River

Irene leaned in until her face was less than half a foot from mine - I could smell her skin. Her clear, grey-blue eyes lingered on my mouth for a long second before her gaze met mine.

"Would you have dinner with me?" Her Victorian rose colored lips parted sensually as she spoke, and I nearly lost the meaning of her words in the movement of that criminal mouth.

"Yes," I answered simply, my own lips curving up into a small smile.

"Good," Irene nodded. "Saturday, 7:30 p.m.?"

"Don't be late," I said in way of consent. "I'll even let you pick me up," I added, as if as an after thought, peering at her thoughtfully. "I'll text you my parents' address - that's where I'll be Saturday afternoon."

Irene

"Kate!" I called, my voice a tad shriller than usual.

"Yes?" she asked a moment later, stepping into my bedroom. I paused in my restless pacing to look at her, my wild appearance perfectly portraying my state of mind. I wore nothing, my hair tumbled freely around my shoulders, and the doors to my enormous closet were flung wide open.

"Kate, I'm going...out. I need you to help me find something appropriate to wear."

"Appropriate for what? Is this a client?"

"No, no, Kate, out, I'm going out," I corrected impatiently, as if that should explain everything.

"Oh!" A look of comprehension bloomed across her face. "Your lady - with the hair." I managed a smile; my lady. I rather enjoyed the sound of that. And oh God, the hair.

"Yes. I'm picking her up in two hours, from her parents' house. We're going out for dinner at a respectable, yet private restaurant, and then..."

"And then?" Kate prompted, walking into my closet and flicking through dresses.

"And then we shall see," I answered vaguely, my lips pursed against a half smug, half hopeful grin.

I joined Kate in going through outfit after outfit, and was able to find something wrong with everything she suggested.

Too presumptuous.

Too much skin.

Not enough cleavage.

Too matronly.

Not sexy enough.

Too formal.

Homely.

Overstated.

Trying too hard.

Not sophisticated enough.

I may well meet her parents!

I ended up in a cerulean dress, a long, tailored black jacket, and black pumps. The dress was flattering while not screaming, I want to have sex with you. It had a modest sweetheart neckline, and was fitted to the waist, where it became freer and fell to my knees. However, the back plunged in an elegant "V" to just above my bum - hence the long jacket, for the beginning of the evening when I might meet River's parents. I had Kate do my make-up, though I kept it relatively simple; blue eyeliner for the top lid, black for the bottom, mascara, light bronzer, and scarlet lipstick. In fact, it was much the same as it had been the day I first encountered the enigma that was River Song; I knew she would pick up on the subtle gesture. After much deliberation, my hair ended up in an elegant twist at the crown of my head. And then I was ready to go.

River

As I dressed, I could not get Irene out of my head. Months of shameless flirting, teasing, and goading; of trading innuendoes, suggestive smirks, and blatant challenges. And of course, the downright obscene eye-fucking. At this point, her direct gaze was enough to make my skin crawl with heat. All of this culminating in tonight, when our carefully constructed, unspoken rules would dissipate. She was under my skin, in every thought. Her flawless, porcelain skin, flushed and warm where it met mine; her lithe, angular body beneath me. I shook my head in an attempt to clear it, restless with anticipation.

When I returned from changing into my dress for the evening, I found my parents speaking quietly in the kitchen. As soon as Amy noticed me, she stopped talking, which is how I knew they were discussing me. Not subtle, that one, I thought with fond wryness. With my rather impressive heels in my hand, I hopped on top of the counter, shooting my mother a wink.

"So," she began, shooting Rory a meaningful - and obvious - look, "going out tonight?"

"Yes, mum," I nodded sagely, playing along. "I met a woman." Amy squealed. "We're having dinner; she's picking me up in fifteen minutes."

"Do tell," she demanded gleefully.

"She's a nice lady with a stable, nine to five job and a pretty house." I rolled my eyes, and Amy sighed heavily, as if exhausted by my inability to answer a question seriously.

"Honestly, Melody. What's she like?" she pushed, looking up at me expectantly. When Rory turned his steady gaze toward me, I understood that he was asking me to kindly answer my mother, as well as that in his own quiet way, he was nearly as anxious to know as she was.

"Her name is Irene," I began, my brow furrowing slightly as I thought of how best to describe her to my parents. A lot of words and images came to mind, and while I found them captivating, they would hardly endear her to my parents. "She's focused, and quiet, with a very commanding presence. Clever. Indomitable. She knows people find her attractive, but no one has ever shown her that she's beautiful. And she matches me line for line, blow for blow, allusion for allusion." I glanced up at my parents to gauge their reactions. Rory was hiding a smile (knowing approval and amusement) and Amy looked worrisomely contemplative.

"Will she give me pretty grandchildren?" she asked after a moment.

"Mother!" I sputtered. "This is-" a chance to flirt with hands as well as words, time away from prying eyes, a time to find out what lay beneath the mask, shagging "-our first time out together, officially."