A/N: Sorry for the delay, but we hope you like it! Written by Lacrimatra with occasional contribution and a beta from Riatree. We're having fun with this, and we hope you guys do too! :-) Oh, and apologies for the slightly *cough* wrong thoughts of Eric. He's just too sex-obsessed - it's not our fault, honest!

A few nights later, Eric was sitting in his office, trying to engross himself in the 'necessary' budget cuts that Pam had e-mailed to him. Lazily he googled 'Amoratra' and found a few random pictures of Kat's brother's band with one or two where Kat was actually there. They were amateur shots - the kind taken on camera phones and posted on social networking sites - yet he zoomed in on the best quality picture with her in it. He appreciated how well the deep blue corset accented her figure, and the way the black lacing up the front was so inviting. He spent the next few minutes imagining slowly undoing the corset, thinking of their proximity, picturing her face, eyes alight with excitement, her hands searching his body for a way to let her express it...

"Eric, you're in charge of the bar on Saturday night - got that?" Pam barged into his office, placing herself in the uncomfortable chair opposite his desk, interrupting the perfect picture. He hastily closed the image and stared intently at the budget plans on the monitor, hoping he had given nothing away.

"Right..."

"Hello? Earth to Eric?" Pam sidled over to his side of the desk to see what he was staring at. "Since when did you agree so readily to do extra work?" She saw the spreadsheet. "Okay, I knew I was good with spreadsheets but I didn't know they were that exciting."

Eric moved back slightly, leaning in his chair and steeping his fingers, hoping to regain some semblance of authority in his own office.

"You say I must run the bar on Saturday night? I cannot do that." Pam almost smiled with a look of contentment.

"That's the Eric I know." Then she shook herself out of it and prepared herself for the short but successful argument that would convince Eric it was in his best interests to stay at the club. "And why can't you?" She asked, sweetly, prepared to change to her famous you-do-what-I tell-you-or-else tone the moment he resisted. Yet his reaction surprised her. For the first time in many decades, he began shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Almost, dare she think it, as though he was ashamed of something.

"There's an important... event on Saturday that I must attend." He shuffled about a little more and then carefully resumed his composed expression and posture, masking his thoughts.

"It wouldn't happen to be Kat's concert, would it?" Eric's eyes widened and once more he tried to regained his composure.

"Wha- No!" He felt that he perhaps had been a little too high-pitched at that point. He coughed slightly. "No... what on earth are you talking about?"

"Master." Pam said sternly, "I've known you over two centuries and you have this strange, fallacious theory that I cannot tell when you are lying. Or when you are obviously obsessed with this girl. And there is absolutely no way you are going instead of me."

Eric's nostrils flared, anger glinting in his eyes. "What position do you have to make that judgement?"

"What? The judgement that all you want to do is sleep with Kat or the one where I say I would like to go to my friend's concert rather than you stalking her? And I think I know who's company she would like more."

Eric looked as though he were about to say something more but he seemed to find it hard to collect himself, trying to choose which insult to respond to first. "We- I-..." He took an unnecessary breath (even after a thousand years it was a slight habit). "I'm very good company!"

"Good company? Do you think she enjoys having someone like you leering over her when she's trying to have a normal conversation?"

"Well... most girls wouldn't mind a man like me." If Eric had tail feathers, he would be preening them.

"Kat isn't 'most girls'. Unlike your kind of 'most girls', she has a brain! She's doing a second PhD for god's sake!"

"But Pam... that's the point. I'm crazy about this one. She's not like the others!"

"She may not be, but I've seen you like this before. Sure, there are the girls you just use as sex toys, but you've had infatuations before. And I've seen every one of the girls you 'fell for' utterly distraught and heartbroken the moment you find someone new, with complete disregard to the previous girl's feelings. It happened with that waitress and I know it will happen here if you continue. Kat is not falling for your charms (if you even know how to use any) so Let. It. Go."

Eric's explosion at his insolent child was delayed by a tentative knock on the door. In walked Ginger, barmaid, slut and fangbanger extraordinaire, shooting a flirtatious glance at Eric before turning to Pam.

"There's a... riot outside... I think it's..." She looked at Eric again, "because of the Master..."

"What the fuck are you talking about, Ginger?" Pam snapped irritably. Ginger took a breath and looked embarrassedly at Eric.

"Some of the female...and male...fans are getting a bit... annoyed that the Master isn't there. It's led to a sort of... fight." Pam sighed, though secretly with relief, hoping the interruption would cool Eric's boiling head and perhaps even shrink it slightly. Although, glorifying him in this way like a rockstar hounded by groupies was evidently not going to do wonders for his ego.

"Well, Master, get out there." Eric rose with a huff and a why-do-I-have-to-do-it-when-it-should-be-you-Pam-who-is-controlling-the-club expression yet it appeared he too wanted time to think over how he would persuade Pam that he did really care what happened to Kat. He strode out the room, ignoring Ginger, who stroked his arm as he passed.

"Well, what the fuck are you still doing here? Get out of the office!" Pam hissed at Ginger, who tottered out as quickly as she could in 6" heels.

Pam carefully closed the door and sat down in Eric's chair. She looked up the history on the web browser and smiled with triumph as she saw the picture of Kat in Amoratra. Obviously he had chosen the picture in which she was wearing the most revealing piece of clothing (which happened to belong to Pam as well). She opened the budget spreadsheet and was not at all surprised to see that no changes had been made to her plans - while this was fine for her proposed changes for the club, Pam was not sure she wanted him to be so uninvolved. Knowing Eric, he would ignore all her plans now and then complain once they were in place. She spent the next ten minutes or so redrafting the budgets, seeing as Eric wouldn't and barely looked up as he stormed back into his office, fuming.

"And just what do you think you're doing on my chair, in front of my computer, Pam?" His long blond hair was now wildly out of place and he was eyeing the alcohol cabinet with the intention of flinging it to Norwich.

Pam kept her cool tone, refusing to reach his levels of fury, "Possessive, possessive, Eric. And you wonder why I don't want you near Kat. If a lump of black leather means so much to you, think how carried away you'll get with her." She would have left it there, but not entirely satisfied with her comment, added, "Not that I think for one moment you'll treat her like the human being she is."

That did it. Eric rarely ever got angry, mostly because he had no need to raise his voice to get his point across, but with Pam, who was for all intents and purposes his spoilt little child (and one who clearly thought she could get away with everything), his Viking rage slipped out all too often.

"PAM! You are going to listen, and you're going to listen now." Pam scoffed, obviously anticipating his next words as she swung herself in the desk chair to face him. "Tomorrow night, I will be going to see Kat, and whatever happens there will happen, and you will be doing your duty as I have commanded and looking after the bar. And if it so happens that I end the night with Kat's clothes lying ripped all over my bedroom, and her in my bed, there is nothing, I repeat, nothing that you can do about it. I hoped, Pam, that I would never have to do this again, but... as your maker, I command you."

If she had human feelings, Pam swore she could have screamed at Eric's words. But instead she determined to follow her stay-cool mantra, and instead merely rose from the chair and stalked up to him.

"Very well, Master, I will do as you say." She used the most sarcastic tone she could muster, which for her wasn't very hard at all. "But if anything comes of this, and you even think you can get my help to drag yourself out of whatever hole you'll inevitably dig, remember that I will never, never want to do anything for you. Ever."

Eric could all too clearly see the complete contempt in Pam's eyes as she spoke to him. Perhaps he was wrong to deny her so selfishly? As much as he was her maker, he looked on Pam as a trusted friend, and he knew how much she adored him. But, if he was going to be laying down the law and laying down with Kat, he needed to stay by his decision.

"Fine, Pam. I am not your pet, remember. I made you what you are. I can take care of myself, thank you."

Pam arched her eyebrow at him, but said nothing, choosing merely to channel her disgust into yanking off the doorknob before she stomped out of the office into the shadows of the bar, stiletto heels clacking all the way.

Eric sighed, half in relief at having dealt with Pam and gotten his own way, but half in aggravation that he'd made her hate him. He he could completely trust as a partner to run the club, he let her boss him about, and he told her everything. Contrary to popular belief, while he had just about had enough of absolutely everyone else, she was the only one whose opinion really mattered to him (however much he tried to hide it).

Until Kat sauntered into his gloomy existence. He thought to the night ahead, which he had snipped Pam out of, and how he'd get to see Kat in her happiest state once more. She'd wear a beautiful outfit for him of course; she'd done the tight jeans look already in his presence, so he thought an impossibly small mini-skirt would do the trick. Black stockings, of course, with exposed lace at the top inviting his eyes to travel up, and up her tanned legs, which would be accentuated with the very high leather heels she would be wearing (obviously in anticipation of his visit, as she wanted to try and at least reach his chin). Her hair was loose, flowing as she head-banged to the music and her pathetic excuse for a vest begged to be torn off. If he was honest, he actually cared very little for the music - what mattered to him was seeing how Kat felt (and looked) when she sang it.

When she had finished the song, in his mind, she walked slowly and tauntingly to where he was sitting in a perfectly situated corner of the room. Before his brain could even think of how she would approach him, he imagined her straddling him, tracing his lips with her tongue. His dream self nipped her tongue ever so lightly while he ran his fingers through her soft hair. Soon they were kissing, gently at first but soon harder and with a fierce passion, their lips and tongues moving in unison, promising of other things they could be doing. They were pressed up against the wall now, he ran a hand up her leg until he reached the lace thong (it had to be lace) she was wearing and traced its outline, making her body shiver in apprehension. His body tensed in response, excitement coursing through his whole self, though particularly focused at a rather more southern part of his anatomy. He placed one arm around her, pressing into the small of her back, as his other hand continued up the back of her thigh, carefully arranging her leg so that it wrapped around his waist.

She moaned slightly, a sexy, desperate sound and he ground his hips up against her, forcing her to know how excited she was making him feel and she gasped slightly (another gorgeous sound in his mind). Still kissing her with a breathless need, he moved his hand from behind her up beneath her vest, feeling the curve of her breasts and stroking her carefully. Her eyes were alight with want and he knew it was time to fulfil her wish, as she carefully unbuckled his belt...

"Master. Move." A sharp, abrupt voice cut through the perfect image like a knife. Pam glared in response to Eric's how-dare-you-interrupt-my-perfect-sexual-fantasy look and he very nearly believed that Pam's looks could kill. She pushed his chair slightly out of the way so that she could access the computer to print off the budget plans. She obviously noticed the rather significant bulge that had formed between Eric's legs for she muttered,

"Go get yourself a prostitute, or whatever fangbanger you can pick up, you seem hornier than a hormonal teenage boy watching porn." And with that she stormed off, leaving Eric slightly perplexed for a few minutes. However before long he remembered about the concert the next day and so leaned back in his chair and resumed his amazing fantasy. No matter what his impertinent child did or said he knew one thing for certain: tomorrow would be a night to remember.

A/N: And now you've read it, show us you've taken the time to do so and HIT THAT REVIEW BUTTON!! A few words, that's all we need! Do you like our Eric or do you think he's an obnoxious bastard? Do you think Kat will finally succumb to his will?