"Can you manage?"

Annie looked around as she struggled with several bags full of groceries; that was the problem with apartment living - there were not enough supermarkets around this upscale area and she generally shopped at small delis and hideously expensive grocery stores, buying more than she could realistically carry.

"Amri! Actually, yes. I am in a bit of a bind here!" She offloaded a couple of brown paper bags to the young man and he walked along with her back to their block. Inside they entered the elevator and she tapped in the code for her apartment. "Come up for coffee. You deserve if after lugging all that lot!"

He said it was nothing, she did not have to bother, but accepted her invitation anyway. She led him to the kitchen and while she prepared a pot of coffee, he sat at the table and she put away the shopping. "The children. At school?" he asked.

"Yes, "Annie replied. "Thank goodness. Cooped up in here they're driving me mad!"

"Why do you live here?" Amri asked curiously. "It doesn't seem the ideal place for a family. A house further out would seem better. Do you have business in the city? Is your husband here?" Then he shook his head. "Forgive me, Mrs. Thorne. I should not be so inquisitive..."

Annie smiled. "It's OK. My husband's away at them moment...on business. Overseas. We thought it easier if we were in the centre of things, you know? To get to know the city..."

"Yes...there is a lot to do here. But not much for children, eh?"

"No. They find it tedious. Maybe we need to re-think?"

"For my part, I am glad to see children about. In my culture, it is normal to have little ones about you all the time..."

Annie frowned slightly. "Your culture? Where are you from, Amri?" She set a cup of strong coffee down before him and a small jug of cream. He added sugar and cream liberally.

"Great coffee. European style. Not like the watery coffee here, eh?" They both laughed. "I am from Iran originally. Well, my family is. I was never living there. We were supporters of the Shah - my father was a businessman. Since our exile, we have lived mostly in France. But I was educated in America and am with Goldman Sachs here. Investment banking? Venture capital?"

Annie grinned. "Don't know much about that except that it makes loads of money. Explains why you can afford this fortress. Do you need the security?"

Amri shrugged. "My father is cautious. He bought this apartment for our family. We still have some enemies in Iran, even after all this time. You cannot be too careful. And you? Why did you choose such a place?" he asked her directly.

"Er...my husband is away a lot. You hear such things about New York, you know? I guess he's just a bit over-anxious..."

Amri disagreed. "You can never be too careful. Especially of a beautiful wife and those precious children. I do not blame him at all!"

Annie blushed at the compliment. 

"I am sorry. I may have lived all my life among Europeans but I still retain my Arab nature. We tend to be very outspoken and inclined to flamboyant language. It is our passionate nature..."

"It's not a problem. A girl can use a bit of flattery every now and then!" 

Amri checked his watch. "I must go. I have an appointment in an hour. I just got back late last night from Europe and took a sleep in - but duty calls. The world of high finance can't manage without me, I'm afraid! Thank you for the coffee!"

"Thank you for the help. And the company. And the compliment!' she replied brightly. It had been good not to return to a lonely apartment again.

She walked him to the door and then he stopped and before she could react, had picked up her right hand and kissed it. "The pleasure was all mine, Mrs. Thorne."

Annie gasped and blushed again, rather enchanted by his old fashioned courtesy. "Anna. My name is Anna. Please, call me Anna...remember?"

"Amiruddin Al-Bakhti. At your service. Do not hesitate if you should need anything..." He offered her his business card and she accepted it tentatively before he nodded briskly and made his way to the elevator.

Closing the door, Annie wandered back to the kitchen tapping the card against her mouth, deep in thought. She was a little annoyed with herself and also a little perturbed. Amri was an Arab. Iranian. The thought had immediately bothered her. What an incredibly paranoid reaction. There were millions of Arabs and only a few terrorists - why do we immediately feel concern when we come into contact with a Muslim overseas? There was no reason to think that Amri was anything but what he said...

But coincidence is rare. Terry always told her that. When things just work out a bit too easily then sometimes you have to stop and look again. They had met originally in the gym down stairs and bumped into each other a few times around the foyer. Amri had introduced himself and said hi to the children but it had been just in passing. Or had it? Had he perhaps been waiting for a chance to speak to her and was trying to worm his way into her confidence? Was Terry's cover already suspect and under covert investigation by the people he was himself trying to infiltrate?

Should she do anything? Terry had told her to contact Dino if anything didn't jive. Even if it was nothing much. They could not afford to take things lightly. But. Amri was such a nice guy. Picking up the phone, Anna asked for the number for Goldman Sachs and was connected.

"Good morning. Is Amri Al - Bakhti in yet?"

"No, ma'am. He's out this morning. Can I take a message?"

Annie said no and hung up. She felt foolish. He was a banker with a rich Daddy - the very opposite of a terrorist - from a family who had probably suffered greatly at the hands of Islamic fundamentalists for years. Sophisticated, westernized, rich, urbane Persian upper class exiles. Not the recruiting ground for Al-Qaeda, she thought to herself ruefully and cursed her prejudice and fear. When had she joined the masses and their media-fueled paranoia and racism?

Terry left the embassy and breathed a sigh of relief. A week of pressing the flesh and cocktail parties with spoiled diplomats and self-important expatriates was wearing on his nerves. Still no real contact. But they were being watched. He knew how to pick out the tail and the stakeout. The others had also remarked that they were being followed everywhere as they carried out the same round of get-to-know you chats with international companies and 'what we can do for you' security dog-and-bone shows. These guys were not exactly the most experienced of watchers.

He had told them to make it easy for them. Be loud in a bar, stay visual, shout at a taxi driver, stride around arrogantly. Make it look like you were brash and unconcerned and were not expecting any targets. This is just a business jolly - more like a holiday for men like you. Old hand showing young recruits the ropes. Why should they be watching their backs?

Unless they had a different agenda. Were trying to look innocent while they conducted some very shady under-the-table business. If you were intelligence you would never take that chance. But if you were running guns and trying to advertise yourself to the naughty boys - then you just might. Bluff. Double bluff. Counter bluff. How sophisticated were these boys in reading that game? Terry had no idea but nor did he wish to underestimate them. After what they had pulled off over the past three years, then they deserved at least taking seriously.

He stood on the road trying to hail a cab in the stinking heat, the crazy traffic moving at such a pace, even in the congested city centre, that he wondered how any car could stop even if they saw him. But, with a grin, he saw he had nothing to fear. A taxi in the fast lane simply horned and cut across three lanes of traffic to shriek to a halt by him, ignoring the complaints from the cars about.

"KLCC Suria?" A female's voice cut in as he stepped towards the rear door. He looked to his left. A beautiful Chinese woman, exquisitely groomed in a creamy chocolate coloured linen suit, was opening the passenger door. She glanced across. "This is Asia. We jump queues," she smiled.

Terry laughed. "Share the ride? I'm going there too. Well, The Mandarin Oriental anyway. Next door...?

The woman shrugged. "If you wish." She got in to the front and spoke in fluent Cantonese to the driver who grunted, happy enough to have made two fares. Terry sat at the rear.

"Thanks. I appreciate it. Bit hot standing out there at this time of the day..." Terry began.

"Yes," she replied with an edge that said 'Don't try and chat me up, buster.' He smiled to himself. Another Annie here. He could imagine how frosty she would be to anyone who tried to hit on her. That superior look of hers. That started him thinking and, as he gazed out of the window at the impressive development of this beautiful SE Asian capital, his thoughts were far away.

"We're here. Do you want to go on or will you walk round?" The woman broke into his reverie.

They were at the main entrance of one of the tallest buildings in the world The Petronas Twin Towers, Kuala Lumpur. Terry rushed to pull out his wallet but the woman had already paid.

"Doesn't matter. Just a few dollars," she said and then got out of the car. Terry followed.

"Thank you...er..." He ran his hand through his hair and tried to think of something to say. He wasn't used to being caught on the hop or treated by a woman. "You shouldn't have paid....let me buy you a coffee or something?"

She opened her mouth as if to say something and then checked her watch. With a slight shrug, she said "Why not? I'm early...The Dome. That has a decent cup...Yes, I'd like a coffee...Thank you."

With that, she turned briskly and led him to the pavement café, cooled by fine air conditioning water vapour fans and large umbrellas. They sat down and she ordered two cappuccinos. The café looked out over the manmade lake and the dramatic water fall display that was staged every half an hour in the beautiful urban park lying in the centre of this garden city and in the heart of the commercial district. Tropical plants and trees abounded - it was a breathtaking mix of equatorial rainforest within a city so modern it took one's breath away..

"My name's Terrence Thorne. I'm here on business," he extended his hand to her.

"Miss Lim Hsueh Hsiang. Pleased to meet you Mr. Thorne. Australian?"

"Yeah? You been there?"

"I studied in Melbourne. Lived in Sydney. Have family in Perth. Yes, I know Australia well." She had a brusque style. It wasn't exactly conversation, although she wasn't withholding anything. But it was a typically Asian trait.

"You have the advantage. My first visit to your beautiful city." Not true, but he was not prepared to go into too much detail with anyone. It helped if people thought he was a newcomer.

"Not my city. I am Singaporean. Although I am working here at the moment."

"Singapore. Great place. Know that better."

The coffee arrived and Terry took the opportunity to discreetly appraise this stunning lady. She was tall for a Chinese woman but still a head smaller than he was. Her body was slender and her frame narrow, even more so than Annie. But she was not waif thin - her breasts were full and there was a feminine roundness about her for all her petite shape. Miss Lim was very pale skinned in that way many Chinese women seem to prefer, alabaster smooth face, large almond brown eyes, tiny pert nose and wide shapely mouth revealing white, even, pearl teeth. Her hair was thick and straight, so blue-black that it was like polished ebony as it swung in its perfect cut around her face and fell onto her shoulders. She looked intelligent, serious and confident, but he had caught a slight gleam in her eye. Miss Lim had noticed him, whatever her demeanour suggested, and he suspected he would never have been allowed into the cab had she not been interested on some level.

"What company are you attached to?" Miss Lim asked. The comment was slightly old-fashioned in its phrasing, a throw back to the colonial English still used here.

"My card..." Terry handed her a business card and she glanced at it curiously. "What is Security? Alarms and such systems? Are you an engineer?"

"No. Security consultant. We live in dangerous times..."

"Ahhh...interesting...so this is a euphemism? If you were American, I would say CIA...the usual cover? What is the Australian equivalent? Are you connected to the Bali investigations?"

Terry breathed in. Jesus, she was quick. He regretted saying so much. Alarms would have been OK. "No...nothing like that. Just personal security. Embassy staff. Expatriates. Armed bodyguards. Secured accommodation. Precautionary stuff, ya know?"

"So you're a body guard?"

He grinned. "Not any more...too old for that mullarkey now. Leave it to the younger boys, eh?"

"Let me guess. You're an ex- Rugby player? Don't they often go into being body guards?"

"Do I look like I played Rugby?"

For the first time Hsueh Hsiang smiled. It was a glorious moment. She was quite unbelievably beautiful. "Actually you do. But not one of the ugly ones. The quick ones...not those with helmets and no teeth..."

Terry chuckled. "Well, that's a relief. Yeah, I played. Long time ago. Something else I'm too old for now."

"You sell yourself short, Mr. Thorne. You do not look old to me. Or perhaps you are fishing for a compliment?" At that she threw her head back and laughed. He felt his breath catch.

Swallowing hard, he put on his charming debonair look. "Terry, please, Miss Lim...Of course, I wouldn't be trying to get anything from a lady. Not even a compliment." He gave her a shy grin as he sipped his coffee.

Miss Lim smiled. "Very pretty, Terry. Please call me Hsueh Hsiang. Or Sue if you find that difficult..."

"No... Hsueh Hsiang. It is a beautiful name. What does it mean?"

That brought a pleased expression to her face. "It means Fragrant Water..."

Terry raised his eyebrows. "What did I say? Beautiful..."

At that moment her response was cut short as her cell phone rang. With a quick apology, she answered and Terry sat back and observed her as she talked rapidly in Chinese. She wasn't wearing a ring on her left hand although she was adorned with some very fine other rings, an expensive watch and a solid gold bracelet. Miss Lim was a wealthy woman.

"I'm sorry, Terry, but I have to run. My client is ready. It was very pleasant to have met you. Enjoy your stay in Kuala Lumpur. My card, should you need anything..." Hsueh Hsiang opened her briefcase and took out a business card. He stood up and shook her hand, slipping the card into the pocket of his light jacket.

She made her way through the crowded forecourt of the building and ran neatly up the steps to the great glass doors. Terry watched her go with a mix of regret and relief. This was the kind of woman a married man keeps well away from.

It was good to have company. The three adults sat around the dinner table, the remnants of their dessert still before them while Zoe and Liam chattered on twenty to the dozen. Dino was leaning back in his chair, broad grin on his face enjoying it all, occasionally ribbing the little boy or pretending he didn't understand. Liam would act all exasperated, rake his hand through his hair and start again. Dino would crack up, mouthing: "He like his Dad or what?"

Zoe was on about her usual obsession; Harry Potter. She was telling Mel the entire story of what appeared to be every book; Mel was being remarkably patient with her.

"Dad is going to get me tickets to the premiere of the next film in New York," she reliably informed her godmother.

"That so?" Annie interjected. "Have you told him yet?" She teased.

"He's got contacts, Mum," Zoe added with assurance. 

Mel looked at Annie. "In Hogwarts?" 

I giggled. "You know my husband. He is very unpredictable." We both grinned. Zoe was just sailing on.

"I want to meet Daniel Radcliffe. Do you think he's too old for me?"

"Daniel Radcliffe?" Mel asked.

"The boy who plays Harry Potter," Annie filled in for her friend. "My daughter perves on him."

"I don't perve! I just love him. I don't think he's too old for me. I'm quite tall for my age...."

"He's sixteen. You are eight. That is a bit of a gap!" Annie insisted.

"Dad's seven years older than you," the little madam insisted. "I'm not really into boys of my age. I prefer older men."

Mel shook her head. "I'm pretty glad this is a boy. Imagine having a daughter like me? I couldn't put Dino through that. Myself neither, come to think of it..."

Annie stood up laughing and began to clear the dishes, Mel joined her and they chatted in the kitchen while they tidied up and loaded the dishwasher. Dino was bravely taking on both children. When they rejoined them, the three had disappeared from the table and Liam and Dino were lying on the floor playing on Liam's Playstation - some action stuff that involved killing everyone and everything in sight. Both of them were engrossed in it, talking to themselves non stop.

The women burst out laughing. Zoe was grinning too. "Dino's just like Dad. He loves those games. But he hates it when Liam beats him. Liam knows all the cheats. Dad's hopeless..."

For a while she let them play and then announced that it was bedtime, school in the morning. The two little ones moaned and groaned and only gave in when Mel promised a story. "It's OK, Annie. Take a break. I'd like to put them to bed. Really. Better get used to it, hey?"

"Don't forget toothbrushes and not too long. Auntie Mel needs to get her feet up."

Off they tumbled, dragging Mel by the hand. Annie poured Dino a Scotch and offered him a cigar. He shook his head. "Actually, Annie, I'd like a chat..."

"Chat? Why does that sound ominous? You got some information for me, Dino? Is everything all right..." Her voice grew tight and he saw her pale.

He held his hand up. "This is not about Terry. Relax."

Annie sighed and ran her hand down her face. "Sorry. I'm just jumpy. He hasn't called for a few days. He's told me not to call him. I do as I'm told..." That was not quite the truth of it. She hadn't dared call him again since the dreadful phone call and, apart from one fairly curt conversation the following day, he hadn't contacted her since by phone. Just a daily e-mail. Safe. Can't be caught with your pants down e-mail, can you?. She shrugged the thought away. She had told him it didn't matter. So why was she suddenly obsessing over the notion?

"It's safer that way, honey. Then he can be sure that everything is secure when he talks to you. No, what I wanted to ask you was this. Mel tells me you've met some guy in the apartment block? She thinks he's an Arab. Liam was just telling me about his new friend, Amri. Who took him to the park to play football..." Dino gave her a pointed look.

Annie shrugged, a little annoyed that Mel had mentioned Amri. "So? I didn't know I wasn't even supposed to talk to people..."

"Hey...this is me!" Dino broke in. As much as he loved Annie he wasn't going to engage in one of her semantic discussions. She was going to listen to him. "You know I wouldn't interfere in your life without a good reason? Hear me out. Okay?"

Annie nodded, feeling chastened by the way she had bridled at his words. She took a deep breath, lit up a cigarette and listened.

"Terry said anything about accidental meetings with people? Did he tell you that anything suspicious should be checked out?"

"Of course he did! You know that. But Amri is not suspicious. Anyway, I checked him out myself..."

Dino repressed a smile. "That so? You got someone in Washington, too? I'm impressed..."

"Ha ha, very funny! I mean he said he was a banker and I rang them up and it's true. He does work for Goldman Sachs here in New York..."

"I'll bet he does. Honey, anyone really suspicious has his cover sewn up tight. Like your husband the KR man. Get it?"

Annie winced at that. "Amri's just a nice kid...he's not a danger to anyone..."

"Let me be the judge of that, Annie. I've got him under surveillance, baby. Nothing yet, but he's a smart boy. I know one thing that bothers me already. He has an elder brother called Faroush. He's on a CIA Wanted list."

Annie blanched. "That doesn't mean that..."

"No, it doesn't. But it doesn't mean he's clean either. How many people you got to know in this place?"

She looked down. "No one really, except for Amri. A couple of faces I'd recognise from the gym or the foyer but no one to speak to..."

"Yeah, I thought so. But this young guy - this handsome young guy - just keeps turning up and bumping into you and chatting to your kids and offering you a hand with your shopping...."

"How do you know all that?" Annie gasped.

"I told you. He's being watched."

"Are you watching me as well? Did he ask you to do that? Put me under surveillance too?" Dino said nothing. Annie was furious. "My God! What is this! Are you all completely paranoid?"

"You let him take Liam to the park. Several times. Think about it from another angle. What the fuck has a wealthy young banker got in common with a seven-year old boy? Do you not see that this might be a possible area for concern? Think, Annie! Use your head!  These are not amateurs. They are highly skilled operators who can slip unseen around this country in a way that your average Arab boy couldn't. You really think our security forces couldn't pick them off if they all wore white robes and dish cloths on their heads? The real dangerous ones have foreign passports, fluent English, impeccable credentials, western lifestyles...."

"Oh God!" Annie put her head in her hands. "I let him take Liam! What a bloody fool I am! What does this mean, Dino? Are they onto Terry?"

He shook his head. "It could mean anything - or nothing. The kid could be clean. But we daren't take a chance. As for Terry, it may be a sign that they're ready to make contact. Checking out that he is who and what he says. The ex-soldier back in K and R with a family settled in New York. No longer working for the Australian government. But he won't like them so close to you. He has to know about this. Tomorrow I tell him. Don't act suddenly cold towards this guy. But don't ever let him alone with the children again - or entertain him in this apartment. Make excuses. Say your husband disapproves. Say anything. But don't let him know you're suspicious."

"What if he's persistent?"

"Then tell me. I'll deal with it."

"Deal with it?" Annie asked curiously. Dino clammed up, walked over and poured himself another shot of malt. She watched his back and bit her lip. Good God, were they really sitting here calmly discussing potentially 'removing' someone who got too close to her and the children? Or was that not what he meant at all? Somehow Annie didn't want to know any more and the band of pain tightened another notch around her heart.

The first contact. A brown envelope underneath his door as he came back the next afternoon from an appointment. Just a place and a time. 

Terry sat down and re-read the note. Public place. Predominantly tourists and traders. Notorious Chinese gangland area. Any westerner behaving surreptitiously is no doubt buying pirate DVDs, music, fake watches or possibly looking for sex. Few Muslims go there except to buy cheap goods. Police in the pay of the gangs - only nominal presence. Good choice.

He decided to bring Hewitt. He looked young. At a pinch could be his son. Would look the part of a traveler, buying cheap stuff while Daddy sits and has a beer. Position Costello and Anders in a room nearby with a listening device, ready to come in if necessary. Easy enough. He picked up his phone.

"First day of the sales...you ready to spend some money? You and Dickhead get a room. Backpackers Inn, Jalan Petaling. Make like you just did the Khao San trail. Fit Blondie up with a piece for me and him and the two of you be listening and watching. Seven. Swiss Inn. Pavement café. I'll be the one with the beer.  If I signal 'Loud' then you get us the fuck out of there. Any questions? Send Babyface up. Tell him to dress for the ashram...."

Seven. The streets of Chinatown were already thick with stalls and customers, a sea of humanity sweating under the tropical night, pickpockets and touts out in force, tourists being ripped off one way or another right left and centre and enjoying the experience. Every corner was jammed with vendors: fruit stalls, fake designer wear, fake sports goods, fake watches, pirate DVDs, pirate soft ware, pirate CDs 'Buy here. Only genuine fakes!' You got to love this place, Terry grinned. Annie did. His kids, too. They always stopped over here on the way to and from Oz.

The smells were rich and evocative. Food being cooked at the coffee shops or pavement stalls, exotic and pungent fruits like durian for sale, the foul stink of blocked drains, the sweet smell of spices and fragrant flowers, the chanting and incense from nearby temples. Every type of person to be seen: tourists of all ages, sizes and nationalities: overweight middle aged wealthy visitors, slumming it for a cheap thrill; impossibly young backpackers going native, with plaited hair and flowing clothes, unwashed and naively ethnic; locals - middle class Chinese, viewing many of the visitors with inscrutable tolerance; hawkers - their faces sharp and lively, calculating profit in all its myriad forms; beggars, some handicapped, pitifully pulling themselves along on little carts,  wandering street sellers from poorer areas of Asia, Burma, Nepal, Bangladesh, dark fathomless eyes  staring out impassively at the affluence of another world, selling so-called antiques and precious stones at giveaway prices that still made them rich when they returned back home.

Bent old men and women struggling with heavy loads or washing dishes for restaurants, still trying to earn a crust on the fringes of this commercial heaven in a community where if your children didn't take care of you, then you were out on the streets. Shifty-eyed young Chinese, runners for gangs, hair dyed and cut in wild spikes, dressed in American street fashions that looked ludicrous on their slender frames - but you could be easily fooled by these androgynous young men. They were mostly lethal martial arts experts and could take most bigger men apart at will. Not to mention their proficiency with knives and cleavers and their total disdain for human life.

And then there were the women. Pale, neat Chinese women, slender and girlish, demure and serious; flashing eyed  Indian beauties with their colourful saris and voluptuous bodies, their thick lair slicked with coconut oil, their perfume a heady jasmine, their beauty so shiny and deep that there seemed to be no comparison to the pale insipid prettiness of a European girl. Then there were a few Malay girls who rejected convention and visited such places, hair unveiled and in western dress. They were natural girls, tiny and soft, hips swinging and hair tossed, eyeing up men and giggling. They combined some dangerous innocence with an earthy knowingness that came from their soul, even if they were now restricted by the religious control that this Islamic state sought to enforce. The place was a melting pot for the senses as well as the eyes. Asia in all its contrasts - dirty, majestic, spiritual, sordid, exciting, beautiful, timeless, crime-ridden, entrepreneurial and endlessly contradictory. Terry felt he could sit there all night and simply watch the scene unfold before him.

But he was on his guard. Little had escaped his gaze. He had observed the quick and nimble team of pickpockets who had already lifted three wallets to his knowledge from the area within his vision, the empty stall with three or four sad looking T- shirts at which almost all the tourists were encouraged to stop for unusually long periods of time - the hawkers had a catalogue of any film you could think of on DVD and you ticked your choice, paid your money, hung about and a few minutes later a runner dropped it into your hand. It was a slick operation and as much fun for the visitor as the cheap purchase itself. There were the girls plying their trade lounging along the five foot way, the covered pavement above the stalls and in front of the bazaar-like shops and restaurants; here and there the gang members with their tattoos, jade rings and long fingernails watched and ruled - nothing happened here without their tacit approval and they creamed off a fat fee for their 'protection'

Hewitt was browsing through a stall openly supplying pirate music CDs - all the latest, fresh from Tower Records, digitally copied and with a pretty smart version of the original cover, made all the more charming by the quaint misspellings. Terry smiled as he watched him. He had let his hair grow; it was tied in a small knot at the nape of his neck, his sparse stubble had grown into a stringy beard; dressed in loose white baggy calico plants and a cheesecloth caftan, leather bands around his wrist and some carved Buddhist symbol hanging from his neck on a thong, he blended in with the other travelers. A few girls traveling in packs eyed him up and he gave them a cheeky grin. He was doing fine but then how much was he pretending? Kyle was a young bloke and this is probably how he spent his free time anyway.

The thought of the gulf that now existed between him and men of his elder son's age made him feel suddenly tired. He no longer envied the men who were footloose and on the make. Somehow on the way, that casual taking of pleasure seemed to have lost its charm for him where once he had been resolutely defensive of his desire to stay free of all commitment. And look where that had brought him. Mid-thirties, an emotional cripple, falling for pretty little wives of clients rather than trying to go out and actually make a life of his own. He drank back his beer and snagged a cigarette. He caught Hewitt's sudden movement as his head jerked up in the direction of a boy who ran past his table. A key was now lying next to the ashtray. The boy had disappeared into the crowd. Looking up, he saw that Hewitt had vanished; he was now standing behind him and the two men both stepped back into the air-conditioned foyer of the budget hotel behind them.

Terry asked at reception for the key to the Men's room. These places kept the ground floor toilets locked to prevent them being used for prostitution, drug exchanges or other nefarious business deals. A European was always welcome - locals were regularly chased away if not hotel residents. He and Hewitt made for the bathroom but Terry ducked through the door to the stairs while Kyle lounged outside reading a newspaper. Running up to the fourth floor, taking the stairs two at a time, he caught his breath and then entered the room 423, the key moving smoothly through the lock.

The room was in darkness, a noisy air conditioner obscuring sound. The reassuring voice in his ear, however, told him that their receivers were still picking up clearly. Hewitt knew his business. A man was sitting in the far corner of the room, flanked by two taller shadows; Terry could not make out any details. He sensed rather than saw the man behind him who had been by the side of the door.

"OK...I'm here. Quit trying to play the Spy game. What you want?" Terry asked with an air of unconcern.

"I rather think I should be asking that question, Mr. Thorne. Why are you here in Kuala Lumpur?" The voice came from the seated man. His English was fluent but carefully modulated as if he was trying to mask his accent.

Terry launched into his usual spiel. The man heard him out. "And now the real reason, please. The rest is a smokescreen. Oh, I know you are K and R, but you are also up to your own little game as well. With your three little playmates. I think you are using this security job as a mask. We have been watching you..."

"Yeah? That so? And what do you think we've been up to?"

There was a pause. "You are trying to find contacts to barter weapons. Like many of your people, you have no loyalty or morality. But, that is not my concern. My concern is whether or not I decide to trust you and recommend that we engage in a transaction. This is a preliminary meeting. I merely wanted to assess you for myself." At that he clicked his fingers and the man behind grabbed Terry at the same time as the other two moved against him. He didn't respond, merely allowing them to manhandle him and frisk his clothing. They pulled out a listening device. It was the plant. The real microscopic bug was still in place.

One man ground the tiny gadget under his heel. "Now, let us talk more freely. I want to know what you can supply, from where it is sourced and the figure you had in mind. I need names to verify your actual ability to supply and that this is not something quite different. We have people inside, Mr. Thorne. You try to hoodwink us and they will never find the pieces. Of the four of you, I mean. Make no mistake."

Terry laughed. "I'm scared. You think I'd be here if I thought you weren't the business? I don't put my neck on the line for amateurs, mate. I can give you what you want. But it'll cost. Check me out. Do what the fuck you like. But you want what I'm selling and you know I can get it. If you know that much, that is. We'll be in touch, hey? Oh and one more thing - next time, your dogs touch me, I'll take them apart. You might enjoy the demonstration. I'm not fucking about either."

And he walked out, leaving the door wide open as he slipped down the stairs and back to the foyer. Hewitt complained loudly at the length of time he had taken. Terry said: "So I ate a bad prawn? Wouldn't go in there if I were you..." and the two men laughed as they returned the key to the receptionist.

Adrenalin was still pumping as they walked up to the Italian bar to grab something to eat. Having left the sticky, crowded, downtown streets, they had ridden a cab to the trendy eateries and bars of the foreign expat set in Bangsar, luxury condo-land. Here they could be anyone: tourists, expatriates, embassy staff, businessmen. White faces were more common than local although the young rich Malaysian professionals were out in force as well. The men selected a table by the wall near a fountain spouting out of a Classical head, all very Renaissance-style, and they ordered pizzas. They didn't talk much, no mention of the case, but they were all on a post action-high. The mouse was nibbling the cheese. The real stuff was on the brink, after all these months of preparation. They were like Olympic athletes waiting for the gun. A Large TV carried live coverage of a football match from Europe and they watched it, drinking beer, smoking and discussing the game.

"There's a couple of clubs down this road. Fancy a whirl after?" Costello asked as they cleared their plates. The others seemed keen. Nervous energy that needed working off. Terry raised his eyes and pulled a face.

"Too old for night life, boss?" 

Terry grinned. "Too wise. I might give it a look this time, though..."

The others grinned. 

"We are honoured. This time you gonna run out on us again, mate?" Anders asked wryly. The subject of Thorne's opt -out during their orgy with the English lovelies had been studiously avoided up to now. Terry pulled a face.

"I'm a married man. Have to be a bit more circumspect than you lucky lads," he grinned but it seemed a little forced this time.

"That who rang? Your wife? Jesus, I'd have shat myself," Costello laughed. "Fucking women - they have a radar or what?"

Terry said nothing, just took a drink of his glass.

"Well? Was it your wife?"

"No. My father confessor. He always checks up on me to make sure I've said my night prayers," Terry snapped back. His voice was clipped; the conversation was at an end. Even Costello didn't push him further.

Just then a party entered on their way to a reserved table down at the back of the restaurant, past the long bar. "Christ, she's fucking gorgeous," Hewitt muttered. The woman turned her head as if she had heard him but her expression surprised them. She broke into a smile. "Terry! What a coincidence!"

He stood up. "Hsueh Hsiang! Ni hao ma?"  Miss Lim answered in Mandarin, clearly impressed that he knew some of her language. She introduced him to her companions and he cursorily named his own friends. They were impressed. She hoped that they had enjoyed their meal and excused herself to rejoin her party. Terry nodded and smiled. She gave him a flirtatious glance saying: "You never called."

"Not needed anything - yet,' he answered with a grin. With that she turned away laughing and made her way back to her own friends. He watched her go. She looked fine, dressed in low slung dark blue denims with a little silver grey silky top, her thick hair swept up in a pony tail, her tiny feet encased in jeweled slippers. It made her look so young and yet she still had that air of grave elegance and intelligent beauty that had so captivated him when he had first run in to her.

"Jesus Christ, you're a fucking dark horse, Thorne. You holding out on us? Or is that the wife?" Costello teased, pulling back as if he expected Thorne to go for him.

"She's a lovely young lady. I had the pleasure of sharing a cab with her the other day. And stop letting your dirty minds work overtime. That lady is one class act. She wouldn't piss on you lot if you were on fire, lads."

"...Whereas she looks like she would be more than grateful for a bit of action from your dick, hey, boss?" Costello retorted. The others snorted and Terry pouted in disdain. But he did not demur and there was an air of satisfaction about his demeanour. The scent of the chase was in his nostrils and the reaction of the men was goading him on. There's nothing like proving you've still got what it takes before a pack of rabid young men on the make.

Shortly afterwards, the four men paid and filed out, looking for some livelier action as the night progressed. Terry glanced over at Miss Lim's table as he left; she was looking back over at him. Their eyes met and they both smiled. She tilted up her chin and rested it on her smooth manicured hand. He felt himself blink involuntarily as the sensation of her overt interest impacted on him. She might as well have asked him to dance. It was as open as that.

The class of children ran into the school Art studio, eager to secure the best places and be seated with friends while a young female teacher calmed them down and made them behave in a more orderly fashion. Most were quickly seated, all enjoying this lesson and the creative opportunity it gave them. Liam Thorne hung back, unsure where to sit. He didn't have any friends and was unwilling to be stuck next to some stupid geek who might want to talk to him.

"Liam - sit down!" The teacher urged. He still dithered about.

"Sit here! There's a place free." He looked sharply to his left and saw a girl smiling at him. He didn't know her name but she was in his class. She was one of those clever girls like his sister who always had her nose stuck in a book or her hand up answering everything while he was still wondering what page they were on.

But he sat there anyway. He noticed a few of the boys looking back and laughing at him for sitting next to a girl. That was almost as bad as being stuck with that fat kid with the glasses who had wet his pants last week, Liam thought. He grimaced and slumped on the desk, picking up the modelling clay set out before him and sticking the plastic tools into it absentmindedly. "Liam - sit up straight and stop touching your materials! Listen to the instructions first." He exhaled loudly to show he was bored with the lesson already and threw himself back in his seat, lounging in it as if he would slither off onto the floor any second.

He heard a giggle. "You are a fidget, aren't you!" It was the swotty girl again.

"What if I am? I'm bored. I hate this stupid lesson," he muttered.

"Why? Don't you like Art?"

"S'okay. But what good is it? I'm going to be a pilot when I grow up. Who needs stupid painting?" he added aggressively.

"It isn't painting. We're doing sculpture today. You can make a model plane then. What's your favourite aircraft?" 

He looked across at her suspiciously. "What do you know about planes?"

She shrugged. "Nothing much. But you do. You can make whatever you like. Anything that you care about. That's what art is about. What's inside of you. That's what my Mom says anyway."

Liam thought about that and then picked up the clay, tore off a piece and rolled it in his hands. Then he squashed it slightly and placed the object down on the table. The little girl looked curiously at the elliptical shape. "What are you trying to make?"

"What I care about. Rugby. That's a rugby ball."

She giggled. "You're funny, Liam Thorne. I love the way you talk. It's so cool." 

Liam smiled back, flattered by her words. He automatically lowered his eyelashes as he observed her, completely unaware of the effect he was having on the small girl. "What's your name?" he asked directly.

"Beatrice."

Liam snorted. "Beatrix Potter? Like those stupid animal stories?" Zoe had once been obsessed with them. He thought they were boring.

"No," she replied, indignation clearly evident in her voice. "Beatrice" She pronounced it in the Italian way  'Beatriche'  "She's from Shakespeare. My Mummy's an actress. Theatre. Not television."

He shrugged. "What's your other name?"

"Stein. Beatrice Rosamund Stein."

"My name's Liam Patrick Thorne," he added and they sat in silence for a while as they listening to the teacher giving them her instructions. Beatrice stole a shy glance across at him as he stared at the teacher, his chestnut hair curling around his ears and the messy fringe sticking up where he had pushed it back. His eyes were so big and pale, a clear glassy green, and his mouth hung open, a kind of goofy, dreamy expression on his face. She noticed the flutter of his long lashes and that he had a bruise on his cheek. She thought he was really good looking, not in that pretty, showing off way like Bradley and his friends who all gelled their hair and wore identical sports shirts, though. Liam just didn't seem to care what he looked like. She preferred boys like that.

After a while, the two children struck up a conversation. "What does your Mom do?" Beatrice asked. Liam sniffed. "Dunno. Hangs about the house and stuff."

"She's a housewife?" Beatrice said the word as if it was something totally shocking to her.

"Suppose so. She used to be a lecturer in Uni. Before we came here."

"Whew, that's better! My Mum says every woman must have her own career."

Liam frowned. "Why?"

Beatrice thought about that. "Because she has to be independent. Not any man's slave..."

He looked at her oddly. "What are you on about? You don't half say some mental things..."

Beatrice pouted and flounced on her chair for a while. "Well, what does your Daddy do then?"

"Dunno. He used to be a soldier. He's in K and R now."

"What's K and R?"

"Kidnapping...."

"He kidnaps people?" Beatrice gasped.

"No! He gets them out."

"How?"

"I dunno. He just does."

"I never heard of that job before."

Liam grinned. "So you don't know everything, do ya, clever clogs."

"Have you got a stepfather?" Beatrice changed the subject.

"No...wait... I might have. I think that might be Dino..." Liam added.

"Does he sleep with your Mom?"

"Who? Dino?" Liam giggled. "Dad'd kill him!" he laughed.

Beatrice smiled knowingly. "Then he isn't your stepfather, silly. He must be a family friend. Do you really live with your Dad as well as your Mom?"

Liam nodded. "Mostly. He works away now. For a while anyway. He moved out once when he had a row with Mum but everything's all right now."

"They didn't divorce? Everyone I know is divorced. It's very popular amongst older people. My Mom's been divorced three times..."

"Wow! Don't you have a Dad?" Liam asked.

Beatrice looked sagely at him. "Well, I must have, mustn't I? Some man must have given Mom his seed. But I've never met him. She told me I was the fruit of a wild affair she had with a Russian ballet dancer. She said it was passionate but the flame burnt out quickly..."

"Your Mum sounds weird. Does she grow a lot of plants?" Liam observed screwing his face up to try and work out what she was talking about.

"Plants?" Beatrice queried, completely confused now.

"Seeds. This ballet dancer gave her some seeds..." Liam muttered.

"...Don't you know where babies come from?" Beatrice whispered softly, blushing slightly.

Liam shrugged. "From your Mum's tummy," he answered, not much interested in the topic.

"I mean how they get there!" Beatrice whispered. Liam stopped and pushed his hair out of his eyes and managed to smear a trail of wet clay through his already unruly locks.

"You mean sex? Yeah...I know about sex. My Dad told me. From your willy.  But what's it got to do with seeds?"

They had entered the waiting zone. Terry knew that they would be left high and dry now for a couple of days to make them jumpy. The impression would be - We can take you or leave you. We don't trust you. We are not biting. You jump to our tune. The same old story whether this was a hostage negotiation or a business deal. You learn to deal with it, to expect the tedious days hanging in hotel lobby bars, catching up on reading around yet another hotel pool, eating too much and drinking more than was wise. Then the occasional release of tension, whatever was your particular poison.

He was coping rather better than the other men, who did not take well to inactivity. Hewitt spent hours wandering shopping malls and buying electronic gadgets to play with; Anders actually did some sightseeing. Costello was usually in the gym or running around the track in the park near their hotel, despite the searing humidity. Terry recognized the need; Costello was so hyped with nervous energy that he had to off load it or he was dangerous. That could be useful - or it could be very difficult to contain.

One thing he himself couldn't do any longer was put Annie off. He had time now to talk to them all and yet he felt as though he was avoiding the issue more and more. Guilt? Partly - but not solely. There were other things at play. He wasn't interested in what was going on back there if he was entirely honest. This job was taking over, on his mind, giving him that adrenalin rush, that challenge that he now knew he had lacked for so many years. You can't function as an intelligence officer with your mind stuck back home with the wife and kids. The two worlds collide. For the moment he wished he could cut himself off completely and stop feeling as though he owed it to them all to have them on his mind night and day.

Something had changed in him. He felt harder and more remote. 

The phone rang for a long time and he realized he was hoping she didn't pick up. But she did. Just as he was going to ring off.

"Terry, how fantastic! I knew you wouldn't forget!" He grimaced. Forget? What? What date was it?

"Well, you know me..." he laughed.

"Zoe will be so thrilled! Wait...she's having a pool party... April in New York? Luckily it's inside...great place. A sort of Aqua centre. Dozens of little girls. They have done it with a Hawaiian theme - can you imagine her dressed as a hula girl..."

He exhaled slowly. Christ, it was her eighth birthday. He smiled wryly. 'Well handled, Terry, if I say so myself.' he thought. He hadn't missed a beat.

"DADDY!" she screamed down the phone and he held the receiver and winced.

"Hiya, princess, Happy Birthday, wish I could be there."

"Daddy, I got loads of present and this place is fantastic...I'll send you some photos. I wish you were here...when you coming home? I miss you, Daddy. It's not the same...Dino's here...he's making everyone laugh. He says he's Hawaiian. With red hair? And he says Auntie Mel is a white whale. She's ENORMOUS. Her tummy is so big it looks like she's going to pop any minute...and Liam's got a girlfriend. She's called Beatrice and she's really posh. Her Mum's a star or something. Don't know what she sees in Liam...." His head was spinning, listening to her. Thankfully: "I gotta go, Dad...they just turned on the big waves...Alohaaaaa!!!!!!!"

There was dead air for a moment when he could pick up the sounds of kids screaming and splashing in a pool. He had a sudden memory of his childhood and swimming training before school at the pool; he had been on the city squad at one point.

"Dad! Hiya! It's Zoe's birthday. It's pretty boring. There are no boys here but me and Dino. I'm not having a stupid pool party. I want to go go-karting.  Can I?"

He shook his head. It was as if he had just walked out of the room. "Your birthday isn't for ten months. We'll talk about it then."

"Can I go anyway? Awww, go on, Dad. I'll wear a helmet. Plllllleeeeasssssse!!"

Terry counted to ten. "Heard you've got a girlfriend," he deftly changed the subject. This time it was Liam who groaned.

"Did Zoe tell you that? She's not my girlfriend. She's just a girl in my class. Mum saw me talking to her and she asked her stupid Mum if she could come to this stupid party."

"So you don't like this bird, hey? She got a name?" Terry grinned.

"Beatrice. Stupid name, innit? She's all right. She gets all her Math right. She lets me copy." Terry bit his lip to stop himself laughing. 

"Hot stuff, hey? What does she look like? Pretty?"

"Pretty?" Liam replied as though the concept needed explaining to him. "Dunno. She looks like a girl. Long hair and stuff.  Dad...can I do go-karting? There's a trip from my class and I want to beat that nob Bradley..."

"Hey...watch your language, mate. You're not in Oz now. Put your Mum on and I'll see what I can do. No promises, hey?"

"Love ya, Dad..." Liam was gone and the next moment he heard Annie's laugh and then she took the phone. 

"Hi, sweetie. Hey, where've you been? It's been days!"

"Yeah...just busy, you know? How are you?"

"Great. I'm here with Mel and Dino and Charis..."

"Charis?"

"She has a daughter in Liam's class. He's sweet on her."

"That would be Beatrice? He didn't sound too keen when I spoke to him..."

"Well, wild horses wouldn't drag an admission like that out of him. He is a man, you know. But he follows her round like a little lap dog. Just like you and me. Not. Zoe's already planning the wedding. She's named their first two children Hermione and Daniel."

"What?" Terry wondered if he'd lost the thread. "How's Mel?"

"Ready to drop. Another 10 days. Driving us all nuts. Dino's worse. He's like a wound up toy."

"Wish them well. What about this Arab that's been sniffing around..."

There was a silence and he wondered if she had walked away from the others to reply. "He has not been 'sniffing' around. I haven't seen much of him lately. Just hello and goodbye. He's busy and he's not a problem. Honest."

"Keep it that way. You get any vibes and you call Dino. You got that? I can do without having to think about that as well..."

He could hear her breath catch. She was annoyed at his comment. "You don't have to think about it 'as well'. Dino thought you just might be interested. But don't worry. You have him to offload the nuisance factor onto..."

"Jesus, Annie, I didn't mean that! I just meant...what the fuck! Like you'd listen anyway? You hear what you want to hear as usual..."

There was a silence and he could hear the tight sound in her throat as she replied. She was near to tears. "I'm not going to quarrel over the phone, especially not in this public place. I'm sorry if I said the wrong thing. Let's not make a song and dance of it, okay? You all right? The job going well?"

He guessed how much it cost her to come down like that when he had been so unreasonably sharp. "Yeah...fine. Don't worry. Nothing to worry about at all..."

"Good. Look, I need to organize the cake. Call me later. Or whenever you're free..." She hung up and he winced at the whole conversation. 

Lying back on the bed, he lit up and stared at the ornate brass ceiling fan as it whirled. Eight years ago. The memory of that day was etched forever on his brain. He had panicked and insisted she went to the hospital rather earlier than she should have and so they had spent hours there. Walking around, talking, sitting holding each other until the miracle happened and the real event had begun. Annie had been so calm; he had been so hopeless. He hadn't cared. He had just sat there and cried when that tiny little girl had been placed in his arms.

A woman never forgets a date. Well, she wouldn't, would she? She was there. I was bloody there, too. How come I forgot? I'm smart enough to hide my error but I'm not smart enough to get it right.

He sat up and stalked around the room for a while. Looked at his watch. It was ten at night. He was restless. Flicking on the TV, he looked through the channels, toyed with ordering the porn pay-by-view and then snapped the setoff.

Sitting at the desk, he looked through his attaché case and found the card. For a moment he hesitated and then he shrugged and made the call.

"Wei?" A soft voice answered.

"Miss Lim? It's Terry...Terry Thorne..."

"Terry! What a surprise! So - you have a problem now?" she teased, her voice light and amused.

"Yeah...no one to talk to..."

She had chosen the restaurant; it was her favourite, she said. Set in a forest but just off the main highway, tucked away where you would never expect to find such a jewel. Leaving their car, they made their way down a wooden stairway through a tangled garden lush with tropical plants and flowers to a pagoda-like wooden structure. It was like entering another world, stepping out of reality into some fairy tale existence.

Soft music played, something atonal and of the east, slipper clad waitresses padded silently around; Terry and Hsueh were led to a private bay where voile curtains were pulled across to hide them from other diners. It was intimate and intoxicating. A place for lovers. Impossible not to sit and stare at each other, not to rest his hand over hers across the table, not to feel her naked foot running up and down his leg as they talked and laughed. The food was exquisite, impossibly expensive, some fusion of east and west, but neither did more than play with it. They drank champagne and felt heady.

It was obvious that Hsueh was ready to move this relationship forward - his own behaviour was more or less making his intentions clear anyway. She was so beautiful that she clouded his reason. Tonight she was dressed in shimmery oyster silk, with tiny pearls scattered over the fabric. It was not a revealing outfit in a modern sense but the alabaster skin of her slender naked shoulders and the hint of her smooth slender legs through the slit at the side, the tiny delicate shoes with their high heels and the touch of pearls at her throat and ears seemed to him like something so perfect that she was scarcely real. The essence of female to him.

He wanted to touch. His hand reached out and he ran his knuckles down her cheek; she closed her eyes and rubbed against his fingers. His thumb caught her mouth and he traced the shape, she licked her lips and sucked his digit softly, shyly observing his reaction under hooded eyes. He heard his own breath catch slightly, like a soft sigh.

"I'm sorry...you are so beautiful," he muttered, embarrassed at revealing himself so patently.

She smiled softly, took his large hand, smoothed her fingers over his palm and kissed it. "Why are you apologising? Terry, we're adults. You like me. I like you. What's stopping us? It isn't like you're married or anything..."

He had removed his wedding ring when the English girl has remarked it back on the island. No clues. No sign. As far as Hsueh knew, he had been married once long ago and had a grown up son. She herself was divorced with a ten year old boy who lived with her parents in Singapore. They were both free.

He pulled back slightly, filled up her glass, asked her if she minded if he smoked. She sat back and watched him impassively. Terry realized that he was suddenly avoiding her eyes.

"Terry...is there something wrong? Am I presuming too much?" She asked.

He shook his head, ground out the cigarette, took her hand in his. "I'm just a bit blown away. Hsueh, I don't want you to think I'm some tosser who comes over here thinking he can pull any local girl just because of the size of his wallet..."

"I never thought that. You are not that kind of man. I have experience of that kind of man and he gets short shrift with me. But I will tell you this. When I want a man, I want him. I have no time for games and pretence. I'm not expecting you to ride in and carry me off on your charger, Terry. I'm not sure I would want that from any man anyway. But I want to get to know you better and that includes going somewhere private, stripping you naked and making love all night long..."

She stroked his face and then stood up, gathering her purse and wrap. "But if you don't want that, then this is the time to walk away. Do you want me to?"

He stood up and grasped her hand, pulling her into his body. 

"I don't want you to." His voice was husky and low.

"Prove it."

There and then he pulled her into his arms and took her perfect face in his hands. He kissed her forehead. He kissed each closed eyelid. He raised her face and kissed her neck, the lobes of her ears, his fingers stroking down her cheeks and then he took her mouth and proved it.

The purse dropped from her hand, the wrap fell from her shoulders. She ran her hands over his shoulders and behind his neck to pull him closer, her body leaning in, sleek as a second skin against him. He lowered his hands and cupped her buttocks, raising her off the ground, grinding her against him softly and they tasted each other. "Christ, let's go somewhere," he muttered.

"My apartment?" she whispered.

"Near?"

She laughed softly into his ear. 'Not too far..."

"Might just make it then," he chuckled..."

They lay naked against the huge hardwood headboard on a pile of pillows. Hsueh was kneeling before him, talking softly. She was as perfect naked as clothed, completely unembarrassed by her nudity. His hand stroked down the curve of her silken hip and he let his mind soak in the memories they had just made.

They had run from the car hand-in-hand, kissed passionately in the elevator, he crushing her against the wall, eager for the taste and feel of her. She had opened the door to her apartment and then run ahead, divesting her clothes one by one as he had followed her through the large open-planned penthouse apartment to the bedroom following the trail of clothes. He had thrown off his jacket, discarded his tie, toed off his shoes and socks, ripped the buttons of his shirts in his haste and then he had found her in her room, standing naked before her bed in the moonlight, hair unloosed.

There was an ethereal glow from her pale skin and the contrast of the shiny black hair and the tiny strip of ebony that fringed her sex against the porcelain sheen gave her an unreal almost other-worldly image. For moments they stood transfixed and watched each other. He knew he was panting, that she could see his arousal, bulky and ungainly at his groin. It was a long time since he had felt hunger so bad that he was struggling to restrain himself; he wanted to take her, thrust into her, taste and touch and feel every part of her.

Hsueh stepped forward and her nimble fingers went to his belt and then his zipper. She let his pants fall to the floor and then knelt down before him. "I want to see," she whispered. "Show me!"

Mesmerised, he pushed down his shorts and took himself in his right hand, jerking slowly before her face. She inhaled him, her eyes flickering and her lips parting. It was intensely erotic but she had done nothing but look and smell; yet he felt like he would split his skin. She raised her hands and knocked his away gently, taking him herself and manipulating him deftly, her other hand finding that place behind his balls and massaging. Her kiss was soft and open-mouthed, her tongue flickering in his slit and teasing out the first drip of fluid. He was holding his breath. Each movement seemed to be like a carefully executed ritual, a sacred dance, an act of something more than physical.

She breathed on him. His cock jumped in her hands. She whispered in her own language, words he did not understand - but they seemed to him like some mantra, a charm, a secret rune that lifted the moment into an entirely different plain. Her hair bathed him; she wrapped its silken curtain around his penis and the sensual overload was almost more than he could bear. For a moment he thought he would come, too soon, too hungry, too charged up with this woman, but she backed off, sensing his vulnerability.

Stepping away, she took his hand and led him to the bed where she lay before him, her legs parted and her fingers playing with the tender folds. "Come to me!" she whispered and he knelt above her, raising her tiny hips to wrap her legs around him as he eased down. She was wet, tight, perfumed, smooth. He entered and she relaxed and then contracted, relaxed and contracted, relaxed and contracted and he felt himself sucked inside almost without having to move; her muscles and control were formidable; he had never known a woman capable of that level of delicacy and strength. He had just read about it, unsure if it really existed.

He was no longer in control. She was. He just dropped his head and rutted, his buttocks clenched and grinding deep. But she was the one making love to him, even now in this most male dominant position. Her walls squeezed and pulsed, her body writhed and bucked; she was bringing herself to orgasm on him. It was a singular sensation.

The sudden orgasm and the rigid clenching of her muscles tight around his shaft made him cry out and then he came, spilling in a helpless stream, sobbing as he felt his body grow soft and the swirling blackness of pleasure possess him for longer than he ever remembered it before.

Hsueh was the most accomplished lover he had ever known; how long was it since he had learnt anything in bed from a woman? Falling to the mattress, he had been speechless in the aftermath; and she had been gentle and tender. Everything a woman should be.

He watched her rise from the bed and cross the room; she went into the bathroom and washed and then brought a warm wet towel and smoothed it over him, tending to him softly. He caught her hand "You don't have to do that. You don't have to serve me..."

She smiled secretively. "Oh, but I wish to. It is a part of the pleasure. To do the things we never allow ourselves in the lives we normally lead. Tonight I am your pleasure maiden. Another night - who knows? It depends what we desire. Desire, Terry. That is what we can explore together. I want a partner in a voyage of sensual discovery. One who is worthy of being all things a man can be..."

She did not ask him if he wanted that too. Was there any need for words? He pulled her against him and they rolled over in the bed. He was hard again already just listening to her talk. It was the first time in his life for longer than he could remember that he was acting on one instinct alone - desire. It was the one emotion that he was usually most capable of repressing.

But not tonight.

Not anymore.