A/N: It's not the lingerie drabble, but I haven't forgotten about that one. ;) This is just a bit of fluff I thought of when I heard "Old Time Rock and Roll" on the radio today.

She slid a full three feet past the sofa, careening straight for the bookcase.

Olivia leaned forward, prepared to spring into action, in the event of a head-on collision. Hello, 911? My girlfriend just got KO'd by a shelf because she thinks she's Tom Cruise. Come quick.

But Amanda applied the brakes just in time, her white crew socks skidding to a halt, then strutting back in Olivia's direction. She popped the collar on her pink Oxford—her only other attire, besides the tidy whities that peeked from underneath—and proceeded to gyrate while Bob Seger wailed in the background. The girl had rhythm, there was no denying that.

"That kinda music just soothes my soul," she mouthed along, hips rocking closer by the minute. Another step, she'd be giving Olivia a lap dance. "I reminisce about the days of old . . ."

"Okay, Risky Business, I believe you." Olivia gave the blonde a playful clap on the rear, but didn't remove her hand. Instead, she guided Amanda that last step, seating the woman in her lap. She nuzzled at the pink shirt collar, trailing kisses. "You know all the moves."

"Told ya."

"Wait till you see my Flashdance," Olivia burred in her ear.