It was a mistake.

Actually, that was an understatement. It was the biggest mistake he had ever made in the entire history of his existence, and quite possibly the biggest one he would ever make in the future.

But for some reason, he didn't mind. All the horrible things that could have happened, everything that could have gone wrong, and the complete review of their respective pasts, and it still wasn't enough to make him care even the slightest bit.

They laughed, they drank, they kissed. It shouldn't have happened. But it did.

The scent of rose petals and champagne drifted leisurely about the Frenchman. It tempted him as though it were a flame, and he the helpless moth, enticed by beauty and the promise of danger.

He liked to think himself too clever to fall for this art of lazy seduction; he also knew this to be false, although he would never admit it. A hand woven carelessly (or carefully) through shimmering golden locks, a finger loitering innocently at the corner of pink lips, soft moans emitted with each gentlemanly sip of wine. Yes, these were the things that fooled him; or rather, these were the things he allowed to fool him.

The door swung open, two giggling heaps falling into it. Scarves and sweaters and jeans were tossed absentmindedly aside, abandoned in favor of each other's warmth.

Oh, yes, it was a mistake. But it was the best mistake of his lifetime, and he would make it one to remember.