Hello Scandal fandom! I've been lurking around here since I got caught up/fell in love with this show in August, and after much deliberation I've decided to throw my hat into the Scandal fanfic ring! This story is a whole bunch of firsts for me—my first Scandal fanfic (I've written for Bones and How I Met Your Mother in the past), my serious first multi-chapter fanfic (with actual plot, woo!), and most importantly, my first AU fic! I really hope I do these characters justice and if you think I do, won't you be kind enough to review?

Also, let's get this straightened out right away: I am 100% pro-Olitz, and this story will be Olitz for sure. However, I see no reason why Olivia can't be confused with Jake a few times while she's waiting for Fitz to get done being married to somebody else. I mean, is she supposed to just turn into a nun for the next who knows how many years? So many of you out there are such intense Jake-haters. Why can't our Liv have some fun while she waits? Sheesh. I like Fitz and Jake both.

Oh yeah, one last thing: this whole chapter is a prologue. The next chapter will have a time jump of a little over two years. I've actually got the first five (yup, count 'em, five!) chapters finished already, but I've been hesitating to post because as I write chapters five and six I keep going back and to tweak little details in chapter one. So there may be a bit of delay before I post the next chapter, but I can't see it being more than a week 'cause, you know, eventually I've just gotta say eff it and post already!

Anywho, without further adieu…Enjoy!

Prologue: All of the Things Edison Doesn't Like

Six o'clock. Olivia pulled her salmon out of the oven and tested a small piece of one fillet. Delicious. She had used the perfect ratio of lemon pepper to basil, and had left it to bake in the oven for just the right amount of time. Her rice and green beans were already finished, so she decided to leave everything in pots on the stove while she went to change. There was no sense in putting everything out on plates now. She didn't expect her husband home for another twenty or thirty minutes.

Six-twenty. Olivia lit the candles at the center of the dining table and admired her handiwork. The table was set; complete with the fresh flowers she'd picked up from the florist on her way home. She served the food onto plates and poured a conservative amount of wine into the two waiting glasses. Her husband didn't drink much—and didn't really like when she did—but she figured they could indulge for one night. It was date night, after all.

Six-thirty. She took another look at herself in the full-length mirror in the hallway. Her hair was flawless and she'd picked her husband's favorite shade of red lipstick. She hoped the ample amount of cleavage and leg her tiny black dress left on display would make him drool. It had been months since they'd had a date night. She could count on two hands the number of weeks it had been since they'd had sex. She was looking forward to this night so, so much.

Six-forty-five. Traffic. There must be traffic. Olivia paced the dining room in restless circles, glancing every few seconds at her husband's favorite meal growing cold on the plates. She should've left them in pots a little longer. She should've known there would be traffic. It must be the traffic. She ignored the familiar uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. He had promised her that he would be home. He was going to be here, any minute now.

Six-fifty. She turned on the news with the intention of catching the traffic report, but it was too late. The local news had gone off and the national news had taken over. She briefly found herself distracted by the dark, handsome anchor filling up her screen. I wonder if he knows what he's doing in bed. She shook her head and switched the TV off before her mind had time to conjure up a fantasy. She desperately needed to get laid. Her husband would be home soon. The uneasy feeling was getting just a little bit stronger, but she continued to ignore it. Her husband would be home soon.

Seven o'clock. The uneasiness had grown to dread. Olivia could no longer ignore it. She picked up the phone to call her husband, part of her still clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he would tell her about the traffic.

"Yes, Olivia?" that was how he always answered the phone nowadays. Before they were married it used to be "Hey pretty girl," or "Good afternoon, gorgeous." Now it was just "Yes?" and "What?" and "Make it quick, Liv. I'm working."

"Hey babe, are you close?" Olivia decided not to ask where he was. She was trying to stay positive, which meant she was going to operate on the assumption that he was on his way home.

"Close?" his voice sounded faraway and confused, and Olivia knew she was on speakerphone. She frowned.

"Yeah, to the house. I have your favorite meal all ready for you. How long 'til you're home?" she asked.

"Oh yeah, about that Liv. Just stick some in the fridge and I'll eat it when I get home."

And there it was. The feeling in the pit of her stomach escalated into full-blown sadness. Anger. Loneliness. Her husband wasn't coming home, again. He was effectively standing her up.

"Edison," Olivia by some miracle managed to keep her voice level, even though her emotions had just exploded inside of her, "You told me you would be home for dinner. I've been sitting here waiting for you for thirty minutes."

"Sorry, Liv," Edison said, but his tone didn't hold the slightest hint of remorse, "You can go ahead and eat without me. I got caught up at work and I'm going to be here for awhile."

"I set the table, I bought flowers, and candles," Olivia continued as if she hadn't heard him, pacing the living room furiously, "I did my hair, I did my makeup, I got all dressed up for you-"

"I've gotta get things straightened out for London, Olivia. I-"

"I asked you this morning if you would be home!" Olivia yelled, infuriated now. That was all that was ever important to him, his stupid job. "I asked you and you promised, Edison! I've barely seen you in weeks! I just wanted to have a nice night together, I wasn't even going to make you take me anywhere, I just wanted to-"

"Olivia, you're yelling and I'm working," Edison interrupted. Olivia could that tell he was unfazed by her anger, which pissed her off even more, "Can we talk about this when I'm not in the middle of something? I should be home around ten. Just put the food in the fridge and I'll warm it up when I get there."

"Ten o'clock? If you weren't going to be home for dinner you could have at least called me, Edison, so I didn't spend all fucking afternoon running around getting ready for our date when I could have been relaxing after work-"

"Cursing is unbecoming of you, Olivia. I'm going to hang up now-"

"Fuck you, Edison!" Olivia hung up her phone and resisted the urge to throw it, instead opting to stomp her feet on the floor and slam her fist into the doorframe. It was childish, but therapeutic.

She took deep breaths and stood in the middle of her living room for a few moments, willing herself to calm down. She was used to this, after all—well, not necessarily the getting stood up part, but Edison being absent in their marriage? Yep, she was used to that. Edison was the Chief Operations Officer of his father's foodservice company, Davis Corporation. Davis Corp was the foodservice provider of school cafeterias, sports stadiums, prisons, and other miscellaneous venues in forty-seven states and seventeen countries. Edison's position required him to make frequent site visits that would last weeks at a time, and to spend long hours in the office when he wasn't abroad. He had just returned from a three-week trip to London earlier that week, and Olivia had hardly seen him. That was why she'd planned their little date night. She wanted to see him for more than three minutes at a time while one of them was busily on their way out the door. She wanted to talk to him, to hear about his trip and tell him about her students. She'd planned a massage with his favorite scented oils for after dinner. And, damn it, she was a young, healthy twenty-six year old woman. She wanted to get laid. Her vibrator had seen far, far too much use these last few months.

And he didn't even have the decency to call when he knew he wasn't going to show up.

Olivia allowed a couple of tears to fall as she made her way to the dining room. She blew out the candles and picked up Edison's plate, bringing it to the kitchen and dumping it in the trash. She took the extra rice and green beans sitting in pots on the stove and dumped those out as well. On her way back through the dining room, she picked up her own plate and the bottle of wine and went to settle herself in front of the television, taking frequent, copious sips of wine straight from the bottle.

Leave his food in the fridge so he could heat it up when he got home? Think again, Edison.

Olivia finished her dinner and continued to work on her bottle of wine, not really paying much attention to whatever was on TV. She was restless. She was quite used to being alone, but the last year or so of her eighteen-month marriage had been the loneliest of her life. She needed a distraction. She needed to get out of the house. And she knew just who to call.

"Hello?" the redhead answered the phone sounding just as cheerful as ever.

"Abby I need a drink."

"What? I thought you were cooking dinner for Edison. That was tonight, wasn't it? You said it was tonight."

"I need a drink, Abby," Olivia repeated, not really in the mood to discuss how her husband was absent on a Friday night, again, "I just…I need to get out of the house."

Luckily, Abby had enough sense to know when Olivia didn't want to talk about it.

"Well, well, well," Olivia could practically see the devious smirk that was bound to be making its way across Abby's lips, "You've come to the right place, Liv. Whiskey Park sound good to you? Give me twenty minutes to change and I can be there in half an hour."

It wasn't until she was feeling the effects of her third margarita that Olivia was finally willing to talk about Edison.

"He stood me up, Abby!" she exclaimed, running her finger around the edge of her glass and bringing it to her lips, licking off the sugar, "My own husband! He stood me up! And I guess I shouldn't be surprised because he's never home anymore but I just…I don't know. I thought when I told him about dinner this morning he sounded like he was looking forward to it but I guess I was wrong."

"I can't believe he did that! I mean, I can tell you've been missing him lately but I thought it was just during the business trips or whatever. I had no idea that you guys hardly spend any time together while he's here. I'm sorry, Liv," Abby sighed, "The man's a moron. He clearly doesn't know what he has."

Olivia smiled self-deprecatingly.

"I don't know, Abby. Maybe I'm just not funny enough or smart enough or…or pretty enough," she took a huge gulp of her drink and squeezed her eyes shut. It was strong and she was definitely feeling a medium-sized buzz, which was probably why she was allowing words she had only ever thought to herself before come flowing freely out of her mouth, "Maybe I'm just not good enough to hold his attention. Maybe I should start ironing his shirts all the time and making sure all his meals are cooked just like he—"

"No! Olivia, listen to me," Abby interrupted, "Edison somehow holds onto ridiculous ideas of marriage that pretty much died back in 1955. It is not your job to sit at home barefoot and pregnant and cooking him meals. This is the 21st century! You have a career of your own that you love and you are good at and I, for one, am not about to sit around and let you start wiping Edison's butt every time he goes to the bathroom. It's ridiculous. And you know damn well that you are smart and funny and pretty and amazing, and he's the one who doesn't deserve you, not the other way around."

"I guess," Olivia mumbled, swirling her finger around the edge of her glass and licking off the sugar once more. Never in a million years had she thought marriage would be so…lonely. She and Edison seemed so good on paper. They met in college and he was nice to her and took her to fancy restaurants and bought her expensive things for birthdays and Christmases. He would cuddle with her when it was cold outside and stay in to watch movies with her when she had cramps. And sure, maybe she'd never felt any deep, all-encompassing connection to him, but he said that he loved her and she appreciated him for it. She loved him for it. Her mother was dead and her father hadn't really been around for the latter half of her childhood, but from what she could remember of her parents' relationship it was reasonable to assume that the deep, all-encompassing, passionate stuff didn't really exist, anyway.

She just never thought that she would, as a married woman, spend more nights sleeping in an empty bed than not. She never thought that she and her husband could coexist in the same home for days and not say more than 'good morning,' and 'goodnight,' to each other. She couldn't remember the last time either one of them had said 'I love you.' She never thought that her husband would fail to show up on a night that mattered so, so much to her.

"You know he wants to start trying soon?" Olivia blurted out after a moment of silently stewing in her thoughts. Abby glanced up from the text message she was typing.

"What like,trying, as in, trying?" she asked, "To get pregnant?"

"Yup," Olivia laughed humorlessly, "I don't know how or when he thinks it's going to happen, since it's now December 7th and we haven't had sex since the beginning of October-"

"You haven't had sex since the beginning of October?" Abby interrupted incredulously, "What? How do you function, Liv? I need to have a piece of David at least five or six times a week or—"

"I got it, Abby," Olivia made a face. David was Abby's current flavor of the month, and Olivia was sure she didn't need to hear any of the details, "I mean, Edison's been gone for a lot of that time. He just got back from three weeks in London and before that he was in Los Angeles for a while, but even when he's here he's just at work all the time. And he comes home so late and I always have to get up early so I'm in bed by the time he gets home and…I don't know, it just never happens. You know I spent like a hundred dollars on the bra and panties I'm wearing right now? I was so sure it was finally going to happen."

Abby clicked her teeth sympathetically as Olivia felt disappointment course through her veins once more. She downed the rest of her margarita and set the glass back down on the table. Abby raised her eyebrows.

"What? Edison doesn't like it when I drink…the wives of important C.O.O.s are too ladylike to get drunk, or some nonsense like that. But tonight, fuck him," Olivia glanced around the bar with the intention of flagging down the bartender, "I'm going to drink, I'm going to stay out late, I'm going to do all of the things he doesn't like…we should go dancing! This place doesn't have a dance floor…"

"Oh my gosh, great idea, because I was just about to ask you," Abby hit send on another text message and gave Olivia her undivided attention, "Quinn texted me a little while ago and said she, David, and Harrison are going to Sway or Gypsy or…I can't remember, one of those lounges in the Theater District. I told her I was with you and she asked if we wanted to join? I didn't respond yet, mostly because I thought you'd say no, but if you really are in the mood for dancing then we can join them."

"Yes!" Olivia exclaimed. Then she frowned, "But this time you can't run off with a hot motorcycle guy all night and leave me to fend for myself with some creep named Ivan."

"Liv, that was ages ago! Jeez, we need to get you out more. Just because you're married doesn't mean you can't have a little fun," Abby giggled, "And besides, I said I was sorry about that. I had no idea he was being a Stage 5 clinger."

"Yeah whatever," Olivia rolled her eyes as she reached for her purse, "Just don't let it happen again."

It had been at least six or seven months since the last time Olivia had set foot in a nightclub. In her opinion, they were too hot, loud, and sweaty, and, as a married woman for the last year and a half and someone in a committed relationship for the four years that came before that, she normally wasn't much for dancing. It was fun while she was with her friends, but after the first few songs they would inevitably pair off with someone of the opposite sex, leaving Olivia to fend for herself as a married woman amongst a sea of drunk, handsy men. She preferred to just hang out with her friends at a nice, quiet bar with a glass of wine.

Normally.

"Liv! Abby! You made it!" Quinn exclaimed, rushing to give them a hug as Abby and Olivia finally located her standing with Harrison and David at the bar, nursing what looked like a long island iced tea, "I was getting worried you wouldn't find a parking spot—nice dress, Liv! Spin!"

Olivia giggled—the effects of her several margaritas had yet to fade away completely—and obliged, turning 360 degrees so Quinn could get a look at the back of her dress. It was the same short, revealing black number that she had intended to wear for Edison earlier that night. Luckily, it was appropriate for both a sexy night in with her husband and a night out with her friends. She was wearing black heels that she hadn't exactly picked out with clubbing in mind, but they worked.

"Oooh la la," Quinn said admiringly as Harrison stepped forward to give Olivia a hug and Abby kissed David soundly on the lips.

"Hey Liv, you look hot," he greeted, giving her a peck on the cheek. The two of them had been best friends since high school and, even though they would occasionally play-flirt with each other, their relationship was strictly platonic. Harrison was practically her brother. "I can't believe Edison let you out of the house in that dress. If you were my wife I'd have you on lock. Can't have other dudes trying to get their paws all over you."

Olivia grimaced at the mention of Edison and closed her eyes, willing herself to just enjoy the warm margarita buzz she was feeling and not start thinking about Edison again. When she opened her eyes a few seconds later, it was to see Abby nudge Harrison and give him a 'not tonight,' look. Olivia smiled sarcastically.

"Oh Harrison, in order for Edison to keep his wife on lock he'd have to come home and see her for more than just five minutes every now and then," she said, "He'd have to not blow her off after she spent all afternoon getting ready for their date. Until then, his wife is free to wear whatever she wants, wherever she wants."

"Damn, sorry Liv. I didn't know it was like that," Harrison apologized, "You know I'm here for you whenever you need me. We can do dumb girl shit—go shopping, get manicures, hate on men, you know me, Liv."

"Thanks, Harrison," Olivia said, laughing at the idea of her friend in a nail salon. It would never happen, but she got the point.

"You're welcome. Now come on," Harrison rubbed his hands together and turned to face the bartender, "First drink is on Harrison. What'll it be, ladies?"

"I'll have what Quinn's having," Abby said, nodding to the long island iced tea in Quinn's hand.

"And I'll have—"

"Not wine, Liv," Quinn interrupted, "I will not let you stand here in the middle of the club and order red wine."

Olivia laughed again.

"I was going to say I'll have a Jack and Coke."

"Good. One long island, one Jack and Coke it is! Now grab your drinks and let's dance, ladies!"

Fitzgerald Grant couldn't keep his eyes off of the woman in the little black dress. He wasn't sure when she'd come in, but he had been lingering by the bar knocking back scotch and sodas for about an hour before he noticed her for the first time. She was approaching the bar with a tall redhead, and he couldn't help but let his eyes run over her tight, curvy physique. She was all soft chocolate skin, long shiny hair that fell past her shoulders in loose waves, and a short, black dress that wrapped around her body like a second skin. The short hemline of the dress combined with the strappy black heels on her feet left miles of leg on display, and the low cut neckline made her ample cleavage hard to miss as well. As he gazed at her from the other side of the bar, Fitz felt something hot stir low in his belly.

She was beautiful.

He was just trying to figure out if offering to buy her a drink would also seem like a good idea when he was completely sober when a brunette spotted both her and the redhead and waved them over. Hugs were exchanged—Fitz felt a sudden, irrational twinge of jealousy when the suave black man in the light purple button down wrapped his hands around her tiny waist and kissed her cheek, but after watching them interact for awhile longer he decided that they seemed to just be friends. The other man in the group almost immediately put his tongue down the redhead's throat, so he definitely wasn't a threat.

Fitz watched as someone said something that made her giggle, and his heart nearly stopped beating in his chest at the sight of her full lips breaking out into a smile. The bartender handed her a drink, and she headed off to the dance floor with her friends. Fitz followed her with her eyes until he lost sight of her, her perfect little body becoming a blur in the crowd.

Damn.

Fitz tried to curb the disappointment he felt and told himself that flirting with this girl was a very, very bad idea anyway. He turned back to the people he was with and tried to pay attention to the conversation, but he was distracted.

"Fitz, another scotch?" Stephen asked, finally pulling him out of his thoughts. Fitz and Stephen had been buddies for years. Fitz normally hated nightclubs—he was way too old for this shit—but Stephen was a few years younger than him, single and unattached, and somehow every couple of months he managed to talk Fitz into a night of insanity. Or, at least, it was insanity on Stephen's part. Fitz usually preferred to hang out by the bar and drink while Stephen got his grind on with some bimbo.

"Huh? Oh—yeah, sure," Fitz quickly downed the rest of the drink in his hand and set it down on the counter.

"What'sa matter with you? You haven't said anything in like fifteen minutes," Stephen observed, handing him the scotch and keeping a whiskey sour for himself.

"Nothing, Stephen, you know I hate this shit," Fitz said, mentally willing thoughts of the pretty mystery woman to leave his mind. It was useless, though, because no sooner had the words come out of his mouth than the mystery woman reappeared, emerging from the crowd with purple button-down in tow. Fitz watched as she set her empty cup down on the other side of the bar and signaled for the bartender to make her another. Stephen followed his gaze.

"Oh!" he said knowingly, "It all makes sense now. Drooling after a pretty girl, are you Fitzy boy?"

"Fitz? Drooling after a girl?" Fitz didn't have time to deny it before Daniel Douglas, a good and very drunk friend of theirs, joined them at the bar, "Come on, Fitz. When are you going to learn to play for my team? I would think you would learn your lesson after getting shackled with that frigid shrew wife of yours."

"Hey," Fitz said defensively, taking his eyes off of the pretty girl long enough to give Daniel a death stare. Not that Daniel was wrong—his wife was most certainly a frigid shrew—but Fitz was the only one allowed to call her that.

"Sorry, man, sorry," Daniel apologized, not sounding sorry at all, before he turned his attention to the bartender. Stephen, meanwhile, was staring predatorily at the mystery woman.

"She is beautiful. Mind if I approach, Fitz?"

"Don't!" Fitz said so forcefully that he surprised even himself. He knew what that expression on Stephen's face meant, and that woman was way too beautiful to become another one of Stephen's one-night stands.

"What? It's not like you can—"

"Just leave her alone, Stephen," Fitz interrupted as the woman accepted a drink from the bartender and her friend led her back to the dance floor, "I'm sure she's here to have a good time, not get taken advantage of by creeps like you."

"Fine. She's with someone anyway," Stephen smirked and looked around, zeroing in on a group of blondes a couple feet away, "I think I'll just introduce myself to them…"

Stephen walked away and Fitz glanced toward where his mystery woman had been. To his delight, she and her friend stayed close to the edge of the dance floor this time, and Fitz was able to keep her within his sight.

His delight was short-lived, however, and jealousy returned even stronger than before when her friend moved behind her and murmured something in her ear. She laughed and pulled on his hands until they settled at her waist, then began winding her hips back against him. Fitz actually made a growling sound before taking a considerably large gulp of his drink. He had thought that the man was just her friend, and the idea of him being more than that upset Fitz way more than it should have. He was married with children, after all, and he'd never even spoken to this woman before. He took another gulp of his scotch and relished the burn that spread down his throat and into his stomach.

He continued to watch the girl dance, his pants tightening a little as she continued her sensual winding against her friend. The part of him that was fueled by alcohol wanted to go over and punch the man in the face, but the rest of him figured that that was a bad idea. Then, just when Fitz thought he couldn't watch her dance with another man any longer, they stopped.

They subtly gestured to a cute Latina girl nearby, and Fitz's mystery woman gave her friend a little nudge with a smile. Fitz's heart soared as the friend approached the Latina girl, and they began to dance.

So he wasn't her boyfriend, after all.

The mystery woman watched her friend for a moment, then resumed dancing by herself at the edge of the crowd, twisting and winding her hips in time with the beat. Her eyes had fallen shut and there was a small smile on her face, as if she was thoroughly enjoying herself. Fitz had never seen anything more gorgeous in his life.

Do not go over there, do not go over there, he repeated over and over again in his head. Then he glanced to his left and saw that Stephen, too, had noticed that the mystery woman was dancing by herself. And the predatory smile was back on his face.

A knot formed in Fitz's stomach. He knew he wouldn't be able to handle seeing Stephen's hands all over that girl. Stephen had to be stopped. Shooting back the rest of his drink in one swallow, Fitz calmly set his glass down on the bar and started towards her.

He wasn't really considering the consequences of his actions. All he knew was that he had to stake his claim on her before Stephen did.

Olivia watched from afar as Harrison approached the girl she'd seen him eyeing all night and smiled happily when they began dancing together. Not that there was any doubt that she would say yes. Harrison was as smooth as they came, and in the twelve years that she'd known him Olivia had seen him charm the panties off of plenty of girls. He was being nice to her by staying with her once Abby paired off with David and Quinn found some hottie to dance with, but even in her mostly drunken state Olivia could tell that he really wanted to see some action of his own that night. And so she insisted that he go talk to that girl. She wasn't going to be a cockblock.

Harrison and the girl disappeared into the crowd and, satisfied, Olivia resumed dancing on her own. She loved dancing, she loved this song, and she was just drunk enough to not mind that she was flying solo—none of her friends were in sight.

She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the alcohol humming through her veins, allowing her hips to wind and spin to the music on their own accord. It had been so long since she'd done anything like this. She felt good, she knew she looked good, and she just wanted to keep on dancing and feeling this way for the rest of her life. She'd silenced her phone long ago—no thoughts of Edison were going to pop up and ruin her good mood. If it couldn't be date night, then tonight was going to be her night.

Suddenly, without warning, a pair of large, firm hands spanned her hips. They were too big to be Harrison's—and he would never grab her so assertively like that. Olivia's eyes flew open as she felt a pair of lips near her ear.

"Dance with me, beautiful?" the words were murmured hotly against the shell of her ear, causing an unexpected, involuntary shiver to run through Olivia's body. She spun around instinctively, ready to tell the man behind her that—much as she might like to have a nice, strong man hold her close right about now—she only danced with her husband. But she found herself looking at the warmest pair of blue eyes she'd ever seen, and the words died on her lips.

He was gorgeous. Tall and muscular with dark, wavy hair and perfect lips that Olivia felt the deep, primal urge to run her tongue over. He was casually dressed and, close as he was, he smelled of scotch and musk and man. Something about him just oozed pure sex, and Olivia instantly felt her core melting. His eyes were the worst. They were the sharpest, most piercing color of blue she'd ever seen, and she somehow felt that they could see right through her. Except, they seemed upset and suddenly Olivia realized that he was withdrawing his hands.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "I just thought—"

"Don't," Olivia interrupted, placing her hands over his to keep them on her hips. His blue eyes darkened lustfully and she thought it was the most erotic thing she had ever seen. A smile formed on her lips as Vogue by Madonna began blaring though the speakers, "I love this song."

And she turned her back to him.

He was dancing with her. Fitz couldn't believe it.

Half of him was shocked that he actually had the balls to approach her, and the other half of him was shocked that she hadn't rejected him. When she whirled around to face him he could see from her icy expression that she was about to kick him to the curb. But then, just as he was about to apologize, she…didn't. Her expression melted and she showed him the biggest, softest chocolate brown eyes he had ever seen before her pretty little lips widened into a smile that he couldn't help but think of kissing off. She placed her hands over his and pulled them back around her waist.

"I love this song."

She led him deep into the crowd until he could no longer see Stephen or the bar, and then, they were dancing. Song after song, the sight of her body moving in front of him was the single most erotic thing he had ever seen. During the third song he used his hands on her hips to manipulate her movements until there was no more space between them—her body sliding and undulating sensually against his. She smelled amazing, and Fitz couldn't help the distinctive tightening in his pants. She didn't seem to care—in fact, by the fifth song he was positive that she was deliberately grinding her ass against his crotch. The little minx.

Fitz lost track of how long they were dancing. They continued on like that, creating the sweetest friction with each other's bodies, for what felt like hours. Then his beautiful vixen placed her hands over his again. This time she seemed to be pressing them upward.

Taking the hint, Fitz slid his hands up her curves, over her tiny waist, and stopped them just below her breasts. He had never in his life wanted so badly to touch a woman's breasts as he wanted to this one in his arms, but something held him back. He wasn't sure if he truly had permission. But then she tossed a smoldering look over her shoulder at him and beckoned him with her finger to lean in closer.

He obliged, powerless to refuse her, and leaned his head forward until his ear was in front of her red tinted lips. They parted, and he felt her warm breath whisper across his ear as she spoke.

"Come on, baby, will you touch me ple—ah!" a breathy gasp escaped her lips and her back arched against him as he gave her exactly what she wanted, sliding his palms upwards until he was cupping and kneading her soft breasts through the material of her dress.

"You like that, beautiful?" Fitz growled, his lips in her ear now. He couldn't help but dart his tongue out from between his lips and nibble on the sensitive skin there. He smirked as her dancing faltered and her body temporarily buckled against his, "You like this, don't you?"

"Yesssss…" he heard her purr as he placed hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of her neck. She regained her rhythm and ground her backside against his now full-blown erection. Fitz groaned and pushed into her, unable to help himself.

"What else do you want?" he asked, tearing one hand away from her pliant breasts and sliding it down, down her body, past where it had been resting on her hips earlier and letting it linger along the short hemline of her dress. He smiled against the skin of her neck as her thighs parted in invitation. The answer was obvious, but he needed to hear it.

"Tell me what else you want, pretty girl," he slid his mouth back up to her ear again and licked it. Her head fell back against his chest as she ground her hips against him once more.

"I want—I want…" she was speechless, or he couldn't hear her over the music, or maybe both.

Fitz glanced around and saw a door against the back wall of the dance floor, off to the side and out of the way where hardly anyone would notice it. Without thinking, he grabbed her hand and dragged her over to it. It was unlocked, and Fitz opened it to find a dark storage area. He stuck his head in and looked around—there were a couple of boxes, some chairs, and a small table—before he pulled his mystery woman inside behind him and, with a swish of his fingers, locked the door.

Olivia didn't know what was wrong with her.

She had never done anything like this before, ever. She was the perfect wife. She waited dutifully at home for her husband to return from his business trips. She never stayed out too late. She never drank too much. In the five-and-a-half years since she'd been with Edison, she'd never accepted an invitation to dance from a stranger. And she'd certainly never dirty danced with anyone. She'd probably never been so promiscuous before in her entire life.

But for some reason she found, as she led her newfound partner deeper onto the dance floor, that she didn't give a fuck about any of that.

Maybe it was because of the alcohol in her system. Maybe it was because she was so sick of Edison disappointing her over and over again. Maybe it was because of the man with the heart stopping blue eyes dancing behind her, making her feel all sorts of things that she had never felt before.

He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

She made a feeble attempt to keep space between them, but that didn't last long before he had her flush against him. His hands gripped her hips as she slid her body against his, and she could feel his powerful erection pressing against her backside. There were no warning bells in her mind. Edison was long forgotten.

She danced with him for what felt like hours, enjoying the sweet friction their bodies created. He was so strong and hard behind her. He smelled like pure man. Everything about this stranger was a complete turn on.

Olivia could feel liquid oozing between her thighs, and her breasts were tight and heavy. She ignored it for a while, but her breasts began to feel exceptionally sore and achy, like no one had paid them any attention in weeks—because no one had. Rubbing her body against this stranger was doing nothing to ease the sexual tension that had been building inside her for months. Olivia closed her eyes and thought about how nice it would feel if he just slid his hands a couple of inches higher.

She placed her hands over his and pushed upward, not so subtly trying to encourage him to do what she wanted.

The next few moments were a hazy blur of absolute want. She couldn't control the words, phrases, and moans that were coming out of her mouth as he did exactly what she wanted, or how good it felt to just have him squeeze her sensitive breasts. He was licking and kissing her neck, and she actually had a moment where her knees just would not support her and she buckled back into him. She had never felt like this before. Never, not even when she had first begun to date Edison, had he so thoroughly turned her on. The blue-eyed man behind her was touching and kissing her, and she could hear herself panting and moaning as she vaguely heard him ask her what she wanted.

"I want—I want…" Olivia thought hazily to herself that she wanted whatever this man was willing to give her, but she could not furnish a coherent sentence. His fingers were playing on her thighs, and she wished he would slip them underneath the hem of her dress.

Suddenly, he grabbed her by the hand, and before she knew what was even happening she found herself inside a small, dark room—a closet, maybe?—that had magically appeared off to the side of the dance floor. She heard him lock the door behind them, and all she could think was that this man—this absolutely beautiful man—was finally going to give her what she needed.

No sooner was she inside the little dark room than Olivia found herself pressed against a wall, her legs instinctively wrapped around her stranger's hips as his erection settled between them. He lowered his face to hers and stopped when their mouths were just centimeters apart. Olivia looked at him through wide brown eyes to find that he was staring at her intently, his lusty blue eyes taking in every detail of her face.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," he murmured, before capturing her lips with his.

Olivia moaned and let her eyes flutter shut as he immediately ran his tongue along her lips. She opened her mouth instinctively and his tongue sought hers, coaxing it gently out of her mouth and into his. God, he tasted delicious, like scotch and something else—something dark and inherently male. Olivia wrapped her arms around him and ran her fingernails along the base of his neck as she let everything go, kissing him with every ounce of passion she possessed and enjoying the warm, tight sensations pooling in her lower belly. He was getting her so wound up. It had been such a long time since she'd felt release, and now she thought she needed it more than she needed her next breath.

Without pausing the kiss he hiked her dress further up her waist, exposing the soft skin of her thighs and her delicate red lace panties. He slid one hand back up her side and squeezed her breasts again. Olivia moaned into his mouth—she couldn't remember her breasts ever being this sensitive before—and, distracted, she didn't even realize that he was using his other hand to unzip his pants until he slid them over his hips and pressed his stiff, boxer-clad erection right into her core. Instinctively, Olivia crossed her ankles behind his backside and used the leverage to grind herself down onto him. He groaned and tore his lips away from hers; pressing wet kisses down her neck and across her collarbone.

"Keep dancing," he whispered then, pausing to nibble at the particularly sensitive flesh where Olivia's neck met her shoulder.

"What?" Olivia was on such a high she could hardly comprehend words.

"Keep dancing," he repeated, "You can hear the music. Keep moving your hips. Your body moving like that is the sexiest thing I've ever—ahh," he groaned as Olivia obliged, rotating her hips in tune to the music that was still pulsing through the walls, "Yes, baby, just like that."

Olivia whimpered at the feeling of her center grinding on his erection with only her panties and his boxers separating them. He circled his hips up every time she ground hers down, and they found a hot, steady rhythm that had Olivia's eyes fluttering shut and her toes flexing in her high heels. He recaptured her lips and they swallowed the uncontrollable sounds coming from each other's throats, their tongues matching the rhythm they'd created down below. Olivia tightened her arms around his neck, tunneling her fingers in his hair and holding on for dear life as her body moved with his. This was the most exquisite pleasure she had ever experienced.

Suddenly he shifted her in his arms and changed his rhythm, thrusting his erection hard against her hot, wet core. Olivia ripped her mouth from his and let out a throaty moan as he did it again and again, and she felt the lips of her pussy tighten and quiver every time.

"God, I like that. Please don't stop, baby, please don't—"

"You gonna come for me, pretty girl?"

"Yes," Olivia cried breathlessly as he pushed his cock against her harder and faster. A smoldering burn spread from the pit of her stomach throughout her entire body, intensifying at the apex of her thighs where he was hitting and rubbing her just right. She buried her head somewhere in his neck and screamed as her orgasm hit her, his lips at her ear murmuring words she couldn't understand as she erupted against him.

He slowed his pace but didn't stop moving, continuing to rock his hips into her as she rode out the strongest orgasm of her life.

"God, you are beautiful," he said when she finally raised her head to look at him, still feeling little tremors throughout her body. She hardly noticed that he pushed his boxers down his hips until his fingers slipped underneath the waistband of her panties and gripped hard, tearing them off as easily as if they had been made of paper. And then he was inside her.

She gasped and tried to let her head fall forward again but he caught her chin in his fingers and forced her to look at him. He was breathing hard, holding himself still inside her until he was sure her body had adjusted to the size of him, his blue eyes focused on her face.

"Say Fitz this time," he commanded.

"What?"

"I want to hear you scream my name when you come. It's Fitz. Say Fitz."

"What makes you think I'm going to come again?" Olivia had never in her life had multiple orgasms. With Edison, she was lucky if she got one orgasm. And she had never had an orgasm as intense as the one that had just wracked her body.

Fitz smirked.

"This."

Olivia screamed again as he gathered her legs in his arms and took off, practically pinning her knees to the wall as he pistoned his cock deep into her pussy as fast as he could. Olivia could do nothing but arch her back and dig her fingernails into the side of his neck as he pounded her over and over again. Her legs were shaking and her core was tightening and she knew he was right—she was going to come again, and soon—as she felt hot liquid dripping out of her around his hard dick. Fitz let his head drop to her shoulder and began placing hard kisses on her skin, marking her everywhere. The noises coming from his throat were the most erotic sounds she'd ever heard.

"Tell me your name, gorgeous," he demanded suddenly.

"Olivia," Olivia, who never gave out her name to anyone, obeyed without a second thought.

"Olivia," he repeated, letting his hands drift down between them. He found her clit and swirled it, circled it expertly with his thumb, propelling a loud cry from her mouth, "You are going to come again, Olivia. Right now. Come for me right now."

And she did, his name tripping off her lips over and over again as her whole body tightened, stiffened, and then exploded uncontrollably. Her pussy throbbed, her legs shook, her fingers trembled, her stomach quivered as she was hit by wave after wave of incredible sensations, unable to do anything but submit to them. If her first orgasm was amazing, then this one was absolutely mind-blowing. She heard a deep guttural sound as Fitz lost his rhythm, pumping erratically into her clenching core as his own orgasm overtook him. She felt his dick pulsing and his hot seed spilling inside her as she thought foggily to herself that this was the best sex she'd ever had in her life.

She was still trembling minutes later when he slipped out of her and gingerly set her down. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, willing her breathing to return to normal as she listened to the sound of Fitz fixing his clothing and zipping his pants.

Her thighs were sticky and she felt his cum oozing out of her. It was a strange sensation, one that she'd only experienced a few times years ago, back when Edison still wanted her badly enough to be careless about birth control. Edison.

"Oh my God," her eyes flew open at the thought of her husband, who was most likely furiously trying to figure out where she was right now. She had effectively forgotten about him as soon as she started dancing with Fitz. She hadn't felt a single fiber of hesitance or guilt as she cheated on him.

Fitz looked at her, casting those compelling blue eyes down her thoroughly satisfied figure before settling on her face. He frowned at her, and she could see in his eyes that reality was starting to creep back in for him, too.

"I know," he said, as if he understood exactly how she felt, "But wasn't that amazing?"

He reached for her then, and Olivia watched in surprise as he began straightening her dress and combing his fingers through her hair. She sighed and allowed him to take care of her for a moment before she noticed the red smudges of lipstick all over his face and smoothed her thumb over them, attempting to wipe them off. He smiled at her and somehow—incredibly—her stomach still fluttered.

"Lipstick," she told him softly, letting her hand rest on his cheek for a moment before pulling away.

"I think we both need a trip to the bathroom after this," he said with a chuckle.

"I don't usually do things like this," she said suddenly. "My friends…they can't know."

"Why?" he eyed her curiously, "Is purple button-down your boyfriend?"

"Who?" Olivia asked, momentarily confused before she realized he must be talking about Harrison, "Oh, Harrison?" she laughed, "No, no, he's not my boyfriend…"

"Good," Fitz said possessively, and at Olivia's expression he added, "I was watching you dance with him, before I got up the nerve to approach you."

"You were watching me?"

"Of course. I told you you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I meant it," he cupped her cheek and kissed her once, twice, tenderly, and Olivia again felt her stomach flutter.

"I have to go," she whispered.

"I know," he kissed her one more time before he let go of her and stepped back. Olivia stared at him for a long moment, trying to figure out what it was that drew her to him, what it was that made her not want to leave him. Then Edison's face appeared in her mind and, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, she turned her back on Fitz and left the room.

A/N: Uh oh! Olivia and Fitz were naughty! That one was a doozy, no? Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think!