(Okay, so this was supposed to be a RP start, but since no one was interested in that then I guess I'll post it as a fanfic and maybe continue it sometime between chapters of my other story.

It's a bit different than my regular style in that it's so short. I'll try to stay true to that, with each update being around three pages long. That might encourage me to write a bit more. Heh.

I haven't thought out a full plot for it yet, but I love this so much I can't help but post it. I think it's going to be a JaSam (obviously) fic, with Alexis and Sam bonding thrown in. The antagonist is, like it's a surprise, my Manny. I doubt I'll use any other characters, and if I do they'll be throw away... like only when I need them XD.

Anywho, please, read and tell me what you think! Who knows, your comments might help me to write! If you have any ideas, you can throw those in too. Feedback is always wonderful to me, as long as it's constructive. Don't think you have to spare my feelings by saying "It's good". I'm a big girl. I can take it.

Oh, bear in mind that I haven't gone through and editted myself yet. This is the "rough cut".)

Chapter 1:

Everything was perfect.

Sighing, but feeling accomplished and proud, Samantha McCall took a step back to admire the end result of her exhausting four hour endeavor. She ran a hand through her thick black hair, pushing it back and away from her expressive hazel eyes only to have it fall instinctively back. A grin crawled across the small yet strong features of her face as she cast a sweeping glance across the living room.

The Penthouse had never looked more beautiful. Candles placed systematically around the room were the only lighting source, but cast a powerful enough glow to bathe the room in a soft flickering orange warmth. The center table was set for the perfect romantic dinner for two: nice plates and silverware arranged just as the book dictated, champagne glasses with a bottle on ice nearby, even cloth napkins neatly folded in a triangle. The works.

It was all wonderful. She couldn't wait to see the look on Jason's face when he came home to see it, but what really made her chest swell with excitement and pride was the delicious smell that was slowly seeping from the kitchen. It was not the smell of a phoned in dinner. It did not belong to pre-prepared food picked up from Kelly's or the Metro Court or any other restaurant in town. Sam had spent a majority of her day at the oven, and this scent was only part of the fruits of her labor.

Sam was notorious for her inability to cook. Her culinary excursion today was a triumph, made even sweeter by the thought that Jason knew exactly how inept she was and would truly appreciate how utterly amazing it was that the kitchen was not on fire, and neither was the food.

Laughing to herself, she looked at her watch. Two-twenty. He would be home at five. That left her two and a half hours to get ready. She drew in a deep breath to stay her excitement, and then climbed the stairs in three bounds to get to the bedroom. A quick shower, the evening dress already waiting for her on the bed, and then all she had to do was fix her hair and contain herself in an orderly fashion until he arrived.

That last part was a daunting order.

The water was hot against her skin as she stepped into the shower, pulling the glass door closed behind her. She let the thick steam billow around her as she stood under the cascade, letting her body grow accustomed to the sudden exposure to heat before moving to grab her loofa. Her skin was alive with electric responses. Each drop of water stimulated a spark against her body that caused her to shudder. Her anticipation towards the night ahead was projecting itself into her very being, and the stream of warm water falling around her, usually something she could relax with, did nothing but excite her.

She closed her eyes, letting her hands work instinctively with the soap and sponge to get a lather going.

How was he going to respond to all of this? As devastatingly handsome and sweet as he was, and no matter how much in love they were, when ever they tried to be romantic together something always went wrong. Be it the weather, the circumstance, an interruption or something more devious, they had not managed to pull off many private, special moments together. Tonight had to be different. It all seemed too perfect to be ruined by anything.

Smiling, she let her mind drift to the notes she had left for her lover to follow. It was a silly, playful touch that he would probably only begrudgingly follow, but to Sam it added to the fun.

The first one was on the doorway. A small, blue index card taped to the front door. It said 'Don't turn on the lights'. She had made sure he would recognize it as her being goofy rather than some sort of grotesque threat or something. In his line of work nothing was impossible, and she certainly didn't want to scare him or get him on edge.

The next one was sitting on the desk next to the door. She had built a small little altar around it with flowers and a candle. If he missed it it would be because he was an idiot, not because she hadn't put it in painfully obvious sight. Grinning, she imagined his face as he read it. This one was a letter on aged paper, folded into an envelope that was sealed with a kiss. Tacky, sure, but effective. Out of all her endeavors that night, writing this note had been one of the hardest. She wasn't blessed with extraordinary poetic prowess. In all truth, her literary ability was sub par at best.

Finding the right words to tell him just how much she loved him was hard. After fourteen separate attempts she still wasn't sure she had it just right. Maybe she would rewrite it after her shower, if she had the time.

The shampoo in her hair ran down her cheeks, threatening to sting her eyes if she continued to space out. Tilting her head back, she let the lightly perfumed shampoo rinse from her hair: an effective solution.

The next note was on the table. It said:

"Jason. If you're home on time than you have an hour before dinner is ready. Come find me.

I'm waiting for you."

Sam grinned. Shaking her head and making sure the last of the shampoo was out of her hair and her body was cleansed of soap, she shut off the water and stepped into the bathroom, warm water dripping from her thick hair like rain trapped in the boughs of trees. She grabbed the nearby towels, wrapping one around her slender frame and the other into a makeshift turban around her head.

As she entered the bedroom she couldn't help but bite her lip and giggle to herself. The dress was waiting patiently on her bed. She knew she would look stunning in it, which was why she had bought it earlier that day. It was the inspiration for the whole night. She was simply passing the store when she saw it in her peripheral vision on a rack inside. The rest was fate. The right size. On sale. She had to have it.

She remembered thinking, as if trying in vain to dissuade herself, if I get that, where the hell would I wear it? The idea for the night had come together seamlessly after that.

Toweling off and slipping into panties and a black, strapless bra, Sam picked up the dress and danced with it in a swirling step as she made her way to the mirror. Standing there, with the dress draping down in front of her and her hair still trapped in the messy wrap on her head, she felt beautiful. She knew it wasn't because of the clothes. Jason made her feel beautiful. He made her feel safe, and loved, and wanted. He was her lifeline, and more than that, he was her life.

Feeling lighter than she thought possible without the aid of some illegal substance, Sam slipped into the black dress, unable to resist its call any longer. She still had to fix her hair and makeup, but she had to see what it looked like on her, in the comfort of her bedroom.

It fitted her as if it had been sown around her frame. All the subtle, dangerous curves of her body were highlighted. It had a simple front, a low neckline that accentuated rather than insulted her large breasts, and thin straps over the shoulders. The back was far more intricate, the lace dancing in a criss-cross pattern down her back, exposing her skin from shoulder blades to the top of her tail bone. The skirt reached her ankles, with a sexy slit up the right side that touched her hip, leaving her soft, smooth legs cleverly displayed.

Pulling the towel from her head, she let the damp waves of her hair fall around her shoulders. Even without make-up and the hairstyle she had in mind she felt exotic. Her heart began to race at the thought of Jason's face when he came home to her, following the notes to find her waiting for him in the bedroom.

She pulled herself away from the mirror and swayed with euphorically unsure steps to the vanity. She didn't know how she was going to do an acceptable job on her make up when she was shaking so badly. The safest thing to do was work on her hair until she relaxed a little. Pausing as she plugged in the hair drier, her breath caught in her throat. She thought she had heard a noise. There was no way Jason would come home this early. She stayed completely still, fearing to breathe, for a full three minutes before allowing herself to turn on the hair drier. It's your nerves acting up, that's all.

There's no one downstairs.