[ February 5, 2004 ]

ANN

Berlin can be a brutal place to do my job. We citizens of the U.S. are always so certain that our ways of political discourse will be appreciated in other major countries. We are such fools to think that way.

Power of the press? Freedom of the press? Give me a break.

Not in a place like this. And not, most certainly not, when leaders of various countries are converging in one spot for what's billed as an economic summit but which in actuality is nothing more than a damned impressive series of press conferences.

I was stumbling away from the latest press briefing at which I had just found out yet again how incredibly rude it can be to be a member of U.S. media at a 'let's bash the USA' piece of shit summit.

Well, not that we were the only ones being bashed here in the name of European superiority. Snobs.

Sorry. I'm not supposed to feel that way ... and truth be told, I don't. I only give myself liberty to be bitchy about this kind of thing when I've just been jerked around for the millionth time as the hookers in charge of coordinating media credentialing don't want to honor my credentials that should get me into a spot where I can actually stand a hope of having a question answered rather than listening to my airhead colleagues from the networks ask ...

"What the fuck? Why the fuck aren't you watching where you're going?" I muttered, hoping whoever the fuck's big arm had just crashed into mine as I was heading into my hotel heard me but pretending I was saying it low enough this German asshole wouldn't hear me or understand me.

"Ann?"

I blinked and looked up at that proper voice. "Max! God! I cannot believe it!"

I felt instantly happy. Why was that? Just seeing a familiar face that wasn't American but still liked me ... still could smile at me with those warm eyes and make me feel I wasn't so far from home after all.

We stood there laughing ... both just the least bit embarrassed, I think. I was embarrassed because it had been proper Maximus I'd just cussed out and he was embarrassed, I imagine, because he'd made me cuss.

But almost at the same time, we stepped away from each other and I knew then that Maximus had the same thought racing right through his head as I was having in mine.

That little voice inside that was shouting: 'danger danger danger!' The one that reminded me that while I'd once blithely ignored that old 'pull' crap, I could no longer take any chances. Hadn't I rather learned that at the wedding?

"Max, I just cannot believe you're here and I have run into you! What a coincidence to find you in Berlin and at the same hotel ..." I said as I moved a very respectable distance away and gathered my coat around me.

He looked off over my head, stammered once, then said, "It is not really such a coincidence that we have seen each other, Ann. I saw your name on a security report this morning and knew you were here covering this event for your magazine. I had a few hours free and thought to come determine how you found yourself situated."

"You're checking up on me, Max?" I teased him.

He had this little blush on his cheeks as he looked into my eyes. "I was merely checking to be sure you were safe. There are some concerns about security issues for this summit."

"Which is why you're here, I assume? Helping with the security for the British delegation, I mean. I didn't mean that you were here just to be my personal bodyguard." Laughing just a bit, hoping we'd be able to keep this up.

He gave me this little nod and I thanked him for worrying about me. I told him Terry would be touched that his elder brother had cared that much. And then I told him that I was meeting the magazine's photographer for lunch in the hotel ... would he please join us?

It's how we ended up a few minutes later seated across from each other inside the hotel restaurant. I spent the first ten minutes waiting for Leo by telling Max my theory that the worst place to eat while in a foreign country was in a hotel restaurant. He proceeded to explain to me about why hotel restaurants were a preferred and safe place for a woman traveling alone.

"I try not to worry too much about crime," I said to him and his eyebrows shot up while he gave me this 'tsk' noise that made me giggle at his serious face. "I mean, I have lived in cities where one must have a constant awareness of crime so it's not like I am not safe. It's just that I am willing to take necessary risks. The alternative is far more bleak. Imagine trying to do this job from a hotel room? Doesn't work, Max."

Another little 'tsk' from him. "A woman traveling alone is a target. I am surprised Terry allows you to continue to pursue this line of employment."

"Max, you don't want to go there. We don't want to fight, do we?"

"I merely stated that ..."

"You merely passed judgment on me and Terry. We don't need that."

He gave me this short nod and we sat there, both fidgeting. I kept looking for Leo to walk through the door and save me. The longer I was sitting there at that table with Max, the less I was able to not feel how good it felt to be near him. It was wrong so I fought it.

"Terry doesn't allow anything," I said softly into the space around us.

His eyes studied me. His fingers stroked the silverware and I got this involuntary curiosity about what those fingers would feel like on my skin. I did this mental shake and willed those thoughts out of my mind.

"I meant, Terry is not my boss. He's my husband. It's not his place to grant me permission to do a job I love. It's just the way things are. And I wouldn't dream of telling him what to do or not do on his job. We are who we are," I told Max.

"Indeed. And you believe this is working?" He said it deep and husky. A challenge.

My instant reaction was to bridle at his remark and my mouth opened to tell him off for his hopelessly archaic chauvinistic attitude. The words were already formed ... the ones that would tell him that while it might have been okay with his wife for him to dictate to her, that I was not like that ... that I was a woman with her own place in life and that I was never going to be dictated to by a man ... but ... isn't it odd that I would find myself actually telling him something else?

"No, it's not working very well."

We both heard it. The sadness there. The defeat. His hand reached across and he touched my fingers. "I did not mean to upset you. Forgive me, Ann. Perhaps we should not speak of something so personal. I am sure this is a matter best left between husband and wife."

That touch. Like fire on a trail of gunpowder. I grabbed my hand back and yanked my cell phone out. I hit the speed dial to Leo's number and then his voice was telling me that he'd had to go out to get pictures of that day's ruckus orchestrated by one of the eco-terrorist groups that targeted events like this. I sighed into the phone and told him to be sure to meet me by 2:30 so we could get to the interview session we had finally, after incredible finagling, gotten permission to attend.

"Sorry, Max. Business, you know?" I said. I motioned the waiter over, told him our companion wasn't joining us after all, and we ordered lunch. Then we fidgeted a bit.

Then I came up with the perfect thing. I started asking Max questions. Pretended it was an interview. Switched easily into that role that gave me professional distance. And he put up his veil of caution that must have been ingrained in what he did.

But then food arrived and we seemed to relax a bit. I found myself inquiring after Lily and Max told me of her latest escapades. I loved the way his eyes looked when he spoke of his daughter. I did the polite thing and asked after Uma. He seemed amused by my tone of voice but he was the proper husband and told me how wonderful she was.

I don't know why I asked it. Maybe I was bored. Maybe I just thought this is what people asked about more traditional wives of their traditional husbands. "Any plans for more children?"

Damn. The look he gave me. Like I'd just hit a steel wall there and he was not pleased at what he must have considered a low-class question.

I felt myself blushing under his scrutiny. "Sorry, Max. I didn't mean that to sound so nosy. I just thought I'd overheard Uma saying ..."

"Yes? Saying what?"

"At the wedding. I thought ... Never mind. I just thought I'd heard that you were hoping for more children and ... God. I'm sorry. That was incredibly rude of me. I didn't mean to pry."

"I would wish for nothing more than a son. However, a man must not push his wife in such matters more than to let her know his wishes. As I imagine it must be for you and your husband."

My eyes narrowed at him. I don't know what it was but something in that little passage was like a rebuke. Or maybe I was just really reading into it? "Terry gets all he wants out of our marriage, Max. If he wanted more, he'd let me know."

And somehow? Dammit, but how could we be talking about sex and love and ... How could we? This was so wrong. This conversation was getting me in trouble in so many ways that would not have been obvious. I searched around for some non-sexual subject and all I could segue into was a discussion on how Jack was doing.

That didn't work either. As we talked on Jack, Max grew antsy. His hand rubbed at his face and his eyes kept darting around the room. Like he was anxious. But when I asked, he said it was nothing.

"Do you still enjoy your job?" I asked him, searching again for a proper subject.

He sat up straighter, if that was possible, while he told me that he found his role to be suiting to him. And some rush came over me as his eyes delved into mine as he told me that he felt good to be contributing on a mission such as this. What was wrong with me? All I could imagine in that moment was what he looked like nude. Where had that thought come from?

The fucking goddamned 'pull'. Oh man. How I fucking hated this clan. So I shrugged it off and asked him if he liked his lunch.

Lord. The words were out of my mouth and I might have been drooling. His lips had just closed over the forkful of steak he'd ordered ... the fork was between his lips and I knew what those lips would have felt like. When he swallowed, I had to sit on my hand not to reach over to touch his throat.

I looked down at my plate ... grabbed for the ice water and drank like I was just in from a desert walkaround. Somewhere in the recesses of my awareness, Max was telling me the food was certainly to his liking. I think I even heard him make some reference to Germania and I was suddenly blinking and realizing that I probably had to understand the inside reference. It came to me in a flash and I smiled, saying just one word: "Gladiator."

We grinned at each other, like loons. Why, that hadn't been funny at all. God, this was making me so nervous. After pushing my food around the plate for a respectable bit of time, I excused myself and went to the restroom. Called Terry. Hadn't been with him in over a week. I was going to be seeing him the next evening.

He wasn't in the office, Susie said. I asked her to have him call me when he got in. Then thought better of it and called his cell. God, he sounded good. I heard the whine in my voice as I told him I missed him. I didn't dare tell him the truth ... that in that one moment of hearing his voice and not being with him, I wanted nothing more than to crawl up inside him and not be out here in this cold world hating this new assignment.

"What was that sigh for?" he asked me.

I listened to the sounds of him driving before I answered. The muted outside noises that sounded like whushes of wind ... the soft jazz melody playing on his radio ... his breathing. "Nothing. I just can't wait to see you tomorrow. I need you."

"Good. That's how I like my woman ... horny and needing me."

"Then you'll like me a lot."

"So ... tomorrow night, hey? What'll you wear for me, Annie? Gonna make it a challenge for me to get at you or you gonna make it easy?"

"Take your pick, bebe. Easy or hard?"

"How about I be hard and you be easy?"

"And that would be different than normal how, exactly?" 

We both giggled. Wondered if he was thinking about the last mad time we'd had together.

"Hey, baby, I gotta go. Meeting I'm late for. Can't wait to touch you tomorrow, Annie girl. Be safe for me until I'm holding you, hear?"

"I'm being safe. In fact, you can take your brother's word for it." I paused and looked in the mirror and saw the smile was back on my face. Just talking to Terry ... things seemed better. "Yeah. Max is here working security for the British delegation, saw my name on some clearance roster and decided he should come check to make sure I was staying some place safe. He's just given me a lecture about how dangerous this city is and how I have to worry more about my security. Blah blah. He's a barrel of laughs."

He didn't say anything at first and then his voice came back a little distracted. "Yeah? Max did that? Decent of him, hey? Maybe he'll get you to listen to him. You sure as shit have a tough time listening to me. I'll have to thank him."

"Actually ... seriously, Terry. It was nice of him, wasn't it? Sometimes I forget that we're part of such a large family." It was like all of a sudden, I saw this clearer. This wasn't at all about the 'pull'. This was really just Max being the patriarch and being a man in the best sense of the word. "And I do so listen to you on these kinds of things. I've even gotten to enjoying that you worry about me. Just don't worry about me, okay?"

His warm chuckle in my ear. A running joke between us.

I walked out of there feeling like I'd just taken a short hop across to London ... I felt Terry with me, all around me. I couldn't wait to see him. We had a special weekend coming up.

When I was back with Max, I mentioned being in London over the next few days ... it was almost out of my mouth to suggest that the four of us get together while we'd all be there on the same days. And then I pictured having to share lunch or dinner with Uma ... or heaven forbid, having to spend an evening at their home. I could fake it around her, but not quite that well to be in that kind of a situation. He might have had the same thought process ... we both seemed about to open our mouths, then shut them firmly. I was tickled by that notion ... that Max recognized that getting Uma and me to share any kind of sedate, happy meeting was really pushing our luck.

As we parted, I shook Max's hand. It felt odd to do it; normally, I would never have hesitated to hug a family member or good friend. But in this case? It seemed far more prudent to touch in a smart, controlled manner.

"Well, thanks for this, Max. It made me feel valued that you'd come make sure I was okay. And give Uma my love, okay?"

He lowered his eyes and this smile tugged at his lips.

"Okay, well, perhaps that's stretching it. But, do have a safe trip home, Max."

"You may call me at any time while you are here if you have need of me, Ann," he said, with this little tilt to his head that made him look so noble.

That afternoon, I met Leo for the interview I'd finagled with a French minister of the economic development agency that was making such hay over some arcane import rule interpretation by our own Commerce Department. Anything to give the US government a black eye in the current political landscape, right? And I was bitching to Leo when we left about these canned interviews that made me feel like all I ever did anymore was flack work. So Leo asked why I'd paid no attention to the chaos instigated by the eco-terrorists who were haunting this summit with nasty demonstrations. You'd get rawer stuff there, he said. But not any more useful, I replied, as it's all just so much the same every time. Besides, I said, they are there on purpose just to gain media exposure. So they wave signs and throw cow patties at delegates; how's that add to the understanding of the issues? That's not a very open attitude for someone doing what you do, Leo retorted. I looked at him and realized ... he thought I was missing something I needed to cover but he could read my mood well enough to know that I didn't want to hear that from him. Is there something about their perspective that I am overlooking, I asked him. He gave me a grin.

Leo had a contact he'd made that afternoon; we scrambled that night for an interview with the leader of one of the eco-terrorist groups. It was interesting; I wasn't sure how the hell I'd use it. Maybe that's why I let the guy drone on and on about his issue. Or maybe I felt like I might hear something unique because he said several times that I was the only US journalist who'd seemed that interested. Or maybe I was just trying to fill the empty hours left for me in Berlin. I walked away from there with one usable quote but with a feeling I'd met someone with passion.

It made me think about passion ... in my personal life and in my professional life.  I'd lost the passion for my career that I'd once had. Was it only because of this assignment? Or was it that I'd come to feel the career was not my life anymore? I'd once not had passion in my personal life; now, passion was all around me. It was because of Terry. He'd brought passion back to me. He'd stepped it up several notches. He'd changed everything I'd ever thought was important to me.

By 10 a.m. the next day, I'd filed all the stories I had on my agenda from the assignment desk. I was packed and had already arranged for transportation to the airport. I had only two hours before I was supposed to leave. In my mind, I was already kissing Terry. I was daydreaming about a life where nothing existed but me and him together. He'd promised me three uninterrupted days of just him. I just knew he was planning romance. I was all primed to be swept off my feet as we worked into our hectic work schedules a celebration of a special occasion.

And then Leo called and told me to check the wire. Something had flashed across about the last demonstration of the eco-terrorists at the summit. Things had turned ugly; they'd been edgier and nastier in the days preceding the end of the summit, but they'd not flared into outright danger and violence before. But this day when the only thing left was the pomp of a closing reception, they had. Maybe it had been a last-ditch effort to get media attention that had made someone set off an incendiary devise. Or maybe it had been an empty threat made good on only when the military troops providing blanket security for the conference site got antsy and over-zealous.

Who knew at that moment? Certainly not us. But whatever had happened, all hell was breaking loose not five blocks from us.

Hard news.

Not my assignment.

Not my responsibility.

But an opportunity had just fallen right in my lap.

The chances it would even pan out as something my magazine would run ... not much. This was really the kind of thing a wire service or daily would run. This was breaking news. Deadlines of minutes, not days. Act immediately or lose the moment. You find the angle no one else has, and you scoop the fuck out of everyone else, and the world of news is at your feet ... you are golden, you are hot, you got an ace up your sleeve, you got proof that you are the real deal. I saw the answer to all my problems.

I never even hesitated. I made one phone call to a number I'd written down in my notepad the night before and I knew then that I had what I needed. I was out the door, meeting Leo on the street where he'd already flagged down a taxi and we were on our way just that quick to an exclusive that couldn't have come at a better time.

It was on the drive over there ... one of those adrenalin-producing romps with a taxi driver who'd picked up the scent of our own excitement ... that I let myself really think about why I was doing this. It was more than just that I'd been born with the abject desire to cover breaking news.

This could be my ticket to a daily in DC. Or to the wire service, which based lots of their people in DC. This could be it, I thought with this electrical thrill that raced through every cell in my body. The one thing I needed that could prove that I still had it ... still could hack it in the world of hard-pressed deadlines and real news.

And ten minutes later, all that remained for me was that lust for the story. This knowledge that this could be THE one.

An hour later, I looked at my watch and realized ... my plane was probably boarding. And I thought of Terry ... so I called him as we were waiting on the corner near where I'd just concluded an interview with the bloodied eco-terrorist I'd first met the night before. Leo and I were waiting because someone had called while we'd been inside the warehouse where I'd been grilling this guy on what he hoped to gain by that morning's bloodshed ... the caller had said that the government's anti-terrorism unit was on their way. Such a surreal experience. Standing there knowing we were about to witness arrests of people who'd just trusted us with access to their heart and soul.

Susie answered the phone at the office and told me Terry was in a meeting. I asked her to get him out of it if it was at all possible. While I was on hold, I arranged the words I'd tell him. I pictured him in his office. Crisp and clean and cultured. His office a reflection of him.

His voice was in my ear and I couldn't help the way it made me feel better. Caught Leo's eye. Leo had such a crush on Terry. Kept telling me he wished Terry had a brother ... I didn't dare tell him!

"Yeah, love?"

God. The way he says that to me when he answers the phone if he knows it's me. Like he just wants to hear me talk.

"Something has happened. I was about to leave for the airport but ... An eco-terrorism demonstration outside the summit's closing reception turned bad. Some arrests are about to happen ...there's been some loss of life ... things are still sketchy ..."

"Don't take any chances ... have the hotel arrange the taxi ... leave now, Ann. No larking about, hear? Just get to the airport and do it now before all hell breaks loose."

"No, you don't understand. I'm here ... I'm covering this ... Terry, this is an important story and I've got a bit of an exclusive on this that I need to see through."

He didn't say anything at first. I realized he was waiting on me to spell it out.

"I am the only reporter here who has this access to one of the eco-terrorist leaders in question. I have to get this story. I'll be filing it for the wire service. AP. It's a pretty big deal. I don't know when I'll be able to leave Berlin now, Terry. Hopefully tomorrow. But this is big. Really. Or I wouldn't dream of doing this to us."

"You know best."

"Terry." My heart thudded at his tone. This curt edge. But my focus on him was diverted when I heard the noise. That curious sound of dull rolling thuds on pavement. Personnel carriers. I peered around the edge of the building as Leo motioned. They were coming. It was about to happen. My mind was only half on Terry. "I'm sorry. You know I am. You know I wanted to be there. But this is too big. I have to do this. I just ... This is the kind of story that can do big things for me."

"Yeah, I understand...can't be helped. I'll call you later."

"No, Terry. Jesus. Listen, okay? Don't just dismiss me," I said it fast. Leo was already edging his way around the building, his camera lens focusing on action I needed to witness. Shit! "Fuck, I gotta go, Terry. Trust me that I wouldn't do this if it wasn't important."

"Yeah..."

"I will get to London as soon as I can." Two SWAT-type vehicles yanked to a stop before the apartment building where the man I'd interviewed only minutes before was in. This was about to kick into overdrive right before my eyes. "I have to go. I promise I'll be safe. I love you, Terry."

"Yeah... And you...always..."

Over the next few hours, time swirled. The arrest was clean. I was the first one who had it. It was only later, sometime past midnight, that I reflected on this ... Terry had never said 'I love you.' I dismissed the way that made me uneasy; I figured he must have been in a meeting and deemed it unprofessional to have said those words to me.

I figured wrong. But it's not the only thing I got wrong.

[ February 11, 2004 ]

ANN

I actually didn't get to London until the next Wednesday. But in exchange for breaking this angle to the story, which not only did the AP wire eat up but the magazine thought the analysis it infused was like pure gold, I was granted from Wednesday afternoon until Monday morning off.

It was Valentine's weekend. More than that, the day I arrived in London was our second wedding anniversary. We'd planned on celebrating the anniversary the weekend before. How much better could it be that while it had been a real bitch to not see each other that prior weekend because of the breaking story, in exchange, we were actually seeing each other on the real anniversary date?

On the surface, things seemed like they were just falling right into place. It took me a little while to catch that this wasn't the case. It wasn't that I was blasé; it was more that I was blind.

When I got in, I went to his office to meet him. He was on a conference call, so Susie let me use one of the offices to get a bit of work done. An hour later, he came into that office and we were so polite to each other. We politely avoided discussing the reason I hadn't gotten in to see him the weekend before. I'd sent Terry the online links to the stories that ran across the wire and in some dailies. When he'd been snippy and dismissive about them, I didn't share with him the kudos I'd gotten and the heady feeling they had given me.

Riding up in the elevator at the hotel, I looked at his reflection in the far wall. I let myself imagine the day that I hoped was coming soon ... the day I'd see a smile on his face that would reach his eyes ... the day I'd be able to say 'I've done it, Terry! I've got a new job and I'll be home in DC whenever you are!'

It'd be soon, too. I had already sent the clips from that weekend's coverage to the editors I knew at the dailies, and this time, they had been eager to hear from me. I figured it was only a matter of weeks and I'd have done it. I'd have found the compromise between his desires and my dreams. I'd have found a compromise that would make us both happy and would eliminate one of the biggest sources of friction between us. It was no longer about me feeling like I was giving in ... it had become more about me seeing what was important to us.

I just stood there in that elevator, nestled up next to him, watching his tight face in the reflection of the polished wall, and knew what his smile would look like when that day came.

Inside his hotel room, we continued being polite to each other. We did a polite recitation about work. He politely brought me news about Heather and Dino. We politely agreed the weather in both London and Berlin sucked. We politely decided that in light of that, staying in for room service instead of an elegant celebration dinner out was better.

There was something about how his eyes avoided mine when I agreed to just stay in. I asked him if I'd just ruined special plans he'd made. He hadn't bothered to make big plans this night, he said, because he thought it best to wait until he was sure I'd actually show up this time. He seemed to instantly regret his words when I took a step back from him; he hid himself back behind his polite demeanor by asking me if I'd like a drink.

I turned to the window and looked out on a blustery evening's remnants that blew across artificial city lights in the night. I had this instant infusion of a warm moment in which I'd crossed the threshold to our honeymoon cabana and knew I was about to make love to my husband for the first time. The feeling of that moment's immensity washed over me as I saw his reflection in the window. The way he was walking toward me and what a man he was. What a man he always was for me. Our eyes met in the reflection.

"This is such a far cry from where we were two years ago at this very moment," I said.

Something happened. Our eyes held each other in the reflection. It was like he stepped into my memory with me and felt the same thing I was feeling. The way people so close can just share joint memories with such ease that it takes nothing to feel them take you both over.

"Something about how you looked on that beach, dancing with me. Never saw anyone more beautiful," he said in this hushed voice.

I felt the blush creep up me as the recent past melted away. "I couldn't believe I was lucky enough to have a man like you love me that much."

Our smiles reflected back at each other. On the verge of shy. How was that possible that after two years of marriage, we'd be shy with each other? Somehow, it charmed me utterly. I felt a lightness of spirit and a memory of light.

He put the glasses down and gave my reflection this look that turned me to pure emotional response. I turned to him and he opened his arms to me at the same instant I was moving toward his body. For so long, we held each other. I asked him later what was going on in his mind and he said that he had been remembering the way my body had felt next to his that long-ago night. The touch of raw silk on hot skin.

My lips found their way onto his chest. The cotton of his proper shirt felt soft and plush. I told him I'd just gotten lipstick there. He said that must mean it was time to take the shirt off.

"Hey! I thought you meant your shirt," I giggled at him and swatted his hands that were unbuttoning mine.

"Hold still, woman. Your man wants to see you," he said. Man oh man. That whisky rough voice of his did it for me every time. I made it hard for him to undress me. He had to work around my fevered attempts to kiss him into submission as I shoved him backwards toward the bed. Not that he really minded no matter how he grumbled at me. When he had me nude, his hand along my jaw held my head steady so his tongue could dive right into my open mouth.

Only then did he remove his shirt. He asked me to wear it. While I put it on and rolled up the sleeves, he wandered over to pick up his glass of scotch. He leaned against the desk there in the outer room of the suite and watched me as I shook my hair loose.

"You are so fucking sexy. I remember the first time you wore my shirt. I nearly fucked you to death you looked so good."

He made me feel his need to connect with me this night. "So that's why. I thought you just got off on Chinese food."

"Come here. Let me demonstrate what I get off on. Give you another lesson."

His hands snuck in around my waist, opening the shirt ... his head tilted to the side to watch as my breasts came into view. Something about the look in his eyes ... I couldn't hold back. Please just love me to death and back, I whispered to him. His eyes darted up to mine ... reading me in that serious way of his. And I just knew he'd understand that I needed to be indulged in a bit of madness sex. The kind of loving between a man and a woman that is driven and hot and needy and hard ... and rough enough to make you walk funny after.

Show me you're still wild for me, I told him.

Show me you're still weak for me, he told me.

I was shaking by the time he bent me over the desk. His mouth never left my ear, telling me in lurid detail how I looked, smelled, felt, sounded. I never helped him with his slacks. I enjoyed too much the way my wetness increased to feel him struggling behind me as he leaned in against me while his hands worked the snap and the zip and freed himself. The cotton of his shirt encased me and made me feel swallowed up in him. It was also this rough barrier between his hardness and my thighs as he undulated against me. I felt his fingers gliding beneath the shirttails and then up the back of my thighs. I trembled from the prickly ticklish sensation that seemed to alert every cell in my body that I was with a MAN intent on me. His breath was hot against my jaw. His lips moved against my lobe. His tongue snuck out to lick where it could reach. He mumbled to me as his teeth lightly tugged on my lobe.

I was arched up against him and wiggling for closure. His knee between my thighs prodded my legs apart just as his hands pushed the shirt up over my cheeks. I held my breath as his hands smoothed down my rump, caressing me there as he groaned in need. Then one hand cupped my sex while the other yanked my hips higher.

This is the moment he shut up. And probably only because he shoved his mouth in hard over the side of my neck and bit down as he placed his cock at my entrance. I pushed my hips back just as he pumped in. The force of impact took my breath away. It made him grunt with heavy satisfaction.

I looked in the window before me as I slowly sunk down to my elbows atop the desk. I could see us slowly moving ... we were two light silhouettes in bas-relief to the darkness of the room behind us. My hand reached toward the window, my fingers stretching hopelessly to touch those mirror images that were several feet away from the real us. His eyes caught the movement and he looked up.

"If someone were looking in..." he whispered hoarsely against my ear. I shivered at his voice. "Christ. Look at you."

My breasts were swaying to his thrusts. My neck was arched back against his shoulder as he covered me. I turned my head to hunt for his mouth. His eyes stayed glued to the window; mine shut; we kissed obscenely ... tongues out before disappearing inside our mouths ... wet ... the faint taste of good scotch in his mouth ... panting nonsense moans as we'd part for milliseconds before diving back into each other. Finally getting this nasty rhythm down as he pumped and I responded to meet him.

But minutes later, in this moment of raw release, he shoved me higher on the desk ... lifted my hips, stood to his full height and just began thrusting as he let out these insanely delicious soft grunts each time he hilted. I gripped hard onto the edge of the desk as my feet left the ground ... this frightful moment of wondering if he'd maintained enough control to keep from fucking me so hard I'd just shoot off and over the other side of the desk ... but then ... he slowed ... holding back because he wanted me to really feel our joining ... until I was crying these shuddering tears that caught me by total surprise.

"Oh sweet baby that's right ..." he cooed to me, all smoke and darkness and riveting pure male protector watching over me at my most vulnerable.

"Terry ..." Breathless as he leaned over me, cradling me in a grip so tender that he devastated my ability to even think much less decide. "Help me."

"I'm here. That's right. I've got you ... Come on, baby. That's it ... Come just for me." Fingers suddenly on my clit. This light, barely there touch ... a feather that sent electric currents jolting through me.

I felt it starting. That real coming. Not the pre-coming or the after shocks. No. This was that bone marrow-deep, rolling possession of your body that makes you think you will not survive anything so exquisite. Where you might even have this momentary thought ... life was invented just for this moment of shared pleasure ... and this was when you realized you were coming together. That's what this was. We were coming right with each other, in this rare way that we couldn't have told where his started and mine ended. Where we just went with it.

In this way that made our reflections in the window lose track of us. 

"You have the book with you?" I mumbled into the pillow.

"Mmm. You know the answer to that." His voice heavy with après-sex laziness. He nestled into me more, his arm across my back and his leg across my thighs. Lips against my neck and I knew he was tasting salty sensations of me.

"I thought you might like some additions."

He rose up on an elbow, looked down at me. Stroked hair out of my face and prodded me to turn over onto my back. Gave me this smile ... his cocky smile that didn't fail to hide his hope. "You wrote more memories?"

I turned into his chest and kissed at his nipples ... hiding my face. Finally, whispering, "You didn't think I'd forget the tradition, did you?"

"No, not you." I looked up into his eyes. Warm. Soft. Involved with me. "Can I read them?"

"Absolutely." I hopped out of bed and dove into my carryon. Pulled out this small box. Inside were seven small scrolls. Each was finely bound in intricate gatherings ... ribbons of various materials that would make sense to him only later; each ribbon decorated with beads or sequins. Marbleized paper that when unwound, would fit perfectly inside the book of poems I'd given him on the first anniversary of the day we met.

Inside that book, I'd tucked sheets with little stories of our mundane yet so very special moments of our life together. Memories. He brought that book with him on each trip he took. He told me that it was better than photos for how it could make him feel he was reliving a special moment with me.

After that, I'd taken to writing one memory each month. Then I would present them to him twice a year ... on the two anniversaries we always tried to celebrate ... the day we met and the day we married.

I'd taken to trying to find a unique way to present them to him each time. The first time, I'd just left them flat inside this small wooden stationary box. The next time, I'd hidden them around our home because he'd happened to be home that time. And then this time ... the little scrolls were nestled in a green box.

"Baby ..." he whispered as he opened the lid. His eyes at me for a flicker. "Green. Your color. Good choice. I'll put the box in my office here. Think of you each time I touch it."

"You are such a sentimental sop. I love it!"

He tried to look stern, like he was giving me this warning. But he was too eager to really look inside the box. His index finger stroked the rolls. "I'm not going to read them now."

"No?" I was disappointed. He'd always wanted to before.

"Nah. This time, I'm going to savor them. I'll wait until you're gone. Read them one at a time. Figure out the perfect spot in the book to put each one."

I think I was cooing at him when I dove into his arms and let him hug me into him. We made love noises at each other. He rolled over and put the box on the nightstand for safekeeping. We cuddled. He said we should go out and celebrate after all. I wanted to stay snug in bed. But he yanked me out from the covers, carried me into the shower and turned on the jets while I yelped at him. He said he'd join me once he'd made reservations for some special place he had in mind to take me.

He was humming when he finally made it to the shower with me. I tried to cajole him into telling me what he had in mind. But I didn't really try too hard ... I happen to adore when Terry wants to surprise me with something and would hate to spoil it. As I was trying to get dressed, I asked him to give me a clue as to what to wear. The most he would tell me was that we would go someplace funky casual. I said, gee, has the thrill gone out of our marriage for you?, because I'd had the impression he'd wanted to take me to some swanky place that night for dinner. He'd yanked me down over his lap, gave me a rude paddle as punishment for my sass, and told me to get dressed. So I dressed funky chic in leather pants and a sedate black sweater. He was in jeans. God. He looks good in jeans. He complimented my black sweater. Said it was a classic ... I said, unlike me ... he said, you're unique. And you're so fucking sexy in that outfit that I'll have to keep you close all night, he said. That was rather the point, I replied.

On the way down in the elevator, he said, what's nice about a classic sweater like that is that you could wear any kind of jewelry from pearls to paste to rhinestones to diamonds ...

"Or this," he said as he dipped his hand in his coat's inside pocket. He grabbed my wrist and ... voila! ... magically ... I looked at my wrist and couldn't find the words ... he loved doing that to me ... he loved leaving me breathless and wordless.

Just before the doors opened with a whoosh, he pushed me against the wall and kissed me. Hard. Deep. Wet. Someone applauded and he pulled me out of the elevator into the lobby as I blushed at the people shoving past us to get in. Then I was looking at my wrist as he was trying to help me on with my coat.

What he'd slipped onto my wrist was an exquisite bracelet of gold interspersed tastefully with small emeralds and a smattering of diamonds.

"Terry! What have you done?"

I finally yanked my coat from his hands and just stood there looking at the bracelet. Crying. He hugged me into him and let me hide. "Happy anniversary, Annie girl. I love you so."

"You shouldn't do things like this." He let me go and I looked up at him, a wide grin on my face. "But I sure am glad you're the kind of guy who does. I so love how you spoil me."

We spent the night wrapped up in each other. We haunted a few seedy jazz clubs that Terry had scouted out just to take me to. We dug the smoke. We dug the music. We dug each other.

We talked utter nonsense all night. Argued about which was better ... Louisiana oysters or Australian prawns. Discussed the higher meaning of chocolate and its role in civilization. Joked about which was worse ... him having to shave his beard or me having to shave my legs. Made a bet on the outcome of some cricket match between teams that held no meaning for either of us. Loser would shave the other one.

When we were walking out of this one club, he said something about staying up all night. How it had been a long time since we'd done that together. When we got to the corner, we looked up into the sky and could barely make out what we thought must surely be a star in the night.

"On our honeymoon, one thing I loved was being able to see the stars so clearly," he said.

"Yeah. Too bad we're not somewhere without all these city lights so we could dance under the stars like we did that night. And then think of seeing a sunrise together after being up all night like this? We should at least do that, Terry."

"Stay up for the sunrise, you mean, love?" he whispered against my neck. "I have an idea. Let's go someplace for breakfast and watch the sun come up."

Not thirty minutes later, he was strapping me into a helicopter that had been waiting atop his office building on the heliport pad. All he wanted to do was take my breath away; he was taking my spirit and setting it free. I couldn't stop smiling and I snuggled into him and listened to his voice over the headset telling me about the places we were flying over. And then city lights fell far away and it was mostly dark. By the eerie light of the moon, we traveled over hamlets and open spaces. I tried only half-heartedly to get him to tell me where we were going.

Lulled by this sense of utter safety in his arms and the way it felt to have him doing another of his grand gestures just for me, I was barely paying attention until he told me to look out the window. There before me, white cliffs shown like ghostly sentinels.

Dover.

The copter landed as dawn sent its first weak tendrils of murky light across the sky. By the time we were out on the ground, Terry taking my hand in his to walk me the rather short distance to the edge ... the sun was rising before me. He stood behind me, his arms wrapped around me, his mouth at my ear ... telling me he loved every moment we'd ever spent together in the two years we'd been married.

Making me cry.

Making me pledge to myself that in two more years, he'd be telling me he loved both the quality and the quantity of the time we shared together.

Not too long after sharing the sunrise and sharing a kiss that probably made the sun ashamed to think it was hot enough to compete with Terry, a hired car appeared to take us to this bed and breakfast just outside of Dover. There we had breakfast in the dining room and then promptly shut the world away after shutting the door to our bedroom.

He made sweet, slow love to me. We whispered to each other until my voice rose to herald his mastery over my body. He'd just made some wisecrack about us getting old because we were both yawning even as aftershocks were shifting through me. Next thing I knew, I was waking up and it was past noon.

I sat against the headboard and held him in my arms as he slept. When he woke, we simply touched wherever our fingers happened to be. I told him this was a memory I might never feel I could do justice.

"Still happy you married me?" he asked me. I looked in his eyes and saw something cautious.

"Without any doubt, Terry. You do know how important you are to me?"

"We need more time like this." I froze. He saw it. He rolled away from me and just held my hand in his. Then brought it to his lips and lingered over the kiss. Lazy voice musing to me, "Marriage ... lot of work, hey?"

"Yeah. But worth it when it's this special." My tone worried.

No words from him. Just him tugging on my hand until I crawled down to let him gather me into his arms. His mouth on mine ... smiling into the kiss. Showing me with his own way that he agreed with that sentiment ... and that he wasn't going to take this into an argument.

He'd thought of everything for that weekend. Arranged for meals to be delivered so we didn't have to leave the room. Had a bag with toiletries and a change of clothes in case we really did want to leave the room for any reason (we never did). When we flew back to London three days later, I asked him how he'd made all these arrangements with that one phone call before we'd left to celebrate. He told me straight up, even though he knew it would make me feel bad. He had planned to spend the weekend before just like this; had all the arrangements ready and then had to cancel them when I'd called from Berlin to say I wasn't making it in. My heart ached for the disappointment I had caused him. He shook it off; said it had worked out better this way.

So this was life, wasn't it? You sometimes felt you were fitting it in with everything else but when you slowed down to concentrate, you saw, right? You saw what was real life and what was important to you. Didn't you? I have looked back on this moment and it seems to me that I was blind to the fact I missed something important even though I was trying to slow down to concentrate.

We had talked about anything and everything except the one thing we should have.

A web of misunderstandings. How banal. How devastating. How human.