disclaimer: i own nothing, and no copyright infringement was intended.

JACQUELINE BURKHART.

"Sweetheart, I know, but it's just for a few days. No, I know. Yes. Don't worry, I'll be back soon. I just… need some time off. I know, I will. I love you, too." I hung up with a sigh, curling up slowly on the bed. After I left Eric in his kitchen, I'd attempted to go to a hotel, but Kitty had caught wind and all but forced me into the bed in her guest room. It was a nice thought, and I appreciated it, but it was still awkward for me. I wasn't used to having to put clothes on when I walked around the house, because Lawrence never minded if I walked around naked, and the staff was always more behind-the-scenes. But Red and Eric had already caught me at least two times each, so I'd been forced to try and get back into the habit of putting clothes on when I got out of the shower. Not that I really thought either of them minded, of course. The looks on their faces was more than enough to say they didn't.

"Jackie? You decent?"

I heard Eric knock lightly on my door, and could tell he was hesitating slightly. It was nice of him to not just barge in, at least, considering I was in his house.

"Uhh, yeah," I told him, wrapping the blue silk robe tighter around myself to better conceal myself. I was shocked to find myself glancing into the mirror on the bedside table, fluffing my hair and making sure my mascara hadn't run from when I'd been crying. It was just Eric, after all. I didn't have to look like a beauty queen for him. "You can come in."

He opened the door slowly, glancing down at his feet as he finally stepped into the room, his hands clasped behind his back. "You okay?"

His question startled me, and I raised an eyebrow, leaning back against my pillows. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I just… you always sound, I don't know, upset when you're talking to him." Eric risked a glance up at me, and when he saw that I wasn't fuming, he quickly walked over to perch on the end of my bed. "Not that I listen in on your every conversation or anything," he told me with a quick grin, an almost sheepish look on his face.

"It's nothing," I told him quietly, reaching over the bedside table to grab my nail file. "Really, it's not," I added, because when I looked over at him, he had an extremely skeptical look on his face.

"Are you happy with him?" He asked me, watching me, seemingly genuinely curious, and I found myself staring right back at him, suddenly unsure of myself. How do I answer a question like that? I can't exactly tell him all the things I want to tell someone, because it's Eric. He wouldn't understand. Or, even if he did, he'd laugh at me for it.

"O-of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" I found myself repeating the same question I'd asked him not even moments before, as though I was trying to get him to get off the topic. He looked at me with that same skeptical look, and I found myself tossing my nail file to the floor angrily, crossing my arms over my chest. "No, I'm not."

That wasn't the answer he expected, because he looked almost taken aback by my miniature outburst, but there was no hint of any kind of amusement on his face, which surely was a good sign. "I didn't think so."

"I mean, sure, I like that he spoils me. I like that he pampers me. I like that he lets me do whatever the hell I want and pays for whatever the hell I want but… I don't love him." It was the first time I had ever said it out loud, to anyone, and I could've smacked myself for it. He didn't want to hear about my marriage woes, and I didn't want to whine. I was a strong woman, I didn't whine.

"Then why are you still with him?" He seemed genuinely confused, frowning at me.

I didn't have an answer for him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

ERIC FORMAN.

"Jackie, you've been in there for an hour!" I told her, once again pounding on the door in exasperation. I should be used to this at this point, considering she's been crashing at my place for a few days now, after she got too uncomfortable staying at my parents' house. I offered her the second bedroom at my place, and she jumped at the offer. Of course, she still hadn't realized that she wasn't the only one that needed the bathroom, because I – unlike her – had a job here.

"Oh, sweetie, no matter how many times you wash it, your hair is going to look just as greasy," I heard her call back, and scowled at the door. Same old Jackie. Better looking, but still the same old Jackie.

I gave up trying to force her out, instead taking a seat on the couch and flipping on the TV. It wasn't anything interesting, but it helped to take my mind off the fact that I had an extremely hot girl bathing in my bathroom. I mean, I shouldn't even be thinking about her like that – for one, she was married, and it was Jackie. The devil's spawn, or even the devil reincarnated. And yet, for the past few days that she'd been living with me, I couldn't help but think about her like that. I wanted to kick my own ass for it.

"What do you think?"

I turned around when I heard her, and my jaw would've dropped if I hadn't caught myself. She looked… well, stunning. Her hair was in soft curls, her make-up was flawless, and the dress was… wow. Hugged her in all the right places, was low cut, and it showed off those legs of hers. Not that I, you know, looked at them often or anything.

"Where are you going?" I asked her, confused as to why she was getting so dressed up. It was just Point Place; it wasn't like there were any expensive dinners to go to with your rich husband.

"We're going out, silly!" She told me, looking at me like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're taking me to the nicest restaurant in town, and then we're going to a club. So, you know, go get dressed." She watched me for a minute, and when I didn't move, she stuck one hand on her hip and jerked a thumb back towards my room. "Now."

I couldn't very well object, and simply walked back to my room submissively, still a little puzzled. Was she honestly so desperate to get out that she wanted to go to dinner with me? The idea absolutely baffled me, but I guessed that I couldn't do much about it. Jackie got what Jackie wanted, all the time and every time. She'd probably kill me in my sleep if I didn't take her out.

She was leaning over her feet on my couch, slipping on a pair of dangerously high heels when I finished dressing, and she beamed at me when she caught sight of me. "You clean up nice, Forman," she told me matter-of-factly, walking over to me and patting my arm. "Oh, and we're taking my car. I wouldn't be caught dead in yours," she told me, her voice dripping in disdain at the thought of the Vista Cruiser. Again, not that I minded. Being driven around in an expensive car by a chauffer? Who in their right mind would say no to that?

********

By the time we'd finished dinner and were in the car on the way to the club of Jackie's choice, I wasn't actually dreading it. I surprised myself thinking about it, but dinner had been… nice, actually. She wasn't nearly as snobby or bitchy as she'd been back in high school, and she seemed genuinely curious about my time in Africa. She still wouldn't talk to me about what was going on with her and Lawrence, but she didn't have to. I could tell something was wrong just by the look in her eyes whenever I mentioned him, and it almost hurt me to know that she was in a marriage like that. But, it wasn't my place to interfere, so I didn't. I just paid for her dinner like a gentleman.

Naturally, with one of her dazzling smiles and a flirtatious giggle, we got into the club with no problem. She grabbed my hand and yanked me through the crowd to the bar, slipping up onto a bar stool. I watched in amazement as she simply leaned over the bar with a demure smile and the bartender immediately walked away from the group of women he'd been in the process of serving to ask her what she wanted.

"Vodka appletini," she said huskily, flashing another smile before he quickly turned around to get her drink. "You want anything?" she asked me, looking at me over her shoulder.

"No, no, I'm good," I told her, glancing around me at the people dancing like maniacs to the too-loud, too-much-bass music. I knew there was a reason I hated clubs.

"Thank you, handsome," she told the bartender with a wink, reaching up to take her drink from his hand. It was in that moment that I noticed she wasn't wearing her wedding ring, and I was slightly baffled. She was constantly making a big deal out of that ring, flashing it at everyone who walked by her, because it was so ridiculously large and overly expensive. I almost asked her about it, but I didn't want to bother her, so I kept my mouth shut.

"We're dancing," she informed me, sipping her appletini and using her free hand to grab my arm and pull me after her out into the throng of dancers. She started swaying her hips back and forth in time with the music, sipping her appletini casually and watching me quietly. I stood there, dumbfounded, because I'd never been a dancer. I mean, I could roller disco with the best of them, but stick me in a club and I was absolutely lost. "You're not dancing," she told me, tilting her head to the side. "It's not hard."

I looked at her, bewildered, because surely she knew how much of a failure I was at doing anything relatively contemporary. I glanced down as she used her free hand to grab my hand and set it on her hip, then took my other hand and set it on the other side. "You just move back and forth," I heard her tell me, but I was so thrown off by the fact that my hands were resting on her hips that I wasn't sure if I heard her right or not.

She started moving her hips faster and faster in time with the music, my hands moving with her, and I would occasionally sway one way or another whenever she took a drink of her appletini, taking care to not stand too close to her.

Of course, three appletinis for her and two beers for me later, and we were quite a bit closer. Alright, a lot closer. She was pressed up against me, dancing up and down my body and just generally making me nervous. How was it that she was comfortable enough with herself that she could act all seductive and coy? Not that I really minded, even if I wanted to.

"You don't have to keep your hands to yourself," she breathed in my ear before dancing down my body again, keeping her eyes locked on me. I was sure she was drunk, and that was surely the reason she was acting like this. And, no matter what she told me, I should be keeping my hands to myself.

Too bad I didn't.

Author's Note: sorry this took me so long to update! school's been kicking my ass. xD i hope you enjoy this chapter, and next chapter is going to be all sexy, so if you don't like reading that kind of stuff, don't read the next chapter i post. :] read&review, please!