'So go grant your soul dance,

Baby, time to be yourself at last,

Unshackle your life spirit,

By a river from the past...'

lovepassionfuryenergy, Lita theme song (WWE)

Chapter Four:

Pottery Lessons and Dorothy's Dress

He decided to give pottery a go.

Only... it wasn't going much of anywhere.

The lump of clay wasn't doing much of anything but spinning... and spinning... and spinning.

He heard her soft laugh, and he turned to look at her, standing in the open doorway, with a baleful stare.

"What's so funny? You think you can do better?"

She smiled, entered his room. She wore a loose T-shirt and plain simple jeans. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail held by her beloved red ribbon. She was beautiful... at least to him.

"You're going about it all wrong. You have to be gentle with it. The shape is in the clay... you just have to bring it out."

She slipped in front of him, kneeling on the floor, and took his hands. "Give the pedal a little push... yes that's it. Just a bit... you don't want to sling the stuff everywhere. Here," she guided his hands, cupping hers over them, pressing his fingers to the spinning, wet clay.

"Just be gentle."

"I don't know how to be gentle," he said with a frustrated sigh as the form crumpled again.

"Yes... you do," she retorted. "Just like touching a person."

He breathed in her scent... jasmine and lavender... and refrained from reminding her that all his life... if he touched someone- it was to cause pain.

He saw her smile as he looked over her shoulder. Damn... she'd noticed him sniffing her hair.

"Like touching me," she breathed softly, taking a different approach. "You wouldn't grab, or be rough," she pushed his hands into the clay, her hands becoming as gray and wet as his. "Just be gentle," she repeated. "Easy, just like this. See?"

The ball of clay was forming up into an oblong cylinder.

She guided his thumb over the top of it, down, hollowing out the cylinder.

"Soft. Easy. Just a brush of your hand. It doesn't have to be hard or quick. Just slow-like. Real slow," her voice lowered, her hands moved up his arms, letting his hands remain on the roughly formed vase. "That's it... you've got it."

"I do?" He was looking at her. She tilted her head to the side, smiled at him. She was staring in his eyes.

"Yes," she said, a little breathlessly. He slowly stopped the pottery wheel, and leaned down to kiss her. It was just as soft and slow as the first. Her hands were still on his arms. She sighed into him, leaned back against his chest.

Oh, lord, he thought. She was getting to him. After Hilde... he didn't think anyone could get to him. But she could... she was. He gently ran his tongue across her bottom lip, seeking entrance. She granted it, her lips parting slightly, just enough to tease him. She ran her hand up and down his arm, heedless of the grayness she was transferring to him. Duo leaned down more, deepening the kiss, taking more than he'd dared last time, heating the kiss up just a bit, adding the passion to mix with the gentleness. She responded warmly, beautifully, her tongue sweeping along his lips, darting inside softly, mingling with his own. There was no rush, no hurry. It was languid, sweet. He'd known her all of a few days now, and he was finding himself drowning in tenderness, drowning in her.

She was the one to break off the kiss this time. She gave one last swipe of her tounge across his, one last little nip at his bottom lip as she drew back, her eyes fluttering open.

"I..." she breathed, her eyes a little cloudy. "I have to go. I was just on my way to meet Dorothy." She slipped away from him, her arms and hands covered in gray. She paused in the doorway, throwing a soft look over her shoulder.

"Just remember... gently. Soft."

And then she was gone.

He invited her to go clubbing with him the next night. She refused.

Only half of him was surprised. The half that thought she liked him, that is. The other half, the sensible half, said that she wasn't the type of girl to go clubbing.

So, he went by himself. As usual, within an hour in the club, he was covered in a crowd of females- and even the occasional guy. But there was no fun in it. He shrugged them off to walk to the bar. And was greeted by a very odd, but delicious sight.

A woman. Tall, with a mass of sandy, ash blond curls bouncing around her pretty, heart-shaped face. Clear, ocean blue eyes. Cara stared back at him, a smile on her face. Silver dangles winked at her ears, around her wrists. And she wore some skimpy little short, short, short mini dress made of silver and blue sequins. The dress showcased her miles of leg, as did the skinny, silver little heels. The outfit was astonishing, but clearly not hers. It fit a little to tight around the top, a little too loose around the waist, and was a little too short. Considering the dress, Duo was inclined to believe it a lone from Dorothy Catalonia, always eager to find a way to cause trouble.

"Dorothy?" he asked when he was within earshot.

Her grin widened. "Nearly pushed me out the door, she did. 'Live a little,' she said. 'That boy with the pretty eyes has gone clubbing,' she said. 'You should go,' she said."

"So you came?" he tried to hid his glee.

"She even shoved the clothes on me." She tugged at the hem of the dress. "Or lack thereof," she muttered.

He had to admit that she looked drop-dead gorgeous, but a lot higher-class than most of the women in this particular club.

Duo swiftly moved his body between her and a man who was looking at her in a bit too friendly of a manner. One glare from him, and the guy backed off.

"You look lovely, tonight," he said.

She grinned. "I look like a high class hooker," she returned.

"No. They don't have quite the... elegance you have."
She leaned in, up next to his ear to whisper.

"And you would know this how?"

Duo flushed, stammered something- he didn't know what. Cara leaned back and laughed, full, bright, and bubbly. He could only frown, then grin when he realized he'd set himself up with that one.

"That was evil."

She shrugged, the movement shifting her dress. Duo repressed a groan as it slipped a bit further up her thigh.

"Dance with me," he said. He liked the song that was just coming on. A bit slow, but a bit loud. A very steamy kind of song. He held out his hand to her, and she placed hers in it gently.

She nodded and he lead her out to the dancefloor, winding in between other couples... both straight and not-so-straight.

He pulled her close, and he had to admit... she was quite a good dancer. Not as good as some others... and certainly not as well, bold... but she was still good. He couldn't help but moan at the way she circled him, always staying close enough to touch, at the way her hands always remained linked with his.

That song ended, another began. Duo couldn't count how many songs where they just stayed there, dancing away into the night.

He finally asked her if she wanted a drink. She shook her head, leaned up to whisper in his ear, to talk over the noise.

"No. I want to go home."

"Home?" Duo frowned... it was still so early! "But I thought we were having so much fun?"

She laughed at his crestfallen face. He knew he looked like a kicked puppy, and he didn't care.

"I want to go home with you," she corrected herself.

"Are you sure?" Duo asked. He wasn't even quite sure he'd heard her right, or interpreted it correctly.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him surely, letting her tongue dance with his in a kiss much deeper and hotter than their previous ones before she pulled back a little.

"Only if you want to," she replied.

Duo took her hand in his and lead her from the club. And then he lead her home.