Josh is crashing around his office muttering curses, muttering nothing really. He's mad; steaming, boiling, roasting mad. I sit at my desk and try to avoid flinching at each clatter and clang. Any second now...

"DONNA!"

Bingo. I figure I'm going to get at least a thirty second - by his sucky watch - interval before he comes looking to drag me into his latest crisis.

I don't want to go in. I'm tired, it's late, I know what's going to happen. But I also know my duty. I belong where I belong. Josh needs me.

"DOOONNNNNA!" he screams.

I get up and go to his office.

"Twice I had to call you. Twice! What's the matter with you?" He waves his hand at his desk - at some point he's thrown a book across the room and knocked over a nearly empty cup of coffee. It's dripping its dregs slowly onto the floor and I grab a paper towel to mop it up.

"I was busy."

"Yeah, I'm busy too but you work for me and when I yell I expect your ass in here within five milliseconds."

"Don't raise your voice at me," I say calmly.

"Yeah, like I'm gonna start listening to you after all these years."

"I could say the same to you." I throw the soggy towels into the trash bin and fold my arms defiantly.

"Yeah, but you won't."

"I still think it."

"I don't care what you think!" He's still pacing the room, restlessly picking things up, putting them down.

"What do you want, Josh?"

"I want a bit of respect," he says angrily.

I know where this is going. "The Bill?"

"I lost by two," he yells. "Two votes, two lousy, stinking, crappy votes. I don't understand this town!"

"Can you ever learn to not yell? Relax, you'll get it next time." I try to sound soothing, try to placate him.

He glares at me and mutters, "Fuck next time." Well at least the shouting has stopped.

"Don't use language like that with me, Joshua."

He glares at me again then sinks into his chair and buries his face in his hands. I can't stand it when he's like this. I can't stand the hurt in his eyes, the knowledge that he's failed again. He tries to cover - like any man - but he can't control it. The anger bursts out of him. Pure spitting venom. He's been so mean lately, so mean to me, to everyone, when things go wrong. I don't know how to comfort him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'd explain it to you but your head would explode. It's too complicated."

"What if you- "

"When I want your opinion, I'll give it to you," Josh interrupts.

I try again. "Can I get you anything?"

"You can find me someone in this town that has a shred of intelligence and decency. Other than that, you can shut up and leave me alone."

I try not to let it hurt but it does. I want to tell him not to take his frustration out on me but I can't form the words. I hate when he's like this and I hate it even more that lately I can't even stand up for myself. I'm letting him walk all over me and I don't know how to stop it.

"Josh, it's late, I'm going home."

"Go." His face is still hidden in his palms.

"You sure?"

He looks up at me, but he's not looking at me. He can't see me when he's like this. He's in his own little world of rage. "Go. I'll see you tomorrow."

I go. Halfway home my cell beeps with a text message from a man I've been spending the past few months with.

'I want 2 come ova 2nite. C U @ 12.'

I'm still so irritated with Josh that I debate replying with a refusal but it wouldn't make a difference anyway.

~~

The security buzzer rings and jolts me out of sleep. Not that I'm really sleeping. I'm sitting on my sofa, still in work clothes, waiting for the buzzer. My apartment is dark and I switch on a table lamp and check my watch; it's after midnight - he's late. There must have been an emergency at work. The buzzer sounds again, a little more urgent and I stumble to the entry phone and beep him in. He doesn't take long; within a minute there's a gentle rapping at my front door.

I don't want this.

I'm tired, but if I don't let him in the rapping will turn into banging then my cell will ring and he'll cajole me into letting him in. I rub my face with a hand then with a sigh unlock the door.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself."

"Were you sleeping?" He runs his eyes over my body and I feel the familiar tingle of lust begin to burn.

"No, I was working on something," I lie.

"Oh, you're busy, I'll go." It's an empty offer though. I know he won't go and he knows I won't let him go.

"It's okay, I was going to make some coffee, do you want a cup?" I take his coat and hang it in the hall closet.

"I could do with something stronger," he admits and I shake my head as I return to the sofa.

"Sorry, I've nothing stronger than Jamaican Roast."

"I don't want coffee." He sits next to me and smiles, "Did you have a good day at work?"

I stare blankly at him, "What?"

"I was trying to make conversation."

"Don't."

"Okay." He leans his head on the back of the sofa and closes his eyes.

"Why are you here?"

"I missed you, I haven't been here for a few days."

I sigh. "You should have called then. Not sent me a text telling me you were coming over."

"I wanted to see you."

"Your eyes are closed - it kind of defeats the purpose."

"You have some mouth on you," he grins.

"I learnt it from my boss," I admit.

"Ah, the famous Mr. Lyman."

"The very same."

"He doesn't deserve you, you're a good girl to put up with his bullshit."

I shrug noncommittally as his hand settles on my thigh. "How was your day?"

He opens his eyes and looks at me. I can't read his expression and it scares me. "Do you want to talk about work?"

"No," I mutter as the hand inches slowly up my leg. I give him a smile; I try to make it cheerful, bubbly, all those things I know he wants from me.

I don't want to do this.

His other hand reaches behind my neck and he pulls my head to his. The kiss is hesitant and soft and on my cheek. He's feeling the need to test the waters for some reason. It's not normal for him and I pull back and sigh sadly, "Why do you do this?"

"What?" he looks confused.

"I know why you're here, you know why you're here, it's always the same. We use each other for..."

"Sex."

"Tension relief. Let's not pretend it's something more."

"Once again you're off in your own little conversation."

I grit my teeth and slam a hand over the one exploring my inner thigh. "Would you please stop touching me."

"You didn't say the magic word," he whispers, his lips close to my ear. I can feel his warm breath on my skin and I shiver involuntarily.

"Now?" His fingers start a gentle circling motion and I glare at him. "Now you want to be cute?"

"You don't think I'm cute?"

"Oh please, don't start the insecurity. It's pathetic on a grown man."

His lips have moved to the top of my ear. He's doing the nibble thing I love so much. One hand is still dancing on my thigh; the other is curling into my hair. Normally this would have me melting like ice in the desert, but tonight I'm upset.

Really upset.

I pull my head away and shift sideways to face him, the thigh he had been stroking now tucked up underneath me, out of reach.

"Something's wrong," he states and I glare at him again.

"Give the boy a medal," I say snarkily. "However did you guess?"

"Well, normally, you'd have your hand in my pants by now."

"And you'd have yours in mine," I throw back.

He grins, "That's because you're irresistible."

"And you're a sex addict."

"Only with you."

"So there are no other girls you use for a bit of light relief?"

He strokes my arms softly. "No."

"I don't believe you."

"Up to you," he shrugs.

"Bastard," I spit angrily.

"Okay, well I know you're not calling me a bastard because I've been nothing but nice to you."

"How do you know?"

"What have I done? Really, Donna."

I look at him and sigh in acquiescence. "It's not you, it's Josh."

"Your boss." I nod. "What's he done to you?"

"Do you really want to know? I mean I only ask because this relationship we're having isn't personal. It's sex."

"I want to know," he says honestly.

"It's just that we agreed to keep things simple. Uncomplicated. You don't want to know about my life and I don't want to know about yours."

"If something is upsetting you, I want to help." His hand is still gently stroking the bare skin on my wrist, the touch is barely noticeable but I have goose bumps all the same.

I stare at him for a beat then smile sadly. "I just had a bad day, that's all."

"Okay."

"Well, it wasn't me that had the bad day, it was Josh. And he took it out on me. No, I mean, he didn't do that. Not really."

"You're not making sense."

"Do I ever make sense? Josh says I ramble on about nothing all the time." I rub my eyes tiredly then lean against the back of the sofa and rest my head in the crook of my arm. His fingers stroking my wrist move to push my hair off my forehead and I close my eyes in misery.

"Go on," he pushes.

"Everything went wrong today you know? For him. He got stuck in traffic, which really, in this town is enough to send anyone insane, but he breezed into work smiling and laughing and making jokes about the driving aptitude of politicians. He coped with it."

"Okay."

"He smiled like a lunatic when he was yelled at by his boss for making arrogant comments on a TV show he did last night. He grinned when he heard an anti-Semitic joke by someone who didn't know that he was Jewish. He positively laughed when he had to offer an incentive to someone he despised in order to get enough votes for the new Bill he authored."

"I don't understand. If he was laughing...?"

"No, he was screaming on the inside. He was yelling, shouting, hurting. Crying. He was having such a bad day. Then this afternoon, he lost the Bill."

"How?"

"He couldn't keep the votes despite the begging."

"He's a proud man."

"Yes, he is. He didn't tell me, but having to ask this particular Senator for help and giving him an incentive that would have hurt the party but overall would help the general American public wasn't enough. I do think he actually begged. Literally."

"But if he was promised the votes?"

"The Senator backed down. After the President whipped Josh senseless for not managing to pass the Bill - which wasn't his fault - he came back to his office and started throwing things around." I feel myself get teary.

Oh, I am not going to cry.

"Then..."

"Nothing," I conclude. "He told me to go home."

"Why do you let him affect you so much?"

I stare up at him and try to smile. He doesn't understand at all. I don't know if I can make him understand, or even if I want to.

"I was so afraid today. Each little defeat maybe he could have coped with, but not all together, not at this point in his life."

"What's happening in his life?"

"Nothing! That's the whole point. He doesn't know I know, because I'm always bugging him for extra work - I'm sure he thinks that I think he's too busy for me, but the problem is, he isn't busy at all! No one is giving him things to do. He's at a loss because they think he's a loose cannon. I don't know why. He made more mistakes in the first few years of the administration and he hasn't done anything that bad recently. He's the golden child. Democrats love him; Republicans hate him but love to argue with him. He's the poster boy for politics."

"So why is it going wrong?"

"I don't know," I sigh and close my eyes again. His thumb is stroking lightly across my eyebrows. "I don't know why I can't help him."

"Why do you feel the need to help him?"

"Because..."

"Why? You're not his mother, you're not his wife, or even his significant other."

"I help him because no one else will."

"That's not a good enough reason for anyone."

"I used to help him simply because I worked for him. Because if I didn't organize him he would turn up to work in dirty shirts and mismatched socks."

"Did he do that before you came along?"

"No, I don't think so," I admit.

"So why did you feel the need to start?"

"Because... I wanted to. I like taking caring of him. I like to be needed, to feel useful. To feel as though I'm making a difference - a contribution."

"So why did today upset you so much?"

"Because I couldn't help him. I couldn't make his pain go away. He was hurting and I couldn't stop the hurt." I squeeze my eyes together to stop the tears.

"He's an adult, Donna. He can take care of himself. His emotional problems shouldn't be your concern."

"Why not?"

"Because he's your boss. You're his assistant."

"Our relationship is so much more than that though."

"If it's more than that then why am I here instead of him," he says, not unreasonably.

"Because it isn't that type of relationship."

"Do you want it to be?"

"I..."

"Do you think he needs you?"

"Not as much as I need him."

"What do you need him for?"

I wonder if the act of saying it will push him away and then I truly will be alone. I wonder if I can really say it. Oh what the hell. It's still the game.

"To make my life complete." I laugh ruefully, "Stupid I know, but I love him. I'm in love with him. I love my boss. Damn it."

There's silence for a moment until he says, "Tell him then."

I let my eyes open and the tears dribble out. "I couldn't. I belong where I belong. I can't destroy the status quo. Josh needs me and I need him. Each day though, my love fades a little more because if I don't let it die then it'll destroy me." Well, I might as well admit everything - there's no going back now. "I can't feel what I feel for him and have him treat me so badly. I need to get my self-respect back. My desire to have him love me is slipping away and one day soon it'll be gone, but for now he needs me to take care of him and I'll hide my true feelings so I'm able to do that. It's my duty."

"Why is it your duty though? I don't understand."

"Because I love him," I say simply. "While I can't prove it in the way I want, I'll prove it in other ways. And I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Scared?"

"No," I shake my head and sniff. "This is too personal for me now and I can see I'm freaking you out. I shouldn't have let you know what I felt about Josh. I'm sorry."

He wipes the tears off my cheeks. "Don't apologize; I'm the one that should be sorry. I know that you love him, I've known for a long time now."

"And it doesn't... bother you?"

"It doesn't bother me because you and I don't have an emotional relationship. I have to say though, I don't think it would bother Josh either."

"Please don't go there."

"I'm sorry and I shouldn't have pushed you."

"No, it was good to get it off my chest."

"And such a pretty chest it is."

I grin weakly at him, "Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Is it working?"

"It might be." He lets his fingers slide down my neck to the collar of my shirt. "I should be fair and ask you about your day."

He shrugs, "Same as always. Bad day. Not as bad as yours it seems and while my intention tonight was to erase my problems by shoving you against a wall to make me forget my day, I think tonight should be your choice."

"How kind. I want you to shove me against a wall and make me forget today."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure. Make me forget please."

He smiles slowly, hungrily, and leans in to kiss my neck. This time, the kiss isn't hesitant. It's hard and firm and desperate. His hands start to unbutton my shirt and I help him, desperate to get out of my clothes, desperate to end the day on a high note.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers and his fingers slide over my bra, thumbs grazing my nipples through the cotton.

"Stop it. I don't want you to talk."

"I'll find other uses for my mouth then."

I grab the back of his head and pull him close. "No talking," I command. "Just fucking."

"If you insist." His tongue darts out to trace my lips and I shake my head.

"No kissing remember? We don't kiss on the lips because we don't love each other."

"It's purely business then," he says a little sadly.

"That's the way it's always been."

"And always will be," he adds. "My mouth can have fun further south."

"You're a poet and don't know it."

"Shut up now." He dips his head to nibble my neck, pressing little kisses down my throat until he reaches my breasts. I slide my arms out of my sleeves, reach behind to unclasp my bra and he helps pull the straps over my shoulders.

"Beautiful."

"What did I say?"

He glances up at me and frowns, "You know something, Donna? I want to compliment you. You had a shitty day and you have a shitty boss who acts like he doesn't care about you so I want to make you feel good despite your insistence that I fuck you."

"Why?"

"Is it so hard to believe that I like you? That I want to help you?"

"Yes."

"Deal with it," he shrugs.

"Are you in love with me?" I ask suspiciously and he laughs.

"No, I'm a person who uses you purely for sex so I don't love you. But I do want to help."

"You really know how to make a girl feel good," I mutter.

"Is that sarcasm or do you really mean it just because I'm pinching your nipples?"

"Could be a little of both," I hiss as his fingers squeeze harder.

"Ah, your body gives you away, Donna."

"What happened to the fucking?"

His palms cover my breasts, warming them and chilling them simultaneously. "I'm not going to fuck you."

"What are we doing then?"

"Donna, wipe the glare off your face. You don't want to be fucked. You want to be loved. You want Josh to love you, you want him to make love to you, to hold you close and fall asleep with you. You want to spend the rest of your life with him."

"Yeah but Josh isn't here now."

"He could be."

"What do you mean?"

He moves his hands to my cheeks and forces me to look into his eyes. "I mean, I can be Josh. If you want."

"You're not Josh though," I say firmly.

"No." I can't read the expression on his face and it worries me because it looks almost... sad. "No," he says again. "I'm just some guy you decided to fuck for a little selfish pleasure."

I pull his hands from my face and push them back onto my breasts. "And what's wrong with that?"

"Donna, I'm being serious here. You need Josh tonight. You're afraid you can't take care of him anymore which makes you feel you're going to lose him so I'm going to be Josh and show you that I can take care of you and you don't always have to be in control."

"This isn't a good idea," I warn.

"Please let me be Josh with you. Even if it's just for one night. Next time I'll go back to being the guy you fuck."

I stare into his eyes, eyes I'd never looked deep into because I didn't want to get personal with this man. His eyes are filled with... compassion. Gentleness.

"Okay... Josh."

He smiles softly, "Okay. Now perhaps you'll let me take control."

"Fine, take control." I close my eyes once more and sigh, this time in pleasure, as his hands tweak my nipples.

"I love how you look when I'm touching you like this."

"How is that?"

"Contented I think. Not relaxed really, your relaxed look only ever comes after you do."

I grin and look down to where his hands are skillfully sliding over my skin, "Will I be able to relax tonight?"

"Oh yes, I intend to make sure you relax many times."

"It'll be much appreciated. Let me know when you need something to be done to you."

"We're doing you first," he says decisively.

"Josh isn't like that."

"How do you mean?" he asks; his hands have moved to the waistband of my trousers and he's running a finger over the button and I arch my back to allow him to unzip.

"Josh wouldn't put my needs first."

The zip slides down. "How do you know? You've never slept with him. Maybe he's all about the women."

"Josh?" I snort. "Hardly!"

"You know, I think you're trying to trick yourself into believing that. I think you've thought about it and you know he'd put your needs before his."

"I don't know," I admit. "Josh only does something when he can get something double in return."

"Now, that's not true," he scolds as he bends his head and begins nuzzling my collarbone. "Josh, I mean I, would make sure you were satisfied first. And if there was only time for one of us, it'd be you."

"Why?"

His lips move further south and I gasp as his teeth gently bite into a nipple. "Because," he says between nibbles, "giving you pleasure is worth more than any sexual satisfaction I may get."

"You don't mean that."

"No, your fuck buddy doesn't. But I'm Josh now, and I do mean it."

I sigh softly. "I don't think I can play this game, no matter how good your mouth is feeling right now."

"You mean me actually being Josh?"

"Yes."

"Close your eyes," he commands. "No peeking now."

"I promise."

"What does he look like?"

"Josh?"

"Yep."

"He's not tall, but not short, he's my height actually which I love. It means I can look into his eyes. Brown eyes. With little flecks of black in them and they get dark when he sees me wearing a ball gown. He doesn't think I notice but I do."

"Go on, you're doing fine," he encourages, letting his tongue slip over my breasts.

"He has brown hair and it used to be unruly and wild and when he awoke it would be sticking up all over the place. He got it cut recently. I didn't like it at first, maybe because I've always dreamed of running my fingers through the messy curls, holding his head when he's kissing my breasts." My eyes are still closed and I feel him take my hands and place them in his hair. It's soft and silky and I slide my fingers through it as he continues to kiss my nipples.

"That feels good," he murmurs.

"Likewise."

"Tell me more about him." His hands have ventured down past my waist into my trousers and I shift slightly to allow him easier access.

"He has dimples. Oh, he has the cutest, sweetest, most adorable dimples I've seen and probably will ever see. When he grins his whole face lights up and the dimples emerge and I sometimes find myself unable to breathe when he directs them straight at me. I'm a deer in headlights."

"Bambi."

"Oh yes," I agree. "Dimples like that should be standard equipment for any man."

His mouth abandons the nibbling on my breasts and I try not to whimper when I feel his fingers gently easing my trousers over my hips and down my legs. "What about his other... equipment?"

"I don't know what you could possibly mean. Would you hurry up and get my pants off already?" With my eyes still closed, I lean forward to help him but he pushes my hands away.

"Stop it, I'm in control here."

"Then hurry up!"

"Shoes first."

"Oh good God, you're as stubborn as him," I mutter.

"That's because I am him. And I want to go nice and slow and make you feel absolutely everything." He pulls my shoes off and I hear two clunks as they fall on the floor. "Keep talking."

"I sat on his lap once. In a crowded cab. It was nice."

"Only nice?"

"Well, it was crowded, and bumpy and I was squashed right on top of him."

"You're grinning like a lunatic you know?"

I try to purse my lips to quell the smile but fail miserably. "Sorry. It was a seriously nice cab ride. I've also seen him running down the hall of a hotel in boxer shorts and, honestly, there was a fair bit of," I start to snigger, "bouncing."

"You know, laughing at a man's size isn't very nice," he grumbles reproachfully.

"Oh no, I was remembering the situation. We'd missed the wake up call and he was running to the motorcade to tell them to wait. When he turned around to yell at me to hurry up, he tripped over and I saw things I shouldn't have seen."

I hear laughter and I grin, "I was left behind, of course, to gather our things so I wasn't there when he ran into the foyer only to be met by a gaggle of photographers waiting for the President. The pictures appeared online within an hour and by the end of the day he'd had several unsettling propositions from people admiring his naked legs."

We laugh together before he asks, "Why were you in his room?"

"Oh we always share a room while traveling. It's usually the middle of the night when he gets the need to talk things out. Ideas, issues, you know. To save him calling me every half an hour I stay with him and when he feels the need to ramble on he can do it and I can pretend to listen. I'm really just sleeping but he doesn't know that because I've perfected the art of sleep talking. As long as I say 'good idea' and 'that might work' and 'do you really think you can do it' he's happy. I'm simply there as a wall to bounce off of."

"How sneaky of you."

"Yeah, I've learned to be devious with him. The only way to get him to do something I want is to use reverse psychology. Or to pander to his ego."

His laughter continues as he asks, "Is he smart?"

"He's incredibly smart. You wouldn't believe how amazingly clever he is. It's not just because he's read everything, or because he's well educated; it's something inside. Basal intelligence, I think they call it. He's got a good education; he's studied law. He's written numerous Bills, argued countless deals and bargains, organized conferences with heads of state to get better things for our country. He wants to make the world a better place."

"Josh sounds too good to be true," he comments as he rubs the toes on my left foot.

"Oh no, he's also a complete and utter idiot. He says things before he thinks - his mouth runs away with him. He gets too involved in minutiae because he has this desire for perfection."

"There's always a bad side."

"I love his bad side. I love that there are two completely different sides to him. Do my other foot now." He obliges and I continue, "He tends to fall over a lot and bump into things because he's occupied with something. Sometimes he simply falls over just because he's clumsy."

"Doesn't sound all that appealing to me." My right foot is being massaged now and I can feel my whole body start to relax.

"It appeals to me. All the little things blend together to make him who he is."

"Our experiences also make us who we are."

"Yeah," I pause then sigh unhappily. "He feels guilty about everything."

"Why?"

"Because horrible things have happened throughout his life. I don't want to go into detail, please don't ask me to because they're too personal, but they're things that affect him very deeply. I don't know if he goes through a single day without remembering the bad stuff from his past."

"No wonder he's mad all the time."

"The scars will never leave him. The emotional ones... and the physical ones," I sigh sadly.

The massaging has stopped and he's moved back up to my waist. "Pants now I think." With a yank, he pulls my trousers off.

"Can I open my eyes yet? I want to watch you."

"Not yet. I want to know a little more about him."

"I don't know what else to say."

"Why do you love him?"

"Because of everything I've just told you. Why does a person fall in love? No one knows; you can explain away all the logical reasons except why my heart beats just a little bit faster when I see him; why it's hard for me to breathe when he says something nice. Why do I love him? Because he's Josh. That's all I can say."

"Where are his physical scars, Donna?"

I trace the shape of Josh's scar down my left breast. "Here," I whisper, " and right here, just under his big stupid heart, is the bullet hole. A tiny insignificant hole that almost took him away from me. Damn it."

"You don't have to cry," he says kindly; I hear soft rustling then he pulls my hand away from my breast and I feel the warm skin of his own chest beneath my palm. "Do you feel the scar, Donna?" He slides my hand down and I bite back a sob.

"Yes. I feel it."

"Then you're ready. Open your eyes." His voice is low but commanding and I obey, blinking back tears to look at him.

"Josh." I don't see my fuck buddy anymore. I see Josh sitting before me, smiling.

"I'm right here for you," he smiles softly as he brings my other hand to his chest. "You can feel my scar. My hair is short and fluffy, my eyes are brown. I have dimples."

He grins widely and I nod, "Yeah, they're pretty sexy."

"Sexy eh?"

"Very sexy." I lean forward and smile. "Your dimples are sexy."

"Yeah, I know," he shrugs modestly. My hands are still clasped in his, resting against his chest so I lean closer and lightly kiss one dimple, then the other. He's still grinning so I go back to the first side and press my lips more firmly to his cheek. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?"

"Probably not as long as I've wanted you to do this."

"And have you noticed I'm only wearing a pair of underpants while you're still dressed."

"My shirt is open," he says defensively.

"I'd like it better if it was off. And maybe you could lose your shoes. And perhaps the rest of your suit too."

"Anything for you." He stands up and quickly undresses down to his boxer shorts.

"Nice."

"Oh you like them?" He starts striking poses and making horrible pouty faces.

"You're not a model," I say between gasps of laughter. "Quit it already."

"Well if I can't model my lovely cartoon boxers what else can I do?"

"Come back to me, Josh," I pat the cushions of the sofa and he sits down again. "I'm a little cold. And a little freaked because I'm suddenly very aware that I've never been really naked in front of you before."

He stops and smiles, "You called me Josh."

"Yeah... I'm sorry, should I not?"

"No, I told you I am Josh. I want you to call me by my name."

"Josh." I close my eyes, briefly this time, and take a deep breath and remind myself that it is Josh sitting here with me.

"Don't be scared, Donna. This is what you want. It's what I want."

"I want to keep going."

"Yeah and remember, we have to take care of you first."

I nod. "Right. Well, what are you waiting for?"

"Nothing anymore." He pushes me back until I'm lying on the sofa and he's lying next to me. It's not a big sofa and we're pressed against each other; his free arm is slung over my waist, his fingers making tiny circular patterns in the small of my back. I can feel his scarred chest against my breasts and his hard thighs tangled around mine.

"I think perhaps I could lie here forever," he says quietly.

"Forever is not an option with us."

"Can we pretend it might be?" His other hand, the one that's curved under my neck and around the back of my head, is stroking my hair, playing with the clip holding it in place.

I look into his eyes again and smile. "For tonight, yeah."

"You want forever with Josh."

"He'd never ask me," I say as he releases the clip and my hair falls down my back.

"If I did ask," he pushes.

"Josh, if you did ask, then yes I would agree to forever," I smile.

"I love your hair, Donna. I love how it's almost... glowing in the lamplight. I can't believe how gorgeous you are."

"Stop it, you'll make me blush!"

"I wonder if when you blush, your whole body does as well," he whispers. "I want to kiss you."

"I want to kiss you too," I admit and he bends his head towards me and brushes my mouth with his. It's okay now he's Josh. It's soft and warm and gentle and he's tracing my lips with his tongue, seeking entrance. I let my own tongue graze his; let him into my mouth with a sigh.

It's quite possibly the best kiss I've ever received. It's like taking a sip of champagne; having bubbles go straight to the head. He tastes of... I don't know what, but it's delicious and hot and I want more. I press my body more firmly to his, letting my hand slide through his hair to bring his head closer to deepen the contact. I can feel my nipples harden against his chest and I can feel other parts of him harden against my leg and I shift a little to allow my thigh to settle more comfortably against his.

He's so firm and so soft all at the same time and I want to stay like this, pressed against him, kissing him forever. But oxygen soon becomes a priority, and I reluctantly break away.

"Wow," he whispers in a voice thick with desire.

"I echo the sentiment."

"Your lips are all pink."

"Yeah, I've been told they get like that."

He pulls away and lets his eyes sweep down my body. "You're all flushed," he says in amazement. "I never noticed before."

"That's because before we were too busy blindly fucking to actually pay attention to what was happening."

"A mistake I don't intend to repeat tonight." He leans in for second kiss, this one shorter but more urgent then rests his forehead against mine and whispers, "This couch is too small for the things I'm planning on doing to you."

"I have a bed," I offer and he looks at me in surprise. "I know the rule is that we don't do it in a bed. Against the wall, on the dining table-"

"The floor," he adds.

I nod, "Also I've just realized we haven't actually been this naked with each other. It was never necessary to remove clothes for a good old wham bam thank you ma'am."

"There'll be none of that," he reiterates, "and I understand the no bed rule, Donna. It's too intimate."

"But it's okay for tonight, Josh. I know it's stupidly virginal but I want my first time with you to be in my bed." He smiles and kisses me again, nudging me into a sitting position and I take a deep breath and ask, "Would you carry me there?"

"I was planning on it," he winks, bending to scoop me into his arms. The muscles in his shoulders ripple with my weight and I tilt my head to nestle against them, pressing tiny open-mouthed kisses along the tendons in his neck.

"I love your neck," I mumble between kisses. "I love how your clothes hide your muscles."

"I love how you can make a pair of cotton underpants look sexier than lace lingerie just because you're in them."

"I have lace lingerie."

"Reeeeallly?" We've reached my bed and he places me in the middle and sits next to me before switching on the lamp on my nightstand.

"Yeah. Just a few scrappy little things."

"Lacy things are good. But," he drags a finger across the waistband of my cotton underpants; "this is far more erotic." He rests his hand momentarily on the top before dipping his fingers under the elastic and when I shudder and close my eyes he says," Look at me. Look at what I'm doing to you."

I obey. I really can't help it. He's not the man who blindly fucks me. He's Josh - saying what Josh would say, doing what Josh would do and I don't want to miss anything.

"Do you understand why cotton is so sexy, Donna?"

"No," I gasp as his fingers slip inside me. One, two, then three.

"Think about it. Cotton is so demure, so straight laced. Prim. But underneath the cotton there's fire and passion," his thumb flicks out and my toes curl, "and this little thing which exists for no other reason than to give you pure satisfaction."

His thumb circles again and I grip the blanket and press my lips together to keep from moaning. "Your innocent little pair of white cotton underpants hide..." he stops speaking as his thumb moves faster and faster until my body tenses and I cry out in pleasure.

"They hide the animal in you." He withdraws his hand and smiles down at me. "See? For while the outside looks innocent, the inside is raging. See-through lace panties are so obvious; cotton leaves much to the imagination."

"And that's sexy?" I manage to gasp, still feeling little twitches deep inside.

"You bet."

I stretch my arms above my head contentedly and hide a grin when he emits a low growl, "I think your boxers are sexy."

"You think Calvin and Hobbes are sexy? You're sick you know that?"

"I think Hobbes is adorable. He's wise and clever and makes interesting observations about life."

"Kind of like me?"

"If you say so," I smile. "You look good."

His fingers lazily slide over my inner thighs. "You're laughing at my choice of underwear."

"I would never!" I insist indignantly trying, of course, not to laugh.

"You think it's good for a man's ego to have a woman laugh at him when he's naked?"

"Ah but you're not naked," I point out. "And I am seriously not laughing at your underwear."

"You're grinning," he accuses.

"That's the after effects of an orgasm."

"Really?" He looks surprised and I shake my head.

"No, it's the underwear, but only because it's adorable, not sad, that a middle aged man has comic book boxer shorts."

"So it wasn't the mind blowing orgasm I just gave you?" To prove his point he rests his hand between my legs and gently squeezes, smiling when I tremble, then slides it up to tickle my stomach.

"Oh, I'm still grinning because of that."

"So if I were to give you another one..."

"If?" I say dubiously.

"Okay, when."

"Much better."

"Thank you. When I give you another one-"

"You make it sound like a gift. That I should be... grateful. It's my right, baby! I exercise my right to demand multiple orgasms. It's in the Constitution."

"I think you have the right to an attorney."

"Oh what would you know, that's Miranda's right," I giggle. "And she's not here."

"Good thing too, otherwise I'd take off with her; I seem to be getting nowhere with you," he threatens.

"Excuse me? Did you or did you not have your fingers between my legs not five seconds ago?"

"Yes, and now they're having fun with your stomach. Don't disturb them."

"So really, any woman is as good as another? What are you, fifteen again?"

"Ooh, I'm insulted."

"That was my intention," I admit. "But only because you threatened that you'd take any woman and that I had no right to demand orgasms. If I wasn't lying down, I'd kick you good and hard."

His eyebrows rise in amusement. "Good and hard? How about hard and good."

"Either way, I'd kick you for being a womanizing Constitutional know-it-all."

"Your demands for orgasms aren't in the Constitution so you haven't got a leg to stand on."

"Of course not you silly man, I'm lying down and you're still sitting up which, frankly, is beyond reason. Although I do like the way you're tickling my stomach shouldn't we be getting to the actual sex part now?"

"In a hurry to go somewhere?"

"No, just a hurry to come again. That's not wrong of me is it?" I ask innocently.

"You've already had one tonight, don't be greedy," he admonishes and bends over to kiss me again, one hand sliding over my ribs to enclose my breast. The second kiss is better than the first, sweeter because I'm so incredibly relaxed. When we break apart he smiles at me and pushes the hair back from my forehead.

"You're an amazing kisser," he comments.

"I know."

"Modest too." I stick out my tongue and he grins again as his fingers lightly pinch a nipple. "You think that sticking your tongue out is supposed to annoy me?"

"Not so much."

"Because, now I've seen it, I'm just thinking about all the things you could do with it."

I raise my eyebrows and wiggle my tongue and he quickly kisses me again, thrusting his tongue into my mouth, allowing me entry into his. This kiss is hot. Desperate. My fingers twist through his hair trying to pull him as close as possible as I drag him down to lie next to me. I love the feel of his skin pressing against mine, the way our legs just tangle together so naturally. His lips leave mine and I let out a tiny moan as they move over my jaw and down my neck, once again to my breasts.

"Can I ask you something?"

He looks up quizzically, "Hmm?"

"What is this obsession you have with my breasts? Actually, what is every man's obsession with breasts?"

He stops, just short of reaching his target and frowns thoughtfully, "They look good."

"That's it?"

"They taste good," he adds and presses a wet kiss on one.

"It's skin," I say in disbelief.

"Well, I don't know then, it's the best I've got."

"Come on!"

"Can I ask you something?" he counters.

"Okay."

"Why do you like having them touched?" To prove his point he tweaks a nipple and I jump.

"I do not," I deny. "Breasts are just takeout for babies."

"More like home delivery," he quips. "And you do realize you've killed the mood here. I mean, how am I supposed to get any pleasure out of them now?"

"Maybe when you figure why they're so attractive to you you'll get your groove back," I tease.

"My... groove? Did you just call it my groove?"

"Yeah, sorry, would mojo have worked better for you?"

"Mojo? Oh, Donna, you are killing me here," he whines.

"So you've lost your moooojooooo."

"Yep," he nods. "Guess so." He rolls off to lie next to me and I prop my head on a hand to look at him.

"Is this something I can fix?" I ask.

"Well, considering you were the one to make me lose it..."

"I don't understand how asking you a question about my breasts could cause you to lose your mojo." I start stroking a fingernail across his chest. "You know, physically, you have them too."

"Oh, no. No, no no no. Do not say I have breasts unless you seriously want me to completely lose any remaining mojo."

"Oh, so you still have some hidden away?"

"Some," he admits as I slide my hand down his chest and over his stomach to the waistband of his boxers. He's staring at me intently, a half smile playing about his face as I slip my hand inside and curl my fingers around him.

"Plenty of life left in the old boy," I comment and lightly tickle the length but as my movements increase, he lets out a groan and drags my hand away.

"You might get the right to multiple orgasms, but I don't! So you're going to have to stop that right now. "

"I got your mojo back," I smirk.

"Okay, we have to stop saying mojo. And you must promise me never to call it an old boy again."

"I promise," I say and press a hand over my heart, watching with amusement as his eyes darken, "What? Oh this is the breast thing again, isn't it."

"I'm not admitting anything," he maintains.

"Do you not want to tell me what turns you on? How are we supposed to have a good time if you don't tell me what it is about me that gets your testosterone flying?"

"The whole damn lot of you turns me on, Donna. Do you have any idea how incredibly sexy you look just lying here in your underwear."

"You told me that already and I could be lying here without them."

"That may be sexier," he nods. "I might have to do some research though."

"Want me to take them off?" I'm feeling bold now, ready to play with him. Ready to do everything with him.

"No, I want to do it," he says, almost... nervously?

"Now? Now you're being nervous and shy? What happened to before when you used to knock on my door, shove me against a wall and have yourself buried in me banging away like a dog in heat, before we had a chance to say hello?" Oh, I've hurt him now. I can see the instant the words leave my mouth by the way his hands falter on my stomach and his eyes cloud over. "I'm sorry," I offer but he shakes his head.

"It's what we agreed on, Donna. Have I hurt you? If it's so bad why did you always let me in, why did you always let me fuck you? Because half the time you've been the one to call me and tell me you needed sex."

"Let's not do this," I insist. "Come on, you're Josh now. I know it's weird for us to play this little game but please." I don't want to beg him, but he's been Josh, he's kissed me as Josh, he's had his fingers between my legs. If he stops being Josh now, I don't know what I'll do.

He sighs and says, "The only thing that's weird with us is that our sexual relationship has been nothing but cold and detached fucking."

"That's the whole point of fuck buddies," I say defensively. "But we're not that anymore. Decide who the hell you are for tonight." I'm so confused now and I can't think straight. All this back and forth and I have no idea if he's himself or if he's himself pretending to be Josh or pretending to be someone else pretending to be Josh. I'm going cross-eyed and it's not because his hands have started exploring again.

"I'm Josh," he says firmly. "Honestly, truly - not going to change just because it would be all weird and awkward. I'm Josh Lyman tonight and we're going to do this properly; the way it should have been done from the start."

"Okay," I sigh then smile softly as a hand edges closer to my underwear. I know that any minute now he's going to drag them off and then there'll be no going back. Once he's seen everything I'm going to lose the upper hand in our relationship.

I can do this.

His fingers curl into the sides of the elastic and I close my eyes as he drags them down my legs and over my feet. And now I am completely naked.

Easy. This is easy.

I open my eyes to see him grinning and rolling my underpants around in his hands and all I can do is remember a time and a place before when Josh had my underpants in his hands and was playing with them in front of the staff. It was a fairly good thing I had been concentrating on the utter humiliation of having publicly dropped them because I would have completely died from the sight of him calmly threading them through his fingers. I'm not embarrassed now - I'm all warm and tingly as he examines the white cotton.

"Are they more interesting than me?" I inquire as a delighted smirk spreads across his face.

"No, but I'm surprised to see you didn't put your address and telephone number in here as well."

"Well firstly," I say with as much dignity as I can muster, which is not much, considering I am lying completely naked under his unwavering smirk, "do you think it's wise for me to have those details in there?"

"Probably not," he concedes. "What is the second part?"

"There wasn't room."

He explodes in a roar of laughter and I hold my hand out and wiggle my fingers. "Give them to me."

"Oh, no."

"Come on, if you're going to make fun of them, I want them back."

"No, I want to keep them," he dangles them teasingly just out of my reach and I make a mad grab. "Nuh uh, you're not getting them that easily," he taunts and climbs to his feet. I leap up and try to balance on the bed as I lean against him, scrabbling to snatch them back. I can't reach; his arms are too long and the surface of the bed is too uneven and I'm too afraid of falling over if I don't lean against him.

"Come on, be nice," I whine as I press my body closer.

"No." He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my nose and I can't help kissing him back. He's intoxicating; when his face is close to mine I want to cover it with kisses. Our lips meet again but I'm still trying to rescue my underpants from his grasp; every time I get close he moves them away and kisses me harder and I melt a little more. We're doing a mad shuffle over the top of the bed and the blankets are getting twisted and suddenly I catch my foot and lose my balance, tumbling onto my back.

"I win!" he gloats, still standing over me, laughing his head off as I glare up at him. "They're mine now."

"Fine," I concede sulkily. "But they're too small for you."

"Maybe I'll attach them to a pole and march into work tomorrow waving them like a flag."

"You wouldn't dare," I splutter, still breathless from the wrestling and the memory of his body pressed against mine.

"Oh, I'd dare all right," he smirks again and I narrow my eyes.

"If you want a war..."

"All's fair in love and war," he shoots back and waves my underpants in triumph.

"Oh yeah?" I lunge forward and hook my fingers into his silly cartoon boxers then with one swift movement, yank them to his ankles.

"Hey!" he screams as he tries in vain to stop me. "Not fair."

"All's fair," I remind him and give another tug, causing him to lose his balance and allowing me to pull them completely off. Quick as a flash I leap to my feet, standing safely on the floor this time, and shake his boxers mockingly.

"Do you realize I'm now naked too," he points out. "We're both naked in fact." He slowly crawls across the bed towards me.

"Yes. You look really good naked. I mean wow, check you out." I grin admiringly but I start backing away; the gleam in his eyes is worrying and I'm slightly afraid of retribution as he sits on the edge of my bed. "What should we do now?"

"I think you should give me my boxers." He dives at me but I bound under his outstretched arms and run into the hallway. It's dark out here, save for the lamp on the sofa table. I dash over and switch it off. He's only a few steps behind me but in the sudden darkness, he runs smack into the coffee table.

"Argh!"

I duck down and scuttle crab-like around an armchair and across the room.

"Donna?" he calls softly. "Donnateeeeeella. Where arrrrre you?"

I cover my mouth to hide my giggles. I have no idea why I'm acting like a giddy teen but this is quite possibly the most fun I've ever had with him. He's stopped calling my name and the room is now silent; my eyes haven't yet adjusted to the dark but I know the layout of my apartment. As quietly as I can, I crawl into the kitchen and curl up under the dining table.

My small apartment is not conducive to an impromptu game of naked hide and seek and this is the best place I can think of. I can hear him shuffling around now, muttering occasional curses as he crashes into various pieces of furniture. It's a good thing I escaped the feline presence when I moved into my own place otherwise he'd be stepping on a few tails and getting scratches to match the bruises from sharp corners.

"Donna?" he calls again and I hold my breath. He's entered the kitchen now, side stepping his way around the countertops and as his feet pass by me I reach out to grab an ankle.

"AHHH!"

"You scream like a girl," I laugh over my shoulder as I jump past him and run back to my bedroom.

"You are dead!" he threatens as he runs after me. "All this running isn't good for my bouncing bits," he laughs as he manages to catch up, pushing me down onto the bed.

"You shouldn't have anything bouncing," I say and reach to take hold of him to prove my point.

"Stop it." He's still laughing as he bats my hand away but my work is done and he's hard again and ready for me. Somewhere in the chase we've both lost our flags but it doesn't matter anymore. I slide back and pull him down to lie next to me. I start kissing him as I wrap my legs around his waist.

"Josh," I whimper breathlessly because I can't stop laughing and neither can he. I don't know why - because it isn't funny - but what we're doing seems so natural after months of emotionless fucking, and I realize what I'm feeling is feeling.

"You're so amazing," he whispers, kissing my neck again. I must remember to ask him if he thinks he's a vampire. With all the sucking I'm going to have some explaining to do if I don't wear a turtleneck tomorrow. His hands are skimming over my ribs and stomach and breasts, and mine are exploring his shoulders and back. Then I think maybe... maybe I'm ready now.

"You're even more amazing," I reply and then realize that while I'm ready to make love to him, I'm also ready to accept that he is Josh. He's acting how I always knew Josh would act and I'm not disappointed at all. The giggling and wrestling and rolling around; the games, the banter, and the ceaseless kissing and touching. This is how it is with Josh and I want it to last forever because it feels so right.

My previous embarrassment has segued into pure desire and I grab his hand and slide it between our sweaty bodies to grasp his hardness once again, encouraging him with a smile. He smiles back and presses a tiny kiss on the tip of my nose as I help guide him inside.

There are no words now, and no laughing anymore as he slides in to completely fill me up. I'm staring up at him and he's looking back at me, smiling stupidly, and I know my grin is matching his.

I want this.

Slowly I circle my arms around his back and wrap my legs around his waist. There's silence as he starts to move. It feels as though time has stopped and we're the only two people in the world and all those other silly clichés.

I want him.

Almost tenderly, he rubs his nose against mine and kisses me and it's warm and sweet and soft. But as his hips move faster and my nails scrape across his skin, the kiss deepens and our tongues are once again entangled. Soon we're gasping for air.

I want us.

He rolls over and drags me on top of him.

"You're stopping?" I cry in disbelief. "You have to be kidding me!"

"Not stopping," he gasps. "Just changing the position for you."

"Okay, now I know you really are joking." When he shakes his head I scowl and thump a fist on his chest.

"Ow! I want you on top because I want you to be in control."

"I thought you said you were in control tonight."

"I am in control and also in charge and I'm telling you to be on top."

"This has to be the most ridiculous conversation of my life," I shriek. "You can't just stop the rhythm midstream."

"Then start moving already. Here I'll show you." His hands settle on my hips and he starts rocking them back and forth. "Just keep doing that," he instructs. "Back and forth."

"You know, I have had sex before," I comment sarcastically.

"Not with me. This is the way I like it."

"Josh, this isn't exactly the way I expected you to have sex. You're the missionary type. Straight, not woman on top."

"How do you know what type I am. I've dreamed of seeing you on top of me."

"I guess your dreams are coming true then," I wiggle a little faster and he groans. "Wow, did you know your eyes just rolled up into your head?"

"Oh good God, are you trying to kill the mood again?"

"Just making idle conversation," I shrug as I lean forward, shifting my hips, causing him to slide deeper inside me. He's not big, but he's not exactly small either and I can feel every tiny twitch as he pushes upwards into my body.

"Why do you talk so much?"

"Why do you answer back so much," I retort as he grabs my arms, pulling me down so my breasts skim against his chest.

"Because it's fun to argue with you," he replies and kisses me, our tongues once again joining. I love this kiss; I love it because he's inside me with his tongue and inside me with his hardness and we're joined the entire length of our upper bodies and I feel as though I am a part of him somehow. I don't want this to end but I can't help rocking faster. I catch his moans with my mouth as his hands once again settle on my hips, urging me on.

I want forever.

The realization shocks me, but just for an instant. I always knew it would come to this. If I gave myself completely to him, there would be no going back. I'm right on the edge now and there is no going back. There never will be after I fall.

"Josh," I gasp. "I love you."

"I love you too," he whispers. "Let go, Donna," and I do, my fingers digging into his chest as the passion and the heat of the moment drown out the frustration of the day. The trembling in my body overtakes the sadness I feel because I can't help him, the love I feel but can never show.

I cry out and he covers my mouth with his to muffle the scream. I move a little faster and push against him a little harder until I feel his body stiffen under me. His moans mingle with mine, but I keep moving and only when his shudders subside do I slow down. I'm now so worn out from the day and from the emotions inside me that I collapse my full weight on top of him.

"Oof," he huffs in surprise and I roll off to let him breathe.

All of a sudden I feel tears well up and angrily I brush them away. "Sorry." I will not start crying now.

"Now why on earth would you be apologizing," he sighs, contentedly pressing little kisses over my shoulder.

"It's stereotypical of a female to cry after sex. I'm embarrassed I've sunk so low."

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm really not crying because of the sex." I feel I have to explain but I don't know how to say the words as he smiles and brushes the tears off my cheeks. The feel of his thumbs tenderly drying my eyes is so soft and delicate that I start to cry in earnest, ashamed but unable to stop.

Now that we've finished and the passion and heat is gone, all the emotions of today - of the week, the year, everything - spill out and I can't stop. He wraps his arms around me and strokes my back. It's soothing and safe. I snuggle against him and cry bitterly. I can't stop and he says nothing, he just continues to rub circles on my back as though I'm a little child.

"Josh," I wail. I cry for the man I love so much, for the man lying here comforting me, for the loneliness I'll feel when he leaves me, for the coldness I'll feel at work tomorrow.

"I know."

"I'm sorry," I apologize again.

"Don't be, it's okay." His hands are so calming that slowly my tears subside; slowly the emotions withdraw back into the deep recesses of my heart, hidden away safe because I refuse to deal with them until I'm ready; until it doesn't hurt so badly.

"You okay?" he finally asks, when I've been silent for awhile.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"No problem. I guess I should be thanking you for a good time."

"Shut up," I slap him lightly on the shoulder and he slaps me back.

"You shut up."

"Make me," I challenge and he pinches my left nipple.

"Not fair," I sulk and am about to pinch his in retaliation when something occurs to me and I moan, "Oh no."

He looks down at me, "What?"

"We didn't use anything."

"What?"

"We didn't use anything." I say with emphasis.

"I don't... ohh."

"It's okay on my end," I offer. "I mean, I'm on the Pill and there hasn't been anyone else but you for longer than I care to remember."

"I'm okay as well. You don't need to worry."

"I'm not, it's just..." I trail off. "Why did you do this tonight? Are you in love with me?"

"No. But Josh is."

"But you are Josh."

"Not anymore. Two minutes ago, I was Josh, the man you love. The man who loves you back but can't tell you because he's afraid."

I don't believe he's saying this to me. "What is he afraid of?"

"He's afraid of screwing up the best thing that's ever happened to him. He's scared stupid that you might get hurt because everyone in his life gets hurt. He's worried you might not feel the same; that people might gossip, that you might have a brief affair before a vicious break up and he'll never see you again. He wants you in his life forever, and at the moment the only way to ensure that is to keep you tethered as his assistant."

"I want more though."

"So does he. But he won't tell you."

"What happens tomorrow when we're at work? When I walk in and my boss is there and I'm treated as an assistant even though I've just spent the night making love to you? When I realize that you and I can't be you and I anymore because tonight you were Josh? I told you I loved you and you said the same. And we made love and I stupidly cried in your arms, but you comforted me."

"You'll cope. I have great faith in you."

"I won't see you anymore will I?"

"No," he confirms. "You and I are over now, Donna. I can't pretend to be the faceless guy you fuck and who fucks you to wipe away a bad day. Not after tonight."

Again, I let the tears fall freely. "I don't want to lose you."

"Hey, cheer up." He brushes them away with a smile. "You're only losing what you never really had. Tomorrow when you come into work, I'll be there waiting."

"Oh, now you're Josh again," I laugh half-heartedly.

"I always was Josh inside. On the outside, I had to be nameless and faceless. It was stupid, but it was the only way."

"You're right."

He grins, "You know, I love it when you admit I'm right."

"Yeah, it doesn't happen that often." I wipe my eyes and stretch my arms over my head. "Where do we go from here?"

"Well, I was gonna take a shower then go home."

"You come, you come, then you leave?"

"As always." He presses a kiss to my forehead.

"I don't want the fucking anymore. I didn't want it tonight when you first appeared. I haven't wanted it for a long time," I say.

"Me either," he admits.

"I wanted Josh."

"You get him at work."

I shake my head sorrowfully, "I want him here too. How am I supposed to go to work tomorrow and pretend tonight never happened?"

"Don't then. Tomorrow at work, I promise not to yell. I promise not to scream or throw things or spill my coffee. I promise to speak to you nicely."

"Thank you."

"And I promise when I come over tomorrow night - if you open the door - I won't be someone else anymore. I'll leave work as Josh and I'll stay as Josh when I ring your buzzer."

"So you're changing your ways and won't appear on my doorstep night after night seeking sex? After all the months of pretending you and I weren't really you and I - we were just the nameless faceless people who used each other to de-stress."

"Don't you understand, Donna? I wasn't pretending to be someone pretending to be Josh. I was me tonight. I came here because I wanted to make love to you. I didn't want to fuck you anymore. No masks, no games. Josh Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff, dimples, scars and hair that apparently you don't like."

"I like it now!" I exclaim, reaching up to wind a finger through it.

He bats my hand away and smiles softly. "You can't butter me up now, Donna, I know how your criminally evil mind works."

"Damn it."

He laughs and wraps his arms around me. "I'm sorry if I hurt you today," he whispers in my ear. "I'm sorry I took all my frustration out on you."

"Don't apologize. I meant what I said before. I wanted to help you but I didn't know how. I wanted to cuddle you and kiss it all better."

He rubs his nose against my cheek. "I think you did that tonight."

"I'm glad I could help you."

He pulls away and looks at me. In the half darkness I can't see much of his face but I know he's frowning. "It wasn't about the comfort tonight, Donna, at least not for me. I didn't come over just to be cheered up. I came to change things between us, I had a speech all planned but when you opened the door you looked so pissed off that I forgot what to say. The thing is, I'm not good at this - at relationships. At knowing what to do when you really, really like someone. I never learned, I just bumbled along and tonight I was kind of winging it for while. Then I realized that I just had to be myself and make you believe in me."

"Getting me to admit my feelings was clever."

He smiles smugly. "Oh, yes I know."

"As was the twenty questions about how wonderful you were."

"That was just ego," he admits. "But I got to see myself how you saw me. And it made me more determined to convince you that things had to change."

"Why didn't you just say you were sick of it?"

"I didn't want you to push me away. I didn't really know if you would accept me as me after months of emotionless fucking. We really need to stop using that word. It's not right for what we have."

"Yeah," I agree as I slide my hand over his chest and rest it on his scar. "I wouldn't have accepted what you said if you'd said it on my doorstep. But that little mind game you played? Getting me to picture you, describe you, making me feel this?" I trace a finger along the disfigured skin. "When I opened my eyes and looked straight into yours, I saw you there, waiting. I just wasn't ready to think of you in a different way after all this time, no matter how much I wanted to."

"Are you ready now?" He's staring at me, his eyes dark with desire, bright with hope, and I nod. "I want to kiss you, touch you. I want to love you," he whispers.

"And tomorrow..."

"Ah... tomorrow. I'm sorry but I won't be kissing you because that's inappropriate in the office. There might be a little touching but all very chaste and clean and innocent. I can't help it if I accidentally brush against you in the hallway and if my fingers slip, well that's just because I'm clumsy."

"What about the loving then?" I grin.

He wraps an arm around me and pulls me into a hug. "Are we talking physical loving or the other kind?"

"Well, the physical loving will happen after I open my door to you tomorrow night. The other kind..."

"The good thing about the other kind of love is that it belongs between only those that feel it," he says. "So they can have it all the time. Inside. No one knows but them - it isn't hidden but they're the only ones who'll see it," he places my hand on his heart and I feel it beating through the raised scar on his bare chest, "and feel it."

"You really want to change the nature of our relationship?"

"Yes," he smiles thoughtfully. "I want to expand it. I want to inflate it. I want to enlarge it. I want to increase it."

"Seven sixty verbal."

"I love it that you know so much about me."

"It's hard when you never stop talking about yourself," I remind him.

"You have to stop listening. Oh, wait hang on, as I recall you told me you don't listen. Especially when I... how did you put it? Ramble on."

"Yeah, you got me on that. I stopped listening years ago."

"Oh?" he raises his eyebrows in mock exasperation. "So if I say that maybe I'm ready to say I love..."

"You've already said it tonight. I heard you."

"Yeah..." he trails off nervously. "You know it's really late... perhaps I can stay here?"

"I'll make up the sofa."

"Oh, well I was hoping..." he looks down at the bed shyly, timidly - not at all like him - and I hide a smile. I really do love him and maybe now it's going to be okay with us.

"That would be nice, Josh," I agree and lean over to kiss the dimples that have suddenly appeared.