A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first fanfic, so please be kind (but I do appreciate constructive criticisms/questions). Please R&R...comments make me want to keep writing! Just a warning: The latter part of this chapter is closer to M than T. There's nothing explicit, but I just want to put a little warning out anyway.

Enjoy! -McGreysMcLife

"God, she's hot."

"She's okay, I guess."

"Come on, Derek. You know you want to jump her."

"Why is everything about sex to you?" Derek asked.

"I just happen to be very gifted." They both laughed and grabbed their drinks from the bar.

"So go talk to her. Or dance with her. Or something. You haven't gotten laid in what, a week?"

"How would you know? I'm a little scared now."

"Derek, I'm your best friend. I'm practically your brother. Well, that, and I live with you."

"I should really kick you out, Mark. You keep track of when I get laid?"

"It's pretty obvious. You start moping around after three days. You get bitchy after five days. But I've never seen you go a whole week…I'm afraid what's going to happen after tonight if you don't jump her."

"Well, when was the last time you got laid, Mark?"

"Tonight," Mark laughed. "See that girl over there?"

"The one in the purple shirt?"

Mark nodded.

"Why her?"

"As soon as I walk over there, my obvious charm and good looks will –" Mark was distracted by a leggy redhead who walked by him, slipping something into his back pocket. He pulled it out and examined it closely. It was a small piece of paper with a phone number on it.

"Will what, Mark? Just make her fall into bed with you?"

"Uh…oh yeah. Of course," Mark said distractedly. "I, uh, have to go for a second." He walked over to the redhead who had put the paper in his pocket. Turning on all of his charm, Mark said, "Excuse me, I think you might have dropped this."

"I don't think I dropped it," she said sweetly. "I purposefully put it somewhere."

"What is it?"

"It's a piece of paper with a phone number on it. Haven't you ever seen a phone number?" she replied sarcastically.

Mark sighed. "Is it yours?"

"Not anymore."

"You gave me someone else's phone number? Because I don't think I want someone else's phone number." He winked at her.

"Oh, God."

"Well, you can call me that. But I also respond to 'Your Holiness' or just 'Lord'. What can I call you?"

"Addison. My name is Addison. What can I call you when I'm not calling you 'Your Holiness'?"

"God will do fine. So, can I buy you a drink, Addison?"

"I don't think so, God," Addison laughed. She walked off to the bar, leaving Mark in shock. No one said no to him. He turned to Derek and gave him a thumbs up before following Addison to the bar.

Derek chuckled to himself as he watched Mark follow the redhead like a puppy. It was refreshing to see someone say no to him. He took one last sip of his drink, left it on the bar, and made his way slowly to the dance floor to where the girl Mark pointed to was dancing. Derek hated to admit it, but Mark was right. She was hot. He walked up to her as casually as he could.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked.

The girl stopped dancing and looked at him. "Why?"

"You look thirsty." Derek regretted the words as soon as they escaped his lips. 'You look thirsty'? What kind of crap was that?

"Well," the girl giggled. "No thanks. As thirsty as I may look, I can buy my own drinks."

"Can I know your name at least?" Derek asked. "It's hard to try to buy you a drink if I don't know your name."

The girl sighed. "Meredith. Meredith Grey."

"Grey? You mean Grey as in Ellis Grey, one of the best lawyers New York's ever seen? That Grey?"

"That was my mom. I'm just the spoiled heiress. Who are you?"

"Derek Shepherd. I just graduated from law school. Your mom – she was amazing."

"Yeah, whatever." Meredith tried to keep dancing, but Derek was persistent.

"So, can I buy you a drink?"

"Do you ever give up?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Good try, but no."

"Do you want me to like, give you money or something? Or do you really just want to buy me a drink?"

"I really just want to buy you a drink. Well, that, and pin you to my bed and make you scream my name over and over again. But I definitely want to buy you a drink first," he said smoothly.

Meredith laughed. "Over and over again? You don't look like that type of guy. You look like the sensitive, 'Did you, you know…', awkward type of guy."

"You're lying."

"Well, just because you look like a freaking sex god doesn't mean that you are."

"Sex god?" Derek asked smugly.

"You know, this conversation isn't going to end well. I'd tell you how sexy you are, you'd buy me a drink, we'd…you know…and then we'd both be sorry. So, I'm going to stop talking to you, go back to dancing, and find some random stranger to drag home. Goodbye, Derek." Meredith smiled.

"So you think I'm sexy."

"And what if I do?"

"I was just curious, that's all."

"Well, it's none of your business."

"It's me. You think I'm sexy. That's my business."

"Hey! I never said I think you look like a sex god."

"You just did. Twice, actually." Derek smiled. "So, how about that drink?"

"That sounds good right about now," Meredith sighed. She followed Derek to the bar; where he ordered a double scotch, single malt for himself, and tequila for Meredith.

"How did you know I like tequila?"

"You look like a tequila person. That, and you kind of smell like tequila."

"Well, whatever gets me my tequila," Meredith giggled and raised her glass. "To sex gods."

"And goddesses," Derek mumbled.

"What was that?" Meredith smirked.

"Oh, nothing. Nevermind."

"You said goddesses. Is that, like, me? Or multiple goddesses?"

"I said nevermind. So, what do you do for a living?"

"I don't. Can we do something else?"

"You?" Derek asked hopefully.

"Cute."

Derek thought. "How about a contest?"

"What? That was…what?"

"One week. Winner gets whatever he wants from the loser."

"You mean she. Whatever she wants. And besides, what is the winner winning at? Like, chess or something? Because I suck at chess."

"A high-stakes test of will, strength, and determination."

"It's not a dare contest, is it?" Meredith asked cautiously.

"And what if it is?"

"We're not in high school. Dares stopped, you know, working."

"Come on," he goaded. "Are you afraid of a little dare contest?"

"I'm not afraid," Meredith asserted. "I never back down."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I barely know you. Well, they're not going to be stupid, are they? I mean, like, I don't want to do the chicken dance at midnight in the middle of the street or something like that."

"It's not like I know you any better than you know me. And besides, my dares are always interesting."

Meredith smirked. "I think I can imagine."

"I don't think you can. Do you remember that scene from When Harry Met Sally?"

"Um, there are a lot of scenes in When Harry Met Sally."

"You know the one I'm talking about. The restaurant scene."

"You mean the table orgasm scene? Yeah, I guess."

" Act it out. I dare you."

"What? We're starting already?"

"Yup," Derek said, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Each person gives and receives three dares. Whoever refuses or doesn't complete a dare is the loser. Loser has to obey whatever wish the winner has."

"Not money, please."

"That's fine. So - When Harry Met Sally, table, orgasm. Go."

"But, I, uh, don't remember the words. I couldn't do it justice."

"Improvise."

"Um…" Meredith thought.

"You could back out now. I'll win the contest by forfeit, of course, but I would have won anyway, so it doesn't matter. And I thought you never backed down from anything. Too bad, really. I would've liked a little competition."

"For your information, I never ever back down. And I will win."

"Whatever. You can still back out, if you're scared or something."

She lifted her head to look straight at Derek. "Game on," she whispered, never taking her eyes off of his. "Here goes nothing," she thought, throwing back a final shot of tequila. Derek smirked, getting ready to watch what promised to be a memorable scene.

Meredith sat quietly for a few seconds, trying to remember the scene. Suddenly, she grabbed onto the bar and started breathing heavily. "Oh God," she said in a low whisper. "Ohhhh….ohhhh," she moaned, running her fingers through her hair. "Ahhh…God…ohhhh…" She leaned back, giving Derek a perfect view of her heaving breasts. People were starting to stare, which only fueled Meredith on more. "Oh God!" she exclaimed. "Derek," she panted huskily. "Oh God, Derek…yesss…" She ran her hands down the front of her shirt, squirming and sighing. "Oh God, yes!" she finally cried out, letting her hands fall back down. Almost every man in the room was watching her intently, including Derek.

"That was hot," he was finally able to whisper.

"I thought it was a little overdone," Meredith responded smugly. "But I'm glad you liked it. Although you just used up your first dare."

"It was totally worth it."

Meredith stood up and walked over to Derek, bending forward so he could feel her breasts pressed against his back. "It's my turn now," she whispered.

Derek gulped as he tried to ignore his growing arousal. "Got any ideas?" he asked.

"I have a few," she whispered back. "Meet me at the Ritz-Carlton in Central Park at midnight." Before Derek could respond, Meredith turned around and walked out, swinging her hips and twisting a lock of her hair in her fingers as Derek watched in amazement. She was going to win - guaranteed.

x.x.x.x.x

Meredith's hands shook slightly as she pulled a jacket over her outfit. She barely knew Derek, and yet she had already faked an orgasm in a public place for him. Well, not for him. For the contest. She walked out to the front of the hotel, shielding herself from the rain and hoping that no one else besides Derek would be there. Having money got her more attention than she really wanted. She smiled when she saw Derek waiting in the rain.

"Glad you could make it," Meredith whispered into his ear, leaning in close to him. "I've been waiting." She grabbed the collar of his jacket and tugged lightly, pulling him inside. "I dare you," she paused, "to not touch me. I can touch you all I want, but you're not allowed to touch."

Derek looked at her questioningly. "For how long?" he asked.

"I'll tell you. But don't get your hopes up. I have to win first," she teased.

"When does it start?"

Meredith pulled Derek into the elevator and closed the door before anyone else could get in. She leaned close to him as she slowly unbuttoned the first button on her jacket. "Now," she whispered. She turned to face the opposite wall and pressed herself against Derek, slowly pulling herself up and down him. She smiled and unbuttoned three more buttons on her jacket, revealing a tiny white button-up shirt. "You know, Mr. Shepherd," she said in a low, husky voice, "I've been very bad. So bad, I just don't know what to do with myself."

"I think I do," Derek growled. He lifted his hands, but Meredith pinned them to the wall of the elevator and grinned maliciously.

"Ah, ah, ah. No touching. You touch, you lose." The elevator doors opened and Meredith grabbed Derek's collar again, pulling him down the hallway. She giggled as she saw the look on Derek's face when she bent down to reach for the room key. "Mr. Shepherd!" she exclaimed in fake astonishment. She opened the room door and walked in, still pulling Derek behind her. "Why don't you have a seat, Mr. Shepherd?" Meredith pointed to a large leather armchair in the middle of the room. "Make yourself…comfortable."

Derek fell into the armchair, already amazed by Meredith. She was truly devious…and he liked that. He watched as she walked to the stereo in the corner of the room and turned it on. A slow, steady beat began to pulse through the room.

"Are you ready, Mr. Shepherd?"

Derek nodded. He hadn't thought that being called Mr. Shepherd could be so hot.

"I told you I've been bad. Do you think I should be punished?" Meredith asked as she swayed with the music, twisting her hips and slowly unbuttoning more of the buttons on her jacket. She pushed it off her shoulders, revealing the tiny white shirt and a very short plaid skirt. She laughed as she watched Derek's eyes travel from her breasts, to her skirt, down her legs, and finally to her patent leather pumps. Nodding was all he could manage to do.

"Well, Mr. Shepherd," Meredith whispered. She slowly lowered herself onto his lap, rolling her hips in time to the music. "How do you think I should be punished? If you answer correctly, I'll undo a button on my shirt or my skirt. There's only one on each, and you get to pick both times."

Derek groaned as Meredith grinded her hips faster and faster against him. Suddenly, she stopped completely and stood up again. "That's not an answer," she murmured into his ear. "Just for that, I'm choosing this time." She backed away into the middle of the room. "And I think that this should just come off altogether."

Meredith slowly unbuttoned the remaining button on her shirt and pulled it off. She hadn't planned for this, but Derek was demonstrating some amazing willpower. She just wanted to get the contest over with and win, but he was not going to give up easily. She giggled as his eyes widened when he saw that she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath. She slinked back to him in only the tiny plaid skirt and her high heels, reveling in his obvious frustration. Derek watched her breasts bounce as she danced to the music.

"You're evil," he whispered.

Meredith stopped dancing. "Maybe I am," she whispered back. She straddled him on the chair, grinding her hips with his, still in time with the music.

"Wh – what are you doing? Meredith…this is just for fun. I mean, are you seriously trying to kill me?"

"I am evil, aren't I?" Meredith smiled wickedly as she played with the final button on her skirt. It came off easily and she giggled as she kicked it behind her. Derek gulped. Meredith wasn't wearing anything under the skirt either. He could have sworn that she was wearing a tiny G-string, but he was wrong. He quickly picked up his hands and sat on them, hoping it would help his self-control. "Remember, Mr. Shepherd. You touch, you lose," Meredith whispered.

x.x.x.x.x

"Is the dare over yet?" Derek asked hungrily. He wanted Meredith – badly.

"Not until you get home," Meredith whispered.

"What?"

"Not until you get home," she whispered again.

"Forget about the contest, Meredith. I want, no, need you. Now."

"Scared, are you? I'm impressed; you showed some pretty amazing willpower. But I understand if you're too scared to finish the contest. I'll win by forfeit, of course. But I was going to win anyway, so it doesn't matter."

Derek laughed as he realized that she was quoting what he had said to her at the bar. "I'm never scared."

"Good."

"Good." They stood in an awkward silence. Derek's whole body was aching with the urge to touch Meredith, but he knew he couldn't. Giving up now would be too easy.

"So, uh, I'll call you tomorrow. It's my turn again. Can I, uh, have your number?" Derek finally said.

Meredith, still wearing nothing but her patent leather pumps, found a piece of paper and a pen. Scribbling something on the paper, she slipped it into Derek's pocket, which was not an easy task.

"Goodbye, Mr. Shepherd," she giggled.

Meredith slumped against the hotel door as she closed it. What she had done – it was never meant to go that far. All she had meant to do was put on a little show, but she ended up naked. She always ended up naked. But there was something about Derek that was...different. He wasn't just another stranger that she was never going to see again. And that scared the crap out of her.