He was looking at her again. But it was a different type of look. It was somehow slightly more awkward than her husband normally was. It was a look of love, but as if he was considering something. She decided smiling back at him would be a good response, he always seemed to like that.
Then she noticed the uncomfortable way she was sitting. She recognized it from the first time she had met him. River instinctively brought her gaze downward, and onto the bulge in her husband trousers. Oh dear. She had a feeling she knew what he was thinking about, what he was contemplating. It made her sad, knowing what would happen. It would surprise him too; her... circumstances. But then, when wasn't she a surprise?
All River could say was that assumption is the mother of all confusion.
Through her teen years, the ones with Amy and Rory, she had been called plenty of names. Slut. Whore. Skank. There were even some really, really inventive ones that she would rather not think about.
She supposed she brought it on herself, constantly making dirty jokes. She had always been a flirt. Because of that, everyone had thought her easy. That she had slept around.
Of course, she still did it all on purpose. She wanted to make people uncomfortable, because when it came to sex people always blushed. It was fun seeing them squirm, she got the same thrill out of that as, say, burning ants with a magnifying glass.
She liked to dress to show off her assets, was that a crime? No, but apparently just looking like a prostitute was enough to get you thrown in jail for the night. Imagine that, a woman waiting alone in the dark outside of a bar on Calisto B. There was a plethora of reasons she could be standing there all dressed up. River had been waiting for a business partner, but she didn't intend for any money to change hands. She would seduce him, freshen up her lipstick, and then he wouldn't know what hit him. She would be off with the goods, and he would be left reeling on a barstool; with lipstick smeared all over his face and no recollection of the past few hours. But obviously any woman with a large bosom alone outside a bar fixing her makeup could be assumed to be a prostitute. A sleazy drunk had even approached her, wad of bills in hand. As she was about to give him an earful and a kick to the nether regions, a street patrol officer wandered by. Into handcuffs River went, but there was no joking with the Doctor. She wanted to cry, but the answer to why she was being arrested was within the question. She acted like a whore. She truly did. She kissed and teased and winked and exposed a lot; she was very manipulative that way. She knew that it really was her fault, she was doing it to herself. But it hurt, nonetheless. Of course, she never let it show. That was just another part of her facade, building up the wall to hide her many secrets.
Assumption was a terrible thing. A God awful, truly horrible thing. People made up their minds on something that they only had a bit of information on, then they treat people accordingly and rarely give it a second thought. It was first impressions gone wrong and never revisited.
River was no prostitute, no slut, no whore.
She was a virgin. She had been running for her life practically since she had been born, and that had matured her. She had a strong sense of dignity, and this was something special. She was saving herself for her husband, and that had been decided from a very early age.
River was actually panicking a bit now. It was her first time, and that meant the Doctor's last with her. He would be quite experienced by now. She was all talk and no experience, how do you even...? She had no clue what to do. She didn't want her husband's last time making love to her to be awkward, but for her it was starting to seem scary.
Of course she knew what was supposed to happen, but it just... Suffice it to say she was nervous. She had no doubt that he was the right man, and the evening had been romantic enough- it seemed like one of the best times.
Her heart was fluttering, she could feel herself blushing. Hopefully the pink sunset would mask that... But her cheeks were definitely flushed. Could he tell? God, she hoped not.
Funny, she never thought that this would be so difficult. But then, you never thought that a sprained ankled was so terrible until you were literally running for your life.
He drew in a decisive breath and looked directly at her, making full eye contact.
He opened his mouth. Her eyes widened, and River could swear he could hear her heart pounding. It was time to face her Waterloo.
"You know..." He began seductively. "I could be in two Rivers in one go."
She fought back a gasp, and then a small laugh. Not the most clever euphemism, granted, but still. He got the meaning across, and it honestly turned her on. She smirked. "I'm all yours, Sweetie."
