"Cort!!!" I hurtled across the forecourt at Paddington as he appeared from the stairs leading from the Underground. I had been stuck in horrendous London traffic after dropping Bou and Arthur at our hotel and I was sure I was going to be late and miss him.

He dropped his bag and caught me, swinging me round like a little girl. My heart nearly burst at the sight of him and I reckon the hearts of half of the female commuting public did the same. He has to be the biggest crush that I have had since before I knew George Michael was gay.

"Hey there, Jezebel! You want to knock me off my feet?"

"You bet, gorgeous- don't worry, I'll be underneath you before you hit the ground!" I giggled and he shook his head at me, placing me back on my feet carefully.

"Promises, promises. Seems like you better make sure you deliver this time," he grinned.

I slipped my arms around his neck and pulled his head down to my face. " I intend to give you five days to remember, cowboy. When this girl makes up her mind to do something...she does it properly." He let out a groan of satisfaction and reached for my lips. I needed his kiss so badly that I didn't care how public a place it was. He held me by the waist and we snogged until passers-by started making comments. "You got breathing equipment there, mate?" being one of the better ones.

At last we broke and stared at each other. There was a sort of recognition in our eyes. We wanted each other something fierce but we also wanted other things. A reckoning was taking place and I suspected it was not entirely wise. But when have I ever let wisdom take precedence over passion? No reason for me to start now, is there?

Cort hauled up his soft leather holdall and slung his arm around me. We walked to the car and he caught me at the door. "Who's at the hotel?"

"Bou and Arthur...but they'll make themselves scarce. I think they plan a bit of a walk around before dinner. Bou's not daft - she'll know what we'll be doing and she'll want to keep Arthur away..."

Cort leaned in on me and placed a playful kiss on the tip of my nose. "You been doing a dance with Arthur?"

I blushed. "You know... we had some fun. He's a great kid."

Cort nodded and ran his hands down my back, grinding me against him, purring with a deep throaty burr. "And now it's time to dance with a man, Jezebel. Let's get that straight?"

Like I was going to argue? Cort pushed me against the side of my car and slipped his hands inside my leather jacket and under my light jumper, I shuddered as he kneaded my breasts and kissed me deeply. I was going to be a pushover - but fate, as ever, intervened. A rather boisterous family emerged from the lift and ran over to their Land Rover parked next to my car. Cort pulled away and grimaced, turning away from the grinning five-year-old who had stopped to watch us. The mother glared at me like I was some sort of she-devil and Cort adjusted himself surreptitiously as I flicked the locks. We got in the car. How come that sort of thing never happens to...? I am not going to mention that name.

We hit the traffic and I tried my best to take the back routes, but central London at five- thirty in the evening is a no hoper. I drove like a bat out of hell (normal style, then) but my speed and recklessness weren't helped by having Cort's hand resting on my crotch and stroking the stitching sensuously. It struck me that Cort was a little different than when last we had met. He had been more...or rather less...I'm not sure how to describe him. I suppose he seemed more predatory and less courteous this time but then I had just made my intentions pretty plain. But when he began to tell me in no uncertain terms what he was going to do to me when he got me into the room, I thought I was going to have to drive along in the throes of an orgasm. His voice is enough alone to achieve that.

I screeched into the car park- you could smell the burning rubber- and we almost raced to the lobby. We hit the lift and fell on each other, much to the indignation of a couple of old ladies who were unfortunate enough to be there already. At floor ten, our floor, one of them said, "Excuse me, young man, but would you like us to hold the lift while you consummate your relationship in here or can you possibly wait until you reach your room?"

I love old ladies.

Cort had the decency to blush and mumble an apology before dragging on my hand and pulling me along the corridor. In the room, he slung his bag and ripped off his jacket. I threw my coat on the floor and then he paced towards me looking all mean and magnificent. I stepped back instinctively.

"You gonna run away from me again, Jezebel?" He whispered with a dangerous look on his face. I felt a shiver of anticipation shoot through me.

"Slow down, cowboy. How about some courting, Cort?"

He shook his head and pursed his lips. "I did that already...been waiting months for the payback. Come get some or I am going to take what's mine..."

My stomach did a somersault. It was oral sex-out of his mouth. It was aural sex- into my ears. He continued advancing on me, now tearing off his flannel shirt and toeing off his boots. I found myself whimpering at the sight of Cort unleashed. His T-shirt was next and his bare chest made my eyes flare. His body is magnificent- I think it is the best of them all. But then I always say that. I can't choose shoes either...

He ripped down his zip and let his jeans fall. I was standing pressed against the wall with this glorious naked man on the loose and my knees were shaking. Cort's eyes were flashing, his nostrils were flaring, his mouth was uttering a stream of erotic promise and dangerous talk. He raised his hands and simply ripped open my jumper, buttons flying everywhere. He tore my bra so roughly that the central fastener pinged off. Then he circled my butt and lifted me off the ground to raise me to his height and sucked on my nipples. My head banged against the wall- I threw myself forward to curl myself round his head as he nibbled and sucked, lapped and tongued me.

"Oh my God, Cort...Oh my God..."

He released me, let me slip down to the floor and took my mouth, his tongue broad and thick, diving into me and his hands tearing at my jeans. He thrust them from me, pushing down my panties at the same time and using his right leg to pull them down my legs until I could shrug them from me. And thus, naked, he simply hoisted me up against the wall again, his fingers digging into my butt and took me there and then. He didn't speak much, just grunted and sighed. I didn't speak at all- just moaned insensibly into his shoulder. When he was clearly ready, he muttered. "You gonna come for me, baby? You gonna come on my dick?"

I bucked and came- his voice had driven me over the final edge- and I felt myself spasm hard against him- he groaned, "Sweet Jesus..." and pumped into me in deep shudders that knocked me rhythmically against the wall. I heard a knocking and wondered if I would be bruised; I actually couldn't feel anything expect his cock and my cunt but I supposed I would do later.

His strength finally seemed to fail him and he slipped away to stagger back with me still in his grasp and we tumbled to the bed. There we lay, long breathless moments, hearts pounding and brains still confused.

"Uma? You all right, honey?" I nodded against his chest but I couldn't speak. Suddenly an involuntary wave of tears started to run down my cheeks. I couldn't stop crying. I simply wept and wept while he held me close and stroked me, the wild passion of moments ago replaced by the most tender care. He didn't stop me until I was completely empty of tears.

"Now, are you all right, honey?" I nodded again but this time managed a smile. "You want to talk?" I shook my head. "When you're ready?" I nodded.

I didn't really mean to talk; it had never been my plan to confide in him or anyone. My diary is there for all to see- that should be enough. But violent orgasm and the crushing release of long-held back tears, acted like a conduit and the taps were full on.

"Cort, I'm losing it. I'm not sure how much longer I can hold on. I planned this trip before it happened and I couldn't back out in case Bou thought...you know what she might think."

"You and Max?" He asked quietly, rolling back to stare at the ceiling.

"There would be no truth to that rumour but I think it is what everyone imagines will happen."

"Why, Uma? I read the diary but I don't really understand it. Why did you tell him to go?"

I closed my eyes and recalled that awful moment and tried to work out for myself exactly when we had pressed the self- destruct button. "I'd be lying if I said I knew. But Terry had let me down and he never really explained his behaviour. Yet still he threw my relationships with other men in my face as if I had no right to live as he does. Things came out that had lurked under the surface. I just don't know."

Cort pulled me onto his chest. "How did he let you down?"

I sighed deeply. "He's been with someone who's not a sister. And then there's what happened with Isobel..."

"Hey, that's not between me and Terry. Isobel's a grown woman- she makes her own decisions. Terry's not her keeper. If she wants to be unfaithful, she only has herself to blame..."

"I know that. If it were just the thing with Dino...though God knows- Terry would have killed me for that. But what happened then was worse. He knew how you felt. He knew how he felt. But still he persuaded her, got her drunk, let her do that when she was so vulnerable...I can't believe it of him."

Cort pushed me gently away and rolled over onto his side, elbow raising his body; his eyes were narrowing and I sensed the latent aggression that suddenly coursed through him. "What? What are you talking about? What did he make her do?"

And then I remembered. He had told her to keep some things secret. Isobel had not confided this to him. If he had chosen not to read the diary...Oh God, what had I done?

"I'm sorry, Cort...It's nothing...really, nothing..." But it was too late. Cort took me by the upper arms, not ungentle but with a firmness that I understood.

"Tell me. NOW!"

I told him about the night Isobel had spent with Dino and Terry- not details, but enough. I saw the pain in his eyes- the pain of knowledge and the pain of her pretence. They had re-united, he had accepted what he had perceived to be the full story although he clearly had been hurt. This revelation was a step too far.

"Thorne set it up?"

"I don't exactly know how it happened. I mean he says it just happened but she was drunk and they were not. She was upset and he knew it. He would never have accepted it from me and had no right to lead her into it..."

He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. "This Dino. Who the fuck is he? I wanna know."

I wrapped my arms around him and lay on his chest. "He's a really nice guy. You can't blame him. He doesn't know any of you. He just met Isobel and fell for her. He's Terry's friend and they have been wild men in the past. He's not the guilty one. Don't take this out on him."

"I swear if I see Thorne, I don't know if I can keep my hands off him. As God is my witness, Uma, I will ..."

"NO. You won't. Calm down and let's work through this. Cort, I lost the man I love over this and a few other things that I don't really want to go into now. However angry you feel, don't make my mistakes. Don't say anything that you cannot take back. Don't do anything that will break your heart. Isobel is not to blame and she is devastated. She loves you, Cort, and will die if anything happens between you. Think and try to rationalise this. Forgive them, Cort, for they know not what they do. You are bigger than this- you do not need revenge. You are the better man."

He bowed his head and closed his eyes and stayed there deep in thought or prayer or meditation; I did not know which. Then he looked at me and smiled sadly. "Then my job is to bring you to salvation. I will not let you go under, you hear me? You are gonna survive and we will sort this out. Just give us time, Jezabel, my fake Jezabel," he kissed my forehead in a tender, paternalistic gesture, "He'll come back and you will forgive him. He's just a man and men make mistakes. No one knows that better than me."

We lay there a while longer until he whispered, "I need to piss, honey," and he extricated his arms from mine and loped over to the bathroom. I lay and thought upon his words. Would the day ever come when Terry and I could forgive the things we had said? Cort may be asking too much of the Good Lord's mercy.

As he returned across the room, he seemed to notice something at the door. A note had been pushed under. The knocking? Must have been Bou- not my head after all!

Cort read the contents out.

'A Do Not Disturb notice now hangs on your door- they are turning down the bedcovers on this corridor. I thought you might prefer to be left alone. Join us in the bar when you are ready. - Bou xxx'

I grinned. "Bou thinks of everything- she is so cool. Come on- let's grab a shower and get dressed. She will be dying to see you..."

A few days on and we were going to part company tonight. Arthur was taking Bou to dinner and Cort and I planned an evening at the Trocadero - I really could not quite envisage Bou or Arthur for that matter enjoying themselves in that palace of Cool. Cort, now, he was a different animal all together. He would soak up the atmosphere and the place would lap him up too. I'd better keep him away from some of the marauding females who were sure to hang there.

We'd been shopping all afternoon; you know how it's one of my major skills. Bou flagged after about thirty minutes- where is her legendary stamina?- and Arthur showed a distinct distaste for 'wasting money' as he calls it. Wasting money- how can you waste money in a Versace sale? Bond Street was lost on them and I'd had enough of dragging them round. Cort was another matter. He was great and seemed intrigued by the designer shops, hooting at the elegant gentlemen in their black Nehru suits and pencil thin facial art beards, their sun bed tans orange under the stark lighting, as they leered at Cort's lazy stroll and said "Is there anything we can do for you, sir?"

When Bou refused to even try on a really amazing jade green sheath held together, merely by one or two gilded clasps ( they even looked like Celtic brooches, you think she would have gone for that!) and Arthur nearly wet himself at the price tag, I had had it.

"OK. I'm losing you two. Get a taxi and piss off to Woolworths or somewhere. I am not having you lot tell me how to spend that bastard's ill-gotten gains. You got that?"

Cort shook his head as I dispatched them and promised that I might meet them for drinks later but .as spending money made me horny. it was unlikely. Bou gave me the Celtic death look or whatever she calls it and Arthur shook his head and muttered about tax brackets or something, but they were finally out of my hair.

My next port of call was Harvey Nicks. I wanted to get something really English for Cort. I once saw this documentary on Sting about his estate in England where he lives like a lord of the manor. Does the whole huntin', shootin' and fishin' lark. He was dressed in Burberry and made it cool. I guess Cort would too. So we hit the Burberry shop and I kitted him out in the works: soft pure wool pants, hand made leather boots, cashmere jumper, green waxed jacket and a silk cravat. All I needed was a country house and a shooting weekend and I would think that I'd died and gone to heaven.

Cort looked so amazing and wore the clothes as if to the manor born except with a nonchalant insouciance that no English gentleman could ever have managed (they do not have the hips for it, it is a well known fact) I can't say if he will ever wear them- although I'll bet Izzy makes him dress up and play Lady Chatterley's lover or something similar - but he enjoyed it immensely. So did the dresser. This reserved bespoke tailor (clearly gay but well restrained as befits an English queer) was so taken by Cort when he measured his inside leg, that he said:

"Which way do you dress, sir? Right? Left?...or perhaps both sides?" Cort looked at me and I just giggled. I hoped he would keep his hands to himself because Cort had his 'wait for the click expression' on. A casual 'brush' to his lunch box and I think our reserved dresser might be looking for a new set of teeth. I wish we had had the time to do Saville Row and get him a hand made suit and shoes but we will have to do that some other time. I reckon Cort could have an alternative career as a male model- but somehow I don't think he has the patience for it.

We reached the hotel in the late afternoon and Cort threw himself on the bed. What a good idea, I thought as I jumped on top of him. He had been so tolerant of me and had let me spend oodles of money without a single objection. That, to me, is the sign of a man who deserves a reward. Cort, unsurprisingly, agreed with me and indicated the particular reward his little heart desired. I assure you the pleasure was all mine. The man tastes better and better every time- is it something in his diet? Iz- what do you feed him?

We lounged around in the hotel's enormous bath for awhile, sipping Chardonnay (that was me, Cort had a can of Stella) while we fantasised about who I'd like to pick to stand against Cort in a shoot out. No...not who you think...I was working on politicians and game show hosts actually... and the entire Real Madrid football team(as long as he kneecaps them, that will be sufficient).

Bou and Arthur said they would be in the bar at seven for a drink if we wished to join them (actually Bou had added 'if there's nothing left in London for you to buy') but I expect she thought that it was unlikely that we would turn up. So, true to form, I decided to call her bluff. We would have a drink with them and show her that I don't just spend money and fuck for a living.

I did very well for me. Cort only had to ask me about three times when I would be ready; he is very patient. He lay on the bed and drank more beer while I busied myself with my outfit. I reckoned Cort likes his women a bit on the wild side, so I settled on a tight denim knee-length skirt, buttons open to sky high, a low cut top and leather boots. He smirked as I twirled.

"You are one foxy lady. And I love your hair. It suits you. Kind of sassy and cute but still a lady. Come here, darlin', and let this poor boy feel some heat..." I danced over to him and he pulled me down on the bed, straddling me with one heavy thigh and playing havoc with my lipstick. I pushed him away reluctantly.

"Later...let's go meet the others. Come on!"

He complained but dragged himself off the bed and we left the room still wrapped up in each other. Cort wouldn't leave me be, constantly pulling me against him and rubbing himself suggestively against my thigh, my butt, my belly- anywhere he could get a hold. "Cort, don't," I giggled but he was impossible to restrain and I didn't really want him to stop.

We were still playing games as we crossed the lobby and entered the bar. Bou was sitting with Arthur and as we approached, arms around each other and quite clearly 'all loved up' she gave me a curious look, almost shocked. I was surprised and then I realised she was shaking her head and saying "Oh My God!"

I followed her gaze. I almost died. Strolling over towards us came Terry. He hadn't seen either Cort or me, but was smiling over at Bou. Arthur was standing up, that look of adoration on his face that he gets when he is in the same room as his role model completely blinding him to the implications of his innocent invitation. I could just hear him on the phone. "Terry, join us for a drink, why don't you? It would be great fun. I want to tell you all about this temple...you would not believe the things that happen there..."

Cort noticed Terry at the same time that I did. I felt his body stiffen. I swear he would have gone for his guns if he were wearing them. Terry suddenly looked to the right and clocked us. His smile froze on his face and he seemed to turn to stone. All five of us stood looking at each other.

"Is this some kind of fucking joke, Bou?" Terry asked, glaring at her.

Bou said nothing but shot a look at Arthur.

"I didn't know they would be coming. Bou said they'd never get out of bed..." a look of abject horror stole over Arthur's face when he realised what he had said. Bou closed her eyes and rocked slightly. I think she was tempted to break Arthur's neck with her bare hands.

"Don't let me spoil another of your little threesomes, Thorne. I'm not planning on hanging around here." Cort squared up at Terry, who sneered and turned his sights back on to us.

"You shut your fucking mouth, mate. You've made your point. Now piss off before I show you how it's done without a gun. I'd fucking take you apart." His chin shot up and I could see his lack of control. He thought he'd been set up; he imagined we were flaunting ourselves before him. For an instant I felt so sorry for him and wished I could explain.

At that Cort lunged and I grabbed him, holding him back. "No, Cort! That's what he wants. Don't!" Cort breathed heavily but stayed put. The two men continued to eye each other and I could see the Management beginning to hover and security being called. Terry looked away and turned to me.

He grinned coldly. "Got what you want, Tink? A fucking lapdog?" Any sympathy for his feelings flew right out of the window.

I walked up to Terry, slapped his face and turned on my heel. "Come on, Cort, let's go find a nice dark car park. I think there's something we forgot to do." Pulling on his hands, I dragged him from the bar, still staring back at Terry who followed us with his eyes. At the entrance, Cort brushed aside the doormen and gave them a look that made even those burly thugs step back. Hard to explain how gentle Cort could suddenly transform to another kind of man, dangerous and deadly, but it was there in his eyes. I never want to see that look again.

Bugger, bugger, bugger! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Shit, shit, shit! Bloody interfering Arthur!

That was an approximation of the level of thought process passing through my mind as I dragged Cort out of the hotel bar and back to our suite. He said nothing. I suspect his thoughts were even wilder than my own.

As soon as the door was closed, Cort walked to the wall and hit it very hard. I stood back, suddenly a little afraid of the intensity of his anger. Then he sank down onto a chair with his head in his hands.

"Can I do anything for you? Can I get you anything?" I whispered, falling on my knees beside him.

He shook his head,

"Do you need to talk to Izzy?"

He nodded. I handed him his phone and slipped into the bathroom to give him some privacy. As I sat on the edge of the bath, I felt a cold chill settle on my heart. However bad it had been, Terry and I had talked about a meeting and a flag of truce had been proffered. Now we had sunk back to something even worse than before and I had brought Cort into the mess too. And Bou and Arthur. The more I tried the more I seemed to mess everything up. Where to now? Who knows?

My hand slipped into my jacket pocket and I felt the cool metal of my own hand phone. I pulled it out and smiled at it. It was far too complex for me- something Terry had brought for me so that he could mail me even when I was travelling. I'd never got the hang of most of what it could do. Idly playing with the menu, I brought up the address book and scrolled down. The name jumped out at me. I think I had subconsciously made a decision already. Hitting connect, I saw the little telephone symbol rattle away and prayed that no one would answer; and then I prayed that someone would.

"Maximus." I thought about hanging up.

"Is somebody there?" He asked. I took a breath.

"It's me."

Silence.

"Max? You still there?"

"Yes."

"Say something, Max."

"Where are you?"

"London."

"With someone?"

"Cort."

"Why have you called me?"

The open line crackled as I tried to decide what I wanted to say. I felt as though he too was holding his breath. Then I knew there was only one thing I wanted and that I had wanted it for so long that it had become a normal sensation I had come to accept. Through months of separation, hearing of him from others, a word here and a sentence there, reading his painfully honest journals, learning of his relationships with other women which often seemed like minefields that he was treading tentatively, knowing of his own marital struggles and wondering where it left a place for me and finally, those mails that were both brutal and tender, just as he is.

"I need you, Max. I can't go on without you anymore. I've tried but I just can't. Please come to me."

I heard a knock at the bathroom door. I didn't want Cort to know. "Max? I can't talk now. I will be in touch. I'm sorry..." I snapped the phone shut and slipped it back into my pocket as he opened the door.

"You all right? I'm sorry I just lost it there for a minute. Forgive me." Cort looked so contrite and his eyes were misty; I wondered if he had cried.

"Are you all right? What did Iz say?"

"It's OK. It will be fine. We just need time. Time and a bit of help from the good Lord! Come here." He held out his hand and I took it; he pulled me into his arms and we both held on tight. But we were both holding other people- ours were just the bodies that helped to create the fantasy.

Cort walked me to the couch in the lounge and I sat down; he stretched out with his head in my lap. For a while we just lay there, locked in our own private thoughts whilst I ran my fingers through his hair.

"Sing me a song, Uma. I need something to heal my soul."

I thought of what might be appropriate for him at this time of uncertainty in his life. Just a few days ago he had been celebrating a sort of elemental joining, a marriage in the eyes of nature, with the woman that he loved. Now he was trying to hold on to what they had in the face of outside forces undermining the once solid foundation. I hummed the intro for a while as he closed his eyes and then I began to sing the haunting song:

For my wedding, I will dress in black
And never again will I look back
Ah, my dark angel we must part
For I've made a sanctuary of my heart

To want what I have
To take what I'm given with grace
For this I pray
On my wedding day

For my wedding, I don't want violins
Or sentimental songs about thick and thin
I want a moment of silence and a moment of prayer
For the love we'll need to make it in the world out there

To want what I have
To take what I'm given with grace
For this I pray
On my wedding day

I dream, and my dreams are all glory and light
That's what I've wanted for all my life
And if it hasn't always been that way
Well, I can dream and I can pray
On my wedding day

So what makes us any different from all the others
Who have tried and failed before us
Maybe nothing, maybe nothing at all
But I pray we're the lucky ones; I pray we never fall

To want what we have
To take what we're given with grace
For these things I pray
On my wedding day

The room fell silent again and I wiped away the tear that had trickled down my cheek.

"Why not you and me?" Cort asked all at once.

"I don't know. But it isn't," I answered.

"Why is it always that way? God sure does ask a lot of people."

"It isn't God's fault, Cort. We do the things we do and the ripples on the pond spread out far beyond our imagining," I answered.

"I don't want to leave you like this. You need someone to hold you up."

"Not your problem. Make it right for you two. Do that for me. You can get back to where you were. I'm not sure I can. I want to know that some of us made it."

Cort sat up and turned to face me. "We got tonight. Let me heal you in my way." He stood up and held out his hand, sweeping me into his arms as I took it. I rested back on his chest and let him treat me like a little lost lamb who had wandered from the flock. Cort, the good shepherd. I smiled despite myself and hung onto his neck.

The bed was lit by subdued lighting and I stared up at him as he rested me down, his face in shadow. Lowering himself beside me, the bed sinking underneath his weight, I let him love me as if I were an innocent girl. His hands gently swept over me and he pressed his warm wet lips to my forehead, then the tip of my nose and then my mouth, sweet tender kisses, like a blessing. It didn't feel like sex, it was just as he said- healing love, the laying on of hands. A body bringing balm and peace to another troubled soul.

Slowly, oh so slowly, fingers tracing secret patterns on my flesh, he unwrapped and laid me bare, kissing each part of me revealed, as if I were a precious object or a sacred relic. Each contact with his lips made me gasp, shivers running from his caress to every nerve of my body. There was no sound but my sudden exhalations of desire. When his kiss reached my sex, his tongue entering me, it seemed like a rite of something pure and I began to understand the concept of the power of sexuality as a force of nature, of rebirth, of renewal. Tonight I was casting something aside and stepping out alone into the future. Cort's love would be a candle to light my way in the darkness to come.

I lay entranced as he stripped himself and took his place at my side. A man and woman, naked and free to love as God really intended. Precious moments of flesh on flesh passed between us as we kissed with our mouths and let our bodies kiss with touch. How perfect the combination of a man and woman! Hard muscle, strength, legs and arms matted with hair, rough and smooth in turns, steel and silk, ever thrusting - the body of a man. Soft giving, lithe, skin white and delicate, open and deep, offering and receiving- the body of a woman.

But only when the two become one- that exquisite moment when the act is conjoined and touch is replaced by fusion, wholeness, filling and possession - does the real miracle become made plain. Who but a benign deity could bestow such a gift upon the world as this? How unbelievable that two different sexes could for that time be one creature and share the same passion? I wanted to lock up the moment and keep it safe within my heart forever to take out whenever I was lost and alone. I hope I may be able to recall how wonderful the love he gave me was.

He cried out when he came- it was the only sound he had made and then he sank into my arms. He had given me his all and now I wanted nothing more than to hold him until he grew strong again. That is the mark of it all. Strength and weakness given by each in turn True equality.

The next morning I peeped out of the tangle of sheets and crawled back into Cort's arms, still somewhere in a surreal dream that had been so real I had even tasted the peaches. He opened and took me in, like he always does, holding me to him like I were a little child and forcing me to sleep some more- I think he knew I would be my usual restless self. Muttering something and shushing my response, he began to sink back into sleep but...he's a man. They can't fight nature. All I had to do was ease my leg through his and stroke his sleepy cock with my thigh and he was away. With a flip, he rolled me onto my back and rubbed himself against me, head buried in my neck.

"Mornin' darlin'," he grunted and glided sweetly in on the smooth slippery slide of last night's love. "Want some morning love?" I arched and took him deeper, wrapped my legs around him and let him move, slow and easy as he did what nature told him to, his brain still dreaming, mine also far away.

I felt the rising climax as he thrust, now a little wilder, instinctively taking his desire; the grace of his natural rhythm and God-given gifts succeeding in stimulating my need. He hitched slightly. I squeezed down on him and he hit the spot, causing me to cry out and throw my head back, breasts raised before his mouth. As he lowered to suckle me, shuddering his own surrender, I heard him mutter; "Amante." He never calls me that. Nor does he use any other language than English. Isolation suddenly swept over me and a cold river ran through my veins. This is what it is to be free. No one ever calls your name out in the moment.

Moments later he slumped back on the pillow, shaking himself and stretching, the Cheshire cat smile of a satisfied male making him look even more leonine than ever. His accidental error in his ecstasy had clearly passed him by.

"That was some good morning, sweetheart," he grinned and then he rolled out of bed to the bathroom. "I need a shower- come on, let's share the water."

I entered the large glass cubicle and he flipped soap at my face; I smiled - he didn't notice that it was somewhat forced. We washed each other but I didn't linger and I slipped out before he could get any ideas. While he shaved, I dried my hair and dressed.

"Hey, fancy an American breakfast? There's a diner near the hotel, I saw it yesterday afternoon."

I shook my head. "I hate stuff like that for breakfast. You go. It will be a chance for you to wander around a bit. We're not joined at the hip." I saw him look over at me as he toweled his hair and pulled on his jeans. I had been a little snappish. But I needed to be alone.

After he had left, I slipped out of the room and went to breakfast in the hotel. Ignoring the groaning buffet, I ordered tea and a brioche and sat by the window, stirring my cup and dreaming.

"Yooma! I am so glad you are here! Where's Cort?" Arthur slipped in next to me and ordered breakfast.

I frowned. "Cort- he went for a walk. What's all this about? You picked someone up last night? What happened after we left?"

"Er...Bou went after Terry," Arthur said, somewhat hesitantly, "I am so sorry, Yooma. I never thought he would bump into you two. It was all my fault..."

"No. It was just meant to be. Don't think about it. So Bou went and gave him TLC, did she? Well, she's got a soft spot for him, always did," I replied as calmly as I could.

"I don't think so...she wasn't with him long. In fact she seemed rather angry when she came to my room..."

"She came to your room?" Suddenly my sixth sense went on high alert.

"Er, yes...she...er... wanted to see if I was all right, you know."

"Hmm. And now you are ordering breakfast for two and a rose? Spit it out, you cocky little bastard. You did, didn't you, you sly dog? You succeeded where bigger men have failed! God, Arthur- there's no stopping you, is there? Respec' Arthur...we are not worthy!" I held up my hands in praise.

Arthur blushed and suppressed a satisfied smile. "Don't say I said anything, Yooma, she'll go mad...she won't want anyone to know..."

I snorted. "She'll come down with a spring in her step. It'll be bloody obvious. Go back up and bring her breakfast with a rose in your teeth. You might get second helpings then!"

He blushed. "I already had seconds, actually, last night before she slipped off back to her room," he beamed, "But she's not there this morning. I thought that she might be down here. Not to worry. I'll catch her later!" He tucked into his breakfast and I threw the end of my brioche at him. He looked up and grinned. What would I do without him?

As I sat and watched him eat and chat merrily on, I wondered how Terry had passed the night after Cort and I had stormed off. He had been so angry, so hurt, and looked so weary of it all. Whatever had passed between him and Bou, he must have argued with her as well -and then what? Had he lain alone in his empty hotel room, chain smoking and thinking, unable to sleep, knowing I was in another man's arms? Or had he gone out, got wasted and got laid himself? Either way, I wouldn't blame him. I can't ever blame him for anything. I love him too much.

When I returned to the room, I found Cort using my laptop and put my hands on his shoulders to kiss his cheek; he flipped off the window of the IM and turned around rather quickly. I can imagine that he wouldn't have wanted me to read his conversation with Isobel.

"Have you made your mind up?" I asked. Last night he had mentioned leaving early, returning to California and seeing Iz before he went on to Ann. I knew he needed to see Iz and that he was unsure whether he ought to stick around with Terry in town.

"Yeah, darlin'. Will you miss me if I go today?" He asked with a guilty look on his face.

"Course I'll miss you- but I understand. This town ain't big enough for the both of you!"

We laughed and he pulled me onto his knee. "Hey, you. You promised me- you will call him just as you planned. Can't leave it like this. I won't allow it." Cort held me by the chin and made me look at him; he knew I would avoid eye contact if I could.

"OK. OK. I promise. I will call him and I will see him. Not that it will do any good..."

"That is the wrong attitude. Listen to him, let him talk and Uma, honey, for once - bite your tongue! He has a point of view as well, you know?"

We agreed and I helped him pack. I was scared to see him go. The promise of his visit had been the only thing that had kept me going for so long and now it was over, cut short even, I wasn't looking forward to what comes next.

Cort took a train to the airport, saying there was no need for me to do the journey- Heathrow is such a pain at any time of the day. We said our goodbyes at the station just as we had said our hellos there only a few days before. It was almost painful to leave the safe haven of his arms, but he needed Iz and she needed him. I could see he was trying not to show how eager he was to be away.

I took the tube back and wandered Regent Street for a while spending money just for something to do; I hardly remember what I bought. About three, I made my way back to the hotel, my mind made up. I would call him now and make a date to meet him for dinner. If not dinner - then just a drink. But I would not ring off until I had broken through the impasse.

And that's when I saw him.

"Oh my God! What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you." His chin shot out defiantly; I knew the set of his posture.

"You should have called me! I only just said goodbye to Cort. You knew he was here- I told you! How can I see you if he is here?"

"He isn't here."

"But he might have been- you didn't know he was leaving early."

"Maybe I just figured he would."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing. So, I thought you wanted to see me?"

I breathed in and out. "Yes, of course I wanted to see you. But I just...I've had a bad few days. Frankly I just didn't expect this now. It isn't the right time. You and she have to spend time together. I will be a threat to that...maybe you shouldn't have come."

"Let me be the judge of what we need. Come on, let's go up..."

"Just a minute...are you just here to...I mean...couldn't you be a little more delicate about it? I know that's all you want but at least pretend a little?"

He grimaced. "Why the fuck do you always say that? I want some privacy. I thought you would too. I didn't mean go upstairs and screw. Jesus, you got some notion of what kind of man I am..."

"Oh, Bud! I didn't mean to make it sound like that...I'm just on edge these days..." I could feel the catch of tears again in my throat. I simply seemed incapable of expressing myself without sticking my foot in it.

As ever, tears were all it took. He dropped the awkward belligerence and stepped towards me, lifting my head and wiping away the tears that were already pooling.

"Tell me I didn't make you cry, baby?" His look melted me.

"You didn't make me cry, Bud. You never make me cry." I leaned against him and he threw his arm around me as we made our way to the lifts. I suddenly remembered that I had planned to call Terry. I couldn't do it now. It would have to wait.

In the room, Bud threw down his carryon and poured himself a Scotch. I sat on the bed and knew he wanted to talk but he was restless and uneasy, pacing about and on edge.

"Come here." I indicated he should join me and he sat on the bed beside me. Slipping to my knees, I unknotted his tie and slid it off, eased off his jacket and pushed him back on the bed. "I think you're tired and overwrought and you need some sleep. Get a few hours and we'll talk when you're ready."

He let me remove his shoes and socks and help him with his pants. He said nothing but I saw him watch, eyes never leaving me. I threw back the cover for him to get beneath the sheets but he caught my hand and pulled me down beside him. "I want you." His hand covered mine and rested on his groin; he was hard and his breathing was short. He is not a man to be resisted even if it were possible for me to do so. Whatever was the matter with him, he needed comfort and it was a little thing to do. He always gave so much back.

I let him roll me back, undress me, cover me with kisses and caresses, muttering inaudible things, half finished thoughts, his hands on my body like he'd never felt a woman before. I could feel him, was aroused on one level by his hunger for me but another part of me hovered above watching, impartial and unaffected. A voice whispered in my ear- something is wrong here. Neither of you are really happy about this. But I'm good at ignoring voices that are warning me. This was no exception.

Buried in my shoulder, I felt him writhe above me, slide inside, push gently, hushing my rising cries as he went deep and reached his limit. I gasped as he let me feel him, as he waited for me to adjust. Then I let him go, thrusting and pounding, first a smooth rhythm and then harder and more out of control than I really wanted. But his girth would always stimulate me and the bruising pressure of his cock head on my womb brought me off. As I shook and trembled, I squeezed him hard and he shot too, a long sigh uttered as he fought to regain himself.

In the silence that followed, I lit up a cigarette and was surprised when he took it from me and dragged. I have never seen him smoke. He returned it to my mouth, an intimate gesture, and rolled on one arm to look down on me.

"I think I've left her."

"What? Darcy? Why?"

"She played me out. Treated me like a fool. I'm not being a patsy for her to sneak guys in behind my back..."

"Do you mean Terry?" I inhaled deeply on the cigarette and watched the pall of smoke as I blew it through my lips. "She didn't know he was coming. Don't blame her. He's a mess, Bud. I turned him into a complete mess. He's not himself- you know the normal Terry Thorne would never act behind someone's back. You know that..."

"What the fuck do I know? She's been fucking Cort like a tramp..."

"It was just a visit. That wasn't behind your back..."

"What's the difference? She gets off on taunting her sex games in front of me. I would never treat her like that- is that what she wants? I should tie her up and give it to her hard?"

I smiled and stroked his cheek. "Bud, you and me... we've done stuff like that. Don't suppose she liked to read that either. I think we all have a threshold about the person that we love."

"You never wrote it." He was right. I hadn't. Just a few hints here and there but...strange idea...why hadn't I described it? I wasn't really sure. "You never write about me like that. You keep it private, you always did. You keep a lot of things private. I can read between the lines. You say a lot but you say nothing. Know what I mean?"

Bud can be uncannily on the mark when you least expect him to be. Was he saying that I was the least confidential of all of them? Was I? I always thought I said too much.

"We all have different styles of writing. She is a fine writer. She writes it better than me. I don't have her skills. Don't hold her talent against her."

"He asked you not to write about you two and you didn't. You never told about yourselves. I want that. I want something private. This is driving me crazy, Uma. I can't trust her anymore."

"Bud. Don't ask me to answer those questions. I can't even answer my own. All I know is that she loves you and you will kill her if you leave her. There must be another way of dealing with this- don't run and hide. That will not solve anything. All I do know is that staying away from her will drive her straight to another man, and you have nobody to blame but yourself for all your fucking rules about who she can see or can't see. Maybe she's had enough of being dick-whipped by you."

He bridled at that. "Maybe you should take your own advice. Seems you've always done what he said, when he said it. Until this go round. He doesn't like it when you step out of line, does he? " Bud caught my eye and I turned away.

"You don't know all of it. No one does."

"I know. But he's running scared. Even said as much to me. He wants you back. He's gonna try..."

"What? When did he say that to you? When?"

"In a mail a coupla days ago. Told me to leave you alone."

"So you came straight here then?"

"Wasn't like that."

"No?" I fixed him a stare and lit up another cigarette; he shrugged. "Oh shit!" I ran my hands through my hair and wondered what further disasters could rain down on me. "Bud, take a few hours' sleep. We'll talk later. I have to go out for a while. OK?"

He nodded and lay back, staring at the ceiling. I showered and changed, put on a neat suit, nothing too showy but not too plain either, and checked my watch. I called him from the bathroom.

"Thorne." His voice sounded hoarse, too many cigarettes, too much booze and too many late nights.

"You told me to call in London."

"I did, didn't I?" A slight amused sound, almost mocking.

"About last night..."

"Forget it. It was a bad scene. We were both wankers."

"Are you free for dinner?"

"Dinner..." there was a pause. He seemed to be checking something but I didn't believe him. He would know straight away if he had an engagement that night without looking it up. "No, sorry, something on."

"Drink then. Now. Please." I was ready to beg. He didn't answer and my heart beat so fast I thought he might hear.

"Yeah, I can make it. Tiger Bar, Leicester Square. Make it 30 minutes?"

I agreed and the deal was done. He hung up, still brusque and monosyllabic. I finished my makeup and picked up my handbag. Bud was asleep. I kissed his lips for good luck; he murmured and rolled over. Please God, don't let Terry find out he is here!

The bar was already fairly busy, early evening drinkers, the office crowd, smart, slick guys and assertive well-groomed women. I wondered if I fitted in, with my little business suit and Jimmy Choos. He wasn't there, but I was early, so I ordered a glass of white wine and a bottle of Tiger and carried them to a free booth. Moments later, he breezed in with his assured way of walking, surreptitiously surveying the place so that nothing evaded his gaze. I noticed a group of young career women raise their eyes in his direction; he would have noticed although he gave no sign.

Terry strolled straight over to where I was. At a distance he looked good; sharp city suit, overcoat open and flapping as he walked, sharp haircut, sharp shave. Sharp. That's my Terry. But closer I saw the truth- haggard, grey beneath the tan, something haunted in his eyes. He was wary and his expression was guarded. I suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion pass across me. I was tired of fighting.

"Hey- you!" I said as he sat down opposite; I pushed the beer across and he picked it up and took a slug. I watched his throat contract as he drank it down and saw a fresh cut on his neck- he must have just shaved, in a hurry. I also saw the purple bruise above the collar of his shirt; someone had feasted off his neck last night.

"Hello, love" He picked up my cigarettes and took one, lighting it in cupped hands but watching me all the time. I felt distinctly nervous as if he were assessing me, working out what I was going to say.

"I'm sorry about last night..."

"You said that already on the phone. It's not worth talking about. Is that the only reason that I'm here?" His tone was matter of fact. Not aggressive or angry - just business-like.

"No, I told you I thought we needed to talk."

"About the list, you mean?"

"Well, yes, the list ...and other things too."

"The list first. Can it stand?"

"What?"

"I don't want to change things just now. Look, I'm buying a place in London and I'm using this as my permanent base. If you take your name off my list, then someone else may want it...and I think it's better if we leave it open. I want some space. I can't really manage a number one...this job, ya know?"

I swallowed hard. I hadn't even thought about the list. " I thought you and Ann had talked about it?"

"Won't work."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think it's any of your business." If he had slapped my face then it would not have hurt less.

"OK. I stay the nominal number one. I handle the calendar. You play the field."

"I am in the field. I shall be working."

"Right. Working. Excuse me, I forgot, hot shot."

He glared at me and I flushed, aware that I should not have said it.

"When are you going back?" He asked.

"Couple of days."

"Cort still here?" I shook my head.

"You on your own?

"There's Bou and Arthur..."

"Bou starts work, Arthur flies to Izzy tomorrow. So who keeps your bed warm?"

I paled a little at that. "What do you mean?"

He ran his hand down his face. "I'm sorry, that was a cheap shot. Uma...I" He raised his eyes upwards as if hoping for divine inspiration. His whole demeanour changed. It was as if he had suddenly made up his mind and was going to go for it. "...Jesus, I've missed you." He said it. Just like that. I held my breath. " That's what I want to say. I can't bear to think of you with anyone else. Is it too late? Can't we just...Jesus, can't we just have a visit? You've got a few days, I'm here...let's just try...no promises...see how it goes?"

I stared at him. He was saying all the things I wanted him to say. It was the sort of conversation that I'd dreamed. But it was the wrong time. I had Bud White in my bed. And I had lied.

"Er...I....um..." I was flummoxed. He misunderstood and smiled; his hand reached out and covered mine.

"Say we go back to your hotel and let nature take its course? I don't want to fight or talk anymore. I'll show you how I feel...please..."

"No! I mean...it's too soon. I don't know if I'm ready." Ready? I had been ready since the day that he had moved out.

"That's OK. Take your time. Maybe I am rushing you. Unless...was I wrong, Uma? Maybe you don't want this?"

"No, you're not wrong, it's just that...I didn't expect this. I just didn't think that you would say this. I didn't mean for this to happen. I should have rung you earlier...oh God, this is so awful."

"What are you talking about? You're rambling again." He was smiling; the old amused look he got when I was all muddle-headed and weepy about something. Suddenly I felt that the lying had to stop. We needed to be honest with each other.

"Terry...I have to tell you something. I lied. I'm not alone. Bud is here."

"Bud?" He said the one word but his incredulity was tinged with a sudden flare of temper. "Where?"

"In my room."

"In your bed?"

"Well, he was tired...jetlagged."

"You just got out of bed with Bud White, called me and had the fucking cheek to meet me when you're still full of him?"

I whimpered. That's exactly what I had done but it didn't feel like that somehow. "And how many hours is it since you were giving it up to the fucking padre? Christ, did you slip in Arthur in between? Your cunt must get more action than the main runway at Heathrow. What the fuck am I doing here? Opening up my heart to you? So you can step on it again? Jesus Christ, I need fresh air."

He lurched out of the seat and stormed out, brushing aside other drinkers who stared at him. I sat still as a mouse in the dark booth while my heart broke.