DISCLAIMER: The last five paragraphs of this chapter are what give this story its rating. If you are sensitive to subjects of a sexual nature, proceed with caution, or skip the last part entirely because you won't miss vital plot points if you read ahead.

On the eve of the party for Hope-Catherine, Elianna skulked into Aria's room to swipe a few choice items: her makeup, her hair products, her gown, her heels, and her sequined hand-bag (which had cost Aria seventeen paychecks). It was completely by chance that Cinderella's Fairy Godmother in Reverse happened to download a certain e-mail from Special Agent Kip Winters of the FBI, as Elianna had never mastered the proper procedure for turning the computer on.

Elianna's eyes bulged, as she sadistically tugged at her auburn curls. What might be considered an "idea" was gradually taking shape in the corners of Elianna's mind. She cackled manically at the thought of THE ONE AND ONLY Kip Winters being stood up REVOLTING FILTH like Aria Edwards. Being jilted would definitely serve Kip right for daring to feel anything but disgust for Aria when she, Elianna Edwards, was available for some Smoldering FBI Action. Infuriated, she clicked incessantly on the "Delete' button, musing as the e-mail vanished that all she needed was a little time to come up with the perfect evil plot to put Aria in her place once and for all.

Kip agitatedly shifted his weight from one foot to another. From his position beside the punch bowl, Aria's entrance was erotically visible. He studied her ravenously; from her cascade of raven curls that his fingers itched to become lost in, to the nervous way she worried her lower lip between her teeth, to the creamy skin of her neck, to the radiant, emerald material of her form-fitting gown, to her elegant, silver high heels, Kip committed every detail to memory.

They locked gazes, but she didn't allow those bewitching hazel eyes to linger on his face long enough to arouse suspicion. So she was keeping her true feelings about the situation on the Down Low? Well, two could play that game! All he had to do was refrain from ripping out all of his hair and pissing his slacks from anxiety… for the next four hours. He'd been trained in coping with Breaches of National Security, for God's sake! One woman should present absolutely no problem!

At 11:50, Kip made his way to the gazebo. Aria hadn't spoken to him at all that night, except for her typical "Thank you" for saving her seat to relax in after her Piano Playing Obligations had been fulfilled. He supposed that her façade of calmness stemmed from avoidance, so he considered avoiding delivering the speech he had diligently rehearsed, in favor of moving right into the making-out portion of the evening.

By 12:30, he'd had enough of twiddling his thumbs, gasping for breath, and pounding his chest to jumpstart his heart. Clearly, the avoidance hadn't been about calmness at all, but about passive-aggressively shattering his heart and decimating his dreams. Well, three strikes, and you're out! Kip Winters would follow Aria Edwards to the end of the earth, if he had to, until he was certain that she had gotten the message that HE had ended things between them once and for all. Aria Edwards had not dumped Kip Winters; Kip Winters had dumped Aria Edwards.

At 2 o'clock in the morning, Kip crept through Aria's window, slunk across her window-seat, slithered over her floor, crawled into her bed, and crouched beside her, waiting for her to notice that she wasn't alone. Aria tossed beneath her covers, bumping into Kip's thigh. He couldn't control his haggard inhaling. Groggily, she snapped, "Damn Marcus! You've obviously been working out, but as thrilled as I am for you, get the hell out of my bed! You're welcome to crash here, but you know our rules: Bed, Mine; Sleeping Bag, Your's.

"What if I were Kip?" Kip lamely attempted to impersonate Marcus's sassy drawl.

Aria visibly flinched, then muttered, her indignation muffled by her covers, "Marcus, we've already been through this A BAZILLION times tonight. I don't want to talk about Kip Winters!"

"But I do," Kip growled; removing the blanket she had pulled over her head, Kip towered over her. "I want to talk about Kip Winters, and I'm not going to let you run from me. Not this time."

Eyes as wide as saucers, Aria, trembling violently, met his resolute gaze. In all the time she had spent with him, he had never been so dogmatic about an issue that he refused to consider her opinion. But, now, this conversation with Kip, Aria feared, would prove to be rather one-sided. And somewhere, deep inside of her, lurking beneath the astonishment that Kip had gotten into her bed, as if he owned it, was the twinge of lustful excitement of his display of dominance.

"Why weren't you there," Kip questioned accusingly.

Aria was aghast, not by the inquiry so much as by the THUD of his shoe hitting the floor beside the bed. "I was there," Aria retorted with false bravado. The second shoe THUDDED to the floor beside the first. "You know I was there," her temper flared. "You looked right at me when I first walked in."

"Where were you at Midnight?" Kip's words were muffled by the foreboding ZIP and WHOOSH of his pants being discarded.

"Elianna brought the wrong lipstick by mistake, and she forced me to run home (in six-inch heels no less) to fetch the correct lipstick. She couldn't very well face a member of the Supreme Court wearing "Saturday Night Slut," after all. If it's any consolation, I was there at one."

This pronouncement resulted in the frenzied removal of her Winnie the Pooh pajama top and pajama bottoms. She wasn't certain about what she'd said that had inspired him to creep into her room and handle her so possessively, but she made a mental note to ask Kip in the very near future, so she could say whatever it was at least eighty-five times a day. Boldly, she yanked Kip's overcoat, tuxedo shirt, and bowtie over his head.

All that stood between them now was underwear and excruciating memories of what went down between them five years ago. Smoldering gaze locked on her lustful one, Kip tugged his boxers downward with tantalizing slowness and eased her panties over her hips, down her legs, and off her feet with a single flick of his wrist.

It was exquisite torture; Kip explored every contour of her body with his hands and his mouth, grunting his approval, as she arched helplessly against him. They were pelvis to pelvis, every muscle straining uncontrollably, when Kip sought a final assurance that Aria had been "there."

Wincing in blissful agony as he entered her, she gritted between clenched teeth that she had been there at one… with Marcus.

Marcus! She'd been to the place where he intended to propose (third time's the charm, right?) with Marcus! Despite his immeasurable fury, his mind was unable to convince his body to wrench itself from Aria, until they had both achieved release, collapsing in a sweaty tangle of arms and legs.

Without a word or a glance in her direction, Kip rapidly disentangled himself from Aria, bounded from the bed, tugged on his clothes, and dashed over the window-seat, and out of the window, before Aria had a chance to process that he had taken her virginity.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I debated about certain parts of this chapter for a very long time because it makes Kip seem like a prick, and I didn't want that, but…jealousy of Marcus and Aria's relationship (and his misinterpretation that they are more than "just friends") was bound to come to a head sometime. That time just happened to be during sex. If there is any confusion about the conversation they have before things get racy, the next chapter explains everything. And, not to get all after-school special here, but for those of you feel that the progression of Aria and Kip's relationship wouldn't happen in a Jane Austen novel, so it shouldn't have been included here, you're right. It wouldn't happen in a Jane Austen novel, but kissing doesn't happen in a Jane Austen novel. The characters just explain past actions for two pages and the next chapter begins with, "So they gently broke the news to their families that they were getting married." Whoopdie-Freakin'-Doo! In our society, kissing tends to escalate, and that's my whole speech, which is totally Oscar-worthy.