Thanks very much for reading and following, and of course for your kind reviews and thoughts on this!

Now, just a word in advance before you reproach me for it.
I am a very nice person actually (most of the times at least), and so not generally in the habit of bitching about other people's looks. Not too much at any rate...

Oh god. No. Nonononono.
This could not be happening!
How could it possibly be that she would run into the Goblin King after ten years of strict non-contact policy in this sorry excuse for a dating agency?!

Of all the places she had ever imagined she could meet him again (and she had occasionally, if only secretly and bashfully), this was certainly the saddest and most mortifying option.
Instead of encountering her in a trendy place, surrounded by laughing friends, he saw her now rubbing shoulders with desperate old spinsters and obese men in their mid-forties who still lived with their mothers.
It was the total apocalypse of every good impression.

It was nearly as cripplingly embarrassing as when she had come across her next-door neighbour in a sex shop while handing over the largest dildo they stocked to the cashier – notabene the model 'King-Kong XXL' no less - complete with dainty pink wrapping and glittery writing that cheerfully announced to 'move the stars for every woman'.
Maybe that had been the reason she had bought it in the first place.

At second thought though, today was even worse.
In the sex shop she had at least been able to talk her way out of the situation by claiming that she was buying the monster dildo as a present for a friend.

Was there a possibility of escape? Preferably before she had to explain her presence at this funeral of every good taste to the freaking Goblin King?
Her eyes shifted surreptitiously to the door behind his back.
Nope, no such luck. He was standing in front of the door, and she would have to walk right past him to get out.

She was aware that he was staring at her.
Ok Sarah, she mentally told herself, let's look at our options here. You have already ruled out an uncontrolled and undignified retreat, so you will just have to weather out the storm. Just think of what your former boss has told you, 'hold your head high and your voice steady, even if you feel that the shits are already running down your legs'.
Well, he hadn't been one for subtlety, but at least he had taught her to keep her countenance in situations of stress.

Assuming her most assertive don't-fuck-with-me expression, she finally looked up and met his gaze.
Of course, the bastard was smirking at her. And upon noticing her glare, his insufferably arrogant smile became even wider, showing an impossible amount of teeth and conveying to her instantly that she was in trouble.

Suddenly option one didn't sound so bad in hindsight.
She saw him opening his mouth, no doubt to let loose with a scathingly sarcastic and mocking statement, but she was rescued in the last moment by the host of their humble little soiree.

The jarring screech of a badly configured microphone made everyone in attendance wince.
"Hi there boys and girls, my name is Al, and I welcome you to tonight's speed-dating party!"
More screeching, followed up by a few deafening crackles as the guy adjusted the microphone on the tawdry mint green lapels of his suit.
"Jolly good. So many bright and happy faces here tonight, and I have no doubt that we will have a merry evening together!" he went on all chipper to the point of painful over-excitement.

Sarah seriously doubted this at this point.
Craning her neck, she could make him out standing in the middle of the assembled lost causes. He was short with tufty brownish hair and rather large front teeth, and was currently bouncing up and down his heels maniacally like a chipmunk on speed.

He beamed at all of them through the bizarrely large and thick glasses he wore. "Well, let's not waste any more time. You all know the rules, I take it?"
A quick glance around the room yielded a few half-hearted nods, but he seemed to be satisfied with it. "It's five minutes, and at the ring of the bell, dong-di-dong, off you go to the next one, simple and easy, you see?"
He looked at them hopefully as if expecting praise for having come up with such an ingenious concept.
Sarah rolled her eyes – honestly you would think they were a bunch of kindergarteners here, not a desperate group of romantically handicapped middle-agers.

"So, off you go, I say. Boys on one side and girls on the other, naturally!" He wriggled his eyebrows in what he obviously thought was a salacious way.

But Sarah didn't need telling twice.
As soon as he had made his announcement she had scuttled off to the farthest possible chair from the entrance, and near enough wrestling it from the hands of the scandalized looking woman in her forties, who still dressed up as if it was the eighties, she sat down with a small sigh of relief.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the Goblin King confidently strutting over to the only available seat right next to the door. She also didn't miss the delighted expression on the face of his partner (a gloomy girl in her mid-twenties, covered from head to toe in tattoos and sporting a rather impressive set of piercings on her face).

She couldn't suppress a gleeful little grin at the sight, and then turned her attention to her counterpart.
Her face fell immediately - it was sweaty armpits, and up so close the smell could have knocked out an elephant.

The bell rang and he was off.
He mournfully mumbled out his life's story into his unkempt and overgrown beard, twisting and untwisting his sausage-like fingers in front of him while speaking.
Sarah wasn't paying any particular attention to the contents of his monologue; she was too busy holding her breath and keeping a firm grip on her handbag in case what was nesting inside that jungle of a beard decided to come forth and attack her.

Luckily for her she obviously wasn't required to reply to any of his effusions, and before she even had had time to inject so much as 'Hi, my name is Sarah' the bell already rang again.

Sarah gave him an apologetic smile that she hoped didn't reveal too much of her relief and quickly slid over to the next chair.

Well, let's say it didn't get any better.
Bernie was the prototype of the ivory-towered academic and sexually retarded mummy's boy. Probably in his late thirties, he could already boast of a remarkable frontal baldness, and dressed himself in clothes even her grandpa would have called unstylish.
He was nice enough though, and after quickly establishing that Bernie had not idea what to say whatsoever, she entertained him with mindless banter, eliciting delighted blush after blush on his pasty face.

It went from bad to worse, and next she had to face Juan, an American of Mexican origin with his own business trading cars, as he had lost no time in informing her. He was somewhere in his forties, short and showing all the signs of a once athletic body enjoying good food and the occasional tequila rather too much.
He was downright creepy.
Smiling blissfully at her as if Christmas and Easter had come early this year, he kept on smoothing his already slicked back and oily hair in place while leering unabashedly at her cleavage.

Ding.
Next one.
Sarah took a deep breath and plastered huge fake smile on her face.
Her brain had set itself into stress-induced autopilot mode about five minutes ago, providing the assembled losers and oddballs with a few common platitudes and non-descript facts about her life while she secretly cast harried glances at the alarmingly shrinking distance between her and the Goblin King
The whole ordeal felt like a totally demented game of musical chairs, and with every ring of the bell she inched closer to her doom.

Finally there was only one chair in between her and the Goblin King.
Somehow the reprieve she had managed to gain for herself had dwindled down to nothing, and Sarah realized that she had no idea what to say to him.
Starting to feel panicky, she frantically rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants and tried to relax the stiff muscles in her cheek before she developed a lockjaw.

Completely blocking out the soporific drone of the mousy insurance agent in front of her, she surreptitiously peeked at the Goblin King and his partner out of the corner of her eye.
His counterpart was probably somewhere in her early fifties, painfully blond, and may or may not have been at one stage quite a beautiful woman before a rabid flock of plastic surgeons had been unleashed on her face.
She was currently leaning across the table with an enraptured expression, one Swarovsky-adorned claw tracing her fish-pout lips while the other hand was pushing up her ample breasts, highlighting the slightly wilted contents of her cleavage in a very unflattering manner in Sarah's opinion.

Whatever Jareth had told her must have been amusing, because in the next moment she let loose with an ear-piercing shriek of laughter, that sounded like Mickey Mouse being roasted alive, and swatted playfully at Jareth's hand.
"Oh Jareth! You are a naughty boy", she cooed lasciviously, wagging a spray-tanned orange finger at him.

All in all it was rather nauseating, and she quickly peered at the Goblin King to see his reaction to it. He had winced together with the rest of the room at the laughter from hell, and the artificial smile he sported made him look like he had a toothache.

For an instant she almost pitied him.
Almost.
Because in the next moment the bell rang again, and now it was her turn with the glittery goblin monarch.

She waited patiently while fish-mouth circuitously climbed out of her chair, tossed her bleached hair over her shoulder and finally, mercifully, ambled down the aisle, rolling her hips ostentatiously with every step.

Putting on her most radiant host-of-the-successful-cocktail-party-smile, she quickly scooted over.
"Oh my God! Jareth! What a nice surprise!" she squealed with faux excitement before he had had time to so much as look at her.
"Not dead after all I see, jolly good!" she tacked on nastily, keeping her voice deceptively sweet.

After some lamentably short deliberation time she had decided on an aggressive attack strategy, after all it is 'for he that strikes the first blow, if he strikes it hard enough, may need to strike no more'.
She couldn't agree more with Sauron there, and to her deep satisfaction the comment wiped the gratified smile her greeting had evoked straight from his face.

He scowled at her. "And what, pray tell, do you mean by that?"

Time to sprinkle some salt into the wound.
"Well, you know" she said with carefully studied hesitancy, "I thought after my defeating your labyrinth and you… you know," she flapped her arms at her sides in order to imitate his flying off in his owl form, "I couldn't be all too sure what had happened to you."

Rearranging her features into a silly simper, she blinked up at him with wide innocent eyes.
Bingo. Missile has successfully hit target. She watched with perverse fascination how his expression soured instantly.

"Thank you for your kind-hearted concern, " he shot back sullenly, "but you needn't have worried on my account. It takes a bit more than that to finish me off, as I am sure you're very glad to hear. And nice to see you too by the way."

"Hmm, yes well, I'd love to say the same to you, but then I would be lying I suppose…" she heaved a fake sigh as if wanting to say 'what a shame'.

He barked out a laugh at that.
"Pity indeed. But I am glad to hear that you have at least outgrown that nasty habit of yours to lie" he taunted, "shame only your social skills have not improved as much with time…"
Now it was his turn to give a fake sigh, and he shrugged his shoulders in an ostentatious but-hey-what-can-you-do kind of way.

She narrowed her eyes at him.
"I haven't got any problems with my social skills, thank you very much," she snapped at him, her tone belying her statement. The jibe had of course hit home.

He gave a fake cough that sounded suspiciously like 'Toby', and then looked meaningfully around the room as if silently asking her 'and what about all of this then, eh?'

There you go.
Naturally he would have to remind her of that – he would never ever let her forget that she had wished her brother away in a sulky and selfish teenage-all-misunderstood tantrum.
Asshole.

She opened her mouth, snarky reply already at hand, but he interrupted her.

"But of course not, how silly of me," he exclaimed, a hand pressed against his chest in a gesture of mock apology. "I would never dare to insinuate that the charms of the Champion of the Labyrinth are anything but exquisite. Why I've noticed that you have made quite the impressive conquest there after all."
He smiled at her wickedly, moving his eyes to the left.

She turned her head in the indicated direction and instantly wished she hadn't.
Juan was ogling her like a lovesick baboon, and upon catching her eyes he wriggled his eyebrows in a come-hither way and sucked the air in between his gold teeth.

Sarah shuddered and ground her teeth.
How was it possible? Not even two minutes into this blasted dating debacle and she already wanted to kill him.
Dearly.

Jareth chuckled quietly at her reaction.

Forget that.
She wanted to slaughter him in the most excruciatingly painful way possible and then go trampling on his hacked remains, tittering madly and singing Beethoven's 'Ode to Joy'.

"Well, I dare say it wasn't that hard, seeing as even you have made some friends here, as far as I can see," she sniped back viciously.
To substantiate her statement, she jerked her head at fish-mouth, who right on cue started to cackle again like a strangled turkey.
What in the name of God she could have found funny with smelly armpits Sarah didn't even want to imagine.

At least he had the decency to look slightly sheepish, and for a moment they were both silently contemplating the well-assorted freak-show around them.

Jareth was the first to speak again.
"But I am curious. What brings you here, if you don't mind me asking?"
He grinned at her evilly, knowing full well that she minded very much.

Well shit.
That was exactly the question she had been hoping to avoid.
The truth is that I have a major problem in the sex department – I simply cannot come.
Ever.
And so my best friend thought it a good idea that I loosen up a little bit and meet new people – or in other words shag my way through a few random beds in search for the elusive orgasm, and you?

"I lost a bet", she said curtly.

He obviously fought hard to keep a straight face and nodded. "A bet, huh?"

"Yes, a bet."
She fixed him sternly, daring him to doubt her answer.

He tilted his head to one side and pursed his lips.
"So Sarah, do you still like to play games then?"
He let his voice drop to an alluring purr.

Sarah rolled her eyes and snorted.
"Seriously Jareth, that? Come on, that had to be the most corny and hackneyed line you could have come out with. Right from the standard handbook for trite villain's phrases. Honestly, the only thing missing there was the moustache for you to twirl."

He widened his eyes in mock shock.
"Dear me. I do apologize. And there was me thinking I was coming up with something original for once. I was going to say 'Your eyes are like gleaming emeralds and your hair as black as ebony', you know."

She shook her head decisively. "Too late. That one has already been used on me tonight."

"I know, I've heard." He cocked an eyebrow at her questioningly. "What about 'I think God must be missing an angel?"

Sarah burst out laughing despite herself - it was just too ridiculous. "Nah, too tacky."

"Hmm, I think I have it. That compliment never fails to please: 'You have grown up nicely I see. Developed nice curves and filled out in all the right places I must say'."

"Oh God, no! Don't! That reminds me too much of pervy uncle Geoffrey and his special hugs reserved just for me at Thanksgiving."
Sarah wrinkled her nose at the memory.

He guffawed at that, and for once it was an open and carefree laugh, neither malicious nor mocking, and Sarah chortled with him.
She had to admit that she was starting to enjoy herself.
A little bit at any rate.
Compared to the rest of this chamber of horrors he was at least intelligent and witty.
And of course he was handsome – even a blind nun would have to acknowledge that.

Still, time to retaliate.
"So enough about me, because the million dollar question here is after all what could make the most regal Goblin King show up in such a pathetic place as this."
She shot him a challenging look.

He met her glare straight on.
"I'm researching. Part of my little field study, you know" he deadpanned.

"Research?" Sarah snorted, "my ass, you don't honestly believe that I am buying that one?!"

"Well", he said delicately, carefully studying his nails, "let me put it this way; I was polite enough to pretend to believe your little lie there, and so I think it would be only fair if you did me the same courtesy."

Touchée.
They were both lying and they both knew it – she couldn't very well reproach him for it.

Jareth cast a glance at the watch on the table.
"Well, looks like we haven't got much time anymore. But listen Sarah", he sexily lowered his voice around her name, "if you go for a drink with me later, I might tell you the true reason for me being here."

"Nice try, but no. As soon as this blasted bell rings, I will be out of here, and us going for drinks was not included in that plan."

"Fair enough. Suit yourself, but let me tell you this – I am sure that you will be singing a different tune very soon. Mark my words, before the evening is over you will be very glad for my assistance."

He let the statement hang there ominously, but before Sarah had had time to ask him what he meant by this, the obnoxious bell dinged again, and she focused on planning her escape.

When she had cleverly chosen the seat furthest from the entrance to start with, she had not only calculated in that it was the furthest from the Goblin King, but also that when she had done all the stations of the cross she would end up right next to the entrance.
She lost therefore no time and scrambled to her feet, ready to bolt out of the door.

Unfortunately for Sarah, the shoulder strap of her handbag had wound itself unperceivedly around the legs of her chair, and when she jumped to her feet, handbag clutched tightly in one hand, she was jerked back violently, lost her balance and fell straight on her face in plain sight for everyone to see.

And apparently her martyrdom was far from over yet.
While she still frantically tried to pry her handbag loose from the chair, she saw out of the corner of her eyes a pair of mint-green legs entering her field of vision.
The overdosed chipmunk had obviously noticed her fall – well, who in the goddamn room hadn't really - and had come over to investigate. Brilliant.

"Oh deary, that was quite a nasty little tumble you had there, you ok? No hurtsies?"

What the hell was it with him and his baby talk?
She quickly jumped to her feet, her face burning brighter than a whole Irish family after their holiday on Majorca.
"No, I'm fine thank you. Nothing happened," she gave an embarrassed little laugh, "but I really should be going now, cutting it a bit fine already in fact…"
She started turning around, but the sadistic chipmunk wouldn't have any of it.

"Going? Now? But you can't do that! The fun hasn't even started yet – the really good part is just coming!"
And with that he pressed a glass of cheap prosecco on her and ushered her towards the middle of the room, where everyone was already mingling for the apparently mandatory post-speed-dating-because-we-haven't-had-enough-already party.

Interesting. Very interesting indeed.
When he had ventured out tonight the last person he had expected to meet was the sassy once-upon-a-time Labyrinth winner.
Whose victory, however, was only due to pure luck and an uncanny talent to suck up to some of his more dim-witted subjects, as one ought to add.

Still, with her there the evening had suddenly promised to become a whole lot more exciting, and he had been looking forward to their little tête-à-tête.

He had watched with malicious glee how she had struggled her way through the line of third-class rated odd lot males, becoming increasingly more flustered and vexed.

Admittedly, the choice of eligible bachelors was particularly dire tonight, and it didn't look much better on the ladies side, but watching her grapple with the full force of the assembled stupidity and ugliness was simply hilarious and well worth having his patience tested by the string of foolish trollops batting their eyelashes at him.

Unlike her he was quite used to it by now – the trick was not to take things too seriously- and so he had elegantly and effortlessly manoeuvred his way through the mindless conversations, charming and beguiling the drooling females left, right and center.

He never had any serious intentions towards any of them of course – one had a certain standard to uphold and an impeccable taste after all – but he couldn't resist the easily gained admiration that was so lavishly showered upon him at these events.
A cheeky wink over here and a suggestive comment over there and already they were lying at his feet.
It was like shooting fish in a barrel really – near enough too damn easy, but very very gratifying, and it was exactly what his much battered ego of late needed.

Not so with Sarah of course – he should have known really.
He hadn't even had time yet to rile that explosive temper of hers with a few well-placed jibes, when she had already lashed out at him, and he had to admit that she knew how to hit below the belt where it hurt most.

Ah, but the fun it had been when he had started to needle her in return and could watch complacently how she became more and more agitated by his taunts, but tried to hide it behind a cool façade, pretending for all the world to be the aloof and collected ice queen.

He knew better though, and by expertly pulling the sleeping lion's tail, he had soon brought her to the point where he expected sparks flying from her nose at any moment.

She was quite obviously lying about her true reasons for attending the speed-dating party and was uncomfortable with the subject, so Jareth naturally wanted to know very much why that was so, and he had immediately decided therefore that he would find out, no matter the cost.

But that was not all.
As soon as he had laid eyes on her, he had determined that she would be the sole focus of his endeavours tonight.
Forget about the other twits, he would do everything in his powers and use all his considerable guile and charm to bring the Champion of the Labyrinth under his thumb – and, ideally, into his bed.
It was in parts petty revenge, but in other parts it was also a nice little challenge, the very thing he needed right now, and he wanted to succeed with her just to prove that he could.

He had been shaking with silent laughter when she had failed in her pathetic attempt at escape and had been herded back towards the cluster of unwelcome suitors by the silly and unsuspecting host of the evening.
And now he watched with spiteful delight how the whole screaming farce unfolded before his eyes.

She had successfully sidestepped the greasy Mexican, only to be accosted a moment later by a lanky grunge youth with serious personal hygiene problems, and when she had finally managed to extricate herself from his clutches, she had run straight into the arms of a nerdy looking dweep, whose only interesting attribute was the spinach stuck between his front teeth.

He himself had no problems warding off the undesired advances of the females present, and seeing her floundering in her attempts to get away from the overly friendly bunch of bumbling idiots had to be to most fun he had in ages.

After a while he took pity on her though.
Stepping up behind a very harassed looking Sarah, who desperately tried to wring her hand out of the grip of Speedy Gonzales before he could plant a wet kiss on it, he whispered in her ear.
"Need help?"

She jumped violently and turned around.
The look of relief on her face at finding him there was nearly comical, and her voice was brimming with gratitude when she answered.
"Yes please actually, if you would be so good."

The dent to her pride made the whole thing even sweeter in his opinion, and he could almost smell her chagrin at having to admit her need for help to him of all people.

He obliged her though.
Assuming his most intimidating alpha male stance, he soon established his superiority over the other would-be candidates jockeying for position, and substantiating his claim upon her even further, he cheekily laid an arm around her shoulders and called out for everyone to hear: "So darling, shall we go now?"

He saw muscle twitch reflexively in Sarah's cheek at the endearment, but she played her part accordingly, bestowing a tooth-achingly sweet smile upon him.
"Right you are there honeycombs, it's getting late after all."

Reluctantly and regretfully the crowd started to back off, and let them through.
Once out of earshot, the forced smile fell from her face immediately, and she let out a tired sigh.
"Well, thanks I guess", she acknowledged him grudgingly.

"You're welcome. Now, I believe you owe me a dinner though."

"Dinner? I thought it had been just drinks before?"
She shot him a filthy look, but he wouldn't let her wheedle her way out of this none, not a chance. Assuming his most neutral expression, he waited patiently.
Finally she caved in.

"Fine!" she huffed, "let's go for dinner then - I guess I owe it to you."

Ah, sweet success!

They exited the premises in companionable silence, and he fell in step next to her.
"So pervy Uncle Goeffrey, eh? Now, that sounds fun, please do tell!"

"Nah, you wouldn't want to her about that – you haven't eaten yet."

So, that's it for the moment.
If you feel particularly charitable you may leave a review - in all honesty, they do warm that cold and sarcastic heart of mine, and may even encourage me to continue with this silly tripe.

Notes:
- 'for he that strikes the first blow, if he strikes it hard enough, may need to strike no more' stems from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, obviously.

-'pervy Uncle Goeffrey' was purloined from Helen Fielding's 'Bridget Jones' Diary'. I thought she wouldn't begrudge me the use of him.