On my desk, I have a small statue that was given to me when I was such a young child that I have no independent memory of the bestowing of this gift. It was given to me by my godfather; and my mother has always told me that from it flows my twin feelings about Mardi Gras: untamed joy and mysterious suspicion.

This three-inch porcelain objet d'art is intricate in its design. A jester done in rich harlequin-patterns; in one hand he shows a ruby and in the other, he hides an emerald. But it is his face that drives my dreams. Your casual glance only shows a wide smile. But as a child, I used to examine his face for minute details and I have long since discovered the truth behind that smile: his is a face of enigmatic menace. He used to lie in wait for me in the darkness that pressed in upon nighttime parades; he was the unknown quantity not illuminated by the flambeaux carriers who marched with the floats in years past.

He still comes to me in my dreams. Wow, that felt so liberating to say out loud. There is something so freeing about this season, Diary. And being free isn't always the road to peace, is it?

Surely you remember me mentioning to you, Diary, that I not only have vivid dreams but I am a sound sleeper. Are you like me in that often upon waking, you have to think on your dreams really hard so you don't mistake them for memories because they have that much impact on you? My dreams can have such concrete, realistic details and the emotions are so clear that I can sometimes have difficulty knowing if I'm awake or not when I'm in the midst of a particularly strong one.

It happens like this: I dreamed Terry came to be with me in the middle of a dream about the jester who so often visited my nights during Carnival season. I knew it was a dream because it was days yet before Terry would truly be with me. But I was pleased this night for if he was with me in the dream, I was safe from the jester. I was safest, I knew, when Terry was with me for I had always believed he would never really fail me when it came to fears I could not name.

"You're here," I mumbled in a whisper to him as my eyes sought his from where I was nestled into my pillow. I reached across to the empty pillow next to me and in my dream, his face was roughened scruff and so sexy. "Now I can sleep. Don't let anyone hurt me."

"Never, love," he whispered back. "But don't sleep. Wake up for me."

God, but I loved imagining his voice. Especially like this, all hoarse and sincere and manly.

"Mmmm. Hmmm. Stay with me a little longer, amant. I'm all alone."

My dry lips felt his warmth and I knew that when he was finally really with me, I would tell him of this dream and he would make fun of me but I didn't care. I thought it meant something that I could dream him into a night when I needed him.

"C'mon, Annie. Wake up for me."

"Nnnn. Uhn." Mumbling nothingness. Dreaming his hands on my bare skin. "Wait for me."

"What am I waiting for?"

"Please. Don't leave me behind." Like that, I could feel the jester and knew he was lurking there and I was having trouble keeping up with the person who'd come to protect me in my dream. If I were alone, I would have to face this devilish remnant of childhood darkness. I'd never yet, in all my life, in my dreams or my realities, had the ability to face what the jester was to me.

"Shh. It's okay, baby. You're safe with me. I'm not leaving you. I'm here."

His voice dreamed into my haze and it calmed me. I would never tell him this part of my dream. This part he would never let me share without telling him its root cause.

"Never tell Terry," I reminded myself. "I promise I won't."

"No fair, Annie. You have to tell me now."

"Not Terry. Never tell. He'll be so ..." Dreaming his mouth into just the right place I wanted it. Right there. Oh yeah. "Feels good. Like that, I do."

Dreamed a chuckle from him and it made me smile that I got it so perfect. If he'd really been there, he would have laughed at me just like that, I knew. "What you like, love? Tell me all about it, Annie girl."

Wiggling against where I would have liked to have really been feeling his thigh between mine. "Like that, too. Like the 'Annie girl.' Makes me ... feel ..."

"Makes you feel what?" His nose nuzzled into my neck. "Don't go back to sleep yet."

"Secret name for me. You say it so good."

"Annie girl." Ah, yes, making him say it with that little rough growl of his that always turned so easily into his sex voice. The voice that could make me come with so little trouble. "Tell me why you're afraid to be left behind."

I sighed at how perfect his voice was coming through in this dream of a dream. "Nuh uh. Just stay with me."

Imagining his hands in my hair, pulling it from my eyes and his fingers felt thick as I made them stroke along my jaw, a whisper of a touch, the perfect Terry touch that made me feel like he cared about me.

"Touch me. Make me feel good," I mumbled into the neck I wished my mouth was pressed up against just then.

My body arched into the hold I wanted him to have on me and I let my mind have him bury his face in my breasts.

"You can tell me, love." A warm breath across my face. "What's been scaring you so lately? C'mon and tell me. Promise I'll make it better."

Mumbling something of nonsense and imagining Terry with me; his hands I directed to caress me, his mouth I made taste me. In my dream, I made him work his way down my body while I simply enjoyed the attention. I made him kiss me there along the sensitive skin high up on my thighs and I made sure his tongue licked into my slit at the perfect pace and pressure. In this dream, I made him be so good to me and it wasn't really that much of a stretch of the imagination because Terry had always known how to be good to me.

"You still dreaming, love?"

"Dreaming. So good. Big dreams."

"Wake up, Annie. C'mon. I don't wanna be fucking you like this. Want you awake to tell me how good we are together."

A surprise. That was not what I'd dreamed him saying. I hadn't dreamed him to be shoving my legs apart just then, either. I hated when this happened. When a dream took on a life of its own and was so rude as to have been better than what I'd thought I would dream next. I moaned into the night at the way it felt to imagine his fingers invading me below. And sometime in this moment, my eyes cracked open to examine the darkness of the room in which I was dreaming the night away.

His eyes were watching me. So real. As if ...

"You awake, Annie? Or still mostly asleep?" My fingers reached up for his face and I wondered at this.

"Terry?"

A quick grin and he wiggled his body against mine. "In the flesh."

Only now really awake; my arms flew around his neck and I hugged him in so tight to me. Getting those twin feelings I always got when first seeing him: nervous just to be with him and disbelief at how much I adored being anywhere near him. "Oh, God, Terry! I thought I was dreaming. I'm so glad to see you."

Chuckling in my grip. Tickling me lightly until I gave his neck some breathing space. "That's my girl, Annie. You know just what to say," he whispered to me just before he bent to my lips and possessed them.

It hadn't all been a dream, then. And like always, I wondered which part I'd been dreaming and which part had been real.

"What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you this soon." My hands were on his face and his hands were on my ass as he settled in over me. I pulled him into another deep, dark kiss even as he nudged his ever-eager hardness along my slickness. "God. I've missed you."

"Missed you, too, love." Panting it out to me even as he edged into me and I pushed down over him. "Damn, but you feel good. Oh, yeah. Just like that. That's just what I needed from you."

For some reason, it hit me then. This feeling. As yet undefined. But this was when it first really started. Just an odd sense that something was passing me by and I might not have been even aware that I had never mattered.

But he confused me because he seemed so sincere. As always. You know, don't you, Diary? It's the one thing I think I've always been most open about. He's ever my obsession, ever the one man capable of making me not care about anything other than the fact that when he's with me, I'm with him.

But it made me cry in that night. Because I was already feeling it. Not able to define it, but I could feel it.

He thought I was crying because we were us, together, ever linked by a sense of what had to be right. I still never knew whatever I really believed about us.

Later, so much later, and we had totally disrupted my bed. Pillows on the floor, sheets never to be found without turning on the lights, blankets crumpled at the foot of the bed. And I was fast about to fall back into slumber induced by whatever it is that comes over you when good sex leaves you floating.

"You don't want to sleep, love. You'll miss the encore," he whispered into my shoulder.

It made me shudder against him. "Terry, you do remember we're on different time zones? Oh. God. That's just not playing fair ... Oh. Terry."

"That's my Annie. Always so eager to please me."

Christ. I mean, really. And he had me coming again and it just never seemed real to me until I could see him in the morning light and know he was there. And that it hadn't just been about the best wet dream I might have ever had.

But he was so right about me, eh, Diary? Always eager to please even if I wasn't exactly what was expected by the men.

I lay in his field after; sated, content, safe. Always looking for ulterior motives lately. Didn't take long to find his.

"So, Annie, you've had a few adventures since I felt you last. What don't I know that I should know?"

"I told as much about the portal as I'll tell."

"It's not really the portal that I'm asking about, love. Think you know that."

"Sure. I think we both know I knew that."

Got his legendary frozen look. What was it Uma called this face? The "Queen Victoria - we are not amused" look? He gave me a teeth-grinding bit to go along with it. I knew what to do to get him off this jag. Went totally soft against him and snuggled in to his big body. Grazed my knuckles across his nipples, licked up his throat real slow while my hand slipped down to grasp his handle. Stroked until he showed some interest in just moving with me.

"Just forget the rest. Don't think it matters that much to you anyway." Mumbling against his neck and in that moment, I resented the fact I'd faced it alone.

"The fucking padre may not have cared enough to tell you, but I do. Annie, the fact that you handled it isn't the point. You should have called me. And don't look at me like that. Of course I know. Didn't really think Uma could keep her mouth shut? Or maybe that's why you told her."

"I took care of it just fine, Terry. I'm not helpless. Not like ... Never mind. Besides, you had your hands full with other things." And you were part of the problem anyway. Climbing out from under him and leaving a seriously pissed off Terry behind. He hated losing control of conversations with me.

Standing in my kitchen and watching out the back window. Drinking cold bottled water and absorbing the peace of a blue dawn. What was it they said about dawns and skies? Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. What about blue skies? You'd think sailors would have a saying about that, wouldn't you, Diary? I'd have to ask Jack.

"You're the only one who never calls me."

"I hate to be a bother. Don't want to be one of those kind of women."

"Christ. Tell me you didn't just say that."

Turning to look at him. Standing before me buck naked and soft. "I'm sap enough for you, Terry. You don't really need me to prove it in between visits, do you?"

"Point is, I like hearing your voice. I want to feel like you need me, love. Maybe even that you think about me, miss me. Y'know, you could call me just to chat, others do. It doesn't have to be for any real reason."

Smiling ruefully at him. Stroking his stubbled jaw as I left him. "As my dad used to say, phone lines work both ways."

Wandering into my bedroom and looking inside the bureau for something to toss on so I could go outside and pick up my newspaper from the end of the drive. I pulled out one of Jack's t-shirts and buried my nose in it. Smelled of fabric softener and I was disappointed. I liked his scent.

"Something's different about you." My eyes blinked into his as I drew the shirt down over my face. "The portal, isn't it?"

"Did you enjoy your trip through the portal? You and Max went together, right? You bond with the General?" Trying to distract him from this line of questioning.

His arm around my waist drew me back to bed with him. I let him cuddle into me and we breathed together. "Tell me something about the portal that no one else knows," he whispered into my ear, his voice soft and pleading.

I swallowed deep and closed my eyes. "You first."

"Don't ... don't play this game with me. I need to know. You went back with someone you love. I didn't. I just ... I just need to understand." God, why did he do this to me? Did he know how I just could never help but pretend I could understand his soul when he was like this with me?

My mouth at his ear. "Why didn't you ask Uma? She wouldn't have held back. We both know how she can't keep a secret."

"She would never tell me what I needed to hear about this. You will. You always have. Help me, Annie."

On my elbows then and what was happening, Diary? You should have seen his face. God, but he gets to me when he looks like that. The way you just know he's just then realized he's lost again, that he's not yet decided where he'll catalogue this pain away to; and his sense of honor won't let him not feel the sense of loss because there's a part of Terry that believes he deserves it.

Fingers light on his brow. Kissing him there and hugging him in to me, trying to give him shelter. "Okay, I'll tell you. If you go back through your own portal, you step back into yourself. Do you understand what I mean? It's not like you're going back and your other self is also there. You become you back then again."

"And?"

"And ... it's hard to explain, Terry. But have you thought about your own portal? Would you want to go back and enter that life again? If you went by yourself, you could just slip into whatever part of that life you wanted. But if you take one of us from this world with you ... well, Jack and I are convinced it's why things can get fucked up. I mean, you go through with someone and ..." I looked at him and wondered if this was what he needed to know.

His eyes watched me and I know he saw my hesitation. My voice lost its misty quality and took on the "official briefing" tone that seemed easier to talk in just then.

"Every one of the couples who have gone back have described similar things, Terry. Heightened awareness of each other. Especially all the symbols of sexual attraction. But there's the other part of that. It's the intensified sensitivity to the conflicting worlds. You bring one of us back with you and we don't belong there but we do belong with you ... yet you're not just you as we know you here anymore. Can't you see how you'd be torn into two people? The one you were and the one you are. Bound to the people you knew then and bound to all of us here. Even you might find that hard to deal with. It would confuse you just as much as it did the others."

His hand played with my hair. I loved it when he did that. I could feel the strands tingle all the way to my scalp, like he was sending electrical impulses from his fingers and they'd shoot straight up into me.

"I've thought about going through my portal. Just to see what it would be like."

"You could see Dino. Just don't see Alice and I won't have to kill you when you get back."

We giggled against each other. "Damn but you women hate her. You never let me forget."

Whispering to him, "If you go back, have a drink with Dino and make a toast to me. It'll make me feel part of it all and I'll get this vicarious thrill at the idea of you two back together and happy in your macho madness. Okay?"

"You could come with me, Annie. We could all get drunk together. You'd like him."

He didn't really want me with him. This was some kind of dodge. "Not coming with you, Terry, my love. The trip with Jack is still too fresh. You should take Uma if you take anyone. Though I'd worry about you if you went back together. I'm afraid of how you'd handle it."

"Me? It's her you should worry about. Christ, when she went with Max at least he controlled her. With me, she'd be completely mental. Probably take on every man there." Giving me an exaggerated groan but I knew he was just hiding his real concern.

"Let her have a go at Peter. He deserves some fun. Oh. And Dino! Oh my God. That would be great," I teased him and erupted into laughter at the look on his face.

He gave me his glare and I knew he hated that. "Fuck that. I'd never let her get within a mile of him. Can you imagine those two together?"

"What I can imagine is how you'd feel about them together. Maybe you're scared ..." I shivered suddenly as I felt myself grow serious. "Terry, don't go back with her just yet. Promise me? I just have this funny feeling about what might happen. I mean, I just think that you still don't fully believe just how much she loves you and that might cause real problems for you through the portal."

"Worried about me, love? I like it when you do that," he told me and as a reward, his big hands began to roam to all the places he knew I loved to be touched. I moaned to him. "So, tell me the truth, Annie. Is the sex here boring after what it was like through the portal?"

"Mmm. Sex with you, amant, is never boring."

"Think how great it would be with me there."

"Ah. So now we get to the real deal. You want to go through the portal with one of us just for the sex, don't you? Admit it." Tickling him but he trapped my hands and rolled on top of me.

"How was it, Annie girl? As good as you all said?" His mouth was making me groan as he took on my neck and found all those spots. When he got rougher and bit into me, a surprised squeak burst from me and I would have stopped him, but it still felt so good to have him in such control. "Is that what's different about you? The Ripper show you that good of a time? The rest of us can't measure up anymore?"

"Don't, Terry. Stop." Our eyes met and I cupped his jaw in my hand. "Don't call him that. Okay?"

"Just a nickname, love."

"No, it's not. Not really. You like to make fun of Jack and I won't have you do that in front of me anymore. Keep it up and I'll add Jack to your list of insecurities."

Got his soft chin tuck and those eyes at me. Closest I'd get to an agreement.

Best strategy - change the subject so completely he wouldn't see it coming and would have to drop what we'd just been on. Good tactic, Diary, even with someone like Terry. "There's a great parade on tonight. Druid's. I have some friends riding. Wanna come with me?"

He groaned and flopped over on his back. "Fuck. All right. I didn't come here for this shit anyway. I came to party and get drunk ..."

"And get fucked. Yeah, I get the picture." I said it softly and even so I was surprised I'd said it in such a way that it sounded pretty bitter. When he glanced at me though, I had a smile on my face.

"C'mon take me to the Mardi Gras. Where the people sing and play ..." I sang it loud and bold; laughed so hard at his pained expression. If he thought Uma was a bad singer, he'd just found out how much worse it could be. "Take your burdens to the Mardi Gras. Let the music wash your soul ..."

"Stop. Enough. Christ but I have got to find a way to keep you and Uma apart. Why didn't I know she'd tell you how she's been annoying the fuck out of me by singing that almost constantly?"

But that night, it was Terry doing the annoying singing bit. As we were getting dressed, I'd played him this wonderful CD of Mardi Gras music and if I never hear him murder "Iko Iko" again it'll be too soon. Course it didn't help that he'd been drinking for a few hours by then.

And really, Diary, his behavior that night was actually quite cute and it charmed the pants off me. Okay, okay, I know that's maybe not saying anything since it doesn't seem to take him much effort to get the pants off me. But still ... We both got buzzed, we caught a few beads and he flirted non-stop with me. I felt like I was the center of the universe and it was all because of the intensity of his focus on me.

And by the time the really big parade nights came beginning that Thursday, I was convinced I'd designed myself the perfect Carnival season finale. Terry would be partying wild with me during the most decadent parades that ran through Sunday night and then Jack was coming back in for the final two days for my favorite ball, which was on Lundi Gras, and the traditional final parades on Mardi Gras itself.

By Friday night, Terry wanted to take a break from parades and I let him talk me into taking a tour of the strip joints in the Quarter. What an eye-opener! Oops. Not that way. Well, maybe that way. It was like seeing the seamy underbelly of a sophisticated man's craving for sex.

Don't get me wrong, Diary; I've been in strip joints. It's just that I'd never been into ones like some of these. Where the women looked so tired and so bored; where you had to wonder if these men wouldn't see better hanging boobs if they were home with the wife or even looking in the mirror. Where I was afraid to sit on any of the chairs so Terry would drag over a bar stool and make a show of wiping it down for me. Where I would never have believed it possible any man would take a woman whose respect he wanted to keep.

But then, that's the Mardi Gras effect, I tell you. You just feel totally free to do these things. To be naughty in a way that feels satisfying.

And, other than worrying about germs and such, I actually had a blast. I know, I know, but I did. Then again, I was drinking. Drinking makes a lot of things feel different.

Let me share just one thing that happened, Diary, because I think you'll find it funny. Terry did a lap dance for me. On me. To me. Hmm. Wonder what the proper term is for that? It was the sexiest thing believable and made me understand men's attraction to this device.

We had been watching men get lap dances in one strip joint after another. I leaned into Terry's ear and asked him if he liked lap dances. Got his smirk in reply. Why do men like them so, I asked him, trying to act truly puzzled. You'd have to experience it to see the way it can feel, he replied. Like that would ever happen, I said, since all lap dancers are female. He dragged me into one of the lap dance areas and proceeded to show me that the best lap dancer might be a man.

I wanted him so bad. Wanted to touch him but he smacked my hands away every time they dusted his body. His sweaty body. His moving, heaving, teasing, tantalizing, pure-sex-in-blue-jeans body. His bulging-package-in-my-face body.

Dragged him home when we stumbled from the joint. Made out a bit indecently on the taxi ride home until we passed my old church and some patron saint inside slapped me hard for what my mouth was doing with him. The cab driver had almost certainly seen it all. He never even coughed. Terry gave him a big tip and then I think we might have been stripping each other before we even got my front door open.

Mardi Gras sex. Uninhibited, spontaneous and delightfully decadent. Does it get any better? Rhetorical question, sweet Diary, okay? Don't want you out there testing the waters or anything.

But in that night, the feeling I'd been having was still lingering there. It woke me and I stared into darkness and wondered what it was that I was feeling. But I couldn't really grasp it and it frustrated me. Finally, I left the bed and sat on my back deck and breathed in the night's dank fog. When I went back to bed, I found Terry sitting up against the bed board and sucking on a cigarette. The tip glowed red and the fuzzy sight gave me such a start.

He watched me approach and when I climbed in over his body, he let me straddle his lap and nestle in against his bare chest. You feel good, I told him. He didn't say a word, just stroked my back. Leaving me with the realization that the game between us was not as it had been. Reminding me of this sober reality.

On Saturday morning, I looked in the mirror and saw past the bleary eyes that had seen too much over the last few days. Instead, I saw someone who would never be sorry to have some legitimate excesses to confess on Ash Wednesday.

Saturday night was his first super parade. The super krewes have parades that overwhelm you. Massive elaborate floats, at least a thousand riders and they throw beads and trinkets like it's raining. You see those floats coming down the street toward where you're camped out in 10-deep crowds and it's like they're floating in this dust cloud and it's only when they're closer that you realize the cloud is the avalanche of throws.

We were approaching the parade route when I oh-so-casually mentioned a posting I'd made that afternoon. As I mentioned something to him about his new friends in the 800 block of Bourbon, I giggled. He caught on to the possibilities instantly. But then, he is Terry.

"You told them?" His voice sounded not just shocked, but worried. "Tell me you did not post about that."

"Eh, they all thought it was funny."

"I knew they were men. Annie, you knew I knew. No woman looks that good."

"What?" I punched his shoulder. "Screw you, Thorne. I'm not the one who flashed. I warned you not to, didn't I? But, no, the great Terry Thorne hauls it out and shows it off right in the middle of the biggest gathering of gays he's ever seen."

"You're the one who got me drunk so piss off."

"I did not get you drunk. And I'm also not the one who danced around with my dick hanging out just to get showered with beads. I certainly was not the one blowing kisses to the guys hanging off the balcony and hooting at me."

"Yeah, well ..." he laughed at the memory because it actually had been pretty funny. "Did get some great beads, though, didn't I? Better than any you've caught."

"Sure, but who's got those beads now?" We grinned at each other at that because the negotiating for those particular beads had taken a lot of time and a lot of maneuvering. A win-win situation, as Terry said.

We were meeting some of my more exuberant friends for this parade. One of them lived just over three blocks off the Uptown portion of the parade route. Terry and I had both nursed a slight hangover most of the day and had sworn we wouldn't overdo it that night. Not again, we promised each other, we'll pace ourselves. Right. Diary, stop giving me that look.

C'mon, you woulda been the same way. Picture how easy it was for the high spirits of my friends to rock us right back into the hearty-party mode. In no time, we were getting pleasantly blitzed, dancing in the streets, negotiating bead exchanges, flirting mercilessly with good-looking men ... wait, oops! That last part was just me. Sorry, Terry. You're right - you were the one flirting mercilessly with babelicious women.

By the time the first float was passing us, the besotted night was a blaze of jumbled colors to me. The roar of the crowd around us made it hard to hear any particular voice unless someone was shouting in your ear. And with so many people crowding around and the madness of what's happening, it's so easy to lose track of those you're with for a while as the heavy press of the crowd can sweep you right up and move you along.

And before I knew it, I was mixed in with no one I recognized. It won't make any more sense to you, Diary, than it did to Terry, but I felt a familiar fear creep in because I was inebriated enough that I wasn't thinking clearly about how simple it should have been to get back to where I'd left everyone. And somehow, the next thing I knew I felt lost and scared. And my eyes swept up to find another float heading toward me and the crowd pushed forward and there I was ... eye to eye with a signature float in this parade.

The jester.

And something from my past invaded my present with such strength. I backed up and shoved my body between other bodies until I was up on the curb. Standing there, not understanding my reaction. I saw this float every year when I went to this parade and I'd never reacted like that before. Next thing I was aware of, a man next to me was placing a set of beads around my neck and talking over the din into my ear. I couldn't make out his words but I knew what came next.

When I tried to get away, I overreacted and he reacted. His hand gripped my wrist, I saw concern in his eyes but all I wanted was to get away from him.

When I was aware again, I was walking away from the parade route, heading for a cross street that would take me back to the street where my friend's house was. Less than a block from the parade's mayhem and lights, and blackness was like a blanket in comparison. The noise from the parade drowned out any sounds near me as I stumbled along broken pavement.

Now, I knew I was blitzed. But I wasn't falling down drunk, by any means. Was it fear or drink that kept making me stumble? It was the aspect of Mardi Gras that always hovered in the back of my mind, this edgy concern I'd seemed to carry within me for so long but never faced head on: what was lurking out there in the darkness away from the gaiety of the parade route? I was crying by the time I found my friend's house.

"Didn't your dad ever teach you better than to wander off by yourself at night in this city?"

A male voice in the night and I dropped to my knees. Male hands on me and I started praying. "Thank God, Terry. Damn, but I've just been ..."

"What's wrong? You okay? What happened?"

"No, I'm okay. I am. Just got separated from everyone and I ..." I looked up at him as he dragged me to my feet. Something was odd here. I started laughing because I was incredibly embarrassed. Acting like a damned fool girl and crying because I'd been on my own for all of maybe twenty minutes?

"Tell me what's wrong, Ann. Tell me now."

"Nothing's wrong. I've just had too much to drink and ... Damn, Terry. You know ... I just got spooked because it's so quiet and deserted here since everyone's at the parade."

"Tell me what scared you," I heard his voice say; it was soft enough that it was like it was carried to me on the wisp of the breeze.

"Nothing. And now you're with me," I replied, touching his chest and running my fingers up to his neck.

"Did you know you talk in your sleep sometimes?" An odd edge to his voice now and his hand smoothed down my hair, following it to the ends and then wrapping it around his fist. Gently nudging me to come closer to him.

"Been told that before," I muttered. "It's just nonsense. Never means anything."

"Tell me about the jester. Tell me what he does to you."

"Did to me," I corrected without thinking and suddenly heard what I'd said. "Just a boogeyman from childhood, Terry. Probably got scared by someone wearing a jester mask when I was a toddler or something."

"Don't lie to me." His mouth at my ear, his voice hard and rough. "Remember who you're talking to, Annie. Remember what I know."

"Don't make me, amant. Show me that you love me enough to just let this go," I whispered to him.

From straight out of nowhere, Max's assessment of what I was to Terry swept over me and it was then I identified the feeling I'd been having during this visit with my sweet obsession. Just these brief words Max said in passing to someone else in our group who mentioned it to me just the other day. What Max said about me had stung with its brutal authenticity of one man's ability to assess another man's intentions: "Another girl in a long string of Thorne's conquests."

All I'd ever been. I felt his face nuzzle against mine as he cooed some soothing words to me and then his mouth sucked in my skin where my jaw meets my neck. The touch was hot; I was cold and I shivered. I felt the full onslaught: Max didn't even know me; he didn't need to know me to concisely and accurately know that I'd never mattered more than that.

"I'll let it go. But I'm always here if you want to tell me. You know I love you," Terry growled.

"No, you don't, Terry." He stopped instantly, his hands no longer moving on me, his mouth caught in mid kiss of my neck. "Just for once since we've known each other, be honest with me. It won't make any difference in how I feel about you, I assure you. I'll still want you every bit as much. I mean, hell, what good's an obsession with someone like you if I can't enjoy it, right? But for God's sake, Terry, even Max can see it. And it was never worse than what I expected anyway."

"What ... are you going on about?" His face was before me now and I would never be able to read truths there in the darkness of the shadow we were in. "When did you talk to Max?"

When I told him what Max had said, his assessment of what I was, Terry muttered, "Right. I see."

He pushed me away from him and started walking down the narrow alleyway between the two tall old houses. So narrow that you could almost touch both houses when you stood in the middle of the paved walkway.

I followed along behind him, stumbling just a bit and only following because I didn't want to be alone out there in the dark anymore. He turned suddenly and said, "You been worrying over that one comment all this time? Y'know, I remember telling you I found your insecurities endearing, but I'm no longer amused. Max doesn't know shit about me and you. Fuck, how the hell am I supposed to even answer that, Ann? Why should I have to?"

"You don't. It's just ..." I turned and smiled into the night. Felt this curious hard, white-hot stab inside. Dammit all. "Doesn't matter anyway. Not really. Let's just go back to the parade."

But he didn't move and I didn't want to be out there facing my demon alone. I was still too unnerved by what had happened on the parade route. I stood wavering uncertainly and Terry was so deep into shadows that I wondered if I'd just imagined him into being with me. Like the dream. Like how he'd come into my dream and chased away a fear.

"Don't leave me behind," I told him. "No one else can help me with this."

"Come here." A solidity in his voice.

"You feel it, don't you, amant? Sometimes you just have to listen to me with your heart. I can't always ask for what I need from you, Terry. You can make me feel so helpless and I've been trying to fight it because I think it's wrong."

His body was suddenly there and I had nowhere to go but against its sturdy bulk. His arm around my waist and he turned me into the side of the house. Trapping me but I wanted the safety of where I was. "It's not wrong. Don't fight it."

My hands stroked his back and I felt those muscles moving as he bent to me. "Is that what I do for you, Terry? Are you trying so hard with me only because you think you haven't totally conquered me yet? You're so wrong about that."

"Annie, why do you need words for this? You should feel it, inside your soul, where I feel you. If you can't feel me there, no amount of words would make you sure." His mouth nuzzled me under my chin and I arched my neck at the divinity of touch there. "Let me show you something, love. I'm about to prove that our first instincts with each other were perfect."

He'd always had my measure, always the perfect touch, always the right approach.

"Here's your proof, Annie. No explanations tonight, okay? But you got a fear I can help you resolve. I can make the jester disappear from your dreams. And you don't have to do a thing. I'll do it all for you, baby." His arms gathered me against him even as he leaned me back gently into the side of the house. "Here's what we'll do. Close your eyes and concentrate on my voice. I've got hold of you. I want you to relax. Start with your toes and move up to your head. Let it all go and trust me to hold you up. Good girl. That's right."

His voice sounded like the warmest security blanket; it had a life all its own and it lived inside me in those moments. All my senses closed down except for the second sense that made his voice into my lifeline. Hypnotized by the effect, I would have fallen if not for him. And then he taught me a lesson of his soul's depth.

"Whatever it was that happened, it happened for a reason. And the reason brought us here. Tonight. Right here. Just us. The whole fucking world is going mad a few blocks away. But we're right here. Together. This is where we were supposed to be." He kissed me. It was the kiss of Terry that had first opened my soul to his probing. "You belong with us now. He's not allowed anymore. No room for him. Now, I want you to visualize him. And me, I'm there right with you. See him?"

I nodded against him. I wasn't afraid to be there. Terry was with me.

"Good. Now take my hand because you and I are walking away from him. Tell him goodbye."

"Bye bye," I whispered and slipped my hand in Terry's. 

"That's right." His mouth right at my ear, his voice so deep, so sure, so protective. "He's gone now. Turn and look; you won't see him anymore."

Gone. No longer needed. Replaced by other memories. A reality put to order. A childhood fear chased away in adult rationality. And in this new night, what I felt was happy to be a part of Terry's life. My reward for letting him have my soul. My refuge from the storm.

"Thank you, amant. For caring that much about me. For knowing me this well. No one else I know could have understood."

"You were ready, love. You were always stronger than him. You just needed a little help."

Do you know, Diary, that I have never believed memories work that way. That you can willingly banish one. But I had never figured on Terry ... the power and confidence of his suggestions opened me to him and he filled a darkness inside with a new color.

"Open your eyes now. It's over."

I reached up and stroked his cheek, my fingers sliding gently across his jaw's stubble. "You were just what I needed."

"And you're what I need," he told me. 

"You make me feel ..." I hesitated because his tongue tasting my neck made my head swim more than the excess of drinking we'd been doing the last few days. "I need to sober up. This is beginning to be ..."

"Don't get sober yet, love. I like you this way." He nestled in to me and I could feel him, feel his interest in me, his need for me and his need for me to need him.

I leaned my head into the wall behind me and groaned. "God. I don't usually drink this much, you know, but you've been such a bad influence on me and I wonder if I remember everything I've done over these last few days that I'll need to repent on Ash Wednesday."

His sex-soaked chuckle echoed into me because his chest was pressing me into the wall even while his hands had begun to roam. "Let's do at least one thing tonight you'll feel the need to repent. Let's go out with a bang tonight."

"Not here, Terry. We're out in the open, for God's sake." But his fingers were diligently undoing my jeans and his mouth was engrossed in my neck. "Oh, please, Terry. Have mercy on my soul."

"Not your soul I want just now, love." No resistance at all as he turned me around and my cheek rested against the house's white clapboard. My hands braced for some stability, my body already so far ahead of my mind. His warm hand shoved down the front of my jeans and all I could do was whimper in some last vestige of propriety that we shouldn't be taking this gamble. "C'mon, Annie. Be the bad girl I've loved seeing this week. Do it here with me."

Like pushing a button. A dare. A risk. My brain kicked in to assess the danger and the rewards. Who'd see us? Who'd hear? Truly, who'd not have done this with this man? With all his other talents, he had the skills to make me feel an overwhelming desire to give up anything he asked of me. I never really stood a chance whenever he decided to entice me with his willingness to give me the fantasy I wanted from him. Then again, there were his hands, one already buried in my wetness and making me wetter while the other was trying to figure out which of my breasts it was going to make happier. And let's not forget his groin and the way he rubbed himself into my ass and made me wiggle against him while his fingers worked on me from the other side. And his mouth, wet and hot on my neck, and if he wasn't careful then I wasn't going to be responsible for my actions.

My knees buckled with the force of a forbidden coming on his hand and he held me up while he whispered erotic thoughts in my ear. My head dropped forward and I started pleading with him to make this worth the sin.

"That's my girl. Turn around and show me what you want."

I was stripping out of my jeans and panties before I was able to get all the way around. I attacked his mouth, that's really the only way to describe it. But he answered the assault with one of his own.

My fingers got his fly undone and I dropped from his hold, dragging his jeans down with me as I went to my knees. I looked up at him and he was leaning in against the wall, both hands propping his body up. He'd need it, too, by the time I was finished with him. I know it was a sloppy one, but I was having fun and I think whatever he had to forgive me in terms of finesse, I more than made up for in tipsy enthusiasm.

Stopped short when his loud groans and appreciative cursing told me he might have been too close. Slipped back up his body. "Do you want me?"

"In the worst way, Annie girl." This voice of vice. He slipped his hands under me and hoisted me up off my feet. "Is this what you've been praying for?"

"Oh. God." Going slow. Taking care. For all our words of lust, showing me affection. Letting me feel all of him. Filling me up to where it nearly ached and it was the answer in that night. Moving in me, moving me with him, moving the earth, moving me to the heights I wanted to ascend. "God help me ... So good, Terry ..."

Then muttering nonsense in his ear while he repeated over and over, like a mantra to me, "Stay with me. Keep up, Annie. You know you want to come with me."

Diary, can you feel the night? The colors, the tastes, the sounds, the relief of letting go ... the way it had all led to this point of time for us? Three blocks away, the world was screaming for beads. Right there, my desire for him was screaming. There just seems to be something about giving in to a desire that pure and deep that frees your soul.

We held on to each other for a long time in that shadow of a night. Sharing a few secrets; whispering of hidden dreams and vanquished regrets; telling him how grateful I was he'd helped me erase a haunting memory that I'd never known before how to leave behind me. Sobering to what it had felt like to be that free with each other yet to still find that we felt the other to be such an enigma. Oh, sweetest Diary, and who decreed that being an enigma is such a bad thing?

Even back at the parade, we couldn't stop touching each other. I told Terry it was because I didn't want to get separated from him again but he knew I was lying. It was really because it would always only be real in this time and place of make-believe when I was holding him. He felt it, too, and I didn't need words from him to tell me that.

For so many reasons, Diary, I believe that night was magic. Even when I woke on Sunday to stagger in to the shower, I still felt a bit of the magic lingering in my bloodstream.

He left me early on Monday morning after we'd had maybe three hours sleep; we'd not gotten home until past midnight because we'd taken in the Bacchus parade and then capped Sunday night by cruising a seriously degenerate Bourbon Street.

Hours after he left, I slumped around the house and missed him. Missed Jack, too. Isn't that odd that I could feel that way ... that I could miss them both so much but differently. Waiting for Jack to come home, I went to my desk to check email. As the computer booted up, my eyes fell on various trinkets that I kept on the desk to inspire me. I picked up the jester figurine and studied him. I hadn't been able to see the smile on his face since I was 14 years old.

I had my phone in my hand before I really thought about it and next thing I heard in my ear was a gruff, "Thorne here."

"Damn, but you always sound so sexy when you're sleep deprived."

"That so?"

"This is Ann."

Little chuckle from him. "Recognized the voice, love."

"Well, you know how I hate to be rude so I thought I should just make sure you knew who was calling you."

"Any particular reason for this call?"

Sighing at his sound. "I was thinking of you and wanted you to know."

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I am, Terry. I'm good."

"You're more than good, Annie. Don't sell yourself short," he said, in that low voice of his that absolutely sent shivers up my spine.

"I'm wearing those beads you gave me," I teased him, dropping my voice soft because he'd once told me he liked the way it made him pay attention to the inflections and cadence. "And nothing else."

"Oh, Christ, woman. Don't do this to me now. I'm sitting on a plane and I've ... Wait. Hold on."

Blurting it out before I lost my courage to be honest with him: "Terry? I just wanted you to know ... You know I hate how weak you can make me feel? I think it's also something I'm never going to be willing to give up. I mean ... I know that makes no sense but when do I ever when I'm with you? I just ... it's just that you confuse me still and I realize that's part of what makes me love being with you. I like the fact that you scare me and yet you make me feel so safe. Is it okay with you if I go on being a bit off-center with you and all? ... Terry? ... You there?"

I couldn't really hear any noises in the phone and I sat there holding it and wondering why it was taking him so long to find an answer.

"Right. I'm back."

"Back? Where were you?"

Groaning into my ear. "Annie, if you're gonna entice me into phone sex, I need some privacy. So you were saying ... only the beads and nothing else?"

"That's the last thing you heard me say?"

"Yeah ... Where are you going from here? Tell me what you're doing right now." A husky voice, hoarse with desire, making me close my eyes as it drove into my mind with all the images of what his hands could be doing to me.

I talked him through my vision until we both lost ourselves to it: where I was touching myself because he wasn't there; how he'd made me crazy for him; where I was feeling him even though he was already so far away; how I'd feel next to him if he were only here; what I would be doing to him, for him, with him; what he was missing.

Neither of us said anything for so long. We could only breathe together; we'd only been able to breathe together so often in past encounters that it was strangely comforting.

Finally, a soft voice of need: "I'm so glad you called me, Annie."

"Well, you said ... I mean, you seemed like you wanted me to call you so you'd know ... I hope you know all you do for me, Terry. I also hope I'm the person you need me to be. For you."

"There's something you can do for me." Sounding almost tentative.

"Anything."

"Be there for me."

"Always."

Something in his voice and I knew he had made a decision on something important to him. I thought I knew what it was and it worried me.

"Terry? She loves you. Something fierce. Somewhere inside you, you're sure of it. Promise me you'll remember that you belong here with us."

"Promise, Annie." I heard him sigh and I knew his mind was already so far away from me.

With that response, there wasn't a doubt in my mind as to what he'd decided to do. Diary, there are so many things I might have said just then but I chose not to. He was on his own on this one and I knew I wasn't going to be the one capable of seeing him through it.

Ever a soul mate; and in this visit, I had ceased needing words from him to believe where I stood in his life.

Hard for a writer to admit, my Diary. That there are really times when words are not necessary.