TERRY: [I'm sitting in the lounge of the Duques del Cardona, a parador somewhere to the north of Barcelona in the hills.. It is a ninth century castle, so the guide books tell you, perched on a precipice overlooking the valley of the Cardoner . I am sipping on a good local red, a vintage Rioja - a romantic choice, but it suits the mood I'm in. I know you well enough to expect your getting ready to take some time and I'm willing to be patient. We've waited a long time for this, and there's no sense in rushing for the barn gate now - yet I wear my longing for you like a rich cologne and barely bother trying to hide the fact that I'm watching for you to enter the lounge. I am clearly a man who is waiting for a special woman, and without my speaking a word, everyone who sees me knows it.]

UMA: [I smooth down the silken drape of the dress and lick my lips; they are suddenly dry; a pulse is beating in my temple. I am nervous. It is a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. There was something distant and dreamy in your mood today on the drive up. We talked a little, stealing glances across and exchanging smiles, but mostly listened to music and looked at the scenery. Now I see you at a distance, nursing a glass of red, miles away; you don't even appear to recognize me at the door, although you are staring my way- it is not like you. ]

TERRY: [I become aware of your arrival through my senses - first a tickling prickle at the short hairs along the back of my neck, then the sound of the Maitre D' greeting you, and finally, the movement of heads turning, because, yes, you are exquisite tonight, and heads do turn to take in your arrival - mine among them....And in that moment when I turn around and see you, a slow smile begins on my lips and works its way up to my eyes. Even the lights appear to glow in a new way, designed to enhance your elegant beauty tonight. Gentleman that I am - or rather can be when I set my mind to it - I rise to greet you as you approach.]

UMA: [Someone speaks to me...I don't really listen. I just want to look at you. Sometimes the sight of you makes me tremble like a leaf on a tree in autumn. You look over at me and see me for the first time. I watch your  eyes light up. Your eyes. You stand up and I start to walk towards you, a little self-conscious in your gaze, unsure and gauche. You always seems to know what to do and I always seem to be ill at ease. I want you to be proud of me but I feel like a child pretending to be a grown up, wearing her mother's clothes for make believe. I don't feel that I can really be this woman, in this place, with this man.]

TERRY: [I note your subtle unease as you come closer and wonder if I got the dress wrong. It seemed so right when I chose it, simple, elegant, almost like a vintage wedding dress, but with sleek lines I knew would show your slim figure to perfection. And it does. You look perfect. I love the worried knit to your brow as you cross the room and the way your fingers are playing nervously with the beading on the dress. You look like a little girl in a woman's body.

UMA:  [You look magnificent, as ever. Strong like a rock, cut and shaped by a sculptor's hand, dressed in a subtle but virile way- no flamboyance, no desire to attract attention, but the eyes of every man and woman in the room are upon you. You command that even when you do not try. Especially when you do not try.]

TERRY: (I reach to touch your hand, offering warmth, reassurance and clearly my approval as you move within reach) . Uma... you're breathtaking, love.

UMA: (I blush.)  Really? Does it look all right? I wasn't sure. (I feel your touch and wonder if the surge of heat that races like electric current through me is surging in you, too.)

TERRY: (I lean closer to bestow a light kiss of greeting, then my lips slide to rumble a whisper into your ear.)  ... Every woman in the room would be jealous - if any existed for me. (Despite my little wink, you can tell that the sentiment is authentic. Tonight, of all nights, I want to bring you nothing but my honesty.)

UMA: You charmer... (But I know it is true for you.. Does anyone exist in this room for either of us tonight?)

TERRY: (Leading you to your seat, following all the courtly gestures). And all you had to do was kiss one frog. Suddenly, I feel like a prince.

UMA: (I laugh, glad for the release of tension that had been building all the day.) So that explains the castle. Am I Cinders in her new ball gown?

TERRY: (Your laughter makes my smile stretch wider, and I nod. You're onto me.) Did you pack your glass slippers?

UMA : A girl never leaves home without them- just in case! Thought you knew that?

TERRY: (My chin ducks a little as my pleased smile turns a shade shy, peeking up at you from under the fringe of my lashes. Although the bantering speaks of our familiar intimacy, tonight I feel new with you - as though we are about to pen our Happy Ending together... and yet, as anyone knows, Happily Every After is only the beginning.) Not Cinders. You're the princess. The real princess.

UMA: Get on with yourself, boy! (I giggle at his nonsense but I flush all the same at the compliment. You seem suddenly shy, as if you aren't quite sure what to say. I want to make it easy for you but I am afraid that I will spoil the moment. I am afraid of saying something flippant, or of trying to be too clever.)

TERRY: (My fingers stroke the back of your hand where the skin feels so smooth and silky.) You'd best keep those slippers handy, love... dancing is definitely on for later.

UMA: Ah, Dancing... and you know what dancing leads to... (I flash my eyes at you and tut primly.)

TERRY: (My grin tugs at my lips again, but my takes up residence in my eyes and betrays me.)  Tell me.

UMA: (I widen my eyes and let the tip of my tongue protrude from my lips. But I say nothing. I don't want this to become mere wordplay.)  Buy me a drink, Prince Charming? (I change the subject not wishing to spoil the romance of the moment with shallow innuendo.)

TERRY: (My eyes continue to twinkle at you as I rub a circle on your wrist, my lips pressing at the smile that seems to continually blossom and unfold across my face. Was I any less sure of this, I'd feel like a fool.)  I was just about to offer. Champagne? Or something stronger?

UMA: I'll have whatever you have. (For once I simply want decisions taken for me. I want you to lead. It is what you love to do. It is what I hardly ever allow from you.)

TERRY: [My eyes flick to a spot over your shoulder as our waiter approaches, classically attired in cropped jacket and full of smiles for what he assumes are the Newlyweds. Without missing a beat, I order us a bottle of excellent champagne and he nods approval, then slips off to retrieve our order. His smile seems to say "What else would lovers order?"]

UMA: I know you...you look pleased with yourself... What are you planning for us?

TERRY: (I shift in my seat and lick at my smile.)  Honestly?

UMA: Yes, honestly. (You are  beginning to fidget, a dead giveaway when you are rattled or nervous, or excited. It is a charmingly boyish habit that is in direct contrast to your intense masculinity.)  ...or are you going to keep surprising me all night?

TERRY: (I lean closer, taking your hand across the table, my leg brushing yours beneath the linen, my tone rumbles to a low purr)... Something old.... something new... (My eyes on yours finish the old adage with a slight lift of the brow.

UMA: [I had felt it when my eyes first rested on the dress but it had seemed a ridiculous notion. But everything about your behavior seemed to point to this meaning. Is this what you wish for us tonight?  Are you  trying to say something -without actually saying it?  You are wise. Words are too dangerous. You move nearer to me now. Your leg is resting against mine. I slip off my shoe and run my foot until I feel your flesh above the cool wool of your dress socks. You sigh slightly, almost imperceptibly.]

TERRY: (I lift your hand to my lips, brushing a light kiss across your fingers; my eyes remain on yours, heat smoldering beneath the glow.)  Do you know how hard it is to sit here across with you looking like that? All I want to do is make love to you, princess.

UMA: (You need a response- you have been direct, I see you do not have the patience to play. You are a real man despite your cool smooth operator style. Tonight, you seem to have shed that image. Only sparks of it slip through and then they seem to reveal real truths, not glib lines.)  Can we change the order? Can they deliver? (I smile and tilt my head to the side, coy but inviting. I know it is what you want me to say. It is how I feel anyway.)

TERRY: (My smile spreads wider at that.)  I'm certain of it.

UMA: Make sure it's waiting for us. I'm thirsty. (I lick my lips and you breathe in sharply, my innuendo clear.) 

TERRY: [I move to pull back your seat for you at which point the waiter appears with our champagne. Having guided you to your feet, I pluck the bottle from his tray and hand the flutes to you.]

TERRY: On our room, please, mate.

WAITER: Certainly, Mr. Thorne. (He smiles, unflustered and unsurprised. Lovers will be lovers.)

UMA: [I want no more game play. I want you. We snatch the glasses and the bottle and make for the door. I try to appear composed but I know what it looks like to everyone. I don't care. It makes me smile. Delicious to advertise our desire to a room of prurient gazes. I toss my head and make sure that all have seen me.]

TERRY: [The first leg of the ride in the lift up is excruciating as we're joined in the car by an older British couple. He's blustering about how he prefers the Azores, you ignore him with a smile. My free hand finds yours, fingers tickling the lines on your palm. Luckily, they're off at the first stop and the moment we're alone, I turn to you, the heat in my eyes baldly exposed now, rolling off of me like a primal scent.]

UMA: [It always happens to me. Some bloody old biddies get into the lift and try to engage us in conversation. I smile and turn away. Your fingers tickle mine as I push slightly against your body, needing the contact. Now we are alone. You step towards me and I shiver. You seem so manly, so predatory. It makes me feel weak.]

TERRY: [My eyes move over your face, drinking you in at a glance, reading all the signals that tell me that you're as ready and eager for this as I am. Beneath the hunger in your eyes, I can clearly read the understanding between us, what this night means for both of us. I will claim you as my own and you will do the same.]

UMA: [I am finding it hard to breathe- I feel swamped by you, the scent of your cologne masking another fragrance- the real smell of you- as if you are an animal and I am your bitch. I recognize you by your musk.  I wonder if you can smell me, too, beneath the cloying French perfume. My sex is weeping its own scent.]

TERRY: [My body turns towards yours, pressing you against the back wall of the car, your name, Uma, a whisper imprinted upon my kiss as my lips brush over yours, then begin to feast with a tender intensity.]

UMA: [Our lips touch and then we launch ourselves into the taste of each other. The metallic ding of the elevator breaks us apart.]

TERRY: C'mon. (I take your free hand impatiently, hearing the glasses clink melodically in your other and begin to lead you to our room. I am torn between desire and the longing for this to be perfect for you. I have done you so much harm. I have hurt you so badly. You did not reproach me, merely tearing at yourself. The memory of that still makes me ashamed.)

UMA: [You pull me sharply down the corridor, I have to run to keep up with you. You are on a mission now and nothing will slow you down.]

TERRY: [There's a tightness between my legs, a heaviness that no doubt spoils the line of my suit, but I don't care. My need to close this final gap between us is too great to bother with trifling details. This is not the time for talk, and all too recently, we've used our words as weapons, raised in anger to wound. Words are not something that I trust in a moment like this,.We are both far too practiced at making them dance while hiding behind cleverness. No, this is a time for feeling and for sharing, for letting our hearts and bodies speak for us. Our bodies have always been honest, at least, and I know that you're reading mine clearly- I need you and I need you now.]

UMA: (You fumble for the key card, dropping my hand and thrusting the bottle under your arm. You reach beneath your jacket and I catch a glimpse of your groin, the outline of your shaft clearly visible even against the well tailored pleating. I hear my own whimper.) Hurry up. Open the door!

TERRY: [I get the door open, all but dropping the bottle in my haste, then pull you inside. My body presses to yours in an instant, the weight of our embrace closing the door behind us as my hungry lips find you. I fumble for the latch, engage it, and now, we are truly alone - nothing held back, just the two of us, coming together as we were always meant to.]

UMA: [We are inside. You throw me back against the door and kiss me, I reach for your neck and pull myself even closer. I want to get inside you. I want you inside me. I want to touch you, taste you - I am unsure where to go first in my desperate need.]

TERRY: [I let the bottle drop - $120, and I couldn't care less if it breaks- all that matters now is touching you, the need to climb inside you and get under your skin. One hand slips up into your short blonde hair as the other slides over the silken smoothness of your dress. I can feel the heat of your skin beneath my palm.  Your scent rolls across my senses intoxicating me as my big hand slides up to cup your small firm breast.]

UMA: (You take over, urgent, hungry, your hands possessive on me, holding my neck and finding my breasts. There is a sensation of ownership- you of my body, I of your need.)

TERRY: [You've never understood why I love your breasts, or never believed it, despite my obvious show of pleasure. So many women spend their time listening for confessions of love in an expected form that they seldom hear the many ways men shout it out, loud and clear... And it is thus with my love of your breasts. The soft mounds under my palms are a pleasure in and of themselves, but are also symbolic of you as a whole - somewhat delicate, but able to nurture and feed, when called upon to do so. Impossible to ignore, yet not all puff and flash. Often enhanced through false means, a mask of sorts, yet, they fit so perfectly in my hands that the feel makes me ache. Simply put, they remind me of my need for you on every level.]

UMA: [You pull away suddenly, breathing deeply, a wild look in your eyes. You take the flutes from my hands and let them fall. Sweeping me into your arms, you carry me to the bed. I nestle in the crook of your neck, inhaling you, man aroused, sweat mingled with desire, cloaked in the mask of the urbane gentleman.]

TERRY: [I lay you back across the cushion and slide my jacket off, letting it fall carelessly by my feet. I can feel the animal need within me on the rise, washing away all pretense of gentility and leaving only my desire - exposed and hungry for you. I manage to get my cufflinks into the pocket of my trousers, a last effort at retaining any semblance of Prince Charming, then my hands are working to loosen my tie and pull off my shirt as my feet dislodge my shoes.]

UMA: [You begin to undress. You slow yourself but I can sense your impatience. Everything about you says 'want, need, take' although I know you desire to make this moment special. It is special. Whatever you want of me, it is what I want to give. It is how I feel, too. I am as much driven by my nature as you are. I  feel unusually passive. I want to let you free and see what you will do. This feels like your fantasy. I want you to make it mine.]

TERRY: [Stripped down now to my tented trousers, I lean down, braced on my palms over you. My eyes devour you and then my lips follow suit, making a meal of your flesh, beginning with your lips, moving to your long, fine neck with rough little bites interspersed with soothing licks and kisses. My breathing comes in hard little bursts, sounds like purring growls rising from the back of my throat as I feast on you.]

UMA: [You are above me, on me, over me, lips and teeth rough and urgent, like a large cat feasting on its prey, low notes of satisfaction in your throat. You scare me a little but it is a good feeling. I know you are not playing- this is real. I know you want me and I love your passion and inability to disguise it. There is something helpless about it, tender and vulnerable. My hands reach for your cock, drawn by that instinct to be penetrated which makes my cunt surge. I stroke you through the barrier of the fine pure wool cloth. Is it my own lips that make that desperate sound at the feel of your hardness, thick and prominent, reaching for me?]

TERRY: [I hiss in a breath as your small, fine hand finds my cock. I wonder if you can feel the throbbing need that feels so apparent to me. I lower to my elbows, laying the length of my body over yours. My hand finds your breast through the fabric of your dress again, my blunt thumb rubbing your nipple to pert hardness as I do something I haven't done before - quite intentionally, I take a sharply sucking bite of your neck, designed to leave a bruise - marking you as my mate, my woman, my own. You belong to me, and tonight I want the world to know it.]

UMA: (I gasp at your bite and it makes me wilder. I suddenly wish you had drawn blood and do not know where the notion came from. You would never hurt me. I rip at your zip and search until I touch your naked flesh. It sears my palm. I squeeze hard and pull the skin back sharply. I want to hear you react. I want to feel your pain. And then I want to kiss it better.)

TERRY: Ssssfffff! Jesus, luv... yesssss.

UMA: Oh God...let me taste you...I have to... in my mouth...

TERRY: (My lips and teeth find your flesh with a fresh hunger, nipping and sucking at your skin as my free hand pushes impatiently at your beautiful dress. Your words only serve to inflame me further, increasing the hot pulse between my legs. With a small groan, I roll onto my back, pulling you atop me in the same move, wanting you to make good your promise.) Mmmm, yesss. Take me in your mouth.

UMA: [I fear you will rip the dress to shreds; I don't care if you do. I want you to lay me bare and cover me with your naked self. You pull away and lie back, kicking off your pants and dragging me to you. You want me to suck you. I lower my lips to you but hover, breathing on your shaft as I gaze at it. Your cock seems to flex towards me or are you arching yourself? I hear the soft exhalation of air between your lips as you try to calm yourself.]

TERRY: [I can feel your hot breath on my aching cock, both tease and promise.]

UMA: [I inhale you before I kiss your tip, my tongue searching out your tiny hole and lapping at the pearl of oozing moisture there. You taste salty- sweet and I am greedy for more.]

TERRY: Ohhh... ohhyehhh. (The fingers of one hand slip down into your hair, not guiding, not insistent, but simply there to complete the connection between us for now.)

UMA: [I lower my mouth, close around your girth, try to slip you as deeply as I can, relax and take you in. I don't want to hurt you but you are so thick.]

TERRY: Hoh.. Uma... yes, love...

TERRY: [My rough fingertips stroke your scalp encouragingly, my heavy-lidded eyes fix on the site of your soft lips stretching wide to encircle me - always such a sight to watch you suck me down this way.]

UMA: [I take your base in one hand. I jerk you slowly as I suck, trailing a pattern with my tongue. I trace the throbbing vein and flicker the ridge of your swollen head.]

TERRY: [My free hand stretches to reach inside the top of your rucked-up dress, fingers cupping your breast, then closing down to tease and tug at your pert nipple. I'm breathing roughly through my mouth now, the tip of my tongue slips out to wet my lips as I reel, dizzy with the pleasure your attentions elicit.]

UMA: [I know you will not last long. One hand reaches to stroke and cup your balls and the tender flesh beneath. You are near...it has been too long.]

TERRY: (I hiss in a breath and my back arches as your free hand teases lower, my legs spreading slightly to accommodate your touch.) Oh... oh God, Uma... yes.

UMA: [I don't care about myself. I want this for you. For all you have done for me and for all the times I have hurt you. But it is for me, too. I want to feel you shudder into my mouth, to gag on your sweetness. The ultimate intimacy. To drink of you.]

TERRY: [Another low moan rises from deep in my chest as my fingers roll your nipple.]

UMA: (You try to touch me, pleasure me, your hand on my breast but you cannot help yourself. I know you are too far inside your need. I have driven you to this. Tonight. And over many lonely nights. I wish I could love you until the debt was paid.)

TERRY: (My head falls back, panting now, so close, too close to stop myself , although this is not the consummation I'd envisioned... but there will be a time for that, too, I know.)  Oh. Oh God. Baby. Yes - Jesus, yes! Don't stop. My hips lift rhythmically, following the enticing pull of your lips and hands and I can feel the fire tighten then begin to spread until I feel myself hitch once, then begin to spill into your mouth. Is there a greater show of love than a woman willing to drink down her man's seed? Gulping greedily at every spurt and milking for more? )

UMA: (I feel the moment when you capitulate. You do not fight; you surrender to my will. You mutter inanely, encouragement I do not need but welcome. I will never stop. Until you are finished. You shudder and I feel the waves of your cum. I struggle to drink you up, afraid you will be too much. I count- an absurd thing to do- to stop myself from gagging until I have swallowed everything. I lick you gently. I want it all.)

TERRY: (Your mouth is unrelenting, your tongue making me gasp and shiver as it moves over my sensitive head, like a kitten seeking every last drop I have to offer.)

UMA: (I wonder how it feels to you? Can it feel like you make me feel?)

TERRY: (When my vision clears and my mind returns, a slow smile begins as a glint in my eyes, then spreads until my whole face is awash in leonine bliss.)

UMA: (I pull away and look at you. You looks so beautiful, so without artifice or guile. Just absurdly happy. Not cool. not macho, just yourself. It's what I want. Like a little boy. Well, a rather big boy. The thought makes me smile. I feel suddenly playful, lighter, released. No longer afraid I will spoil this fragile moment.)

TERRY: (My hands reach down for you, my tone thick and as lazy as my smile, my accent thickened by pleasure.)  Mmmm, c'mere, love... come up here and lay with me while I catch my breath.)

UMA: (I curl up in the shelter of your arm, my face nuzzling your nipple, my fingers playing with the hair on your chest. You reach down and ease me up to you, your lips tasting me, tasting yourself. It feels highly erotic as I pass on your gift.)

TERRY: (I brace myself for my own pungent taste in the kiss and accept it willingly, another tiny intimacy shared, another form of closing the gap. My big arms curl around you, holding you close as I breathe in your scent. Beneath your perfume and the heat of your flesh is something else, the scent of your sex, like an invitation to dance that I intend on pursuing. I want to fill your dance card, write my name all over it, and fill you with myself, rocking you in my embrace until you know, without question, beyond any doubt that you are mine.)

UMA: (I realise again how small you make me feel next to you. I love our contrasts- we are so different- like the opposite ends of a spectrum. And yet we are so alike. I don't know why. You feel like myself. How can that be?)

TERRY: (We lie in silence. I want to tell you everything but have no idea how to start. So I say nothing. Memories rear up before me - of times we have loved before, of times we have hated. There is so much history. So much to rebuild. But for the first time, in so long, I dare to believe we might get there.)

UMA: I love you, Terry. Just simply love you. I don't know what else to say. (I roll over you so that I can see your face as I make the simple declaration. I have said the words to you countless times but somehow they seem fresh and new. I see the change in your eyes as you listen; there is a deepening, a hope there.)

TERRY: You have no idea...I don't even know how to begin...[I shrug, a wry grin, my eyes raised]...I love you above all things...

UMA: That's enough. More than enough. Say it once a day for ever and I won't ask for anything else...ever...(I feel the prick of unshed tears and let the first drops roll down by face. Your hand reaches out, touches my cheek; your thumb brushes them away)

TERRY: (I love her tears even as they break my heart. I feel so full of pain for what we did but it sharpens my joy; how to feel pleasure without the knowledge of loss?)

UMA: Look at me!( I lie back, sniffing back the tears, and point to my dress, rumpled and creased. I am still wearing one shoe. You are naked, at ease, soft and mellow] I look like Miss Haversham! [I start to giggle]

TERRY: Who? [I raised myself on one arm, smiling, confused. Your grasshopper mind has launched itself into some lateral path again. My brain is still too sex-fulfilled to follow. Your giggles increase at my expression. I know you will get sillier now. I start to laugh, like a fool, still with no idea what you mean]

UMA: Miss Haversham! Little Pip! Estella! Charles Dickens.

TERRY: Right. Great Expectations. What the fuck made you say that? [ I try to recall some sense in your train of thought. You are laughing and wriggling, drawing up your slender legs and rocking back and forth- giddy, madcap, hysterical- the crazy woman that I love]

UMA: She wore a wedding dress for fifty fucking years or something. Until it caught fire. I don't know why I'm laughing! It's not even funny. It's a really sad scene. But I just thought of myself in fifty years' time still fucking about in this dress...( I know why I'm laughing. I am so full of happiness- it spills out of me like a wave of relief- it feels like orgasm.)

TERRY: (I shake my head and laugh. I've never met anyone like you. There is no one like you. I want you to drive me insane for the rest of my life. You are what I need - through you I can feel what it is to be alive. To live without control or public face. To simply be. You jump off the bed and hop, pulling off the shoe and scuttle across the room, in that sudden whirlwind way you have that spoils the casual elegance that you carry.) What now?

UMA: I'm thirsty. I told you. You never even gave me a drink. Oh yes you did, cheapskate, didn't you, and it left a funny taste in my mouth. Like when you've eaten MSG.[ I smack my lips and pull a face. You snort and shout "Christ- you're mental!"]

TERRY: [You grab the bottle and the glasses- unbroken- the pile of the carpet is thick. I watch you as you turn to a vanity case spilling makeup and jewellery and rummage around, the champagne under your arm and the flutes in one hand. Suddenly you say 'Yes!" and run back dumping the bottle and glasses at me and bounce onto the bed, dragging a cigarette from a packet. I take it from you and throw it and the packet and matches on the floor.]

UMA: Hey! You have to have a fag after. I'm sure it's a rule. [ I pull my tongue out at you. You put on that smarmy smile, the one that says you are going to trounce me.]

TERRY: You haven't had any. I have. And this is my fantasy- and you with a fag hanging out of your mouth is not in it -OK? [I purse my lips and watch yours widen into a smile as I begin to open the bottle.

UMA: Be careful! It was lying on its side. It will spurt all over. [ I back away instinctively. You laugh and shake the bottle- pointing it at me.]

TERRY: Just get your mouth over the end, Tink. You never miss a drop. Spurting's your speciality, isn't it?

UMA: Who's spoiling the moment now? You crude bugger! [It feels so good, so right now to talk like this. I am heady with so many sensations that I already feel drunk on you. You smile and turn away to pop the cork; the liquid fizzes all over the carpet. You begin to fill a glass, hand it towards me, shaking the drops from your hand and arm. I walk slowly up to you, smiling at your nakedness and how you are sucking your hand clean.] Sucking is my job. [I tease as you fill the second.]

TERRY: No. You've had your ration. My turn now. Cheers! [ I raise the second glass, we clink and sip. My eyes never leave your face nor yours mine. Suddenly the mood changes; we both recognize it.] Come closer. [You set the glass down on the table by the bed and move until you are standing directly before me as I sit on the edge of the bed. I widen my legs, you move closer still. I place my glass next to yours and reach for you. Your legs, veiled by the shimmering fabric, rest against the inside of mine. I press play on the CD by the bed. A favourite of yours begin. The words seem so reflective of us both...

...if I ever lose my faith in you....there'd be nothing left for me to do

UMA: (I hear the song, smile and return to you. Your look burns with sexual heat and promise. Your body is displayed before my gaze; you want me to look, enjoy, be aroused by you. I sweep my eyes down from your hair, unruly now, past the face I love so well, down your torso, recognizing every hill and valley of your musculature, remembering the flaws and scars that endear me most, on down to the center of your masculinity, thick scruff of hair, heavy balls spreading on the smooth white cotton, the soft droop of your cock flopping to one side. And then the miracle as, before my eyes, it straightens, unfurls, weaves to one side and then another, seeking, sensing, inhaling the scent of feminine desire so close.)

TERRY: (I see your eyes on my body, they feel like touch. The instant that you so openly appraise my nakedness, I know the familiar surge of heat, the welcome hardness creeping from my base, slow at first and then faster as you watch, your eyes clouding with overt lust - a powerful aphrodisiac for any man.)

UMA: (You grow before my eyes. I always love to watch, my fascination with this incredible organ never sated. The tip rears towards me, its deep crimson darkening still, its girth restored, dancing proudly in my gaze. It speaks silently of strength and power, of delicate fragility, too, exposed and proffered, leaving the safe nestling between your legs to reach out for a new haven in which to rest.)

TERRY: (My hand reaches for your zip, hidden in the seam of the dress, snaking down your slim profile. I pull it slowly until the end and then slip the shoulders of the dress down your arms, taking my time, taunting us both to reveal your body. You are naked beneath except for silk panties, the fine lace revealing your neat dark brown hair, the erotic shadow that clothes your sex. I want to see all of you. My hands ease them down and they fall to your feet, along with the discarded dress. I utter a low rumble at the sight of your loveliness)

UMA: (I stand still as a statue as you strip me, your big hands and thick fingers moving softly down my skin. For a moment I feel like the virgin that the dress seems to imply and wonder again at your motives. Why do you wish to see me this way? Why do I desire to be like this for you?)

TERRY: (My hands feel like sensors; every inch of you is familiar and yet it seems strange to touch you in the flesh. I am used to memory of you alone. I catch your gaze, serious, intense, thoughtful, as I nervously caress your naked breasts and your slender belly, slip round to cup your buttocks and then pull you against me, bury my head against you, unable to keep my lips from contact with your skin.)

UMA: (For a moment I think you will cry; I do not know how I would deal with that. But you recover and draw back. I am still standing, straight-backed, my legs together while your hand rests on my groin and you stroke gently, a light pressure on my covered clitoris, the warm glow irritating and spreading that will precede my arousal. I sense it travel outwards and beyond- into my cunt and the inevitable moistness that it causes, heating my lower belly, a band of desire spreading out to reach my womb. Instinctive signals that inform my eager body that its mate is at hand; a biological force compelling me to surrender to the man before me)

....Love is stronger than justice. Love is thicker than blood...

TERRY: (As I touch you intimately, I feel the change in your demeanour. Your legs stiffen and then sag a little, there is a clenching and releasing in your groin. You seem to both attract and repel my attentions. The pleasure is too tantalising)

UMA: (You push me away and then part my legs, your hands gentle on my upper thighs. Bringing your legs together you draw me back to stand straddling your knees. I feel the thick hair of your lower leg against my softer skin)

TERRY: (My fingers slip between your legs and I touch the naked flesh. The tiny hanging lips of your labia seem to shiver as I brush past and a lick of thick cream coats my probing fingers. I open up the fleshy petals and follow the trail of your juice to slide one finger inside your tight passage, opening you out for me, my cock becoming even harder as the touch sends a current of memory to me.)

UMA: (I drop my hands to your shoulders, desperately needing contact and support. Your fingers are relentless but tender and my body bears down upon you, contracting and surging against your hand. But I long for more. My mind is filled with the desire to be filled by you. This is not enough. I want more.) Terry....no....God, no...

TERRY: Yesssss...[ My voice hisses as I feel you grind down on my hand and my thumb flickers over your clitoris. You let out a sudden gasp, plaintive and pleading, your head drooping and your legs beginning to give. I am afraid I might hurt you if you slump down]

UMA: Terry, please...Jesus...I can't stand it....Ohhhhhhhhhh no....... (you withdraw your hand, slowly and help me to settle on your knee, sliding me along to rest cunt against cock as you take my neck and kiss me, your tongue mimicking the exploration of your fingers. I sigh into your mouth and hold you close, your hair thick and sensuous in my palms.)

TERRY: I have to feel you.. Lift up..put your feet down, come on, baby, stay with me... (I steady you as you whimper, still clinging to my head and lower you onto my cock) Uma, baby, help me..use your hands...put it in...Sweet Jesus....Christ....Yeahhhhh." (I cradle your small buttocks as you ease yourself down; your tight walls rhythmically close round me and swallow me up - you are so wet and hot that I gasp.)

UMA: (You hurt me a little until I relax and move with you. This position is difficult to control, it is all or nothing as I sit upon you and wrap my legs around your hips. My cry of pain becomes a sigh of pleasure as the sweet sensation of full and deep floods through me. I writhe upon your hardness, groaning now and hungry, losing sense and perspective.) I want you, Terry, fuck me, Jesus....fuck, fuck, fuck....

TERRY: (You are going too fast. I want to slow you down. I want to make this last - it is not about release- it is something different. This is my commitment to you. I want you to know that here on this night in this bed everything begins anew. The future is now and we will make a story together that is strong enough to stand any test.)

Will you stay with me? Will you be my love?.....
We'll forget the sun in its jealous sky as we lie in fields of gold...

 

UMA: ( You are so strong that you can raise my entire body as you thrust with your hips against me. I feel you slow me down, force me to go with a different pulse, like a heart beat, strong but steady, and we kiss again, lips dragging and tugging, tongues playing intimate games of catch with each other's. Weakness drains through me and I am helpless in your arms.)

TERRY: (With difficulty, because my body does not want to part from yours, I pull out and roll you to lie on the bed beside me. Slipping to my knees, I gently place your feet onto my shoulders and then settle down in the valley of your thighs, baring you wide open to my eyes. I want to stare at the abandoned eroticism of your crudely displayed sex- the forbidden sight, the hardcore image that at this moment takes on a new meaning. Your red inflamed dripping sex, still open from the thrusting of my cock is like a tender wound, blood- tinged flesh, flower wildly crushed for my desire. From the hardened bud tipped out from its tiny sheath to the orchid of your lips, the yawning hole of your vagina that seeks to ensnare me and the pink and puckered ring of your anus - I look and long. My mouth waters for your taste. My cock burns for your touch.)

UMA: (I am at that moment when sexual desire finally takes over and I become a female animal with rutting as my only thought. I writhe before your gaze and want you to do anything you wish. Nothing would be denied to you now. Your mouth nears me and your breathe blows cool on my heat. I moan and raise myself to you, acknowledging your control. This is your feast- take what you will from me.)

I never made promises lightly...and there are some I have broken
But I swear in the days still left, we'll walk in fields of gold

 

TERRY: (Your smell fills my nostrils, like a path to my senses. I take my tongue and dip into your cunt, swirl around, coat myself in you and then continue to savour the textures and the tastes. Your lips are soft, your bud is hard, the slightly rougher creases around your little butt hole. I want to climb inside your body like some parasite, or make you part of me. It is a heady and dangerous moment when a man can lose his way and forget this is a duet of love. I have an urge so strong to take and penetrate you until I come- that seems more powerful than my love for you- but something holds me back and restores my control. I breathe heavily, deep and slow until I am master of myself again.)

UMA: (Mindless pleasure grips me; I cling to any part of you that I can reach to anchor me. I struggle to escape, I press you deep against me. The pressure of my orgasm rises; I need to come. My body writhes to rub itself against your face because you are not me, you cannot feel that I need you here and here and here....my fingers long to join your mouth...I beg you...) Make me come...make me come....more, more....(And in that moment you take me there... I knew it... you know me so well...and I am free.....)

TERRY: (I can feel your struggle, that final moment when I fear I shall fail you- but your peak comes. Your body stiffens and then loosens, your thighs grip my neck; you buck back and then wave after wave of violent current passes through you. I hold on, drink the flood that pours from you, feel the tremor and after shock of every lap and nuzzle around your sensitive flesh. You begin to quieten, little mewling sounds replacing the wild cries of moments ago. Pride infuses me - I gave you this, I am a man, I can give my woman pleasure.)

UMA: (Gently, so gently, you lift me to lie on the pillows and creep to cover me as I lie and observe you, unable to do anything but watch you come to me. You kneel over me, lift my legs about your waist, hold your cock and jerk yourself as I watch, then dip to bathe in the slick moisture of my cunt. I whimper as you brush, a little roughly over my aching clitoris, but I welcome the bruising sensation. I reach to stroke you, stroke the thick shaft and ruffle the brown hair at the base. You push my hand away and find your entry. For an instant you hover there, your eyes and mine interlocking and then you whisper) Watch us, see me love you.

TERRY: (I push and feel the initial resistance and then the smooth admittance as your still pulsing walls cloak me and bear down. It is the opposite of birth- you labour to take me in- but there is still that element of pain that a man will never know. I am breaking you and bruising your tender skin- my urge to batter even harder is difficult to restrain. I establish a rhythm- in-out-in-out, soothing and smooth; you adjust and move to it, squeezing me with your powerful muscles as I thrust, loosening and letting me pull clear. Memories float through my brain, some unwanted, snapshots of the last months, times I remembered you and ached for your body. The words of the music still playing unheard in the distance register on my mind)

You walked into the room on the arm of my best friend
I knew whatever happened my friendship would end.....
The minute I saw her face, the second I caught her eye
The minute I touched the flame, I knew it would never die.

UMA: (I feel you build me again, the thick head of your cock bruising my cervix, the grinding of your hips reaching that spot over and over again. I grasp your shoulders, my fingers push against you, pull you down, scratch, flail until the exploding shock shatters through me, a different sense, slower and deeper but as wild and cathartic as my previous coming. You sense it and slow, allow me my passion, whisper to me, encourage me, talk me through until I find my way back to you...)

TERRY: Let yourself go, baby, come for me...Jesus, you're are so beautiful when you come...down hard on me, squeeze me...Christ, I can feel you come on my cock...so beautiful...stay with me, baby, stay here...my sweet little girl...my sweet baby...

If there's just one guy, just one guy, who would lay down his life for you and die
It's hard to say it, I have to say it, but it's probably me...

UMA: (I hear you speak from deep inside myself. You call me your 'little girl'.You always call me that when we make love and I have longed to hear it again. No one else has ever mentioned you say that, although I have searched the diaries for it. I believe you say it for me alone. My sweet little girl. It is a childish conceit to want so much for you to call me this. Me alone. To have something just for myself from you. It is what I have never had with any other Brother. To be his alone. Your sweet little girl..your sweet little baby...

I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart

TERRY: (I don't want to wait anymore. I want to close the gap. I want to pour myself into you. As you lie in my arms, stroke back my hair, smile a lazy, satisfied smile, I rise and begin again; slow first and then as you respond, faster, deeper, harder- thrusting until my vision blurs and my body becomes my cock with one driving message- in, in, in, in.)

UMA: (You are ready, I am ready...I don't want you to hold back anymore. I see your eyes glaze, sweat drops from you onto me; time slows to its own metronome, fucking becomes the beat of our hearts. I watch as your head falls back and your neck is straining, your mouth opens and utters vague whispered groans and obscenities. You drill into me, hold down my writhing hips, refuse to allow me to move from where you want me to be. I know you will come. I know I will come. Just your body and your beauty are enough to arouse me by now.)

TERRY: Arrrrrhhhh......arrhhhhh......urrrrrrrrr......Christ....I'm coming....unfffffff

UMA: Oh...oh....oh...oh...God, Terry....ahhhhhhh.....

You don't need to read no books on history
I'm a simple man, it's no big mystery
In the cold weather, a hand needs a glove
At times like this, a lonely man needs love....

TERRY: (We lie wrapped in each other. The room is suddenly silent, the music stilled. Your breath is soft against my ear, drowned out by the panting I still cannot control. I hold myself still, unwilling to leave the soft enshrouding warm wet berth of your body but the inevitable is happening- your body's pulse slides me out on the river of our love. But the crevice of your sex is a sweet alternative and I lie there, my head on the pillow and my cock guarding your tenderness.

UMA: (I hold you in my arms and brush my fingers through your sweat drenched hair. I cannot help it - but the tears come again, running down my face as your semen runs downs my legs. I never thought to have you here again. I will never let you go again.)

TERRY: You're crying. Are you all right, love, did I hurt you?( I am suddenly afraid, unable to remember the last few moments - what did I do?)

UMA: I'm fine, you didn't hurt me. I cry when I'm happy, too. I can't help it. It's the orgasm. It is release. (Your hand reaches for a box of tissues by the bed- you dry my face and then pull away to wipe my legs and clean me up. It is indescribably tender and nurturing, so typical of you, like tending to a child.) Come.. Lie by me...it doesn't matter. I want to hold you...

TERRY: (I lie back on the pillow and you scramble to curl up next to me. We lie quiet for a moment but I know it will not last. Your brain is already working, I can almost hear the wheels turning. You make love to me in virtual silence and then you explode in a need to talk. My brain slows to a crawl and I bask there while you shower me in your streams of consciousness.)

UMA: Terry? Terry? Don't fall asleep!

TERRY: I'm not. I'm listening.

UMA: Terry...is it all right now? I mean, we know where we go from here? No more fighting. No more struggling? We work together from now on, and make it right, OK?

TERRY: Yeah, great leader of the armies of the north! (You look at me surprised; you didn't think I knew what you were talking about, did you?] Just pass me the fags, will ya?[ You lean over to retrieve them. I run my thumb over the tattoo on your butt. It feels like an important symbol now.) While you're there, love, can you pass me my jacket? ( I have something that will quiet down your instinctive hyper mood.

UMA: Jacket?

TERRY: Just get it, Uma!( You throw me the cigarettes and matches, jump off the bed, grab my jacket and jump back on. As you light a cigarette, I pull a box from the inside pocket.) Hey, catch this!

UMA: (You throw a box; I catch it, the cigarette caught in my lips, hanging there with surprise as I open the gift. You ease the cigarette from my lips and drag on it yourself.)

TERRY: Open it! (I watch as you open it and stare. You look like a little girl on Christmas morning, eyes wide and open mouthed. You can never mask your emotions, every thought is always written clearly on your face) Well? Try it on. It's a symbol, Uma. Tonight is about symbols. The dress. The place. The love we've made. We have to have symbols. You were right about that. There has to be some difference or it makes no sense.

UMA: (I wear your gift) It fits? How did you know? Did you get this in Barcelona today? You are a fast shopper, mate! (My flippant comment is belied by the pool of tears that gather again on my lids. It is a beautiful gesture, romantic, and so typical of you.)

TERRY: (I smile and drag on the cigarette, exhaling slowly, allowing the stream of smoke to calm me.) I bought it in New York, weeks ago. I saw it and knew you would like it. I've carried it around with me all this time, like a millstone. It seemed to get heavier and heavier the further we went away from each other.

UMA: You had this at Easter? In your pocket? ( I stare at you and you shrug, raised up on one arm, smoking.)

TERRY: There was never a right time. And I saw the danger of it. I thought you would read too much into it. I had to save you from that mistake.

UMA: The mistake you wanted to make yourself? (You hunch your shoulders and stub out the cigarette on the ashtray on the bedside table) So you contented yourself in being the big soldier boy and toughing it out! Christ, Terry, I might be mental but you are worse- a suitable case for treatment if ever I saw one! (I hug you and you encircle me with your brawny arms.)

TERRY: No pretence now. We keep our promises. We enjoy our freedom. It won't be easy- you will drive me mad. There'll be plenty of fights, Uma. But don't let me walk away again...one of us has got to rein the other in. There has to be a limit to how far we push each other. You know that, don't you?

UMA: [I nod] We still have lots of things to resolve.

TERRY: Yeah, I know. [I think for a moment] Tink- you like games, don't ya? [You nod again, giggling now.] Here's a game. I learnt it in negotiation. Ya see, the main point is to let your enemy think they are winning when they are not. You have to appear to agree with them but turn them to where you want them to be. It's a very fine line.

UMA: Sounds too hard for me!

TERRY: Try this. OK. Dangerous topic.[ I light another cigarette, you pour more champagne] Where should we live, darling? Over to you.

UMA: Are we talking on one of those short wave radios?

TERRY: [I sigh. You always do that.] Yeah love, anything you like [I wave my cigarette idly for you to get on  with it]

UMA: Okey, dokey...anywhere you like , darling, would be wonderful, as long as you're there. [I smile sweetly]

TERRY: Good answer. Hmmm...OK, I suggest San Francisco. Great climate, near the others, I have an office there already...you can even make visits to your boyfriends at the Temple...

UMA: What a wonderful idea! I would never have thought things out so clearly as that. Obviously I need a man to guide in me these things, sweetie.

TERRY: Very good. Play to his arrogance. Let him think he's boss. You are desperate and he has you on the ropes. He won't be looking for trouble....OK...so we have a deal on the table. San Francisco....nice house in the hills... was that a frown, Uma, love?

UMA: You can't see that on short wave radios. ..No...I had an itchy nose. No frown. But something did occur to me. I hate to raise a problem -  as you know, I am so looking forward to living in California...but...they don't have the BBC, Terry!

TERRY: The BBC! How could I have forgotten that? And there is of course no other news programme we could watch there, is there?

UMA: The gathering of accurate unbiased news is very essential in your business, Terry. The BBC is very important, I'm afraid.

TERRY: You could be right. Can I make a drastic suggestion? This may be hard for you. I don't want to upset your plans but...would you agree to living in London, by any chance? They have the BBC there. Was that a smile- a cheesy ear-to-ear grin, by any chance?

UMA: No, it's just raining in the mountains. I think I can swing for London.

TERRY: Good. OK... we move to London. I've already seen a great apartment, made an offer the other week....nothing settled yet...

UMA: An apartment? Let me guess. Docklands. Converted godown. Plenty of bare brick, steel, glass, hardly any furniture, main colours: black and white with a touch of red and grey for brightness...am I close?

TERRY: Funny you should say that but...

UMA: No fucking way!

TERRY: May I remind you that you are supposed to be using psychology on me, not hostile tactics. You'll get nowhere by confrontation.

UMA: So type 'profanity' and call me Marco. I'll call you Tio.

TERRY: Let's back off. Tell me what's your bottom line, Marco. The lowest that you can take back to your people to make a deal?

UMA: Hmmm... St. John's Wood. Three storey Victorian plus creepy attic. Quarter of an acre of grounds. Rip it out from top to bottom. Style: simple, minimalist, zen...sort of Jim Thompson Thai meets Georgian harmony. Plenty of Asian antiques, wood, soft lighting...oh, and a bloody enormous country kitchen- oak, I think.

TERRY: A kitchen? What the fuck do you need a kitchen for?

UMA: So that you can swipe the table with your hand and throw me down on it to give me a good seeing to when you come home from work. I shall wear only a pinnie. And I shall buy a cook book.

TERRY: OK, the sex on the table works for me. But do I have to eat the food?

UMA: Part of the deal , mate- no possible wavering on that.

TERRY: I suppose I could stand to lose a few pounds... OK... it looks like we can go with that. If I take a Japanese style master bedroom off the books for myself...are we good to go?

UMA: Japanese? Low bed? Screens? Will you paint with a brush on my naked body like in that Ewan McGregor film?

TERRY: Anything you ask, darling.

UMA: Deal, mate...hey, I think I like this game. So I let you think it was your idea but it was really mine?

TERRY: More or less. It is the tactic called 'let the kidnapper think he is the boss but make sure you win.'

UMA: Why didn't we play this before?

TERRY: Mainly because I started with ' let the negotiator actually be the boss' gambit - not a wise move with a woman like you...(I chuckle and bite my lip, watching you through lowered eyes. You smirk but I see the undertone of recognition. Somehow the pieces on the table are rearranging. You are not at war with me anymore; a new kind of trust is rising from the ashes of the bonfire we made of our lives.)

UMA: What do you want to do now?

TERRY: (I snort with repressed laughter. You cannot stay still for five minutes in this mood of agitation.) Well, you'll have to wait for number three. I surprised myself as it was just then with the second. What do you want to do, princess?

UMA: Go to the ball, of course! That's what princesses do for a living. Well, dinner and dance would be nice at least...don't you reckon? I'm starving.

TERRY: Me too. OK. Shower. Dress. You are allowed fifteen minutes tops, Tink, you got that? The reservation for dinner is on the balcony downstairs...and dancing, yeah, I go for dancing.

UMA: Dancing? You sure about that? You know what dancing leads to...."

TERRY: Number Three if you play your cards right, babes. After I've been fed, that is...I need some red meat...

UMA: I'll bet the real Prince Charming didn't talk like that. 'Give me some prime rib and I'll fuck you again. Or can you imagine Romeo saying to Juliet... "Where's my dinner, Juli baby?" (I giggle as we wriggle off the bed and stroll over to the bathroom.

TERRY: That is not exactly how I put it either... [I open the shower door and flick on the lever]

UMA: It's what you meant though...I could tell... [I pull a few towels from the rack above]

TERRY: Stop being such an annoying little smart arse! Princesses should be seen and not heard.

UMA: You've obviously never read the Princess and the Pea... (You assume a pose at the loo and I raise my eyes and tut)

TERRY: The Princess and the Pee? [I demonstrate by urinating into the toilet bowl as you tut and flick my back with the end of the towel]

UMA: NO! The pea...Jesus...can't you even get fairy tales right, you moron? ( You shiver contentedly and shake as you finish and flush)

TERRY: Is that the one where the princess likes to hold the prince's dick while he has a piss?( I grin and wrap your hand around my cock)

UMA: You filthy pervert, you... ( I laugh and pull away to step back into the shower and flick you with warm water.)

TERRY: You wrote the fucking diary, mate- it was your dream... (I join you and we hold each other beneath the powerful jet of water. I feel it wash us both clean together, the past trickling away to be left only with the magic of the present and the hope of the future, still unwritten. We smile, tease, tickle, play games with soap and shampoo- it takes us more than fifteen minutes.)

UMA: Look, I'm bloody starving! Come on, that's enough! It's a good job my hair is so short or we'd never get down...(We step out and wrap each other in towels, while I rub at my hair and apply some gel.)

TERRY: Yeah...your hair...you're gonna grow it back now, aren't ya? I mean now that you've made your point... (I begin to brush my teeth as you flash me a look)

UMA: (I pause, the toothbrush in my hand, look at your expression and I see the curl of a half smile on your lips.) For you, my darling, anything. I shall grow it long and dye it any colour you like. On one condition...

TERRY: (I can see it coming. I asked for it) Which is, sweetheart? [I spit and gargle, feigning nonchalance]

UMA: That you should grow yours long and dye it blond. Just like Jack's....I mean- we know it would suit you...(I giggle at the look of disgust on your face)

TERRY: Fuck off!

UMA: Tut, tut, Marco- profanity...not the way to talk to a female negotiator...

TERRY: (I pick you up and throw you over my shoulder running with you into the room. We both laugh helplessly as I toss you onto the bed.)  It's a bloody good job I'm hungry. I have a strong urge to put you over my knee...except you'd like that too much...scarves...cuffs...paddles...how can a bloke discipline a girl like you? [You wriggle away and proceed to dress, just panties, gown and a mere lick of makeup]

UMA: Thought you were the bloody expert in torture. [ You pull on your pants- commando- and put your shirt back on, sitting down to slip on your socks and shoes] Surely you have something interesting up your sleeve? Or down your pants more like. Right, that's me. Dinner and dancing followed by lots of dirty sex. Who said I wasn't a romantic? Let's go, Prince Charming...it's like a fucking fairy tale this, innit, mate? [ You shrug on your jacket and flex your neck as you straighten your tie in the mirror, turning, arms out, with that ' how do I look' expression. You know how you look. Just wonderful.]

TERRY: (You are ready. You look amazing. Your eyes are shining, your face is aglow with the aftermath of passion. I have to kiss you one more time. But then I really have to eat...) Come on, princess, let's go have a ball....