There is a drug Inara knows of which suppresses one's inhibitions; but without the slowed reflexes, fuzzy-headedness, and reduced co-ordination of alcohol. One is perfectly, blissfully aware of what one is doing and its likely consequences, one simply doesn't care. It is, naturally, illegal; but - like most things- she would find it easy to get hold of if she asked the right people. It goes by many names: mexx, ambrosia, blinders, but Inara prefers (smiling at herself as she does so) to use its most pretentious alias: absolution.
She recognises immediately when - as occasionally happens - one of her clients is high on absolution. They are hungry, shameless, eager to bring their strangest fantasies to life. Dominant, submissive, exhibitionist, voyeur - she's seen them all, and sent them away more than satisfied.
She would, of course, never voluntarily take the drug herself. A companion must always be in complete control; of the situation, of herself. But in her darker moments, Inara imagines what would happen if...Jayne, say...spiked her drink with the stuff; and Mal found her just as the first rush of absolution flooded her bloodstream. She wouldn't be responsible for what happened next. She could do just as she liked; fly to Mal's arms free from the weight of conscience, of consequences, of being always so wise and sensible. She would kiss him until his protests ("you're not yourself", "this isn't the way I wanted it") melted away, and then gently, insistently, bear him down onto her bed.
She'd unbutton his shirt, kissing each newly bare patch of skin. "Shhh..." she'd say if he tried to resist. "This is what we both want. Just let it happen." Once his chest was bare, she'd attend to it more thoroughly; intoxicating herself with the smell and the taste of him, feeling him grow hard beneath her, until his hips bucked and small groaning noises escaped from his throat.
She'd slip out of her own clothes then; enjoying his gaze on her, knowing how the soft light of her cabin flattered her flawless, velvety skin. She'd lower her breasts towards his face; gasping as he lifted his head and took her nipple in his mouth, then throwing her head back and moving her hips in a daze of pleasure.
Soon, her hands would be unbuttoning his flies; and then tugging at his underpants; and then she'd be gently guiding him inside her; as they gazed into each other's eyes. They'd move together; first with her on top, then him, then in a joyful tangle that was neither, until she felt him gasp, and spasm, and fall back onto the pillow, out of breath and looking at her in a way that made her heart flip over.
This is what Inara imagines, as she lies in her shuttle, listening to Mal's footsteps in the corridor outside. This is what she knows she will never allow herself.
Author's Note: This will probably be the prologue to a longer fic, but it stands alone for now.