Ch. 1 Sparks Fly

Katara felt sexy.

She allowed herself one final appraisal in the full-length mirror before leaving. The black, satin slip dress she'd opted to wear for the evening fit her body like a glove. She noted the thin straps gracing her shoulders before lowering her gaze to her décolleté, where a cerulean pendant was attached to a navy-blue ribbon around her neck. Her eyes continued their progression, observing the flattering cowl neckline that rested atop her cleavage. Surveying the ruching detail at her hips, which enhanced the femininity of her curves, she felt satisfied with her choice of dress. The hem stopped at the middle of her thighs, which were shimmering in an alluringly subtle way thanks to the lotion she'd applied after her shower, and her gaze traveled down her legs, soft and somehow simultaneously strong, to the strappy, sparkling sapphire-colored heeled sandals she'd selected. Her toes were painted white—a contrast to the lovely tan color of her skin—and made her feel feminine and chic.

She was no amateur.

Smirking, she lifted her eyes back to her face in the mirror. She realized she didn't need makeup—who did?—but the mascara, berry-toned blush, and sheer lip gloss she'd chosen to apply made her feel polished and, simply-put, pretty. She'd fixed her chocolate-colored hair into a sleek bun atop her head, knowing full-well this would be short-lived, as she intended on letting her hair down at some point in the evening's progression. Her long, wavy locks seemed to have a bewitching effect, to which no one was immune.

She reached for her trench coat, slipping her arms through and securing the sash about her waist, subsequently reaching into the left pocket and ensuring the tazer—a gift from her protective yet well-meaning brother when she'd moved to the city—she brought with her was there for…shall we say, hazards of the job. She spritzed a warm-scented perfume on her pulse points, grabbed her black clutch, and strode out her front door into the warm evening air.

;

Her heels clicked hypnotically on the marble floor of the hotel lobby. She wasn't as familiar with this particular hotel as she was with others in the city; she'd only been to this hotel once before, where she'd spent the night with one of her first clients—oh, what was his name? Hiro? Harpoon? Haru. That was it. He was kind and gentle, but timid, and more than a little boring. Not her worst experience by far, but certainly left a lot to be desired.

She pressed the button to the elevator and, as the doors slid open, she wondered almost absently what kind of guy awaited her tonight.

;

After knocking she focused on breathing deeply, relaxing the tension she carried with her before every encounter with a new client. Within moments—as though he had been waiting by the door—the door opened, and the first thing she saw was stormy grey eyes. Her breath caught in her throat; he was quite attractive. His eyes were disarming; they seemed to bear as much intensity as they did anxiety, and while she recognized he was nervous, his gaze didn't falter from hers.

The second thing she noticed was the fact that he was bald. Strangely, she found this intriguing; there was something masculine and vulnerable about it that she couldn't quite pinpoint. The third thing she noticed was a sky-blue arrow tattooed atop his head, pointing toward the space between his eyebrows.

"H-hi," he sputtered. She instantly decided she liked his voice; it sounded kind. It suited him.

"Hi," she smiled, making an effort to keep her voice free of any trace of the treacherous anxiety (or was it excitement?) she was suddenly feeling. "May I come in?"

"Oh! Yes, of course—sorry," he smiled embarrassedly, stepping to the side and reaching an arm up to rub the back of his neck.

She strode through the door calmly, silently counting the clacking noises her heels made against the floor. "It's okay," she smiled reassuringly and reached her hand out. "I'm Thalassa." She never gave her real name to clients, mostly for safety reasons, but also because she was already giving her body, and she wanted to shield herself from the additional intimacy using her real name in these encounters would bring.

"That's a lovely name," he said, intensity still apparent in his gaze, but the anxiety she'd seen there before seemed to be gone, at least for the moment. His hand met hers and he gently squeezed her hand in his. "I'm Aang."

She released his hand and they stood gazing intently at each other for what felt like minutes, but in reality, was only seconds. Eventually, Katara blushed and averted her gaze, reaching up to fiddle with her pendant anxiously.

Her fidgeting seemed to bring Aang back to reality. "I'm sorry," he said apologetically. "You're just…I wasn't expecting…you're really beautiful."

She continued blushing—curse her treacherous body—but returned her gaze to meet his. "Thank you," she murmured. Before she could stop the impulse, she continued, "I could say the same about you." Instantly she felt heat creep up her neck, only this time it was due to embarrassment. She realized her statement was honest, though; the best word she could think of to describe the man in front of her was beautiful. While his eyes were intense and his shaved head screamed un-fragile masculinity, the rest of his features retained a certain softness. His skin looked smooth and touchable, his jaw a cross between sharp and soft, and his lips looked so kissable—

He barked a laugh. "No one's ever said that to me before."

She tried to regain some semblance of control in the situation. "What can I say…I've been known to keep people on their toes," she said in jest, smirking.

He smiled, and she felt kindness radiating from it. "I'll bet." He seemed to remember himself again and blurted, "Feel free to have a seat anywhere you'd like. Would you like anything to drink? Water? Wine?"

"Thank you, but I'm okay." She made her way to the living room as he nodded and traveled to the kitchen to pour a glass of water for himself. With his body turned away from the living room, she slinked out of her trench and sat down on the sofa, delicately crossing her legs. Suddenly she felt a bit nervous.

He's not that cute, Katara. And he's just showing basic human kindness—no need to get your feathers ruffled over that. Kindness should be expected.

Her eyes were on him as he turned to exit the kitchen into the living room, taking a sip from his glass as he did so. The sight before him—the most beautiful woman he could recall ever seeing, in the most tantalizing dress, waiting for him—caused his breath to hitch in his throat, resulting in him taking a choking breath of water. He set his glass on the nearest surface while he hunched over, hands supporting him on his thighs, and worked to stop coughing.

She was at her feet in an instant, crossing the room to stand next to him. "Oh, my gosh," she blurted. "Are you okay?" She looked at him with real concern in her eyes.

"No, it's—you're—I'm okay," he said between bouts of coughing. When he straightened and looked at her face, he forgot that he had just hugely embarrassed himself. He forgot his name. "I'm great," he said with a grin.

"Good," she laughed. Her laugh was melodic and made him feel warm and serene, like the bells he listened to when he meditated. "You worried me."

She placed her hand on his upper arm and squeezed gently with the most angelic smile on her face he'd ever remembered seeing. She removed her hand and it felt like there was a fire on his arm where her hand had been. She turned to walk back to the sofa and he quickly noted that the dress she was in—Raava, that dress—swooped lowly in the back, so low he could see the dimples above her…ahem…rather shapely derriere. He awkwardly averted his gaze and picked up the glass he'd sat on the counter after his near death experience, aware that his cheeks were flaming again, and the fact that he might still die tonight—if not due to accidental choking, it'd certainly be from the heart attack he'd experience if she smiled at him like that—wearing the sexiest dress he'd ever seen on anyone, bar none—again.

;

He sat a decent 2-3 feet away from her at the opposite end of the sofa. She noticed his nerves returning and she smirked, pleased to be in control of the situation again. She didn't like feeling out of control.

"So, Aang," she started, sensing she'd have to be the one to initiate conversation, "what brings you to Republic City? Business or pleasure?"

He smiled. She was continually pleased that his smile only conveyed kindness and nothing disingenuous. "Business, actually…mostly." He pinned her with a playful look.

She blushed and looked down.

He continued, "I'm here meeting with a good friend to discuss merging our companies."

She looked up, intrigued. "That sounds thrilling. I'm sure you'll reach a mutually beneficial agreement." She gave what she hoped was a subtle, seductive smile. While she wanted to know more about this man, she was no stranger to this industry—don't get too personal, be mindful of the client's time, keep your feelings out of it.

If he noticed her innuendo, he didn't acknowledge it. "Yeah, thrilling," he chuckled. "I have no idea what I'm doing, so that oughtta make things interesting, that's for sure." He noticed her curious expression, the slight tilt of her head. He went on, "I inherited an engineering company after the previous CEO died an untimely death. We're unique in that we're the only company that integrates all four elements—air, water, earth, fire—into our technology and architecture seamlessly. I'm still learning the ropes, really."

Her gaze was heavy with the kind of empathy that seemed more genuine than any ocean jewel. "I'm sorry to hear about the means by which you acquired your company," she expressed solemnly. "That must be overwhelming." She scooted closer to him.

He inched closer to her without thinking, more grateful to her for her empathy than she could know. "It has been," he replied. "But I also realize how fortunate I am to have this opportunity, even if I never asked for it."

She scooted closer again, until they were only about a foot apart. "That doesn't mean you're not allowed to feel frustrated. My mom always used to say nothing worth having comes easy." She offered a compassionate smile. "I like your tattoo," she murmured, her gaze transforming into something darker, captivated by the arrow on his forehead and how it looped over his head. She didn't know where it led, but she wanted to find out.

He found himself inching yet closer to her. She smelled like vanilla and strawberries, and he almost forgot how to speak. "Th-they're symbolic in my religion," he began. "In Raavism, when a person becomes an adult, they decide whether they want the tattoos to signify—"

She deftly let down her hair from the bun atop her head and his words caught in his throat. He inhaled and groaned. The vanilla and strawberry scent intensified in his nostrils. Suddenly, he couldn't think about anything other than kissing her. He was shamelessly looking at her lips and lowered his head almost involuntarily.

As their lips touched she released a small sigh and, for Aang, time stopped. He briefly registered his hands raising to gently touch her hair—it was so soft—and one of her arms reaching around his head to place her hand on the back of his neck.

Their lips moved together in an ancient dance for what felt like an eternity, and Aang didn't mind if that was the case. He had reached enlightenment. Time had no meaning.

That is, until he noticed her other hand at his belt buckle, dexterously undoing it, then moving to do the same with the button on his trousers. He suddenly realized that things were moving all too quickly, and he would only be with her for the night.

In a feat of Herculean strength, he gently pulled his head back and placed a hand on top of hers at his waistband, stilling her movements. She looked at him questioningly.

"Did I do something wrong?" she inquired.

"No! No. God, no…" he shook his head in disbelief. "The thing is," he started timidly, "I think you're great. But, to be honest, I'm good with just kissing for now." She looked visibly crestfallen at this, pulling back to sit up and put her arms around her middle. "No, it's not like that…ugh…I can be such an idiot." He gently placed both of his hands on each of her arms and looked into her eyes. Holy smokes…those eyes. Focus, airhead. "What I'm saying is…I'd be remiss if I didn't take things slowly with you. You're beautiful, and I want to explore every part of you…all night."

Shocked at his simultaneous display of vulnerability and boldness, she sat silent for a moment before she gave him one of those smiles—the kind he was positive he could become addicted to—and leaned forward to kiss him deeply.