I've been strangely prolific this year...

This is just a little something a wrote one night, and is the first time I've attempted anything heterosexual. Weird, isn't it?

Enjoy!

Scout chewed on his hundred-dollar steak. It was hard to appreciate the delicate bouquet of truffle jus when a hot broad was sitting less than a foot away from him. Despite the glamorous fine dining atmosphere, conversation had been stilted. Scout knew he had to salvage the situation soon or he might not even make it to first base. Since he didn't trust Spy's elaborate advice on the fine art of seduction, Scout only had one trick up his sleeve. His brothers assured him it was foolproof.

Get her drunk.

"Yo, Gaston! We're runnin' low on wine here. Filler up! We ain't got all night." Scout snapped his fingers at a nearby waiter who took his time to snootily shamble up to the couple.

The waiter tried to keep his eye twitch under control as he answered Scout's request. "Certainly sir. Er, ze same brand? It is rather… expensive."

"Excuse me pal? Do I look like a hobo to you? I bet I earn more in a day than you do in a year. Just for that you can get us two bottles. One for me and one for sweet cheeks here."

The waiter did a commendable job of keeping his temper in check. "Certainly sir. Right away sir."

The maître d' shuffled off again. The pair were left alone at the table once more, with only the clinking of cutlery and faint piano music to fill the awkward silence.

"Can you even believe that? Some fancypants waiter thinks he's better than me." Scout thought about that for a second and the added, "I get paid heaps you know."

"I know." Said Miss Pauling as she poked a fork at her lobster salad. "I handle employee paychecks."

"Yeah, haha. 'Course ya do…"

Shit, thought Scout. Real smooth dumbass. She probably won't even let me feel her up when we get to the car. Gotta think fast.

"You seen my biceps? I've been working out. Look!" Scout rolled up his sleeve to expose his noodle-thin upper arm. He flexed so hard the veins on his neck bulged with the strain. His efforts were rewarded with a slight convex mound that rose a centimeter from his bicep. A few of the other patrons looked at Scout with distaste.

Miss Pauling dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin and rose from her chair. "I think we've been here long enough. Dinner was adequate."

She collected her purse and moved towards the exit. Scout nearly tripped over his feet to follow after her. By this time the waiter had returned with two bottles of Romanée Conti on a silver platter. He raised an eyebrow at Scout's ungainly stumbling.

"Your wine, sir?"

"What. Huh?" Scout was torn between chasing after Miss Pauling and dealing with Monsieur Poshpants.

She was briskly collecting her coat at the door. It wouldn't be long now before she was gone, and with her any chance of Scout getting some action. He hastily pulled out his wallet and stuffed a thick wad of bills into the waiter's top pocket. "Fuck, whatever. That should cover it. You can keep the wine, but don't think that means I like ya."

Before the waiter could even get a 'merci' past his moustache, Scout was gone. He shrugged his dinner jacket back on as he raced out of the restaurant and down the marble stairs to catch up with his date.

"Hey, hey!" He panted, and tried to casually fall in stride with her. "Ditching that place was a good idea. Yeah, they were real jerks. Last time I ever eat Euro food. Say, uh, you still wanna do something? We could go for a walk or see a movie or… maybe go back to your place?"

Only the cold echo of Pauling's heels against the pavement answered Scout. He tugged at his collar. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Right now she should be falling into his arms at his irresistible charm and flawless body. Clearly he was a hot piece of man meat; even his Ma had said so.

So why wasn't she all over him?

It was a beautiful night. The moon hovered over the star speckled horizon like a silver baseball. A mild wind fluttered past them and ruffled Pauling's black cocktail dress. She looked divine, and that wasn't just because she was the first woman Scout had any meaningful interaction with since he signed up with the RED's.

They had nearly reached her car and she began to rummage in her handbag for her keys. Scout knew time was running out. Returning to the base with nothing to brag about was absolutely not an option. His casual stride belied the utter turmoil that twisted his insides. What should he do? He couldn't just let her drive away!

"Hey," he put his hand on the car door, trapping her between the vehicle and his body. "You wanna know somethin', Miss Pauling? You are a knockout, and I ain't just sayin' that."

She blinked up at him, clearly undaunted by his advances. Scout decided this was a good sign and pushed a little further. "Yeah, I know you must be shy around a guy as handsome as me. Don't worry, toots, you're almost as pretty."

It was the moment of truth; Scout could almost hear the symphony of violins swell at his romantic prowess. His heart hammered in his chest as he tried to stay calm and seductive. He closed his eyes, puckered his lips and leaned forward to seal the deal.

He opened his eyes when he discovered he was tongue wrestling the shiny glass window of Miss Pauling's Lamborghini.

Somehow, she had ducked under his arm and was now sitting in the driver's seat, turning on the ignition.

"Wha… how!"

She rolled down the window, frowning at the greasy smear on her otherwise immaculate vehicle. "I'll call you, Scout. Oh, and don't forget to fill in your employment waiver and resubmit it by Friday. You misspelled your name on the last one."

She released the clutch, and began to roll away.

Slack jawed; Scout stepped away from the car. His pea-brain couldn't process the humiliating sensation of rejection. It was only until Miss Pauling revved the engine, that he was able to reorient himself with another familiar emotion.

Desperation.

"Whoa, wait!" He yelled as his legs kicked into gear and chased after the bumper. "Stop!" He was prepared to throw himself in front of that car if he had to. Miss Pauling wasn't getting away so easily.

After he raced behind her for a few hundred feet, the car mercifully rolled to a stop.

He scrambled around the side of the car and pressed his face against the glass. "C'mon! We don't have to end this now!"

Pauling once again rolled down the window and gave Scout a very unimpressed stare.

"Give me a chance. I, I can do anything ya want. Just… don't leave. Please…"

She silently scrutinized him. Scout waited with baited breath, mentally punching himself for begging like a little sissy. Chicks just didn't dig that. He was already preparing for a long, shameful walk home when, before he knew it, Pauling leaned over and popped opened the passenger door.

"Alright. I suppose it is still early. Get in."

Scout nearly fell over in disbelief. He didn't waste a second sliding over the hood of the car to get inside. He was restless with excitement and nerves. It had been a close call.

He looked around at the leather interior and whistled in approval. "Yeah, real nice car. When I learn to drive I'm gonna' buy ten of these."

She tilted down the rear-view mirror as she reapplied her lipstick. Scout suppressed his urge to babble, and took a moment to watch her. From her shiny black bun down to her designer glasses and hoop earrings, Miss Pauling was pure class. The urge to touch her was intense. He fiddled with his tie, trying to keep his hands busy. He didn't want to ruin his chances again so soon.

"So, uh. Where we goin' anyway?" He asked, not entirely sure if she expected him to make new plans.

"My house." She said, as her perfectly manicured hands took a hold of the wheel.

Before Scout even had a moment to think about what that implied, Miss Pauling stepped on the accelerator. The g-force stripped any rational thought from Scout's brain as they rocketed down the street, dodging and swerving traffic.