It's been done, but here's my take on it. This takes place some time after The Power of Madonna, but before Jesse's character was irreparably destroyed. Worry not, I'm still working on the Head Over Feet sequel.

She has meticulously planned everything. She's carefully selected the day, a Saturday, normally a day she would avoid, but her dads are at an all-day seminar in Akron. She's cleaned her room, changed her sheets, finally decided on her outfit. All she needs is for Jesse to get there.

When he rings the doorbell, she's literally been standing by her bed, waiting for five minutes. There's nothing else to be done. She's ready, she thinks.

She yells to him that the front door is open, and she hears him lock it behind him before he climbs the stairs up to her room.

"Hey," he greets her casually, depositing the drug store bag with supplies he has brought on the bed. He takes in the fact that she's seemingly paralyzed, plants a reassuring kiss on her forehead.

"You okay?"

"This feels wrong."

He rolls his eyes at her, but there's a smile on his face. "Stop being a drama queen. It's not."

"It's illegal."

"So is murder. People do it everyday."

"Jesse," she whines, "Be serious."

"I am. It's not that big of a deal."

She crosses her arms, glares at him.

"Come on Rachel," he says exasperatedly, placing his hands on her shoulders. "We've had this same argument every day for the last week. Are we doing this or not?"

He doesn't get a reply so he tries a different approach to convince her.

He kisses her left cheek.

"Your dads won't let you."

Then her right cheek.

"You're dying to."

Her lips.

"We're finally alone, and I have everything we need right here."

He can tell he's getting through to her.

"What exactly do you have?" she asks as she tries to peer into the bag.

"Sour Patch Kids, Jujubees for your Dirty Dancing obsession, Cracker Jack, and of course, your favourite, Teddy Grahams."

"Where is it?"

He scrounges for and then holds up the DVD case. There's no identifying information on it at all. Its whole appearance screams illicit content.

She breathes out, starts talking in a rush. "I feel like I'm betraying the theater, Broadway, all of my idols, everything that I'm working towards."

"If you could have bought a ticket, you would have. Don't feel guilty."

He holds the DVD case just out of her reach, taunts her in a sing-song voice. "Watch me, Rachel. Watch me."

It's her turn to roll her eyes, but she's already sold.

She's listened to the soundtrack endlessly for the last month. She knows all the words by heart. She's read the summary on Wikipedia, been on the message boards. She knows the plot, she just wants to see it. She wants to place music with context, wants to witness as well as hear the emotions behind the songs. Wants to see what all the fuss is about.

There's no shame in that. Right?

"Okay," she whispers.

He raises the DVD to the air in a gesture of victory before walking over to her TV to put it in.

She gets comfortable on her bed, waits for him to join her.

"Its' not the best quality," he states apologetically, "But it's better than nothing."

She nods, past the point where it matters.

She sings along quietly with all the songs. It's funnier than she thought it would be, and she finds herself laughing out loud with him during a couple of scenes.

He's seen it before, and at times she catches him watching her reaction to the show rather than watching the television. It makes her blush.

She looks disgusted during most of the scenes with the boys, and he laughs at her scowls. He makes up for it, though, by linking his fingers with hers during Touch Me, then placing his arm around her during The Word of Your Body. She leans her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes during the beating scene, the sounds of the dialogue enough to stimulate her imagination. When it's over, he runs his fingers soothingly through her hair.

She tenses when it becomes obvious that the love scene is coming up, her body alert.

They watch in almost absolute silence. She's not even sure she's breathing. She's too focused on the screen to realize that he is looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

The screen fades to black, the end of the first act, and she can actually feel her whole body release the tension.

He pauses the disc.

She tries to put her feelings into words. "I thought I would be upset. He obviously takes advantage of her complete lack of knowledge and her innocence just to satisfy his own desires, but I never thought that it would be so …" She searches for the word but doesn't know how to complete her sentence.

"Erotic?" he suggests quietly.

She nods, her face flushing, and she can't bring herself to look at him.

"They've freed themselves from society's restrictions and beliefs, Rachel. In that moment, all they feel is the pleasure of being together. No rules, no regrets, just simple, naked pleasure. It's how we all wish we could be. That's why it's so beautiful."

He restarts the DVD, and they watch as the couple makes love again.

She reaches between them for the remote, hits pause.

"Jesse," she murmurs without looking at him, "I want you to touch me like that."

"What?" He's whispering too, wanting to make sure that he didn't dream up what he thought she just said.

"You heard me." She turns on her side to face him, places her palm on the side of his face. "Please. I want to experience that … that pleasure … with you."

"Are you sure?" he breathes, disbelieving.

Instead of responding, she kisses him, grasps his hips to pull his body against hers.

Her nipples harden and she feels a pulse she's never felt before beating steadily and forcefully between her legs. She's never wanted anything more than she wants this.

She hears herself moan as she tries to press herself even closer to him. At the same time, she feels a sense of frustration that he's not doing much of anything.

"Jesse," she pleads, reaching for his hand and placing it over her breast, desperate for something.

Hearing his name fall from her lips like that shocks him into action. He shifts so that he is on top and moves his hand down her body, pulling her sweater out of the waistband of her skirt.

He reaches behind her back with one hand to unclasp her bra and she feels his hands on her breasts for the first time. He lightly dusts each one and she cries out when his thumbs draw circles across her nipples. They are so hard its almost painful, but she arches her back towards him as he does it again and again.

He moves to kiss her neck and collarbone as he continues his assault on her breasts. He grows impatient with her sweater, and he sits back, temporarily separating them. She makes some sort of inarticulate protest, and she swears she hates him when he has the nerve to smile.

He pulls her up to a seated position and slides the layers off her heated skin. She hears him tell her how beautiful she is as, with one finger, he maps a path from her face to the undersides of her breasts. He pushes her gently back onto the bed and leans into her, retracing the path with his mouth, finally closing his lips around one of her aching peaks.

She's never felt anything as intense as this and the feeling is only heightened when she feels his hand trailing up her calf, then under her skirt, tracing circles on her thigh. She starts to squirm in anticipation, and her legs open instinctively, inviting him in, directing him to the place she needs him most.

He releases the nipple his mouth had held captive, kisses between her breasts and then down her stomach, his tongue dipping into her belly button before he outlines the waistband of her skirt.

There, against her skin, he asks her if she is sure again, fingers brushing against her underwear so she knows exactly where he intends to go.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes," she almost screams, dying for him to continue. Nothing has ever felt this good, ever.

He begins to stroke her through the silk of her panties and she presses herself eagerly into his fingers, silently demanding more. When he finally slides past the elastic and begins to explore her with two fingers, she starts to shake, silent sobs of pleasure racking her body.

"Jesse," she moans again and again, begging him for the release that feels so imminent.

"Just let go, Rach," he whispers against her lips. He wants to experience her orgasm just as much as she does.

His words serve as her undoing. She feels ecstasy travel in waves through her body, the pleasure going on and on for what could possibly be hours, she's lost all sense of time.

She feels his fingers slide out of her and she watches, barely conscious, as he raises them to his lips, licking them clean with his tongue.

He's not even close to satisfied and he can feel his dick twitch in his jeans, but that one taste is all he will allow himself.

Today was about her. He owes her that much.

He moves off her and lies on his side beside her, watching as she comes out of her oblivion. She reaches for him, kisses him passionately as she runs her hands through his hair and down his chest.

She tugs at his shirt, desperate to feel his naked skin against hers.

"Rach." He needs to warn her, to tell her that she can't continue this or he won't be able to stop.

"This is real life, baby. You can't take this back."

She shakes her head, her words hard to get out. "I want this," she assures him, pausing for breath. "No rules. No teams. No competitions. Just us."

It's all the convincing he needs. He unzips her skirt, and takes it and her panties with him as he leaves the bed to remove his own clothes, grabbing a condom from his wallet before he throws his pants to the floor.

He returns to her, presses his hardness against the smooth skin of her stomach. She reaches for him, tentatively curling her fingers around him and moving her hand in slow strokes.

He drops his forehead to hers, his entire body trembling as he enjoys her attention. When he can't take anymore, he shifts, closes his mouth around her nipple and pushes into her.

He feels as well as hears her gasp of pain, and he leaves her breast to whisper apologies against her lips. She recovers quickly, arching up to meet his thrusts, and soon she is sharing in his pleasure, both of them coming within seconds of each other.

Afterwards, she hugs him to her with both her arms and her legs, whispering to him how much she loves him, telling him how good she feels.

He rolls onto his back, taking her with him, bringing her to rest on his chest as he combs through her hair with his fingers.

"Thank you, love," he whispers, kissing the top of her head.

They remain like that until her stomach starts to growl, and she sheepishly reaches for the bag of Teddy Grahams that they had discarded on her nightstand. It is only then that he remembers the paused scene on the television that had started all of this; the vision of the doomed lovers frozen on the screen.

He swallows roughly, the guilt beginning to surface. "Do you want to watch the end?"

She shakes her head, content just to lie there with him.

They'll leave heartbreak for another day.