CHAPTER TEN

Fling

(ref: The Girl in the Fireplace)

Jeanne Antoinette Poisson. She was better known to her friends as Renet, and known in the history books as Madame du Pompadour. There had been nothing remarkable about her when he'd first met her. As a seven-year-old child, she was simply another little girl in pre-revolutionary France. Well, maybe not simply another little girl. She was a little girl being stalked by a 51st century ship in the Diagmar Cluster. That made her a bit interesting. And, of course, she was interesting to the Doctor for the time period in which she was born. Of all the periods in Earth's history, the Doctor had always had a special fondness for pre-Revolutionary France.

There were reasons for that, none of which had anything particularly to do with her.

Seeing her grown, though, now that had been a bit of a shock to his senses. Even before he'd known her name, before he recognized her, she had captivated him. He'd not smelled so many pheromones so suddenly and unexpectedly in all his life. At least not from someone he didn't even recognize. Not immediately, anyway.

But that first touch of her fingers on his face had jolted him. So intimate a touch from a stranger. He hardly knew her, and yet he'd always known her. In that instant, he recognized her - something so much more than a pretty face. It wasn't love he'd felt in that moment; it was far more primal. And it wasn't lust. She was beautiful, but he hardly cared about that. Underneath the pretty exterior, she was still only human; beauty would fade. But she was more than beautiful. She was wild and alive... and hidden - masked under a calm and proper exterior. The familiarity of that mask and the depth underneath drew him to her, far more than her beauty. She knew both the pain and the pleasure of a rigid, high class society - of playing the game and of breaking all of the rules. And seeing that in her eyes had turned him almost instantly into a bumbling idiot.

Her kiss had been unexpected, and yet not the least bit alarming. Warm and right, the culmination of a thousand lonely fantasies. She'd dreamed of him. And although he'd only just met her, he had somehow shared those nights of loneliness with her, a million nights ago, on a planet that didn't even exist anymore. Walking among her memories had filled him with a strange sense of familiarity. Their lives were so different; in fact, they couldn't be further apart. But he felt as if he belonged there - in her thoughts and in her mind. She'd welcomed him there, as if he'd been a part of her all this time. And so intimately connected to her - even if he'd only entered her mind as a matter of practicality, it made no difference - he couldn't help but be drawn in.

There were rules. The Non-Interference Policy that once bound his hands had died with Gallifrey. But that didn't mean there were no rules. His presence in her thoughts, in her dreams and fantasies since she was a little girl, had already changed her. Whether it had changed her for better or worse, he was not prepared to deal with the consequences of changing her in ways that were significant - in ways that could affect the outcome of her life. She was Madame du Pompadour. She was to love and serve the King of France. The laws of time itself did not permit the Doctor to change that and he did not want to.

But that connection was shockingly strong.

He'd resisted when she'd commanded him to dance with her. This night was too important for him to interfere. Even as he'd relented and followed her, he'd vowed to remain at a distance. But the king saw only her eloquence and poise, not the covert glances she expertly cast at the strangely dressed intruder who stood along the wall, watching. She was perfectly mannered, brilliantly beautiful, and flooding the room with pheromones. The King had no need to know of her distraction, and the Doctor had no desire to interfere. He watched her quietly, thinking, wondering. So much about her seemed so familiar...

"A door, once opened, may be stepped through in either direction."

And then there was that...

"My lonely Doctor..."

With a sigh, he finally turned and slipped away, out of the room and down the wide hallway, back towards the time window. Rose and Mickey were looking for the repair droids. Chances were fairly high that when they did find them, they wouldn't be able to resist announcing their presence. He had to smile at that. Adventure was always so much more... adventurous with Rose around.

"Doctor!"

He paused mid-step and looked over his shoulder at the elegantly dressed woman heading after him, shoes clacking on the floor. He smiled broadly as he turned fully to face her. "I could be wrong," he said, "but isn't it impolite to sneak away from your own party?"

"No more impolite than it is for you to sneak away without having said a proper goodbye."

He gave an exaggerated nod - almost a bow - and a smile. She deserved that much, and it certainly did no harm. "Goodbye then, Renet. Until we meet again."

She smiled, eyes light and teasing. "Oh, Doctor, now that will never do."

"Madamoiselle Poisson?"

Her eyes grew wider at the call from somewhere down the hallway, and she grabbed onto his arm, ducking through the door to their left into a large sitting room. The Doctor raised a brow as she shut it firmly behind them.

"I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that hiding from your guests could almost definitely be considered rude."

"Oh, he's not a guest," she said dismissively. "Family servant, nothing more."

The Doctor nodded. The pheromones were sheeting off of her again, and they were making him dizzy. "I should really go."

"Must you?"

"This is a very big night for you. I really don't want to get in the way."

She took a step forward, and he stood very still as she reached to cup the side of his face in her palm. "Indeed, it is a big night. Why must you always come at the most inopportune moments?"

He couldn't help but smile. "Not the first time I've heard that."

"And have you an answer?"

"I'm afraid not."

His smile slowly faded as he studied her. So close, and so deep. She stood staring at him as if she could see right into his soul. It was unnerving and yet, there was no fear. So few people, in all of his years, had been able to see him that way - to see right into the core of him. It was as if she didn't even have to try. And if those warm, inviting pheromones were any indication, she felt that same connection.

"I would ask you to stay," she said softly. "But you would refuse."

He nodded slightly, not speaking.

"Might I ask you to stay for only a moment, then?" Her fingers traced over his cheek, along his jaw and the side of his neck. "Just long enough to write a memory..."

"What sort of memory?"

He could hear the dark, husky tone of his own voice - an instant and incredible reaction to the heat and pheromones. She smiled knowingly as she heard it too, and stepped closer to kiss him. This time, there was no surprise. His hands moved naturally and instinctively to her waist, to the hard bones of the corset that squeezed her frame. Somewhere in his mind, he was already imagining the warmth of her soft skin.

Both hands on his shoulders, she pushed him back until he hit the wall. The tension was melting from his body and into hers. He could smell the increase in her excitement, feel it in the way she held him, hands roaming. As she finally figured out how his clothes were put together, her hand slipped down into the front of his slacks and he gasped, startled. But her body, pressed tightly against him, and a fresh wave of pheromones made his eyes roll back again.

"Oh, that's not fair," he muttered, pulling away just enough to speak.

He could feel more than see her smile. "I'm afraid evening the odds may take far more time than you're currently prepared to spend."

He growled low - an almost involuntary reaction to the firm, sure stroking of her fingers. "I could even them very quickly, but I'd be taking an awful lot for granted."

"I promise not to cry for help."

His groan turned to nervous laughter. "Oh, well, seeing as we're already in a somewhat compromising position, I should hope not."

She pulled away suddenly, withdrawing from the kiss, and took two steps toward the door before throwing the lock. Eyes fixed on him with a subtle, enticing smile on her lips, she stood with her back against it, waiting for his move with her hands touching lightly in front of her. He paused for a moment before crossing to her, but it wasn't to think, to consider. It was simply to draw in everything about this moment - this blissful and overwhelming moment where right and wrong didn't matter, and good and evil didn't exist. He didn't know what it was about her - about the few women like her that he'd crossed paths with over the years - that freed him this way. But just for a moment, she let him forget everything he was and everything he should be.

Stepping up close to her, he closed his hands around her wrists gently and raised them up, pinning them to the wood door over her head. "I have less chance of getting this dress back onto you and making you look presentable than I do of getting it off in one piece," he whispered with a smile, his lips brushing hers.

"Then I suppose you'd better take quite a lot of care."

His hands travelled down her arms, caressing slowly, all the way down her sides. "Care takes time," he whispered. "And that's one thing we don't have."

"What care do you have for time?" she teased, her smile growing darker as she added, "Time Lord."

He returned her smile, sliding his hands behind her back as she lowered hers to his shoulders and pushed him back again. He'd already done a quick look around the room and he knew where she was guiding him - a simple, wooden chair without armrests, situated in the corner. She struggled with his slacks until he finally moved her hands out of the way and pushed them down, past his hips. As he sat down, she lifted her skirts and straddled him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

His eyes slid closed, head dropping back as his body joined hers. For one peaceful, blissful moment, there was no pain and no need, no past and no future, no sins and no guilt. There was nothing but pure sensation, hot and intense.

"Oh yes..."

She buried her hands in his hair as she rocked on him, slowly building in rhythm and intensity. She was lost in the pleasure just as he was - eyes shut, body tense and tight. The sound of their labored breathing echoed off the high ceiling, drowning out the sound of the musicians playing in the other room. Her king was in that room. His life and the people he cared most about were tucked away in another nearby dimension. And right now, nothing outside of this feeling existed.

He heard her gasp, felt her tremble in his arms as she dug her nails into his shoulders, through his coat. With a low groan, he shuddered and let his control slip through his fingers, releasing inside of her. For a few moments, his world was white with pleasure. He kissed her again as he eased down slowly, letting reality creep back in around the edges until it slowly took over his field of vision.

He was smiling softly as he withdrew, letting his hands rest lightly on her waist. "Mademoiselle, tu es tres belle."

She smiled back, stroking the side of his face one last time "Even if I never see you again," she whispered, "I shall forever hold this memory dear to my heart."

"Oh, you'll see me again," he answered confidently. "At least once more; I'm sure of it."

She used his offered hands for support as she carefully stood to her feet and straightened her dress. Long before he had a chance to fasten his pants, she was the perfect picture of innocence, watching him with quiet amusement.

"And why is that?"

"Oh, no reason to worry about it now."

"Worry?"

She laughed lightly. He had to smile at her control. Even a trained eye could not have guessed that no more than sixty seconds ago, she'd been straddling his lap and gasping with pleasure.

"Well, I was hardly worried before. But now I am intrigued."

He straightened his jacket and ran a hand through his hair, regaining his sense of direction and of the world around him - of everything that his life meant and was and of what he had come here to do. He needed to get back to the ship.

"Those clockwork people," she continued curiously. "Do you know what they want?"

"I have an idea."

"And would you care to share it?"

"Oh, you let me worry about them." He glanced at himself in the mirror just to make certain everything was in place, then looked back at her with a smile. "For now, you to your king and I to my rescue."

"Rescue?"

"Oh yes." He grinned wider as he loosened his tie. "Because if I know Rose, quietly following isn't particularly in her repertoire. And I'd be willing to bet that she's gotten herself caught by now."