Their eyes meet across the lobby. Recognition and instant attraction sparking in their eyes and coiling in their stomachs. She straightens her spine and adds a swing to her hips, she is graceful and feline. Her skirt is short. Too short. The rush of air as she walks through the lobby doors sends a shiver of delight to all the right places. He stands by the desk, has been idly chatting to an officer. Watching her now he licks his lips, evaluates her like a wolf stalking it's prey. She likes the way it makes her feel, like she's a fresh piece of meat just waiting to be torn into. She entices him to follow with a seductive tilt of her head, lets her hair fall over her face as she dares once last glance towards him. Calls to him through the curtain of her mahogany locks. She wonders if the various uniforms and low life scum notice. Doesn't really care, she realizes. She feels wild, feral. She presses the elevator button and whispers a prayer of thanks as the doors quickly ding smoothly open, lure her in to the blessedly empty compartment.

He hurries to catch up, wraps his long overcoat protectively around himself. She smirks and wonders if he's trying to hide something.

"Fancy meeting you here," he growls as the doors begins to close.

"Fancy," she agrees.

He strokes his hand down her arm, it tingles and it titillates. The small hairs stand at attention, like a row of tiny soldiers awaiting orders. She shifts an inch closer, lets her hand skim his thigh. She hears his ragged inhale and wishes the doors would close a little faster, banes the budget committee for not deigning to replace these ancient conveyers.

Ding!

A hand boorishly thrusts it's way through the small crack and the doors glide back open. She curses under her breath and risks a sideways glance to her left. He's biting his lip and if looks could kill, the middle-aged man in the garishly plaid shirt and hunting coveralls' head would be mounted beside his latest trophy.

Ding! Ding!

She closes her eyes and wills the man to disappear. When she opens them he is mercifully absent. She momentarily wonders where he's gone but is swiftly distracted by a fingertip snaking it's way up her legs, hitching her already short skirt dangerously higher. Wetness pool between her thighs and 'oh my god' he traces the line of her panties, his calloused hands scoring so close to where she needs them. It burns and it chills. She desperately drags his face to hers and...

Ding! Ding! Ding!

'Oh my God, what is that dinging?'

Kate slams her hand in the general direction of her phone lets out a growl of frustration.

"Just five more minutes.." she whines, sighs into the early morning light. The amber rays tickle at her eyelids and insist on wakefulness. The dinging persists, laments the call of a new day. She could cry.

Lethargically she rolls towards the obnoxious dinging, reaches to grasp it off the floor. Angrily she swipes the dismiss message and momentarily wishes for the days of rotary phones and sturdy alarm clocks. Something she could throw, something she could break.

As she sets about her morning habit of shower and coffee, picking out clothing, she turns the heat down a smidgen, more than a smidgen, forgoes the milk and sugar in the hot black liquid. She settles on a black skirt and tight fitting blouse. She refuses to think about why she chose that ensemble, she just likes it. Yeah. That's all it is.

When she arrives at the 'Twelfth' all seems as it should. She sips on her latte. Savors the vanilla and frothy cream. She greets the desk jockeys with a smile and relaxes as she settles into her regular routine. She picks up a 'New York Times', left forgotten on a bench and scans it as she races to catch up with the rapidly closing doors ahead.

"Hold the elevator!," she cries and smiles happily as the egress opens back up.

She rushes to the opened path, still scanning the paper and lets out a cry of surprise and she slams abruptly into a large, unyielding chest. She meekly begins to raise her eyelids and prepares to make a perfunctory apology. And that's when it hits her. The woody base notes and pink pepper top. Heart notes of dry cedar and grapefruit.

Sepia rivers of liquid swim lazily between her breasts. The smell of him is more overpowering than the sting of the scalding brew.

"Castle!" Her stomach drops and the compartment hasn't yet begun to move.

"Fancy meeting you here," he remarks with a wink, relieving her of the soggy newspaper.

"Fancy." She croaks it out and a fine sheen of perspiration beads on her forehead. She hears the grind and whir of the timeworn cables, prays the old girl has a few years left in her yet.

The elevator moves compassionately fast and she dives swiftly through the doors as they open. Makes a break for it towards the ladies room. Leaves him standing in the cab with a perplexed look of confusion clouding his face.

"Kate?"

A/N: Well. that was...new. I'm thinking of making this a multi-chapter, he dreamed, she dreamed fic. Thoughts? Continue? Back away from the smut? Hit me up with a review!