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Petra Solano was not in love with Jane Villanueva!

She checked her watch and sighed. It was later than she'd imagined.

She moved down a row of cubicles to the women's loo.

Loo. What a weird word.

The lighting was automatic and she moved to the mirror running her fingers over her neck. Her skin was smooth and pale as it had ever been. She undid a few buttons of her blouse and unhooked her bra. The space above her left nipple was smooth and unblemished as well.

She ran her fingers over the skin, letting the tip of her right middle finger rub the nipple slightly. She admired herself in the mirror, feeling a bit naughty.

What if someone walked in right now? Some late office worker or a janitor...

She smiled, rehooking her bra and buttoning her blouse. She put on her coat and took her lipstick out of her bag, touching it up in the mirror. She blew a small kiss at herself before capping the lipstick, dropping it back into her purse and walking to the door. She pushed it open and he was there, tall and looking down into her eyes.

She froze as he stepped through the door and then she stepped back.

"I was beginning to worry," he said, walking past her into the ladies' room to lean against the counter.

"Who... What are you?"

"Your agenda said you only had to work through four o'clock. I was waiting downstairs for you to come out but then you didn't come." He turned and looked the large mirror. Lauren's scalp tingled at the realization that he cast no reflection there. "I thought you might want to take in a show, but now it's late and all the shows have started. What we're to do now I don't really..."

"I asked a question." She'd found resolution somewhere and that emotion had come out in the question. She was forceful, angry.

He turned, shrugged. "After last night-I would have hoped at least you would remember, Lauren."

She blinked, shaking her head. "Last night?"

"Don't play coy. Even if your conscious mind won't let you remember, your instincts know." He took a step toward her and she backed away. "You see, even now they're telling you to run. But you're not running."

"Why would I run? You're just a man in the ladies' room."

He smiled. "You're not running because you want to remember, Lauren. Don't try to act superior, it doesn't work when you're scared."

"I'm not scared."

He brought his hand up and touched the side of her face. She shuddered. The hand was pale and cool to the touch. "You remember."

She tore her gaze away from his eyes and backed away from him, looking down at the tiles on the floor. "This isn't happening. I'm dreaming this whole thing."

He smiled. "Well," he walked over to the heavy bathroom door and opened it.

Lauren looked out, down the row of cubicles to the open door of the corner office. There was a woman asleep in the chair at her desk, her glasses askew on top of her head. Lauren's eyes widened as the man let the door close.

"Now, you can either take solace in the fact that this is all a dream, Lauren. Or," and he walked up, putting his hands on her shoulders and leaning in to kiss along the line of her jaw, "you can realize that even in your dreams you're not entirely safe from certain things."

A hand moved from her shoulder to the front of her blouse and she felt the popping of the buttons as he undid them. She exhaled gently, not daring to move as she felt his cool fingers moving over her skin and the satin fabric over her bra.

"So you're going to hurt me, then?" She did her best to sound in control of herself.

She felt his lips on her neck curving into a smile. "Only if you want me to."

"I don't understand," she pulled away slightly so that he had to look up and meet her gaze.

"Whatever pleases you," he said. "Fear isn't food for my kind. That let-in fear or terror has a bitter taste." He grabbed her bra and pulled her to him firmly, without being forceful. "Describe a fantasy, Lauren."

"What?"

"The last time you were with a man was seven years ago.

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