*farfromhome posted a lovely Valentine story 'With a Little Help from some Friends' and I commented on how Camille might react if other women wanted to dance with Richard. ffh's reply… 'You really think Camille would let another woman get within shouting distance of Richard now? Well, if you like blood, S/P, you are welcome to write such a scene.' Now, I ask you, is that a dare or is it permission? I took it as both. Besides, the scene was already playing in my head… so… mind if I cut in? haha*

**the opening scene was supplied by ffh so it might look familiar... but I took Camille's POV**

S1 E7 - Mind If I Cut In?

Part 1 of 2

It's her birthday. Camille Bordey is another year older but no wiser on how to get her heart's desire... so she's brought out the Big Guns... the Red Dress that he had stammered over not so long ago, telling her she was stunning, making her heart race at the thought of the date she thought she had with HIM... only to see it ruined as she was foisted off onto some anonymous boring dull nobody and watching her dream walk off into the night... WITHOUT HER!

She'd put that dress away, bitterly disappointed that he hadn't been her surprise Erzuli date after all. If he had, she knows that evening would have been a NIGHT TO REMEMBER and she wouldn't be sitting here now, months later, wearing the same dress and staring at the back of his beautiful head, daring him to turn around and LOOK AT HER... and thinking in caps.

He's obviously ignoring her although she can sense he's acutely aware of her. She doesn't know how she knows, since his back is a stiff blank, but she knows. She can sense his regard shivering in the air between them. She hopes he can sense her gaze running over him like the march of fire ants! She hopes it burns him, burns him like her fierce hunger burns her!

A few moments later, his head comes up. Her heart lurches. He isn't going to leave, is he? Not without giving me a chance to approach him? She kicks herself for being so nervous. Why can't I simply march up to him and demand he pay attention to me? But no, her pulse slows back down, he's isn't leaving. He seems to be listening to the music.

She cocks an ear, recognizes the song, and hot loss floods through her. 'Hey, Jude' by the Beatles, the paean to lonely frightened men (and women too, she supposes) to take a chance and set their pitiful yearning hearts free. "Yeah," she whispers, "free to get stomped on by a cruel and uncaring world!" She watches him as he harkens to the lyrics. "Oh, Richard, I would guard your heart to the death if only…"

Her distressed words are cut off as he suddenly stands, rocketing her heart into her throat once more. She almost moans 'Don't go, stay, I need you,' when he turns and looks right at her! The lump in her throat swells and she can't breathe as he walks the short distance to her table.

She rises to meet him, not knowing what to think but with raging hope in her heart as he mutters, "Um, Camille?"

Her mouth is so dry she can only lisp, "Yes, Richard?"

His mouth moves. No sound. He tries again, "Would you – consider, well, dancing with me?"

She feels her lips move; she hears a voice whisper, "I would love to."

Then he stands awkwardly as if not sure how to begin. Not wanting him to lose courage, she catches his hand and guides him out onto the dance floor where the dim crowd seems to open like magic to make way. A few minutes ago, she'd known everyone dancing but now she couldn't tell you who anyone was. She has eyes only for this man.

Facing her, he comes to a second halt and for a moment she thinks he'll walk away like he had at Solly's wake. Instead he sheepishly mouths 'You'll have to lead' just as he had at the wake and her heart soars. She laughs, he quirks a small grin of amusement, and just like that, this strange and new juxtaposition in their relationship has history.

She sweeps her arms up, he takes her in careful totally proper embrace… and they dance.

All over the room, men who had been ready to leap into action the moment Camille Bordey showed the slightest sign of wanting male company slump in romantic defeat, their hopes dashed. Quite a few watch in puzzlement, wondering if this is some sort of joke, but after several minutes of watching her practically float above the floor with stars in her eyes, they must accept the inevitable.

This is a woman in love.

Wondering if perhaps they might still get an oar in edgewise a bit later, they get their answer by the look on HIS face. They know who he is, what he can do. Oars are shipped and sights are turned to other targets for Camille Bordey is taken and will now be fiercely guarded by the one man none of them want to piss off.

Meanwhile, all over the room, women sit up as if hearing the blast of a hunting horn, their hopes set afire! Out there, on the dance floor, the enigmatic impenetrable impeccable suited man is DANCING! High-heeled shoes are hastily slipped on and the skirmishing begins.

Camille has almost worked up the nerve to press a hand to his chest when she feels a tap on the shoulder. A breathless voice croons, "May I cut in, sweetie?" as a woman practically pushes Camille aside to get her hands on Richard.

Camille's anger boils up Mt. Esme hot but he would never want to be the centre of a scene so she swallows her impulse to throw the woman out the nearest window, steps away, and leans against a post to quietly seethe... but her temper cools when she stops shooting daggers at the woman's back and instead sees the look on his face.

He isn't looking at the woman; he's staring at Camille with desperate longing. The woman is trying to engage him in conversation but he's deaf, he has eyes only for his Love. The woman glances over her shoulder to see what's captured his attention so completely when…

… a second woman cuts in…

… then a third.

This rapid exchange of partners doesn't break his concentration. Each one gets the same silent treatment and no eye contact. They aren't best pleased.

This so totally amuses Camille that she begins waggling her eyebrows at him, teasing him, but she can see he's about had enough of foreign female attention. His eyes are heating up and she can tell he's going to make a scene of his own if she doesn't come rescue him RIGHT BLOODY NOW! She sees his mouth move and she doesn't have to be an ace undercover agent to read those mesmerizing lips… 'Help me!'

Just as she nods and steps back out onto the dance floor, there is a sudden flurry of estrogen and Miss Lambe stiff-arms woman #3 aside and eels her way up Richard's body like he's a jungle gym and she's the only kid on the playground! His eyes jerk down in alarm as Miss Lambe entwines herself upon him. He grabs her shoulders to shove her away but she's stuck tight as a limpet and wafting like laundry in a freshening breeze.

His head jerks back up, eyes wide, lips parting to yelp out a name when…

… Camille collides with Miss Lambe and there is a scene of such stupendous proportions that people talk about it for months afterwards…

... right up to the time of the wedding reception.

END – part 1