Rated M for minor sexual descriptions and drug use

I knew I could never have you
I knew that before you did
Still I'm the one who's stupid

To dance was to live. In Mike Chang's mind it was simple as that. It didn't matter what kind of dancing was being done, Mike danced at every opportunity he could. He didn't really care for the hyper-fast dubstep that seemed to dominate every club in the city, but he could dance to it and that was good enough for him.

The club they were at tonight was nicer than the ones he normally went to. Some guy at the hostel he was staying at knew some other guy who knew someone else who got them into this place. The drinks were more expensive and there were better clothes on the prettier people which the rest of the group loved, but none of that mattered to Mike. He wasn't looking for someone to bring back to the hostel. All that mattered was the dancing.

Dancing, to Mike, was the universal language he chose to express himself with. Some people used music or photography or oil paint, but he danced. He loved the way fast movements could drive away a dreary day or how he could bring people to tears with contemporary dance. Of course, there was none of that slow, choreographed dancing in the club. It was all flying limbs and sweaty bodies grinding so close together it was like they were trying to disprove the scientific theory that two bodies couldn't occupy the same space.

The first time he saw her he was dancing with a random woman and he didn't actually see her, just her blonde hair. It was amazing how a few weeks away from the US could change your perception. Instead of every other woman being a bottle blonde like back home, Paris was full of brunettes which made the light hair stand out. That was only part of it though. The other part was how motionless the hair was compared to everything else in the club and his eyes kept being drawn back to the unmoving blonde object past the bodies on the floor. Even so, he wasn't in any rush to get a good look at her face because there wasn't a point. He wasn't coming back to the club after tonight. Plus, he wouldn't be staying in Paris for much longer. There were still half a dozen cities in Europe he wanted to visit. Still, he did kind of want to see what she looked like but after two songs the blonde hair was gone.

The disappointment he felt didn't last long as a beautiful woman began to grind on him. After they had danced together for a song, she said something in French which he assumed was a "thank you" since she then planted a kiss on his cheek and danced away, allowing him to appreciate her firm ass in a different way. He really loved women who danced.

Mike could have two drinks that night and two drinks only. It wasn't because he was trying to stay sober because he did want to get drunk. It was just that his first drink at the bar was so expensive he had to recalculate how much he could spend for the rest of the night which came out to be one more drink. And it had to be one of the cheap ones. But he could only get that drink if he could get the bartender's attention.

"Hey!" he said as he waved his hand around. "Hey!"

He was pretty sure the bartender was actually ignoring him now because he was waving his hand around pretty hard.

Someone tapped on his shoulder as he heard, "Pardon." When he turned to look, he saw blonde hair attached to the most gorgeous face with the most gorgeous smile he had ever seen. He wanted to say something smooth and cool but the problem with that was she was speaking to him in French and he had exhausted all of his trying to get the bartender's attention. What he needed to do was interrupt her and try to get her to understand that he didn't speak French but he didn't ever want her to stop speaking.

But she did and looked at him expectantly.

"I'm sorry, I don't uh— English?"

Her eyebrows came together for a second as she looked at him funny then came the laughter. Mike wasn't the greatest with the ladies but he never had any trouble talking to them and he certainly never had one laugh in his face like now. Part of him wanted to crawl into a ditch a die but another part told him to look at her eyes and the way the skin next to them was crinkled in amusement.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh."

"You speak English."

"I speak English," she said with a smile and it was only then he heard the lack of an accent. He had gotten so used to English being spoken with one that it surprised him when it wasn't. It felt good to hear. "American?"

"Yea."

"Sorry, not too many come to this club so I thought…"

"It's okay. I enjoyed the French even if I didn't understand a word of it."

"Oh, I see I've wasted my time since you like French girls," she said with a mock frown as she began to walk away.

He grabbed her arm, pulled her back, and said, "Hey, lemmie buy you a drink."

Coming much closer to him than she had to, she said, "No thanks. I saw you trying to buy one earlier." She turned toward the bar and snapped her fingers, making enough noise to be heard even with the music playing. "I'm buying."

The bartender appeared in front of her like magic and she spoke to him in French, too fast for Mike to catch any of the words.

"How'd you—" he said after the bartender left and she turned back to him. "I tried for like hours to get him—"

Grinning up at him, she said, "Don't worry about it."

Before he could think of anything to say, the bartender came back with two champagne flutes filled with a bubbly pink liquid and set them down on the bar. She nodded her head at the glasses and waited for him to pick up his glass before she picked up hers. They clinked glasses and she drained the entire thing while he just took a sip of the rosé.

She put her glass back on the bar and looked at him like he was a piece of meat. "So, where are you staying?"

He stammered out the name of the place where he was staying.

Giving him a curious look, she said, "Never heard of it. Is that a hotel?"

"No, it's a hostel," he said, not embarrassed but not proud of it either.

She pursed her lips for a second then said, "I guess we're going back to my place." He coughed on his drink and she smiled. "Finish your drink."

"Are you serious?"

The only response he got was her tongue slowly tracing the top of her upper lip. He coughed on his drink again then drained it. That brought a smile to her face as she dragged him away from the bar.

"Wait, aren't you gonna pay for the drinks?"

"Don't worry about it," she said looking back at him.

Mike normally wasn't the type of guy who slept with random women he had just met but he hadn't gotten laid in a long time and the woman who was dragging him along was really beautiful and it wasn't like that was some sort of unbreakable rule of his. The fact that they didn't even know each other's names kind of bothered him, but she really was beautiful. And he hadn't gotten laid in a long time.

So his mind was elsewhere when the Mercedes Benz S-Class pulled up to the curb as soon as they stepped out of the club. It also didn't help his thinking when she straddled him and locked her lips onto his the moment they got into the car. It really didn't help when he could feel her heat as she started to grind on him. When he moaned into her mouth she just pulled back and smirked for a second before kissing him again. His mind was still lust addled when they pulled up to their destination and he didn't really notice that it was a luxury hotel or that they took the elevator up to the top floor and entered an enormous suite. All he could think about was the end of the surprisingly high bed she pushed him onto. That is until she dropped to her knees, undid his pants, and pulled off his jeans and boxers.

Although he had gotten better blowjobs, this was still one of the best. Like every good one, she started slowly and used both her mouth and hands to tease him while looking up at him every so often. Varying the length and depth of the strokes of her hands and mouth, she sped up her actions and stared right at him as the city lights softly lit up her face and the room. With every passing second she felt and heard him react to everything lick, stroke, or touch. She remembered which ones made him moan, or jump, or twitch and went back to them regularly until his hips jerked from everything she did.

Her cheeks caved in and her tongue swirled around the head of his cock, bringing past the point of no return as he clutched onto her head with his hands, not to push her down but just to hang on to. He moaned out a warning but her cheeks caved in even further which he didn't think was possible and he exploded into her mouth. Her throat rippled after every jerk of his cock while she kept her tongue moving along the bottom of it until he couldn't take it anymore and pushed her head away. She stood up and smirked at him before licking her lips.

He dropped his head back onto the bed and decided that was the best blowjob he had ever gotten. When he looked up again she was gone. Not that he cared since he was still basking in the afterglow. After a minute or two, she came back and her right hand came up and pulled on the string behind her neck. Without that knot, the dress slid down her body and pooled around her feet. She had nothing on underneath, and he felt himself twitch.

Just when he thought he had never seen anything sexier than her body being silhouetted by the lights of the main room, her head tilted back as she drank from a bottle of water she held in her other hand. He twitched again, and for once he felt lucky that he hadn't had sex on this entire trip, as she drank the entire bottle in one go. She placed the bottle down on the table next to the doors then looked over at him.

"Guess you liked the show."

Kicking off her high heels, she walked over to the side of the bed and leaned over onto her hands. She looked at him and said, "Fuck me."

Mike woke up to an empty bed which he didn't mind since it was the softest one he had slept on in a month. Oh, and he had had the best blowjob of his life last night. And the sex after wasn't bad either.

He looked around and saw that her dress and heels were gone. He couldn't remember if she fell asleep with him because the last thing he remembered was her looking at him as he drifted off. The only trace of last night was the empty water bottle on the floor and the damp spot he felt on the bed. For a few seconds he thought he might have been stuck with the bill for this expensive looking room but he heard someone talking out in the main room.

After putting on his clothes, he walked into the main room of the suite which was huge, something he was too busy to notice last night. There was another set of doors, directly across from the bedroom he slept in, through which he saw a messy bed with the dress from last night draped along the bottom. The blonde was sitting at a desk typing on a laptop and talking to someone in French. When she noticed him standing there she interrupted whoever she was talking to and then hung up.

"There are croissants and coffee if you'd like have breakfast," she said as she gestured towards the food.

"Great," he said as he walked over. "I'm starving."

She smirked.

Her phone chimed and she glanced at it before saying, "I'll be in meetings all day." It was only then that it clicked into his mind that she was wearing a business suit. "Will you be dancing somewhere tonight?"

"Probably."

"Do you know where?"

He shook his head.

She pulled out a business card from her purse and wrote something on the back before holding it out. "Be there at 11:30 and give this to the doorman."

He took it from her and looked at it. The business card was completely white with two French words printed in black on the front and what looked to be a street address. On the back was more French, only in elegant written cursive. He didn't understand any of it. Before he could ask her about any of it, she stood up, picked up her laptop and began walking towards the entrance.

"I have to leave, but you may stay if you'd like," she said as she walked through the doors.

He had no idea what to do but he didn't come to Paris to sit in a hotel room all day long, even if it was the largest and most luxurious one he had ever been in. After eating and showering, he went back to the hostel where the guys there make a few jokes in multiple languages at his expense. It seemed like the only mission the guys there had was to sleep with as many French women as possible before they had to go back to wherever they came from. It got around that Mike hadn't spent the night away from the hostel the entire week he had been there so he expected the jokes to come and he didn't mind.

After some sightseeing alone during the day, the guys he hung out with the most decided they wanted to go clubbing. He came along because he had nothing to do and they had the same taste in clubs. All of them preferred places that weren't too packed for different reasons. They liked them because they thought it was easier to pick up women and he liked them because there was more room to dance.

As with every other instance, he lost track of time as he danced and before he knew it, it was 11:15 and had to decide whether he even wanted to go. He didn't know or owe the blonde but the sex was pretty damn good so the choice was easy. He rushed out of the club. It took a few minutes to track down a taxi and many more minutes for the taxi to bring him to the address on the card. By the time he arrived, it was just past midnight.

He had hoped to walk right into the club but there was a doorman dressed in a black suit at the front of a line of well-dressed people that stretched to the next block. There was a moment of panic before he remembered what she had said and walked up to the man. He could feel the eyes of every single person in line on him as he handed the card over. The man read the back of the card then looked him over and Mike felt more and more underdressed in his jeans and polo shirt by the second with all those eyes on him.

Finally, the man spoke into his radio. When the reply came, he opened the door and waved Mike in, much to the ire of the people in line. There was another man in a black suit inside, holding open an elevator, who told him to go up to the top floor.

The first thing he noticed when the doors to the elevator opened was how much quieter it was compared to the first floor. Instead of dubstep trying to jam itself into his brain, a soothing trance beat filled the air which was a nice change from what he normally heard. Taking a few steps forward, he looked around for the blonde but all he saw were dancing people. Wandering around the dance floor, he wondered if the blonde had already left. She seemed to be the type of person who got what she wanted the moment she wanted it. Although, he had been let into the club which he took as a good sign, so he continued to look.

Like the day before, he saw her blonde hair before anything else. As he got closer he found her dancing with some guy in the middle of the floor. The guy was grinding on her pretty heavily but she didn't seem too interested. Jealously didn't even enter his mind since he had just met her and didn't really know what the hell was going on.

The one good thing about being so underdressed was he stood out and she spotted him as he walked towards them. Without a word to the other guy, she left him and began to walk towards Mike.

"You're late," she said as she pushed him backwards.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her against him. "Couldn't decide if I wanted to come or not."

The difference between the way you danced to dubstep and trance was what each type of music allowed. Dubstep was solely comprised of fast beats; trance could range from even faster beats to something that bordered on slow. While he would never consider trance to be romantic because of the heavy bass line, the slower trance songs could be much more sexual than the always fast dubstep. The blonde seemed to understand that too.

Mike wouldn't have called her the best dancer he knew, but she was more than competent as she ground against him and ran her hands up and down his body. He returned the favor and she moaned into his ear when his hands grazed the more sensitive parts of her body. He didn't know how many songs they danced like this for, but her moans had turned into whimpers and he could see her nipples more and more prominently against her dress.

When she grabbed his hand and pulled him off the floor, he figured she couldn't take it anymore and they would be heading back to her place. Instead, she pulled him to a corner of the floor into a secluded booth where she shoved him onto a seat where they couldn't be seen by the people dancing. His brain couldn't believe it when she undid his belt and pants and pulled down his zipper. Her hand reached into of his boxers and stroked him a few times, making him groan. After smirking at him, she pulled his cock out and stroked it a few more times.

She straddled him and he could feel her heat pressing against him. When she rocked back and forth, they both groaned out of pleasure and frustration. Her hand reached down between them, gripped his cock, and settled it just inside of her. She sank down and they groaned again, completely out of pleasure this time, not stopping until he was completely inside of her. Rocking back and forth, she pressed her mouth against his neck to try and keep quiet. He gritted his teeth as he moved his hips up and down as best he could, trying to drive himself deeper and deeper into her. They had already run most of the marathon on the dance floor so this was just a mad sprint to the finish. His shoulder in her mouth. Her hair in his hands.

He could feel a rhythmic ache in his shoulder from where she had bit him. It matched his pounding heart and heavy breathing as he recovered from their race. Her breathing was just as hard as she continued to slowly grind in his lap, trying to prolong her pleasure. Dropping his face into the crook of her neck, he could smell cherries with a hint of vanilla. And the slight musk from her sweat. The combination was intoxicating.

His lips touched her neck, just behind her right ear, and he tasted the salt on her skin. She trembled on top of and around him. Her breathing slowed and she whispered into his ear, "Now, aren't you glad you came?"

That double entendre drew a tired chuckle from Mike before he said, "I don't even know your name."

There was a long pause before she said, "Quinn."

"I'm Mike."

"I never asked for yours," she whispered. "Now, I'm going back to my place. Are you going to come with me?"

He could feel her laughing at her little joke and it made him laugh too.

They repeated these things, with minor differences, for a few days. He hadn't planned on meeting anyone on his European trip, but the sex was great and sleeping Quinn's hotel room was infinitely better than the hostel. Plus, whatever this was couldn't be serious. All they did was meet up at a club of her choosing. She would drop whatever guy who was dancing with her to dance with him and then go back to her place to have sex. He hated to sound like such a douchebag of a guy but his situation was fucking awesome.

By now, he was comfortable enough to take a shower before he left which was nice because the community shower in the hostel lacked hot water. Some days Quinn would be gone by the time he woke up but she always left him a business card for the club she wanted him to be at that night. Other days she sat at her desk, typing on her laptop and talking on the phone, while he ate as much as he wanted to before leaving. He noted with a bit of embarrassment that she had more and more food on the desk with each passing day.

About a week of this went by until he found her standing in the doorway to the bedroom one morning when he opened the doors.

"I need to go to Berlin for a few days," she said.

Like that, his time in heaven was over. He knew it couldn't have lasted forever but he still felt disappointed that this was over. Although, it was probably for the best considering he didn't know her at all.

"Oh. I guess—" he started to say before she stepped up to him, pressed a hand to his chest, and grinned.

"Would you like to join the mile high club?"

From the acts of public sex she had initiated, he figured that she would have some plan to get them both into one of the restrooms in the first class section of the plane. He was unprepared as the Mercedes Benz drove past the main terminals, down a restricted road, and stopped inside a hanger. He slowly got out of the car, not quite able to believe they were parked next to a private jet. It made complete sense though as he stood there and thought about it.

"She's beautiful isn't she?" someone said with an accent he couldn't place.

His eyes were drawn to Quinn in one of the endless number of dresses she owned.

"Yes, she is."

"She's a Gulfstream G550, best jet in the world," the man said taking a few steps towards the plane.

Mike had to stifle a laugh when he realized the man was talking about the plane and not the woman beside it. He couldn't hide the grin when he saw the contrast of their luggage, his ratty backpack and her suitcases made by a company he had never heard of, as people carried it towards the plane.

"Amused by something?"

"My backpack doesn't really belong here."

"You're right. It doesn't," she said so matter of factly it was like calling the sky blue before turning away to speak with the man with the accent.

That accent turned out to be German as Quinn began speaking to the man in the language. He had to stop himself from staring too much at her in wonder. She noticed him anyway and gestured for him to come closer.

"Time to go," she said as she walked away, just as he approached her.

The interior of the plane was the bordered on being as luxurious as the hotel they had just left with a leather l-shaped sofa lining one side of the plane and a bar behind a pair captain's chairs on the other. Plush carpet lined the floor and there were a pair of flat screen TVs at either end of the cabin. Not for the first time, he wondered just who she was.

Quinn took a seat on the sort section of the sofa and he joined her. There were no seatbelts. The German boarded the plane with another person and they went into the cockpit. After a minute the plane began to move and he heard the briefest pre-flight announcement ever which just said they would be taking off shortly and the flight time would be about an hour and a half.

"That gives us about an hour. Can't really do anything on the descent," she said as she ran her hand up and down his thigh. "We'll be too tired."

He chuckled and started pulling up the hem of her dress. "Does that mean takeoff is fair game?"

Without a warning, the plane's engines powered up and pressed them back into the sofa.

Leaning over, she said, "Wait until we're in the air. Wouldn't want your application into the club to be interrupted." She gripped him through his shorts. "We'll have to make sure to be thorough."

Their time in Berlin was just like their time in Paris. Only, she was gone from their enormous suite every day until late at night which meant they didn't go dancing and, when she did get back, she went directly into the other bedroom without a glance at him. Obviously, that meant no sex. So, it really was nothing like Paris.

His days were wandering around the city as best as he could without any information about it and wondering what the hell he was doing here. He never thought he'd be the type of person that was swayed by a bit of money and a vague of promise of sex, but here he was walking alone by the Olympic Stadium. At least he was getting to see Berlin for almost no money.

The food from room service was befitting for the luxury hotel they were staying in and he had been slowly working his way down the menu. Tonight, he ate steak which he was halfway through when he heard the door open. Quinn hadn't come back this early since they arrived in Berlin, so he was surprised, and a bit amused, when she sat down next to him and stole his fork. Closing her eyes and tilting her head back, she ate the piece of steak on it then held out the fork.

"More?"

She nodded as best she could. He cut off another piece of steak and handed the fork back to her. They repeated this process until the steak was gone and she was flailing a hand around for the nonexistent next piece.

"Sorry, all gone."

She lifted her head up and glared at the empty plate like it had wronged her. That made him laugh which brought the glare on to him which made him laugh even harder. Instead of being upset with him, like he figured she would be, she stood up, stripped off her suit jacket, and began unbuttoning her blouse.

"I'm still hungry," she said, leaving a trail of clothes on her way to his bedroom.

They flew back to Paris the next day, not quite repeating what they had done on the previous flight but coming close. Quinn wanted to make sure there was nothing wrong with his membership.

The car brought them back to the hotel she was at before. The bellhops quickly transferred their things to a cart and went off ahead into the lobby. Mike waited for Quinn, but her phone rang and she told him to go on ahead and get the room since she needed to take the. He shrugged and went into the lobby then realized he had no idea how he would get that room. All he knew was her first name and he didn't even know the room number since there was nothing written anywhere on the top floor.

He could see her standing outside on the phone while the bellhops stood there looking at him. Figuring it couldn't hurt to try he went up to the front desk and tried to get a room. Thankfully, everyone there spoke English. That didn't help with getting a room though, since everything was booked.

"Did you get the room?" Quinn asked as she walked up next to him.

Mike jerked his head towards the man behind the desk and said, "He says everything is booked."

Quinn narrowed her eyes and then spoke rapidly in French to the man. It sounded like they were arguing and the man eventually went back into an office.

"I hate incompetence," she said.

After a minute, the man came back out, talking with a woman. The woman's eyes widened when she saw Quinn. She rushed over to the desk and Mike could kind of make out that she was apologizing quite a bit while typing on the computer. He also heard "Mademoiselle Fabray" being used a lot and he figured that Fabray was her last name.

Quinn held up two fingers and the woman placed two key cards onto the desk. Quinn picked one up before sliding the other over to Mike and saying, "This is my friend Mike. I assume you understand what means?"

"Of course mademoiselle," the woman said with a nod. "Enjoy your stay and sorry for the confusion."

The woman resumed berating the man in French again, but that faded as they walked to the elevators. When they entered the suite, Quinn dropped what little she carried, immediately went to the desk, and pulled out her laptop. Mike stood in near the entrance, only moving when the bellhops entered to drop off their luggage.

"Hey," he said, picking up his backpack. "I think I should go back to the hostel."

"Why?" she said, not even looking up from her laptop.

"This…isn't quite what I had planned for my trip."

"You'd rather stay in a hostel than here?"

"Well, no…but—"

"Then stay here," she said as she closed her laptop and stood up. "I'm going to have a bath. If you do decide to stay, order us some dinner."

He didn't even know why he had done that. If he had told his past-self where he was staying, he would have been thrilled to not be at a shitty hostel and then punched his present-self for even thinking about leaving. So after pausing for a minute, he ordered dinner.

"Escargot and cassoulet?"

"When in Paris…"

She sat across from him with still damp hair. "I don't think I'll be able to move after we eat."

That was the most personal thing she had said to him and it caused him to stare at her. Their conversations up this moment had consisted of things like, "hello" and "goodbye," or the words that only came when two people were fucking and nothing else.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just—"

"Worried you won't be able to sleep with me tonight?"

"That's not—"

"Don't worry." Her foot began a trip up his leg. "You can still have me."

Mike watched as Quinn, back arching and eyes fluttering, found her release as she ground against him. The heat and contractions around his cock were too much and he followed her. She fell onto his chest and he could feel aftershocks coursing through her body. After a minute of heavy breathing by both of them, she rolled off to his side.

"I love your abs," she said as her hand found them.

Laughing, he turned his head and found her staring at him. Even with the air conditioning, there was a slight sheen of sweat covering her entire body that glimmered under the city lights from the window. There was just something about a woman in the afterglow of an orgasm that made them even more beautiful. He figured that those few seconds were the only time when nothing else was on their minds, just the feeling of release. Her face, worthy enough to launch a million ships for, held a small smile but it eventually disappeared.

Not knowing why, he closed his eyes and calmed his breathing. After a few minutes he felt the bed shift, heard a rustling of clothing, and then after a few breaths the doors closed.

His eyes opened again and it would be a long time before he could fall asleep while staring at the empty space next to him.

A/N: Trying something a little new here. Let me know how you like it. Also, I'm desperate for a beta. Shoot me a PM if you're interested.