoring the possibility, she started some general chatter about the music and before long they were deep in conversation, arguing the merits of the emerging grunge scene. Hours flew by as they continued to drink and bicker playfully with one another, oblivious to all around them.

There was no doubt she was getting increasingly plastered, drinking far more than was usual for her. All her senses were centred on the man in front of her...the dark hairs on his forearm, his funny habit of letting the tip of his tongue extend through his teeth when he laughed, and the deep timbre of his voice. She felt it was this last which most of all was responsible for the intense heat flooding through her. He had a way of slowing down his words while concentrating on her face that was ridiculously arousing.

Melanie found herself trying to make a convoluted point to him, made all the more difficult by her general state of inebriation. When she touched his bare arm to make a point, it was as if a live wire had run right through her. She was shocked into silence, unable to remove her hand. He was looking intently at her, silenced by her touch. They both watched as he took his opposing hand and placed it over hers, heat searing them both into place.

They could have stood like that for a millisecond or a millennium, neither noticed time passing. Robin finally shook himself, rousing as from a stupor. He grabbed her hand and said quietly, "We need to get some air."

Neither said a word as they threaded their way through the crowd, hanging on tightly with fingers entwined. The fresh blast of air that hit them as they exited was welcome and somewhat sobering. Standing at the bottom of the steps they'd just descended, he looked at her once more and tugged her to the left of the house.

It must have been close to 2am, and the only visible lights were coming from the upper windows and the party inside. She followed quietly as he led her through the dark in a seemingly random manner until they found themselves in the back garden, next to a potting shed.

"I don't know where I'm going," he admitted sheepishly, peering back over his shoulder as they continued walking towards the alley.

"Then maybe we should stop?" Melanie asked shyly.

He turned

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