I don't own Glee.

Since my other Samcedes fic "Tied to the Tracks" is almost finished, I decided to start a new one. I don't want to give away anything, but I will say that this story is mostly Samcedes and will feature other pairings as well. I might mess around with the description and genres some more as I see where the story goes. In the meantime, enjoy! and let me know what you think in the reviews.

I am focused, watching intently the performance that is you. I will sit in the front row, night after night, entranced by your histrionics, and I will never tire of the show.

We met in the morning. We sat beside each other in the park as steady, panting joggers ran past, strollers moved purposefully over pebbles, and canines paraded anxiously by. She was reading the paper, ignoring the world around her. Her head down, she peered over the top of a pair of horn-rimmed glasses as her brown eyes jumped around the newsprint. Her hair was obsidian colored and fell gently onto her shoulders, brushing past the lapels of her black trench coat and hiding most of her rounded brown face.

She folded her paper and got up from the bench, not even giving me the courtesy of a glance. She walked off toward the street and I realized that she had abandoned her purse. I immediately got up and began swiftly walking after her, my arm wrapped protectively around the bag. She hadn't gotten very far and as I got closer to her, I noticed the sultry sway in her ample backside. I became so distracted by it that I was soon walking into her. When my loafers scraped the back of her black heels, she turned around and looked at me angrily.

I didn't notice her short stature until I was upon her, looming over her queerly. Despite my taller build, I felt small under her stare. She raised a black eyebrow at me, obviously annoyed that I had seemingly followed her and scuffed her expensive-looking shoe in the process. I gaped at her for a moment, taking in the deep red lipstick she wore on the lips that were currently twisted into a sneer. "Your purse," was all I managed to get out without any particular inflection. She looked down at the gray bag I was haphazardly holding in one hand and clumsily pushing toward her.

"That is not mine," she said curtly and began walking, quicker this time. I caught up and pushed the bag at her again.

"But you left it on the bench," I said, now panting in an attempt to keep her pace.

She stopped, swung her head around and huffed at me. Her nostrils flaring, she said, "Do you not get it?" I could clearly hear her voice this time. Her tone was steady and firm, laced with a slight roughness that rubbed against my ears and caused my cock to rub against my slacks. She continued, "The bag is not mine." She paused after every word, making sure I heard her clearly, before she turned and went off again. She reached the edge of the park and darted across the street before I could think to catch up with her, leaving me with a purse and a confused look on my face. I hugged the bag against my chest and stalked back to my office. I rode in the elevator counting the eighteen floors and absently running my fingers over the ridged leather of her purse.

Once inside the sanctity of my office, I laid the bag across my desk and examined it. I reached for it slowly as if it would explode from my touch and ran my fingers over the tasseled zipper. I wrapped my fingers around the tassel and pulled gently hearing the low roar of the zipper undoing itself. The bag parted and opened before me, displaying its contents proudly. I let my hands do the work, plunging inside of the bag and rummaging around until I felt the need to pull something out.

I started with a cylindrical tube, her lipstick. I removed the cap, carefully, and twisted the bottom half expecting a laser to shoot out and a hole to be blasted into the ceiling much like the gadget featured in the spy movie I fell asleep watching last night. I found no laser; the tube simply revealed a shade of lipstick similar to the one I observed on her plump lips minutes ago. I returned the lipstick to its previous state and sat the tube on my desk. I dove back into the bag, anxious of what I would find next, apprehensive of what I would find out about her. When her flowery scent wafted in my direction in the park I was immediately interested in this woman and in that moment I craved her and now, my soul ached for every piece of information I could find out about her. Had she not left her bag, my dreams would have been haunted by her and the fact that something as simple as her steady breaths and contended expression while reading the paper were enough for me to be afraid to even speak to her.

Condoms. She had condoms in her purse and instantly a pang of jealously hit me dead in the middle of my chest. It mattered to me who she was fucking. What schmuck was lucky enough to not only get within an inch of her but also to fucking be inside of her? Fuck him. Why not me?

I tossed the roll of three condoms aside and went back for more treasures. I found more makeup: mascara that was undoubtedly responsible for the long curled lashes she flicked at me in anger, a compact filled with powder that I guessed she didn't need judging by her soft-looking, glowing skin, and a thin black pencil that outlined her large brown eyes that needed no help standing out.

A leopard-handled switchblade was next. I slid it slowly out of my hand and paused, deciding whether to go back in. I was fearful of finding a more dangerous weapon but the excitement threatened to override the fear as I wondered what other surprises would be hiding in her bag. I opted for something hopefully safe, picking up the gray leather wallet with a large silver clasp on the front of it. I held it for a moment, feeling the weight of change, cash and cards in my palm before opening it and searching for some sort of identification.

"Mercedes Jones," I whispered into the stale air around me. I combed over the details on the plastic card looking for one piece of information in particular. I spotted her address after glazing past her height and eye color. I had already decided that I would attempt to find her home and return the bag in person. As I attempted to figure out the best way from my office to her home, a body appeared in my doorway opening the slightly ajar door and walking inside.

"Did you mug someone?" Noah Puckerman asked, coming to stand in front of my desk and disrupting my foraging. He stood with one hand in the pockets of his slacks and the other scratching his closely cropped head of hair. I had forgotten about our early afternoon meeting, the entire reason I had taken an early lunch, and now the reason I had met her. The ID tumbled from my grasp and down onto my desk. I quickly gathered the displaced contents of the bag and shoved them back into the pocketbook, but not before Noah grabbed the plastic card I was just examining.

"Who is she?" He asked, turning the card over in his hand, his hazel eyes lighting up as he inspected the woman depicted in the photo.

"I don't know yet."

"Well, let me know when you find out. If you don't want her, I'll slam dunk her tonight," he stated with a hungry lick of his lips. "What are you doing with her purse?"

"She left it in the park. I'm going to return it to her after work." I held out my hand for the ID, hoping he didn't have any real interest in her.

"Why didn't you give it to her earlier?" He placed the card into my awaiting palm and regarded me with a suspicious expression.

"I tried to. She wouldn't take it. She said it wasn't hers, but her face matches the ID, so it's obviously her bag."

Always one for the irrational Noah remarked, "Maybe she's got drugs in there and she thought you were a cop or something." We both chuckled at his idea but my laugh didn't last as long as I thought about why Mercedes wouldn't let me return her purse to her. I had barely said two words to her but she obviously thought of me as someone she didn't want to be near, as if my touch had tainted her bag and my returning it had ruined her day.

"I'm going to go by her house and return it after work."

"Isn't that a little creepy? Why don't you just mail it back to her?"

"Her whole life is in there, man. If lost my wallet I would want someone to bring it back to me. If they stopped by house I wouldn't be creeped out - I'd be grateful."

"Yeah, I guess," he shrugged and nodded his head. "Maybe she'll even give you a reward," he added with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

I rolled my eyes at his suggestion and stored the purse beneath my desk. I sat down and turned on my computer to start our meeting, eager to put Mercedes Jones out of my mind.

My workday couldn't end soon enough. I had the misfortune of having to sit through a thorough chewing out session with Puck after our meeting turned into his now ex-girlfriend, Sugar Motta, storming into my office and brandishing a pair of black panties she claimed weren't hers. Our boss, Jerahd Figgins, felt the situation required a lecture about professionalism in the work place. I tuned out most of the session. My only place in the argument was defending Puck because I knew for a fact that Sugar was the only girl my best friend was currently with. His luck was better than mine, seeing as my last date had been with a blonde woman whose lover showed up in the middle of the meal to claim the woman who was apparently hers.

"So, whose panties are they?" I asked Noah as we walked into the elevator at the end of the day. Another co-worker of ours, Tina Cohen-Chang, who had an office next to Figgins' and was privy to our lecture, joined us as we made our way to the lobby.

"Hell, man, you guys have met Sugar. She could have bought them yesterday and forgotten. I don't know who they belong to. They could be from one of my exes. I was living with a chick before I met Sugar but I doubt she thought about that."

"Yeah," Tina snorted, "that girl is about as deep as a puddle."

"Yeah," Noah replied with a smirk, "but she's twice as wet."

Each of us exited the elevator with laughter on our lips as we made our way to the parking lot.

"You knuckleheads have any plans for the weekend?" Tina asked when we reached her electric blue sedan, a similar color to the streaks in her jet-black hair. "I know it's only Thursday but I have to plan early with you two."

Noah slapped my shoulder and gave me a vigorous shake, "I think Sammy here is going to be busy with his mystery woman. What was her name again? Mercedes, right? That's sexy as shit, by the way."

I cringed at the fact that he remembered her name and tried to ignore his 'sexy' comment.

"Oooooh, mystery woman. Tell me more, Samuel," Tina teased jumping slightly at the possibility of gossip.

Before I could answer, Noah interjected, quickly spitting out the details of my encounter, "her name is Mercedes Jones. He found her purse in the park today and when he tried to give it back to her she wouldn't take it; she said it wasn't hers. Which, I was thinking, was some sort of sign for him to come and find her. She's 5'3, brown eyes, sleek black hair, lips you want to suck on for the rest of your life and -"

"Puck!" I shouted using his post 9 to 5 nickname. "I'm just going to return the bag and be out of her life forever. That's it."

Tina's face was scrunched up in an amused yet confused fashion as she watched the exchange between Noah and me. Finally she spoke, "Mercedes Jones," she pondered aloud, "that name sounds kind of familiar."

"Trust me," I said, forgetting that I should do anything possible to deter my newly-single friend from having any reason to be interested, "you'd remember her of you saw her. She had this amazing presence. I sat next to her for half an hour and she didn't say a damn thing to me but I was jittery as hell just being near her."

"Damn, sounds like I need to meet this chick." I noticed the all-too-familiar faraway look on Noah's face as he spoke. Biting his bottom lip he added, "You sure you don't want any company returning that bag?"

"No," I said quickly moving the purse closer to my person. "I got it; I'll call you and let you know how it goes."

With that, I held open Tina's car door for her and walked the short distance to where my black SUV was parked next to Noah's Silver convertible. I waved goodbye and got into my car, tucking the purse safely into the passenger seat. I entered her address into my GPS and headed towards her.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think (bad/good/etc). You can contact me here and I'm also on tumblr (vivamsmolly).