Just a short dirty one. Me and my dirty mind. I bet I'm not the only one who thinks it when I see that biiiig, strong frame. Wink wink Enjoy ;)

He's so big. I bite my lip as I watch him from the other side of the street. He's looking just about as shifty as they come, but with his past, I can hardly blame him. I've seen enough photos of him – mostly mugshots, which make him look like a thug – but the reality of him is far superior. Sexier.

His hair has grown out a fair bit since the days of the Fox River Escape, and he has allowed a slight stubble to grow on his cheeks and chin, and his upper lip looks slightly bristly. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone, and I can see a broad, toned, smooth chest peeking out at me. His eyes are hidden behind shades, and I can't actually tell where he is looking.

"What you lookin' at?" My friend Carolina elbows me in the ribs, and I scowl back at her.

"Nothin'." I wait until she's stopped ogling across the road trying to spot my prey before I sneak another peek.

"Come on, Louisiana," Yasmin links her arm through mine and begins to tow me away.

I cast one last, desperate look over my shoulder at Lincoln Burrows, and this time I see his head move, and if I'm not mistaken, he's looking straight at me.

We maintain what I believe to be eye contact for a few seconds before I am tugged to my left, and to avoid the embarrassment of winding up sprawled on my ass in the middle of the street, I turn back to look where I'm going and hop up the small step just in time.

My heart sinks as we meander through the throng of high, drunk and otherwise completely wasted people, and I feel hands reaching from left, right and center to grope at various parts of my anatomy. I ask myself once again why I allowed my friends to convince me in to going out tonight. Normally on a Saturday night, I would be sitting at home alone with a glass of wine and a jolly good book. I'm beginning to wish that was where I was now. I get a glass of something vaguely toxic looking pushed in to my hand, and the passing hand beckons me for money. It's my round. I work a shitty job, as a receptionist, but the pay isn't too shoddy. Silver linings and all that. I hand over two twenty dollar bills and don't hold out much hope for change. Trina likes to tip the bar tenders. Especially if she thinks it will get her a lay at the end of the night. She's like a man in a woman's body, that one.

I sigh deeply and lean against the bar, on the outer edge of my cluster of friends, and sip the luminous cocktail through the ridiculously small straw. It tastes as vicious as it looks, and I wince at the extreme bitter sweetness, take a deep breath and draw in a few more mouthfuls.

"Wanna go dance?" Trina winks at the bar tender – who gives her an interested look back – and nods towards the dance floor.

"Really, intensely no." I reply.

"Oh come on." Carolina joins in the targeted bullying, then Yasmin and Selina back the first two up.

I roll my eyes in an exaggerated manner, then hold up my index finger. "After I finish my drink."

It turns out that was a fantastic idea. Whatever was in the drink has loosened me up a great deal, and I am actually enjoying gyrating around on the dance floor with my friends.

Trina and I are far closer than we really need to be, and she is making use of me as a performance pole, and I know it's a show for the pretty boy bartender. He's definitely paying attention. As are the majority of the male population of the club. The girls are giving disgusted or envious looks, and looking at Trina, I can completely understand why. She is one of those too-stunning-to-be-fair girls, and if I swung that way, I'd tap that.

We finish our little show a few minutes later, and wrap ourselves around one another, with an affectionate peck on the cheek. It's that moment that I lock eyes with Lincoln. I pull away from Trina, a little faster than I mean to, and she gives me a questioning look, but I smile, and she smiles back.

Then I return my attention to the big, handsome man leaning against the end of the bar, shades atop his head, forearm across the bar, eyes on me. I freeze, unable to move, unable to even look away. I notice the slightest movement of his head; just raising his chin. I finally manage to look away, and before I know what's happening, I'm being towed away to the ladies room, but I don't actually need to go. I don't think I do, anyway. I might be a bit beyond actually knowing what I want or need. Besides the obvious.

The girls are squealing at one another when I get in to the rest room behind them.

I am dazed for a long moment, stupid. I pick out the odd word here and there, but don't really pay attention until I hear my affectionate nickname spoken.

"Lou?" Carolina coos from next to me. Her dark eyes lock on to mine, and she raises a concerned hand to my arm. "Are you okay?"

I nod vigorously. "It's Saturday night, babe. I'm just tired."

Her face splits in to a grin, and she gives me a quick bear hug. "So long as you're having fun."

"Absolutely." I grin back, and hope that's her off my case. She's the last person you want knowing you have your eyes on someone, because she is exactly the type of person to prance up to them and yell it in their ear in the most uncouth fashion, and basically destroy any hope you might have had of getting to know them.

Carolina dashes in to one of the cubicles on her own, and Trina heads straight for the mirror. She pulls out her emergency make up and starts applying it. I stand just beside the door, staring. I want to get back out there before Yummy Burrows disappears in to the night for good.

The girls take their time fussing and obsessing over their hair and faces. I decide it's best not to even look. I have never been more glad to get out of a rest room as I am ten minutes later.

As I enter the room, I try to keep my eyes on the floor, act casual and cool, but they betray me and race around the room, searching.

Thank fuck.

He's still here. He's moved to a corner booth with a small crowd of equally thuggish looking men. He's laughing freely at something one of the bald thugs has just whispered in his ear, and I can't help but wonder if they're maybe flirting. My heart sinks a little at the idea, but I dismiss it and turn back to my friends, who are hogging most of the bar again, flashing cleavage for attention. I glance down and scoff at myself. No cleavage flashing for me. I'm wearing the female version of a wife beater. And black leggings. Figure hugging, perhaps, but hardly on-the-pull material. Never mind.

Another lethal drink is shoved in to my hand, and I decide not to bother looking too hard at it, and I just put the straw to my lips and down as much of it as I can manage in one go. I notice that Lincoln is holding a tumbler of whiskey. Or something similar. On the rocks. That's in one hand. Next to the other, resting on the table, is a pint. Double man points. My eyes lift to his, and my blood runs cold. He's watching me. Fuck.

I avert my eyes quickly and follow my clan to another booth, where they sit and huddle together, yelling in each other's ears over the music and giggling loudly. I try to join in, but I'm too distracted to come up with much.

Trina leans towards me and rests a hand on my thigh. "You okay babe?"

I nod. "Yeah. Yeah. Just tired." I smile. I think I'm believed.

"Fancy another dance after this round?"

I really, really do. I nod. "Sure."

Trina's face splits in to a grin, and she winks at the bartender who is already looking in her direction. He smirks and winks back. She is definitely getting laid tonight.

My eyes steal back to Linc, and as if sensing me, his eyes meet mine. I bite my lip and look away sharply. I finish my drink in a few long pulls and fight the urge to drop my head to the table. Whatever it is, I shouldn't be drinking it quickly. Trina is tugging on my arm, dragging me to the dance floor, and I suddenly feel too tipsy to put up any resistance.

We put on another show for the spectators, and this time there is more interest. Trina's bartender looks positively hysterical, clearly wishing his shift ended sooner. I catch myself with my hands on Trina's ass, my lips on her neck, and I suddenly realize that yeah, I could totally swing that way. The way she's rotating her hips, and the way her breasts are pushing against me. The skin of her neck is smooth, much smoother than a man's, and warm. Trina cranes her neck and looks in to my eyes. I know exactly what she's asking, and I don't hesitate. Our lips brush against one another, and I am totally lost in the sensation. It's Trina who parts her lips and takes my bottom lip between hers. A few moments later, she breaks the kiss, and turns her back to me. My lips gravitate back to her neck, and I've totally lost track of my hands. She's using me as a dancing pole again, and I really don't mind. She turns me round, and my eyes hone in on Lincoln, who is watching the show with blatant appreciation. My eyes rake down his body, then back up again, and the corners of his lips quirk up in to a smile. His eyes give me the same treatment, and I toss my head back on to Trina's shoulder. Her hands are on my hips, and they slide down the fronts of my thighs and back up again.

Lincoln stands, but before I get a chance to see where he's headed, Trina spins me round again, and this time, her back is to my front. My arms circle her waist, and I gasp as I feel someone brush past behind me, a hand linger on my hip. I glance to my right, and watch Linc as the crowd parts around him, and he glances back at me over his shoulder.

Trina turns to face me again, and she smiles at me. "I think that con likes you."

"He was set up." I defend, but Trina laughs softly. She's not being nasty.

"I know babe." Her lips brush against mine again. "You know. If the mood ever hits..." She kisses me gently, and I understand.

"For sure," I answer.

"Drink?"

I smile. "Maybe one more."

It's at the bar that Linc turns up again. I order my drink and rummage in my purse for a note.

A huge arm reaches past me and holds out a note to the bar tender. "It's on me." And that voice sends all the right signals to all the right places. I can feel his body against mine. "And a refill, please." He sets down the tumbler.

Spicy. He smells spicy. And pine fresh. I think that's it. It's intoxicating, anyway. I squirm around and he's close, and he's looking down in to my eyes. His eyes are burning and fierce. The eyes of a man who's seen more than his fair share of horrific things. This is a man who has sat in an electric chair, ready to die.

My drink is slid in to my hand, and I feel my cheeks flush as he continues to stare. I can't read his expression. It's solid and stoic. "Thank you."

He nods gently, and I'm aware of his fingers over mine around my drink.

I swallow. My mouth is bone dry. And he is gone. Leaving me, watching him retreat, my heart hammering in my chest, mouth and throat bone dry, and an uncomfortable heat between my legs.

"Definitely likes you." Trina whispers in my ear.

"Fuck off." I snap. We return to our table and settle back in to conversation about work and sex. I zone out.

"I need a smoke." Carolina complains, and somehow, that means we all have to finish up our drinks and tag along.