She didn't do 'this', she didn't do this - ever. She never drank till she giggled, NEVER let herself get THIS into a hot guy, and NEVER ever contemplated what she was now. She blamed him... and loved every moment of it, of him. He was just so wonderfully distracting to her. His hands, gentle, yet strong, caressed her back; his lips tasted her long neck with such tenderness she felt like she was melting right there on the dance floor. She didn't do this... but she needed to - now.

The music came to an end, and they stepped back from one another, and for a moment just stared into the others eyes, and smiled. He was so handsome, so roguish, yet funny, with a hint of the forbidden that she was now all to ready to throw herself boldly into without any hesitation, or fear. She needed this man, this time, this night. She didn't want to be alone with 'her', the woman with the cold stare in the mirror; the one who was always going to be watching her from now into eternity. She clutched his hard, muscled body to her curvaceous form, felt her ample breasts pressed against his broad chest, and felt him inhale sharply at the sensation. She smiled as she rested her head against his thickly muscled neck, and ran her lips along a small faded scar just below his right ear.

"Lara," he sighed, suddenly seeming to change his mind, "I don't think we should...,"

She closed her lips over his earlobe, "Please don't," she sighed softly, a slight ache entering her voice, "I need this fantasy, more than you know."

"Lara," he insisted, "I'm..."

"I don't care," she suddenly insisted fiercely, her hips grinding harder against his, "I don't care if your married..."

He pulled away from her for a moment, and looked in her pleading eyes and smiled, "Liar," he said softly as he stroked her cheek gently, "Of course you would, and you know I'm not." He kissed her forehead.

She suddenly felt vulnerable, and rubbed her left shoulder, "it's the scars, isn't it?" she said quietly.

He turned her eyes to his, and smiled into them, "What scars?," he whispered, and kissed her full lips so gently she moaned into his mouth.

"I haven't been with a man in almost three years," she whispered softly as his hands caressed her bare arms and he kissed her injured shoulder, "The last was with a guy I met on a hiking trip to Kilimanjaro, and that was nice, but ended there. I haven't had a lot of experience beyond it."

"Perhaps now isn't the right time to end your winning streak" he said, even as he continued to kiss her, moving back to her lips.

She laughed softly, "I'm 'yellow carding' you," she sighed into his mouth, "un-sportsman like conduct, unlawful non-use of the hands," she took his right hand and moved it to her hips.

"Lara," he once more started to say.

"Evan," she said to him, locking dilated pupils to dilated pupils, her right hand slid between their bodies, touched him lightly, briefly, between his thighs and smiled, "Why fight us? Your impressive friend down there and I don't know why you insist on denying what you obviously want, and I can assure you, I do to. I won't play games. Please, let us just... just be two people who happen to meet in a bar and have fun together... help each other forget who they are, who they've been; and if it winds up we make love, I'll do my best; and if we wake together... let us see what the morning brings."

"Lara,"he insisted once more."I..."

"Your wearing out my name, but not my resolve; nor is your flattering friend loosing interest in me. " she said her hands wrapping about his waist, pulling his hips to hers, " besides my dear 'Mr. Bond', the more you say no... the more I want you; so shut up.. and kiss me. "The world was spinning for her now as he clutched her warm, willing body to him, and made her feel happy, made her feel beautiful, special, safe. She took his hand and pulled him from the dance floor and down to the elevators, pinned him against the wall, and began to unbutton his shirt, right there, ten feet from the lobby.

Impressively, and a little frustratingly, he kept his hands on her waist, but made no move for her breasts, or her hips; apparently still determined to respect her and let her lead where she would.

Her suite was dark, warm, roomy, and she felt free in it, a lot better than she did earlier, now that HE was here. "You want a drink?," she said playfully, "They still have obscenely overpriced minibar... Even Toblerone, Werther's, and ... oh my God, 'Hog Lumps'"

He smiled and stared at her, "Amazing ," he said, "those and 'Twinkies' will be found by future archeologists in the ruins of our great cities."

Lara coughed at the reference.

"Really," Evan continued as he touched her hips and kissed the back of her neck, "It'll be as great a discovery as someone finding Atlantis, the Holy Grail, Yamatai..."

She tightened.

He removed his hands and backed away, "Perhaps its best we say goodnight," he said, and turned to leave.

She spun, grabbed his shoulder, turned him to face her and drove him back on the bed, pinning him under her hips as she straddled his narrow, chiseled waist. She didn't want to give him another chance to even want to get away so she pulled her shirt off and tossed it aside, baring her breasts and abdomen to him.

He gaped at her naked torso, his fingers following his astonished eyes as they traveled over her skin so delicately she almost got too excited, and tore the shirt from his body.

"You are sublime," he sighed as she slowly resumed unbuttoning his shirt as he palmed her full breasts and lightly massaged them.

She smiled as she opened his shirt to expose his olympic gymnasts physique. She felt his hands leave her breasts for her hips and smiled, "Good man, helping me out of this..." She looked down after he failed to unhook her pants, and frowned.

He was staring at her cauterised wound, his face a mask of astonishment.

She took his hands and moved them once more to her breasts, "Come on, these are a lot more fun."

He continued to stare at the wound, his hands perfectly still.

She sighed out slowly in her drunken frustration, "Please Evan, Please don't look at it, let's keep going please.. Evan?"

His face beamed into a wonderous grin of open admiration, "Was this a fifty cal? Look at my right hip, five centimeters above the bone. Damn gunner ripped the tree I was behind apart... punched a hole right through me, clean through." He grinned wide.

She smiled sweetly at his obvious joy..."Fraid not; this was an iron rod. Still, matching scars."

"Are you a British born Israeli? Masada?"

"No," she giggled, "I don't have that honor."

He studied her wound closer, his face suddenly becoming concerned, "You cauterised it... recently. Lara have you had your jabs? Tetanus?"

"I," she began nervously, "We had all sorts of them before the expedition began," she said as she ran her hands over his chest, trying to regain her place.

He looked softly, deeper into her eyes. "Expedition." He got up, "Gotta use the loo, save my place? er... places?"

"Hurry" she muttered, and flopped down on her belly, slowly peeling off her jean shorts as she smiled at him.

He stumbled toward the bathroom.

She laughed joyfully, and hugged her pillow like a lover, and rolled around on the bed playfully. She felt human again. This was turning out to be a good night for her, all things considered. She finally felt safe, so nice to feel - safe.