A/N: So this is already posted in my one shots collection. I did a little editing once I decided to make it into a full story.

New Orleans, July 1963

Olivia pulled her white cardigan tighter around her slight body as she stood on the curb, her hand outstretched and waving to hail a taxi. She was thankful when one finally stopped in front of her as she didn't want to be late to her first teachers' meeting. She opened the door as a particularly chilly breeze swept through the air, lifting her yellow sunhat off and whisking it away.

"Oh!" She looked at the back of the cabbie's head. "Will you stay here a moment? I've lost my hat."

He grunted a reply and she quickly turned to the street, scanning to see where her hat had gone. She walked away from the cab, her eyes searching for a flash of yellow. It couldn't have gotten very far after all. Her eyes landed on a tall, dark-haired man and lit up when she spotted her hat in his large hands. He didn't look particularly menacing as he watched her walk toward him. He wore blue coveralls, the top half hanging around his waist and exposing a tight white undershirt. A cigarette dangled from his lips. She smiled politely as she came to a stop in front of him. He spit out his cigarette and stubbed it out with his steel toed boot. He was certainly handsome though his unsmiling face made her a bit wary.

"You caught my hat," she said, blushing as he unabashedly looked her over. She felt quite exposed in her yellow eyelet-hemmed A-line sundress and thin cotton pearl-buttoned cardigan. She smoothed her soft curls, her eyes flickering shyly to his. "Thank you."

He licked his lips, holding the hat out to her. He lifted his chin. "Your cab's gone."

Olivia looked back and frowned. "I'll never get another one."

"I'll get you one," he volunteered. Olivia's eyes widened as she watched him step off the curb and swagger into oncoming traffic. He stood in the road for a moment before a taxi came to a jolting stop before him. He looked at her expectantly as he walked to the cab's back door and opened it. After recovering from her shock, Olivia hurried to the cab and got in.

She smiled at him. "Thank you."

He nodded and she thought he would close the door but he didn't. Instead, he walked around it and leaned over so that he was looking at her. "I'm Fitz."

"It's nice to meet you, Fitz. I'm Olivia." His eyes were the same color as the sky, and his curls were almost as beautiful as hers, though his were slicked back on his head with what she guessed was pomade. She didn't particularly like men who pomaded their hair, but he was handsome enough for it to work.

"You're really pretty. You should let me take you out." He didn't ask, which was odd to her. And something about the cockiness of his approach made her want to say no.

"I'm sure you're very nice, but…" She wasn't even sure he was nice. He hadn't even said "you're welcome" when she thanked him. He had yet to even smile at her.

"Come on." He gave a smirk that softened into a smile. Olivia was surprised by how sweet it made him look. "Please, Ms. Olivia."

"That would be nice." A reluctant smile broke through. She pulled a slip of paper from her purse and hastily scribbled her name and number on it. "Call me with the details."

He smiled again and she hoped he never stopped. He playfully flicked the brim of her hat. "You keep a hold on this thing."

"I'll certainly try." He smiled at her as he stepped back and closed the cab's door. Olivia gave him a little wave as the cab drove away. She told herself to expect nothing of it. Fitz certainly wasn't her kind of man, handsome as he was. She told herself that even if he did call, she wouldn't agree to the date. She told herself that it could never work, no matter how strong the fireworks he set off in her stomach.

XXXXX

The phone was ringing when Olivia entered her apartment. She set down her purse on the small table beside the door then went to answer it, perching on the arm of her little floral settee. "Hello."

"Hello, Olivia. I thought it might be time you answered the phone for your mother," Maya Pope replied.

Olivia tried not to frown. She loved her mother, but Maya had a way of working her way under her daughter's skin with her pushing and insisting on "the way things should be." "I just got home. I had a teacher's meeting."

"Hmm," Maya replied. Olivia hadn't expected her to ask how it had gone, but she hoped just a little that her mother would take an interest in her only daughter's career. "Do you know who's getting married?"

"Who?" Olivia didn't care, but she knew it was why her mother had called.

"Joanna Gilbert. To a banker." Olivia rolled her eyes. Marrying a man with some status, no matter how menial, was Maya's greatest accomplishment and she wanted nothing less for her daughter. "She's got horse teeth and it was only her mother's meddling that made marriage even remotely possible, but still. A wedding is a wedding."

Olivia rolled her eyes again. "And what's happiness when you can have meager societal means?"

"Don't be sarcastic Olivia. It isn't attractive on anyone. And—"

"And no man will have me if I keep it up." It was immature, mimicking her mother, but these little man-catching lessons had been a part of Olivia's life since she was a debutante, and to say that she was tired of them was to say that water was wet or something even more banal.

"Mock all you want, but I'm right." She could hear her mother's frown. "Honestly, sometimes I think you're determined to see yourself an old maid."

"What's so wrong with being an old maid? I can get some cats, stop shaving, and eat all I want. It sounds like a good time to me." She was enjoying herself, needling her mother.

"All I'm trying to say is that the right man will get you to the right places, Olivia. The world is changing for colored men. That means it'll soon be changing for us too. The right man will put you ahead of the curve."

"Mother, I'm starting my first real teaching job in the fall. A girl from college wants me to write for her women's magazine. I'm handling the curve just fine. Besides, I don't want some stuffy society man. They all want to talk about themselves all the time and I'm just a sounding board. I want to be with a man who finds me interesting, a man who thrills me, a man who's lived more than going to college out of state."

"Well fine. When the circus comes back to town, I'll fix you up with the lion tamer."

Maya and Olivia talked for a bit longer before Olivia had to extract herself from the conversation. Talking to her mother always made her want to tear her hair out, mostly because Maya had the habit of hearing what she wanted and pretending nothing else was said.

Olivia found her mind drifting to Fitz. She wondered if he was thinking about her. She wondered about the chestnut hair on his hands, the biceps and abs hugged so lovingly by his t-shirt. She made herself stop fantasizing about him. He wasn't the one. The men her mother chose weren't either but that didn't mean she had to go completely opposite. She needed to find a happy medium, and a greasy mechanic wasn't it.

XXXXX

Olivia emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her body and one around her head, and her eyes drifted to the phone. He hadn't called yet. She told herself that she wasn't going to worry about it. But she found herself wanting him to call. She slipped on her nightgown and opened her window, letting in the sounds of the jazz band that played on the corner every night. She smiled when the phone rang. She looked at the clock as she picked up the phone. It was a little after 10. "Hello."

"Hi," he replied. She hoped he was smiling. "It's Fitz…from earlier."

She smiled, wondering how he could think she'd forgotten him. "It's awfully late to be calling, Fitz."

"It's only 10. I just got off work. You weren't asleep were you?"

"Not yet."

"Good. Get up. I wanna take you somewhere."

It was too late for a phone call. A date was out of the question. "It's definitely too late for that."

"No it isn't. The club doesn't even open until 11. It's this little jazz place in the Quarter. They've got great food. We can dance and everything."

"I really don't think—"

"Come on." She was willing to bet he was smiling then, just from the way his voice changed. "I'll tell you what: We'll stay for half an hour. If you absolutely hate it when the time is up, I'll bring you home with my sincerest apologies."

"I suppose it couldn't hurt to go out for a bit." She smiled in spite of herself. "I live on Cherry Street. Do you know where that is?"

"Yes ma'am I do. How long do you need to get ready?"

"Not very long."

"I can be there in half an hour. Is that long enough? I know girls like you need time to do stuff."

"Girls like me?" She frowned, wondering exactly what sort of girl she was "like."

"You know, beautiful and high class. A princess."

She could tell from his tone that he hadn't meant any offense though his comment didn't make her smile immediately. "Oh. Well thank you. Half an hour is plenty of time."

"Okay. I guess I should clean myself up a little too. I'll see you in a bit."

They said their goodbyes then hung up. Olivia took off her nightgown and went to her closet. She had no idea what to wear to a club in the Quarter. That wasn't really her scene. She decided to do her hair and makeup first. After blow drying her damp hair, she set it with hot rollers as she sat at her vanity. She drew her eyeliner on like Marilyn Monroe, thick and winged, and mascaraed her eyelashes until she had bedroom eyes. She painted on red lipstick, the shade her mother had always said was for prostitutes, smirking at the mirror. She couldn't believe she was doing so much for a man, one who probably wouldn't even compliment her on her effort.

She got up and went back to the closet, looking through her dresses with dismay. She was examining a purple cocktail dress with a pleated skirt when the doorbell rang. She looked at the clock and was impressed to see that he was right on time. Wrapping her ivory silk robe around her, she went to the window and looked down at the front stoop below. Fitz stood on the steps, looking up at the windows. He smiled at her. "Hi."

"Hi. I'll buzz you in," she replied. She found herself grinning as she went to her front door to hit the buzzer that opened the building's front doors. A moment later there was a knock at her door. She opened the door and had her first chance to really look him over. He wore a black t-shirt and black pants. His hair looked much cleaner and more carefully styled. Another cigarette dangled from his lips. Olivia hated to admit how nicely he cleaned up.

She forgot she was wearing only her robe until he asked, "Am I early?"

She blushed as she looked down at her robe. "No. I was just about to get dressed. I'll only be a minute. Please make yourself at home."

He took a seat on her small yellow floral settee, dwarfing it almost comically, and she went back into her bedroom. She removed her hot rollers, now cool, and shook her curls loose. She went to the closet and looked once again at her dresses. After taking out several and holding them up to her body or slipping them on, she finally pulled out a white silk strapless dress. She slipped it on and remembered that she'd stopped wearing it because of how snugly it fit. But the fit seemed appropriate for a night at a club with a man like Fitz. Thankfully she was able to get it zipped without asking him for help. She found silver peep-toe pumps, shoes her mother had vetoed on sight, and put them on then went back to the vanity. She brushed her curls into uniform waves then looked at herself in her full-length mirror. The dress's sweetheart neckline gave her the most teasing hint of cleavage, just enough to peak interest, and the pencil skirt hugged her hips divinely. She pouted at the mirror, decided tonight she would be a real sexpot like Bette Davis. She put her lipstick, compact, house key, and breath mints in a tiny silver clutch then gave herself a final look before going back into the living room. She glanced at the clock over the television, realizing her "minute" had actually been a half hour. "I'm sorry I took so long. I didn't like a thing I tried on."

"No problem." He stood and gestured to the piles of books covering her coffee table. Olivia had been weeding through her books to decide which should go in her classroom prior to her meeting. "You have a lot of books. You must be really smart."

"Well a stupid teacher never did anyone any good," she replied with a smile.

"What do you teach?"

"High school English."

He smirked. "I always hated English. It's a really impractical thing to study."

Olivia's smile twitched. "Books are a culture's only hallmarks. Without them, we have no account of our history and no way to plan for the future."

"What I mean is, Americans are builders. We're pioneers, hard workers, movers and shakers. We're not readers."

Olivia considered his thought for a moment. "I suppose we're both right. We'll have to agree to disagree on your opinion of English though."

"I'm sure I'd have paid more attention if someone like you had taught it though. You're really passionate about it." He smiled and she blushed. "We just never read anything interesting."

"All my classes are reading Hemingway in the fall."

"I've never read him." Olivia moved to the table and fished out her well-worn copy of A Farewell to Arms. She handed it to him, watching as he turned it over in his large hands to read the back cover. He looked up at her curiously. "It's a love story."

"A very good one."

He smirked. "It's gotta be about more than love, though."

"Does it have to be? Isn't love enough?" Her eyes met his shyly.

His smirk became that gentle smile that seemed to appear only to take her breath away. "I'll let you know when I finish it."

"I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will. Are you ready to go?"

"Yes." She nodded. Something about the conversation left her a little breathless. She wasn't sure if he'd felt it too but she was almost spinning. She walked ahead of him to the door.

Only when her back was to him did Fitz take the opportunity to look her over. "You look nice. Like a real lady."

Olivia looked at him over her shoulder as they stepped into the hallway. "As opposed to what?"

Fitz shrugged. "Nothing. I didn't mean anything by it. It was a compliment."

It was hard not to question everything he said when his tone was always the same. He lacked the smoother, more readable qualities of the men she'd dated in the past. She smiled apologetically. "Oh. Thank you."

They descended the stairs and stepped out into the warm night air. Fitz stuffed his free hand in his pocket, leading her toward his car. "You don't seem to like me very much, Ms. Olivia."

"I like you just fine. You're just…different from the men I'm used to dating." She glanced at him, hoping he didn't take offense.

His face betrayed nothing. "I can see that. I'm afraid I'm not very refined. Growing up like I did where I did, there wasn't much time or place for etiquette. My mother taught me manners but the finer points of class are lost on me. There's not much need for anything too highbrow in the life of a mechanic. I can show a girl a good time but I've never had occasion to learn how to treat a lady…until now that is."

Something about his honesty gave her butterflies. He was just a man and there was a magic to his simplicity that she couldn't comprehend but found enchanting nonetheless. She gave a little smile. "You'll find it's not a terribly difficult thing to learn."

"I hope not." He smiled too, looking over at her almost shyly. "Forgive me if I'm being too forward, but I really like, Ms. Olivia. When I saw you, I… I've never been so struck by a woman. I've known lots of girls. I've been with lots of girls, but you're something else entirely. You're a real lady, the kind of woman who shouldn't even glance at some slick-haired mechanic. But you're not haughty or anything. You gave me a shot when most girls would've turned me down flat."

He stopped in front of a shining black Cadillac. Fitz opened the passenger door for her, holding out his hand to help her in. Olivia smiled when he took hold of her hand, his fingertips brushing her palm. He remarked, "You've got real soft hands."

Olivia brought her other hand up to take hold of his, running her right thumb over the soft chestnut hair on the back of his hand while her left thumb moved over the calloused heel of his palm. Her eyes flickered coyly to his. "You don't."

"I work hard." She had no doubt that he did, looking over his shoulders and chest straining against the fabric of his shirt. "I try to keep them from feeling so bad but…"

He shrugged. She hadn't stopped caressing his hand, enjoying the contrast of their skins' textures. She couldn't help imagining what they would feel like if he was the one doing the caressing. She blushed at her thought. Fitz brought his other hand to her cheek, having tossed the book onto the seat. He brushed a fallen eyelash from the apple of her cheek. He held it to her lips. "Make a wish."

Olivia smiled, leaning close to blow the eyelash off his index finger, her eyes closed. She wished that he would turn out to be better than she hoped. Fitz's hand moved back to her cheek. He caressed the apple with his thumb. "Your skin feels like silk."

Her eyes flickered to his and she realized he was going to kiss her. Electricity tingled up her spine as his lips brushed hers tentatively. He hesitated, waiting to see if she would stop him. She didn't stiffen or ask him to stop—something she unquestioningly would have done with another man. She dropped his hand and it moved to her waist, lightly clasping. Her hands moved to his face. She caressed his stubbly cheeks, guessing he hadn't had time to shave in a few days. She normally detested facial hair of any sort, having been raised to believe it was a sign of low breeding, but his was gently prickly against her fingertips, smelling of strong manly soap. He also smelled of the faintest hint of motor oil, a scent that she guessed was just engrained in his skin by now. He repeated his gesture, brushing her lips with his own, this time with a little more force. Still, she didn't tense. She licked her lips, wanting more. The third time their lips connected, he his tongue ghosted the swell of her bottom lip and her mouth fell open, inviting him inside. He pulled her closer, tilted her head to deepen their kiss. His tongue was slightly rough and his mouth tasted of strong mouthwash. His hand moved from her face to her waist, pressing their bodies together completely. Olivia found her own hands wandering from his face to his shoulders then to his broad back, flexing beneath the soft cotton of his shirt. Her mother would have fallen dead at the knowledge of her daughter kissing on the first date—before the date had even begun at that. Maya's frowning face in her mind made her do the unthinkable. She stopped kissing him. Fitz felt her tension immediately and stopped. He let her go and she stepped back. Olivia touched the back of her neck nervously, trying desperately to make her heart settle down.

Fitz looked at her apologetically, hoping he hadn't offended her. "I'm sorry. I got carried away."

She looked up at him and smiled softly, moving to get to the car. Fitz stepped out of her way and helped her inside. Just before she got in, she looked up at him. "Don't be sorry."

They rode to the club in mostly silence. Olivia sat as far from him as she could without appearing to be deliberately putting space between them. She could hear the club's music before they went inside. She wasn't sure what to make of the small building, called simply Lou's. There were men out front shooting dice who greeted Fitz warmly. She guessed the place was a normal hangout of his.

They went inside and Olivia looked around with interest. The walls were painted a deep shade of burgundy. The small single room was lit by gold paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling and small round tables lined the perimeter of the makeshift dancefloor. A few couples sat, their heads close together as they talked. A jazz quartet took up most of the small stage, filling the place with thumping music that seemed almost too loud and lively to be just four instruments.

"What are they doing?" Olivia asked, looking around at the intertwined couples on the dancefloor. They didn't seem to be dancing so much as they were grinding against each other wantonly.

Fitz shrugged. "Doesn't really have a name."

Olivia stared, fascinated, at a tall couple in the center of the floor. The woman, a tall blonde wearing a deep blue dress with a high slit, wound in an almost serpent-like way, her top half bending backward until she was almost folded in half. Her hips never lost their rhythm, moving in tandem with those of a dark-haired man who held her waist. Olivia had never seen anything like it. Fitz led her to a table in a corner, already occupied by a dark-haired man puffing on a cigar.

"They let you in here? This place is really going downhill," Fitz greeted, smirking at the man who looked up at him with a smile.

"Seems this place is a haven for riff raff," he replied as he stood to shake Fitz's hand.

Fitz laughed and looked at Olivia. "Olivia this is some of the worst company you'll ever hope to keep, Stephen Finch. Watch him. He's a gangster."

"I'm a gangster? Suppose I'd have to be to hang out with bastards like you." Stephen smiled at Olivia. "I was an altar boy before he got a hold of me."

"I'm sure." She smiled politely as she shook his hand.

Fitz pulled out a chair for her and she sat down between the two men. Stephen stubbed out his cigar and took a sip of his drink. Olivia guessed it was scotch. He said, "Amanda's here. She's been asking about you."

Olivia looked at Fitz, deciding to gauge his reaction to the mention of "Amanda" before she jumped to any conclusions. His face remained neutral. "Oh yeah? It's her birthday, isn't it?"

"Yeah. She's 25." Stephen turned to Olivia. "Do I look old enough to have a 25-year-old baby sister?"

She smiled, unsure of what to tell him. He didn't look particularly old but his bleary eyes and stubbly face left her confused as to how old he actually was. "I suppose not."

Fitz laughed. "She's just being polite. You look like hell."

Olivia laughed and Fitz draped his arm over the back of her chair, smiling at her. The blonde Olivia had seen dancing approached the table. She seemed to have ditched her partner. She grinned at Fit. "Fitz you're here! I've been asking Stevie about you! He said you weren't coming!"

"I wasn't, but I wanted to show my lady friend a good time." He looked at Olivia then back at Amanda. "Amanda, this is Olivia. Liv, this is Amanda."

The women shook hands, smiling politely but coldly, simultaneously saying, "Nice to meet you."

Amanda quickly turned her attention back to Fitz. "Aren't you gonna dance with me for my birthday?"

"Well I…" He looked at Olivia unsurely.

Olivia smirked. Was he serious? He couldn't have been. But she knew it wouldn't do any good to act jealous. She couldn't properly assess the threat if Amanda thought she was intimidated. "Go on. It's her birthday. I'll be fine here with Stephen."

Fitz looked at her unsurely for a long moment before getting up. "I'll be right back."

"Take your time," she insisted, still smiling. Amanda eagerly took Fitz's hand and led him to the corner where she'd been dancing with the other man. Olivia refused to look at them as Amanda pressed her hips to Fitz's, making a show of enjoying herself. Instead, Olivia turned to Stephen. "So, Stephen, what do you do?"

He grinned. "I'm a full-time drunk. Occasionally I do construction. What do you do?"

Olivia laughed. "I'm a teacher."

"Really?" His eyes traveled over her face down to her cleavage and back. He grinned. "You don't look like a teacher."

Olivia smiled. "Thank you…I guess."

"What do you teach? Ballet or something? You look like a dancer."

Olivia blushed, trying to decide if he was deliberately flirting with her or just drunk. She hoped he was just drunk. "I teach high school English."

Stephen laughed heartily. Olivia knew then that he was properly sloshed. "My favorite class to skip in school."

"Fitz's too so I hear."

Stephen glanced over his shoulder at Amanda and Fitz. They were dancing, having a conversation that was apparently quite lively for Amanda. Olivia's smile twitched as she watched them. Stephen turned to look at her, leaning a bit closer than she would have liked him. He smelled very strongly of cologne and liquor. "Don't you worry about that. My sister's a tramp. I love her to death, but she is. And Fitz has never gone for the easy, low-hanging fruit. He likes to climb the tree and get the shiniest, ripest apple there is. Believe me when I tell you, Amanda ain't it."

Olivia nodded, trying to decide if his comment made her feel better or worse. She wasn't a challenge to be conquered. She was a prize, but not one to be won. She decided not to address his comments about Fitz, instead replying, "I'm sure your sister's a nice girl."

"She's a dime-store hooker. I can't tell you how many guys' asses I've kicked for sniffing around her. She's got a new boyfriend every week. Whatever she's got for Fitz will be gone the second somebody with deeper pockets comes around."

Olivia chuckled. "That's not a very nice thing to say about your sister."

"We're Catholic. The last thing my mother raised was a liar. I'm a drunk and Amanda's a whore, but we ain't ever been liars."

Olivia laughed, unsure of what else to say. Stephen was a character if nothing else. A moment later, Fitz returned without Amanda. Olivia glanced at him but didn't say anything. Instead she looked at Stephen. She, too, could play his game. "So you're Catholic?"

"Yes ma'am." He pulled a strand of rosary beads from his pocket. "I go to Mass as often as I'm awake for it."

Olivia laughed. "I haven't been to church in months. My mother's threatening to call the preacher to my house."

"I'm not much of a church-goer myself," Fitz replied.

Olivia turned to look at him. "Well, it's hardly a cardinal sin to miss a few services."

"Let's hope not," he replied with a smile. He hoped his dancing with Amanda hadn't upset her. He'd kept trying to catch her eye as he danced but she never looked at him. He cut the dance short, hurrying back to the table to find out what was so funny. He didn't like Stephen making her laugh.

"I'm going to the bar. Would you like anything, Ms. Olivia?" Olivia turned away from Fitz, making him frown, and smiled at Stephen as he got up with a sway.

"I'll have a Tom Collins," she replied.

Stephen laughed. "Sounds fancy. Maybe I'll have one myself."

Olivia smiled. "They're quite good."

He schlepped away from the table and Olivia turned back to Fitz. His arm was draped over her chair but she had leaned out of his embrace, resting her elbows on the table. Fitz frowned at her. "He's flirting with you."

"Really? I hadn't noticed." She batted her eyelashes innocently.

Fitz continued to frown. "I did."

Olivia smirked at him. "Maybe he was just being nice."

Fitz shook his head. "Stephen's a mean drunk. When he's nice, he wants something."

Olivia shrugged. "I thought he was just keeping me company."

His eyes softened. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry about Amanda. She's…"

"Quite the girl from what Stephen told me," Olivia replied. She'd never imagined herself to be one of those girls who plucked a man's strings, and for a bit she felt bad because he clearly felt bad, but he couldn't be let off the hook so easily.

Fitz looked at her dolefully. "You're upset."

"I'm not." Olivia frowned at her lap. Fitz looked away from her, clearly unsure of how to fix things. Olivia turned her frown on him. "You said you wanted to learn how to treat a lady. Ladies don't like being ignored, especially not for other women."

"I'm sorry." He leaned forward in his seat, his chest brushing the back of her shoulder. His index finger pulled her chin around so that she was looking at him fully. "I'm all yours for the rest of the night. I promise."

Before she could reply, Stephen returned with two Tom Collins threatening to spill from his shaky hand as he danced to the band's upbeat music. He set down at glass in front of Olivia then plopped into his seat. He looked at the cherry resting in the bottom of his glass then at Olivia. "Why's it got fruit in it?"

"To sweeten up the gin I suppose. Plus cherries and lemonade go nicely together," she answered.

"Very sophisticated." Stephen chuckled. He downed the drink in one gulp and grinned. "Very nice. I think I've just found my new favorite drink thanks to you, Ms. Olivia."

"You probably shouldn't gulp them down that way," Olivia admonished.

Fitz again leaned forward in his seat and pulled her face around to his. "Do you wanna dance?"

Olivia glanced at the dancefloor. "I can't do that."

"Sure you can. It's easy." He smiled. "I'll teach you."

Olivia watched for a moment. There was something wanton—something unabashedly sexual—about the dance. She had never moved that way, not even during sex. She looked back at Fitz. "I don't think I'd be very good at it."

Fitz smirked. "Only one way to find out."

He stood and Olivia followed, expecting him to offer his hand but he just looked at her expectantly. She followed him to the dance floor and stood unsure before him, wondering what to do. Fitz stepped closer and placed his hand in the small of her back to pull her body against his. He moved his hips against hers, swaying them in a circular motion that pulled hers along with them. He smirked at her. "Moving might help."

Olivia looked down at their touching bodies and imitated his movements shyly. Fitz grabbed her chin and made her look at him. "Just feel it. Stop thinking about it."

His hand pressed firmer against her lower back, smashing her into him. She glanced away from him, looking around at the other couples. The other women didn't seem to feel as dirty as she did moving that way. In fact, they seemed to enjoy it. She wrapped her arms around his neck as the band started up a rendition of Maurice Clayton and The Zodiacs' "Stay." She wound her hips to the sultry song, deciding to take Fitz's advice and "feel it."

Her eyes moved back to his, his hips never faltering. There was a challenge in his gaze that she was eager to meet. She decided that that night, in that little club, she would be dirty. She kept winding her hips, her eyes beginning to twinkle as she started to enjoy herself. Fitz grinned at her, knowing she was proud of herself for keeping up with him. "I told you it was easy."

"Or maybe I'm just a quick learner," she replied.

By the time the band took a break for intermission, Olivia had mastered the hip-swiveling dance. Her curls had fallen into loose waves around her glowing face as they walked back to the table.

"Are you hungry?" Fitz pulled out her chair then took a seat next to her.

Olivia took a napkin from the pile on the table and dabbed at her dewy skin. She wondered what kind of food such a place served, but she was a little hungry. She decided it couldn't be terribly bad. "I could eat."

Fitz signaled for a waitress, happy that Stephen was gone. He didn't want to share Olivia's attention. A tall redhead wearing a tiny strapless cocktail dress made of black sequins approached the table carrying a round black tray. She sneered at Fitz. "They let you back in here? This place is really going to hell."

Fitz laughed. "Cut me a break, Abby."

"I'd rather just cut you," Abby replied with a smile.

Fitz turned to Olivia. "Liv this is Abby. She's mean to me because I won't tip for her terrible service."

Abby smiled at Olivia. "What's a nice lady like you doing with a bum like him?"

Olivia smirked at Fitz. "He dragged me here against my will."

Fitz smirked, thinking if he dragged her anywhere, it would be to his bed. "If I was gonna drag you somewhere, it wouldn't be to this dump."

Olivia blushed, catching the undertone of his words. Abby laughed. "So what can I get y'all?"

"I want a rib plate and a beer," Fitz replied. His fingers drummed on Olivia's shoulder. "Bring Ms. Olivia the special and a Tom Collins."

"Tom Collins? You really don't belong in this joint," Abby replied as she wrote down their order. She walked away, headed for the bar. Olivia guessed the kitchen was behind it.

Fitz looked at his watch then at Olivia. "You know, my half hour's up."

Olivia looked at the clock on the wall behind the stage. He was right. She hadn't realized it had been so long. She looked at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to stay a while longer, especially since we've got dinner coming. I'm very curious about this special I'm getting."

"Me too. The special's always really good."

Abby appeared with their drinks, setting them on the table. "I told Huck you're a special guest of Fitz so your special should be extra special."

Olivia smiled. "That's very kind."

Abby left and Fitz picked up Olivia's glass to examine her drink. "I figured you'd be a champagne kind of girl."

Olivia smirked. "Somehow I doubt this place has champagne."

"Not any that I would recommend you drink anyway," Fitz replied as he handed her the glass. "I just didn't peg you for a gin-drinker. You're so…soft and pretty and girlish."

Olivia laughed. "If I'm all that then what are you?"

"Scruffy and ill-mannered, mostly." He gave a shy grin. Olivia wished he wouldn't smile. It would be far easier to keep her wits if he didn't.

She reached out to rub his scruffy cheek. "I'm sure you're more than that."

"I'm funny sometimes."

Olivia laughed, her head falling back. When she recovered, she found him staring at her with dazed eyes. "What?"

"Nothing. You're just pretty. I've never been with a girl so pretty."

Blush warmed her cheeks. "Oh I'm sure that isn't true."

"Oh it is. Beautiful girls don't usually go for me. I'm a little rough around the edges if you hadn't noticed."

Olivia watched his long fingers tap on the table to the band's beat. "I'll admit you're an adjustment, but I have a feeling you're very sweet when you want to be."

"I am. I promise." He looked at her seriously. "Ms. Olivia, I'm sure there are loads of guys after you. And I'm sure there are loads of guys better than me after you. I don't have a lot of money, and I'm not as cultured as you, but I'll treat you so good. You won't believe how happy I can make you. I'll treat you how you want to be treated if you'll teach me."

She didn't doubt that he was telling the truth, but did she really want the hassle of teaching him everything? It was far more likely that he would bring her down than she would lift him up. But would she really be so shallow? Could she be so shallow when he made her heart thump so violently? Hadn't she just told her mother she wanted to be thrilled? And wasn't he thrilling? She glanced at him and he smiled charmingly, almost boyishly. She wanted to kiss his incisors out of his mouth. She reached for his large hand, running her fingernails over the curly hair on the back, and replied, "Somehow I don't think I'll have to teach you. I think you know just fine."

His grin became mischievous. "I know a few things, nothing I should mention to a lady like you though."

Olivia blushed, but held his gaze. "Even if I'm very interested?"

Fitz laughed, leaning closer to her. Olivia smiled as she continued to run her fingernails over the back of his hand.

XXXXX

After they finished their meal, Fitz looked at the clock on the wall. It was 12:30. He looked at Olivia, nursing her third drink. "I think it's time I got you home."

Olivia too looked at the clock. "I didn't realize it was so late. I suppose we should get going."

Fitz stood and pulled her chair back. Olivia stood and picked up her purse, watching with a smile as Fitz dropped a ten dollar bill on the table for Abby just as she sauntered over. She picked up the money and smirked at him. "And to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Fitz smirked back. "Trying to be a decent guy. I forgot you're not used to that."

Abby laughed and looked at Olivia. "I hope you come back Ms. Olivia. Fitz is much more tolerable in your presence."

Olivia smiled. "I suppose I'll be back. That is, if Fitz asks me out again."

Abby looked at Fitz then back at her. "Oh he will. I haven't seen him this happy in I don't know how long."

Fitz smirked. "It's so nice to be discussed as if I'm not standing here."

Abby sneered. "The male ego is so fragile."

"It's almost as delicate as we girls are supposed to be," Olivia agreed, tossing Fitz a teasing grin.

He laughed, wrapping his arm around her waist. "It's time I got you away from Abby. Wouldn't want her corrupting you."

They said their goodbyes and walked out into the warm night. Olivia wondered how to end the night. They had already kissed, so that treat was gone. She supposed she could invite him in for a drink but it was hardly the hour for entertaining. And she definitely wasn't the kind to sleep with a man on the first date. She was rebelling against some of the more stringent parts of her upbringing but she hadn't gone crazy. But there he was, smelling so sweetly masculine as he pressed her into the door of his car. His hands held her arms as he looked down at her.

"I'm not ready to let you go," he said, stepping close and closing the small space between them. She wondered if she'd ever been with a man who emanated the kind of strength that Fitz did. Surely she hadn't. She definitely wouldn't have let them go. She wrapped her arms around his broad back, her fingertips playing over his firm shoulder blades.

"Then don't," she breathed, barely loud enough for him to hear. This time when he kissed her, there was nothing tentative about it. He wasn't testing the waters anymore. He was churning like a whirlpool intent on drowning her. Olivia sucked on his tongue until he stopped kissing her. His lips found the hollow of her throat, licking the lamb soft skin with wanton hunger. He'd never tasted anything as delicious as her flesh. Olivia's knees weakened. Her grip on his back tightened desperately, if only to keep upright. "Fitz…"

"Hmm?" He didn't move his mouth from her neck, where she knew she would have an impressive the next day.

"Let's go. People are looking." In the few seconds that she could keep her fluttering eyes open, she had seen quite a few people stop and look them over as they made their way into the club.

"I don't care," he replied. He wanted to take her right there. He didn't care about having an audience as he fingers dug into her fleshy hips.

"Fitz…" He finally made himself stop, leaning against her as his breathing normalized. He could feel her heart hammering against his chest as she looked up at him with a flushed face.

"I should take you home before things go too far," he said, offering her an out if she wanted one. He didn't see her as being the type to sleep with him so soon, and he was perfectly content with waiting so long as she wasn't close to kiss and caress. If she was within arm's reach, he couldn't guarantee any self-control if she didn't stop him. And she didn't seem to want to stop him. But he didn't want her to regret it, or him, or think he'd taken her out of her element to get all he could from her. He wanted her to want it.

Olivia knew she needed to go home, that she shouldn't have been out with him to begin with. Nothing good ever happened after midnight, especially not with a man like Fitz. He was making her forget everything: who she was, who she was supposed to be, how things were supposed to go on first dates. But was it really so bad to forget all the ties that had bound her in boredom-stricken ambivalence her whole life? She should have gone home, but she wasn't so sure she wanted to do the things she should have been doing. She wanted to do what she wanted, to embrace the lust jumping double-dutch in her veins. She finally looked up at him shyly. "You don't have to take me home if you don't want to."

"Where should I take you?" He cupped her cheek in his hand, running his thumb over her lipstick-less bottom lip.

"Wherever you want," she replied. She blushed at their accidental double entendre.

The drive to his apartment building was as quick as he could manage without breaking any laws. He parked in front of his building and got out of the car to get to her door. Olivia surprised him by getting out of the car on her own and standing on the sidewalk waiting for him. She glanced around at his neighborhood. It wasn't much different from her own. Everything as in need of a good power-washing, and teens didn't usually hang out under streetlights on her street, but it seemed much safer than she'd imagined. Fitz took her hand and led her up the two dark flights of stairs to his floor. Her stairway was lighted and not so narrow, but she managed better than he'd thought she would in her shoes. He got to his door, painted a rusty red and missing its number then turned back to her.

"You'll have to excuse my place. It's not really fit for a lady," he said before unlocking the door. She followed him inside and he turned on the living room lights. Olivia looked around. The room was sparsely furnished with only a couch, radio, and coffee table, but it was cleaner than she'd expected of a single man. His kitchen was small and clean with a little round dining table not unlike her small square one. Its yellow paint was peeling but nothing else seemed to be in disrepair.

"You have a lot more space than me," she commented as she followed him to his bedroom.

"I have a lot less stuff than you." He dropped the book on the coffee table then led her into his room, turning on the light as he crossed the threshold. His bedroom, like the living room, was sparsely furnished. There was only a bed, made seemingly in a hurry, a dresser, another radio sitting on a little table next to the bed, a record player in the corner, and a large table in the far corner, littered with what she guessed were engine parts. It reminded her of her desk, cherry wood and femininely carved with roses on its outer wall, littered with books, papers, her typewriter, and at least two coffee mugs. Fitz moved to drape a large tarp over the table. "Excuse the mess. I'm rebuilding an engine."

"It's not a mess. It's your work table. I have one too," she replied, wondering if she should sit on his bed. She had come this far. There was certainly no need to act squeamish. They both knew she hadn't come to listen to records. Fitz moved to the radio and turned it on. A moment later the room was filled with "Stay." Olivia took it as a sign. She ran a hand through her hair, looking at him sheepishly as she set her purse on the dresser. She leaned against it, watching as he removed his t-shirt. She definitely hadn't been with a man so beautifully made. He walked over to her, stopping short to leave a few inches of breathing space.

"Are you sure you want this?" he asked, looking into her eyes for any flicker of uncertainty.

"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "Don't you want me?"

He answered by pulling her roughly to him and slamming his lips into hers. Olivia lifted her arms, draping them around his neck and began winding her hips the way she had on the dancefloor. She opened her eyes and gazed challengingly at him. "Moving might help."

Fitz matched her motion, smirking at her, as his hands moved to the back of her dress in search of her zipper. He found it and slid it down, never halting their movements as he peeled her dress away from her body. It slipped over her hips and pooled around her ankles. Fitz clasped her hips and turned her around so that she was facing the mirror. Olivia stared at their reflection, the contrast of their skin, the way his hulking frame dwarfed hers in the dim light. His roughened fingers slid up her thighs with an aching tenderness, moving to grip the lush globe of her breast spilling over from her bra's flimsy cup.

"You are so beautiful." His warm breath skittered over the shell of her ear. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

He trailed kisses from her earlobe down her neck to her shoulder, moving his hands to her back to unhook her bra. He let the lacy garment hit the floor and cupped her bare breasts, squeezing them gently. Olivia lifted her hands to twine her fingers in his hair. Fitz lowered his lips to the curve of her jaw. His eyes flickered to their reflection. He was struck again by her beauty. He knew it was crazy, to want to claim her, to possess such beauty, but he wanted her to be his.

"You smell so good," he murmured against her goose-bumped flesh. His left hand moved to the waistband of her silk panties, delving beneath it gently. Olivia let out a startled sob of pleasure when he stroked her firm pearl. Fitz grinned, using his right hand to turn her head so he could kiss her. Olivia sucked his tongue, groaning in his mouth as he stroked her into a frenzy. Fitz had never been so overwhelmed by a woman. There were so many layers to his desire, so much he wanted to touch and taste. It was dizzying, his want for her.

"Fitz I can't wait any more," she moaned, trembling in his arms. She was overwhelmed by the wanton need to be naked with him. Fitz halted his ministrations to push her panties down her thighs. Olivia reached back to push down his boxers.

Now naked, skin to skin, something shifted. It became primal, instinctual. Fitz clasped her hips, pushing both their bodies into the dresser's cool wood. He aligned their cores and pushed inside her, earning a groan from both their mouths. Olivia braced her hands against the dresser, pushing back against him. She was surprised at her eagerness and even more at the pleasure that surged through her veins when he began moving his hips to meet hers. She was careless with want for him and hot on the trail of an orgasm that she suspected would rock her world. Fitz grunted, holding tighter on her hips, and matched her stroke for stroke. Olivia's eyes flickered to their reflection and she found herself transfixed by the look on his face as he watched their cores connect. Olivia wondered if the mirror successfully covered the sounds of their lovemaking and guessed that it didn't as she heard herself moaning his name. They glistened with sweat as they made the dresser knock against the wall.

XXXXX

Later, they lay entangled in Fitz's sheets, naked and boneless from giving the dresser a rather strenuous workout. Olivia looked down at her chest, covered in leopard-like spots from Fitz's mouth. She'd normally have balked at being branded like cattle, but she liked that the marks were from him. She watched him sleep, his arms wrapped around her waist to hold him firmly against him. He looked much younger than his 32 years. She marveled at the length of his eyelashes, smiling at the boyish quality they lent his face. His mouth, now relaxed, seemed softer, fuller than usual, and the urge to kiss him made her feel both decadent and shy.

"Fitz," she whispered. "Are you awake?"

"Do you want me to be awake?" he replied, cuddling closer.

"Just for a little while." She rolled over in his embrace, pressing her bare chest to his.

He smirked at her in the semi-darkness. "Well here I am."

"Have you had many women?"

He blinked at her. "What?"

"Have you had many women?" she repeated, reaching up to smooth his sleep-frazzled hair.

"Define many."

"More than 10."

"Yes." He wasn't sure what to make of their conversation.

"More than 20?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Yes."

"More than 25?"

Fitz blushed and was thankful she couldn't see it in the darkness. "Yes."

"How many?" She frowned, wondering what sort of man he was.

"I'm not really sure." He frowned too, sensing she was put off by the new knowledge. "It's not like it sounds."

"How is it?" She had been with three men including him, and she realized there were differences between the way men and women did things, but his number seemed excessive.

"I was young and stupid. At 20, I'd plough anything that didn't shake me off."

"And now?"

He smiled shyly. "I suppose I've got more sense than that."

She smirked. "I'd hope so."

"What about you? Have you had many men? Is that impolite to ask a lady?"

Olivia smirked. "A bit but I'm not ashamed. I've been with 3 men, including you."

"That's such a small number." Fitz wasn't sure what to make of her number. He was sure it was normal for women like her, that social standards required such chastity, but comparing his track record to hers made him feel like a hedonist.

"I haven't met many men deserving of such privilege." She ran her fingers through his hair and down to the wispy curls on the back of his neck.

"I could see that. A woman like you shouldn't settle for any guy sniffing around." Fitz rolled her onto her back, covering her body with his. Olivia wrapped her arms around him, rubbing his muscular back. "I'm wondering if you could teach me something, Ms. Olivia."

"And what is it you're wanting to know?" she asked, letting her thighs fall apart.

"I'd like to know how to make love to a lady, if one's willing to teach me." He smiled that boyish smile and Olivia swore her heart turned a flip.

"Well you have to be slow and diligent."

"Slow and diligent," he repeated between kisses on the hollow of her throat.

"And gentle." She ran her fingers through his hair, guiding his hand between her legs.

"And gentle." He ran his fingers between her slick folds, opening her, teasing her.

"And…" She lost track of her thoughts as he pressed against her entrance. Olivia lifted her legs to wrap them around his waist. Fitz held her hips, moving gently inside her.

"God Liv…" He buried his face in her neck, kissing her neck and chest.

"Fitz…" He would never tire of the way she breathed his name.

"Keep saying my name," he commanded gently.

"Fitz…" He kissed her lips, sucking on the bottom one. "Fitz… Fitz… Fitz…"

Each capitulation earned a kiss sweeter than the last. Her hips copied his motion, just as they had when they danced. Fitz held her hands above her head, trailing hot kisses from the dip in her collarbone to her lips.

"Like this?" he asked, biting her left breast gently. "Is this good?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Fitz was sure there was no sexier sound than her half-whispered moans. He tugged on the taut tips of her breasts.

The slow merciful grind of their hips combined with his mouth kissing and biting her most sensitive spots left her shaking. Fitz hummed in appreciation each time he discovered a new sweet spot that made her gasp and quiver. Her orgasm took her by surprise and she held him for dear life as she splintered into a million pieces. She was a quivering mess in his arms, repeating his name breathlessly. Still he moved in and out of her, whispering her name so softly, writing love letters on her heart that made it hard to breathe. With one final groan of her name, he too fell over the cliff into oblivion. Olivia wrapped her legs around his waist, running her fingers through his hair as their breathing stabilized. The radio crooned "Hungry Eyes."

He looked up at her. "Did I do it right?"

Olivia gave a dazed smile. "So right."

A/N: Chapter 2 is almost done and should be up in a few days! I'm really excited for this story and I hope y'all like it! Don't forget to review! XOXOXO