[ January 17, 2004 ]

ANN

Terry had warned me and yet I never really believed him. That thought came blaring into my mind as we entered the big room and the reality of this day settled in on me. I gripped in hard on his hand and he smiled down at me with his customary reassurance.

"Told you," he snorted to me but I read this bit of concern in his eyes.

"Do I get my pick?" I joked to him, just to show I still had a sense of humor.

"Yeah. And you picked me. The others don't measure up to your exacting standards, love."

We chuckled at each other but I didn't miss that look of his. So I yanked on his hand and when he stopped, I reached up to give him a kiss. "So I got the pick of the litter then. Or should I tell you that? Hate to stroke your ego, Terry."

"Something else you'd like to stroke instead?"

"You bet. Let's go back to the room."

That was all he'd needed to hear. Really. Just the acknowledgement that I'd be on my guard and that he didn't need to worry about me like some of his brothers worried about bringing their women to these clan gatherings.

I should have always believed him, but I just never could have imagined the way it would make me feel to be in a room full of these men. I mean, it wasn't like I didn't feel this fucking 'pull' thing every time Terry was anywhere near and it wasn't like I hadn't long since figured out that the 'pull' was the reason I'd had that reaction to Max the first time I'd met him.

Not to mention Max's reaction to me that time. Actually, once I let myself think about it, hadn't I felt some small niggly thing the other two times I'd seen Max? Thought about the last time ... I had met him for lunch a little more than a month earlier when I'd flown into London on a stop over. Still, once Terry had told me about this pull thing, I'd had no real trouble controlling it around Max. And he was the same as me. We weren't really interested in each other that way; we were neither of us the kind who mess around when we say we won't. We just were the kind of people who could refuse to let the pull affect us.

With Dino, the pull just seemed to manifest itself in this way that I had an awareness of him if he was nearby. I never felt a longing for more than friendship with him. And the only times I'd seen either Lachlan or Bud, I'd been with Terry so nothing much really would have had a chance of getting through but his aura. When I'd met Jack, I will admit that I was quite taken with him but then I think Jack could charm any woman.

So I rather blithely dissed on Terry's repeated warnings that when we were at this Gathering of his weird little clan, I needed to be on my guard for feeling this pull with all his brothers around.

I had said, flip as always in the face of his worries, that no other man ever existed if Terry was within a mile of me. Which, of course, led to his smart mouth interpreting that as a challenge that I might have needed a reminder that a mile or a million miles, when it came to me, he was the only man who existed.

Yes, sir. Indeed. I liked the way he reminded me.

It was a change from a bit of the tension we'd been under anyway. Neither of us was handling my new promotion too well. It had gotten old that we were struggling to make appointments just to catch each other. He'd opened the London office and was there pretty often if I were on the continent so that at least I'd be able to see him over a weekend. Just grab a hop over to London, screw my husband blind and then limp back into the job on Monday. It wasn't at all the kind of home life I'd ever imagined.

He was trying hard to deal with this arrangement even if he was increasingly letting his irritation show. It wasn't 'settled' enough for him. And while I battled with this fear that I was getting soft about my career and in danger of settling too much into this woman who sought a life that revolved too sickeningly and clingingly much around her man, I also battled his continual pressure on me. He picked up on this ambivalence I'd been feeling; he was a lot of man to resist when he put his mind to manipulating my desire to be with him. He was the master at knowing your weaknesses and exploiting them.

But he could also make me feel that everything that happened to be keeping us apart so much was my fault. Maybe in some ways it was; but even if I had been a stay-at-home wife, his own work would have kept us separated a lot. His giving compromise in working out of London had been like this promise that we would both bend for the sake of creating a future we wanted -- one that included giving each other permission to continue to pursue the work we each loved. I was trying to figure out if there was a way I could compromise without giving up every dream I ever had in terms of being independent enough to accomplish my own professional goals.

Added to this was some professional tension. I wasn't quite as happy as I thought this supposedly great career move should have made me. The new assignment wasn't so great even if it was a challenge and even if I did really enjoy the thrill of chasing these stories. But the longer I was on this routine with so much traveling, the more it reminded me of my year in exile in Central America. I never was that great with being away from home all the time. Like Terry, I longed for a more settled home life. I was beginning to yearn for a job that would allow me to be in DC whenever Terry was there. It was the only chance we'd ever have to see more of each other. I missed being with him like you just would never know. It was on my mind constantly.

Bottom line? I was lonely and wanted to back off the job but didn't know how to do it without it looking like I'd failed. I had never once thought I'd think of my career in terms of how it affected my personal life -- as if the two should have worked together instead of being mutually exclusive.

If I told him, I wondered, what would he say? I couldn't see him showing me empathy nor helping me make a smart decision based on logic and not emotion. If I told him that I was trying to find that elusive job in DC that would be both a good career move and would involve stabilizing our home life, I figured he'd increase the pressure I was under already. He'd hound me on it.

I didn't need to be hounded. Not since my first real attempt at landing a new job had been a dismal failure. God, that had been such a crushing blow to my ego! I'd contacted some editors I knew at two of the dailies in DC to ask about openings. The only thing one had open was a general assignment position. It was actually lower on the totem pole than I should have looked at, but I figured it was a foot in the door. So I'd applied for it. And when I'd been in DC just before coming to England with Terry for this Gathering, I'd gone in for the interview.

The position should have been mine. I had all the credentials. I had no doubt that there was no one who could have been better. It wasn't like I hadn't been a daily reporter for years, right?

But the day before we were coming over here, I got this call and it was bad news. They liked me, but in a tight market, they felt they had the luxury of choosing someone who had 'current' credentials. They hadn't chosen me almost solely out of concern that my years working on the magazine had dulled my ability to chase hard news and work under daily deadlines. I couldn't believe it; the editor had said I would face this reaction as long as I had clips that were so out of date.

By the time Terry had gotten home from the office that day, I'd screwed on a happy face just for him. I didn't want to spoil this precious time we had together. He'd been so pleased that I'd moved heaven and earth to be with him for the week before this trip and for the trip here to jolly old England. When he'd told me one night, late at night and us both on the phone rather than touching each other, that we needed to re-connect or we'd miss too much ... it had been the final thing to make me see that I wanted to make changes.

I'd almost said something to him on the plane over about my attempt to find another job but I hated to talk about my embarrassing failure when he was feeling edgy about this Gathering.

He had told me about Max's suspicions of Isobel, Jack's bride-to-be, whom I'd not met. Terry had run a background check on her for Max and it was 'too clean,' he'd said. I had rolled my eyes and reminded him of how he'd had felt in the face of Max's reaction to our marriage. I got his sour lemon face and dropped the subject. We didn't need something else to bicker about.

So added to the way he felt about bringing me to the first Gathering I would attend, Terry was also apprehensive about how Maximus wanted to handle the Isobel and Jack issue.

And here we were. My first Gathering. My God. Good God. The first one I see is none other than ...

"Oh my God! It's Hando! Fuckity fuck!" I hissed at Terry.

He gave me a glare and dragged me to the other side of the room. Stuck a champagne glass in my hand and reminded me I'd promised to be good. Then he spied Lachlan and Darcy across the room and guided me over there. I liked Lachlan. Other than Max and Dino, he was the only one of Terry's brothers I actually had met more than once.

So after we do some chatting, it's a natural that Terry and Lach are deep into conversations on insane Australian sports ... and Darcy and I are trying to chat about this and that. But she's busy watching her kids and I skeedaddle out of the way when it looks like I'm just basically distracting her. I mean, what to say to Darcy? I wish to God I was a normal woman so I'd know how to talk about kids more than to just say, "My, what a cutie patootie!"

I wandered over to the bar but halfway there, I spied Maximus. Max! Standing up near the wall and surveying the room like he's ... "Which one is the assassin?" I stage whisper to Max as I walk up on him.

He gives me this puzzled look and I grin at him. So he knows I'm yanking his chain and really, he likes that I do this. True to my Southern roots, there isn't a chance that I won't hug him as he is family. But true to my acknowledgement of the pull's power, I make it the briefest and chastest hug on record.

We make chit chat. I am really just so relieved to see someone I know relatively well. I ask about his wife and child; he nods in the direction of a beautiful woman and gorgeous toddler. When I remark on their loveliness, he allows this small smile.

"So, Max, you're looking great," I say, trying to be charming and pleased to get a little blush. "I love this jacket. It looks quite nice on you."

He clears his throat, thanks me and tells me, "You look very lovely tonight, Ann. I am so pleased you were able to make this Gathering."

Just then, Andy and one of Lach's boys come tearing through chasing each other and Max is looking like he's about to unleash all manner of hell on them when they dare to haul up short and stare at his cute little girl, so I take his arm and ask him to come get a drink with me.

So we take our glasses and we are chatting. I like Max. He is a nice guy to me. But he's also a bit of a hard ass. Then again, I really rather feel for the position he is in -- he's rather like the patriarch of this boisterous group and as such, he can't hardly let his guard down. But a few times, I actually drag a laugh out of him and once he even touches my shoulder, leans in and tells me a small joke of his own. I act like it's the cleverest thing I've ever heard and I think it helps him relax.

But I feel the hand on my waist just after and know it's Terry. He says he has some other brothers he'd like me to meet and I know what's up. He wants me close for a while until he sizes up the room and, more than anything, he really wants me to not flirt with any of his brothers. I hadn't even realized I'd been flirting with Max. But I had. Fucking pull, I groan to myself, it's a tough mistress.

For the longest time, I am sticking right with Terry. I see Bud and get to meet Natalie and their kids. My God. I meet Hando and Jody and am insanely intimidated by him. Her, too, frankly. Never in a million years do I want to meet SID but I smile at him and shake his cold hand just before I grip Teener's warm hand and cannot help the insane thoughts about what life must be like for her. Jack is there at last and I am grinning just to see him again as he bows over my hand ... Terry tells him my eyes are up here when Jack has a tough time finding them as he straightens up. There is just something about Jack that feels like warmth and affection and ... my God, he is such a man. He is nearly overwhelming in his way. I was smitten with his smile and his style from the first moment I'd met him but in this day, I feel more of the Lucky Jack I've read about and realize he is a powerful force because he has such strength and courage and desire. Isobel flirts mercilessly with Terry (and every other man in there, actually) and it rather makes me feel better to see I'm not the only flirt in the room. But she's a whole hell of a lot more brazen than I'll ever be and I think I'll throw that up in Terry's face except I can see, he isn't too sure about her so I don't make the comparison as it will backfire for sure.

Finally, we run into Heather and Dino. Whew. But then Dino and Terry take off to talk business and that's okay by me because I have Heather around to talk to. We take up where we left off last time we were together. We talk even as we are walking around checking on Andy's whereabouts and giggling over his fascination with Max's daughter.

And for maybe the last half hour, I've been faking it harder than anyone would ever realize. Because it hasn't failed my notice that Terry is being affected by the pull. At least, I assume that's what it is. And the oddest thing of all is, I am not normally a jealous person when it comes to Terry. I know he notices other women, but when we're together, he's really good at not being obvious about it. And he's a flirt but it's always a safe kind of flirting. But with all that's been going on between us, maybe I'm just a bit too sensitive when I see him staring at Max's wife. Uma.

I've caught him doing it three times by this point. Once, he was standing right next to me. And just in this last half hour, it's like he's got eyes for only her. He's barely flickered his eyes at me from across the room. But he stares at her for long enough for me to notice. And she's all eyes for him. Who wouldn't be? Even in a room full of his brothers, it's Terry I think is a magnet. Well, he's certainly a magnet for Mrs. Maxie. I wouldn't mind that, I suppose, except I do mind the way it feels that he's got me girding my loins against the power of the pull but he seems to be enjoying letting it affect him. That hurts. It slams right into my fragile ego. Am I no longer good enough for him?

So I don't mind at all to be following Heather out into the grounds to watch Andy being a boy for a while. But then she has to take him to the bathroom and I'm standing there when Dino comes out. When I ask, he says that Terry's wandering around chatting with some of the Aussie brothers he rarely sees.

Inside, I don't see Terry and instantly feel contrite that what I'm really doing is checking to see if he's with her. Uma. But he's not. I'm standing right by the banquet table so I decide to pretend that's why I was in there.

But then I see her coming over. Uma. God. What can I possibly say to this woman that Terry says is this brainiac historian who looks so put together and has a man like Maximus enthralled and is the perfect wife ... Well, to hear Terry tell the tale ... he really should never have thrown up in my face during that last argument we had about me not being home when he was that he wished I'd be more like Uma ... Uma. Paragon of womanhood, I say snidely to myself. Has this great career but gives it up to become the perfect wife and mommie.

In the instant before she's upon me, I make the decision to not hold that against her. Is it her fault she's the one Terry chooses to cite? It could just as easily have been Darcy. Or Heather.

Well, except it was Uma, wasn't it?  And despite my noble intentions, all she has to do is open her mouth and I hear that proper British voice come out and I am instantly set against the woman. Because on top of every other thing she has going for her that Terry would have to go and find wanting in me, she's a fucking proper lady! Jesus Christ! I just cannot hate her more if I tried.

She baits me, the bitch. The perfect whore bitch. Fuck her. I get her back, though. I say the one thing I know will cut her off at her knees ... I remind Little Mrs. Perfection that she is no longer anything with a title except 'Max's wife' and 'Lily's mom.' I remind her by asking her what she does for a living. God. That is just the fucking cattiest thing and I cannot believe I have done it! But it still makes me feel good when she stammers about and I love that her daughter chooses that moment to get clingy.

But then she shows me what she's made of, she does. Because she zings me with something that cuts at my heart. And I think she knew it would, too. I feel the knife go in sharp and deadly ... zip! Man, she's good. Asking me about our 'plans' for children ... and I wonder if she has some kind of sixth sense that knew there was a reason we didn't have children? God, would you just look at where I am? In this family where every woman who's been married any length of time has given up her career and had kids? In this clan where the patriarch believes it's the woman's highest duty to procreate? And me? Yeah. Me. The one who can't. And I just have to wonder ... did she know or just sense that I couldn't? The fucking bitch.

That set me up for war. Sharp words. Nasty tone. And Terry ... ever alert to my temper and shocked as hell it would come out in this setting because that's not like me. He's already edging over but before he can really make his move, Max is snapping his fingers at Uma and she's going to him like he's her daddy. Oh. Man. That would so piss me off if someone did that to me. But since it's happened to her, it cracks me the hell up.

On the other hand. I look at Terry, already near me and I can see that look in his eyes. I wink at him and he tries hard to not look amused.

He takes my hand and leads me into a dance near the little combo playing soft sentimental tunes. "What was that about?" he finally asks me.

"You."

He doesn't say anything at first so I finally look up into his face to find him smug. He catches my glare and tries to act innocent. "You girls having a cat fight over me? Maybe there's a mud puddle somewhere around. We can toss you in to have a bit of a wrestle. Winner gets me for the night. Might like that."

"Fuck off," I tell him and he can tell that his flip remark missed the mark by a mile. "And stop having mental sex with her."

"Annie ..."

"Wouldn't you rather have real sex with the woman who loves you?" I purr against his neck, changing tactics on him, needing to get a physical reaction from him. I let my hand smooth down his chest even while I do a very slow and deceptive bump and grind against him. Not that it deceives him, as it's not meant to, but to anyone watching ... I think it would simply look like I was moving to the beat. "God, you feel so good. I'm dying to taste you. Come be bad with me."

My reward is that deep swallow he does and the feel of him moving with more purpose in this dance even while he moves so he can whisper against my ear. Knowing his mind is now on me alone. "Don't start anything you're not willing to see through to the end, Annie. Be a good girl now, love, or I may show you what I do to bad girls."

"I'm always good, specially when I'm bad." But now I am running my hand along his back and inching down to his ass and he knows it, too. He can probably smell my arousal and I can feel his. I'm all but cooing at him. "C'mon, Terry. Let's make your brothers jealous. Show 'em all that even in a room of them, your woman can think of nothing but having you. Let 'em see what you do to me. God. I want you in my mouth. Let's cut out of here. Find a spare closet and just put this sexual tension to good use."

And all the time I am talking to him ... low and breathy, kissing lightly across his neck ... my hand is on his ass but being subtle about it all ... trying to seduce him with some class but deadly serious in my need.

"Sure it's not old Maxie you'd rather be going into a closet with?" he asks me hoarsely as his hands press me in tight to his groin and it's then I realize ... he needs a bit of reassurance of his own.

I glance over to where Max is; he and Uma just then look up at us and I know they're talking about us. My eyes find Terry's and I see his need fighting for domination with his aggression. "Max may be a nice guy to me, but he sure the fuck doesn't measure up to you from where I stand. In fact, look around you, bebe. There isn't a man in this room that stands up to you in any way, shape or form. How is it you do that, after all this time? How is it that just the hint of a reminder of what a lover you are can make my knees shake? You'd think I'd be more used to that by now but it just seems to get worse the longer we're married. I want you so bad right now that it's all I can think about."

"Let's go."

God. He's got that tough man look on him and he knows what it does to me. But he isn't doing it on purpose. It's just that when he's wanting me like this, it's how he gets. He's leading me out of the room and I find myself smiling at how good it feels to be his woman. I glance up as he turns me toward the entrance and I catch Max's eye. Max gives me this conspiratorial look that tells me he knows just what we're up to; I wink at him and his fleeting grin tells me he loves that we're about to be naughty.

We're walking down the hall and I try to drag Terry into a closet, but his head shakes and he says one word: "Room."

Oh. God. My knees shake. He makes me wait by the elevator and when he returns, he's strutting just a bit and he's carrying a bottle of champagne and two flutes.

Inside our room, I try to get him undressed, but he whispers to me to slow down. He pours champagne and takes my hand in his to sit on the couch. He draws me down to straddle his lap and he simply watches me sip. I am so wet by the way he's looking at my body by then that it's a wonder I don't slide off him.

He acts like we have all day even though I had thought this would be a short interlude of frantic, rip-our-clothes-off sex. But then his talented fingers nudge my top off effortlessly. He mutters to me that he wants a taste ... just a little taste ... and he's licking and sucking at my breasts ... I try so hard to relax.

As always, Terry notices things like that. He is whispering to me, mouth right at my ear while his fingers search under my skirt and brush against the wet crotch of my panties. His words are really just this free-form recitation of flitting thoughts in his brain. "Feels so good, Annie girl. Let me love you ... Always you. You know that, right? Only you ...  My Annie."

"I know you would like me to be something different, Terry. Sometimes, I just feel like I'm not good enough," I tell him ... straight out of nowhere and yet I need to tell him this. "Are you embarrassed that I'm not more like them? The other wives?"

His head raises and he fixes me with a long look. Licks his lips. Takes my glass away and sets it down on the table beside us. Then strokes my face with his fingers and really focuses on me. "You know better than that. There are no women like you, Ann. No one else even comes close. I may be a bastard but the truth is, I don't want you to give in to me. Not just to make me happy. I want you to be happy, too."

"Really?"

I love his smile. The way it changes him to this boy who sees your foibles and knows he could make real hay with exploiting them, but all he does is smile at you ... and I'm blushing before him even as he's tickling me.

"They'd be shocked if they ever knew how insecure you are, you nong," he teases me. "Good job I love you. Your secrets are safe with me, hey?"

And then his body wants to remind me of how much he loves me. His fingers move with purpose, dodging under the edges of my panties and stroking with this perfect touch across my clitoris. I whimper in anticipation. I would have it no other way. I need him to show me. I need to know he has true, unbridled desire for me.

But this is as much about his needs as mine. He needs to know he can and always will make me weak with my desire of him. He needs to see just how helpless I am when it comes to him. He needs proof that my world revolves around him. This is a strange weekend for him, after all. There with all his clan, just the least bit uncertain about all this mess with how the legendary pull might affect even us ... always this part of Terry that's waiting to lose what he holds most dear because he might not deserve it.

He has his own insecurities. We neither of us can ever get over that we have the particular vulnerabilities we do. But then we see each other with love. And passion.

"Stand up," he tells me and I'm on my feet instantly. He raises his chin ... this tiny movement ... his eyes glance at my skirt and I know what he wants.

I unzip slowly and then let my skirt fall to the floor, then kick it away. He lets out this low growl of absolute approval as I turn slowly around for his appraisal. It makes me feel wild to see the way he's looking at me, the way he knows I've dressed this way on purpose because he loves this look. Black lace garter belt. Smokey silk stockings. High heels. Satin panties now showing unmistakable wet stains. In my sultriest voice, I ask him, "What shall I remove next, bebe?"

He crooks a finger and I go to him. My panties are on the floor in a few seconds and he's rising up before me ... shedding his shirt as he steps toward me and backs me up.

"You sure you ready for me, little girl? Think you can take on a man like me?" Saying it in his rough whiskey voice ... a deft maneuver to regain his power.

But I don't want it to be too easy for him, so I fight back with, "You sure you're man enough to take me?"

Crowding me and forcing me to retreat as he skims his undershirt over his head. Giving me a warning look when I reach toward his pants and I back up instead as he keeps advancing and he's dropping his pants as he's still moving. It's this slow, deliberate dance in which he's moved me to just where he's wanted me all along ... with the back of my knees bumping against the mattress and making me stop as he lets his body only get close enough to mine to intrude on my personal space.

I let only my fingerprints examine him. His mouth. God. The way it looks as he parts his lips in anticipation. His neck ... the feel of it as he takes in a deep swallow. His chest ... the rise and fall of it as he breathes in and out. His hips that lead to his thighs ...

And just as I stroke lightly up his cock, his hand touches along my wrist. I close my eyes because there is always something about the way he does this that overwhelms me and I never have figured out exactly why. But then he lets me just touch him. I am just about to sink to my knees, to drag my lips from his neck and descend slowly down his body, when his big hands on my ass stop me.

A subtle move from him that registers loud and clear with me. His hands drop down the back of my thighs to remind me of the garters, which he strums lightly just before his fingers worry at the top of the hose. Then one hand draws my leg up over his thigh ... he's got a grip on my knee and he's edging his leg into my wetness even as he's diving into my neck and bending me backwards.

My hair feels itchy along the lower reaches of my spine as it swings and sways as my head tilts back and I try to keep up with his searching mouth. He bites in ... hard enough that at least a subtle mark will show ... can't help the whimper that slips out.

This reaction of mine ... the way I am simply letting him manipulate my body while only my hands can have any sway with his ... it gets to him ... it makes him remember ...

Deep grunt at me and he's lifting my body up his until my ankles are locked behind his waist and we are nearly eye-to-eye. And ... so simply ... he leans in and kisses me so devastatingly that my toes curl.

I get lost in the kiss. He takes so much time. My arms go around his neck slowly, not wanting to interrupt the pace of the kiss. And just as we deepen the kiss and I catalog the feel of his cock against me in this position ... he eases out of the kiss with his normal expertise. His hands caress my back and he hugs me into him.

My face is buried in his neck but then I am peeking over his shoulder. "My God but you're a work of art."

"What, baby?" The words coming from him so soft.

"I can see us. In the mirror. God, Terry. You should see. Your back ... the way it moves as you touch me. You just ... you should be against the law because you are too beautiful and too sexy. It looks so ..."

I am about to describe him but he turns to look and our eyes meet in the mirror even as he's turning around so he can now see my back in the mirror. At first he's a smart ass, muttering to me about what a 'great arse' I have ... but then he says so low, as if in wonder, "You look so small in my arms. Like I could hurt you so easy."

"You'd never hurt me, though. Never."

"Never. I love you too much," he says with such sincerity as he rewards me with his full attention. Kissing me and I barely notice he's walking us over to the mirror ... the mirror ... this huge mirror that forms the back of the low chest of drawers in this room. He sets me down on my feet, turns me to face it. "Look at you."

"Look at you," I kid him back.

He shakes his head ... he wants to be serious so I drop into serious mode. His hands heft my breasts and he tells me to notice how they change color, how they almost blush up when I am aroused. He strokes between my thighs and tells me to watch how my body seems to soften as he does this. Look at your mouth, he says, and I note how my lips part and I'm panting.

His lips are against my ear, his voice husky. "Now watch your eyes when you come. You have such beautiful eyes but when you come for me, they glow. Watch."

I watch. I don't really know that I see what he means because when I come, I can't really pay attention. When it's over, he seats me on the chest top and I am stroking his hardness and he is telling me that he wants to watch as he fucks me this way. But he's in no rush ... he is taking so much time ... and the funniest thing is that he's not really watching in the mirror ... he's really watching where we're joined. He's watching himself disappear and then come out ... so slow ... incredibly tantalizing.

It makes me come ... that feeling of belonging to him ... this man ... this man who loves me and I cannot perhaps appreciate the strange things happening in this day but this I know ... he loves me. The way that feels.

He curses hard as I spasm around his cock and lose myself inside the coming. Before I can even recover, he's pumping hard and chasing after his own satisfaction. I whimper and moan as he grunts into me. And his rough, rough groan of satisfied man sounds like the best thing I've heard in a long time.

We are both so satiated by what we've done that we just hold each other up. But then he's carrying me to the bed and we're sliding under blankets and it's a time of utter contentment for me. It's been a good ten days of time just for each other and I feel that we've re-connected ... any problems we're having cannot be that big if we still feel this way about each other. I promise myself that I will tell him about the job hunt because he will see that it is an answer for us. He won't let me down ... we'll surprise each other by recognizing this compromise is a great thing for us.

And as mellow as I am in this moment, I realize with a start that what I'd done with Uma was wrong on several counts. Over and above how little is solved in families by waging war. No, it's more than that. It's important to Terry that his family think I have class if for no other reason than it reflects on him. And that scene with Uma was anything but a show of class on my part. So I am determined to put on the proper face for his family for the rest of this weekend.

As I drowse in his arms after we make love, I can feel tension in his body. He usually would be spent and cuddling with me after a session like that with such emotion and power. But he's restless and before long, he's sliding out of the bed. When he goes to shower, I lay there in the sheets that smell of us and wonder what I can do to ease his mind. I fear it's mostly nerves and edginess in being there with his clan. But I also know he's worried about how Max will handle discussing with Jack about the concerns he and Terry have over the background check Terry did on Isobel.

I have told Terry that it's wrong for them to try to stop the wedding ... I reminded him of Max's reaction to ours. But I got his glare and a lecture about how we all knew from the founding books that Jack cannot help but make mistakes when he's ashore. It's their responsibility to protect Jack, he has told me. I trust Terry's judgment. But I do think they have to acknowledge that in the end, it's Jack's choice, not theirs.

But I would never say that to anyone else. It would be disloyal to Terry.

I watch him walking out of the bathroom and getting dressed. I'm sleepy enough that I just watch him. I think it's also the champagne that's getting to me a bit. But it comes to me what I can do for him ... I can be softer and more compliant during this time when he's got other worries. I can be one less worry for him. I can make the effort to get along with everyone. Even Uma.

He gives me a soft, sweet kiss on his way out and I love the smile on his face. I love the swagger he does as he walks out the door. I'm on my feet and rushing to get cleaned up, makeup freshened and clothes back on ... I want to join him before too long and just be there to support him.

I come rushing out of the room and am shocked to see his familiar form leaning against the wall and looking into a half-open room down the hall. I had thought he'd long ago have been back at the party.

"What you looking at?" I ask him as I come up softly behind him. And it's so unlike him ... I've actually been able to sneak up on him. Never happens. Something has him totally engrossed. And as he moves off, trying to nudge me to go along with him down the hall, I can't help looking into the room.

Uma. Lying in her bed, all wrapped up in being with Lily.

Mother and child.

I see them as he must have ... an unattainable gift that any good man would want. Something I'd never be for him. That's a powerful thing for a woman to realize ... that her man is lusting after another woman and the evidence of her fertility adds to the allure.

It felt like being dunked in ice water. I willed myself not to react. Or at least not to show a reaction. He didn't need me reacting. Not now. He needed me being an adult and able to focus on his needs as he returned to his clan. I stared at her and then I stared inward. I tried hard to swallow down how it felt to once again be found wanting. I wondered if he'd ever know how that felt.

I took a deep breath and looked up to find his eyes on me. I looked away instantly because I wanted to hide the way it hurt to have to wonder about this.

But he knew. He didn't say a word as I joined him to wait on the elevator. But inside, he put his arms around me and whispered, "It's us, right? We never lie to each other. You know how I feel about you. Right?"

"Sure," I whispered back. Swallowed down the hurt. "You love me."

And then the doors opened and I plastered a smile on my lips and I was determined to make this work out good. For him. For Terry. Only for him.

Good intentions, hey?

We got through the rest of the evening without much incident. I noticed a distinct distance with Isobel and I felt bad that she was obviously so unhappy with me. If I could have taken back those words about the background check, I would have. That was so snotty of me to say. The truth, but still snotty.

I stuck close to Terry. We spent a lot of time dancing and he flirted hard and rather obviously with me. It's the surest way to tell Terry's feeling a bit guilty about something.

But I was able to rationalize for a while. It was the 'pull,' it wasn't him. And anything else? We'd deal with it later, away from the incredible power of the way it felt to be around his family.

But no matter what ... a couple, they always know when the tension between them is not that easy to clear up, don't they?

We got through the whole rest of the evening and had a great time together, even if we were both never really relaxed in a situation that seemed to insist on us always being on guard. But then a rude reminder of real life issues came sneaking back at us when my cell rang as we were waiting for the elevator. Terry rolled his eyes and I knew he was irritated because even on vacation the magazine called me to ask questions or verify quotes. This reminder of a source of irritation between us ... so not what we needed.

He told me he'd meet me in the room after having a smoke; then gently pushed me into the elevator, punching the floor button and giving me this wave as I tried to deal with the crisis du jour as the magazine hit publishing deadline. I leaned out and watched him yanking his cigarettes from his pocket as he walked away.

An hour later, I sat in the window seat and stared at a moon that should have made me mellow but it only made me sad. I knew why, too. It had nothing really to do with all this other stuff going on. Nope.

It was that look on Terry's face when I'd caught him watching Uma and her girl.

When Terry got back, I was already in bed, pretending to be asleep. He crawled in next to me and I could smell the booze. It made me shake ... this thought ... all that stress on him and I'm adding to it. And he's making cow eyes at his brother's wife and wishing he had a wife who'd give him children and be all those things a man like him spends a lifetime wanting in his wife.

He heard me sniffle and gave me this exasperated chuff.

And that was it.

Oh man. I hate fighting with him.

I always end up crying. I always end up wounded. Not that I haven't learned some shorthanded ways to bring him up short.

Why it flares up again into this old fight we'd had when it seemed to me we'd had this tacit understanding that we would not pick at this wound ... I don't know why it happens.

He hates my new position with the magazine. Terry tells me life is passing us by while I dick around with this shitty career ... that if I really loved him, I'd see he needed me. That he needs me to be there for him ... like the other wives do. That he makes plenty of money ... that it really pisses him off so I better sure as fuck not say again that I'm not working only for the money but that I am also keeping my career because I don't want to be dependent on him.

Damn but how that pisses him off whenever that slips out of my mouth. It's not the only thing that slips out. I could lie to him and I could tell him all sorts of PC things, but the truth is ... my career is part of my identity and I have no desire to give it up. And I resent that it's me that has to make the sacrifice.

And deep in the midst of this shouting match, I hear my inner voice say, 'tell him you're looking for another job! Show him you have the same commitment to this marriage, maybe more of a commitment.' But that's not what I say.

Nope. Instead, I say, "I saw you looking at her. Is she what you really want? God, when did I stop being good enough for you, Terry?"

And there's a void between us. A big big void. A void that he bridges the instant he reaches for me. His hand on my cheek and he's seeing the wounds. He knows most are self-inflicted but he also knows that with the right whispered comment he can heal the ones he's cut into my heart that night.

"I only want you, Annie. Only you."

Only when he says it do I see just how I'd opened myself up to him exploiting that insecurity of mine. I nearly choke with grateful tears that he's willfully chosen to make this better between us rather than worse. And I thank God that Terry Thorne is smart enough to know not to add that tired old male excuse to the end of that statement he made ... the one that begins, 'but I'm only a man' and ends with 'I'm not dead yet; of course I look at other women. It doesn't mean anything.'

Because he may think it and he may say something that honest to me at other times, but he is smart and sensitive enough to know just exactly how wrong that would be. He knows how he's made me feel to have seen him watching her when I'm right there in this place with him.

"I can't stand the way we've been acting to each other. It scares me," I whisper back to him and move in against his body. "If I lost you, Terry, I don't know that life would mean too much to me."

"Feel the same way, baby. Same way ... Look, we had a fight. That's all." He holds me to him, his arms tightening around me and I can barely breathe. My fingers are digging into his back and I'm willing to disappear inside him just to keep him with me.

"It's that fucking pull. You have to fight it, Terry."

"It's not a problem for me. Yeah, so I noticed her. Noticed them all. So what? I'm not going to do anything. You know that, right? I want you. Not them. You."

I knew it. I knew it from the way he touched me. From the way he made love with me ... both of us frantic for the other ... telling each other things as we struggled to see who would service the other and who would say the words of deepest passion.

In the morning, I stumbled back to the bed from using the bathroom and took one look at the mess we'd made in the room. I was giggling as I jumped back under the covers and snuggled my cold body up to Terry's warm one. He cranked one eye open at me, groaned and told me to put my mind to use ... figure out a nicer way to wake my man.

Mornings with Terry. They are like so much else in our life. You never quite know what he'll do, but you can be sure it will be done with his own style. And they will never go by without him making real note of what's being said and what's not being said. And even when he's getting on my last nerve, he's never that far from the one action that will capture me all over again.

I was laying there with him after, my face on his belly and my fingers idly stroking through the hair along his leg. And he did the one thing that made nothing else matter. He grabbed me up in his arms, kissed me long slow deep wet ... all those great things ... and told me he'd had a dream.

"Remember our wedding?" he asked me. I watched his eyes. "Don't know where I'd be in life if you hadn't married me, Annie baby."

I was so filled with the fullness of what that felt like, that I wondered what good thing I'd done in another life to deserve him. I have thought back on those words so often in my darker moments.

[ January 18, 2004 ]

ANN

Weddings typically chase the inbred cynic out of me. Now, that's saying a lot because, as Terry has often noted, I am a professional cynic.

Perhaps it is that I never go to weddings anymore unless they are for dear friends whom I know are taking the big leap into an institution that has an amazing failure rate. So when you're standing there witnessing two people hoping against hope that their love will prove to be one of the ones that are resilient against all bad things to come in their lives, if they're people you care about, you believe.

It brings out the hopeless romantic in me. All during the wedding of Isobel and Jack, I held Terry's hand and when they said their vows, we were looking right in each other's eyes and remembering when we'd said those words to each other.

In the reception line, I kissed Jack's cheek and shook Isobel's hand, telling them, "I hope you will be as happy as Terry and I are. If so, life will be good for you both."

Jack thanked me for the sweet sentiment; Isobel gave me a frozen smile. As we walked away, I told Terry, "She doesn't like me very much. Looks like that's two of the wives I've managed to piss off this weekend."

He glanced back over his shoulder at Isobel, his hand on my elbow, leading me into the reception area, saying, "Just as soon you not be too chummy with Isobel. But, Annie, you need to make an effort with Max's wife. Put on the sweet face with her, right?"

I frowned at him but an instant later, I put on the happy face and nodded. It's why I found myself with that plastic smile plastered on my lips for the next God-knows-how-many hours. About the only time I could relax was when I was out in the foyer of the place, talking on my phone to the office. I was only gone about fifteen minutes. At the most.

We'd been almost perfect angels. I'd smiled at Uma and made some polite compliments on her dress and on her perfect daughter. I'd noticed that Terry was working hard to avoid those long deep stares in her eyes. I was even at this point of feeling like a silly old cow for worrying that this was anything he couldn't handle.

But then I walked back in that reception area to find the band playing and Terry swaying.

Only he was swaying on that dance floor with Uma. And there was just something about the way they were relating to each other ... their attention not just focused on the other but seeming more alive to be together than they'd been the whole weekend.

I turned to leave because I wanted to not be watching something that was making me feel guilty for being nervous but Max was suddenly right at my elbow.  Telling me that he appreciated Terry giving Uma some time on the dance floor.

"How come you're not out there cutting a rug with her, Max?" I asked him and from the way he looked at me, I knew he had heard that note of irritation in my voice.

He gave this little snort, smiled at me and said, "I never acquired a taste for dancing, Ann."

"But you do know how, huh?"

He shifted uncomfortably and looked off over the dance floor.

"Oh, Max. That's such a shame. There's nothing better than moving in a nice slow dance with someone you love. You should let me show you. Then you could sweep your lovely wife off her feet. I don't know any woman who doesn't love to dance in the arms of a man she loves."

I watched as his eyes latched onto Uma. I turned and looked at her and Terry. They were so engrossed with each other that they never noticed how everyone was noticing their moves. I wondered just what was so amusing. I wondered if she could be any clearer that she had the raging red hots for him.

And I wondered if this upset Max. I looked back at him and took in the intensity of his gaze on them. I touched his arm and when he looked at me, I gave him my sweetest smile. "C'mon, Max. Let's find us an out of the way corner and let me show you a few easy steps. Don't do it for you. Do it for Uma. Show her Terry's not the only one with moves on the dance floor."

Over out of the view of most members of his family, I stood with him and showed him a simple waltz step. When he had it down pat, I heard the band launching smoothly into a slow number so I dragged him with me to the dance floor. When he balked, I whispered to him not to embarrass me by leaving me standing there all alone. It was how I finally got him to dance with me.

Before the music had been playing very long, I tickled in along his neck and told him to stop looking at his feet. "You'll just get too concerned with the steps that way, Max. Look in my eyes instead. You'll find that your body will just move with the rhythm."

"This is ridiculous. I feel like a fool."

"Well, you don't feel like one to me, Max. You feel nice. Oh, Max, come on. Do you really hate dancing with me that much? You make me feel like such a loser."

"Very well. I shall endeavor to do my best."

"That's the spirit. Now instead of concentrating on your feet, concentrate on me. Tell me a joke."

He chuckled at me, catching on that I was trying to get his attention off him counting time and steps. "I cannot simply call up a joke at will in such a circumstance."

"Well then, I'll tell you a joke instead. Let's see now. What joke do I know that might translate well enough to make a Roman General stuck living in England laugh?" I paused and then launched into a joke about the differences between men and women. It was rude but basically clean. It made him laugh.

The music switched away from a waltz and into a slow, sweet Marvin Gaye number that made Max groan when I begged him to dance this one with me, too. When he said he didn't know how to dance to this, I told him we could still do a waltz, we'd just have to do it a bit differently. He turned that gaze on me ... this soft smile on his face that makes him look so young. I told him how when I was growing up, I'd learned the Cajun waltz from my dad and not known until I was living in California that there was one big difference between a Cajun waltz and a waltz the rest of the world did.

"What difference is that?" he asked me.

"Well, a Cajun waltz, besides being a bit more upbeat, is actually done really well only when the dancers are really able to be close. Like cheek to cheek. It makes it so much easier for the man to lead and the woman to follow. That's how we should do this. You just hold me tighter here at the waist and now, you just step out however feels good to you."

He shifted his arm and tucked my body in against his. I found myself in close and I was face first in his shoulder. When he started moving, I felt the might of his body and swallowed hard at how it felt. He really is a solid man and he seemed so much more imposing than Terry ever had.

"Is this right? I fear you have a poor pupil in me. Since nothing in any dance would ever feel that good to me, it may very well be impossible for me to understand what you mean, Ann."

"Oh, Max, really? You can't tell the difference? This doesn't feel ..." I stopped in mid thought as I realized ... this felt much too good. He had really taken over leading me in the steps. He had been so stiff at first but in that moment, he seemed to catch on fire. He smelled so good.

And maybe that's when we first both heard the lyrics of the song we were dancing to.

Sexual Healing, oh baby
Makes me feel so fine
Helps to relieve my mind
Sexual Healing baby, is good for me
Sexual Healing is something that's good for me

I heard him clear his throat and I felt my face blush. This seemed a wholly inappropriate song to be dancing with Max. Especially when it felt like we were moving together just a bit too well. And then it got worse when suddenly Marvin started that panted chanting:

Get up, Get up, Get up, Get up, let's make love tonight
Wake up, Wake up, Wake up, Wake up, 'cos you do it right

Our eyes met and just that quickly, we looked away from each other. But he didn't release me. Instead, I felt him lean his cheek in against my temple ... we just danced. I knew that to anyone else watching us, it wasn't anything more than a dance. But for me? And for Max? It was an experience that unnerved us both, I think. Not that it didn't feel nice. Not that I felt ashamed. I mean, we were surrounded by family and we weren't doing anything untoward. We weren't writhing up on each other, unlike an unnamed couple, and we weren't making spectacles of ourselves, unlike an unnamed couple. We were just dancing.

Come take control, just grab a hold
Of my body and mind soon we'll be making it
Honey, oh we're feeling fine
You're my medicine open up and let me in

But it was more than that. It was these few minutes of allowing ourselves to not be frightened by the pull even while we enjoyed the way it made us feel something really breathtaking with each other.

He asked me how he was doing. I said something like, "Oh, just fine, Max. Really." And then he asked if he should hold me tighter. I said something like, "Okay. Maybe so."

The instant I felt his grip on me tighten ...  his strong arm flexing, his big hand plastered rudely at my hip ... my mind flashed on his movie. That compelling image of him on the battlefield. Wild. Raw. Aggressive. Relentless. Raging. Pure man without rival. And this thought came unbidden into me ... what in God's name was he like sexually? It was like he'd planted that thought in my head ... like he'd spoken it aloud to me ... but maybe it was really only that moving there on that dance floor with him, it was like he was showing me that behind that controlled exterior he presented to the world, his body was capable of unimaginable, barbaric things to bring a woman pleasure. It was scary as all fuck to imagine what he'd unleash on you in bed but ... my God, what a turn on.

Sexual Healing, oh baby
Makes me feel so fine
Helps to relieve my mind
Sexual Healing baby, is good for me
Sexual Healing is something that's good for me

Marvin riffed out the rest of the song and I felt embarrassed by my thoughts. I'd never allowed myself to dwell on thinking things about him that I would have been ashamed for anyone else to know. And, really, what nonsense was this? The day I couldn't keep myself in line was the day I was really fucked up.

Fuck.

I cursed inside my head just as Marvin's whimpers echoed the end of the song and wondered why in God's name I was thinking like this? So fucking unlike me.

Before the next dance could start, we just stood there trying to back away from each other ... and then Terry's voice cut in, asking Max if he might have the next dance with me.

Terry. Pure grace. Spinning me away and making a joke with me, asking me if Max had unleashed hell on my toes. I giggled like I should have. We flirted with each other. We agreed that as soon as Jack and Isobel left the reception, we were history. He wanted to take me to this little bed and breakfast he happened to know where we might be alone. We were both in agreement ... a few days with his entire clan was not quite the easy vacation we might have needed.

We were standing with Heather and Dino for the final toast to the happy bride and groom. And when the wedding couple fled out with a shower of good wishes, it took us maybe ten minutes to say our good-byes and I remember my last words to Heather were that we'd be back in DC in a few days and maybe we could get together.

But sometimes life just can be such a bitch.