There is something about the way Cort winks that turns me on.

Oh, hell, is there anything about Cort that isn't a turn on? C'mon, I know you feel the same way. Oh, don't try and act the innocent, because you most definitely know it's true or you wouldn't be reading this.

So, anyway, what was I saying? Oh. Yeah. Cort. Winking. At me.

Across a poker table from me. Trying his best to disrupt my concentration. He'd done a much too good job of that all evening. Not that I was complaining, mind you. I think it had started when he was shuffling the first hand and proposing the game we'd play. Just hearing him say the words 'five-card stud' in that delicious hardening drawl of his, with emphasis on the last word of course, had set my mind tumbling.

I undid another button. Slow. Playing with it. Like I was just absentmindedly messing around with the top edges of my shirt ... and ... oops! Did I just do that? Taking a surreptitious peek down at my chest. Like I was unsure if anything would show. And setting my shoulders back. Like I didn't want to show too much to the gentleman with me.

Gentleman?

"Take it off, amiga," he said with a touch of impatience.

"Now, now, Cort. Let's not get overanxious."

"Maybe we should play by Tucson rules, Ann. Might be a bit more fair."

"Tucson rules? Never heard of 'em."

"No? I'm surprised. Big strip poker player like you." He giggled at me and snapped his fingers. I undid the next button. More slowly, if possible, than the first. Three more to go. "You know why I'm winning, don't you? Cause you haven't got a poker face."

"Or maybe I'm the one who's winning."

He propped his chin in his hand and studied me. "Thought we were playing that the one who was stripped first has to do what the other one wanted."

"In the bedroom," I finished for him. Then appraised him seriously. From his eyes to his feet. "I'd say letting you use your imagination on me might be the ultimate poker win."

He couldn't help that pleased drop of his chin and devilish little grin at me. He gave me that pouting little growl of his to say: "So, about Tucson rules."

"Yeah. About them. Tell me about what they are." Next button undone.

He smiled that Cort smile. You know the one that drives you ape-shit wild? That one. The one where he looks like he knows exactly what you're thinking when you're looking at him like you always do. You are so shameless.

"By Tucson rules, you'd be over here sitting in my lap and I'd be deciding which article of clothing I'd be taking off you, honey. Think you got what it takes for that?"

"Dare we change the rules in the middle of the game? I know what a stickler you are for following the rules of the game."

He hesitated. Not sure if I'd meant game or game. I'd meant game; the game of the lifestyle we were leading.

"Now, just so I'm clear on Tucson rules, Padre. They do work both ways? So when you lose a hand, then you come over here to me and I get to decide what I strip off your body?" I asked him. He nodded slowly at me, his eyes suddenly serious. "And do I get to touch any bare skin I uncover?"

"Ah, well. Now you're talking Phoenix rules, honey. And I can see you've been playing me all along if you know Phoenix rules."

We giggled together at that.

I'd been letting him win. Or, more accurately, I'd not cared enough to actually try to play. Any hands I'd won had been pure luck. With the way my luck had been running lately, I wasn't winning much. I'd only gotten his boots off him so far.

It took me a few seconds to pretend I was considering. "Okay, Phoenix rules it is then," I said, rising to go to him.

He scooted his chair back so I could to slide onto his lap. His hands came gliding up my bare legs and massaged my barely-covered ass. That's right. I'd already lost my sandals and shorts. Even lost the ribbon that had been tying my hair up off my shoulders. My rings and watch were also long gone. Only three things left on my body to be removed.

"Hey, now that's not right. By Phoenix rules, you can only touch skin that's uncovered. So you have to take that ass grab back, Cort."

I love the way he laughs. It was something I'd miss about Cort. He reversed the massage he'd just done and leaned toward me to whisper, "Okay, honey, took it back. Now, let me decide what I'm taking off you."

"Uh-uh. You should have to take off my shirt. You made us change the rules when I was most of the way through taking it off."

"Mmm. If you insist, lover. The shirt it is. But I'm taking it off my way." He leaned so hard against me that when he kissed me, I fell back against the edge of the table and I had to struggle with all my might not to end up sprawled out on top of it. I saved myself by grabbing in around his neck. All the while his mouth took its time with mine, I could feel his hands smoothly releasing the remaining buttons' tenuous grip. Felt him spread my shirt open and then slip it down my shoulders and arms until I had to release my hold on him so he could get it all the way off.

It's how I ended up with my back on the table. Just a little accident and my inability to maintain my sense of balance. Sure, sure.

When he had the shirt off, his mouth began taking its victor's claim to the skin he'd uncovered. Not much left that wasn't bare to him except what was covered by my bra and panties. So strange how it felt almost more invasive that he had to stop licking before he even got more than part-way down the top rise of my breasts.

"Christ. I love Phoenix rules," he muttered finally. Rising up and pulling me up with him as he sat back in his chair. As he grabbed me in against his body, I could feel him harder than he'd been before. I used every ounce of my willpower to stop it but still I just couldn't resist a little rolling grind against his hardness. I watched him through half-shut eyes. I wondered if he could see the way my eyes were glazed over with my wish to lose this game to him. "You should see yourself, honey. Got the prettiest flush to your cheeks."

I shook myself awake. "Whose deal is it? I like these Phoenix rules. Think I'm ready to win a few hands. You're in for a battle now, Cort."

Quick little kiss of my lips and he pinched me on the thigh. "Why don't you just stay right here while I deal, Ann? Have a feeling you'll just be over here again after this hand anyway. I'm feeling lucky."

"Yeah? You cocky shit. Go on and deal. I'd say double or nothing but ..."

"I'd take that bet, amiga, but I like how good suffering looks on you. Besides, prolonging the inevitable gives me a bit more time to figure out what I'll be doing with you."

As he shuffled the cards, I leaned into his ear and whispered plainly, "One thing, Cort. I'll do anything you want if you win, save one item. I don't fancy being the substitute woman for another man. How about we just keep this about you and me tonight?"

He didn't even look at me; but I caught the pause of those incredibly talented hands as they cracked the cards together in the shuffle. I got his rough voice: "Ann, I'm not the man you're having that particular problem with. And gotta tell you, while I normally love your green eyes, they are not flattering to you when you say something like that."

Held my breath. It hurt like he'd slapped me hard. I struggled and lost; a few tears escaped. The fun I'd been able to pretend evaporated. "Whatever."

"Shh. I'm sorry. That came out a whole hell of a lot meaner than I meant it." He dropped the deck on the table, leaned back in his seat and smiled into me. "Does this possibly mean you're ready to talk to me about what's happening with you?"

I touched his lips with my fingers. Traced up to those wonderful lines that crinkled out from his eyes and told how often he had smiled in the past. Reached in and kissed at his chin, rested my lips there for a moment and composed myself.

Sitting back up, I put on my lightest voice to say, "You haven't been stacking the deck behind my back, have you, Preacher?"

It only took Cort a hesitation before he decided not to push me where I didn't want to go.

"Would I ever do something like that?" His beautiful eyes studied me and his sweet lips curled into a nasty grin. "Honey, don't be offended, but the way you play? I don't think I need any extra help."

"Oh, you are asking for it now! Deal, Padre. I'll wipe the floor with ya."

I tried hard to relax, to let that little spat of nastiness between us vanish as though it never existed. And tried to reflect on how nice it was to be sitting astride Cort's lap, with those strong arms around me, feeling them move sure and smooth as he shuffled the deck once more and then dealt us each five cards. I leaned against his chest, kissed his neck and sniffed him.

"You always smell so nice, Preacher," I sighed. "I'm so glad we had this visit scheduled. It's really nice having you here with me again."

"Ann honey, you should ask me more often. I feel like you're drifting away from me sometimes."

"From you?" Adopting a nonchalance I hadn't felt in a while. "Never. You're my friend, remember."

He leaned his head in against mine and spoke soft, deep. "Amiga. I love you and you know that."

I swallowed hard and found the words I needed to help me. "I will always cherish what you bring to me, Cort. No matter what else might happen. Will you promise to remember that?"

"Always. I never forget things of such importance." His lips pressed warmth into my temple. "Should I be reading more into this than you want me to, Ann?"

"No, no. It's just that I think I often forget to tell you things like that. Just in a sentimental mood all of a sudden, is all." Pushing myself upright and giving him a fake grin. I was getting good at that. "Or maybe I was just trying to distract you so I could win the next hand?"

"Okay, if that's the way you want it. Here's your cards."

We leaned away from each other and both carefully fanned our cards out. Studied them. Looked in each other's eyes.

I glanced back down at my hand. Pair of jacks. How utterly appropriate, I thought snidely. I discarded the other three cards and Cort dealt me my new three in return.

"Dealer takes one," he said, slow drawl to tell me how very confident he was.

Fanned my cards out again with the three new arrivals. Looked into those sweet eyes trying to be hard. He did have the cutest poker face. But mine was better because he wasn't reading me well that night. "You're losing this time, Padre."

"Now you're trying to bluff, honey? I'll make you pay for that, you know."

Turned my cards around for him to see. "Read 'em and weep. Full house. Jacks over sevens."

He gave me a slow whistle as his eyes widened. "Whoa. I'd accuse you of hiding cards up your sleeves, but since you're down to your undies, guess I'll have to just accept my loss gracefully."

I hopped up off his lap and settled in my chair. Crooked my finger at him and he came to stand before me. I made a show of looking at everything he was wearing. Then grinned up at him as I undid the snap of his jeans. My fingers on his zipper and his hand touched mine.

"Careful, darlin'. Don't damage me in your enthusiasm."

"God, Cort. Tell me you're not commando under here," I groaned to him.

His amused giggle told me I'd better proceed carefully if I wanted fun that evening. I smoothed them down his hips and got to my knees to push them down to his ankles; he stepped out and then kicked them away. My eyes wound up level with his interested cock.

"Ah, sweet Lord," he stuttered out as I licked up him. I heard a whole Bible full of litany as I enjoyed the winning hand. There was at least one "God" for every "Madre Dios" and "Christ Almighty." At the end, there was simply a guttural whimper as I pulled away just before he could come.

When we were both seated again, he slid the deck toward me and I noted his hand shook just a bit. A few quick shuffles and then I dealt our hands. Again, he only wanted one card. I took two in exchange for the pair I discarded.

I knew he'd won the hand before he even showed me his cards. Something about the way he got this intent look on his face. So I was ready when he turned over a straight, queen high. When I showed my losing hand, he opened his arms and scooted his chair back. I was not bothered at all by the quick intake of breath from him as I settled in on his lap and shifted very deliberately over his glory.

Hot breath on my neck. Mouth at my ear. Rough voice there. "You're so wet, Ann. I can feel your damp little panties against me. Is that what I should take from you? Make you suffer like you did me?"

No answer from me. What could I say? Either article of clothing's removal was fine by me. And I liked being surprised. I waited him out. Waited while his fingers traced along the skin that was already bare, skimming the surface of me with such delicacy that it nearly shattered me. But then his nimble fingers slipped the clasp of my bra open and I felt the straps coming down my arms while his lips chased behind their route.

Arched my back at the feel of his masterful hands cupping my breasts. He pulled them, one at a time, up into his open mouth. I watched as long as I could and then let my head fall back. Eyes closed to give my sense of touch a bit more of my attention. When I felt myself gush below at what he was doing to me, I made this plaintive little mewl and wiggled on him.

"Oh, sweetie. You are such a good winner," I whispered to him in real need. "Let's just do it, Cort. I'm dying for you."

Deep, dark chuckle from my opponent. "Now, honey, you know that's not what you really want. Let's see this through to the end. My deal, I believe."

My shaky legs held me up long enough to make it to my chair. Neither of us picked up our cards after he dealt them out. We just looked at each other. Like it was pre-ordained.

"What will you do with me if you win?" I asked him.

"What will you let me do?"

I blushed at the aggressive tone of his voice. Surprised that there might actually have been some things I might have found a challenge to do with him.

"When I win, you will tell me what forbidden thought caused that blush, amiga. Then that's what I'll do with you," he told me.

Was that whimper from me? It surprised me and I breathed in deep, determined to be brave.

"I call. Show me your cards," I told him and watched as he flipped them over and spread them out for me to see. Two aces and two fours.

I looked down at where my fingers rested over my cards. Not sure if I wanted to win or lose. Lose, I think if I'm truthful. Turned each card over, one by one, until they were all five bared to our eyes. Nothing. A hand so bad I would have been tempted to discard them all.

"Well, as is my specialty, when I lose, I do it in grand style," I told him at last. He stared into me and I know I trembled at what I saw waiting for me. When he finally smiled, I rose and went to stand before him.

Without a word, he leaned toward me and hooked his fingers into the sides of my panties. Got to his knees and began pulling them down, inch-by-inch. His mouth kissed into the flesh of my hips as he lowered the panties to my ankles. When his soft voice commanded it, I stepped out of them and spread my legs.

For some reason, I was surprised when I felt his breath upon my sex. I didn't try to watch. I had a hand on his head to steady myself and after the first few lingering swipes along my slit, I hissed out to him when he ever-so-gently sucked up my little nub. Gasped out "Oh, God" loudly when his tongue invaded me. My knees, always my knees ... they quivered at his onslaught and when he told me to lie down, I sunk to the ground with real gratitude.

He didn't even wait for me to settle into place before he shoved my thighs far apart, dug his fingers in there and began to try to find my g-spot with his tongue. I was dissolving into nothingness by the time he moved back to my clit and flickered the tip of his tongue to delight me. I grabbed handfuls of his hair and shoved him down until he sucked me into a coming so intense I thought I'd choke on it.

Do you know what that's like? To feel so completely taken to your root, to your center ... but without your heart or emotion really involved, just a physical response ... that you feel like someone's reached inside you and squeezed the life out? Maybe not. Best I can describe it, really. And yet ... as good a physical release as it is ... it isn't all that, is it? Not like when the coming makes you sob because you just don't have any other strong emotion with which to respond to what you've just felt in your heart.

When I had a few brain cells responding to my command again, I cleared my throat and asked, "And what are the victor's desires, my lord?"

"What made you blush, ninfa? Because that's what I want to do with you," he told me. It made me tremble deep within my soul.

He dragged me to my feet and pulled me along with him into my bedroom. We fell together on the bed and I felt curiously overemotional at the feel of his hands on me. He whispered in my ear, telling me of his longing to be in me.  Of how he wanted to know how I wished to have him that night. I whispered back and in my words, I found myself remembering to see the way it was between us.

When I'd first come into this group, I'd been allowed three choices. Three men I would claim some part of by virtue of being on their lists. One of those choices, I'd given up to assume my place as Jack's Number One when he came into our group. Another one, Terry, had been my original reason for joining the group and, until recently, even his Number Two position had given me such joy to have as my own. The third had been Cort and in the time I'd been in the group, I'd felt such pleasure to have moved up from his fourth spot to where I was then, his second.

That made him the last of the men with whom I still had that special, official connection. Jack was lost to me and Terry had only been an illusion. Cort was all I had left.

I would have given Cort a lot of me in that moment ... but not all of me. Just to gain the sense that, as minor as it was, I still had a place in the group. But it was also in that moment that I knew it wasn't really enough to take away from me the shame of having lost so much. It was also the moment I knew that despite all the ways that I adored other men in the group, I was never going to be happy in the life without all three of these men I'd chosen.

So for so many reasons, I wanted this to count between us. Wanted him to have, if nothing else, some sense of how good it had been with him for me. Always. From the first to the last, Cort had been easy on my heart and good for my soul.

I undressed him and adored his skin. But we'd delayed our gratification through hours of a consistently ramping up of purposeful foreplay. And neither of us seemed to really want to wait too long to experiment.

When he said the word, I fell back onto my back and felt his slickened fingers where they made me feel things I hadn't with him. Loved his kisses, relished his sighs and moans, cherished his trembling muscles. Let him take over. Enjoyed the feel of his sure hands around my ankles as he pressed my knees up toward my shoulders. Took in an anticipatory breath as I felt him push hard enough to make my hips rise from the bed. Watched as he leaned his weight against the hold he created there; pushed back with the strength in my legs to give him something to brace against as he took me. Unable to keep the smile from my face as I regarded him, as I noted the way he watched himself take me like this; gentle and with mastery. Such restraint. So intent, so serious, so masculine in his bald desire to ultimately be the one to be in control. Needing in these long minutes only the obvious signs of my pleasure in what he gave me.

Never one to give these things up without a cost, I came with everything I had to give.

He took that ... and more than I might have realized.

But, here's something odd. I took from him as well. Is that horrid of me? That instead of this being a gift to him, it seemed to be an exchange?

We lay together for so long, neither doing much more than breathing; our fingers not willing to be absent some languid touch of the other.

"I worry about you sometimes lately, Padre," I finally whispered. "It pained me to read of your lingering emotional turmoil from the Portal. Will you tell me any of it?"

Big sigh and harder hug. "Amiga, I am finding my way. It is perhaps not the path I thought would be there, but I am realistic. Don't worry, though. I have never lost sight of my priorities."

I turned to him. A hand to his jaw. Light kiss on his lips. "You are so special to all of us, Cort. Let me always capture you in my memory this way."

His eyes grew sharper and he lost a vestige of his sweet softness. His hand stroked my jaw and he forced me to keep looking at him as his voice deepened to tell me, "Don't give up without a fight, amiga."

God. Why did he know these things about me? Where was my poker face? Have I always been so transparent? He knew exactly what I'd been trying to hide from him in this visit.

It came out plain and without a trace of emotion. "I can't fight anymore. Losing Jack was the final thing."

His arms gathered me to his chest and he stroked along my back. "Do you love him?"

"So much. Just so much."

"If you love him, then prove it to him. Make a gesture he will understand. Give him a way back to you, Ann. He's a man of his time, no matter how well he's adapting to this time. You need to make it possible for him to make the decision to win you back."

"What? No. Jack doesn't want to win me back and never will, Cort. He's disgusted by what I did." I felt tears but refused to let them spill. "He said I was not the person he thought I was. He said he hated me and ..."

His fingers on my lips. "Hush now, honey. Don't tell me this. Let it stay between you and Jack, where it belongs. But this much I know. He wouldn't give up this easily. Not the Captain. Maybe he's regretting those harsh words. Maybe he's just waiting on that one little sign from you that lets him know you're ready to let him win your heart. That he has a clear shot at it."

I thought about this. Did I really understand how Jack's reactions would work? Modern men were tough enough for me to figure out ... was there any way possible I really understood what was going on with a man of Jack's time? Would my actions be damned by him? Or would he instead consider it a challenge to win me from a rival? Would it be me he blamed? Or was it more likely a man of his time would have blamed Terry for what happened?

"He has always understood the concept of a lover in every port, you know? It's maybe the thing about both of us that's made us work so well together in this group, Cort. But we were always home for each other. We always felt that. Until I screwed up by making it look like I had forgotten. That I might prefer another in that role." Shaking my head and sighing in frustration. "Damn but I do not know what to do. I have given up, Cort. I have. Because he won't even talk to me anymore. There is just nothing else I can do if he won't talk to me."

"There's one thing. Invoke your right as his Number One. Order him home."

"Oh, no. I can't do ..."

"Do it. Then when he's here, let him see that you can be won if he'll put in the effort. He loves strategy and battle plans. Give him something he can fight for and he may surprise you with how eager he is to claim his prize."

Closed my eyes and tried to envision myself in that role. When ... in my entire life, when had I ever played such games with a man? Pretended to be a damsel running only fast enough to be caught by the man I conned into pursuing me?

Did I want a man this way? Through trickery? Games?

I don't know that I can do this. Truly. But the longer I have thought on it, the more I have become convinced that Cort may know something I should listen to. There's got to be at least one more try to find a way to get through to Jack before I face a future without him. It hurts too much and I am numb from the hurt.

Somehow, I will also find the words, the ones I should have said to him from the beginning.

What is it Jack might say in this moment facing the choice I am? He'd probably say something like: in desperate times, go straight at 'em. And then he'd look perplexed and shake his head. No, no. He'd know that wasn't quite right. Maybe he'd try this next: a desperate measure is worth two in the bush. Hmmm. No. That's not it either, he'd say.

Ah. But I'd know what he'd mean. And I'd love every meter of his mangled axioms because I'd be feeling just as he was: Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Do you smoke it?