Two heads (covered with dark hair and filled with dark thoughts) lay on a pillow, dark eyes regarding one another in the flickering light of the candles scattered around the sparsely decorated room.

Max's mind was marveling at the chain of events that had led her here: storming off into the darkness, but not expecting anyone to be at the school, she had caught up with the pastry professeur in the parking lot... and agreed to his challenge of an alternate application process. Nicolas was puzzling over the fact that, classic European sensibilities aside, the blonde whippet drooling all over him in his office that afternoon had been less impressive than the buxom brunette with the attitude currently sharing his bed. But there would be time for deliberations later. The fun was about to start.

"Shall we begin the tasting?" A talented mouth, fully experienced in coaxing out subtle flavors, began kissing a trail down her body, highlighting each portion with lips, teeth and tongue. At the sound of her first gasp, he smiled; at the sound of her first whimper, he asked saucily, "Exciting, isn't it?"

Max felt her eyelids fluttering like butterfly wings, struggling to snark through arousal that left her breathless and lightheaded. "Shouldn't... ahhh... I mean, isn't that supposed to be n'est ce pas?"

Nicolas grinned into the satiny skin near her hip. The tip of his nose glided smoothly over to dip into her navel as he pressed a kiss to her soft quivering belly and answered, "I'm impressed. I wasn't expecting you to know any of my mother tongue."

Propping herself up on her arms, Max glared at him down the sight line of her body. "First off, Caroline's been trying to Rosetta Stone me for the last 2 days because of you. And second, quick note, Frenchy. I don't know how you do it in Eiffel-ville, but around here, you don't mention your mother, her tongue or any other part of her when you're in bed with a girl. Now if you were in bed with a guy, I'm sure he wouldn't mind and you could make him your little cream puff. But I'm a woman and-"

She broke off with renewed gasps and returned, boneless, to the high thread count sheets beneath her as his tongue located an entirely new area to swirl around. "Yes. That indeed you are."

A few hours later, two panting and entirely sated playmates collapsed side by side, their bodies coated in a sheen of sweat that glistened in the candlelight like a fresh sugar glaze. Max regained brain function first and, after pushing a few wayward curls off her face, turned her head to regard the delectable man beside her.

"So, not that I didn't appreciate the run for the gold in the Sex Olympics, I gotta ask. Why did you make me go through all this?"

The subject of the query sat up and poured 2 glasses of water from a dripping cold bottle that sat on the nightstand, handing one to her and taking a deep drink himself before responding. "I needed to see if your passion was as good as your pastry- and you just showed me it was. At the risk of poor timing, I'll have the tuition waiver and scholarship forms signed on my desk first thing tomorrow."

Max took a small sip of water to cover her smile. "It's kind of cute you think I'm gonna get mad about the Pretty Woman of pastry school aspect going on, but I give you my word- which is usually "Snickerdoodle"- I'm okay with this if you are. Now whaddya say? Almost ready for round 2?

A low chuckle rumbled like thunder in the quiet, and he ghosted a fingertip in the crook of her arm. "Your count is a bit off, cherie. It's round 5, and I think we should rest. We have class in the morning, remember?"

She downed her water and set the glass down before sitting up to face him, the sheet slithering down to her waist as she did. "Listen, sacre bleu cheese, I only take criticism from people I'm not sleeping with, but I'm game for another round if you are..." She paused dramatically as she slung a leg over his hips and straddled him, red fingernails grazing his pecs before she concluded, "As long as I can drive this time."

His smile was pure wolfish delight, but whatever he had been planning to say died in a groan as she eased herself down at a deliciously languid pace. Instead he walked his fingers up her thighs to settle on her hips before he managed a final coherent sentence. "I'm thrilled to have you on board, chef."

A/N: I'm embracing this "firsts" thing, so here goes: my first 2 Broke Girls fic. Try to be gentle. :)

So I basically lifted the few lines of dialogue that screamed "fic me!" and whipped up the rest as I went along. First draft was short, second draft was... decidedly M-rated. So I polished it up for you. Hope you like it.

Whether you did or not, please feel free to leave a review. Enjoy!