C L A S H . O F . W I L L S

a chaptered story by insensato

disclaimer: teen titans will never be mine for the taking

tecna: the current apt raven's living in is her third one. she moved to the second one after her parents died with her brother and then they moved to a better one.

falke-ness: yeah brian seems ungrateful but you'll see

forest wanderer: keep on guessing hehe

alena-chan: thanks a lot... i'm in love with your stories

Sorry for the lack of update, I was busy lately so to compensate I wrote more. The chapter's really long and I was thinking of cutting it into two, but you guys were looking forward to the fundraiser and I decided to have some delicious scenes before that one. Note, this chapter contains a little limey content... don't say I didn't already warn you.. it's not rated M for nothing.

I also tried to get into a little scene with Rachel working.. so excuse me if I sound disrespectful in any way, I mean no offense. Like I said, I have no experience in writing these kinds of stories, I actually tried reading a detective story but it just doesn't compare to the romance novels! Hehehe

Well enjoy this next installment!

Rachel stared into the depths of her herbal tea whilst stirring occasionally with a spoon. She had just finished examining yet another body—the word "corpse" was too disrespectful sounding—and was on break before observing the other one. Once again the serial killer had struck, this time claiming a teenaged couple on Horizon Point, a popular make-out place for Gotham's youth.

She sighed as she thought of the distraught parents and their hysterical actions when they had received the call notifying them their children were dead. Victims of the Jump City Clubber, as the newspapers had taken to calling the murderer. It was hard to disassociate herself from the fact that she was poking and prodding the bodies of people who were almost Brian's age. It was so easy to superimpose his face on that of the sixteen-year-old boy's, and she had had to stop and take several deep breaths before continuing. Not that she found anything different, the murderer had used the same weapon on his seventh and eighth victims. She guessed it was a crowbar.

After another sip of the steaming liquid, she put the lid back on and went to wash her hands before pulling on a new pair of gloves. The other technician had already carted away Alan Greene's body to the morgue. She'd be examining the girl's cadaver now. Pulling over a cart with a new set of sterilized tools, Rachel pulled the surgical mask back over her mouth and nose.

"You workin' on Vera Rancourt's body?" Damaris Seaward asked, pushing into the back of the room the empty gurney. She was about forty, slightly plump, and had been working at the station as its sole investigator for nearly twenty years. Though she was amiable most of the time, sometimes she was in a bad mood and that was when Rachel was careful to steer clear of her. Of course Damaris liked to order her around too, now that she had a trainee to do so.

Rachel frowned distastefully at how tactless her supervisor sounded. "I was just about to start actually."

The middle-aged brunette nodded. "Ya want me to help?"

"If you want."

"Rachel, it's a yes 'uh no."

"It's up to you," Rachel responded as she examined the head, her gloved fingers flying over the surface. She lifted up the stiff dirty-blonde strands of hair, streaked with dried blood, andheld them back with a hair clip wherethey wouldn't interfere. She then leaned forward, looking at the wound.

"Ouch," Damaris commented, peering over her shoulder. "Hit hard enough to break bits of the skull. He never did none of that before." With a tweezer, she carefully picked out pieces of bone, placing them into a small metal bowl.

"Fractured left temporal bone."

"No matter of any sort."

"Two broken digits on left hand, three on right. Victim showed signs of struggle."

"Probably attempted to defend herself against the onslaught. It'd account for the broken fingers."

"Long but shallow gash on right calf, looks to be post-humous."

"Several contusions on the left forearm and shoulder."

They worked quietly. When they were done, they gently placed the body into a new body bag and onto a gurney. They then began to clean the work area, spraying disinfectant all over the examination table. Damaris dumped all the instruments into a bucket labeled "To be sterilized" while Rachel wiped down the table. Afterwards, they removed and threw away their surgical gloves and masks. Then they shrugged out of their lab coats and placed them into the "Dirty" bin.

"I'll take her outta here," Damaris offered, knowing her trainee's dislike of the morgue, and was gone without another word.

Rachel grimaced. Once again she was left to writing the report and of course, in hand. How nice it was to be a low-level trainee, doing all the grunt work. Then again, she was grateful that the older woman was the one who carted away the bodies. She had been in the morgue several times, each time only because it was necessary. She hated the sensation of being in that cold, sterile room with the low hum of the refrigeration unit in the background.

She went over to the desk where her tea patiently remained and pulled out the chair. Grumbling to herself, she uncapped a pen and began filling out the basic information.

Two hours later, she was finally done, after having rewritten it. Not only did her supervisors prefer the reports handwritten, but also free of white-out or cross-outs. That basically meant that she either had to write very slowly to ensure no mistakes, write a first draft first or write normally and risk having to rewrite the whole thing. The old report lay in shreds in the plastic bin, confidentiality purposes and all dictated that she couldn't recycle a discarded report. It had to be shredded first.

Rachel placed the report into a plastic file and then put it into the "Out" box. She glanced at the clock and sighed. It was only half past one.

Venturing out into the main station, she passed by many colleagues without a word or nod. In turn, they did not acknowledge her either. She was called the ice queen for a reason. That suited her fine though, she never really did like conversation or people much.

"Hey there," a voice called out and she mentally groaned. Not him again.

Purposely ignoring him, she strode towards the lounge to retrieve her cellphone. She figured she might as well catch up with Tara and Victor since she was done and had nothing to do for several more hours.

"Aww Rachel, don't tell me my brilliance now deafened you—"

She whirled towards him and fixed Richard with a dirty look. "What do you want?"

"Just on my way out for coffee, would you like to go get some with—"

"Continue on your way out please," Rachel retorted and walked right past him before turning down the hall to the closet and employee lounge. Richard grinned after her, taking long loping strides alongside her. "Coffee's not down here, coffee's out the door," she reminded.

"Decided I'm not thirsty after all."

Rachel exhaled slowly. Checking to see that no one was around, she then grabbed a fistful of his well-ironed blue shirt and shoved him against the wall. She was surprised at her own strength, but didn't let it show. "Are you stupid?" She hissed.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, rather enjoying this position. She was pressed bodily against him, her breasts jutting into his chest.

"Don't play stupid with me."

Richard shrugged. "I can't enjoy your company?"

She rolled her eyes. "Riiight, like you've ever been in my company."

"Where am I now then?"

"On your way to hell," she snarled.

Richard grinned. "Oh really?" He leaned forward and smashed his lips against hers. "Nah, I don't think I'm in hell—"

"Spare me the corny joke," she seethed. "How dare you kiss me, you pompous, ugly, stupid, wretched—"

He shut her up with another kiss, and took advantage of her momentary shock to switch positions so now that it was her against the wall. She groaned into the kiss, and he couldn't help but press himself against her more as he deepened the kiss. She felt so warm and inviting and comfortable. It took all the self control to not just pick her up, bring her into the empty storage closet and take her in the darkness.

Rachel finally was able to push him off. "What was that for!"

"Couldn't help it. You see, I had to prove that your statement regarding my going to hell was wrong and so..." He winked at her.

Son of a bitch. "Asshole," she glowered, wiping at her lips.

"Don't tell me you didn't like it."

"I didn't like it, I hated it."

"Yeah, say it to my face then."

Rachel smirked. "Gladly." She tiptoed up, and shouted, "I HATED IT!" He jumped back in shock and she had to laugh. "Idiot. Don't you ever do that again."

"Mm but you can't resist me," he said cockily. He loved how feisty she was, she sure could hold her own.

She opened her mouth, but the opening strains of a cello solo began to play. She nearly jumped in surprise before realizing it was her own cellphone. Hadn't she set it to vibrate...? Whatever. Grateful for the interruption, she hurried into the lounge and unlocked her locker. Hastily she flipped her phone open.

"Hello, this is Rachel speaking," she breathed. "Hello Tara—what? I'm sorry, but I can't, no, I'm at work right now and I can't just up and leave—how about after work? I know, but maybe like in a few hours? Oh... What! Are you serious? ...ugh fine, fine, I'm on my way..." Groaning, she stuck her phone into her pocket and then strode past Richard.

"What was that about?"

"It's none of your business."

He laughed. "Come on now, you know I won't leave you alone until you tell me."

Rachel growled but decided to ignore him. He'd leave her alone soon enough. When she got to Andrew's office, she knocked on the open door and stepped inside. "Good afternoon Andrew."

The chief's tense face broke into a smile when he looked up. "Hello Rachel, what can I do for you?"

"Uh, you remember how I asked to take the afternoon off for personal reasons right..." She asked slowly, hoping he wouldn't throw a fit. Not that he was the type to anyway.

Andrew chuckled as he organized some folders. " I just got your report, good work as usual. Go along kiddo!"

"Thanks a lot!" She answered gratefully as she ran back to the lounge to get her jacket and bag. She nearly collided into Richard, who had been hovering by the entrance. "You bumbling fool! Can't you watch where you're going?"

"Ah but I wasn't the one in a mad dash out," he pointed out.

Rachel threw him a dirty look. "Whatever." She retrieved her things and then, for good measure, punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow, what was that for?"

"For being a prick," she snapped as she walked outside to where Tara Markov-Logan's car idled. " Tara, you know you're not supposed to stand in front of the station!" She scolded. "What if there was an emergency?"

The blonde woman rolled her eyes. "Please Rae, I know I'm not supposed to do a lot of things. Hop on in! We've got an hour's ride ahead of us!"

"What? Why?"

"You don't think we'd be able to find a decent dress for you here in Jump City now do you..." Tara asked, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. "Hey, who's the cutie smirking?"

"I thought I was borrowing a dress—huh, what cutie? Tara laughed as she pointed towards Richard. Rachel's face instantly darkened. "Oh him? He's Detective Richard Grayson, a complete asshole. He most certainly is not cute! He's just an arrogant, stupid, piggish little idiot."

Tara raised a well defined eyebrow. "Riiight. Tally ho Richie-poo! Rachel sends her love to you" She yelled out as she pulled into traffic. "Hey, don't hit me! We haven't seen each other for two years, and first thing you do is smack me on the arm."

The purple-haired woman snorted. "You certainly haven't changed too much."

"Still the same icy temper," Tara retorted. "Oh it'll be so fun to try on dresses!"

"Speaking of which, why can't I borrow one of yours?"

"We're not the same size."

"Yes we are—"

"Nuh uh. You're two inches shorter than me."

"So what? I can just wear a pair of higher heels."

"Nope. Besides I'm driving so I get to choose," Tara giggled. "Come on Rae, this is girl bonding. Remember?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Keep your eyes on the road Tara. I'd like to not become another statistic. You know there were 539 traffic-related casualties in Jump City last year, and roughly ten percent of them resulted in death or amputations?"

"Morbid as usual. Thanks for the information by the way. You just made my day Rae."

"Glad to hear."

Tara grinned evilly to herself as she put on the finishing touches to her make-up. She pursed her lips and dabbed away at the extra lipstick. "You done yet Rae?" She called out towards the bathroom.

Rachel stepped out from the bathroom. She was wearing a classic strapless dress in violet, and the silky material clung snugly to her curvaceous figure. The damn thing had cost well over $300 and her idiot of a friend had just waved it off as an overdue gift as casually as the beaming associate had swiped Tara's credit card."I still can't believe you Tara." Forcing me into buying some revealing dress and wearing three inch heels.. so great to know that this is what reunited best friends are for.

"Oh c'mon Rae, that dress looks fabulous on you. It really brings out the color of your eyes."

"Why do you get to wear a black dress?"

"I don't feel like wearing color tonight."

"That's bullshit!"

"You know it," Tara retorted. "Now come here so I can do your make-up."

"If I want to look like a high-class hooker I'll go to the stripclub."

The blonde snorted. "That doesn't make sense. Besides, you're offending me by suggesting I'd cake your face with make-up. You know I would never do that. What do you think this is, a beauty counter at the department store?"

"Oh all right." Rachel grumbled as she went over unwillingly to the chair Tara gestured to. Tara began applying light touches of makeup, a little color here and there. Within minutes, she was done, and Rachel glanced into the mirror. She couldn't help but let out a little gasp of surprise at how.. beautiful she looked. Tara, true to her word, had kept the make-up simple.

"Jewelry time!" Tara cheered, pulling Rachel out of her brief reverie, and dug out a simple silver chain with an amethyst stone in the center. She pulled out a matching pair of amethyst earrings. "Put those on," she ordered as she put on a diamond pendant and drop earrings on herself. "And be careful to not scratch your nail polish off."

"Yes mother," Rachel said sarcastically, wondering about how coincidental it seemed that the blonde would own amethyst pieces when she was a self-professed lover of diamonds, sapphires and emeralds. "You know, you really don't have to do this--"

"Nonsense! Oh my god, it's like ten to seven and we still haven't put on our shoes and where's Gar?"

"Right here, at your service," the aforementioned man announced, as though he had been summoned. He was a lanky person, a little on the thin side, but he had an appetite rivaling that of a tiger. His coffee-colored hair had been slicked back with a little gel, and he wore a well-tailored gray suit with a green tie. "Hellooooo Rachel! Nice to see you again!"

"Shut up while you're still ahead," she snapped as she slid into those menacing stilettos. "Tara, these heels look like they'd snap off any second. Why pay $500 for these Man-oh-low Blan-ix?" She stumbled over the unfamiliar name.

"Ma-no-lo Blah-niks actually," Tara sang out as she stood up confidently. "How do I look Gar?"

"Absolutely dashing!" He grinned. "Are the ladies ready?"

"Are you driving?" Rachel asked as she got up unsteadily. Already her shoes were killing her, and she hadn't even been standing for a minute

"Psh of course not, my friend's picking us up. You might have heard of him, he's, oof! Tara, what was that for?" Garfield complained, rubbing his side. She glared at him and he quieted. " Never mind."

Rachel nodded slowly. Sure thing Gar. Just make sure you're not trying to hook me up with anyone, 'cause if you are, I hope you've written a will already. Or if I'm feeling nice, you just won't be able to have children. And you know how devastated Tara will be. " Okay then. So when will this 'friend' of yours be coming by?"

"Any minute now… in fact that should be him!" The brown-haired man declared when he saw a limousine slow to a stop in front of their apartment complex. "You ladies ready?"

"Just lemme grab a shrug," Tara said, "Rae, you want one as well?"

"No, I'm fine," Rachel answered as she walked out the door slowly behind the couple. With every step she took, she could have sworn she was making minute cracks in the wooden floor. She would have to be careful at the fundraising gala, if she didn't want to risk lawsuits for impaling feet in her path.

They took the elevator down to the lobby, and the doorman smiled as he opened the door for them. "Have a good night," he said pleasantly and they all thanked him.

Outside, it was already somewhat dark and the white limousine provided a startling contrast against the inky sky. The waiting chauffeur opened the door and Rachel climbed in, followed by Tara and Garfield.

The lights switched on and Rachel let out a horrified shriek when she saw who else was in the limousine. "What the fuck is this?" She blurted out, surprised by this turn of events.

Tara and Gar exchanged glances on the sly. "Didn't you know, Rae? Wayne Industries is the one hosting this fundraiser."

The midnight-haired woman sputtered, "But that doesn't explain what… what he's doing here!"

Richard grinned. "It's nice seeing you again, dear. Mind if I explain?" He asked rhetorically to Tara and Gar, who had smiles so wide that they went from ear to ear. "I happen to be Bruce Wayne's adopted son. As such, it's important that my presence be seen at such events, not that I myself don't support the causes."

"Forget this. Tara, Gar, sorry, but I'm leaving."

"No way!" Garfield protested. "You paid for your seat too!"

"I don't care. I refuse to be anywhere near that stupid prick," Rachel snapped, her arms folded. "It's either him or me."

Tara groaned. "Rachel, what do you have against Richard? He's a really nice down-to-earth guy."

"I have my own reasons and I don't need to share them," she huffed. "Of all the things to do! Lying to me, plotting this—"

"This isn't a conspiracy against you Rae," Tara said, trying to calm down the ruffled woman. "Honestly. Gar got to know Richard when he was trying to get a gig, and Richard helped him out a lot. He's a great friend, and you'd love him if you got to know him too."

Rachel let out a derisive, very unladylike snort. "Whatever. Fine. I'll stay. But I absolutely refuse to talk to him."

"I'll take that," Richard said with a wink and was rewarded with a punch to the shoulder. "Damn, you can punch."

"Wanna see if I can kick just as well?" She threatened.

"No that's alright. But you know what I would like to see? I'd like to see—oof!"

Rachel smirked pleasantly and Gar stared at her. "Rachel, did you just do what I think you just did!" He asked, horrified.

"You mean this?" She asked innocently and proceeded to jab the prick in the ribs again. She felt just a teensy bit bad but laid away the guilt. Served that arrogant dick right.

Richard glowered at her. "You're awfully perky tonight. Did Tara lace your lunch with drugs or something?"

Tara smacked him with her purse. "Don't insult me Richie."

"Don't call me that again... that's such a horrible nickname," Richard grumbled as he rubbed at his sore spot. Rachel sure could jab hard. Very hard.

Soon enough, but not quickly enough for Rachel, the limo pulled to a stop in front of Le Cordon Bleu, the restaurant hosting the fundraiser.

They stepped out and entered the restaurant. Richard spoke briefly with a maitre'd and within seconds, they were ensconced in a very lavish looking ballroom. There were already many people, dressed about in their finest, milling about and making small talk. These $1000 a head fundraisers didn't exist solely to benefit a certain cause, but to also allow for networking among the societal elites.

As Rachel took in her luxuriant surroundings, a waiter politely offered her a flute of champagne. Determined to enjoy the night that had cost Tara and herself so much, Rachel accepted and took the requisite sip before moving on. Already she wanted to sit down in the corner somewhere and hide. She was never one for these events. She always felt so out of her skin, like she didn't belong period. It was like being a fish out of water, except the fish flapping to death would've looked a hell lot more composed than her. Part of her wanted to make a run for it and call it a night.

Tara and Gar were descending on people like a tag-team swarm of locusts, Rachel noted. It was rather frightening how easily they could disarm icy exteriors. She saw Prince Pompous talking with some tall redhaired woman in a clingy green number. She's probably a supermodel or someone like that. Well her hair should more than match the size of his ego.

"Hey beautiful. Why are you all by yourself?"

Rachel looked up hastily into the clear green eyes of a copper-haired man. He was similar in build and height to that moron, and she bet she wouldn't be able to tell the two apart from the back if they had the same hair. It was a scary thought. "Number one, I'm not beautiful. And number two, I'm not all by myself.

The man raised an eyebrow. "That so? Well then, if you don't mind me asking, where's your companion?"

"Uhm... oh you must mean my real good friend of course!"

He nodded slowly, playing along. "Mmhm. So where is he or she?"

"She," Rachel prompted. "Leemi A. Lone."

"What a charming name. When will she return? I'd love to meet her. Name's Roy Harper by the way." He offered a hand out but she didn't take it. "Courtesy dictates you should respond with your own name," he chuckled.

Rachel scowled. "Piss off."

"Yow, declaw yourself."

She rolled her eyes. "Please. Go mingle with the other mindless idiots milling about like headless chickens. I'd like to be able to breathe in a clean environment free of excessive odors."

"You lost me."

"Glad to know. You can get back on the road by doing a one-eighty."

"Awfully hostile, aren't we?" He smirked.

"You know, you remind me of a guy I know."

Roy smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Believe me, if you knew who he was, you wouldn't." She downed the last of the wine and within seconds, a waiter whisked away the empty glass and placed a new one by her side. "He happens to be an insufferable, imperious, ignorant, infuriating little idiot."

"I'm horrified!" A new voice joined in and she groaned instantly, recognizing who it belonged to. "Hey there Harper, what's up?"

Roy grinned and they exchanged a strange series of handshakes before spinning on their left heel and slapping palms. It must have been some secret boyhood handshake. "I'm great, Rich. What about you?"

She stared at the both of them, her lips forming a small "o". "You know each other!" Her tone was accusing.

"But of course," the red-haired man explained with a sheepish grin. "Knew each other since we were in diapers. Speaking of which, he still wears one."

Richard chortled. "I'd rather be incontinent than incompetent!"

"Aw that was cold man," Roy answered before returning his attention to Rachel. "So how do you know Rich? And what is your name?"

"He's a dickhead. I would prefer to not know him," she replied quickly. "As for my name, I'm sure your very good friend would be more than happy to oblige to give it to you."

Roy chuckled and was about to make another comment when the red-haired woman Richard had been speaking to mentioned him over. "See you guys later at the table. Kori's calling."

"We're sitting at the same table?" Rachel asked, horrified. Richard's grin told her the answer she didn't want to hear. With a groan, she gulped down the wine. She could feel the alcohol beginning to get to her. Didn't the restaurant have central air conditioning? It was getting uncomfortably hot and she wanted to peel herself out of her own skin. Fanning herself with a hand, she glanced around. "When's dinner being served?"

Richard glanced at his watch, a subdued affair in platinum. "Very soon I think. Are you okay?" He asked concernedly. Her face had taken on a flushed complexion and her eyes seemed glassy.

"Of course I am," she snapped. Grabbing the edge of the table, she made to get up and almost fell backwards were it not for his incredibly quick reflexes. "Let go of me you asshole!"

"Formal English please," he countered and was surprised when the woman in his arms did not respond right off. "Rachel, are you ok?" He glanced at the nearly empty glass of wine. Oh no. "Rachel... how much did you drink?"

She weakly stared up at him and held up seven fingers. "I dunno... one? Two? Not a lot... I'm not the type to drink."

He swore to himself. Of all the things to happen—she had to go and drink herself to a hangover. Didn't she know that the strongest wines were always served at such events? "Rachel. You supposedly drank seven glasses. Seven. According to your fingers anyway, which I'm more liable to believe right now."

"No, I only had two," she mumbled listlessly. She perked up when a waiter neared. "Hey mister! Two for the kid and me!"

Richard stared at her in shock as she took the full glasses and downed each in a matter of seconds. "Christ, Rachel!" He snatched away the empty glasses and returned them to the bemused-looking waiter. "I'm taking you home right now," he said seriously.

"Nooooo... I didn't even get to eat anything yet... can't we stay another hour? Pleaseee?"

"No, I'll get something for you on the way."

Rachel stood as tall as her five feet two inches plus three from her stilettos would allow. She poked him sharply in the chest. "You are not my momma! My momma's dead!" She shrieked and then fell against him in a dead faint.

People stared at the two in shock and Richard had to do some quick-thinking to salvage both their reputations. "Nothing to see hear folks, just a little practice for her audition tomorrow. Real good actress isn't she? She even pretended to faint!" He laughed and stopped almost immediately, feeling quite foolish. However the spectators had seemed to accept his words and gone back to their fraternizing. Thank god they were all self-absorbed and easily distracted. He sighed as he scooped the limp woman into his arms and left through a back entrance.

She giggled again, tottering unsteadily on her feet. Richard had already helped her out of her three-inch shoes in the elevator, he didn't want to risk her breaking an ankle in her drunken state. He made to help her walk but she swatted his hand away playfully.

"Richard?"

"Yeah Rae?" He asked. He didn't know why he said that instead of her name, it had just slipped but strangely, it felt comfortable.

"I'm thirsty," she drawled, leaning against him.

"I know, but first let's try to walk to your apartment. Which one is yours?"

Rachel laughed. "Uhmm... thirteeeeeeeeeeeeeen... gee."

"Thirteen-gee?"

"Beats me! Hehehe I rhymed, I'm a poet and you know it!"

Richard groaned silently to himself as he half-carried, half-dragged the young woman down the corridor. Of all the days to be gentlemanly, though he would never have let her gone home alone, but to help her into the somewhat rundown apartment complex and into the elevator and up the floors to her apartment. The entire time, she had been giggling as if she was the only one being told a joke. While surprising at first—though her laughter was aurally pleasing—it soon became rather tiring. "Yes Rae, you're a poet." Finally he was able to bring themselves to the front door. "Where are your keys?"

"In my bag," she slurred, leaning heavily against the door. Her eyes were somewhat dulled, and her face had begun to develop a wan complexion. "Riiiight pocket."

He found her keys and tried the first key. The door swung open and Rachel nearly fell in through the threshold had it not been for his quick reflexes.

"Be careful," he scolded gently as he helped her inside into the dark hallway. Groping for the light switch, he nearly recoiled when he came face-to-face with her. She had a crooked smile on her face. "Want some water?"

Rachel stared hungrily at him. "Not anymore." She licked her lips in anticipation.

He sighed as he led her towards the refrigerator. She sat down on a folding chair by the small dining table, her hair falling loosely round her shoulders. While getting her a glass of water, Richard looked around his surroundings. It was almost as he imagined, sparsely decorated with spartan furniture. There were small personal effects scattered around the flat, little attempts to personify the space, such as photographs and books and other knick-knacks.

"Here's your water Rae."

"Thanks," she mumbled and took a sip.

Richard went towards a picture and felt a wave of jealousy wash over him when he saw a young man's face in a picture with her. At first he was disappointed, then realized that they both shared the same vibrant violet eyes and had similar facial features. He surmised that they were siblings, she probably the elder. He turned around and this time, bumped into her.

"Richard?"

"Yes?"

She stared up at him. "Will you stay with me tonight? I'm... lonely."

His heart sang when he heard those words. She wanted him to stay with her, to watch over her, to protect her... she trusted him... It was an amazing feeling, not something he had ever felt before. This little tender pang... but then his mind sneered. What on earth made him think that she actually trusted him... Look at the situation. She was completely drunk and it was the alcohol that was loosening her lips and making her say things she would never have said. Richard wondered what to do. It wouldn't be right to leave her alone in such a state... He'd stay, but only to make sure she'd be okay, then he'd leave. "Alright Rae."

"Thank you so much! No one's ever done that for me before!" She leaped at him, throwing him into as fierce a hug as a drunk could do.

Richard was aware of how pressed against him she was. She seemed to fit snugly against him, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Her breasts were crushed against his rumpled shirt, and her legs sandwiched between his. It was wholly an arousing situation, and one that he should not be in. Should NOT. "Rae..."

"What?" She asked innocently, her hands splayed across his firm chest. She smiled, as she began to run her hands all over. She liked how he felt, so solid and emanating such strength. She also liked how he smelled, there was this slightly musky scent to him, one that drove her crazy. She wanted nothing more than to slide a little tongue across his naked chest. She imagined it smooth and hairless, and rippling with muscle. Exploring, her fingers chanced upon a little nub and her fingers began to circle around it. Richard let out a little yelp and she continued at a slightly faster pace. "Do you like this?"

He groaned. "Uhh..." His body felt like it was on fire and his member had begun its upward ascent, before projecting out ninety degrees, causing an unsightly tent. It brushed up against her thigh, and it took all of his willpower to not take her right then and there. "Rae, Rachel... stop," he said hoarsely. "You don't know what you're doing to me."

"What if I don't want to?" Her thick long lashes fluttered coquettishly. "Don't you want me?"

"This isn't right," he grunted at last. "I won't take advantage of you in the state you're in."

"But I'm not in any state," she responded plaintively. "I want you. And I'm sure you want me," she added huskily as a hand slipped down to his erect member. She brushed her fingers lightly over it and grinned at his little moan. "See? Dick, don't lie to me. Little Dickie wants me."

"Rachel..."

"Please stay with me." She pleaded, her hands once again at his chest, though now they clutched at his collar. Her eyes looked desperately into his. "Don't leave me alone."

Richard bit his lip and acted. To hell with propriety. "I won't." He swept her up into her arms and led her to her bedroom.

I've never had a lot of wine, so I dunno how potent it is in getting people drunk easily. I know the hard stuff does but vodka and stuff seem so unclassy at fundraisers lol

Thanks and please review! TSATS will be out within a week I promise