"Right, sorry." Derek also didn't break the contact, and laid a hand on Kristina's shoulder and leaned down to whisper, 'Yeah, I kinda did,' his breath hot against her ear as he straightened up and joined the conversation about his own experiences with the professor at an appropriate time. He unconsciously rubbed the shoulder slightly as he spoke.<br/><br/>Meanwhile, his mind was working overtime about how he'd manage to get from here to the hotel. The cost wasn't an issue, his late parents had won the lottery earlier in their life but kept living modestly so they were able to bequeath the lion's share of it to him. But how was he going to convince her to let him have sex with her?<br/><br/>The conversation turned to a literature class that he had taken with some of the group, and when someone made a wild comparison between<i>The Scarlet Letter</i>and a spaghetti Western, he put on a Texas drawl and said, "Well<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(184, 49, 47)">color me red </span>and call me Sally! That's about the most ree-diculous thing I ever did hear!"