A/N – In order to set up the scenario I needed for this story, I have replicated part of a conversation (with some modifications) from Series 1, episode 4. .No plagiarism is intended. Doc Martin belongs to Buffalo Pictures.

"Elaine, when is my next appointment?" asked Martin, walking into the reception area.

"Er ... five minutes. It's Mark Mylow," replied Elaine, hastily shoving her magazine under the desk. "By the way, are you going to the Portwenn Players Dance at the village hall tonight?"

"No! Ghastly!" objected Martin, curling his lip in distaste.

"It's a great night if you want to get your tongue down someone's throat."

"Really?" replied Martin, his eyes widening.

"Yeah. It's the night when half of Portwenn's babies are conceived. Check your records."

"Er ... send Mark in when he arrives."

Martin returned to his office, closed the door and sat down at his desk. Elaine's words rankled in his head.

"It's a great night if you want to get your tongue down someone's throat."

"Mmmmm", thought Martin, deep in contemplation.

Suddenly the concept of the village dance did not seem quite so horrendous. He would dearly love to get his tongue down Louisa Glasson's throat. In fact, there was another orifice belonging to Louisa that he would also love to explore, but the throat would definitely be a start! To his irritation, locals had been discussing the dance for many months now and he could not understand the hype. It wasn't as though the dance was the only social event on the Portwenn calendar – only last month there was a competition to determine which farmer most looked like his/her pig!

That morning he had walked to the village and noticed a crowd gathered at the waterfront. Upon approaching, he realised that Bert Large was selling tickets for the dance. Somehow, Louisa had accidentally purchased two tickets and was trying to palm one off on him, but he stated, quite brusquely, that he had no intention of going. The idea of spending the night crammed into the village hall with a load of sweaty, possibly drunk, imbeciles, was odious in the extreme. But now? If there was the slightest truth in Elaine's statement? Possibilities were opening up to him ... maybe he and Louisa? Perhaps he should consider going after all... strictly in a medical capacity, of course! It was going to be a hot night and if people were over exerting themselves on the dance floor, then surely it was his duty as Portwenn's resident medico to oversee the health and safety side of things. Then, of course, there was the risk, with so many people being jammed in, of ankle sprains or stepping on people's toes. It would be almost negligent of him not to attend. Martin took his medical role in Portwenn very seriously and felt a definite sense of responsibility towards the villagers. Well, that was settled. He would attend the dance – strictly as a professional.

As he sat there, deep in thought, he was visited by a dawning revelation. Previously he had thought it was very careless of Louisa to accidentally purchase two tickets and then try to get rid of one – but what if she had purchased two tickets on purpose! Bert had been standing right next to her when she had offered the ticket to Martin. She could have easily handed the ticket back to Bert and received her money back. Was it possible ... no surely not ... but could she have bought two tickets with the intention of asking someone as a date ...him? This seemed highly unlikely, but the longer Martin stewed over this conundrum, the more it became likely that Louisa may have purchased the additional ticket ...for him? Martin was an extremely humble man and not one accustomed to 'tooting his own horn'. Even the fifteen year old, love- struck Melanie had identified that he did not "go on" about his many talents. In particular, his lack of confidence and experience with the opposite sex made him very impervious to feminine cues, flirting, gestures, expressions and analogies. Medicine was so logical, scientific, straightforward and obvious. In Martin's opinion, women were none of these things and nuances were completely lost on him. If Louisa wanted to make any headway with him at all, she needed to come straight out with it ... ask him out on a date ... not pretend that she was trying to offload an unwanted ticket. A knock at the door interrupted Martin's reflections.

"It's just me Doc," said Mark, poking his head around the door.

"Mark. What can I do for you?" said Martin, irritated by the interruption and getting straight to the point, as usual.

"Me? Nope. I'm fine ...fine," replied Mark nervously. "I'm perky...I won't bother you with why."

"Good," thought Martin, returning to his paperwork.

This was not the response Mark had envisaged so he pressed the point. "I've got a date, that's why."

"Good," replied Martin, blandly. "Is that what you ...?"

Mark looked rather dumbfounded, although Martin found that often to be the case with Mark, so he was still unsure if Mark actually required a consultation or not. Mark carefully closed the door and stepped into the room.

"Well... there was one small thing," he stammered. "As you know ... I've not been hugely successful with people of the opposite sex ... and ... lately ... er ... do you get those emails about?...Or is it just me?...I've been wondering ...if maybe... the problem was a ...size thing?"

Martin's stomach dropped through the floor! On several other occasions, Mark had tried to engage Martin on matters pertaining to his personal life and up until now, Martin had successfully managed to divert the conversation, but in his own consulting rooms, he was well and truly trapped! He felt his face burn with heat and he tried desperately to maintain a neutral expression.

"Apparently ... whatever a woman tells you ... it does matter," spluttered Mark, taking a seat and looking downcast.

Martin knew he had to say something. "Er... do you feel you have a problem..."

"Well, I don't know," rushed Mark, his words spilling over in agitation. "I mean ... in the shower ... is one thing ... but you just can't tell. I was hoping you could tell me what is normal."

"There's a range of normality."

"I mean, it's not like I've measured." Mark took a very long pause. "Do you think six? Six would be normal?"

Martin could not believe the direction that the conversation was heading and saw the chance for escape.

"I'd say six would be normal. Yes." he said, with encouragement. "Good. That's that sorted."

Martin stood up and took a step towards the door, indicating the end of the consultation, but Mark continued to sit in his chair, wearing a worried expression. There was an awkward silence for several long moments.

"Right," replied Mark uncertainly. "... so fiveish would be a bit...?"

"Not necessarily," said Martin still trying to sound encouraging.

Mark continued, like a dog with a bone. "And a little bit less than five ... that wouldn't be good, would it?"

"I'd ...er... have to make enquiries."

"If we were talking seven or eight, you wouldn't have to make enquiries, would you?"

Martin's silence indicated acquiescence and he unwillingly returned to his seat. He realised he wasn't going to be able to escape that easily. Mark reached into his pocket and extracted a cardboard box, raucously labelled "BIG BOY".

"I've been getting these off the internet ... an arm and a leg, mind."

Martin reached for the box and examined it carefully. "Well, I wish you had told me. I could have got you these for what they are worth ... which, by the way, isn't much."

"That's easy for you to say. You haven't got my problem. You haven't got a date with the woman of your dreams," Mark said, with a sparkle in his eye.

"Who's that?"

"Louisa," boasted Mark, with a proud smile.

Martin sat bolt upright. "What makes you think that?" he cautiously asked.

"Think what?"

"That the woman of my dreams..." Martin hesitated, as realisation hit him with full force. "Louisa ... Louisa ... is the woman of your dreams."

"I've always ... you know, from afar ... too frightened to say anything and then out of the blue she invited me to the jamboree tonight. She's soooo ... Have you noticed the way she moves? Phew! Sometimes ... between you and me ... I go by the school just to catch a glimpse of her."

Martin felt as though he could not continue this debacle any longer. He felt ill in the pit of his stomach. He had no idea that Mark possessed such feelings towards Louisa. He was also suffering acute embarrassment for having nearly let slip that Louisa was the woman of his dreams and that he, also, passed the school often, in order to have a surreptitious peek at his goddess. He was definitely going to the dance now! Seeing Mark and Louisa dance, and possibly flirt all night, would be a harrowing experience, but surely preferable to not knowing at all what went on and then hearing village gossip. In a determined fashion he stood up and walked towards the door.

"Well, I've got other patients to see and I'm sure you're busy."

"There's no rush. There are no other patients in the waiting room. You see, I have another problem. I want to look my best tonight, but I think I look a bit overweight and frumpy. What do you think Doc?"

"I think you have perfect eyesight."

The ridicule behind this comment seemed to penetrate Mark's good natured elation.

"You are always rushing me out the door. I've only been here five minutes" retorted Mark, with annoyance. "I've been friendly to you since you came to Portwenn and invited you to my place. I've still got that bottle of single malt Scotch whisky unopened. Don't think I haven't noticed. No wonder you are such a good doctor. They say laughter is the best medicine. Your patients only have to look at your ears."

Martin returned to his desk, but remained standing. Mark also stood up and the two men glared at each other across the desk. Martin was trying to banish the image of Mark feasting his eyes on Louisa's body and possibly getting his tongue down Louisa's throat tonight. Mark was fuming that he was being unceremoniously dismissed by a man he looked up to and who could provide him with answers to his problems.

Mark broke the silence. "You always talk to me as if I'm an idiot."

"Of course I do," retaliated Martin with acerbity. "How else would you understand me?"

"It was a mistake for me to try to get help from you."

"If you want to know about mistakes – you should ask your parents."

This temporarily put Mark off guard. He knew he could not compete with Martin's superior mental processes, but he was not going down without a fight.

"I'd like to see things from your point of view, but I can't get my head that far up my arse," Mark reciprocated tartly.

Martin was more impressed than he cared to admit and took a few seconds before re-entering the fray.

"If you were twice as smart, you would still be stupid."

"At least I can talk to people," quipped Mark. "We all evolved from the apes, but you didn't evolve far enough!"

"Out of one hundred thousand sperm, you were the fastest?" This comment baffled Mark momentarily, so Martin went in for the kill. "If ignorance is bliss, you must be the happiest person in Portwenn."

A loud rapping at the door interrupted their melee.

"WHAT?" yelled Martin.

Elaine cautiously poked her head around the door. "Doc!" she admonished. "You can be heard! Anyway, Miss Glasson is here to see you." Elaine fully opened the door to reveal Louisa standing several feet behind her, wearing a startled expression.

"LOUISA!" exclaimed Martin and Mark simultaneously, each taking a step forwards.

"Sorry. I can see that you are busy," said Louisa, with an apologetic smile. "I'll come back later."

"No. I can see you now. Mark was just leaving," answered Martin, eagerly, taking another step forward.

"No, I wasn't," countered Mark, also taking a step forward.

"Well, just quickly then. I'm on the catering committee for the dance tonight. Dr Simms has a few large, plastic crates in your shed that he normally loans us to put ice in for the drinks. I was wondering if I could please borrow them, Martin."

"Of course."

"Those crates are quite large, Louisa. I'll help you carry them down the hill," interjected Mark, eagerly taking several steps towards the door.

Martin laid a restraining hand on Mark. "That won't be necessary. I will drop them at the village hall after surgery tonight."

Mark turned to glare at Martin. "That won't be any good at all. Those drinks will need to be on ice well before that. I'll just take them now."

Martin returned the glare. "I will take them down during my lunch break."

"No can do, Doc. There won't be anyone at the hall then. It will be locked. I have a key. I'll get them now," reciprocated Mark. He managed to successfully shake off Martin's restraining hand and gleefully bounded out of the surgery. Martin clamped his mouth in annoyance.

"Thank you, Martin," said Louisa. "I'll make sure they are returned tomorrow. So ... I guess I won't see you at the dance tonight then?"

"Well ... er ... actually ... I have decided that I will probably turn up ... for a short while at, at least. It will be a hot night. I think I need to keep an eye on things," muttered Martin in an embarrassed fashion.

"Oh," cried Louisa, with a hint of delight in her voice and a cheeky smile. "You will have to save a dance for me then."

"That might be a bit difficult."

"Because you don't know how to dance?"

"Actually, I do know how. I learned at school. It was compulsory."

"Well, why can't we have a dance then?"

"It ... er ... might be a bit difficult ... a bit awkward ... for your date."

"My date? I don't have a date!"

"You don't? I ... er ... thought ..."

"What, Martin?"

"Well, it's just that ... um ... Mark said something about you buying him a ticket."

Louisa's eyes widened and her face registered utter horror. "He doesn't think?"

Martin gave a small nod.

"Oh, no," gasped Louisa. "I actually bought the second ticket for ... but then ... sorry Martin ... I have to dash. I have to catch up with him and explain!"

Louisa raced through Martin's kitchen and he heard the door slam. He saw her fly past his surgery window, but then she stopped abruptly, came back to his window and tapped on it. Martin ran over and opened the window wide.

"I should warn you," she panted, leaning into the room. "The band we have hired for tonight ... they are only amateurs."

Martin was instantly transfixed and his surgery ceased to exist for him. She was standing very close, with eyes that sparkled due to the exertion of her haste. The activity had heightened the colour in her face and the aura of her perfume mesmerised him further. God, she was beautiful. Her tousled hair was so thick and abundant and he wanted desperately to touch its silkiness. He found his rate of respiration increased to match hers, even without the stimulus of exercise. Her face was alluring as she held his gaze. Martin felt an unusual tightening in his chest and then experienced a startling epiphany – he was in love! Prior to this, he classified his feelings towards Louisa as strong attraction. He had nothing to compare it with; having never previously been truly in love. He had thought he had been in love once before, but he knew now that it wasn't the case. The emotions that were surging through his body were not remotely comparative to his previous experience. This euphoria was totally unknown to him. His feelings were utterly involuntary – he had no control over them. Was that what it was like, to be in love - to have no discipline over his emotions – to allow another person to control his sentiments, govern his actions and dominate his thoughts? If so, then the situation was almost scary, but his logical, surgeon's brain had deserted him and he was at the point that he didn't really care. To experience this – whatever this was – was definitely worth it. He was unaware of how long he remained in this halcyon state of oblivion. His whole being was filled with the oneness that was Louisa. He knew then that Mark didn't stand a chance. While these reflections passed rapidly through Martin's head, Louisa also appeared to be in a hypnotic state. They remained silent for several moments; neither wishing to break the bond between them.

"Well," whispered Martin in a husky tone. "We all have to start somewhere."

Louisa held the connection for several more moments, then blushed involuntarily and with a bewitching smile, walked away.

The end.