Justine - This IS an 'R' fic, dammit! LoL. It was actually an NC-17 fic, but I had to take it down due to FF.Net standards. Which means you should probably put your sex-filled story back in the 'R' section ;)

So, after many reviews bitching about only few kisses -- this chapter should start things off nicely, actually. Besides, you thought that scene in the beginning with Dana in Harry's room after her shower was PG-13? I was all about the watchin', and the touchin' - unfortunately about a little cryin' too. Still though, not PG. :)

Anyway, thanks to EVERYONE who reviewed! And I have another D/H fic posted now so check it out. Also, as long as we're doing shout-outs - DANA_POOLE_RULES! Where are you!? You wrote the best H/D and now the stories are lonely!

**

It's quiet in the car on the way back from the airport and I look at the window to watch the passing scenery.

I want to visit my mother. But I won't, she wouldn't want me there and I'm not going to go against her wishes. Harry's one of the luckiest people I know.

"So what do you want to do for your birthday?" he asks me. I loll my head to the side and smile.

"I want to go to work, I need the money."

He's quiet and looking straight ahead, "What else do you want to do?"

I want to ask him whether he was thinking of how bad the job was or picturing me stripping for him. Yeah. Right . . . It's just that kiss between us that he initiated - the one I choose to forget - keeps popping up to put bad thoughts in my head. He's glancing at me so I better say something.

"I want to get my picture taken."

"Why?"

"I want birthday pictures, HAPPY birthday pictures."

"Sounds simple."

"Then you haven't been paying attention," I snort. I want to be happy for my birthday, even if it's a front, the fake kind of happy. Maybe a couple of years from now I'll look at the picture and think, wow, that must have been a great day . . . then I'll remember . . . maybe pictures aren't the best thing. "Where are you going?"

"To get a camera," he answers as he pulls into the parking lot of a drug store and gets out. "Do you need anything?"

"Liquor?"

"Something else?" he asks with an arched eyebrow.

"What's with the twenty questions? It's not my birthday if I have to keep changing my answers," I grin.

He just shakes his head and goes inside.

**

The greeting card isle is filled with a cornucopia of sappiness. I wonder if they make a card that says something like 'I hate you, Bastard. Why did you have to be born?' I can think of a few people to give that one to.

I don't find one that seems right for Dana; everything seems prepackaged and predictable. No, nothing would go well with her. I was never one of those people that found the perfect emotion put in print for whomever I was shopping for.

I choose a camera, some disposable thing the clerk hands to me with a dull expression that tells me he's been having an exciting weekend, the kind that mornings don't agree with. When I pay and head out I take the camera out, unwrapping it. I push the little winding thing and I lift the camera to my eye and push the button, she isn't smiling, but she's definitely amused, her head tilted to the side.

"Smile. It's your birthday." She gives me a fake offering and I take another picture. She's damn photogenic.

**

"Okay, this one," I announce. Birthday pictures aren't such a bad idea.

We're on our second camera.

It was after the third red light when Harry turned and took the third picture of me sitting at a red light that I confiscated the camera by snapping it from his hands and he reminded me this was MY birthday thing-to- do. And it was. So at the next red light I snapped a picture of him. Who'd have thought he wasn't opposed to crossing his eyes for a camera?

We've been driving around for a while, stopping occasionally to take pictures of each other. I'm going to keep the one of Harry standing precariously next to a statue of a man on a horse and staring in the same direction - squinting into the sun. I don't know why, it's just a keeper.

It's led to me pointing at a tree in a park I'm going to have my picture taken on. Why? It's my birthday.

"Help." I order and Harry puts down the camera to brace his hands for me to climb up onto a thick branch. My cut hardly burns at all anymore, it must be the good vibes, it doesn't even hurt. I try to situate myself on the scratchy surface and manage to lay back slightly, a hand gripping the wood beside me, my position forcing one foot against the tree and my other leg bent at the knee. All in all it's not a bad pose. I smile and he's already poised to take the picture. He snaps it and moves closer.

"Too good to just take one," he tells me and takes another. It feels good, my birthday feels very good, and even though I could probably get down myself I carefully turn until I'm sitting above him, my calves positioned in front of him. He snaps another picture and I'm smiling again.

"Help?" This time I ask and it could be considered flirtatious. I even consider it that.

He drops the camera onto the grass and holds his hands up; I scoot to the edge and slowly slide until his fingers curl around my hips. I put my hands on his shoulders and he moves to wrap his arms around me as I slide down his body. Can we get some mood music here? Who said classic romantic moments don't happen in real life? Well, I did. But I was wrong, I guess.

**

She's inches away and I think, if I just moved forward a little bit I could get her to kiss me. But I don't move forward, she does and she kisses me without any help, her mouth hot against mine as I feel her fingers in my hair.

I don't think she planned on it being this . . . much. So much that it makes me want to push her against the tree and wrap her legs around my waist . . .

I have to grab her hip tightly so I don't lose control and do it, but she doesn't seem like she'd mind if I did.

**

His mouth is amazing, and I'm learning that fact over and over again . . . the feeling of kissing him is so powerful that the fact we're in the middle of some park with heat rushing between my thighs, and I think I'm moaning. This is indecent, and even with my mother's words and accusations of my moral standing echoing in my head I can't stop myself . . . I don't care when my back hits the tree.

**

When I feel the rough wood against my burned hand, I know I've gone too far, but it doesn't hurt enough to stop. Then again I'm not going to have sex in a park in broad daylight, so when my mouth pulls away to go to her throat I don't try to pull back, just press her closer.

"Harry," she moans . she's MOANING in my ear. Fuck.

**

He pulls away and looks at me. But I don't know why he stopped.

"What?" I blink. And then blink one more time.

We're in a park. Outside.

Fuck.

"Oh."

"Yeah," he agrees.

"So . . ." I start, clearing my throat. "Lunch?"

". . . Yeah."

**

I don't move my head as I lean over the plate, but my eyes look up to stare at Dana across the table. We walked back to the car in silence and came here in silence; the only sound was the tapping of my finger on the camera I picked up from the ground. Why did we come here? Because if we went home . . . We'd do something we'd regretted. Last night was our first - well, second kiss - and we already were practically dry humping against a tree. It was too fast.

I take a drink of water, more to do SOMETHING than to just sit there in this silence. I think she picks up on it because she keeps glancing at the glass and me. When the waiter comes we order and resume just . . . sitting there. Dana attempts to rearrange the flatware before just sighing in disgust and slamming down a fork.

"This is absurd! I'm not going to just sit here anymore and deny everything that's happening between us, I'm not going back to that!"

Surprisingly, everyone around us doesn't care about our loud conversation and, at this point, I wouldn't care if they did. I nod and go to pick up my water, but she puts a hand over mine.

"We're adults, Harry. We need to talk about it."

"So let's talk," I agree.

And we sit there quietly.

**

The lemon chicken comes and I still can't think of anything to start the conversation off with. Finally, when he takes a drink of his water I grab his wrist and put it back down.

"I was thinking, that doesn't mean I gave up and you can start ignoring everything again."

" . . . I was thirsty."

"Oh." That's embarrassing, but I smile at it because it breaks the unsure feeling and I take a drink myself.

"So what do we do, Harry?"

"About us?" he asks simply as he takes a bite of his steak. He says it so nonchalant, I haven't even wanted to think of the term 'us', I thought he'd go running for the hills and now I'm sitting here considering it.

"I-I guess you can put it like that."

"I could," he affirms with a look of half confusion/half obviousness.

"Yeah, you could . . ." I clear my throat. "So, about us . . . to take an overused phrase - that is perfect for this situation - we are two consenting adults."

"Right."

"And, obviously, we are both attracted to each other."

"I'd say."

Dammit. "How can you be so nonchalant about this?!"

"I'm not being nonchalant, I'm being decisive. I want this, I just want to know if you do."

"If I said no could we still live together? Be friends?" He doesn't say anything and I know the answer. "Me neither."

I don't know another way out, I can't be around him and not want to be with him, to think of him in a romantic way, and the kicker is I can't NOT be around him. Maybe I'm painted into a corner but it seems like a nice place to be stuck.

I take a deep breath and look at him.

"Harry. I know what I want for my birthday."

**

She wants me for her birthday. That said, from Dana's mouth, is the MOST arousing thing I've ever encountered. As soon as she is half way through with the words I was doubtful I'd be able to get up very quickly. But I sure as hell will try.

"Dana, what are you saying? Exactly."

She has that little smile on her face and puts her and on mine. "Let's just go, Harry."

**

I get up and start towards the door and hear him behind me by the time I reach the entrance.

"I had to pay," he whispers in explanation and puts a warm hand on the small of my back. The heat floods through my body from that one touch. I can't believe this is really happening. But I'm not going to deny myself anymore of something that's there and real and happening. With all the horrible things that have happened to me, I'm not going to let this slip by.

Before I know it we're in the car on the way to the apartment and neither of us makes a move to start anything. And the lull is not at all void of sexual fire that crackles between us, but it does make my muddled thoughts form.

Is this a relationship? He said 'us'; does he want a couple situation? Do I? I want him and that's all I know all I can think of. Long ago this was my dream, to be with him, to have him bring up the idea of him and I together. But now . . . Am I just doing this to reach out to him because I'm in pain? And when the hell did I start tuning into the mentality of a talk show psychiatrist?

I sigh, shifting a bit and catching his attention. It makes me anxious and the movement, paired with the images of him going through my head, causes heat to burst in my veins and center on my core. I squeeze my eyes shut, seeing him on top of me before I snap them open.

The apartment comes into view and Harry finds a parking space in front. We still haven't said a thing and all too soon he's waiting for me as I go around the car and meet him. Has he done this before? Is this just an arrangement to have sex? Am I like someone he brought home once from a bar or a party? Am I like Lauren Davis when he gets horny?

He takes my hand, casually, like he was just waiting for me, keys on one side, me on the other. There's no preemption in his action, it's easy, and it makes me more confused. What are we going to do? What is it going to mean?

We head to the elevator and, as we wait, I look at him from the corner of my eye. Harry Senate.

He's a man; I'm going to be with a man

I'm not a virgin, but on some level maybe I am. It's been years, I was fifteen, and so was Louis Mona, the boy in my Civics class. I was stupid then, it was just experimentation, really. After three or four times, we were finished with the whole thing. I may not be a virgin by medical terms, but Louis wasn't exactly a sexual dynamo, he wasn't even a man.

The door dings and we enter the elevator. We stand in silence again. And just when I'm wondering if I'm really going to do this Harry looks at me. And I look at him. And slowly, with his eyes falling to my mouth he leans down to kiss me.

**

By the time the sound indicating we made it to our floor rings, my tongue is swiping against hers inside of her mouth and she's moaning again as she grabs at my shirt. I feel her soft hair around my hand and feel her fingers grabbing the bottom of my shirt, then sliding under to touch my stomach, making me jump and wondering if she can feel my erection against her just then.

Finally I have to pull away from her and we're both gasping as I pull her out of the doors, grabbing the frame before they try to close. I walk out with her beside me and I'm too distracted, not stalling until I get a couple of doors away from mine and see her . . .

"Lauren?"

**