"Seriously, what is up with this music?" Josh wonders grumpily.

Toby gulps the last of his bourbon on the rocks, sets the glass back down. "I know. I'm trying to ignore it, but it's not easy when the bass line is drilling directly into my skull." His voice gets louder on the last word.

"It's like Chinese water torture," Josh agrees, and swirls the liquid in his own glass. He still doesn't quite understand how he and Toby got dragged along on this particular excursion. This was supposed to be an assistant type thing, Donna and Bonnie and Ginger and Charlie and a few others, a rare night on the town for the younger staffers. And then Josh and Toby just happened to be in the bullpen when the others were assembling and somehow they got swept away with the tide, borne along on a sea of long hair and glossed lips and heavy perfume.

Since their arrival at the club about an hour ago, he and Toby have been camped out at a table by themselves, drinking bourbon and watching their younger co-workers living it up on the dance floor.

Josh feels very, very old, but will never admit it aloud.

He scans the crowd again, his eyes traveling over the mass of writhing, fashionably-clad young bodies. He picks out Bonnie dancing with one of the local gomers, sees Ginger and Carol and Margaret dancing together in a semi-circle. He's glad to see them having a good time, but if he's honest with himself what he's really looking for is a distinctive fall of blond hair.

Finally he spies Donna near the edge of the crowd. She's dancing with Charlie, moving to the driving techno beat, and Josh feels something fillip deep in his abdomen as he drinks in the way her legs look especially long in the black miniskirt she's wearing, the way her breasts are high and firm underneath her form-fitting red tank. Her hair shimmers from side to side with the rhythm of the bass like a golden waterfall in the dimness of the club.

She and Charlie are both smiling widely as they dance close together, their hips rippling in harmony, Charlie repeatedly coming in close and then moving back out, his arms stretched forward to frame Donna's body as she shimmies across from him. It's erotic and innocent at the same time, their bodies painting a picture of desire but their faces showing friendly fun. Josh idly wonders what it would feel like to be in Charlie's place, his own body matching Donna's movements instead of the younger man's.

The music shifts to a faster, more pounding tempo, overlaid with an almost ethereal melody. Donna turns around so that her back is to Charlie and starts shaking her hips from side to side in time with the quickened drumline. Charlie grins and places his hands on Donna's hips and leans into her, mimicking her movements. He says something and Donna throws back her head and laughs, then places her hands over his and continues to gyrate her body in a fluid, sensual fashion.

Josh's mouth has gone dry and he can't take his eyes off of them, mesmerized by the contrast of dark skin against white, by the carefree, easy way they move together, by the inherent eroticism of the undulation of their hips. Now he admits to himself that he wants nothing more than to take Charlie's place, to feel the sway of Donna's hips beneath his hands.

Toby catches him staring. "Why don't you go out there?" he says.

Josh shakes his head quickly, trying to shrug it off. "I'm not going out there. I don't even want to go out there," he lies, sitting back in his seat and taking a swig of bourbon.

Toby shrugs. "Okay."

The problem, Josh reflects, is that Toby doesn't care enough about these things to nag him about it. Josh senses that he needs some nagging right now, but is in precisely the wrong company for that to happen. He fleetingly wishes Sam, or CJ, or even Will were sitting across from him instead. Then he looks at Donna and Charlie again and Donna's doing this thing where she shimmies down the length of Charlie's body and then rises back up again and good god.

He stands up abruptly, almost knocking over the table in the process, and Toby shakes his head in amused disgust. Josh ignores him and stalks out to the dance floor, bobbing and weaving around flailing couples, his eyes locked in on his target. Flashing lights swirl around him and the bass line feels like it's pushing his heart out through his back, but he doesn't see anything except Charlie and Donna.

Finally he reaches them, and they both stop dancing and look at him in surprise. "Can I cut in?" he asks Charlie, who smiles knowingly and gestures for him to take his place. Charlie grabs Donna's hand and squeezes it before walking away.

Donna still looks surprised but she doesn't look disappointed either, so he supposes that's a good sign. She starts moving again to the beat, her arms swaying at her sides, and waits for him to do the same, but he's suddenly self-conscious and wondering what the hell he is doing out here. He doesn't know how to dance, not like this. But he doesn't want to leave her.

So he reaches out and takes her hand in his. "Show me," he says thickly.

She nods in understanding and steps closer to him. "It's all in the hips," she says. He has already figured out that much. She takes his hands and places them on her waist, then starts dancing again. "Feel me," she says.

Jesus. He doesn't have to be told twice. At first he concentrates solely on the movement of her hips beneath his hands, getting a sense of the way her body responds to the music. Then he tries to duplicate it himself, essentially shaking his ass to the beat. He feels like an idiot, but as he studies the other dancers he doesn't seem out of place, and now Donna is smiling at him so he guesses he must be doing something right after all. Emboldened by his seeming success, he pulls her closer so that their pelvises are mere inches apart, and meets her eyes. She's wearing dark eyeliner and her eyes are almost cobalt in the strange strobe lighting of the club and she's never looked sexier.

Then she raises her arms above her head and tosses her golden hair to the beat and he has to revise his previous thought because now she's never looked sexier. He swallows hard and desperately thinks about baseball stats in an attempt to prevent his incipient erection.

She moves her hands to his shoulders and parts her legs slightly so that one of his legs is between hers, and they move in synchronicity back and forth, bodies just barely touching and then retreating again. The combination of the loud music and the flashing lights and the frenzied movements surrounding him lull Josh into a kind of trance where he feels almost disconnected from his body, his brain mesmerized by the sensory input and his body moving of its own accord.

The music changes again to a slower, more languid beat peppered with electronica riffs, and Donna turns around and starts dancing with her back to him, the way she did with Charlie. He slides his hands over her hips, lets them roam up to her waist and then down again. She reaches back to touch his upper thigh, resting her palm dangerously close to his behind, and gyrates further into him.

His primal reaction to her proximity is no longer under his control, and he can't imagine that she doesn't feel his hardness against her ass as she starts grinding against him. If she does, she makes no sign, just continues to undulate to the heavy beat. She tosses her hair so that her neck is revealed to him, a tempting expanse of ivory, and he wants nothing more than to press his lips there, to taste her salty skin on his tongue.

She turns back around and does that thing again where she shimmies down so that her face is nearly parallel with his crotch and then slowly rises back up, her lips parted, her skin glistening with sweat, strands of golden hair sticking to her skin and he can't take it anymore. He pulls her to him and kisses her hungrily, forcing his tongue into her mouth, his hands on her neck, and he doesn't hear so much as feel the sound she makes in the back of her throat.

She responds fully to the kiss, sliding her tongue against his, her hands coming up to tangle in his now sweat-dampened hair. Her mouth is so hot and wet he feels like he is burning and drowning all at once. The music pulsates around them as his hands start to slide under her tank. At the feel of his skin on hers she pulls back a little and he suddenly remembers where they are, in a public place, surrounded by co-workers.

Their lips part abruptly. They're both breathing hard, chests heaving. Donna touches her lips in wonder, then touches his. Her index finger lingers on his lower lip and he forces himself not to take it into his mouth.

Their eyes lock, searching for reassurance as to where to go from here. Donna must be satisfied with what she sees because she says, "Let's get out of here."

"Yeah." They make their way toward the club entrance, not bothering to say goodbye to their co-workers. Once outside Josh breathes in the heavy summer night air and sticks his hands in his pockets to conceal the erection tenting his trousers. "I have my car," he tells her. Donna gathers her hair up off the back of her neck to expose her sweaty skin to the mild breeze. He swallows hard as he watches her.

She lets her hair fall and pulls him to her, covering his mouth with hers. She kisses him thoroughly, then releases him. "Where is it?" she asks breathlessly.

He blinks. "Where's what?"

"Your car, Josh," she says impatiently.

"Right. The car." He shakes his head to dispel the heady fog encasing his brain. "The car...the car is over here," he says, and starts walking in the direction of his parking space. Donna keeps touching him all the while, sliding her hand over his back, along his waistband, up his arm. They reach his car, parked around the corner on a residential street and nestled underneath an expansive maple tree. He unlocks the car and moves to open the driver side door when Donna covers his hand with hers.

"Let's get in the back," she whispers, and kisses him again.

Her tongue in his mouth and her body pressed against his eliminate any last vestige of reason. Without removing his mouth from hers he gropes for the door to the backseat, pulls it ajar. Finally they stop kissing just long enough to tumble into the back seat, an ungraceful tangle of limbs. Josh pulls the door shut and settles himself on top of Donna, who is stretched out on the seat as far as space will allow.

They immediately start kissing again, and as she caresses his shoulders he moves his hands underneath her top and traces his thumbs along the underwire of her bra. She arches up against him and he responds by moving his hands up slightly to cup her breasts, feeling her nipples harden against his palms through the thin satin.

"Josh," she hisses. He moves his lips down her neck, tasting the remnants of sweat, then down to her clavicle, down to the beginning swell of her breasts. Her skin is sweet and salty with a slightly floral hint of perfume. She tastes like summer.

Donna reaches for his belt buckle and undoes it quickly and clumsily. When she reaches into his pants to grab his cock it's his turn to hiss, and he bucks against her involuntarily. Her hands are warm and smooth against his engorged skin and the feel of it sends sparks up his spine. He reaches under her skirt, thankful that she isn't wearing pantyhose due to the summer heat, and roughly pulls her underwear down, sliding the delicate material down her legs. Then they both attempt to push Josh's pants down, not an easy task within the confines of the car.

At one point Josh hits his elbow on the seat in front of them and lets out an aggrieved howl. Donna tries not to giggle and fails. He starts to pout, but then she kisses him again and the pain is forgotten.

He's on top of her again, her legs coming up around his waist, when he freezes. "I don't have any --"

"I'm on the pill," she says swiftly, and reaches down to guide his cock inside of her.

She's wet and ready and he pushes in slowly, taking his time about it, letting her adjust to him. Donna sighs and wraps her arms around his neck. "Finally," she says.

He's not sure if she's referring to tonight or to the entire span of their relationship, but either way he agrees. "Yeah." They share a smile, then he pulls out of her and slides in again, and they both gasp. "Does that feel good?" he whispers.

She closes her eyes. "Yes. Oh god -- Josh," she says, as he thrusts again. And again. Each time he enters her, her head and shoulders push back against the car door, and he worries that he's hurting her, but she doesn't seem aware of anything beyond the joining of their bodies. And so he gradually increases the rhythm of their coupling, moving more forcefully inside of her, half-wishing he had more room to try different angles and positions, but content to keep driving into her the way he's doing, watching her moan beneath him.

He knows he's getting close, he isn't going to last long after getting so riled up on the dance floor, and she feels so good, so hot and tight that he doesn't know if he'd be able to last long in any case. He puts more of his weight on his left arm and moves his right hand to between their legs, searching for her clit, then rubbing his thumb over the swollen bundle of nerves when he finds it. Her breath catches in her throat and she grips him tighter, her fingernails digging into his shoulders.

"Just like that," she breathes. "Oh god...oh god..." And then she's coming, contracting around him, her muscles milking his cock with excruciating pleasure. Her mouth is open and her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are closed and Josh is dumbstruck by the beauty of it.

"Donna," he whispers, and thrusts frantically into her, slamming her roughly up against the car door, until oh god he's coming too, spilling into her with a spasmodic jerking of his hips and a strangled moan.

His suddenly rubbery arms give out from under him and he collapses on top of her, their sweat-slicked skin making small sucking sounds as they hold each other tight. Donna places soft kisses on his cheek; he breathes in the scent of her and sighs.

"That wasn't how I imagined our first time," he says without raising his head.

"These things don't always happen the way you imagine they would," she says.

"Guess not," he murmurs.

A languorous pause, then: "So you imagined this, huh," she says lightly, and he winces. He should have known she wouldn't let him off that easily.

"Maybe," he says. "Maybe once or twice." He smiles at her soft laughter in his ear.

"Me too," she says throatily. "Once or twice."

"Where'd you learn to dance like that?" he asks suddenly.

"I did go to college for a while, Josh."

"Right. For a little while." She hits him on the back of the head. "Sorry." He runs his fingers up and down her side, enjoying the smoothness of her skin against his fingertips, tracing patterns on her flesh with drops of sweat. "So, how'd I measure up?" he asks.

"To what?"

"To your passionate imaginings of me," he says. He lifts his head slightly so he can look at her face; she's rolling her eyes but smiling at the same time.

"You did good, Josh."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He lowers his head back down next to hers, and they're silent for a moment, their breathing the only sound in the car.

"Donna?"

"Yes, Josh?"

"I am really uncomfortable right now."

"Me too."

"Plus it's hot as hell in here."

"Yes."

He sniffs. "Okay then."

They carefully extricate themselves from each other, groping for discarded clothing and performing feats of contortionism as they dress. Josh opens the car door and thankfully breathes in the rush of fresh air. Donna stumbles out after him and does the same.

"So," he says, looking at her.

"So."

"I'm very sweaty," Josh says.

She nods. "Me too."

"Maybe we should go back to my place and take a shower."

"An excellent idea," she agrees.

He grins. "And then maybe we could do that again."

Donna inclines her head, then leans in for a quick kiss. "I think I could be persuaded," she says.

"Good, 'cause I think it's safe to say my powers of persuasion are quite formidable," he says.

"As is the depth of your modesty," Donna replies.

He smiles at her. "Get in the car, Donnatella."

She smiles back and it sends a warm rush through him that has nothing to do with the weather. "Okay."

They get into the car and Josh turns on the ignition and adjusts the air conditioning. The cool air from the vents quickly dries the sweat on his body and helps clear his head. Beside him, Donna is fiddling with the radio.

"Please, no more dance music," he begs.

She shoots him a look. "That's not what you were saying an hour ago." But she leaves the radio on a jazz station, filling the car with the dulcet crooning of Billie Holliday.

"That's more like it," Josh says.

Donna inches closer to him; he takes one hand off the steering wheel to smooth her hair. She leans her head against his shoulder and sighs contentedly. Lady Day wraps them in her velvety embrace as they drive off into the night.

End.