Author's Note: OK, this chapter has a lot of naughty stuff going on! Make sure you have the approval of a responsible adult before reading any further ahead! I think this is my favourite chapter that I've written for this story thus far. Thank you everyone for your reviews, constructive criticism and general awesomeness! Also, if anyone out there has a fan fic idea they've been thinking of, but you're too shy to post it, please do! I've been easing my sorrow through reading and writing, and I need some more reading material!

"You've been working entirely took much." Roger told him that Friday afternoon as he laid out on the couch in Don's office. He waved around his glass of bourbon as he spoke. "I mean, I don't think I've seen you drink more than three times this week. Where's the fun in that?" Don smirked as he arranged some storyboards on his desk.

"Every once in a while, a man has to pull up his own socks, Roger." The silver haired man tutted.

"My nanny pulled up my socks until I was drafted into the army. I mean, as I got older, it was in gratitude for incredible nights she couldn't forget. But really, leave the sock pulling to wives and the rest of the jackasses here. We're partners. We don't need to prove ourselves to anyone. Those days are done." Don raised an eyebrow as he looked at his friend.

"Did you ever have those days?"

"No." He replied cheerfully, and planted his feet firmly on the floor as he sat up. "You, me, the Empress, tonight. I won't take no for an answer." Don sighed and held out his hands.

"Roger, I-"

"I don't need to prove to you that I am great company, and I don't need to mention the certain..." he looked at the ceiling as he tried to find the words. "...je ne sais quoi of the atmosphere here."

"Well, when a man talks French to me, I'm all ears." Don smiled.

"Great. Eight o'clock. That's when the pretty ones start getting drunk. Or pretend to, anyway." He got up and saw himself out the door. Don followed, with the intention of shutting it after him, when he heard Peggy's familiar laugh coming down the hallway.

"And then when she tried to do the bill collector's voice!" She giggled.

"I felt like Kermit the Frog had become an executioner!" A man replied, and both let up a howl of laughter. Don frowned and poked his head out of his doorway, seeing Peggy and Ted come down the hall. He was guiding her with a hand on the small of her back as they both dissolved into small giggles. He cleared his throat.

"Hello." He said, staring expectantly.

"Hey Don!" Ted said excitedly, his eyes gleaming in the same way they had when working on the St. Joseph's commercial. "We have some good news!" Don uncomfortably put his hand in his pocket, leaning to one side slightly.

"Well, on a Friday afternoon, I am all ears."

"We did the casting for the Ciba commercial!"

"And we only had to find two voice actors!" Peggy said excitedly, her eyes mirroring Ted's. Don stared.

"Why were you casting with Peggy? This is my account." Don could feel Ted's excitement fall as he looked at the creative director with uncertainty.

"I asked him to." Peggy replied, oblivious to Don's mood. "He had this great idea to find people that could really throw their voices and create completely different characters. He found us the perfect guy too, we just had to find an equally talented woman. And we did!"

"I should have been there." Don stated. "This account is on my shoulders. If anything goes wrong, they're not going to blame you, Ted." Both Peggy and Ted looked apprehensively at Don, and then shot a careful look at each other. Don's emerald eyes flashed angrily.

"I'm sorry Don." He finally spoke. "I shouldn't have done any work on your accounts. You're right. I apologise." Don nodded, and Ted turned to go to his office. Peggy started to follow, but Don snapped his fingers and called Peggy into his own.

"Shut the door." He said sternly, and she did, still looking bewildered. Don sat perched on the edge of his desk, glowering at his copywriter. "Why did you bring Ted in on this?"

"I told you." She replied earnestly. "He had a great idea, and I know how much you hate casting, and I thought it would save you some hassle and-"

"That isn't your decision to make." He said loudly, and the brunette woman looked shocked.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"And why Ted, of all people? I didn't think you two were getting along." Peggy frowned.

"Is that what this is about?" She asked quietly. Don glared.

"What this is about is that skirt. It's too short to wear at the office and expect to be taken seriously. You look like some secretary trying to seduce her middle-aged, balding boss." Peggy glared, seething with a barely controlled rage. She paused for a moment, listening to the mindless chatter around the office, before stepping nose-to-chin with him and continuing in a controlled whisper.

"Fuck you Don. That is exactly what this is about. There is one woman that won't just run along with you and do whatever the hell you want, and you can't take it, and you can't stand anyone else being happy while you're not. So you have to ruin and belittle anyone who seems to be a tiny, tiny bit less cynical and hateful than you are. So you know what Don? Here I am. The slutty secretary, trying to seduce her balding, middle-aged boss." She put on a low moan and fluttered her eyes upwards. "Oh take me, right here and now! I don't care who knows, I just want you to fuck me like you've fucked over everything else in your life. Oh pppllleeeaaasseee, screw me right on the memo about the office supplies." Don's eyes narrowed and he roughly grabbed Peggy by the shoulders and threw her on his couch. Leaning on her elbows, her eyes were defiant as he undid his belt and unzipped his fly. He pushed her down the rest of the way as he reached under her skirt, roughly yanking down her tights and underwear. He found her already wet as he shoved two fingers in her folds, and without ceremony he thrust himself in to the hilt, and felt satisfied when he saw she was momentarily breathless and wide-eyed.

"Oooo..." she started to moan, but Don shoved his hand to her mouth and looked deeply into her eyes as he started thrusting.

"Quiet!" he whispered commandingly, and Peggy's eyes narrowed as she bit the meaty part of him palm, and brought her hands underneath his shirt. Don arched his back as he felt her nails dig cruel welts down his back, and he took his hand off of her mouth to steady himself as he started slamming into her as hard as he could. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and soon they were both panting as quietly as they could. Don bit at the junction of her neck and shoulder with intent, and Peggy took a sharp intake of breath.

"Don't scream." He commanded. "Secretaries are supposed. to. be. Discrete." He thrust hard and held himself there for a second after each word, and Peggy bit the flesh of her wrist to keep from crying out. Don quickly took one wrist in each hand and pinned them above her head, staring intensely into her blue eyes.

"Look at me." He hissed, and Peggy did, wide-eyed and vulnerable, and Don came with a shudder. He collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily into her ear and inhaling her perfume.

"Oh God." Peggy moaned softly, and Don found himself immobile as he felt the last few contractions rush out of him. For ten seconds, he didn't get up. He felt the warmth of their bodies, the mixture of sweat, cologne and perfume that covered them, and once again felt content as his rage subsided and he was taken over by a blissful calm.

When his softening cock slipped out of her, he finally willed himself to get up, and started to fix his pants and dress shirt. Peggy stared, suddenly bewildered at their encounter, and reached her fingers to trace the bite mark on her neck. She glared at him, and when she finally caught Don's eye, he just shrugged unapologetically. She stood up and shimmied herself into her underwear and tights, and strode past Don to grab a tissue from his desk. She quickly tucked it back into her underwear, and with an unceremonious wipe, collected his remnants from her body and tossed it into the trash, sneering at her boss.

"Your hair is a mess." He offered.

"Your life is a mess!" She shouted, and opened his door only to slam it on her way out.

"Mr. Draper, is everything alright?" Don sighed, and went to his desk.

"Everything is fine, Meredith."

Peggy slammed the door to her office and furiously rummaged through her desk drawer to find her compact mirror. She swore as she traced the redness around the bite mark that Don had given her. It was going to take days, maybe even weeks, to heal.

She threw her compact back in the drawer and opened the one below it. Thank God. Her scarf was still there. The dark neon blue clashed with her brown patterned top, which really wasn't made to be accented by a scarf in the first place, but it would do. She quickly tied it around her neck, making it as wide as possible to cover the marks of Don's fat, scathing maw. She then sat at her desk and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She wasn't sure what had happened, but it was never happening again. Ever. No matter how great the sex had been, it wasn't worth Don's paternalistic bullshit.

'It's your night, it's your life.' The thought came to her unbidden, and she immediately scowled at herself. Now she was using her taglines as self-affirming messages. She really was becoming one of those selfish, baron matrons. Jesus.

She stood up and strode out of her office, trying to appear collected and confidant as she walked to Stan's office. She knocked one before opening his door and saw him hunched over his drawing desk. He turned to her and nodded.

"Hey chief. How did casting go?" Peggy nodded and took a deep inhale and she closed the door behind her.

"Good, good. We found a couple of good people, so we're going to get them in on the weekend to record the voice overs. How is the art coming along?" Stan looked tired as he took a deep drag and stubbed out his cigarette.

"Really good, actually. I'm just filling everything in, so if I work through Saturday and Sunday it should be ready for you Monday morning." Peggy gave him a sad look as she saw down on his couch.

"You look like you haven't slept in days." She responded. Stan shrugged.

"Actually, I like it. It's nice not to be pulled in fourty different directions at once. I've been able to give this baby my full love and attention." He looked at her for a second, puzzled. "You weren't wearing a scarf this morning. I saw you walking in with Ted." Peggy blushed and looked down.

"It is cold in my-"

"In the office, Peggy?" Stan's eyes were wide, and a smile of appreciation played around his lips. "And here we thought you were all business. Apparently our copy chief mixes some pleasure in with it." He checked his watch. "And all before noon!" Her face turned beet red as the art director continued. "So, whose office? Yours or Ted's?"

"It's not what you're thinking, Stan."

"Fuck, did you guys do it in someone else's office? God knows Roger isn't in yet. He has the perfect space for an office quickie." Peggy's hand went up to her neck as he inspected it critically. "I wouldn't have pegged Ted as a biter. I guess the man has more spirit in him than I'd imagined."

"It was cold in my office." She said stoutly as she rose, fists clenched. Peggy heard Stan chuckle lightly as she stiffly marched out the door. She went back to her office and grabbed her jacket and purse, and rushed out just as quickly as she could.

"Peggy." She heard Joan call after her, and Peggy stopped to glare at her.

"What?" She snapped. Joan raised an eyebrow in warning.

"Dawn is getting married and we're taking up a collection to get her a wedding gift."

"I'm not feeling well. I'm going home." Joan eyed the scarf around her neck, and nodded with a secretive smile.

"Did you let your secretary know?" She asked.

"You tell her." And Peggy marched towards the front doors of SC&P, determined not to let anything stop her until the bruise was gone, her ego was back in place, and she stopped thinking about Don Draper.

"Lee Garner Jr and I banged a hooker together once." Roger said at the bar, waving around his cigarette and taking sips of his rye. Don raised an eyebrow as his hair fell askew.

"Really?"

"No." Roger shook his head. "It happened a lot, actually. He was weird though. He always took her ass, and had me up front. It was the only way he wanted it."

"Is that weird?" Don asked.

"Incredibly. When engaging in that sort of... situation, one guy takes the mouth and the other one takes the pussy. It's the gentlemanly thing to do."

"I didn't realize there was such a strict code of conduct."

"It's just weird any other way. You can feel the other guy's cock right through the woman. I never finished. God, the things I did to keep that account." He moaned, chucking back the last of his glass. "Plus, do you know how much a hooker who will do anal costs? Lane had to make a new line in the budget for it!" Don chuckled into his glass as Roger smoked, a disapproving, far away look in his eyes. "I don't get the anal thing. It's half way to being gay. Plus, the damn thing doesn't even lubricate itself! You've got to apply some lubricant, and it's just a lot of effort to make the girl feel comfortable. Or at least comfortable enough to not get blacklisted."

"I've never tried it." Don admitted. Roger waved him off.

"You're not missing anything. If God wanted us to stick it up a woman's ass, he wouldn't have filled them with so much other shit to put up with. Another for both of us." He motioned to the bartender. Don giggled as the alcohol made it's way to his head, and he found himself relaxed for the first time since the hotel room in Ohio.

"What about you? What's new in the love life of the incorrig... incorrigibib... any new women?" Roger slurred. Don was at that special place of drunkenness where he became a horrible liar, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to have a heart-to-heart with his friend, so he just shrugged. Roger seemed to sense this, and naturally pushed harder. "C'mon! What are you keeping from me? You can tell your old pal Roger." Don smiled and sighed.

"I don't... it's nothing." Roger looked at the bar peanuts and pushed a couple into his mouth. He immediately scrunched up his face and yelled at the bartender again.

"Hey, get us some peanuts over here that don't taste like they're been marinating in JFK's grave." He then turned back to Don. "Jesus Christ. So, anyway, you have to tell me all about the pretty young twenty something you've been fucking, because it's been a bit of a dry spell for me, and I'm going to live vicarishly through you."

"It's vicariously."

"Don't change the subject!" Don took another drink, and thought for a second.

"What do you do..." he said lowly. "...when a woman doesn't want to be with you?"

"Get a hooker. They're cheaper in the long run and they never outstay their welcome." Don sighed.

"But what about when you have this deep, deep feeling for her, and she just... doesn't want you? And you think about her all the time, and you watch her every step and breath and wait for the moment that she'll look at you, and she never does?" Roger looked surprised for a second, and then furrowed his brow.

"Buy her things. Expensive things. At least then she owes you a romp in the sack or two. Besides, I've never seen a woman refuse you, Don. So if one finally has, maybe there is a good reason for it." Don looked dejectedly into his drink. "Jesus, this one really has you. Who is it? Do I get to meet her?"

"You know her." He replied. Roger squinted his eyes.

"Damn. Someone at the office?" Don nodded. "I can't think of any woman there you couldn't get. Who is it?" Don gave a heavy sigh.

"Peggy." Roger's jaw hung slack for a moment as he gave his friend a shocked stare.

"Peggy?" He asked incredulously. "She won't sleep with you?" Don shrugged. Roger took a long puff of his cigarette. "Jesus. I mean, she's cute, but not quite the calibre of women you usually go after. I just can't..." his thoughts trailed off. "Jesus Don. Are we getting old?"

"I guess so." He replied.

"Huh." Roger murmured. He shook his head. "Well, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I think she's already having a fling with someone at the office. Joan told me that she left the office before lunch, wearing a scarf that she didn't wear coming in." He took a drink and swished it around in his mouth before swallowing, staring at the roof incredibly. "Jesus. Peggy Olson, having a tryst with one man at the office and refusing the world-renown Don Draper. I wouldn't believe it if Armageddon came and she was the last woman on earth." Don frowned.

"That's kind of... cruel." He stated. Roger nodded.

"You're right. I'd fuck her if it was Armageddon. Or if was only her and Caroline."