Author's Note: Another alternate chapter, requested by a reader.

A couple of my 'The Thomas Andrews Affair' readers have wondered what would've happened, if Mr. Andrews had tried to make up for his insensitive comments about buying jewellery in New York for his estranged wife. (Chapter 14: Baby It's Cold Outside, of 'The Thomas Andrews Affair')

So I gave this alternative take a whirl, as requested by one of my fabulously supportive friends over on tumblr.

LOTS of Thomas Andrews fluffiness, romance and general squishiness ahead - there IS sex, but not as graphic as the previous chapters.

(Chapter title inspired by the Patrick Swayze song 'She's Like The Wind' from the film Dirty Dancing.)

She's Like The Wind

There was a knock on the door, which startled me a little. Who on earth would it be, at this time of night? I'd been just about to change out of my uniform into my nightdress, and I was in no mood to be disturbed by anyone. I'd spent the last half an hour sobbing my heart out over the fool who'd built this godforsaken ship, and my frame of mind was not a good one.

Sighing heavily, I padded over to the door in my bare feet. After turning the key to unlock it, I half heartedly swung it open, expecting to see a sheepish Mr. Andrews standing before me. I was surprised to find that it wasn't him, but a fellow Irish steward from A Deck instead. I slumped my shoulders and rolled my eyes.

''What do you want at this hour, Peter? My shift is over,''

Peter, the steward, handed me a folded piece of White Star headed notepaper.

''Sorry to disturb you, Mimi. This is from Mr. Andrews,'' he explained. ''He requests your presence immediately. He says the reason is clear in his note. I'm just passing on the message, lass,''

Frowning at the note in my hands, I nodded a 'thank you' to Peter, who hurried off again rather sharpish. I quickly unfolded the piece of paper and read the handwritten scrawl silently to myself.

'Dearest Mimi,

I understand that you may never want to see me again, but if you can afford me a chance to explain, I will be indebted to you. Please meet with me in my stateroom at 11 o'clock tonight.

T'

Well, what was I supposed to think now? Was he really deserving of anything from me, after asking me to choose an item of jewellery for his wife? And why was I the one who had to sneak off to his stateroom, again, when he was the guilty party? Was he really so out of touch with a woman's emotions and feelings? It had certainly appeared so. I must've read his words five times before deciding what to do next. But, no matter how down I'd felt about how he'd treated me out on the deck, I made my decision. I put on my boots and made my way over to his stateroom, despite the fact that it wasn't quite eleven yet. I don't know why I was always being drawn to that man like a moth to a flame. But I was.

Standing outside of his stateroom nervously, yet still feeling angry, I knocked on the door. I heard his footsteps as he rushed to answer, and he opened the door a crack, peering out at me.

''What is it you want from me, Thomas?'' I demanded, still standing in the corridor. ''It's late and I'd like to get to bed,''

He opened the door wider, so that I could see inside the room. Oh, my goodness! His entire stateroom was filled with flickering candlelight, casting dancing shadows over the walls. There were white church candles of all sizes placed carefully in spots around the room. There were candles on his desk and candles on the floor. All the lamps in the room were switched off; the only light came from those candles. It was a beautiful sight.

''Please, um...come in, Mimi,'' Mr. Andrews said shyly, gesturing behind himself with his hand. I nodded, and he quickly ushered me in, closing the door behind me. I stood there for a moment, watching the various shadows moving on the walls and the flickering of the flames. And, if I wasn't mistaken, the delicate scent of roses hung lightly in the air.

''Thomas!'' I gasped, feeling slightly taken aback. ''Is this for my benefit?''

He seemed anxious and a little embarrassed, fidgeting and wringing his hands in front of him. I noticed him swallow hard and grind his jaw, something he did when he was feeling awkward.

''I, er - well, yes, yes,'' he stammered, then he cleared his throat and glanced over towards the bed.

I followed his eyes, catching my breath as I realised that his bed was scattered with dozens of rose petals. Well; no wonder there was a floral scent in the room! Carefully placed in the middle of all those rose petals, was a single red rose. I cannot tell you how this scene in his stateroom made me feel. I'd never had a man show me such a grandiose romantic gesture before. Goodness, men in my life had been few and far between anyway! Oh, but the candles, the single red rose and the petals covering the bed; this was the most beautiful thing any gentleman had ever done for me. I was rendered speechless.

''Mimi, if you'll let me explain,'' Mr. Andrews insisted, noting the wideyed expression on my face. ''I need to make amends for my tactless comments earlier this evening. If you'll - if you'll allow me to, of course. I've been such a fool,''

He pulled out the chair from behind his candle festooned desk, and politely gestured for me to sit down. I did so, my heart racing like a galloping horse inside my chest. I'd gone to his stateroom to give him a piece of my mind, but now things were taking a completely different turn and I knew I should give him the chance to explain his actions earlier. He paced the floor by the desk, fidgeting with his hands again.

''I realise now how hurt you were, when I said what I did before,'' he sighed, his eyes darting everywhere but me. ''I was so...well...insensitive. Expecting you to help me choose something for my wife in a jewellery store in New York, I mean, how foolish of me! Oh, why didn't you just slap me across the face?''

I glanced down at my hands in my lap and sighed.

''I wish I had,'' I replied honestly. ''You don't need to know the thoughts that were running through my head, but let me tell ye they weren't very nice. I'd thought you were asking me to come to New York with you so we could start a new life together, Thomas. I thought you'd to decided to leave your wife!''

He stopped pacing and spun on his heel to look directly at me.

''I know that now!" he said, his guilt apparent in his sad brown eyes. ''I know. I'm a fool,''

He crouched down to my level and dropped to his knees in front of me, resting both of his hands on top of the skirt on my lap.

''I'm useless with the fairer sex, Mimi. I'm a shy man, as ye know. Never short of offers, but-''

I lifted my eyebrows upon hearing his peculiar choice of wording, considering this whole scenario in his stateroom was intended to be his peace offering to me.

''Never short of offers, Thomas?'' I interrupted him. ''What's that supposed to mean? I'm not the only one throwing myself at you? I hope you haven't been-''

His cheeks flushed and he seemed a little startled.

''Oh, no no no!'' he chuckled awkwardly. ''Of course not. There's only been you on this voyage, dear. Only you. You have to believe me,''

I did believe him. Unless the subject of conversation was his beloved ship, Mr. Andrews was an introverted, nervous chap, no matter how many women 'threw' themselves at him. And it was true that he was a popular choice with the ladies, who seemed to be in awe of the man whenever he innocently walked by. I remembered the swooning women from steerage earlier; he had a way of engaging people, especially those of the female persuasion. I felt special, realising that I had been the object of his affections all along, and not the beautiful and Rubenesque Rose DeWitt Bukater...or anyone else, for that matter.

''How can I make it up to you, darlin'?'' Mr. Andrews continued after a moment. ''Do you - do you like the um, the candles? And the - well, the petals on the bedspread? Oh, I hope you don't think I'm being too presumptuous with laying the room out like this! I'm -"

I smiled and lifted my fingertip to his mouth, pressing it against his lips gently in an attempt to hush him up. He didn't finish his rambling, and stayed quiet.

''Not at all, Thomas. It's perfect,'' I told him, about the room. I thought for a few seconds, then carried on. ''Well, you know what you can do to make it up to me,''

His eyes were large and pleading as he knelt there in front of me, with his hands still in my lap. I traced my finger down his chin as he replied,

''I've been such an idiot, Mimi. I'll do anything. Name it!"

Indeed, I would 'name it'.

''Mrs. Andrews betrayed you, but I haven't. I wouldn't. I believe loyalty should be rewarded, Thomas. When the ship docks in New York, I want you to take me to the jewellery store, but not for her. I'd like an eternity ring. For me. For us,''

Mr. Andrews nodded his head.

''Of course! Anything you want, m'dear. A ring it is. And, well, I have something nice for you here now, so bear with me...''

He removed his hands from my lap and rose to his feet, becoming a bit flustered again. He made a quick dash to the coatstand in the corner of the room, and rummaged around in the pocket of his long overcoat, before returning to me with a black leatherette gift box in his hand. The tempo of my heartbeat speeded up quite considerably, at the sight of this black box before me! He gently took my hand and gestured for me to stand, so I did.

''I felt dreadful, after what happened between us earlier. So I had a wee negotiation, with an acquaintance onboard,'' he explained, his eyes settling on mine. ''I, um, I hope this is satisfactory for you...''

His nerves seemed to be getting the better of him as he cleared his throat and flipped open the box to show me. Oh, bless his heart. Staring back at me was a nine carat gold necklace, with a diamond and emerald Claddagh pendant attached. The Claddagh design depicts two hands clasping a heart, surmounted by a crown; an Irish symbol of love, friendship and loyalty. I have no idea, to this day, what he'd 'negotiated', but I can imagine that this piece of jewellery would've been rather expensive in monetary value.

''Thomas!'' I gasped, having melted instantly at the sight of the necklace. ''It's wonderful,''

Mr. Andrews seemed more at ease now, as he carefully took the jewel from the box and stood behind me.

''I trust you're familiar with the symbolism of the Claddagh,'' he said, unclipping the back of the necklace and placing the pendant around my neck. It took him a moment to fasten it; his broad fingers clearly weren't made for securing fidgety clasps on women's jewellery!

''Yes,'' I answered him, instinctively reaching to the pendant and touching it with my fingertips. ''Friendship, loyalty...and love,''

I leaned my back against him and closed my eyes, and I felt his arms move around my waist to embrace me from behind.

''I want you to know that I'll never take your feelings for granted again,'' he sighed. ''I must stop clinging to the thought that Mrs. Andrews and I will be reuinted. I need to move on, and...''

He nuzzled the top of my head, burying his nose into my hair.

''...you're the one I shall be moving on with. I'll protect you, Mimi. If you'll allow me to,''

I smiled, still leaning back into him, and still with my eyes closed.

''Of course I will. This is all I ever wanted from you, Thomas. No more heartache, no more nonsense. You must promise me!"

He tightened his forearms around my waist.

''I promise you, darlin',''

We stood together, silently, for what must've been a couple of minutes, when Mr. Andrews finally loosened his grip on my middle, and shyly nodded his head toward the bed.

''I, er...I would be honoured if you...stayed the night with me tonight.''

My ears pricked up at his words. It was certainly a somewhat forward invitation, and because we were not married, 'staying the night' was usually seen as a forbidden pleasure for unmarried couples. Whilst his invite was very, very tempting, I did wonder if all this scene-setting and his purchase of lovely jewellery, was little more than his way of persuading me to provide him with sexual relations. I turned to face him, planting my hands on my hips and arching an eyebrow suspiciously.

''Thomas, I do wonder...all this attention you've lavished on me since I got here...is this a ploy for you to have your pleasure with me tonight?''

Mr. Andrews became a little flustered again, and his embarrassment could be seen on his face.

''What? No! No, don't be silly, Mimi! You've got it wrong, honest to God.''

Rolling my eyes and holding my nose in the air like a spoiled child, I tutted under my breath and marched toward the king-sized bed, pointing to the rose petals scattered all over the bedspread.

''No gentleman would cover his bed with petals if he didn't expect it to see some...use,''

Mr. Andrews seemed confused at my sudden questioning of his motives. Sighing heavily with frustration, he lifted his hand to his forehead and rubbed his temple.

''I-I don't know what you want me to...''

Poor Mr. Andrews, the love of my life. What he didn't realise was that I was now playing with him, to get a reaction. I wasn't being serious, but I reckoned that he deserved to stew a little before getting what he wanted; what we both wanted.

''...I'm not using you, sweetheart, I promise you,'' he insisted, his eyes pleading with me. ''I want us to be together tonight because we should be,''

I stayed silent, watching our shadows dancing on the wall behind the bed.

''Please, Mimi,'' Mr. Andrews sighed.

I smiled slyly, and shook my head.

He took my hand in his.

''Please.''

I pulled my hand away.

''Well, I'm not sure.''

Again, he took my hand. And again, I pulled it away. I then walked over to the other side of the room, my back turned to him. He followed me, and I moved several steps to my left.

''Oh, don't do this,'' he pleaded, his dark eyes wide and puppylike, ''I know you want this too,''

''You really think so?'' I pretended to mock.

''Yes, really!" he shot back.

"Well Thomas, maybe I don't."

''And I don't believe you.''

Tugging at my hand for the third time, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it softly. A grin crept over my face, but I snatched my hand away again and lifted my nose in the air as I had done before.

''Ask me nicely,'' I teased him, with a serious face.

''Very well, then. Would you be so kind, as to allow me to be with you tonight, Mimi?''

I made it appear as though I was thinking about it for a moment. I wasn't, really. I was simply playing hard to get.

"Well - no.''

''Oh, stop this now!"

''Only if you play by the rules, Thomas. The rules of seduction.''

''Um...well, I rather thought I had that side of things covered, Mimi. The rose petals, the candles. The necklace!''

I was really toying with him now - just one more time, to make him realise how lucky he was that I'd forgiven his idiocy from earlier this evening.

''Thomas, I want you to beg for it.''

He raised his eyebrows high on his forehead.

''WHAT?''

''No begging, means no pleasures of the flesh.''

Yes, Mr. Andrews' face was a picture of panic. I was secretly relishing this. But he deserved it, before I gave him his prize. And I would reward him, no doubt about that.

''Wh-what do you want me to do?'' he stammered, wringing his hands nervously in front of him.

''Well, I would rather like you to get on your knees.''

''What? Oh now, Mimi, that's absurd.''

''Thomas, you're desperate for sexual relations. But I'm not sure if I've forgiven you yet.''

''Oh. come on, dear. This is ridiculous. I've apologised!''

''Well, if Mr. Andrews wants the pleasures of the female body, then Mr. Andrews must get on his knees.''

Teasing him was fun, and such a good way to get my own back on his earlier blunder. Mr. Andrews was not so sure, though. I thought he was going to blow a fuse, the poor man.

''I-I won't do that! Is this what I've been reduced to? Mimi, I built this bloody ship! Why should I be on my knees, begging on the oak floors I designed with my own fair hands? I've tried to make amends for what I've done. Don't ridicule me, for pity's sake!''

''I'm not ridiculing you. I'm just putting you in your place. What's it to be, Mr. Shipbuilder?''

Mr. Andrews was speechless and flustered again. I sat down primly on the edge of the bed and smoothed my apron out over my lap, remaining quite serious. I noted him rolling his eyes to the ceiling and shaking his head, as he dropped to his knees directly in front of me and placed both of his hands on my thighs, on top of my apron. His eyes appeared huge and pleading.

''Please allow me to be with you tonight,'' he murmured softly, reaching behind me and picking up the single red rose from the bed. He offered it to me, his eyes searching my face. I didn't respond, and sat almost completely motionless, but it was all quite deliberate. I wanted him more than anything else. My heart was pounding in my chest for that man. The rose stem was an unbelievably sweet gesture, but I wanted to keep up the pretence for just a little bit longer.

Noting my lack of any kind of response to him, he dropped the rose to the floor and inched himself forward a little more, still kneeling in front of me. He leaned his face in close to mine, and nudged his cheek against my lips. I couldn't help but let out the tiniest, breathiest gasp. I closed my eyes and tilted my head up, encouraging him. I felt him rain gentle kisses in quick succession, down my throat and to my collarbone, and I slid my arms around his wide shoulders. I couldn't keep up with this playing-hard-to-get nonsense. It was futile, considering I craved him as much as he craved me. I gave in much quicker than I thought I would.

We were both still fully clothed; me in my White Star uniform and him in his shirt and tie, waistcoat and trousers. Even my ankle boots, and his shoes. I laid on my back on the bed, surrounded by soft, scented flower petals. He positioned himself on top of me, being careful to take his weight on his elbows. He was so much bigger than me, not just in height, but broad and wide shouldered in stature. The sexual relations we'd had before were three quick romps on a table. Well alright, if you wish for semantics; the first had been on the desk in his cabin, the second had been on the dining table in the crewmen's eating quarters, and the third had been in the linen cupboard on a pile of sheets. All three escapades had been quite delicious, thank you! But there was something quite different to what we were doing now; something much more intimate. For the first time around him, I'd actually felt slightly vulnerable with his presence. But not in a bad way; I liked it. I was used to being the initiator, and now I wished for him to lead the way. I wanted to feel protected by this big, cuddly bear of a man.

Neither of us said a word to the other, but our eyes spoke volumes. He began to kiss me on the mouth, softly at first, then much more deeply. As he did that, I felt one of his hands travel down my body, on top of my clothes, until he got to the hem of my skirt where his hand ventured underneath. I hadn't expected him to do what he did next; the details of which, I will not divulge too much of! But let me just say, those long fingers of his certainly knew exactly what they were doing, and I saw a thousand stars within moments of his touch. Shipbuilder's hands always paid attention to the finer details, after all.

''I'm so sorry that I've been a fool the past few days,'' he breathed, as I began to unbutton his waistcoat. ''What a lovely young lady ye are. But I fear you're out of my league. Maybe I'm not good enough for you, Mimi,''

I pulled the waistcoat down over his shoulders and loosened off the knot in his tie, sliding the tie from his neck and tossing it to the floor before undoing the buttons on his shirt. The flickering candlelight in the room gave his face a soft, yellow glow.

''Oh, stop it,'' I said, blushing a little at his words. ''Why do ye think I can't let you go? Mind you, I do have the patience of a saint,"

He chuckled quietly, taking my hand and slipping it under the gaping fabric of his open shirt. His skin felt soft and warm, and comforting.

''Ye certainly do, but you're still out of my league, lass.''

I smiled, and guided his hands to help me take off my apron. Removing the rest of my uniform would've been too fiddly and time consuming, with all the buttons at the back and the high neckline, so the apron sufficed for now. After that, I hitched my dress up and he battled with the buttons of his trousers, and yes. Yes, we gave in to each other completely. Still partially clothed, I might add. But this time was even more special, than our other times sitting upright on tables and desks and piles of linen. The vibration of his pounding heartbeat was noticeable, even through my uniform. He may have been on top of me this time, but I was not completely submissive to him, either. He was clearly trying his best to please me, and he was not being selfish. His movements were sensual and he took his time, slowly. For a man whose wife hadn't been with him sexually for months, he had a surprising amount of self control. I was not complaining in the slightest, though. He was so attentive; so wonderful. This wasn't just our usual quick lust filled encounter; we looked each other in the eye for the whole duration. We were actually making love. The meeting of our minds, and the meeting of our souls; I had never experienced anything like it before. The man who'd fathered my daughter nine years ago had been nothing more than a couple of quick fumbles in a darkened sitting room. Thomas Andrews was an exquisite, classy, sophisticated man on a completely different level. We had connected. We had bonded. There was something there, beyond the lust. He was now mine, and I was now his. Neither of us had to say it, to know that it was the truth. And for the very first time, we reached our peak of excitement together, shuddering in unison as waves of pleasure washed over us both. We were exhausted, but happy.

Afterward, we stayed on the bed, on top of the bedcovers; quietly reflecting on everything that had been happening between us. I propped myself up onto my elbows to be more comfortable, and I casually rested the back of my head against the headboard. Mr. Andrews appeared drowsy and relaxed, lying on his back across the bed with his shirt still undone. He snuggled his head into my lap and stretched out in front of me, one leg bent at the knee casually and his arms folded over his middle. I smiled to myself, and began to brush my fingers through the waves of his greying hair. He could no longer keep his eyes open, and appeared to be drifting off to sleep on my lap. I continued to stroke his hair and whispered,

''I love you, Thomas.''

I knew he probably wouldn't hear me, but it didn't really matter. I needed to say it anyway.

The candles were still burning, though I noticed that some of them were now fighting to stay alight. And apart from the continuous low rumble of the ship's engines, there was complete silence in the room. Feeling somewhat drowsy with contentment myself, I allowed my own eyes to close for a while.

My time that night, with Mr. Andrews, had been nothing short of absolute bliss. He'd certainly made up for his terrible blunder from earlier; the romantic scene in the room, the beautiful necklace, the physical bonding between us. And for almost an hour, he'd barely uttered a word about his beloved ship or his estranged wife, nor had he jotted anything down in his notebook. Most unusual, for him. Yes, he'd deserved his reward for keeping thoughts of Titanic and Mrs. Andrews out of our intimate moments together. He seemed to appreciate me a lot more now, which was all I'd asked for to begin with. Though I did wonder, if he would ever admit to himself that he might've fallen in love with me, the way I had done with him.