Rose relaxed in the bath of bubbles and watched the Doctor shave. She eyed his bare, muscled torso and smiled, humming softly. He was so handsome and very, very sexy. He eyed her in the mirror.

"Quit staring," he told her with an amused smile.

"Nah," she replied stretching. "I'm enjoying the show."

The Doctor turned and looked at her soapy chest. "Same here."

Rose poked her tongue out at him and bounced her rubber duck off his head.

"Oi! Right you, you're gonna pay for that."

He dowsed a face cloth in cold water and attacked her with it. Her squeals echoed round the tiles. By the time the cloth was warm they were both giggling between gasps for breath and utterly wet through.

"I'm all wet now," he complained to her. "You've soaked my jeans."

"Take them off then," Rose replied, her eyes darkening as she spoke. "The bath's big enough for two..."

They discovered it was as well and that Rose's moans echoed as much as her squeals had. The soapy water made their skin deliciously slippery as they caressed, hands all over each other. They kissed and touched and moaned, lost in the pleasure of love making.

They came almost together and lay in the cooling water, catching their breath.

"So where now?" the Doctor asked.

Rose ran her hands over his back and sighed. "Take me to Paris. S'meant to be romantic."

"It is," he informed her. He stroked his fingers over her luscious mouth, then thought better of it and repeated the exercise with his lips. "When?"

"Hmm, not the Revolution; don't fancy getting my head chopped off. But I want old fashioned. So you have to dress up for a change too."

"Yes ma'am."

"You can take me up the Eiffel Tower."

"Can I now?" He asked her in the low dangerous tone that sent shivers of excitement through her.

"Not like that! We've only just... you are insatiable!"

"Hmm I know," he said and kissed her mouth again. "That a problem?"

Rose felt him harden within her, felt his hands on her breasts. "No," she croaked. "Not at all."

"Good," he said, and took her again.

It was quite a bit later before the TARDIS materialised in Paris, France 1957. In the bedroom they now shared, the Doctor and Rose had both dressed once, before Rose, turned on by the sight of him in a suit, had dragged him back to bed.

"You know it's after lunchtime out there?" The Doctor asked her as he fastened his tie again.

Rose lounged on the bed. "Don't care. Anyway, you started it. And I'm horny."

"I did notice that," he replied dryly. "And while I'm not complaining, you will when you feel hungry."

"S'pose," she mumbled. "Actually I am a little. Need food."

"I know that. That's why I've been trying to get us out for the last two hours."

"Oh yeah, you really tried," giggled Rose.

"Come on then. Get dressed and let's go find something to eat."

Ten minutes later they managed to escape the TARDIS. Rose hung on the Doctor's arm, staring round at the city.

"It is beautiful."


"Where are we going?"

"You wanted the Eiffel Tower," he reminded her.

She stared at the huge metal structure. "Wow it's so tall."

"Three hundred and twelve metres," he told her. "Unfortunately no where near a mile high."

Rose stared at him, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. "What are you like?" She hissed in disbelief. Even so, she found herself threading her arms around his neck, leaning into him trembling.

The Doctor smiled slowly as he gazed into her eyes. "I love you, I want you. Is that so bad?"

"Oh god," Rose groaned and rested her forehead on his chest. "Stop it or we'll never get anywhere."

They stood, entwined in each others arms for a moment. Then the sound of drifting music caught Rose's attention. "Let's go eat," she suggested. "And dance. I want to dance with you."

"Vertical sex," he mused.



Only he wasn't. Not Really.

The restaurant was a great grand thing with a marble floor, a huge chandelier and a real live piece band playing Frank Sinatra tracks. Rose thought it was lovely. She and the Doctor finally ate; their excursions had left them both with voracious appetites. Rose sipped at her wine and watched the couples on the dance floor.

"Do you dance?" she asked the Doctor.

"What like Sinatra with a cane and top hat?" he asked grinning at her.

The image was so ridiculous Rose laughed aloud, drawing a few looks. Not that she cared.

"No, like that," she said, indicating the dancers.

"If the price is right."

"Dare I ask?"

"Star Wars," he reminded her, with a smouldering look that dried her mouth. She took another swig of wine. "Careful, you'll get drunk."

"And does the TARDIS have a Princess Leia outfit?" she asked him tartly. She smirked, suspecting the answer.

"Probably. S'like Google you can find anything if you search long enough."

Rose snorted into her wine and went off into a coughing fit. "Google," she said weakly when it had passed. "Oh that's classic."

The Doctor grinned at her. "Better though. She's quicker than any internet provider." His face changed even as the words left his mouth, remembering.

Rose caught his hand. "Forget it," she whispered.

"If I hadn't..." he started.

"Then we wouldn't be doing this," Rose pointed out. "We wouldn't have spent half the night talking over it all and discovering how we felt. We wouldn't have kissed." She smiled. "We wouldn't had had amazing sex."

He looked at her, his eyes dark. "I love you. I never want to lose you. Come on, let's dance."

They took to the floor, bodies pressed close together, slow dancing to An Affair to Remember. As they danced the Doctor whispered the words into Rose's ear.

"Our love affair is a wondrous thing, that we'll rejoice in remembering. Our love was born with our first embrace, and each page was torn out of time and space."

Rose shivered and looked up into his eyes. "I love you too," she told him.

Our love affair, may it always be

A flame to burn through eternity.

So take my hand with a fervent pray'r

That we may live and we may share

A love affair to remember.

Lyrics by: Leo McCarey