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Tales of the Meridian Society! (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

Sam slipped into the water, which was cooling but still pleasant, and began scrubbing herself off. She'd have liked to linger, but didn't have the time. Besides, she smiled, she'd just spent a whole lot of time lingering.

It was odd, though. Oh, not the tub. What had happened. She'd always thought she... well, hated was too strong a word. Disliked Anne Marie, intensely. For being everything she wasn't. Was it just jealousy that had driven that reaction? A longing to let down her guard and be more feminine? Or had it just been like Big Jim Riggins used to tell her, that she'd just needed to get laid good and hard?

Of course, that had been before she'd gone and broken his nose for him.

And... a woman? She'd heard of women who liked women, of course. But, she'd never really thought she was one. Kind of foolish to deny it, though. Not after the last hour. Still... did that mean she couldn't like men? As an experiment, she thought about Erik. Nope, she realized as she felt heat creeping through her belly at the though of him inside her, she sure seemed to like men as well.

Clearly, this sex and relationship business was more complicated than she'd ever really suspected.

Laughing and shaking her head, she reached for a towel. "Sam," she told herself, "y'all gotta stop worryin' 'bout things..."


It had taken a few tries to tuck her hair back together.

Oh, sure, they'd tried to be careful. But, especially towards the end, her hair had been the last thing on her mind. And, she thought with a pleased smirk, she was pretty sure it was the last thing on Anne Marie's mind as well.

Still, the hair wasn't the real problem. It was her clothes. Standing naked before the bathroom mirror, she held her dress in one hand and her underwear in the other. "One o' these things," she muttered, "is not like th' other..."

After a moment's hesitation, she tossed the underwear aside and slipped the dress over her head. Tugging the fabric around, making subtle adjustments, she turned and twisted and examined herself in the mirror. "Lookin' good, girl," she said. "Like a proper Samantha." A smile. "Reckon Ah'll 'ave ta do this a mite more often..."

The feel of the silk on her skin made her shiver deliciously. The thought that she was - for all purposes - entirely naked except for the dress itself brought a flush to her cheeks. "Reckon Ah'll also need ta look into th' kinda underthings a proper Samantha would wear, dressed like this." A smile. "An' Ah'll 'ave ta sit like a real lady tonight."


Finally, the bathroom door opened and Sam emerged. A bracelet and ring flamed on her right hand, and light flashed and danced from her necklace like a heart. "Ah surely do hate to impose further on your generosity, Anne Marie," she said, "but... would y'all have a purse Ah could borrow? Ah jes' realized Ah ain't got no... pockets... in... this?"

Her voice trailed away as she realized Erik was in the room as well. Cheeks pinking, she made a motion to tuck a nonexistant strand of hair back into her coiffure. "Uh... hi, Erik," she murmured, feeling unaccountably shy. "Y'all... you... you look... good."
 
"Ah surely do hate to impose further on your generosity, Anne Marie," Erik jumped to his feet when he heard Sam before he saw her, "But...would y'all have a purse Ah could borrow? Ah jes' realized Ah aint got no...pockets...in...this?"

Erik's mouth was open slightly as Sam came into view. Anne Marie smirked and pushed it closed for him as she crossed to the bedroom and emerged with a silver clutch. She handed it to Sam then retreated back into the bedroom, closing the door to give them some privacy. God Sam was beautiful!

"Uh...hi, Erik. Y'all...you...you look...good."

"Erm...as uh...as do you." Erik bowed slightly. Where had his tongue gone?! Oh God say something! Anything! "Beautiful, I mean. Not that you were not...before...but um...Well that is..." He gulped and shook his head. Perhaps not talking was better. He crossed the room in a few steps and offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

Erik's heart thundered in his chest as he led Sam to the elevator then out to the car. He opened the door for her before getting into the driver's seat and taking off. Several times he opened his mouth wanting to say something, anything to break the silence, but he couldn't think of what to say. This would be a very long, awkward night if they didn't talk. Erik took a few slow, deep breaths, reminding himself that this was Sam; the same Sam who had taken on the automatons with him, the same Sam he'd been working with for several years now. It was just Sam in a dress.

"You look quite beautiful," he repeated, unsure of what else to say.
 
"Uh... hi, Erik," she murmured, feeling unaccountably shy. "Y'all... you... you look... good."

Anne Marie disappeared into the bedroom for a moment, returning with a silver purse. "Thank... thank you," Sam murmured.

"Erm...as uh...as do you."

Sam felt her cheeks burn at the compliment, and she busied herself for a moment with transferring things from her pockets to the purse. Her keys and her wallet and her jackknife. Her gun with an extra clip. And her badge. Just the essentials, really. Although, she had a nagging feeling that a proper lady would be carrying something different.

"Beautiful, I mean."

She looked over at Erik, eyes shining. "You... y'all really think so?"

"Not that you were not...before...but um...Well that is..." He gulped and shook his head. Then he crossed the room in a few steps and offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

Sam hesitated, then smiled. Taking his arm, she let him escort her to the elevator and out to a sporty white car that made her - just for a moment - want to ask him to forget this dancing business and take her driving. But he opened the door for her, treating her like a real lady, and she slid into the seat. The car purred to life as Erik started it up, and they pulled into traffic.

Silence yawned between them.

Well, this was awkward. When it was just Erik and Sam, two agents of the Meridian Society, they'd talked about all kinds of things. But now, alone in the car and going dancing? Now she was acutely aware of just how good he looked, and just how undressed she felt in her dress, and...

"You look quite beautiful," he repeated.

She blushed again. "An' you..." she answered, feeling butterflies fluttering in her stomach, "are one good-lookin' man." Almost gingerly she reached out, then decided that it would probably be too distracting if she touched his face while he was driving. "You should shave more often. You're much more handsome without your stubble."
 
Erik laughed nervously as she returned the compliment. "Danke. Ahem I mean er...thank you." He was aware Sam was multilingual, but he wasn't certain which languages she spoke; best to stick to English for the sake of being polite. It was much harder to remember English, however, when he was so nervous.

"You should shave more often. You're much more handsome without your stubble."

"I'll keep that in mind." Erik smiled with good humor and, as Sam reached out as though to touch his face before deciding better of it, gently took her hand. He wasn't overt about it; he wasn't so presumptuous as to lace his fingers with hers, but he simply laid his hand over hers on the seat between them, quietly curling his fingers over the edge of her palm.

"I know I said I would teach you to waltz," he started again, grasping for something to talk about other than the fact that they both thought the other looked good, "but I'm afraid this isn't that sort of a club. Not after eight, anyway. We could get in a few hours of ballroom, but then it's all jazz. If you do not enjoy jazz I can take you elsewhere...or we could stay and I could teach you what they are calling 'swing' dancing."
 
"You should shave more often. You're much more handsome without your stubble."

"I'll keep that in mind." Erik smiled, then reached out and caught her hand. His touch was gentle, and the contact still sent t thrill through her as his fingers curled around her palm and rested on the leather of the seat. For a moment, just for a moment, she felt like she'd forgotten how to breathe.

"I know I said I would teach you to waltz," he started again, "but I'm afraid this isn't that sort of a club. Not after eight, anyway."

"Oh?" she asked, voice teasing. "An' jes' what sorta club are y'all takin' me to, then?"

"We could get in a few hours of ballroom, but then it's all jazz. If you do not enjoy jazz I can take you elsewhere...or we could stay and I could teach you what they are calling 'swing' dancing."

She thought about that. "Ah ain't heard much jazz music. But Ah been to N'Awlins twice, an' Ah sure liked what Ah heard." She squeezed his hand. "An' Ah reckon that, since Ah don't waltz or swing, it's all one ta me. So Ah reckon y'all kin learn me some o' both, an' then we kin decide if'n we wanna go elsewhere."
 
Erik smiled. "Very well then. I can teach you both."

He pulled up to the club, opening the door for Sam before handing the keys to the valet. In the back of his mind he noted that one had to put an extraordinary amount of trust in the valet not to steal his car. Although, there still were a finite amount of car owners on the roads, so perhaps there was some security in it. He guided Sam in and led her to a table he'd reserved for them.

"I saw you seemed to be getting along with Madame LaMonte," he mentioned as he pulled out her chair for her before taking his own seat. A waiter came by to take orders for drinks while out on the floor people had clearly been dancing for at least an hour or two. "We were not certain there would be anything left of Greenwich or even of London when you two disappeared off together. I am glad you two have made peace."
 
Erik smiled. "Very well then. I can teach you both."

"Ah'm lookin' forward to it."

The club didn't look like too much of anything, from the outside. Just another brick building, with a man in a red suit to take your keys and stairs leading down to basement doors. But inside...?
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Inside, past the coat check, was subdued lighting and frescos on the ceiling and walls, and small tables scattered around an open floor. A band - she figured they probably had a special kind of name, since there were only six of them - sat on a small stage, and men and women flowed and spun across the open floor in time with the music. Sam tried not to gawk, and knew she was failing. But hell, this was an entirely different world from the one she was used to.

"I saw you seemed to be getting along with Madame LaMonte," Erik said, smoothly pulling out her chair before she could grab it. Her fingers flexed, just a little, but then she smiled and remembered she was being a lady tonight.

"Hm?" she said, taking the offered seat. "Yeah. Ah reckon we were. Kinda makes me feel bad, not takin' th' time ta get ta know her better, sooner."

Erik took the other seat at the small table, and a waiter glided up to take drink orders. "Whiskey," Sam told him. "Neat."

"We were not certain there would be anything left of Greenwich or even of London when you two disappeared off together. I am glad you two have made peace."

She shrugged. "Well, it was a little rough at first. But, y'know, she really is a delightful woman. An' a very good teacher." For some reason, Sam blushed at that. "By th' end o' the day, everythin' had come together..."

Another blush, and she hastened to change the subject. "So, tell me about waltzin'. Only dance Ah know anythin' about is square dancin', an' Ah reckon it ain't much like that. How's it work?"
 
Erik didn't even raise an eyebrow when Sam ordered a whiskey. Dress or no dress--and wasn't that an appealing thought--she was still Sam. He noticed the light blush as she spoke about Anne Marie, but said nothing of it. He did wonder, however, what they had talked about that brought the rather attractive flush to her cheeks. Men, probably. It was the only subject he could imagine embarrassing Sam enough to blush.

"So, tell me about waltzin'. Only dance Ah know anythin' about is square dancin', an' Ah reckon it ain't much like that. How's it work?"

Erik smiled a little. "No, I am afraid it is nothing like square dancing," he agreed, "though it is in a square of sorts." He cleared his throat as he put his two index fingers on the table, representing feet. "So the way the basic step works is you start off on your right foot, then bring your left foot to join it. One two three." He demonstrated with his fingers. "Then you step your right foot back, and bring your left foot to join; two two three. Then you step out on your left; three two three. Then step forward on your left and bring your right to join; four two three." He repeated each step with his fingers, forming a square. Things were, of course, more complicated and smoother-looking than that, but he would have to show her out on the floor to explain properly. "It is called a box step. I mirror your steps; starting out on my left foot and so on. Then it is my job to sort-of rotate us and lead us in a circle with the rest of the dancers."

Taking his fingers off the table cloth he gently took one of her hands in both of his. "I know you are a Ranger, Sam, and I am perfectly content with you leading the way; it has gotten me out of trouble more than once. However, I am afraid it is the man who must lead when dancing." Erik smiled congenially and winked.
 
Sam peered at his fingers curiously as he acted out the basics of a waltz with a sort of puppet act, then laughed. "Well, it don't look too hard. 'Course, Ah reckon that appearances kin be deceivin'." She thought about it for a moment. "So, it's jes' sorta Ah step back an' sideways, an' y'all steer, an' we both try not ta step on each other's toes. Ah reckon Ah kin jes' about manage that."

She laughed nervously. "Course, proof's in th' puddin'. As mah grandpappy used ta say."

Taking his fingers off the table cloth he gently took one of her hands in both of his. "I know you are a Ranger, Sam, and I am perfectly content with you leading the way; it has gotten me out of trouble more than once. However, I am afraid it is the man who must lead when dancing." Erik smiled congenially and winked.

The gentle grip of her hands on his made her tummy feel positively all fluttery. "Erik," she said, meeting his eyes. "Y'all are right. Ah am a Ranger. An' Ah'm right proud ta be one. But... do y'all see a badge on this here dress?" Straightening up, she thrust out her chest a little, showing off what she had. "Tonight, Ah'd be right honored ta have you take th' lead."

She squeezed his hand, then cocked her head and looked at him. "An y'all kin call me Samantha, if y'want. Sam's a Ranger. But... Samantha's a lady, out on the town with a right handsome fellah."
 
Erik blushed slightly as Sam pushed her chest out, asking if he saw a badge on her. "Well no, but--"

"Tonight, Ah'd be right honored ta have you take th' lead."

He squeezed her hand back as she squeezed his. Then in an unprecedented move, Sam told him he could call her Samantha, then called him handsome. Erik's smile blossomed into an unimpeded grin. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach and chest. Surely this all had to be some sort of stupendous dream.

"Well then, Samantha," Erik gently raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, "may I have this dance?"
 
"Well then, Samantha," Erik replied, kissing her hand. And, good God almighty, she giggled! Blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl. She just couldn't help it. It felt so ridiculous, and yet it was such a nice gesture and one that she'd never dreamed of receiving. And God, but her name sounded good when he pronounced it. "May I have this dance?"

"Well," she drawled playfully, making a gesture as if she were fluttering a fan before her face, "ma dance card isn't yet full, so Ah'd be delighted to grant you this dance, suh." Smiling, feeling slightly unreal, she rose with him. "Ah believe," she said, winking, "that's it's th' man who must lead?"
 
Erik laughed as she played with him. He liked playful women. His heart fluttered as she rose and winked at him.

"Ah believe that it's th' man who must lead?"

"And so it is, Frauline Samantha," Erik confirmed with a smile. He bowed and offered his hand before sweeping her off onto the dance floor.

It was unreal. Everything felt like a dream to Erik as he led her across the floor. Certainly his toes were stepped on a few times or they had to stop and start again because she'd gotten her feet mixed up, but she was a fast learner and he was a professional. If no one was watching too closely then no one would notice their small mistakes. The music wound down to an end and he gracefully led her to the side. His stomach twisted as he decided to take a calculated risk.

"Danke," Erik murmured softly before leaning in to plant the softest of kisses on Sam's forehead. "It was the best dance of my life." He smiled and released her from their dancing embrace, bowing again. "If you wish to dance with someone else, I will not keep you," he said, secretly hoping she would choose to dance with him exclusively though not expecting it. "I have seen quite a few men wondering who is this beautiful woman with whom I dance. I will not deprive them, if it is your wish."
 
Waltzing was... delightful. Something she had no reference for. Oh, she'd danced as a little girl, just spinning and sliding and stomping as her brothers picked and scraped tunes on banjo and guitar and fiddle, but nithing like this. Not being held close, clinging to Erik and trusting him and moving with bim.

And stepping on his feet, from time to time. Luck for him, she was wearing her delicate silver sandals instead of her heavy riding boots. But he was a good teacher, and she was a quick study, and her active life left her light on her feet. She'd need a lot more practice, but it didn't take very long to learn the simple steps well enough to enjoy dancing.

Then the music stopped, and Erik led her back to the table and kissed her sweetly on the forehead, and she just melted. Then, he told her that, if she wanted to, he wouldn't stop her from dancing with other men. Her response was to step closer, slipping her hands over his shoulders and pressing up against him. "Only man Ah see here," she whispered, lightly brushing her lips against his, "is you."

Still gripping his shoulders, she rested her head on his chest. "Ah guess it'd be rude ta refuse one o' them boys, if'n they ask. But..." Her fingers gripped his coat, pulling him down for a second, more substantial kiss.

"Ah promise you, Erik," she whispered against his lips, "th' last dance is all yours."
 
Erik shivered as her lips brushed his when she told him that he was the only man she saw. And she was the only woman. Samantha suddenly seized his lapels and pulled him in for a harder kiss. Erik stiffened at first, but slowly relaxed and slid his arms around her waist. This right here was perfect and he wanted this moment to last forever. When she pulled away again his stomach felt as though it were full of spiders and he felt the blood rushing to his face.

"That ah...it was..." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Ah promise you, Erik," she whispered against his lips, "th' last dance is all yours."

Erik grinned and chuckled nervously, unused to a woman actually liking him like this. Displaying it publicly. Certainly he'd had a few girlfriends before; not many, maybe three or four over his lifetime. They had all been like him: studious, bookish, quiet. And it had been quiet affection behind closed doors. But Sam--Samantha--she was beautiful and outgoing and intelligent and there was something incredibly...refreshing about her.

"Well, if you do not see any of those boys, as you call them, coming to ask you to dance..." Erik kissed Sam's lips sweetly, delicately, lovingly, "then perhaps you would not object to another with me?"
 
Kissing Erik had been nice. Really nice. Being kissed by Erik? Even better. The kiss was gentle, like she was something delicate and sweet, and she just melted into him. Hell, it was a good thing his arms were around her waist, because she wasn't sure she'd have been able to stand up otherwise.

"Object?" she smiled, running her fingers over his shirt and feeling the chest beneath. "The last dance is yours, Erik. And as many as y'want." Her grin turned playful as the music started again, and she gently pushed him towards the dance floor once more. "But y'all best get me back dancin', 'fore Ah fergit that it's th' man that leads..."
 
Erik grinned as she pushed him out toward the dance floor. He led her around the floor and she improved greatly as the night went on. Slowly the population of the floor became more and more sparse until they were one of only two couples dancing. It was then that a new band came to the small stage and jazz began to fill the club. New couples, younger couples, came out to the floor. Erik led Samantha to the side to watch the dancers. They seemed to be all a flail of arms and legs but there was an art to it. He glanced down at her with a small smile.

"Do not worry; it looks harder than it is, and I will start you out small." He took her hand gently and pulled her to an edge of the floor well out of the way of dancers and tables to teach her basic steps.
 
The evening passed in a whirl of beautiful music, as Erik danced her round and round with every song. Except the one she'd needed to sit out to catch her breath and take a drink. And the one where another gentleman had asked her for a dance. She'd accepted, only to learn he wasn't much of a gentleman - suggesting that she 'lose the Kraut' and letting his hands roam. So, she'd stomped hard on the arch of his foot under cover of missing a step, and then headbutted him while pretending to lose her balance. Then as he staggered backwards, clutching at his bleeding (and possibly broken) nose, she'd leaned in and whispered sweetly to him. "Mah Erik's worth three o' y'all."

"Erik," she said, returning to their table, "seems he jes' ain't able ta treat a lady right." She held out a hand. "Mebbe y'all kin show him?"

Slowly, in groups of two and four, the other dancers drifted out of the club. A new band took the stage, with glittering brass instruments, and a new type of music filled the air. New dancers took to the floor, leaping and throwing their arms and legs out, spinning and crashing together. Sam watched, mystified and fascinated and slightly apprehensive. "Erik... Ah don't reckon Ah kin do that."

"Do not worry; it looks harder than it is, and I will start you out small."

"If'n y'all say so," she said, doubtfully. Then she rose, taking his proffered hand. "Heck, ain't like y'all've steered me wrong yet. How do Ah do this?"

They moved to the edge of the floor, and she watched as he demonstrated the first basic steps. Hesitantly at first, but with growing confidence, she began to mimic his movements. "Well, hell," she laughed, "this ain't so baaaa..." Missing a step, she flailed out and caught herself by grabbing his shoulders. After a moment of regaining her balance, she looked up at him and winked. "This ain't so bad, either."
 
Erik had watched Sam take a dance with another man. Beneath the table his hands clenched into fists in his lap as the stranger allowed his hands to wander, but he sat silently. Sam, after all, had every right to do as she wished; she was not his property, nor did he intend to treat her that way. Besides, she was entirely capable of taking care of herself which was aptly demonstrated when she stomped on the cad's foot then headbutted him in the face. Erik winced slightly as he heard the crunch of the man's nose and several of the man's friends rushed out to see if he was okay. He smiled as Sam returned to him and held out her hand.

"It would be my pleasure." Erik rose and led her back out to the floor, making a point of ignoring the man still bleeding on the edges of the dance floor.

He smiled as Sam began to catch on. Just as she was saying that it wasn't so bad, she misstepped and Erik reached out to catch her. His arms went around her waist firmly just as she caught herself on his shoulders.

"This ain't so bad, either."

Erik flushed lightly and grinned. "No it isn't, is it? You know Sam, we could--"

"Jerry! Hey Fritz!" One of the friends of the man Sam had accosted was making his way over to them, accompanied by another and both clearly having had a few drinks in the interim.

Erik closed his eyes and sighed, bowing his head. When he opened them again he looked apologetically at Sam; he should have realized a German wouldn't have been welcome in an English club, not after the Great War. He mouthed I'm sorry before letting go of her and turning to face the two.

"Gentlemen, can we please--" A spectacular pain erupted behind his eyes as a fist connected, causing him to blink dumbly for a few moments as he tried to shake away the stars.

"Fuckin' Kraut what's the idea huh?" The instigator wound up for another strike.
 
After a moment of regaining her balance, she looked up at him and winked. "This ain't so bad, either."

Erik flushed lightly and grinned. "No it isn't, is it? You know Sam, we could--"

Sam never got to hear what 'we could', on account of two drunkards howling and shouting as they stomped across the floor towards them. "Jerry! Hey Fritz!"

Not having been brought up in Europe, Sam wasn't sure who the hell 'Jerry' or 'Fritz' were. But Erik sure seemed to recognize the names, as he closed his eyes and sighed patiently and then mouthed I'm sorry. Which irritated her, because he wasn't the one making the scene. "Gentlemen," Erik started to say, "can we please--"

One of the drunks punched him, right in the face. "Fuckin' Kraut what's the idea huh?"

This was hardly the ideal situation for Sam. She was wearing pretty, girly, open-toed sandals, and a thin dress, and quite literally nothing else. For brawling, she'd much rather have her denims and her boots. But that drunk was winding up for another punch, and his buddy was laughing, and wishing was something for fairy stories. So instead of wishing, she stepped in and drove a solid uppercut into the lead drunk's solar plexus, stirring up all the booze he'd been swilling something fierce. Then, as he sagged forward, she hit him three times in the face. Once to flatten his nose and whip his head around, then twice more in the ear. He staggered back and forth as his buddy watched, shocked, and Sam drove another punch into his belly and an uppercut to his jaw.

The lead drunk crashed to the ground, gagging and struggling for breath.

"Now," she snarled, breathing hard, "Ah reckon y'all best be makin' yer apologies."
 
When Erik's vision cleared Sam was punching the man who had assaulted him in the ear. He blinked hard again. The man was on the ground struggling for breath as Sam demanded they apologize. The second drunk helped his buddy struggle to his feet and supported him as they backed away. He pointed at Erik, glaring.

"This isn't over, Fritz!" he threatened, trying to look menacing. "We kicked your ass in the War we'll do it again!"

"In a dance club, yes, I'm terrified." Erik touched his face gingerly as they backed away, a headache beginning to spread in the front of his skull. "Sam that really wasn't necessary," he said quietly, taking her arm gently in case she tried to go after them. "I've long learned ago to just let it go. You know me; do you really think I wasn't beaten on a regular basis as a child by bullies like them?" He smiled with good humor but winced a little as it reached his eyes. Already a purple bruise was beginning to spread around his eye.
 
"This isn't over, Fritz!" he threatened, trying to look menacing. "We kicked your ass in the War we'll do it again!"

Sam started forward, fists clenched, only to stop as Erik caught her arm. "In a dance club, yes, I'm terrified," he answered, coldly.

"Lemme go," she snarled, tugging just a little at his hand. "Ah'll learn 'em a thing 'r two they ain't likely gonna fergit inna hurry."

"Sam that really wasn't necessary," he said quietly.

"The hell it ain't," she mumbled. "Punchin' you 'cause Ah called their buddy out on account o' havin' a mite too many unwanted hands?" She turned, then winced as she saw the bruise on his eye. "Look at y'all," she said, pushing him gently back towards his chair. "Lemme get some ice on that."

"I've long learned ago to just let it go. You know me; do you really think I wasn't beaten on a regular basis as a child by bullies like them?" He smiled with good humor but winced a little as it reached his eyes.

Rummaging in her purse, she pulled out a kerchief and emptied the ice from his empty glass into it. "Here," she said, tying it into a package, 'put this on yer eye. It'll help wit' th' swellin'." Carefully, carefully, she placed it against the bruise and then placed his hand on it. "Like that."

Signaling the waiter, she took her seat. "An' y'all know what? Ah ain't studyin' what y'all did when y'all was little. You done been teachin' me ta dance, so Ah reckon Ah kin teach you a thing 'r two. So, startin' tomorrow mornin', yer gonna learn ta box." She paused when the waiter arrived, long enough to order two beers. Then she turned her attention back to the Doctor. "But, uhm... what was it y'all was gonna say we could do? Y'know, afore we was so rudely innerupted."
 
Sam led him back to their table and dumped ice from her glass into her handkerchief before pressing it gently against his eye. He winced slightly as some of the alcohol got into a cut near his eye. When she insisted that since he was teaching her to dance she would teach him to box he nearly laughed aloud. He composed his face, however.

"Well, if you think you can teach me how to box you are more than welcome to try, Samantha." He smiled and took her hand once she had ordered two more beers.

"But uhm...what was it y'all was gonna say we could do? Y'know, afore we was so rudely innerupted."

Erik turned a little pink again, his courage from before gone. "I only meant...we could leave...if you wanted. But we can stay if you want to keep dancing."
 
Signaling the waiter, she took her seat. "An' y'all know what? Ah ain't studyin' what y'all did when y'all was little. You done been teachin' me ta dance, so Ah reckon Ah kin teach you a thing 'r two. So, startin' tomorrow mornin', yer gonna learn ta box."

Erik's mouth twitched like she'd said something funny, but he managed not to laugh. "Well, if you think you can teach me how to box you are more than welcome to try, Samantha."

"Ah reckon Ah can," she said, smiling as he took her hand. "Shoot, Erik, y'all can take a punch wit'out flinchin', an' that hard ta learn. Th' rest is jes' learnin' ta hit th' other guy first, so's you don't haveta not flinch." She paused when the waiter arrived, long enough to order two beers. Then she turned her attention back to the Doctor. "But, uhm... what was it y'all was gonna say we could do? Y'know, afore we was so rudely innerupted."

Erik turned a little pink again. "I only meant...we could leave...if you wanted. But we can stay if you want to keep dancing."

"Well," she said, thoughtfully. "Ah truly am enjoyin' dancin'. But, uh..." Now it was her turn to turn a little pink. "Ah wouldn't mind... uhm... goin' somewhere else." She bit her lip. "Uh... where were y'all thinkin'?"
 
"Well, Ah truly am enjoyin' dancin'. But uh..." Now it was Sam's turn to blush. And what an adorable blush it was. "Ah wouldn't mind...uhm...goin' somewhere else. Uh...where were y'all thinkin'?"

Erik's heart leapt into his throat. He swallowed it down hard, surprised she had gone for his suggestion. "Well...I thought we could perhaps go for a walk...or a drive. See where the road takes us?"

The beers arrived and Erik took his with gratitude, taking a longer gulp than intended. It didn't seem all the alcohol in the world could calm his nerves. He looked over the rim of his glass at Sam to see what she thought of his suggestion. He had fully expected to be slapped for suggesting something that even sounded untoward, so he was entirely bewildered as to what to do next.
 
Sam grabbed her beer, hiding behind it as she considered Erik's statement. She'd been so full of grand plans, especially right after she and Anne Marie had finished. Well, not right after, because it had taken a few minutes to be able to think again. But, well, she'd been thinking about Erik since they'd left Spain. And now...?

Now she felt nervous as hell. And giddy. And scared and excited and tipsy and horny and it was all tied up in a confused bundle in the pit of her stomach.

On the other hand... "Ah would love to go fer a drive, Erik," she grinned. "Ain't never been in an automobile before, an' Ah'd love ta ride y'all - ride wit' y'all." She blushed again, furiously. "Or a walk. A walk'd be nice, too." She downed some of her beer, then gave him a level look over her mug. "Course, y'all took me dancin'," she teased. "Ain't it th' man what's supposed ta lead?"
 
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