-/-

It was cold outside today and he would need to dress appropriately. For the first time it almost felt like winter, the autumn had been so unusually mild that it had even confused the trees. Yet it seemed that with the approach of the festive season winter had decided to bite finally and it had bitten hard. What had once been green pockets of London parkland now resembled thousands of tiny little frost covered fangs bared at the sky just waiting to sink themselves into the unwary traveller.

Dr John Smith stood in front of the hall mirror fiddling nervously with a deep blue cashmere scarf. At first leaving it thrown around his neck like some sort of jetsetter, but the damn thing just kept on flopping back. So in the end he settled for leaving it hanging around his neck with the ends neatly tucked into his long gabardine overcoat. He looked far too Ivy League for his own tastes but he didn't dare leave the house without the damn scarf as God knows Clara would never let him hear the end of it if he got sick right before Christmas.

And he was already doing more than enough things that Clara wouldn't approve of, the Doctor didn't dare to add another thing to the list.

He shouldn't be doing this. The first time could almost be forgiven; after all he had taken the first step down this path when he had used her name and image for his latest heroine without getting her permission; so most people would agree that it would only be polite to rectify that situation once the opportunity to do so had presented itself.

It had been perfectly reasonable and innocent…and yet he hadn't told Clara that he was going anywhere or that he was meeting anyone. She was at work and he was a grown man after all. So what if he was meeting a woman for coffee, it was business, and he had had hundreds of business meetings over the years many with attractive women? It didn't have to mean anything.

The only stumbling block to that argument was that he hadn't expected to enjoy it…to enjoy Missy Saxon quite as much as he did…does…

Because he does really enjoy her, enjoy her in the way that you do when you seemingly discover something almost accidentally that engages you so completely that you lose all track of time. It was a feeling that the Doctor had really only experienced when he was lost in the creation of his own work, the feeling of euphoria when the words were flowing so freely that even his fingers struggled to keep up.

Missy had him struggling to keep up half the time, the woman was like a whirlwind given human form, one minute they could be arguing the relative merits of Shakespeare vs Marlow the next she had changed the subject and was holding forth on some new form of constructed Japanese poetry. For the first time the Doctor had some idea of what it must have been like for people meeting him back when he was…well the way he had been… the way he was before…before Somalia.

It was a high being around someone who could think and vocalise her thoughts on the same level as him, like drink or drugs only better because instead of numbing his mind she stimulated it, and now only too late he had begun to notice the signs of his addiction.

That one coffee date and conversation had spiralled into two; then she had cajoled him into meeting up at Hyde Park and taking a walk. Nothing wrong with a walk and Clara was always goading him into taking more exercise. Then it was a gallery exhibit he would never have come across on his own, a street poetry reading…always something new and interesting but always that feeling of affinity.

He craved that feeling, that feeling of being touched by brilliance, of being interested and excited by the world around him again instead of feeling afraid and isolated. So now he couldn't stop, he knew he should, he knew that every time he came home feeling elated rushing back to his typewriter because his outing had inspired some new twist and idea. He knew it when Clara's face fell a little bit more every day and he felt the tug of guilt at his heart. Yet he pushed that guilty feeling away, shoved it down because he wasn't doing anything really wrong.

It wasn't like he was having an affair.

They didn't even touch outside of occasional taps on the shoulder or if they both went to open the door at the same time…or that one time he had put his hand in the small of her back when they popped into to listen to the little jazz ensemble rehearse in that dingy little underground club and Missy had wobbled precariously on her unsteady barstool as she leant over to whisper in his ear. He had only reached out to steady her and had only left it there because that stool was precarious and well it hadn't felt wrong at the time.

Missy Saxon was a friend…a good friend…an interesting friend…so why shouldn't he spend time with her?

Because you are hiding it. Because you think there is something here that needs hiding.

His damn mind answered for him and that was the crux of the issue. If there was nothing to be guilty about why hadn't he told Clara? Why hadn't introduced his new friend to his girlfriend? Because he didn't want to, because he didn't want to share her with anyone not even Clara. Those few hours every Monday and Thursday afternoon that he got to spend in Missy's company were a bright spot in his otherwise muted existence. He got to pretend he was somebody else, somebody brilliant not all used up and broken.

It was terribly selfish but the Doctor wasn't prepared to give that feeling up not even for Clara.

Glancing at his watch, today wearing his black crocodile strap Jaeger-LeCoultre that he stumbled across as an iterant youth in a Parisian antique shop; John subtly cursed under his breath his wool gathering had made him late and Missy was almost as finicky about time as he was. Rushing out of the house, slamming the door shut behind himself John began to hurry down the busy Chelsea street, swearing as his mobile began to wail impatiently.

Fumbling he wrenched it free of his pocket his heart sinking as he caught sight of the name on the display…Clara…

For a moment he considered allowing it to go to voicemail but at the last minute his guilt got the better of him and he hit accept.

"Doctor." Clara's breathy excited voice caused the guilt in his stomach to solidify and roll about unpleasantly. "Glad I caught you. My afternoon classes are all going to the pantomime and the Headmaster has told me I don't have to chaperone so I will be home for lunch. Did you want me to pick up something nice…"

"Actually Clara I'm not at home…" The Doctor swallowed down his guilt, hiding behind the blunt truth. Technically he wasn't at home.

"Oh well I could meet you wherever you are, we could go out for lunch…if you like…maybe get some Christmas shopping done?"

The actual optimism in her voice made John feel even more of a bastard than usual. "I already have plans for lunch." He added catching the sigh that she couldn't quite stifle. "It's research for…"

"The book yeah." Clara finished for him in quiet resignation.

"I shouldn't be all afternoon." He offered his guilt prompting him to offer something, even if he wasn't prepared to sacrifice his afternoon with Missy, certainly not for the onerous chore of Christmas shopping. "Perhaps we can go out for dinner? Get dressed up go somewhere nice?"

"Sure that sounds nice." Clara replied politely yet there was something off about her voice, something the Doctor couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Well I'd better go Clara I'll see you later, I'll be home by five at the latest." He added his fingers fumbled for the end call button as her soft voice echoed her farewell before being cut off.

Catching sight of a Taxi for hire trundling down the road John flagged it down and heaved a sigh of relief as he sank into the back seat and gave out the now familiar address for the little Scottish bakery. Already his mind was whirling about what excursion Missy would have planned for them today. Knowing her it really could be anything and already he could feel the building excitement sweep away any lingering sensation of guilt for misleading Clara.

He was so preoccupied by his thoughts that he didn't pay the slightest attention to the unusual sight of a rather run down Volvo parked among the smart Mercedes and Bentleys that were more typical along his street, nor one familiar face as it sat huddled down in the front passenger seat, hugging a brown satchel closely to her chest as she tried to stifle tears.

"Do you want me to follow him?" A kind voice offered, not really surprised when the not crying girl shook her head and fumbled for the door handle.

"No thanks Danny I think I will handle this my way."

-/-

John Smith was driving her crazy…or more to the point crazier because Missy Saxon could never be called a picture of mental health despite her chosen profession.

Rolling over in her five hundred thread count sheets Missy glanced at her bedside clock. It was almost time for her to get up.

After her only Monday morning client had cancelled late on Friday afternoon Missy had taken advantage of the opportunity to lay in and asked Mary to keep the day free. Officially she was spending the time catching up on the latest journals, in reality she was spending time thinking about John Smith and fantasising just how good those long fingered hands of his would feel in place of her own as she took the opportunity to enjoy some quality girl time.

Her body still tingled pleasantly from the after effects of her orgasm, all the little nerve endings of her body were wonderfully alive and still sensitive to the touch and the knowledge that she would be meeting the object of her day dreaming in person in little over an hour made the experience all the more deliciously naughty. Was he picturing her yet? In those quiet moments in the shower or perhaps even when he was lying in bed beside the pretty little Clara?

If he wasn't Missy was certain he would be soon.

John Smith didn't strike her as a man who was overtly sexual, he was definitely a man who thought with his real brain and not his lower instincts, as such her seduction of him had to be cerebral first. Yet still waters ran deep and she knew she just had to find his tipping point, that thing that changed his vision of her from his mental match to his ideal bed partner as well. She already knew he was an experience junky, but the man it seemed had been starved of culture, a depression fuelled self-imposed isolation that he was only just beginning to claw his way out of.

He clearly felt trapped and frustrated by his life, or what his life had become, because from titbits of things that John dropped into conversation Missy had pulled together the picture of a former jet setter in her mind. The man had been everywhere it seemed, had hiked in the Himalayas, before it was fashionable and there were package tours you could book. Had visited Russia when it had still been the USSR and an academic visa's had been difficult to get hold of. Then for some reason he was very careful to avoid mentioning, his entire world had contracted to the four wall of his study, and for almost a year he had hidden inside its protective cocoon. Yet now he was starting to break free and Missy delighted in being the one to help him do so.

John was certainly unlike any man she had ever met. He liked the oddest little luxuries, he never seemed to wear the same watch twice and that amused Missy to no end. She couldn't help but imagine some little room in his house simply full of boxes of the things, all classics, just like their owner. His clothes varied little, the same colours, a change of shirt perhaps sometimes white sometimes black but always of the highest quality, Saville row tailoring probably since his frame was hardly typical but Missy found his distinctiveness attractive. Besides she could hardly complain at his lack of variety, her entire wardrobe was filled with designer pieces mainly in black with the occasional splash of white or a daring purple if she was feeling particularly adventurous that day.

Speaking of clothing she had better get moving if she was going to meet John on time, their affinity for punctuality was something else that they shared and Missy calculated how long it would take to shower and dress…of course she could save a little time by not showering…the thought of meeting John with the slight musk of his inspired orgasm lingering on her skin was too tempting to pass up. So after brushing and flossing her teeth Missy moved onto the important topic of clothes.

A high-waisted pencil skirt was an easy choice it fit her perfectly and emphasised the dip of her waist and flare of her hips; it didn't do bad things for her backside either. This was quickly joined by a reasonably comfortable pair of charcoal grey suede knee high boots and a lastly a white silk blouse that was just heavenly to the touch, plenty of fabric in the sleeve all brought together at the wrist in little buttoned cuffs that looked so very old Hollywood glamour. Pair those with simple gold teardrop earrings, her hair loosely snagged up to emphasis her long neck, tendrils hanging free to frame her face.

The poor man really didn't stand a chance Missy mused as she sauntered over to her vanity and selected her underwear.

John probably wouldn't be seeing these but it really was the thought that counted Missy decided as she selected black stockings and black lace briefs before pausing. She hated not matching her set and yet there was no way she could wear a black bra with that blouse and yet she was loathed to select another top when she had already made up her mind. Of course she could just go without…

It was a positively wicked thought spending the afternoon with John Smith with only silk against her nipples…

Shaking herself out of that particular fantasy one glance at her clock had Missy moving, if she didn't meet John on time then there was a distinct chance they would be late for their afternoon's excursion. It was something they were both bound to enjoy a public lecture on The Improbability Principle by a renowned professor at Imperial and with John's multiple PHD's in Mathematics and Astrophysics Missy was certain he would relish the opportunity to poke holes at length in the arguments over a late lunch. It was a safe choice even if the devil in her had toyed with taking him to the lecture on Plato's Diotima's on the philosophy of desire instead.

Another day perhaps let's just see how today's date went and she would take it from there; with any luck John wouldn't be needing Plato's help on the subject.

-/-

She was waiting for him outside when the taxi pulled up and John had to stifle down the urge to take his irritation at being held up out on his cab driver. It really wasn't his fault that the damn council had chosen two weeks before Christmas to start tackling the pot holes, that combined the rain and the influx of Christmas shoppers into the capital. It was enough to make John cranky and late, and being late only made him grumpier.

Even so he was momentarily surprised out of his foul mood when Missy knocked on the cab door and flashed her bright smile at the cab driver to unlock it, and John had to shuffle backwards in surprise before he got a lap full. Even then he didn't manage to move properly to the other side of the cab before this whirlwind of a woman in high heeled boots was dropping down onto the seat beside him, pinning him in place by the tail of his coat.

"Sorry love no time to waste today!" Missy breezily announced, surprising John with a chaste peck on the cheek before turning her attention to the Cab driver who was watching her with a little too much interest for John's taste as she settled down and crossed her legs.

Seated close enough that their arms brushed against each other John felt his gaze drawn to the exposed expanse of Missy's white neck as she leant over him to address the driver. By contrast to him his companion had eschewed the necessity for a scarf despite the chilly weather and John found his gaze automatically following the sleek lines of her long neck, down to the little dip above her clavicle before he suddenly remembered himself.

"Can you take us to Bishopsgate?" Missy called to the cab driver waiting for his acknowledgement before turning her attention back to John who seemed to be frowning for some reason.

"Here I got you a fix just in case you were hungry but we'll have to eat afterwards." Missy whispered conspiratorially as she passed over one of the bakery's little goody bags filled with something warm and sweet.

"Where are we going?" John asked curiously as he opened his little care package and eyed the still warm spiced buns with interest.

"It's a surprise."

"I don't like surprises." John pouted even as he liberated one of the cakes and feasted on it eagerly.

"You'll like this one." Missy replied confidently, smirking as John scowled lightly, yet his intimidating air was undermined somewhat by the liberally dusting of sugar over his lips and Missy had to strongly resist the urge to lean forward and lick them clean.

"Don't I even get a clue?" John wheedled slightly, glancing up from his sticky treat to find Missy a little closer than expected, her blue eyes half-lidded and a soft almost wistful expression on her face.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On what you will offer me in exchange." Missy batted back teasingly, unable to stop her laughter as John sheepishly offered her the last cake in the bag with an obviously reluctant air.

"No deal I'm not interested in your buns John." She added impishly delighting at the sudden flush that burned his cheeks.

He was just too precious for words.

Swallowing nervously John tried to tell those damn butterflies in his stomach to stop their flapping, he couldn't think straight, the sugar was doing funny things to him and Missy was being her usual cryptic self; those too blue eyes of hers boring into him seemingly stripping him down to his soul. Yet he didn't want her to stop. Right now he wasn't sure what he wanted but it wasn't for her to stop.

"I'm not sure I have anything else worth exchanging?" John replied his voice sounding a little strained even to his own ears.

Not that Missy seemed to mind, if anything her expression grew even more indulgent, a genuine smile pulling at her lips that she had left bare of lipstick today and it suited her…they looked softer like this…and John couldn't help but wonder if they really felt as soft as they looked.

"Silly boy." Missy chided him, her growing feelings for him colouring her voice in rich honey tones as she took a definite risk and reached up to lay a hand on his cheek.

His skin was so warm under her fingertips and the slight roughness of his stubble against her palm sent a frisson of electricity shooting through her body. Lighting up the sexual pathway of cerebral cortex to nipples to groin which caused the breath to catch in her throat and Missy could feel her earlier hunger return with a vengeance. God she wanted him, right here in this damn Taxi, onlookers be damned.

For what seemed like forever the moment hung between them. John was balancing…teetering on the edge as some mad clawing thing burst free from his stomach and was now clawing its way up his chest setting nerve endings on fire as it went…his cheek was burning under her fingertips and molten lava pooled in his belly as he felt himself pulled closer, unable to resist the pull of her, like gravity…

"Whereabouts in Bishopsgate did you want?"

And just like that the moment was broken and Missy felt her heart plummet, unable to quell a whimper of disappointment as John pulled back.

The Doctor recoiled as far as his trapped coat would allow him, his humiliation only compounding as certain parts of him were slow to catch up and he tugged roughly at his overcoat, pulling it firmly over his lap.

"Here would be fine!" He barked out to the taxi driver.

"But…"

"Just pull over." The Doctor demanded fumbling in his pocket for his wallet and blindly retrieving several notes before pushing them in the cabbies direction. "Keep the change."

"John…don't…please don't…" Missy's voice was usually small and vulnerable and John didn't dare look at her.

"Governor there is close to sixty quid here." The cab driver exclaimed in surprise as he pulled up and looked at his windfall.

"Then please take the lady anywhere she wants to go." John insisted fumbling for the car door, relieved when the driver unlocked it and he was able to flee this impossible situation.

He had thought they were friends, only now he wasn't sure if friendship was what he really wanted from her. His entire body was flushed with conflicting chemical reactions. His skin still seemed to burn where she had touched him, or was that merely the flush of humiliation at being so betrayed by his own physical reaction to her. He was acting like a fourteen year old and at his advanced years it was mortifying to be stripped of all control.

He needed to calm down; he needed to time and space to think about this rationally.

He really hadn't started meeting Missy in order to start something, his love life was already complicated enough with his not there but not over relationship with Clara; but that was familiar, that was safe and he did love her he just wasn't sure if he was still in love with her. Missy Saxon was the opposite of safe.

Yet clearly he had reckoned without Missy's tenacity as no sooner had he stepped out onto the wet London pavement of some random street she was following him out into the rain.

"John where are you going it's bloody pissing it down!" Missy exclaimed as she rushed on her heels, trying to avoid ruining the suede in the puddles and failing spectacularly as dirty rainwater splashed up and dyed the once charcoal finish a dirty muddy colour.

"Then go back to the cab…"

"You're being an idiot." Missy exclaimed finally catching up with her mark and digging her nails into his thick overcoat, forcing him to stop as she pushed herself into his path. "What exactly are you running away from?"

"You!" The answer broke free before John could stop it and the vehemence of it surprised them both, and John felt the familiar churning of guilt as Missy flinched as if he had slapped her. "I'm sorry I shou…"

"Well at least you are finally being honest!" Missy's equally biting retort stung just as sharply and the Doctor would have taken a step back had it not been for her pincer like grip on his arm. "So what is it about me that frightens you so much John Smith?"

"I'm not frightened."

"Then why are you shaking?" Missy pressed onward relentlessly because she had no choice, if he left now she knew she would lose him for good.

Looking down at his own hands John was amazed to find she was right. He was trembling, yet he wasn't sure if it was from fear or adrenaline or… "I…."

"I am not going to hurt you John." Missy whispered softly, her accent suddenly so strong as she reached up and took hold of the ends of his cashmere scarf.

"The last thing I want to do is hurt you." She added this time relentless in her pursuit, ignoring the frozen expression on his face as she pulled him down by the ends of his scarf and pushed herself up on to her tiptoes.

At the first brush of her lips against his Missy could feel John's reluctance; he held himself rigid and allowed her kiss but did not immediately return it. Then she slid one hand up over his shoulder and into the rain soaked soft grey scruff at the back of his neck, raking her fingernails gently over the sensitive skin feeling John shudder at her touch. It was taking every fibre of restraint she had to remain gentle and undemanding when all she really wanted right now was to force him up against the nearest wall and shove her hand down his trousers. Biting down gently on his bottom lip before suckling it between her own, Missy swallowed John's strangled groan and coaxed him into kissing her back.

It was chaste, hesitant at first, almost clumsy and John could feel his cheeks burning. It had been so long since he had kissed anyone, let alone somebody completely new, someone who made him tremble just by looking at him. Yet Missy's little whimper as his tongue inexpertly brushed against her lips was enough encouragement to not simply give up. Accepting the invitation of her open mouth he slipped his tongue inside, groaning as Missy immediately countered his invasion, her dexterous little tongue trailing fire with every little flick before she sucked down on his and John felt the last of his reserve crumble.

Hands that had hung hesitant and unsure at his side now grabbed for any handhold they could find…the now dripping wet strands of her ruined updo as he tilted her head to a better angle, the curve of her arse as he bodily dragged her against him. Even through their thick winter overcoats John could feel the press of her breasts and the sudden heat of their bodies combined and it wasn't enough…he wanted more…he wanted her…

It had been so long since he had felt the heady rush of sexual lust that John could only express his need through guttural grunts, he was already practically hard against her stomach and the way Missy was almost grinding her body against his and making those gorgeous little whimpers wasn't helping things.

"Oye Oye Granddad get a room!" The yobbish yell and accompanying laughter from a passing van was a harsh reminder of exactly where they were and John could feel the blush rising up like a tidal wave from the bottom of his feet till it stained its cheeks red.

"I'm sorry…I don't know what came over me…" John began as he could only imagine Missy's mortification would be equal to his own.

Unable to supress her beaming smile Missy refused to allow a bunch of illiterate yobs to ruin this moment, instead she leant up and pressed a kiss to John's lips, stopping his excuses in their tracks.

"Shush love they are just jealous." Missy insisted her fingers trailing languidly down the front of John's overcoat causing him to gasp and groan as her fingers drifted below his waistline. "And oh my but isn't there plenty to be jealous about?"

He didn't think it was possible to be any more embarrassed yet Missy's frank admiration caused John to squirm in a combination of gut wrenching cringe-worthiness and heady delight. Reluctantly catching Missy's wrist John could feel himself shaking, there was nothing more that he wanted right now than to feel her hand on him…well maybe there was one or two other things but John didn't dare allow himself to imagine that otherwise he would never regain control of his wayward body. "We can't…I can't."

Pouting like a child denied a treat Missy quickly slipped her hand into his, threading their slippery fingers together before giving him an impetuous tug as she began to stride off, pulling him behind her like a confused little duckling.

"Missy…what…where?" John stumbled over his words and his feet and yet right now he would have willingly followed her anywhere.

Glancing back over her shoulder Missy could only smirk, her eyes raking hungrily over him leaving John in no doubt that his desires were reciprocated as she shot him a cheeky wink. "Just following some good advice love."

-/-