A knock on the door the next evening drew Sarah out of her book, right out of the cold Russian winter the hero was facing to save his people from the cruel tyranny of the sorcerer that had overthrown the rightful king—a second knock pulled her attention away from the page fully. With a frustrated huff she snapped her book shut and stood. When she reached the door she jerked it open, prepared to chew out whoever had interrupted her reading. But the man from last night was standing there, smiling disarmingly, holding a bottle of wine and a CD, and somehow she found herself simply stepping aside and allowing him into her home. He rambled into her living room as easily as if it were his own and she was the one visiting. She watched him as his gaze swept over the room filled with her cozy furniture, bookcases and paintings of various scenery, before turning to her.

"I'm sorry about my friends last night. They can be quite rude when they're sauced, but they're really a great bunch. This is for you," he said, handing her the bottle. The CD case he handed over without a word, moving to study her bookcase more closely and allow her time to study her gifts. Sarah, grateful for the diversion of his attention spun to face the mirror hanging on the wall behind her, quickly checking that her hair was properly tamed, her make-up un-smudged. She flipped her reading glasses onto the table beside the couch and fluffed her hair up a bit without even realizing that she was primping for a near stranger. When she whirled at a glimpse of him watching her in the mirror, he had already turned back to the bookcase to consider her collection as if it held his entire interest and not the charming blush suddenly blooming on her cheeks.

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A bit embarrassed at being caught, Sarah glanced down at the wine. It was pink and fruit flavored, though the print of the company was so spidery and elaborate that she couldn't make it out. The CD was a different matter entirely. A black and red striped swatch of paper drew her eye across the surface of the case, confounding her momentarily before she caught sight of three words.

"Das… sterbende… licht?" she asked, looking up to find him grinning at her. Almost as if he'd been waiting for that exact question.

"The dying light. It's German." He stepped forward and slipped the CD out of her hands, motioning her toward the couch before turning to her stereo. It was pitifully smaller than his own, but was a sound name brand.

"That's a bit overdramatic, isn't it?" The CD was loaded into the tray and he turned the volume dial up before falling gracefully onto the other end of the couch far enough away to seem nonthreatening but within arm's reach.

"What's the point of being a performer if you can't be dramatic?" You look like someone who can appreciate the sentiment, he thought as he remembered the many bound plays and scripts that graced her bookshelves. Slow, smooth guitar music filled the room, followed closely with a bass that twined its way through the higher hum of its companion. Sarah leaned slowly back into her seat, tilting her head slightly. The opening music was calm and well recorded. This must be a favorite band of his. But then the vocals started up and her mind went fuzzy for a few moments. She found herself blushing once again, staring absently at the forest scene above her fireplace, wondering what the owner of such a voice must look like. It sounded awfully familiar, and if not, she wished it was. She was sure she would enjoy getting to know whoever was able to infuse their voice with so much silk and honey. Then the singer sang a word that sounded just slightly off, the 'a' too broad and clipped. Her brow furrowed for a moment in confusion. That voice certainly did sound familiar. Wait. Was that-? She turned slowly in her seat to eye her companion.

Jareth had crossed his legs at the ankles, leaning one elbow against the top of the couch beside him and resting his chin in his hand. Despite the fact that he had only met the girl last night, he was strangely eager to know what she thought of the music. The opening track happened to be his favorite for a number of reasons, not least of which because it was written in a rather sensual state of mind and all the more fun to explain. He watched silently as she made herself comfortable, leaned her head to one side in a motion that seemed familiar and unthinking. Then the vocals started, a sensual male voice filled the air and her reaction changed completely. Her eyes seemed to glaze over, her lips parted slightly, breathing speeding up and her skin flushed all the way down to the neck of her shirt. For a few moments he was staring at the embodiment of mild arousal. Then she seemed to come back to herself enough to have a spark of recognition. In a moment she was staring at him.

"Is that you?" She asked, even as her eyes flickered down to the logo on his tee shirt, a twin of the one he'd been wearing the day before in a different color and the very same as the CD case cover. He grinned and plucked at the fabric with a hand before stretching it across the back of the couch to twist the ends of her hair around his fingers.

"Self promotion is the best sort. Cheap and effective. I find that I myself make a passable billboard. Wouldn't you say?" He leaned slightly forward as he asked, watching her eyes waver between ogling his barely covered skin and gaping up into his face. Was it possible that she had turned even more red? She hadn't seemed to realize that she was now seated on the middle cushion of the couch, just a few inches from where he himself had leaned forward to close the distance between them without alarming his new friend. "I'm sure you'd make a spectacular billboard too, if we decked you out just right."

Sarah didn't answer, instead standing and crossing the room to the front hall. She opened the door and turned back to quirk a brow at Jareth. Her body language spoke of her lack of putting up with any more nonsense tonight. "Are you taking your CD when you leave?"

He rose as well, grinning as he approached and halted before her. He did not answer immediately either. He leaned forward and dropped his arms around her shoulders in an odd sort of half-hug. Unsure of just how to respond, she brought one arm up behind him to rest lightly on his back. She felt him fiddling around with the back of the neck of her shirt and shifted uneasily, trying to figure out just what he was doing. Then he turned his head so that his lips brushed her earlobe as he spoke. "The music is a gift. Listen to it and maybe you'll learn a little something about me before we next meet."

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Sarah sighed as she dropped her handful of quarters into the individual slots on the change tray then pushed it into the coin box. The building's ancient washing machine lurched into action in front of her, vibrating in place with the effort of spinning her clothing. The sound of the door at the top of the stairs closing followed by the sound of approaching footsteps caused her to turn and see who was leaving the building at noon. She'd hoped it would be Luke so she could tease him again about losing so soundly the last time they'd gotten together to play poker with some friends. She grinned and leaned back against the washing machine, propping her arms against the cool metal lid. Who appeared around the corner wiped the smile clean from her features. That damned noisy neighbor. And as soon as he spotted her his path changed infinitesimally so that he seemed to be walking toward her as though nothing short of a loaded gun would derail him. Sarah sneered internally. Well, let him bait her all he liked, she was not required to speak to him. She raised her chin and studied him haughtily. Today revealed a similar pair of jeans to the day before paired with another obscure band tee. Both were of course sinfully tight and would probably have made a lesser woman blush, but Sarah set her jaw and was proud that her icy demeanor didn't waver. The strap from the guitar case that bobbed serenely against his back was pulled taught across the gently worn leather jacket that graced his shoulders.

Sarah tipped her head slightly to the side as a small flare of… something sparked through her. It took a moment to be able to find a word for the feeling: fear. She was very slightly afraid. When he had first spotted her, he was simply walking. On his way outside to do something or other. The movement had been so casual that he'd seemed to be about to fall asleep on his feet.

But then he'd spotted her and his entire demeanor had changed. The rubber soles of his sneakers had made hardly any sound as he effortlessly imitated a jungle cat, adopting it's smooth gait and oozing a purely predatory aura. It was much too easy to picture him in his element, stalking small, defenseless, unsuspecting prey through the underbrush— perhaps meaning herself, she thought as she watched him.

When he stood only a few feet away, a socially acceptable distance, Sarah expected him to stop, to say something sarcastic and biting. But instead he took another two steps forward, crowding her personal space and smiling that unnerving smile the entire time. She'd been surprised for a moment when he hadn't stopped, when he'd placed hi feet on either side of hers and set his hands on the top of the washing machine behind her so that he was almost hugging her. She was startled, her left hand raised haltingly, intent on pushing him away but it never finished its journey. His lips met hers and immediately short-circuited her higher brain function on contact. Her hand fell limply to the sleeve of his jacket and she faintly registered how buttery soft it was against her skin, almost as much as his hand as it brushed hers behind her. Then his lips moved against hers slightly and he tipped his head to the side and her eyes rolled up in her head. The open sides of his unzipped jacket brushed her sides, enveloping her in its warmth. Her heart fluttering like a bird in her chest conflicted with the molasses slow movements of her thoughts until she gave up trying to do anything but keep herself standing… more or less. After what seemed an eternity but was probably only seconds, he leaned slightly away so that she felt his breath warm against her face.

"That was even better than I had hoped it would be." Immediately after he had stopped kissing her, Sarah had begun to fight against the hormones raging through her body, leaving her feeling overheated and weak in their wake. She pictured an old fashioned wardrobe trunk, complete with a heavy steel padlock and tried to wrestle her current tempestuous feelings into it. She imagined her spine as a perfectly straight rod of metal, holding her upright and making her able to withstand the constant barrage of sensorial overload Jareth introduced merely by standing too close. And she almost believed herself to be succeeding—until he spoke.

"Have dinner with me," was all he said. Just a soft, rumbling half whisper spoken so close to her face that she couldn't hope to ignore. In her mind the padlock snapped in half and flew off into the darkness; the metal spine she'd constructed for herself melted, leaving her leaning all of her weight against the machine behind her rather than the man in front of her. "I'll meet you at your door tonight at eight o' clock."

He lifted a hand to rest lightly against her jaw as he leaned forward and stole another small, lip-clinging kiss that made her see stars. Then he stepped back and was gone as swiftly as he'd appeared. Sarah was left standing as still as a tree taking root in the middle of the laundry room, waiting for her heart and the world to settle into a normal pattern.

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Here's chapter two! And, as promised to a certain someone (you know who you are) there will be a chicken and glitter abundant in the next chapter! So look forward to that.

Sorry this is so short but I've been uber busy lately. I promise to do some writing today though because I am on my Christmas break! Also, sorry about the crappy pagebreaks. I had to do some serious combat with my computer to wrestle it into compliance even on that. ^^'

Hope you like it!