Author's Notes: We've just been introduced... I do not know you well... but when the music started, something drew me to your side... --Sways-- This one is based on that awesome scene from The King and I: 'Shall we dance?' XD Not necessary to have seen it, however if you want to take a peek you can search 'Shall we dance?' on Youtube :P

Lol thought I better add in a little warning lol... the first part is a little... 'abrupt'. Defs not for kidlets :P I left it in against the warning of my 'editor', Alice. It's a bit different to what I usually do lol... I'm generally pretty strait-laced but you know... first time for everything... :P Anyways, I hope that doesn't discourage you ;)

Don't own a thing.

Lessons and Lists

Mr. Todd hurtled into his barbershop and slammed the door behind him. Swinging wildly into his barber chair he loosened his trousers hastily, yanking at the belt so violently that the buckle (already loose from wear and tear) snapped right off the belt. Mr. Todd didn't care. He tossed it aside and pulled the trousers down to his thighs. With a shuddery intake of breath he slid his trembling hand around what had been torturing him almost ceaselessly for more than a week. No matter how many times he pleasured himself it would come back almost immediately after but it was better than suffering in silence.

Throwing his head back he gave a grunt as the pressure and heat began to increase between his legs.

"Urgh… Mrs. Lovett." He groaned, bucking against his hand as though it was her relieving his tension and not himself… "Yes."

He arched his back against the warm gush of relief, trying to stifle his shrill moan of satisfaction.

He relaxed in the barber chair, lowering his back and attempting to steady his haggard, uneven breathing. Removing his hand from between his legs, he yanked up his pants, shuddering slightly at the sticky discomfort left behind. Even now he felt unsatisfied. The brief relief lasted barely long enough to enjoy. With a deep sigh of frustration he pushed himself to his feet and waddled bowlegged to his dresser to fetch a clean pair of trousers.

--

Mrs. Lovett sat down on Sunday morning, resolved to do something she had been thinking about doing for a while since Mr. Todd's masculinity mania began. She had continuously put it off, continuously put it from her mind but she felt now was an ideal time to do it. The shop was closed and she couldn't think of anything pressing on the chores front.

So taking up a piece of hot pressed paper and an ink pen she laid it down on her kitchen table and took a seat behind it, admiring its unmarked brilliance. Picking up the ink pen she wrote in large, if slightly clumsy letters (she had never been a particularly attentive student and girls were only considered to need to know the very basics): Mrs. Lovett's List Of What Makes Men Manly. She accidentally left a blot after the word 'manly' and tried to smudge it out, making it much worse in the process. She tilted her head… it sort of looked like she'd written 'ManlyoO'… but it'd have to do.

She paused, thinking over what she could write. She had considered the subject before so she had a fairly clear idea of what she could start it with…

A man should not be afraid to show emotion…

Yes. That would be a good beginning. After all, if there was one thing Mr. Todd was terrified of above all else, it was showing emotion. And in Mrs. Lovett's mind visible fear was visible weakness, so therefore in a… tweaked sort of way… Mr. Todd was showing weakness through this fear…

Mrs. Lovett cocked her head slightly to the side as she savoured this theory. It was imperfect but not completely ridiculous. Satisfied, she took pen to paper again.

A man should be confident in himself; chronic insecurity is a chronic turn off to women…

A man should not sulk and carry on like a two-year-old when they don't get their own way…

Mrs. Lovett snorted as wrote the last one. Mr. Todd seemed unable to keep from having a tantrum when he was denied what he wanted. It was rather off-putting. No woman wanted to feel like she was living with a spoilt child when they were actually living with a full-grown man.

A man should…

She paused again, pen poised between her teeth. What did she want Mr. Todd to be? Sensual? Yes. Passionate? Yes. But you couldn't breed passion into a passionless wretch and all men had sensuality, even if it was mostly confined to their trousers… What she wanted was… him to give her the attention he seemed to give everyone and everything else freely. Even his dead wife got more attention than Mrs. Lovett and she was… well, dead… supposedly…

A man should be…

Unselfish? Lavish? Tender? None matched well with Mr. Todd's cold, indifferent outer shell and troubled, deteriorating inner.

A man should be able to…

She paused.

… dance.

--

"Read it and weep." Mrs. Lovett slapped her finished work onto Mr. Todd's dresser, ten minutes later.

Mr. Todd stared at her. "What is this? A will? Are you going to leave me a nice, plump inheritance?"

"Mr. Todd. Was that an attempt at… a joke?" Mrs. Lovett smirked, cocking an eyebrow. "I think I prefer you complaining and sulking than attempting humour. I've had too much experience with your warped sense of humour, love."

Mr. Todd rolled his eyes at her and wandered over to her paper. "Still going on about that Anthony incident are we? It's in the past, try moving on."

"It was yesterday!" Mrs. Lovett burst out.

Mr. Todd didn't reply, he was reading the paper, brow furrowed. "Manlyoo… what the hell is that?"

"Manly, dear, manly." Mrs. Lovett said irritably, as he turned his eyes back to the paper.

Mrs. Lovett waited patiently by the door, hands on hips and eyes watching to see his reaction. But Mr. Todd was a hard man to read, emotion rarely played across that haggard and cold countenance.

"Dancing." He remarked dubiously. "Dancing makes men masculine?" He glanced at Mrs. Lovett standing calmly at the door.

"Women respect a man, Mr. Todd who doesn't have to brandish a sword… or a razor… to think himself manly." She replied coolly, leaning against the door and crossing her arms.

Mr. Todd raised an eyebrow. He looked doubtful but also… thoughtful… although wondering whether he'd just stumbled upon the mystery solution to his masculinity woes. He read the list again through and then with a small shrug picked it up and handed it out to Mrs. Lovett.

"I don't need advice from a woman on how to be manly." He said icily.

Mrs. Lovett snatched it from him haughtily. "It's that attitude, Mr. Todd which will see you unbedded for the next forty years." She stalked out of the shop, leaving Mr. Todd feeling very unsatisfied and uncertain.

--

Mrs. Lovett undressed for bed that night feeling more irked by Mr. Todd than usual. She stepped out of her dress and loosened her corset with a glad sigh as her stomach was released from its cruel suppressant. She let her hair out of its pins and searched for her nightdress among the discarded clothes that accumulated on her bedroom floor and furniture. She found it and pulled it on.

Dumping her clothes onto a chair, she fell into bed emotionally exhausted from her efforts to pull herself closer to Mr. Todd to only be rebuffed again. Stupid, insufferable man! She sighed huffily beneath the covers as she lay there, staring at the ceiling and brooding on the wretchedness of being alone. If only she could see into his mind, then she might be able to please him.

She turned onto her side and closed her eyes, blowing out the candle on her bedside table as she did. Mr. Todd's face swam before her eyes, as she lay there, silent and morose. It was wretched being alone. It was hopeless trying to make someone love you who didn't. Mrs. Lovett had more experience of that than most.

She felt an unintentional tear slide slowly down her cheek and pool on her ear lobe. Then another followed it and soon they were falling steadily from her eyes and she made no effort to stem the flow. This was not the first time she had cried over Mr. Todd and it wouldn't be the last. Hot, anguished tears of frustration often fell on her cheeks when she was alone and brooding on the apparent impossibility of gaining Mr. Todd's affections.

After a few, self pitying moments she dried her eyes and turned on her front, burying her head into her pillow. She was tired and emotionally ruined… she needed to sleep…

--

An hour later she was still painfully awake and tossing frustrated from side to side. The covers seemed to clutch uncomfortably on her bare legs and the sheets seemed hot against her skin but every time she threw the covers off the icy slap of night air had her dragging them back on seconds later.

Glancing irritably at her bedside clock she wondered whether she should give up on sleep and go to the kitchen for a nightcap. It was two am… if she was careful she should have been able to avoid waking up Toby… or the Grinch…

With her mind made up she threw her legs over the side of the bed and stumbled blindly to find her dressing gown. Unfortunately she misjudged the distance between her chair and her bed and walked straight into it, swearing furiously as she massaged her bruised shin. After she had managed to lessen the pain, she began to bury through her clothes. She felt for any sign of the soft, worn cotton of her dressing gown but after five or ten minutes she still hadn't found it.

With a cross grunt, she pushed the clothes she had been rifling through roughly onto the floor and stumbled back over to her bedside table, searching for matches. It was useless trying to search in the dark.

As she was fumbling with her candle and holder, she heard a distant creak on the stairs and froze. After a few minutes of listening fiercely for the sound of footsteps she returned to hunting for matches. She threw open her drawer and rummaged through it for any sign of the painted box she usually kept them in.

"Damn you… where are you?" She hissed, slamming an empty hairpin tin across the drawer with unnecessary force. She slammed the top-drawer shut and wrenched the second one open.

Suddenly she heard another creak outside her door and felt a twinge of unease in her stomach. She didn't like hearing noises in the middle of the night, the house was old and the thought of what lay below in the bakehouse always caused her a little pang when she was alone in the darkness. But, Mrs. Lovett was no damsel in distress and she was no idiot. She kept a carving knife in her bedside table like every other wise Londoner did and she made sure it was within arm's reach when she was in bed. It was this knife she leant for now in the vulnerable darkness. She found it under the neatly folded handkerchiefs in the second drawer and gripped it at her side. Then she slunk back against the wall, fully covered by darkness. If they had been planning to strangle her in her sleep they'd have another thing coming.

After a few torturous minutes of standing in the dark, breathing as lightly as she could possibly manage and waiting for her uninvited visitor to enter she heard the door creak open and she felt her knees weaken slightly in fear but gave herself a mental shake. She could just make out a figure in the darkness, coming towards her bed. She watched them pass her and approach the bed, leaning forward over the empty covers. Mrs. Lovett saw her time to act was now and slunk out of the shadows, eyes on the figure. She crept behind them as they held out their hand to the covers of her bed. After a slight hesitation, she shot her hand around their neck as she had seen Mr. Todd do countless times, and pressed the carving knife to their throat. She felt them tense under her grip.

"You'd best start talking." She hissed, forcing them upright and back from the bed. "I may not feel generous enough to just call the runners on you-

However before she had time to feel smug in her triumphant, the figure had jerked around against her arm and before she had time to defend herself, had thrown her down onto the bed, holding her down firmly one hand on each arm.

"Impressive, Mrs. Lovett. But next time maybe choose a weapon a little sharper than a garden spade." Came a cool voice from the darkness.

"You!" Mrs. Lovett burst out in outrage. "What… are you…?" She struggled against his strong grip. "You can let go of me now, you idiot." Her pelvis was pressed uncomfortably against his thigh and she was aware of her nightdress hitched up around her hips. "Get off!" She snapped, bucking against him and drawing from him an odd, strained cry. After that he couldn't get off her fast enough, scrambling to his feet and busying himself with her candle. Mrs. Lovett yanked her nightdress down crossly and got to her feet, feeling flustered and annoyed.

Mr. Todd managed to find the matches behind the bedside clock. He could feel his cheeks burning and didn't particularly want Mrs. Lovett to see his evident discomposure so attempted to prolong the lighting process as long as possible. Pressing the woman he spent most of his time fantasizing about to a bed when she was dressed only in a nightdress was perhaps the stupidest thing he'd done in a long time and all in the name of asserting his dominance. He could have just replied: 'It's me' but of course he had to wrestle her onto the bed and pin her to it. He cringed in the darkness and lowered a lit match to the candle.

Mrs. Lovett slammed the carving knife onto the dresser and it was satisfying to have Mr. Todd jump slightly as she did so. He scowled at her and blew out the match, letting it fall onto her bedside table.

"You should keep a sharper knife. Those carving knives don't even leave a smart." Mr. Todd said stiffly, touching his fingers over the area where her knife had been placed. There was a tiny scratch and nothing else. "Or even better, invest in a pistol."

Mrs. Lovett glared at him and put the carving knife back in her drawer. "It would have worked fine if I'd shoved it between your ribs, Mr. Todd."

"Ah. But you hesitated." Mr. Todd replied, his eyes glinting. "Never hesitate. That's something I learnt quickly, Mrs. Lovett."

Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, yes. Whatever. Now what are you doing here?"

Mr. Todd looked away, feeling stupid and sheepish. Mrs. Lovett stood before him, hands on hips.

"Well…" He gestured aimlessly. "I was… thinking about what you said…"

Mrs. Lovett looked quickly at him. "Yes?"

"And well…" He hesitated. "…Do women really think dancing is manly?"

--

"Ouch, Mr. Todd. Watch where you're putting your feet!"

Mr. Todd glowered at Mrs. Lovett as she led him pointedly in a lumbering, heavy-footed 'waltz' about her living room. The furniture had been pushed to one side, leaving a good space in the middle for Mr. Todd's midnight dancing lesson. Or midmorning rather…

"Look. Watch me." Mrs. Lovett said briskly, Mr. Todd's hands in hers. "One, two, three… one, two, three… one- Ouch, you're on my foot… two, three… one, two, three… one, two, three…" Mr. Todd followed her clumsily, eyes fixed on his feet and feet treading uncertainly and inelegantly behind Mrs. Lovett's. He was obviously not made for dancing.

"It's… more of a smooth movement than that, Mr. T." Mrs. Lovett said patiently. "You step forward and then to the side-

"That's stupid." Mr. Todd snapped irritably. "How can anyone do this stupid dance…"

"Well, many people have mastered it in the past, Mr. Todd. So I assume it isn't impossible." Mrs. Lovett replied coldly. "Perhaps if you loosened up a bit and didn't grip onto my hands like a bird of prey on a rabbit you'd have more luck with the 'smooth' part of the equation."

Mr. Todd glared at her but loosened his grip slightly on her hands.

"And look up, at me." Mrs. Lovett continued.

Mr. Todd reluctantly dragged his eyes from his feet to Mrs. Lovett's face.

"And you know, you don't have to hold me at arm's length." Mrs. Lovett remarked, as Mr. Todd held her almost as far from his chest as possible.

"Well, well… one thing at a time!" He blustered, already feeling hot from the closeness between them.

Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes. Mr. Todd ignored her. He wasn't letting her lure him into a state of false security and allowing himself to relax in her arms. If he did, he didn't know what would happen…

"Come on." He said hastily. "One, two three. One, two, three." He shook her hands impatiently. "Come on."

Mrs. Lovett sighed inwardly. "Ok. Forward, to the side, together. Forward, to the side, together-

"What happened to one, two, three?" He demanded.

"I'm dumbing it down for you." Mrs. Lovett replied shortly. "Now shut up."

She led him firmly in the dance, speaking aloud the entire time to guide him and steering him by his hands in hers. After a few rounds, he seemed to be getting the basics. "Ok. Now that you can do that, we'll try it with music," She left him and went to a wooden cabinet she usually kept locked. She unlocked it and brought out a dusty music box she hadn't looked at for a good few years.

"Ha. Haven't seen one of those in a while." Mr. Todd grunted as she fiddled with it on top of the cabinet. "Lucy used to have one."

Mrs. Lovett froze over the music box, feeling the usual cold rush of displeasure whenever her rival's name was spoken. But Mr. Todd didn't continue and after a few moments she returned to winding the music box.

"There we are." She said quietly, as the eerie, tinkling music began to fill the darkened living room. She found Mr. Todd staring broodingly into the fireplace, his back to Mrs. Lovett. "Mr. T?"

"Mmm?" He turned to her.

"Come on." She said bracingly, feeling misery welling up in her chest at yet again another reminder of Mr. Todd's darling ex-wife.

He came wordlessly to her arms and took her hands in his. "One, two, three." He said firmly, seeming to drag himself back into the present.

"One, two, three." Mrs. Lovett nodded, beginning to guide him forward. "One, two, three…" Mr. Todd's brow was set, he looked like he was about to perform brain surgery and not simply do the waltz.

"Relax!" Mrs. Lovett chided him. "Loosen up! You can't dance when you're as stiff as a board."

Mr. Todd cringed inwardly at the irony of this sentiment.

After a few, uncertain stumbles Mr. Todd gradually got into the rhythm of the music and relaxed his manner a little.

"Alright." Mrs. Lovett said at length. "We might as well try doing it properly now."

"Properly?" Mr. Todd said sharply.

"Yes. You don't think people dance like this usually, do you?" Mrs. Lovett clucked, nodding at their clutched hands. "Like bloody folk dancers."

Mr. Todd didn't like where this was going. "What do you want from me?" He whined. "I'm 'effing dancing aren't I?"

"You most certainly 'effing' are." Mrs. Lovett replied with a smirk. "But you're dancing with me like I'm your grandmother."

Mr. Todd didn't reply. He was feeling very hot around the collar.

"Put your hand on my waist." Mrs. Lovett ordered him.

"What." Mr. Todd squeaked. "Do I have to?"

"Women like men who don't carry on like adolescent boys." Mrs. Lovett said pointedly as the barber flushed and fidgeted.

"Fine." He snapped, shoving his hand so roughly onto her waist, Mrs. Lovett jerked back. "What do I do with this hand?" He held his free hand up.

Mrs. Lovett raised an eyebrow. "Whatever you like."

Mr. Todd choked slightly and Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes. "In my hand, Mr. Todd. Put it in my hand."

He obeyed and they stood for a few minutes, admiring their position. They seemed to fit each other quite neatly in height and shape. Apart from being incredibly aroused, Mr. Todd thought he had done quite well to get this far.

"Alright." Mrs. Lovett breathed, secretly delighted to be so close to Mr. Todd in such an intimate position. "One, two, three…" Slowly and with a few lurches they began to dance. Mr. Todd was much better than Mrs. Lovett had originally thought and after a few turns he seemed to have it.

"So, you think this makes me manly?" He asked her as they turned.

Mrs. Lovett frowned at him. "Why is that so important to you?"

"Well, why is femininity so important to a woman?" He retorted smugly.

"It isn't." Mrs. Lovett replied. "I couldn't care less about it."

"Oh… well me neither…" Mr. Todd trailed off.

Mrs. Lovett raise her eyebrows at him in disbelief but decided not to taunt him. She was too tired anyway. The dancing lesson had sapped her of the energy she had had under an hour ago when she had been struggling to get to sleep.

"Mr. Todd… I think I might turn in." She said at length, as they came to a stop. "I have to get up early to open the shop."

But Mr. Todd did not remove his hand from her waist or make any movement to leave her. Mrs. Lovett was very aware of the closeness between them, the heat was beginning to rise in her cheeks. Mr. Todd was watching her with a strange look on his face, the usual troubled frown on his brow.

"Mr. T…" Mrs. Lovett hissed, as his grip on her waist tightened "What are you doing…"

Mr. Todd didn't know what he was doing. All he knew was that he was pressed against Mrs. Lovett and he was full of burning, furious lust. He could have so easily forced her down onto the settee and had her right there… and more than half of him wanted to.

He leant forward slightly, his eyes fixed on her flushed lips and then caught himself just in time and dropped his hands from her waist and hand. He left her without a word. Mrs. Lovett watched him go, puzzled by his strange behaviour.

"It's the weather." She decided as she snuffed the candles and put away the music box. "The heat must be getting to him. He's only a slight, delicate little thing after all."

As she took herself off to bed she wondered whether Mr. Todd would want any further dance lessons. She certainly wouldn't mind if he did…

--

This couldn't go on…this daily torture. If he didn't have some sort of relief he was going to lose it. He had never been good at keeping his temper (or anything else) in control and he had a vague fear that if he kept swallowing his intense sexual arousal like he was, he'd explode and… well, it wouldn't be pretty. Meanwhile Mrs. Lovett was blissfully unaware that she was the object of his… sick attentions. Mr. Todd wasn't sure whether her ignorance was as vital as he had thought it was. In fact, he had a suspicion that the longer he let her believe he was indifferent towards her the greater the shock would be when he couldn't keep his feelings internalised any longer. And not to mention humiliating…

A disturbing flash of him forcing himself onto Mrs. Lovett flashed across his mind as he sat silently in his barber chair. Would he go that far? As he sat in the dark he was unsettled to find that he could no longer respond to that question with a confident 'no'.

End of Chapter Fourteen