Here it is, the last chapter…I own nothing but George. Thank you ever so much to everyone who read and reviewed. This was fun, we should do it again sometime.

Let's Dance

Hey baby yeah you thrill the soul, hold me close, don't you let me go.
Well let's dance.
Hey baby if you're all alone, baby you'll let me walk you home.
Let's dance.

Ryan and Valera stepped out into the humid Miami night. Ryan was struck, as he always was even after seven years of residence in Miami, by the heat and lights. Miami never seemed to change. There were no dark and stormy nights, save the occasional hurricane. No gray, gritty streets. No seasons that marked out the Earth's rotation, at least none like the kind he had experienced growing up in Boston. There were tough neighbourhoods in Miami to be sure. Ryan remembered the first time he entered Little Havana on a ride along as a rookie. He'd lived in New York City as well as Boston, and had lots of experience with dangerous neighbourhoods. But Miami was different. The sun, the surf the palm trees, they all lured one in to a false sense of security. Ryan had known how dangerous Little Havana and Haiti could be on that first ride along, but it had still seemed wrong to him that such menace could exist in such a paradise like landscape. If Miami had taught him anything it was that location had nothing to do with crime. As long biting poverty continued to couple with low access to public services and education there would be criminals.

"Ryan?" Valera asked looking up at him.

She was beginning to worry. He'd said nothing since they had exited the club.

"Yeah?" Ryan answered vaguely.

"You seem like you're a million miles away," Valera stated. "Is something wrong?"

Valera knew that asking such a loaded question might be tantamount to setting of a bomb, but she figured the conversation had to begin somehow.

"Oh, no, I mean the silence had nothing to do with you." Ryan knew that was probably not the best response, but it was the truth.

He hurried to explain himself once he saw the look on Valera's face. "I mean, I was just thinking about random stuff. I'm always amazed by the weather in Miami. I know it's supposed to be tropic, I expect it to be tropic, but then when I get up everyday knowing I'm probably going to encounter murder it seems odd that the sun is shining. If that makes any sense."

"No, I do get it, but the sun isn't shining right now. What made you think about all this stuff?" Valera knew they should be talking about what happened between them inside the club but this just seemed safer.

"I guess I'm still surprised the weather is always the same, even at night. Back home people would complain on rainy days, or during bad snow storms. The weather actually affected people's moods. I guess I still can't believe for the first few seconds I walk out my door that in such great weather, day or night, I'm gonna have to investigate a murder. I've always associated waking up to hot and sunny weather as the precursor to a great day. Not a rape, homicide, molestation, armed robbery, and all the other stuff we see in the run of a day."

Valera wrinkled her nose and thought about the implications of what Ryan had just said.

"But you must have known when you joined a police force in a major city there was a reason said police force was needed." She reasoned.

"Of course. But I guess it's just one of those word or thought associations we all have. Growing up Miami meant vacation. Florida's where elderly Jews go to die, er, retire. Like a lot of tourists I forgot that for the people who live here, Miami is home. And that people get up everyday, go to work, live their lives and sometimes are the victims or perpetrators of crime." Ryan answered, while edging Valera closer to the inside of sidewalk so he could walk on the outside, just in case.

"I think I know what you mean," Valera said. "When I finished grad school, me and three of my friends went to Europe. You know to do the whole eurotrip thing. And at first I was really uptight about plans, logistics, wearing a money belt and sensible shoes. Basically anyone within sight of me probably knew I was tourist. Then my friend George pointed out to me that British, French and Italian people all live their day to day lives without money belts, ugly sneakers and getting mugged continuously on public transportation."

"A eurotrip hey? Where did you go?" Ryan asked.

He and Valera it would seem, were too caught up in the present to bother with any discussion about what had occurred earlier that night between them. But, that of course was not the case. For Valera discussing her youthful misadventures was easier than facing the one she was currently in the midst of, and Ryan reasoned as long as she was talking about Europe and not them, he could avoid the humiliation of rejection just that much longer.

However, after a complicated story about a flat bike tire, the French countryside during a rain storm, a lecherous French man, and her friend George's disdain for biking, rain, mud and the aforementioned French man Valera ran out of funny anecdotal stories to relate. At the end of her lengthy story Ryan realized two things, George was actually a woman a la Nancy Drew and they were probably very near Valera's neighbourhood by now. Time was running out, and so far they had not made any attempt to face the proverbial elephant in the room. Valera, in an effort to avoid any unpleasantness, was currently describing the view from a balcony in the Vatican using clichés that typically made her cringe in embarrassment when other people employed them.

"It was breath-taking you know? Such a once in a life time experience. You really felt connected to history."

"Yeah that's great. Listen Valera, are we anywhere near your place yet?" Ryan asked. As usual the more nervous he got the more his manners failed him.

Valera stopped walking and talking abruptly to look around. She took note of the familiar landmarks and ascertained that yes, they were near her home. Only a mere five minutes walk in fact.

"Yeah, my place is on the next right." Valera stated with some foreboding.

"Okay, well before we take the next right may I suggest something?" Ryan asked.

"Sure?" Valera replied uncertainly.

She had a feeling he was not going to suggest getting some food or giving her a foot massage, two things she could really do with at the moment. As opposed to say a lengthy and incredibly awkward conversation with a co-worker about how you both had just made a spectacle of yourselves at the wedding of two mutual friends.

"Alright, here goes. You asked me to walk you home because you thought we should talk. And we've certainly been doing a lot of talking. But not really talking, if you follow me. So I think before we go any further we should." Ryan said after summoning up all his courage.

It never ceased to amaze Ryan that he could run after dangerous criminals, get shot at on a regular basis and still find the opposite sex to be incredibly scary. Learned behaviour was such a bitch.

"Okay." Valera answered.

Ryan simply stared at her. Okay? That was it?

Valera realized his incredulous look probably meant he had expected a little more from her. "So you want me to start?"

"Yeah, that'd be helpful, and maybe you know, before the sun comes up." Sarcasm was always his shield.

"Jesus Ryan, why don't you make this even harder? I mean way to ingratiate yourself" Valera said moving into a defensive stance.

"Ingratiate myself? Now I have to ingratiate myself? What changed between now and the moment you let me kiss you in front of everyone we know?"

In grade school Ryan had been friends with the one Korean kid in the neighbourhood, Tommy Shin. They were a perfect pair because every time Tommy got angry, scared or exasperated his English lapsed. Ryan, in similar situations became a cantankerous jerk. Currently, Valera was giving him the kind of look Tommy usually did before sputtering or screaming, "Why you such an asshole?".

"I'm 99 percent certain there was a better way for you to express yourself," Valera began. "But I'm gonna let that one slide because I think you lack the filter the rest of us have between our brain and our mouths."

Ryan accepted her anger and her mercy, but that didn't change the fact he thought his point was valid.

"You're right, I was rude, and I'm sorry. But a few hours ago Valera we were having a good time. And I don't just mean on the dance floor. I thought we, you know, connected tonight." Ryan was looking anywhere but at Valera directly.

"I see."

"Okay connected is a kitschy word, I know. But I'd like to think we kissed tonight not just because we, I, drank a half a table of beer, but also because we learned new things about each other. New things that maybe changed the way we see each other." Ryan said, still staring at the street light Valera was standing next to in an effort to avoid eye contact.

"Well technically I'm the only one who shared any new information about myself," Valera said. "You now know my parents are hippies, I was a loser in high school and that I think you're handsome. The only new information I have about you is that you went to Hebrew school and Natalia might be carrying a torch for you."

"Uh, what?" Ryan wasn't sure he'd heard the last part right.

"I said, you know a lot more about where I stand then I do about you…and Natalia probably has a thing for you." Valera mumbled.

"I'm not sure I'm following here. What do I know your stand on, and what does Natalia have to do with this?" Ryan asked.

"Um, gee Ryan let's see! I pretty much told you I like you genuinely as a person, and that I think you're attractive, and then let you kiss me. What do you suppose that means? But you, I don't know what you're thinking. We don't talk outside of work. It's always you, Eric, Calleigh and Natalia as the four Musketeers. For all I know you were just really drunk or lonely tonight." Valera's face had become a kaleidoscope of emotions, and Ryan found he could no longer avoid looking her in the eyes.

"Do you think I'd be here if I was just drunk or lonely?" He asked.

"That's what I'm saying Ryan. I. Don't. Know. But apparently you think I'm the one throwing cold water on the whole situation."

Valera crossed and uncrossed her arms, blew the newly blonde hair out of her eyes and continued.

"All I know is tonight I sat down with you and Dan because I was alone at a party. Then you said some things that made me feel bad for you, because I feel…I mean, I've always thought you were good people. And I didn't let you kiss me because I was drunk, well, maybe I let you kiss me because I was drunk. But that doesn't mean I've never thought about it happening. And it did, but then in the bathroom, Natalia sort of told me she thinks you're a great guy, just not the guy for her, but she could've just been saving face. And maybe you'd rather be with Natalia. Or maybe you're just being a gentleman and walking me home to let me down easy."

Ryan considered everything she said for a moment before attempting to make a reply. Apparently, Valera didn't feel very secure about his intentions towards her. This fact seemed to upset her. That meant it stood to reason that she wanted him to have some sort of intentions. Ryan's eyes widened as the penny finally dropped. Valera was worried he'd hurt her if she took what happened tonight to heart. He could hurt Valera, because she cared…about him.

"I was kind of expecting the same thing…from you." Ryan stated, while stuffing his hands in his pockets and staring at the ground.

"Expecting what?" Valera asked.

"You know, to be let down easy, I thought that was the point of this walk. Usually this situation ends with the girl dragging you somewhere private to "talk"," Ryan resisted the urge to use air quotes, or his sarcastic voice. "When what the talk always turns about to be is a lecture on how we should just be friends, or if I'm really lucky, it includes some back story about the guy she's really interested in, who p.s. is probably an asshole."

"Oh," Valera paused before bravely stating the obvious. "Well, maybe this is a case of misunderstanding, on say a Shakespearean level?"

Valera dared to smile after cracking the joke, and Ryan remembered the look on her face before they kissed the first time. The last time he'd felt this hopeful, Barack Obama was announcing his candidacy for President.

"Well, I don't know if it's really on Shakepeare's level. I mean, I'm pretty sure you're not a girl, disguised as a boy, disguised as a girl. You aren't right?" Ryan asked, and Valera giggled while shaking her head no.

"But I think you're right. There's definitely some misunderstanding here that should probably be cleared up." He continued.

Valera's smile widened even further, and Ryan wondered if he could do or say what was necessary to dispel any of her remaining doubt. What would Obama do? He'd say…Yes we can! Yes we can! Yes we can!

"Um…I was thinking, it's really late, and we should probably get off the streets. But maybe we could discuss further how to overcome this misunderstanding. Maybe, over dinner? Cause I can't speak for you Max, but I'll be interested on Monday."

Ryan had no time to react as Valera's body crashed into his. In seconds her hands were in his hair and her mouth was fused to his. Valera was kissing him for all she was worth, and he hadn't even gotten the chance to close his eyes yet. Once the initial surprise wore off, Ryan attempted to respond to the kiss, but Valera was already pulling away.

"I'd love to have dinner!" she cried, flashing him bright eyes, and white teeth with a smile that took up her whole face. "When?"

Valera looked up at Ryan expectantly, and awaited his answer. She laughed a little when she realized she was probably not going to get it anytime soon. Ryan was currently staring at her, open mouthed with his hair all askew. The only reply he'd made to her question was a noise she'd heard her sister's kids make when their pacifiers were taken away. Valera decided she'd have to take the initiative herself.

"How about the next day we both have off? But that could be eons away. How about the next evening we both have off? No, no that's probably just as unlikely. I know! How about the next time we can both leave work for a couple of hours without being missed too badly?" Valera was impressed by her logic at this late hour, and after so much champagne.

She continued to stare at Ryan, looking for an answer and hoping he'd collected himself by now.

"Kay." Ryan was still a little overcome. He'd done the hard part, and asked the girl out. Now he felt the way someone did after successfully completing a death defying act of bravery; elated, but also tired and speechless.

"Can we start walking again now?" Valera asked hopping from foot to foot. "These heels are killing my feet."

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Let's get out here." Ryan offered Valera his arm to lean on.

"Thanks." Valera sincerely appreciated his display of chivalry.

They made their way to the corner, and turned right onto the residential street that led to Valera's neighbourhood. Neither said much during the short walk to Valera's home, relying instead on indulgent smiles, and short kisses to say everything. Eventually Valera came to a stop in front of a white, Spanish style bungalow. There was a Toyota Prius parked in the drive way, and a fence running along the side and back of the property. Ryan could hear the tell tale gurgle of pool coming from the back garden.

"Nice place." Ryan said, pausing in the drive way to look at the house. "I was expecting an apartment building, or condo."

He wondered briefly if he shouldn't request lab rat detail, as it clearly paid better than being a CSI.

"It would probably have been the former if it wasn't for George," Valera said, pulling him by the arm up the drive way. "We've been living together since grad school. She has her own business now. So, I pay my portion of the mortgage, but all the extras are George."

"Wow! Does she need another best friend?" Ryan asked jokingly.

"Well you never know. She is pretty social." Valera replied laughingly, as they reached the front door.

Valera was about to fit her key into the door when she paused, and turned to Ryan.

"I'm not saying you do, but if you do want to kiss me good night, now might be the best time, as I can guarantee George is still awake and waiting for my call."

"Oh, right, okay." Ryan answered a little bewildered by her statement.

"You're welcome to come in first," Valera answered to clear up his confusion. "But, I'm pretty sure we'll have an audience."

"I see. Well, in that case…" Ryan made a lunge for her as soon as the words left his mouth.

Valera's back slammed against her front door as Ryan kissed her hard and thoroughly.

"Jesus, I'm sorry did I hurt you?" Ryan asked trying to pull away.

"No! no, never mind." Valera replied reaching for him, and finding herself pressed against the door again before Ryan's mouth found hers.

xxXxx

Inside Valera's quaint little home a young woman was drifting off on the couch. Georgiana Bowering was somewhere between sleep and consciousness when she heard a thump from the front door. George's eyes flew open. The first thing she noticed was that the television was still on, and the last thing she could remember watching was Saturday Night Live. George only tolerated the show for Andy Samberg, but she'd gotten her Samberg fix hours ago, and it was clearly either very late at night, or very early in the morning. Her next thought was of Maxine. George scrabbled for her cell phone on the coffee table and checked it. No calls were displayed, missed or otherwise. Again, a thump came from the front door. Could it be Max? Why would it be Max, she had a key. Perhaps she'd lost her key. Maybe she was too drunk to operate her key. But why would she have left the club without calling? What if she'd been attacked and was now only able to thump against the door with the last of the life in her body? What if Max was still at the club, and some deranged madman was now trying to break into their home? George jumped as the noises against the door went from thumping to scratching.

George debated calling 911. What could she tell them? Someone's knocking at my door, albeit in a muffled and slightly menacing manner. Her parents had warned her of this sort of thing when she'd declared her intentions to settle in America. They had taken the typically British stance that every major American city was riddled with crime and rude people rushing about with no time to help their fellow man. "Everyone carries a gun. Ridiculous!" had been her father's statement, and George had bit her tongue to keep from mentioning the large number of rifles he kept in their country home, and used regularly to harass birds and foxes. Still, Max's job had taught her how dangerous life can be, and truth be told, spooked her a little. George crept towards the door and listened. There was definitely someone on the other side of that door, and they were not using any of the traditional methods such as knocking, doorbell or key to get inside. She began to panic slightly, at least, as much as a traditional British aristocratic upbringing would allow her to.

George slinked back towards the front window and opened it quietly. If she could get her head out she could look at the front door, hopefully undetected. George slowly leaned out the window, and wondered if ground floor windows were more of a security threat than anything else. She focused on the area around the front door, and cursed the small palm like trees that were on either side of the door. George knew they weren't actual palm trees as they were too short and round for that, but she'd never learned what they were. All she knew was they were in the way. Suddenly she heard movement, and saw two figures in the moonlight. One was definitely Maxine, the other was a man. And from the looks of it they were engaged in some sort of struggle! The man was pulling on Maxine's purse clearly trying to rob her, if not violate her! The fiend must have followed Maxine home and then grabbed her. Why did she try walking home? She knew George would pick her up, they'd arranged it and all.

George cursed silently and looked back over the living room. The only sort of weapon she had handy was a large, antique umbrella which sported a marble ball about the size of baseball on its handle. George ran to the stand beside the door, and grabbed the umbrella from it. She held it like a bat in one hand as she reached for the front door with the other. After one deep breath for bravery, and a silent Huzzah, George opened the door swinging.

xxXxx

"Come on Max, I need that!" Ryan was grabbing at his cell phone which Valera had just taken from his hands.

She was giggling and smiling at him impishly, her clothing and hair in disarray courtesy of their make out session against the door. She'd taken the cell phone from him when he'd tried to call a taxi.

"What's the matter Ryan? Scared to come in? I promise George won't ask too many questions." Valera was dangling the cell phone towards him, and pulling it back whenever he made a reach for it.

"Seriously Max, don't put me through this. I just spent the better part of a night being scrutinized by your other female friends. I've got no self esteem left." He joked making a lunge for her.

Valera squealed, and dumped the cell phone in her purse as Ryan caught her around the waist.

"Really?" She asked as he kissed her again. "You seemed sure enough of yourself when you were having your way with me against that door."

Ryan simply smiled against her mouth and attempted to get his hand in her purse. He didn't really care either way how he got home that night. Valera was just really sexy when she was riled up, and he was ecstatic that he was the cause of her silly mood.

"Uh, uh, uh." She tsked, moving away from him as she felt his hand in her purse. They were now standing a foot apart holding her bag between them like a tug of war.

Ryan was about to give in and call a cab from her house, roommate or no roommate when the front door opened and a small, red haired woman came flying at him with what appeared to be a large stick in her hand.

"Get back! I've called the police! Don't think I won't hurt you!" George knew she was lying, but only about the calling the police part.

Ryan moved into a defensive stance as Valera started to scream.

"George wait! Don't hit him!" Valera was trying to grab the umbrella from her friend.

"Don't hit him! Do you bloody well want to get mugged?" George asked. She paused but didn't lower the umbrella.

"No! No, George this is Ryan, my er, co-worker, he's a cop!" Valera slowly removed the umbrella from her friend's hands.

"A cop? Why is he trying to steal your purse then?" George pointed to Valera's bag which was now in Ryan's right hand. Valera had forgotten it in her haste to prevent his getting beaten.

"I'm not!" Ryan said dropping the purse, and raising his hands to ear level like a suspect.

"See he's not, it was just a game. I was teasing him. Why did you think he was robbing me?" Valera asked.

"What else am I supposed to think when I hear a strange thumping at my door at 4:30 in the morning, and then observe some strange man trying to liberate my best friend's purse from her, clearly against her will?" George asked while peering at Valera and Ryan.

As she stopped to catch her breathe George took a few seconds to observe the two people in front of her more closely. Both of them were in a state of disarray. Ryan's shirt was un-tucked and opened widely at the neck. Valera's hair was a mess, and one of her dress straps was hanging limply at her elbow. She was also wearing a tie around her neck that if George had to bet money on it she would guess belonged to Ryan's suit. The pieces slowly fell into place and George coloured at her mistake.

Ryan noticed the flush on her cheeks, and figured she had realized what had actually been going on outside her door. So this was George. Ryan noted a compact, yet curvy figure contained in silk pajamas. Her chin length hair was styled in a modern version of the finger wave. She reminded him of a cross between Kristen Scott Thomas and an old time movie star. She had the kind of face and poise that spoke of wealth and breeding. As he reached out a hand in introduction she arched an eye brow at him in manner even Calleigh and Alex would fail to duplicate. It was the kind of arch that came from blue blood.

"Ryan Wolfe," he stated. "Sorry about the misunderstanding, that seems to be happening to me a lot tonight. I was just walking Valera home."

"Indeed?" George accepted his hand and shook it firmly. "Georgiana Bowering."

Ryan suspected his assumptions about her background might be dead on based solely on the handshake and her name. Not to mention the cultured tones the greeting was delivered in. Where in the world had Valera found this woman?

"I, uh, should call a cab and get going." Ryan said retrieving his phone from Valera's bag and handing the purse back to her.

"Oh, don't leave on my account. I was ready for bed before all this excitement. Clearly, I should have just gone there, and waited for Maxine's call if it was coming. Pleasure to meet you Mr. Wolfe, and thank you for seeing Maxine home safely." George retreated into the porch, taking the umbrella with her.

"Just Ryan is fine," Ryan called to her back. "There's already someone who calls me Mr. Wolfe, and it's annoying enough when he does it."

Valera waited till the door shut behind her friend, and then turned back to Ryan.

"I am so sorry about that," Valera started.

"Don't worry about it," Ryan said taking her hands in his. "At least to you know she cares. I'll sleep better at night knowing you're well protected."

"That I am, that I am," Valera replied.

She looked over Ryan's shoulder and saw that the night sky had shifted to morning shades of pink and orange.

"You should probably call a cab. If there's any chance we get called in today, despite the fact it's supposed to be our day off, it'll be brutal enough as it is."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Ryan said, dialing the number to a reputable cab company.

Valera watched in silence as he made small talk with the dispatcher and gave them her address.

"They said it'd be about twenty minutes. Early morning in Miami after a Saturday night is obviously their peak time." Ryan said.

"I can imagine," Valera said. "I'll wait with you."

Valera sat on her porch in the early morning sun, and tugged gently on Ryan's hands to encourage him to do the same. They sat, enjoying the morning and each other's company until a cab pulled up in front of the house. The driver honked twice, and while Ryan was reluctant to go, he could only imagine how busy the poor guy behind the wheel must be. Valera walked him to the cab, and he pulled her close for one last kiss.

Valera darted her head to one side before Ryan could complete his mission. "So I'll see you on Monday?" She asked. "And you'll still be interested?"

"Very interested," was his reply, followed by a lingering kiss.

"You want a ride or not Romeo?" The cabby was clearly not interested or impressed.

Ryan rolled his eyes at Valera and got into the cab. She waited until the car turned off her street to walk back towards the house. George had left the door unlocked alleviating the need for her key, and Valera gently locked it again behind her. She paused by the door and had a moment of private ecstasy when she took of her shoes. They were beautiful, but deceiving. Nothing that exquisite should cause so much pain, but they did, and she was happy to be free of them. The pain caused by beautiful heels was probably a lot like giving birth Valera thought, women forget about it until the next time. She padded silently through the house until she reached George's bedroom door. Valera knocked softly and waited for her friend's quiet "Come in", before entering.

George was lying in her ornate four poster bed, her petite form swamped by miles of what Valera knew to be very expensive linens.

"Did I ruin everything?" George asked forlornly.

"Why would you think there was anything to ruin," Valera asked cheekily.

George sat up amongst her pillows, which Valera often referred to as "enough for an army".

"Well obviously you were snogging him. And he is quite dishy, if colour blind. And has a real job, and is probably not "dangerous" in a bad way. I'd really hate to have bungled your chances with such a man." George replied, straightening out her blankets.

"First of all, he isn't colour blind. Not that I know of anyway," Valera said climbing into the bed, and settling against her friend. "And he can be dangerous when he wants to be, he is a cop."

George arched her eyebrow again, and fingered the tie around Valera's neck. "Max, darling, this tie is electric blue, and I believe those are orange stripes. If the man isn't colour blind then he has a very amusing wardrobe department working for him."

Valera's response was to stick out her tongue. "I somehow doubt Ryan has a wardrobe department hiding in his one bedroom apartment."

"Well he can have as many ugly ties as he likes as long as he has gainful employment and has never been in jail." George said.

Valera rolled her eyes. George had never gotten over the disaster that was Nick Townsend. Truth be told, she hadn't been impressed by many of Valera's boyfriends.

"No George, he's never been in jail. And he's not just a cop, he's a CSI, and duh, duh, da, dum, he's got Masters in Genetics!" Valera replied, drum roll and all.

"Good Lord! Is he still here? You didn't let him leave did you? What does he want in return for possibly being you're first non- ne'er do well boyfriend? My first born is up for grabs if needed." George joked.

"Very funny," Valera said, cuddling further into the bed. "Can I stay?"

"Only if you bathe first, you smell like champagne, dancing and a good time. I'll be far too jealous to sleep." George said pushing Valera out of the bed.

"Fine, I want to eat something and brush my teeth anyway." Valera said stomping off in the direction of the kitchen.

Valera made herself a quick breakfast of muesli and yogurt and then went into her bathroom. A bathroom all her own was one of the luxuries she silently thanked George for everyday. Valera started the shower and began to undress. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and paused for a moment. The woman staring back at Valera reminded her of herself, but happier. The woman's hair was a mess and her complexion was flushed from champagne and romance. Valera pulled off Ryan's tie and smiled at it. She looked back at herself in the mirror, and buried her nose in the scrap of fabric while inhaling deeply. She wasn't being a silly girl, but a dedicated scientist. Valera had read the latest research on genetic compatibility in couples and tried to ascertain her reaction to Ryan's scent. She inhaled deeply three more times and tried not let thinking interrupt her reaction. The fluttering in her stomach, and the giddiness she felt, led her to hypothesize two things; she and Ryan probably did not share too many common genetic markers, and they would have great chemistry. Valera stepped into her shower, and sang happily to herself while wishing Sunday away quickly.

Hey baby won't you take a chance?
Say that you'll let me have this dance?
Well let's dance; let's dance.

Hey baby if you're all alone, baby you'll let me walk you home.
Let's dance.
Hey baby yeah you swing it right, yes I know that tonight's the night.

Let's dance.

The End.

Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed, you guys rock as hard as The Ramones!