PART ONE

Mel and Annie ran from the taxi to the door of the bar, dodging the puddles and holding their coats over their heads. What a way to begin a Friday on the town- like two drowned rats! The two girls might be flat mates but they rarely seemed to get a moment together these days and had both been looking forward to some female bonding and serious drinking. A night without men- Mel had assured Annie she would not be on the pull for once.

The bar was heaving and the tables were all taken. Mel pointed to two vacant stools at the long bar and they made a beeline for them. Securing their targets, Annie ordered a bottle of white wine while Mel fished around in her bag for a light. As usual she didn't have one.

"Annie- get some matches!" But naturally the bartender was already detained elsewhere and Mel was impatient. She turned round and nudged the man sitting next to her. "Got a light?"

He spun round "Sure, love" and flicked a box of matches along the polished surface of the bar. Mel picked them up, lit her cigarette and tilted her head in the direction of the owner of the matches, with that 'phwoar, get a load of that' look on her face. Annie glanced round her shoulder but only saw a leather jacket and shrugged.

"- you promised!  No checking out the talent tonight!"

"But this is prime beef, Annie."

"No!" The two girls laughed but Mel still whirled round and nudged the stranger's back.

He turned and Mel flicked the matches back. "Thanks. Do you want a cigarette?" Not the most original line but Mel didn't need to be inventive to get a guy's attention.  The man looked at her and smiled, helping himself. "Don't mind if I do, mate"

"Are you an Aussie?" Mel didn't waste time. She generally was on to their life history after five minutes.

"Yeah- how did you tell?" He lit the cigarette and squinted over the smoke at her, his blue-green eyes crinkling.

"Must have been your didgeridoo, mate!" Mel replied. 

Annie sighed to herself and drained the glass of wine. It had taken her less time than usual to pick one up- and this was her night off! Slipping from the bar stool, Annie excused herself- not that either of them noticed her- and made her way to the ladies'. Sitting in a cubicle, she rang Mel's mobile. It was a while before she answered.

"It's Annie. Don't apologise but I'm not up for gooseberry again. And if he's got a 'mate' I'm not interested. So I will invent a line and leave you to it." She hung up before Mel could reply. Wending her way back to the bar, she made as if she were on the phone, hanging up as she reached them.

"Do you mind if I make a sharp exit? Dave just rang. He's back in town and suggested a late dinner. Will you manage to get home safely?" Mel was smirking behind her wine glass, eyebrows raised.

"Don't worry, love. I'll have her in a taxi well before midnight." The Aussie thought he was a bit of a clever dick, did he?

"I'm sure you will, mate!" Annie stressed the last word sarcastically. She felt annoyed and cheated somehow, irritated that she had looked forward to the night out and it had turned into such a damp squib. Grabbing her coat, she plunged through the crowded bar and escaped into the rain. Nine thirty on a Friday night in central London and she was on her way home. And it was pissing down. And she didn't have an umbrella.

Half an hour later, drenched and even angrier she slung open the flat door and peeled off her wet clothing. Running a hot bath, she removed her makeup, her contacts and sat on the loo seat swirling her hands into the water, building up foam. Suddenly the tears started. 'This should not be my life. Something has gone wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this!' The image of Ben rose before her eyes and she squeezed them tight to try to dispel him but it never worked. Once he was there, he lingered and it took her time to force his memory away.

She climbed into the water and rested her head back. It was ten years ago. Ten years! Her first night at Uni and the freshers' disco. She had met a boy and he had taken her back for coffee and they had talked for hours until the connecting door to the women's hall was closed and she was locked out. For the first time in her life she had slept in a man's bed- he had slept on the floor. But she had felt decadent and amazed at how easily life could change from prim schoolgirl to free spirited student in a matter of hours.

She had loved him from that night and nothing had ever changed. They had been inseparable for three years and then moved in together when they graduated, much to her parents' shock and disappointment, but the young couple had stood their ground and the parents had backed down. Ben! She lay and recalled him; her memories were bitter sweet. Beautiful Ben. Tall, lithe and beautiful. A strange word for a man but true all the same. Like a young David. Thick blond hair, blue eyes and golden skin. Slender body, hard and lean, still with the last traces of boyhood but the maturity of a man. They had both been virgins and had discovered love together; it had been a great adventure.

He worked for a few years in a city bank and then took a year off to do his MBA- his rich Daddy could afford Harvard. Annie stayed behind to begin her PHD but they had planned to spend Christmas together in Boston.  They were always planning. Next year we'll tour the world and then we'll get good jobs and then we'll buy a house and then marriage, babies, the works. That should be now. Not this. Not Friday nights alone in bed before midnight.

"That's enough!" Annie forced herself from the water and dried herself roughly with a towel. "I will not think of him any more." She caught a glimpse of herself in the bedroom mirror. Her naked body surprised her; it seemed an unfamiliar thing, no more the object of pleasure and satisfaction that it had once been. Pulling on an old T-shirt and baggy PJs, she snapped off the lamp and tried to sleep. As she so often did, she pushed her hand below the loose elastic waistband and buried her fingers between her thighs. Closing her eyes she thought of a man, not Ben, some other nameless, faceless man who would fill her up and cover her from the past. Men like that did not exist except in fevered imagination; no real man could blot out what she had lost. The inevitable relief came and Annie cried out but it was not the same, a mere shameful imitation of how love should be.

PART TWO

"Is that coffee? Give us a cup." Mel darted into the kitchen in a T-shirt that barely covered her thighs.

"I didn't expect to see you until midday. Points out of 10?"

"Right off the fucking scale! I can hardly walk straight." Mel giggled holding her hands out graphically. " Like a baby's arm!"

" Please, Mel, spare me! It's too early in the morning for gory details.  I'm going to read the paper in bed." Annie was certainly not in the mood to hear about the Aussie and his equipment. Picking up the Guardian, she ran her eyes down the front page and made for her room. Just as she passed Mel's room, the door opened and a man walked out. It was the guy from the bar.

"Morning, love. How's Dave?" Annie frowned. What was he talking about? "Dave- the big date- last night?" Suddenly her lie came back to her.

"Great thanks. I'm sorry. I didn't know you were here."

"We thought we'd have woken you up. Made a bit of noise when we came in." He grinned and had the decency to look a little sheepish. Annie looked at him. He was only wearing a pair of denim jeans; unfastened at the waist with the zip half up. Why had she noticed that? Quickly raising her eyes, she glanced at his torso. He was broad and muscular with large biceps and knotted muscles, a light covering of light brown hair on his ample pectorals. It was an impressive sight but not the sort of guy she went for. He was probably one of those gym freaks, pumped up with steroids. Excusing herself she pushed past him in the narrow corridor towards her room.

"Bathroom?" he asked. Annie turned and indicated the door to his left. Mel appeared with a tray of toast and coffee.

"Mind if I take a shower first?" 

"Not unless you let me scrub your back!" Mel retorted and dumping the tray unceremoniously on the floor, she pushed him into the bathroom, her T-shirt already lying on top of the toast.

Annie shook her head and smiled to herself. I thought she couldn't walk straight? What that girl will suffer for pleasure! Mel was unique. She looked like a complete bimbo, a page three girl, a Fantasy Channel dream. Blonde, blue eyed and a body made for sin- who would believe she was a lawyer with a good brain and a promising career? She worked hard and played hard and seemed to have no need for commitment. Mel took life and lived it with no hesitation. Without her, Annie often thought, she would have retreated into a shell years back- but Mel kept her sane and in the real world.

Settling back in bed, Annie tried to concentrate on the state of the world but it was hard to do so. Her room was next to the bathroom. Mel's throaty laugh indicated the way things were proceeding, as did the occasional deep moans from her companion. Annie found herself wondering exactly what they were doing and felt a little ashamed of her eavesdropping. But they were making no attempt to hide what they were up to- so what could they expect her to do? Suddenly she heard a giggle, not Mel, she was talking. It didn't seem like the sound that he might make; it was boyish and excited, somehow innocent. How extraordinary- what had caused him to make that noise? Switching on the radio, Annie turned up the volume and then banged on the wall- "Give it a rest will you?" she snapped only to be answered by the unmistakeable sounds of orgasm and then silence. Well at least that was that- for a while.

PART THREE

"Fancy a bit of retail therapy?" Mel popped her head round the bedroom door.

"No money. How's He Man?"

"He left ages ago. Thought I'd go up the shops and treat myself to something. Come on, it'll be a laugh. We can have lunch and I'll tell you all about it."

"Thanks but no thanks, darling. Anyway I have so much work to do. Enjoy yourself!"

Annie finished clearing up in her room and went into the lounge to start work.  The place was a mess but she wouldn't let Mel get away with that- they would do it together later. Settling at the PC she applied herself to the paper she was preparing for next week. Lost in thought and struggling with a difficult translation, it took her mind a while to focus on the distant but shrill ringing of a mobile. She stopped and looked around. It wasn't hers; that was by the computer. Mel had probably forgotten her phone and was ringing to check it was at home. At least she had changed the tone from that dreadful  "It's raining men"- what did they think of her in the office?

Mel's room looked like the aftermath of a bombing raid. Not that it was ever less than a complete tip but even she had surpassed herself this time. The mobile phone was nowhere to be seen and the ringing had stopped. Turning to go, she looked up and shook her head as she noticed a pair of tiny knickers actually hanging from the light fitting. Annie grinned.  'What is that girl like?' There was hardly an inch of bare floor: books, files, clothing, cold cups of coffees, not to mention the remnants of breakfast and a bottle of white wine upended and still leaking out all over the carpet. As she bent to retrieve the bottle before it finally delivered the last vestiges of wine onto the floor, the mobile started up again.

Following the sound, Annie rooted down under the pile of sheets and the duvet hanging off the bed. First she found an empty pack of three. " Well, at least she was careful!" and then her hands touched the phone. Pulling it out, she realised it wasn't Mel's. This was one of those tiny WAP gadgets that cost an arm and a leg. Curious now, Annie answered.

A tentative 'hello'

"Mel? Did I leave the bloody thing at your place?"

"No, it isn't Mel"

"Shit! Do you mind giving me your address so I can pick it up?"

"No, it's not Mel. It's Annie. I take it you are..." She was about to say He Man and just stopped herself in time "the Aussie bloke?"

"Yeah. Great. I'll be round in half an hour. Cheers, love." He rang off.

The phone started up again. Annie threw down her glasses in annoyance.

"Yes. Who is it?"

"Terry? You been on the helium again?"

"Pardon?"

"Is Terry there? Put him on, baby."

"Who's Terry?"

"The owner of the phone. Perhaps he didn't get round to his name yet? Big, ugly Australian with an inexplicable skill at picking up skirt? Ring any bells?"

"He isn't here. Can I take a message?"

"Where is he?"

"How do I know?"

"What are you doing with his phone? Did you lift it while he was otherwise engaged? Clever girl- it's about time he paid for it for a change."

"I beg your pardon? Your 'friend' is on his way to collect his phone, which he lost and I have found. When he arrives I will tell him you called if you will be so kind as to give me your name so that I may then hang up on you, you ignorant American bastard."

A whistle. "Sorry, Ma'am. 'Fraid I jumped to conclusions. When you meet the owner you might forgive me for importuning your reputation. Just keep a table between the two of you and you'll be safe. Name's Dino. Tell him to get back to me immediately or I'll rip his fucking head off, or words to that effect. Thanks, honey."

Annie put the phone down and stared at it. It was the most peculiar conversation she had ever had on a mobile. Moments later, the bell sounded. Well, at least he was here and she would get rid of it.

"Yes?" She spoke to the intercom.

"Terry Thorne. The cell phone?"

Pressing the release catch, Annie grabbed the phone and opened the front door. The lift doors opened and he stepped out. For the first time, Annie looked properly at the man approaching her and felt a momentary frisson of something indefinable. Say what you like about Mel, she never picked a dud- well, not if you only rank them as physical specimens (or by equipment size, a topic close to Mel's heart). The casual thought pulled Annie's eyes down to his groin and she found herself unconsciously assessing him by the bulge in his jeans. His cheery greeting shocked her out of her reverie and brought an embarrassed tinge of red to her cheeks.

"Hi, Annie. Sorry about this. I'm expecting an important call."

"I think I've already taken it. Dino? Wants you to call him back asap or he is going to decapitate you with his bare hands - well that was the gist of what he said."

"Sounds like Dino. Hope he didn't make any embarrassing assumptions about you?"

"Well only that he thought I rented by the hour but I quickly disavowed him of that impression."

"Christ- you have to know Dino. He's actually quite civilised underneath!"

Annie handed over the phone with a grin and turned to return to the flat.

"Sorry, love, but there was something else. My wallet's gone as well. I had it in Mel's room."

"What? Does she frisk her fellas now?" Annie laughed, opening the door wider to let him pass. "Come in, I'll have a look for it. Was there anything else in your pockets I should look for while I'm there?"

The Australian grinned like a cheeky kid, arching his eyebrows." Yeah, but I think the packet's empty now!"

Biting on her lip to hide her amusement, Annie left him in the lounge and had another tour through the debris. Throwing the sheets onto the bed, she found a black leather wallet lying open on the floor, credit cards and currency strewn about; he must have been in quite a hurry, Annie smiled to herself. She picked up the contents and stuffed them back inside, unable to avoid a quick glance at a picture of a young boy, about eleven or twelve, clutching a trophy and grinning broadly. She recognised the grin; must be his son. Good job his wife hadn't called him, Annie mused.

Her foot slipped on something lying on the floor. "Shit!" she shouted and wiped the mess onto Mel's sheets. Hopping into the lounge she threw the wallet over at the man who was hovering around her computer screen. Annie wished he wouldn't read her work; it felt like an intrusion. " Catch!" He spun round and deftly bagged the wallet. 

"That's a relief. Bit of a wild night last night. My apologies again for disturbing you. Is there something wrong with your foot?" He tilted his head to one side and observed her.

"I stood in something slimy on Mel's floor." He winced and had the decency to blush. The awkward moment was broken by the sound of his phone.

"Yeah. Yeah I was just about to. Jesus, give me a break! Just a minute- Annie, have you got something I can write on?"

Annie found a pad and pen and he returned to the phone, taking down some details. She watched his hands as he wrote. They were large hands, thick fingered, the hands of a working man but neatly manicured. The pen looked minute in his grasp.

"Got it. I'll be there in an hour. Trust me!"

 He turned back to Annie and indicated the computer screen.

"What's that about?"

"Read the title."

"Contraceptive practice in the early Empire. Star Wars?" 

"Rome. I lecture in Roman History at the university, if you must know. Go on, say something funny- get it out of the way. No Gladiator jokes though- please. I've heard them all."

"Roman history? No shit? I used to love history at school. The only thing I ever did any work in. I've read quite a bit about Roman military history since. It's a bit of a hobby of mine."

It was Annie's turn to look bemused. "No shit?" she repeated and they both laughed.

"I have to go, Annie. Thanks again. I'll see you around. Watch your step, eh, love?" He flashed a cheeky grin and left.

Annie found herself at the window as he exited the building and pulled up his collar against the rain, running over to an old Jag parked across the road. Another surprise. She would have taken him for a flash Merc sports type not a restored vintage model. It seemed there was more to Mr. Thorne than met the eye. Much more.

Driving off, flipping on the wipers and cursing the British weather for the umpteenth time, he found himself thinking about the young woman. She reminded him of someone but he couldn't quite think who it was. Something about the way she spoke. It would come to him. He smiled, remembering her feigned annoyance and sharp tongue. I'll bet she gave it to Dino big style. Pretty girl, smart and feisty but something distant about her manner.  Beautiful eyes, almost violet- tasty butt too. Slow down, boy. You had enough last night -or was it this morning?- to last for a while. Don't get too greedy. Terry pressed the radio button and settled back, heading for the M1.

Annie let the curtains fall and walked to the large mirror over the fireplace. Just look at me!  She took in her baggy grey T-shirt and sweat pants, Ben's sweat pants, that she still wore around the house for comfort, the school ma'am spectacles and her hair pinned up any old way. He must have thought she was a real plain Jane, probably compared her to Mel. Guys always say the pretty ones have ugly friends.

Back at the PC, Annie read over her last sentence, trying to return her concentration to the task in hand and push away that slight feeling of disappointment that his departure had left her with. '...Archaeologists have yet to find conclusive proof, if such could survive the conditions of the ground, but there is some evidence to suggest the use of a leather condom. These may have been issued to soldiers; not as a contraceptive method but as a barrier against the ravages of venereal disease which must have filled the hospital tents of a fort as much as battle injuries.

With shock, Annie read the appended comment beneath her lines:

Progress report: use of Roman military condom

Pros:

-no clap
-re-usable (have you any idea how much soldiers spend on Johnnies?)
-useful on a cold night if you have to wear a skirt on duty?
-The senate couldn't put a hole in every tenth

Cons:

-reusable? 'Mum, will you just wash this out for me?"
-Torture- they call it sense deprivation in the army
-Passion killer- hard to shag a girl who's laughing hysterically
-Pain-They didn't have KY jelly - or did they?

Annie gasped when she read it and then burst out laughing. He had written it while she had been in Mel's room- as bold as you like. She highlighted it and went for delete but suddenly paused; she hit print instead. Slipping the sheet into the back of a file, she deleted the addition and tried to continue. However the vision of a certain Aussie and a large leather sheath kept crossing her mind - it was an image too hard to dispel.

PART FOUR

Wednesday nights were always a bugger. In these value-added days, university departments had to justify their funds by offering their services to the wider community and Wednesday was the evening when Classics offered 'popular' lectures in Greek and Roman history. It was the usual syllabus of gladiators, well-known heroes, mythology etc. Some of the audience were either complete nutters or absolute fanatics- the historical society equivalent of train-spotters. After an awkward session with two men who were fixated on turning every topic into a discussion of the Greek and Roman gay scene, Annie slammed shut the main door and headed off to the underground. She really needed the loo but it was only a few stops and she couldn't be bothered with the inevitable filthy station toilet.

Taking the escalator steps two at a time, she bolted up to the exit and down the street to the flat. Sighing with relief as she turned the key in the door, she headed straight for the bathroom. It was locked. "Mel, hurry up, I really need to go!"

Silence and then a loud gasp and the unmistakable sound of Mel in the throes of passion- she knew the sound well enough by now. "Shit!" Annie banged the door in frustration. What was is about Mel and bathrooms- or was He Man back? She noticed a smart suit jacket and tie lying on the couch and an expensive leather briefcase.

Grabbing her keys and bag, Annie ran back out and headed for the pub on the corner. If she didn't go soon she would have an accident. It was smoky and lively inside and she felt a little pang- must be nice to finish the day with friends in a pub, winding down with a few beers. Skirting through the crowds, she found the ladies' at the back with relief. Mission accomplished, she checked her face in the mirror at the washbasin, instinctively pulling out a lipstick and dabbing her lips. She didn't look too bad -although who was she doing it for? Maybe just herself- sometimes that was enough.

As she exited the ladies' room, a girl barged through, obviously drunk and about to throw up. The girl knocked Annie's arm and her bag skittered out into the corridor, emptying its contents on the floor. As she bent to pick them up, a guy walked out of the men's room opposite. She noticed him because at her eye level she caught the movement of his hand still zipping his fly. It reminded her of a joke survey that her friends had conducted at university. Sit by the men's room and notice how many men are still arranging themselves as they leave. Could you imagine women still hitching up their knickers in the corridor outside? It had usually driven them into hysterical laughter as they marked up the count and left men startled as to why they had elicited such a response from the pack of girls by the men's room door!

Crouched down in the passageway, there was not enough room for him to pass, so he stopped and squatted down to help her pick up the last few things.

"There you go, love." Annie's head shot up. "You! But I thought you were ..."

"Bloody hell- Annie, isn't it? " Terry Thorne took her hand and helped her to her feet. "I suppose this would be your local, wouldn't it?"

"Actually I hardly ever come in. I needed the loo..."

"As I remember -you have one down the road." Terry said, eyes twinkling, the memory of his bathroom games with Mel, no doubt in his mind.

"Yes well- appears Mel doesn't only hog it with you. Actually I thought it was you. That's why I was so surprised to see you here. Why are you here? What on earth would bring you down this end of London?"

"Fancy a drink?" Annie was about to refuse but what the hell? She had been envying people winding down with a beer- why shouldn't she?

"Okay. Just a quick one." They moved back to the bar. Annie noticed with slight 

annoyance that he stepped back to let her go first. She found a table and he went to get the drinks. As he walked across the room, she found herself watching him again. He moved gracefully for such a powerfully built man; as if he would be light on his feet, have fast reflexes. She wondered what he did for a living. He seemed to have money- the antique Jag was an expensive toy and the mobile phone had been one of those hi-tech ones that cost more than her entire PC. I'll bet he's a bit of a wheeler dealer- stocks maybe? But he had a sort of outdoors look that those stressed out office guys never have.

The bar was crowded but two waiters made a beeline for Terry- one female and one male, she noticed with amusement. So he's a gay icon type as well is he? He seemed quite happy to chat to them with an easy charm that left both with smiles on their faces. He won't charm me that easily Annie thought, suddenly aware of herself. I know the type- a bit of a chancer with the gift of the gab and a master's degree in shallow.

"Two pints. I like a girl who drinks pints. Means I don't have to keep going back to the bar." Terry placed the drinks down with a flourish and pulled up a stool. "Mind if I smoke?"

"No, of course not. Self abuse is always charming in a man." Annie tartly replied.

"Ho, ho- an activist type. Let me guess 'Green peace, Save the Whales and legalise pot- but only if you don't smoke it?"

"Sorry, did I sound like that? I was trying to be funny. Guess it's been a while." Annie was surprised at her apology. She didn't usually back down." He laughed.

"I'd have lit up anyway. I don't give a shit if you like me smoking or not. But my mother told me to be polite and I occasionally give it a whirl." And he bowed his head in mock courtesy.

He dragged on the cigarette and the conversation faltered. Annie searched for something to say.

"You didn't say what brought you down this end of the woods."

"No, I didn't, did I?" Terry smirked.  "Truth?" She nodded. "I've had a few difficult weeks and felt a bit low. Driving home, I recognised the area. Wondered if the luscious Mel was at home for a bit of relief therapy. Thought midweek night ? - give it a go, Terry! And I called in- but she... wasn't free."

"Tell me about it!" Suddenly Annie saw the funny side of it. "You mean you rang the apartment bell in the hope of a bit of free nooky and disturbed Mel in flagrante with some other bloke? Bet she was delighted to see you." Terry giggled- yes, it was clearly a giggle- she had heard that sound before.

"She nearly bit my fucking head off. Told me I'd missed my chance- she never gave seconds if she didn't get a quick response. Oh, and something tasty about going and fucking myself if I was so desperate. I got the hint. Just strolled over here and had a pint. End of story."

"She'll get over it. Give her a call when she has calmed down and she won't say no. You scored quite highly on the clapometer."

"The what?"

"Nothing - just a girl thing. Anyway. I must go. I should think the earth has moved by now and Mel will be more civilised. Thanks for the drink, Terry. See you around."

Annie gathered her coat and bag and stood up. 

"Wait. I'm at a bit of a loose end and I'm hungry. Have you eaten?" Terry looked up at her and she noticed a slight pleading look in his eyes. It was a bit like a puppy that wants to be taken for a walk; she almost expected him to whimper. Shaking the odd notion from her head, she found herself accepting the dinner invitation and they set off in the direction of a reasonably good Indian restaurant a few streets away.

It had started to drizzle as they left the pub and instinctively Terry protected her head from the rain under his jacket, pulling her towards him. He did it naturally without seeming to think about it yet it brought an intimacy that was sudden and unexpected. Annie felt uncomfortable and beguiled all at the same time. She felt the heat that radiated from him and smelt the clean, fresh musky smell that he exuded.

"It's OK. I'm used to the rain- I live in London!" Annie pulled away. He shrugged. It obviously didn't matter to him; he hadn't been making a pass, just being a gentleman. Annie felt mildly disappointed.

In the restaurant, they ordered and chatted: food they enjoyed, films they had seen, music, the usual safe topics. When she mentioned a recent film that everyone was talking about he said he hadn't seen it- he only caught films when he was flying, he never got time for the cinema these days. It seemed an appropriate time to satisfy her curiosity.

"What do you do for a living? Why so much flying?"

A guarded look immediately fell over his eyes and that open friendly expression disappeared. " I'm a consultant."

"Management?"

"No. I help companies with overseas operations, expatriates, that sort of thing."

"Help them with what?"

"Security." He didn't elaborate.

"Glorified bouncer then, a bit of hired muscle, are you?"

He relaxed and smiled. "Yeah- something like that." Well if he didn't want to talk, she wouldn't force him. It was none of her business anyway.

"What's your background? I mean what did you have to do to get into that sort of work?"

"I'm ex-army."

"A soldier? Jesus- I'm having dinner with a squaddie? I'll never live it down."

"An ex- squaddie, mate. Be fair." They laughed. "Anyway what about you? How does a girl like you get to be a professor?"

Girl like me? What did he mean by that? "I'm not a professor! I'm a lecturer. It's a pretty low form of life and you probably get paid more by the hour than I do by the month."

"Depends what I'm doing, love!" He retorted, the jaunty cockiness returning again but this time Annie realised that it was a front. There was something more to this guy than the brash Aussie exterior he presented to the world.

"Do I have to resort to 'debriefing' techniques to get it out of you?' he insisted. Life story now or I start on your finger nails!" his eyes sparkled as he swigged from a bottle of beer.

"It won't take long. Convent school, cleverest girl in the year, university, first class honours, MA, lecturing, just finished my PHD. That's it."

"That's not a life story, love, that's a CV. Life's not a job. A job is just what you do to pay the bills."

Annie squirmed at his perception. He might be guarded but she was in solitary; as usual when cornered, Annie attacked.

"So you have it all sussed, do you- Terry? Let's see- great job, obviously pays all your bills. Great life, too? Wife? Kids? Loads of friends? Social life? Hobbies? Well- respected member of your local community? Then what are you doing coasting the streets for any one night stand who might take you in? And I was referring to Mel there in case you are getting the wrong idea about tonight."

Terry sat back in the chair and looked bruised.

"Ooh, hit a nerve, did I? A right hook always works best, doesn't it? I subscribe to the same school of problem solving myself. " He laughed ruefully, rubbing his chin " but you're right. My private life's a load of shit. Take no notice of me. And I wasn't reading anything into tonight. I'm not a complete tosser." Annie had an urge to touch his face as if to caress the metaphorical blow he had taken. Change the subject, Annie, change the subject!

"That day you came for your phone. My PC- I read what you wrote. It was funny and clever. It made me laugh. I understand the military references now. A subject close to your heart?"

"What- condoms or army?" They laughed and the mood lightened. Food arrived and they tucked in eagerly, either out of hunger or a need for something else to do. The evening began to wind down and she felt that he was looking for a reason to leave- what more was there to say? It had been mostly pleasant but it was obvious they were very different and had little in common.

"I'm a little tired, Terry, and I have an early start tomorrow. Let's call for the bill, hey?"

The bill arrived and he threw down a credit card. 

"No, Terry. Let's go halves. I'd feel better about it."

"What?"

"I pay my own way. There's no reason for you to buy my dinner. You already got the drinks."

"No problem. It's nothing. My pleasure- pays for the good company."

Annie bridled. "I'm not an escort service. That's the point. I can't stand it when men take that automatic ownership attitude. Here's my share." She placed some cash down on the bill. He tossed it back and handed the card to the waiter.

"I guess I'm an old fashioned bloke. I ask a girl to dinner- I pay. No buts- OK?"

"No, actually, it isn't OK. You really are an arrogant shit, aren't you? Don't you listen to what people say? Or is it just women? I wasn't making a suggestion, I was making my decision."

"Thought I'd been listening to you all night, love. But I forget- it's all about assertive women and emasculated men these days, isn't it? Sorry, love, you'll never make a reconstructed man out of me. What you see is what you get. Don't like it- the door's over there."

"Christ- you are a fucking Neanderthal, aren't you? I should have read the signs. Opening doors, sheltering me from the rain and paying bills one minute and then blowing smoke in my face and macho posturing the next. Well it might get you into most girls' knickers but it won't get you into mine!"

"Love, I am not after your knickers. You're not my type." He smiled sardonically, his head tilted to one side, enunciating the words precisely. Annie blushed- he knew how to hit hard.

"Fine. Thankfully the feeling's mutual then. Great evening, Terry. Don't know when I've enjoyed myself so much for ages. Must enjoy self-abuse as much as you do. Warn me if you call on Mel- I plan to be out." She pushed the chair back and walked off, trying to appear cool but aware that her voice had had an edge of shrillness as it always did when she was angry and tears were on the way.

Terry slumped back into the chair and watched Annie storm out of the restaurant. 'What the fuck was that about?' He couldn't stand that politically correct crap that some girls threw at you these days. Didn't girls realise that their stick- up- the backside feminist attitude gave men more freedom than ever? You didn't even have to pay for the evening to get laid, just as long as you agreed with everything they said, put up with their anti-men remarks and gave them multiple orgasms. It didn't mean the blokes weren't knob heads all the same. 'Fuck me if I'm playing that game.' Terry thought.

He retrieved his card and noticed the cash she had left on the table. Leaving a tip, he pocketed the rest. 'Your choice, love,' he muttered and hit the street. Crossing the road, he kicked a stone out of his path and shoved his hands in his pocket. ' Shouldn't have spoken to her like that. Hurt her feelings. She was near to tears. Got to have the last fucking word, haven't I?' Terry berated himself as he made his way back to the car. He hadn't been trying to pull her; the idea hadn't even crossed his mind. It was just an opportunity to connect with another person on a lonely night when he didn't want to end up drinking alone again. But he had lied about her not being his type. She was exactly his type. But his type rarely looked twice at him.

Turning the corner to where he had parked, he noticed a group of young kids hanging round his car; one was working on the lock.

"Oi, piss off!" he growled at them.

The boys spun round; there were four of them, about fourteen or fifteen years' old.

"Fucking make us, y' twat!" one shouted.

Terry grinned and flexed his shoulders. "Are you sure you meant that, lads?" The four boys began to move round him, jeering.

"Fucking Aussie, eh? Think yer 'ard, do you?" 

'I'm going to enjoy this', thought Terry. 'Just what I need to clear my head.'

PART FIVE

"What happened to you last night? We got out of the bathroom pretty quick but you had gone!"

"I needed to pee. Went to the pub" Annie was sorting out notes and shoving them into her briefcase.

"You were gone for hours. I heard you come in- it was after eleven. You didn't half slam the door." Mel was sitting on the loo with the door open conducting her inquisition. Her 'friend' of the night before must have left.

"I met a friend and had a few drinks." Annie tried to sound casual.

She heard the chain and the sound of hands being washed. Then Mel scooted into the lounge.

"What friend? Who do you know that drinks there? Come on, girl, out with it!"

"Nobody local. Just someone I know vaguely."

"Bloke?"

"Yes. But don't get any ideas." Mel rubbed her hands together.

"Well? How did it go?"

"It was shit, if you must know. We had a row and I stormed off. I was still angry when I got in and that's why I slammed the door. Sorry."

"Oh, Annie. What on earth did you fight about? Can't you keep politics and the like out of things for once? Just talk a load of crap with them and massage their egos and they'll be massaging your g-spot in no time. Annie, you need to get laid; not win the school debating prize!"

Mel was shocked when Annie suddenly flopped into a chair and burst out crying.

"What's the matter, sweetie? Do you really like him?"

Blowing her nose loudly, Annie mopped herself up and looked up at her friend. Mel cared, despite her seeming indifference. She could trust her. In an unusual outburst of candour, Annie described her accidental encounter and the subsequent evening. It had been nothing, just a casual dinner but it had felt good - until she had taken umbrage for no real reason and messed the whole thing up. He must have thought her a complete head case.

"Why didn't you let him pay? You've gone out with men before and not made a fuss?"

Annie looked up at Mel. "You wouldn't understand. I'm not sure I do. I felt like he was just being nice to me, wishing he could find a way to finish the evening and escape. I wanted ....for a while there it had felt like a real date and for the first time in months .... I think I just panicked. It was a mixture of fear that he might reject me and fear that he might make a pass. He seemed so much in control. I would lose control with him and it scared me. On the other hand, well, as it turned out he didn't even fancy me anyway. I can't even pick up a lone wolf on the prowl!"

Mel sat awhile after Annie finally left for work. Terry Thorne and Annie-what a combination! But it somehow made a kind of sense. He was a really nice bloke and wouldn't hurt her; even Mel had recognised his sensitive side. Add to that the fact that he was a first rate fuck and would certainly clean out Annie's cobwebs. She didn't believe all that nonsense about him not fancying her. Thorne wasn't the kind of guy to spend a whole evening in the company of a girl just for a chat. Who wouldn't fancy Annie? The silly cow hadn't a clue about the effect she had on men.

On a whim, Mel ran into her room and rummaged around in her bedside drawer. She knew she had thrown it in here; she had thought it might come in handy if she was ever at a loose end. 'Got it' she said triumphantly. It was a business card. Must have slipped out of his wallet that night; she had found it on the floor when Annie had forced her to clear up the aftermath of their 'session'. Mel recalled the session in question with a tinge of regret. Pity- she would have liked seconds but Annie's needs were greater; that's what friends are for.

"Any questions?" Annie drew the lecture to a close with the usual offer but didn't expect much. Most of the young students before her in Archaeology I looked comatose, a combination of the fug of a November afternoon and the after effects of their social lives. There would be some nerd on the front row who invariably asked something completely irrelevant just to hear the sound of his own voice but she would soon slap him down. This time the question came from the rear, way back in the large theatre.

"Excuse me, Miss. I know it might be off the point slightly but did Neanderthal women wear bras- or had they already burnt them?"

The entire room burst out laughing and swivelled round to see who the joker was. Annie had no need to look. What in God's name was he doing there?

"Well, Dr. Dwyer- aren't you going to answer him?", queried a likely lad who had tried to work his charms on Annie a few times in the vain hope of improving his dreadful grades.

"No, Pete. But I might just call security." Annie raised her voice to ensure her comment was heard at the back. Terry raised his hands in mock fear and mouthed:  "Whoa-security!" She shook her head at the stupidity of his antics.

"Class dismissed." The room emptied quickly but Annie noticed the approving glances Terry was receiving from the girls as they filed out and the smirks that were directed in her direction. It might be all pretence but Annie derived a sneaking pleasure at the knowledge that they at least thought she could pull a hunk like him.

Terry remained leaning against the wall at the back of the lecture theatre, one foot placed behind him on the wall, his hands in the pockets of his coat. He looked good, dressed more urbanely than she had ever seen him before in a crew necked black jumper, black tailored pants topped by an obviously expensive grey wool overcoat. Gathering her notes and stuffing them into her briefcase she felt awkward and nervous, God knows why.

Waiting while she mounted the steps to the exit, he moved to the door and held it open for her with a flourish. Annie raised her eyes but accepted the gesture and moved through to the corridor beyond. It was thronging with students and staff. They strolled along in a silence that Annie found unbearable. She had to say something.

"I'm sorry about the other week. I was a complete div. Put it down to PMT or something."

Terry grinned. "Now there's a sexist remark if ever I heard one. You'd have floored me if I dared suggest that!" She stepped back as if to assess her chances. "Floored you? More like break all my fingers- but you're right- I would have had a swing at you! How did you find me? Why did you find me?"

"One at a time, mate. First- I was SAS remember. If I can track down enemy troops in the fucking mountains, finding a Roman history lecturer called Annie at London Uni isn't exactly hard work. Especially once I gave a brief description. Even the girls on the desk recognised you when I said 'nice tight little arse'."

"You said what?"

"Only joking, love. That's just what I was thinking."

"I'll ignore that. Second question?"

Stopping dead in the middle of the crowded corridor, Terry took her arm and moved her towards the wall, out of the way of the traffic. Annie stepped back instinctively until she was leaning on the wall itself, Terry towered over her, one hand on the wall at the side of her head. For a moment he said nothing, just looked at her. Annie felt herself holding her breath.

"I was out of line the other night, too. You were right. I'm a control freak. And I don't like being told what to do by women. But I do pride myself on giving them a good time. So, Dr. Dwyer, how about it? Another chance to redeem myself?"

"Mr. Thorne- that is the most chauvinistic declaration of intent I have ever heard! Are you sure you haven't been beamed in from the 1940s? However at least it was honest. What you see is what you get, eh? OK. I accept. But watch your step, mate. I might be smaller than you but I know where your balls are. Get out of line again and I'm not taking any prisoners, soldier boy!"

He saluted. "Yes, ma'am!"  A pause. "Annie, I'm on my way to the airport. Should be away about three days, four days tops. I'll call you when I get back. I mean it, I will call."

"You don't have my number!"

"Want a bet?" Terry reached down and kissed her lightly on the lips and then walked off. Annie remained as if adhered to the wall, stunned by his sudden action.

"Dr. Dwyer? Is he your boyfriend? Bet you didn't meet him in the library!" Annie snapped back to the real world and saw Helen, a student whose thesis she was supervising. Helen was grinning broadly.

"You kids- you think you invented sex, don't you?" Annie retorted with a grin and strode off in the direction of her office, unable to keep a wide smirk off her face.

PART SIX

"Annie, is that you?" Mel called from the kitchen as Annie pushed open the door.

"Yeah."

"Where've you been? Do you want to eat? I'm making pasta."

Mel walked through to the lounge and found Annie dumping shopping bags all over the floor. They were all classy names. Annie? Shopping in designer stores? Annie turned round and Mel let out a shriek.

"Your hair! It's fantastic? Who did it?"

"Do you like it? I spent the entire morning at a salon up town. You have no idea how much money I have spent today. I feel quite faint. But I thought I might as well have the works.'

"The works?"

"You know. Hair, nails, waxing, the lot."

"Annie, since when do you get your legs waxed?"

"Wasn't just my legs." Annie said with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Bikini wax in December? That can only mean one thing. What are you up to? Or did you go the whole way- Brazilian's in style these days!"

"No, just a neat trim! So, I've got a date and I just might, I said just might, not come home tonight- so I thought I'd be prepared."

"Let me take out my crystal ball. I see a tall, broad shouldered man, could be from the Antipodes. Initials TT. Am I getting warm?" Mel's eyes were gleaming.

"How did you guess? I never said anything." Annie was amazed at Mel's intuition.

"Could be something to do with the message I took half an hour ago. It's on the pad. No need to run- I memorised it. 'Pick you up at 7.30. Terry.'"

"Is that all he said?" 

"Hell no, but that was the important bit. So you have just over an hour - what are you waiting for?"

"What am I going to do about my hair in the shower?"

"Take a bath."

"The steam will ruin it."

"Right. Desperate measures. Strip off, stand in the bath and I'll hose you down with the showerhead. Come on, Annie don't look like that, I've seen you naked. With what you're planning to do tonight with a bloke you hardly know, surely you're not worried about me seeing you in the buff?"

Moments later, the two girls were completing Annie's ablutions. Mel had screamed when she saw the final treatment that Annie had surrendered herself to at the salon. She had had her navel pierced and was sporting a tiny red jewel. It had been a spur of the moment act of lunacy, she said. She had wanted to show him that she wasn't completely predictable, that there was a wild child in there somewhere.

"I hope Thorne appreciates the effort. At least you can be sure he can deliver the goods. Good of me to do a test run for you, wasn't it?"

"Shut up, Mel. I'm trying to forget about your little session with him. It's a bit weird thinking that you and he... you know. I keep wondering whether he will instinctively compare us and I'll come a poor second."

"What! Give over, Annie. Get over this complex you have. You are a beautiful girl. When the red mist comes down, he won't be thinking about anything else but you, believe me."

"But look at me! I'm too skinny and I've no tits. He said I wasn't his type. He probably prefers the voluptuous type like you- big tits and curves, someone with enough to fill those big hands of his."

"Annie- they don't have one type any more than we do! Anyhow he won't be hung up on your tits. Believe me that guy's interests lie in a different area entirely- and you've got one of those, haven't you? Right, let's get you dried and dressed. It's nearly seven already."

"Should I wear a padded bra or this lacy one? I bought two 'cos I couldn't make up my mind. I don't want to give a fake impression."

"Annie! Calm down! Look, do you imagine that he is getting ready tonight, fretting about what to wear or whether his equipment is big enough? He'll be whistling, tossing on the aftershave, quick look in the mirror 'you handsome devil' and then out he'll go, not a care in the world and a night of passion to look forward to. They're all the same. Even the ugly bastards think they're God's gift, never mind the Terry Thornes of this world. Relax, enjoy. That's what he was put on this earth for- to pleasure us girls. Can't think of any other use for him than that!" Mel chattered away while Annie dressed and made up. She was comforting to listen to but Annie still felt a ball of tension in her gut. What was tonight going to be like?

Terry stepped into the shower and let the full force of the jets wash over him. It was a long time since he had felt this jumpy about a date. Nervousness was not a state he was used to. In his line of work it was counter-productive anyway. Turn tension into adrenalin, think clearly, plan for every eventuality, above all stay calm and don't think negatively. Deal with everything as and when it happens. How could he do that with Annie? He simply didn't have a clue how she would react to anything. His finely tuned radar for reading the minds of women was completely useless with her. 'I'll say something smart-arsed and she'll fly off the handle. Or I'll push it too soon and she'll back off.' He found himself banging his head against the cool tiles of the shower. Suddenly the image of the last time he had felt this nervous came into his mind. 'Fuck. Alice. Don't let me mess up this time,' he whispered to some unseen spirit as the water ran cold and he flipped the lever.

Throwing down the towel, he looked up and caught his reflection in the mirror. Wonder what she would make of him? Most women were complimentary when they saw him naked, turned on by the sight and feel of his large boned frame and muscularity. Not to mention his dick. 'Thanks, Dad', he smiled and looked skywards. "I owe you one!' But who could tell with Annie? The thought of her slender body gave him a frisson of desire. He wondered what she would look like naked. Her skin was creamy white and fresh, blush red cheeks in the autumn air, he remembered that from the walk in the rain that night, a little red nose from the cold. Black shiny hair, curls trying to escape from the pony tail or topknot and those eyes, so deep blue they were almost violet. What was she like beneath those severe trouser suits and baggy sweat clothes she seemed to favour? Nice butt, he'd observed that already- but the rest? Creamy white, small-breasted, rosebud nipples? He groaned to himself as he reached for his clothes. Was the hair between her legs shiny and black like on her head? Was her pink full mouth an image of what lay below? His erection began to harden and he willed himself to think of something else. 'Down, boy, down! Tonight is not about that. Tonight is about finding something real, something with a meaning. She's a keeper. Don't let me frighten her away!'

Dead on 7.30 the bell rang. "That's the army for you!" Mel said. 

Annie ran into the lounge. "How do I look?"

"Million dollars! Go and give him some stick, girl."

Smoothing down her pencil skirt and shaking back her hair, Annie picked up her coat and bag, took a deep breath and opened the door. Terry was leaning on the lintel with one arm and he whistled when she stood before him. "So you do have legs, then?"

Annie gave him a twirl. "Will this do?"

He slowly swept his eyes down her; she noticed for the first time how long and thick his lashes were. "It'll more than do, love," he murmured, his voice suddenly low and deep. Annie felt its sonorous timbre somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach; say something quick before your knees go, she thought.

"You scrub up pretty well yourself, Mr. Thorne!" He smiled and she stepped out, enjoying the way he moved back to let her go first and then remembering that it had used to annoy her. As they waited for the lift, she looked shyly at him. He did scrub up well. He looked - sharp. Sharp shave, sharp suit, sharp haircut- a sort of 'no-nonsense' masculine style which gives the impression of effortlessness but actually reveals attention taken and a desire to please. I wonder if he uses a blade or an electric razor, she mused, to get such a close finish? Again she was amazed at the stray notions that proximity to this man brought to her mind. It was as if everything about him betrayed the overwhelming masculinity he exuded and the more time she spent with him the more compelling her observation of him became. He was like an animal under the gaze of a scientist; every facet of his behaviour was worth noting.

They reached the car making small talk and both beginning to relax. Annie stroked the elegant bonnet and whistled at the plush luxury of the interior.

"Nice car!" she purred in a fake American accent.

"Yeah. Dolly's a bit of a hobby of mine, the only sheila that never lets me down. Well, only on very cold mornings, anyway, but I soon get her warmed her up! It's a bit of a speciality of mine!" Terry grinned and gave her a suggestive sideways look.

"I'll ignore that, Thorne. But Dolly! She deserves a classier name than that. But imagination obviously isn't one of your strong points, is it?" Annie retorted.

"You wouldn't say that if you'd tasted my speciality!" he quipped straight back.

"Watch your balls, Thorne- remember I take no prisoners! But seriously, I love the car, says a lot about you. I like people who appreciate old things and know their worth. I am an historian after all. Shows you've got hidden depths."

She observed his reaction and read pleasure on his face. He had enjoyed the compliment and didn't hide behind a smart comment this time; she had said something right for once, she realised with relief.

There was a dossier of some sort in the side door compartment. Annie idly pulled it out and looked at it.

"What's this?"

"Says PRIVATE on the front."

"Touchy-I only asked!" Annie was a little surprised at the sharpness of his putdown.

"Sorry. Just business."

"Yeah- so was the paper I was working on the day you came for your phone."

"Fair dos. But you are a nosy little bugger, aren't you?"

"And you aren't? Make that big nosy bugger in your case! I'm an historian, it's my job to ask questions and find answers. Put things together and work out what went on. Can't help myself."

"Maybe we are in a similar business after all. It's a potential client. That's where I was last week."

"Potential? Haven't you clinched the deal yet? Frightened they might go for someone else?"

"Oh, the deal's mine alright if I want it. But, frankly, I wouldn't touch it with a very long stick." Terry replied cryptically.

Pulling up in a side street, they parked and sauntered up to the main road ahead. It was a clear early December night but very cold. Annie shivered and pulled her coat around her as the wind hit her in the face.

"Cold, love?" Terry took her hand in his; it was warm and he rubbed her fingers between his as they walked along. It felt natural although neither of them spoke.

The restaurant was not one Annie was familiar with. It was obviously very exclusive; the type reviewed in the Sunday supplements, all wood, chrome and glass, very minimalist. Relieved to be out of the icy blast, even this temple to cool and modernism seemed warm and inviting.

"What do you think?" Terry asked.

"You're a flash git, Thorne."

"And you are a bugger to please -but I swear by the end of tonight you'll be more than satisfied, darlin'."

"Promises, promises. Let's hope you're not all talk then, shall we?" It was the first time Annie had openly acknowledged where she hoped the night would end.

At that moment a young woman came to show them to their table in a quiet corner by the window wall, a view of the river before them. The girl's wide smile was directed at Terry; she gave Annie a casual once over with one eyebrow raised when his back was turned. 'Bitch', thought Annie,' but he's with me not you!' and she returned the look with a sardonic stare that clearly said, " Piss off, honey, he's mine". She hadn't expected to feel so proprietorial about him and it reminded her of the sarcastic accusation about automatic ownership that she had levelled at him in the other restaurant. Were men and women as bad as each other when it came to Neanderthal responses to their rights of possession? An interesting notion, she mused.

"Anybody in there?" Terry brought her back to the real world. " Drink? Pint of bitter?"

Annie laughed. "Not tonight, I think. Gin and Tonic, please." He ordered a Scotch on the rocks and they perused the menu. It was very eclectic but tantalising, a mixture of fusion and traditional, something quite different. The drinks arrived and they discussed the food, both fancied fish. Suddenly something struck Annie.

"There are no prices on this menu. How can they do that? Are they just going to make a figure up at the end of the evening?"

A chuckle from across the table. "Your menu has no prices, love, but mine has. That's the way they do it in the real world, mate." He leaned towards her. " You know, the real world where blokes pay the bill? Don't worry, though, if you insist, I'll let you pay your half at the end." His eyes were twinkling.

"No bloody way, mate. I can't afford these prices even if I don't know what they are."

"Typical modern woman. Selective principles. On your high horse when it suits you but want the traditional treatment when it doesn't. Tut, tut- what would the Feminist Alliance think of you now?"

"Au contraire, Mr Thorne. Last time I wanted to pay because it wasn't appropriate for you to pay. Tonight, however, it is. This is a date- there is a distinct difference."

"Only in the strange world of female logic. Still at least if you burn a whole in my wallet, I can expect my money's worth later, can't I? Isn't that the usual deal in the mating game?"

"With these shoes on, Thorne, I wouldn't kick you in the ballocks from here- I'd spear you. Be warned."

"Ouch. Consider myself yellow carded." The waiter returned and took their order; Annie chose a salad followed by turbot; Terry winced as if the price was very high. He mouthed the words "blow job" across the table and Annie raised her shoe and pressed the stiletto lightly against his groin. Ordering soup and monkfish, he handed back the menus with a request for a bottle of Pouilly Fume and the man withdrew.

"I should warn you that your shoe is not having the desired effect. In fact rather the opposite. Good job there's a long table cloth." He raised his eyebrows and giggled. That giggle! It just blows me away, she thought.

Feigning irritation. She lowered her leg and he groaned. "Do it again, love!" 

"Shut up, Terry. The woman on the other table's looking at you."

"Maybe she'll oblige then!" It was impossible not to flirt with him. He made her laugh and feel sexy all at the same time. It was like being with a cheeky schoolboy who inhabited a man's body, a dangerous combination. She realised he had changed the subject.

"You know, you reminded me of someone when I first met you. Couldn't quite think who it was. It came to me the other day." Terry swirled the ice in his scotch and drained the glass.

"Well- don't keep me in suspense. Who is the fabulous creature?"

"Listen. Hear me out. Don't jump down my throat at the first word."

"I'm not going to like this, am I, Terry?"

"Promise me, you'll let me finish." Annie nodded. "My Mum."

"What!! Jesus, Terry, thanks a bloody lot." He held up his hands.

"Wait, wait, wait! I haven't finished. She's from the north. Of England, I mean. Not physically like you or anything..." Terry grinned at the thought of the difference between this delicate beauty and his raw boned mother. "but sometimes you sound like her. That northern accent. The way you just fight back and won't let me get away with anything. My mother is the only woman that I have ever known who could handle me- until I met you that is. That's what I mean." And as an after thought. "I don't have any pervy Oedipal tendencies, if that's what you are worried about- it's one of the few things you couldn't accuse me of actually!"

"Oedipal tendencies. That's a bit heavy for you, Thorne!"

Before he could reply the entrée arrived and they began to eat.

"So you've got a Mum. What about the rest of the clan? Father? Brothers and sisters?"

"The lot."

"Tell me about them then."

"What's to tell?  My Mum came from Wigan in Lancashire, married a big Irish fella she met here and emigrated on one of those twenty five quid jobs in the sixties. Three brothers and two sisters."

"There are six of you?"

"Irish Catholics. Like sex but not the pill."

"So you're a Mick are you? I should have guessed with those shoulders. Either that or a bloody Viking.  Four sons! "Oh, Mrs. Thorne, have you anymore at home like him?" she said, paraphrasing the old music hall song. "Poor woman. No wonder she had to be tough."

"Too right. We gave her a helluva time. But she gave it back. She could punch like a prize fighter."

"Do you see much of her?" Terry's head dropped; he played with the food on his plate.

"She died a few years ago. Cancer. Smoked like a chimney." He looked suddenly overwhelmed and took a deep breath; she had touched a very raw nerve.

"I'm sorry, Terry. It didn't occur to me. You were very fond of her, weren't you? Dolly isn't the only girl who never let you down, is she?" He smiled ruefully. " Too right." There was a pause and thankfully a waiter removed their plates. Terry filled her wine glass trying to mask his sudden lack of composure.

"Bet you were the baby." Annie whispered quietly looking up at him tentatively.

"Christ- is it that obvious?"

"Yes, Terry. Just a Mummy's boy trying hard to act tough." Their eyes met across the table and they stared at each other. It was as if they were seeing each other for the first time, the first real connection.  Even when the main course arrived and the waiter fussed around they continued to contemplate each other without embarrassment. Annie broke the stalemate first.

"I'm from Manchester. There's my Mum and Dad, retired, and a younger brother and sister. She's a teacher, he's an engineer, works in Saudi. And I'm a Mick as well, so we have something in common. Second generation, working class Irish Catholic. Dwyer?"

"I thought so. Didn't get Manchester - you're too posh now! Thought they all sounded like Liam and Noel in Manchester 'think yer 'ard. Are yer up f'r it? Gagging f'r it, are yer?'." He made a passable attempt at a Mancunian accent.

"There's more to Manchester than Oasis and Coronation Street, you know. Expect you've never seen Coronation Street, have you?"

"Want a bet? Mum's favourite programme. Kept her in touch with home. Manchester, eh? So you like the girlie game, then, do you?"

"The girlie game?"

"Footie. Soccer."

"The girlie game?"

"Yeah, load of pooftas with Gucci football boots rolling around if anyone so much as leans on them. Beckham, Giggs- aren't they sheilas?" He pouted across the table.

"Whereas I suppose you like rugby? Real men, eh, biting bits out of each other in the scrum. Actually I always thought there was something a bit homoerotic about rugby. They do like to get up close and personal in those scrums- always seem to have their faces up someone else's bum."

A laugh. "I wouldn't let a typical Rugby bloke hear you say that, love. Not unless you can outrun him anyway! I used to play a lot in the army but my first love's Aussie rules. Real football."

"Isn't that the game where big muscly blokes wear kits a few sizes too small and can't decide whether they are playing rugby or football?"

"It's a little more technical than that but I suppose that's not bad for a pommie sheila."

Annie glared and kicked him under the table.

"To answer your question - yes I love football, soccer to you, and you better not diss United in my presence if you know what's good for you. It's my other passion."

"Other? What's the first? We might have more in common than we realise!"

"History. The Romans. The day job, you remember?"

The rest of the meal passed off in easy chatter. Annie had wanted to ask him about the boy in the photograph in his wallet. It had occurred to her that he might be married but if he were, his wife mustn't see too much of him. He was always either travelling or cruising it would appear. Didn't sound like much of a marriage and he had made that comment about his private life being shit. On consideration she decided not too delve any further. He had been open enough and would tell her when he was ready. If he were married- too bad! She wasn't passing her chance with him up for anything; her principles could be on hold for the time being. As for honesty- well she hadn't actually been honest herself, had she?

Dinner over, he seemed to be in a rush, refusing coffee and liqueurs in such a way as to make it difficult for her to object. There was the macho side again, expecting the little lady to fall in with whatever he wanted. But she decided not to make a fuss. Perhaps he was simply eager to get her alone. Annie wasn't prepared to fight against that.

He paid the bill and they made their way out, back on to the street and the icy cold. This time he put his arm around her; Annie did not demure.

"Where to now, Terry?" She looked up at him, a hesitant note in her voice.

"It's a surprise." He drove across the city to a more dubious district; Annie wondered how safe his expensive car would be parked in the street where they stopped. Indicating a flickering sign ahead, he led her down a staircase to what appeared to be a sleazy strip club or the like.

"Terry?"

"Trust me."

The doorman admitted him with a grin. "Terry- long time, no see. How've you been, man?"  Intrigued she followed him in, holding his hand like a little child. Inside, the room was smoky and dark with the unmistakeable haunting sounds of old time jazz. It reminded Annie of one of those Parisian nightclubs in the fifties that you see in old movies. A melancholy trumpet soared out 'Easy Living', mellow and slow.

"What do you think?"

Annie looked around."Perfect."

"Told you I'd satisfy you before the night was out", he whispered in her ear.

Settled at a corner table, they ordered drinks; hers a scotch, his a mineral water, much to her surprise. " Driving, love. Over the limit already, probably," he remarked at her query. A large black woman began crooning an Ella Fitzgerald number, couples were moving on the dance floor.

"Dance?" Terry asked.

"You dance?"

"Like fucking Fred Astaire!" he replied. "OK, Ginger, let's do it."

He took her hand and led her to a corner of the floor. Pulling her against him, they began to move and she remembered that impression she had had that he would be light on his feet. He could dance and he felt like a man should feel in her arms. His hand rested gently at the base of her spine, exerting just enough pressure to guide her round and also to loosen the last vestiges of her self-control. With her hand on his shoulder, she dared to touch him for the first time, idly stroking his neck and the base of his hairline, just above his collar. Annie felt him flex slightly at her touch and he let out a slight sigh.

"Want to take this up a notch?" he dared. Annie nodded and he swung her round, now really moving across the floor, easily and with grace.

"Where did you learn to dance? Don't tell me they have classes in the army- some special training for winning over enemy females?"

Manoeuvring her into a corner, he slowed down, still holding her to him but now just swaying in time to the music; Annie felt her body rhythmically follow his movement.

"My Mum. She loved to dance. My Dad, being a big Irish bruiser, preferred propping up bars. At Church dances, she took her sons on the floor. Gave us lessons at home. She said I was a natural. My brothers gave some ribbing for it, I can tell you. But it has its uses. What about you? Thought you bluestockings had no time for ballroom dancing."

Annie giggled. "Ten years of ballet, jazz and modern. Never imagined that I'd ever seriously put it to use. I've only just begun to understand how sexy real dancing is. I mean, I learnt with a girl as a partner and sometimes one of the boys in tights. As you can imagine, it was a rather asexual experience!"

Terry smiled and raised his hand to her hair, pulling her up to him as he brushed her face with his own. He traced a line along the side of her temple with his nose and nibbled her ear. She felt a pulse beating in her neck and blood pounding in her brain; she was not sure if she was still breathing. His lips found hers and he kissed her, gently but insistently, opening her mouth with his tongue and tasting the inner surface. As Annie responded, he explored further, beginning to use more force, his breath shallow and heavy. Just when she thought she would faint from lack of air and the weakness in her knees, he pulled back and resumed the gentle sway, holding her against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong and the desire to touch his naked flesh seemed so urgent, she could hardly restrain her hands. He, on the other hand seemed content just to hold her. There was something erotic but innocent in his manner.

The music stopped and they broke apart. Back at the table, they nursed their drinks and watched the other couples, listening to the saxophone and its sensual runs, Annie laying her head on his chest while he stroked her hair. For once neither seemed inclined to talk, wrapped in their own thoughts but aware of each other. Annie was imagining what came next and how it would be. In her mind's eye, she was in his apartment, still moving in his arms but now free from the gaze of others. Her hand reached for his tie and she loosened it and pulled it from his collar with her left hand while her right slowly unbuttoned his shirt and she buried her face against his naked chest, nuzzling his nipples. She could almost feel his hardness pressing against her and imagined slipping her hand to his groin and massaging him as he ran his hands along her thighs and eased down her satin thongs....

"Time to go, Annie." His voice seemed to travel from far away and brought her back to the club. It took a few moments for her to reorient herself, so strong had the images been. With a shy smile, she took his hand and followed him out, revelling in the way he wrapped her in her coat and guided her out into the cold night air. The car was still where they left it, even he seemed a little relieved at that, and they drove off, the radio playing some love song. Annie watched him drive and leaned back on the seat, suddenly sleepy. He glanced across.

"Tired? We'll be home soon."

Home. It sounded good. Two o'clock in the morning and she was going home with this man and it didn't seem anything but natural and right. The car rolled to a stop and he jumped out, rounding the bonnet and opening the door for her. She stepped out and realised with a sudden jolt that she was home. Her home.

"Terry, I don't want you to ..."

"I know, love. I won't come up. Too many awkward memories; not right somehow tonight. But I'll see you in." Annie felt confused. What did he mean? Wasn't he staying?

"I didn't mean that. I just thought you would want to.... I mean I want you to..."

"Stay? Sleep with you? No, Annie. It's too soon. You're not ready yet."

"But I want you, Terry." She ran her hand down his chest and rested it on his genitals, stroking softly. He covered her hand and equally gently moved it away.

"And I want you. But not yet. Not yet." He kissed her lightly and opened the apartment block door.

"Goodnight, Annie Dwyer. Sleep tight. I'll call you tomorrow." And he was gone.

Upstairs, Annie let herself in and flopped down on the couch in the living room, lying in the dark, head spinning and nerve ends jangling. The light went on under Mel's door and she knew her friend was wondering whether or not she was alone.

"It's alright Mel, you can come out. There's no one here."

Mel hurtled out, concern on her face. Seeing Annie slumped in the dark only increased her confusion.

"What happened? Don't tell me you had another fight? Did you lose your nerve? Where is he?"

Annie took a deep breath and said: "It's fine, Mel, calm down. I had a wonderful evening. But he didn't want to come in."

"What? Did you ask him?"

"Of course I did! But he said no. Don't look like that, Mel. He was right. This isn't just some easy sexual encounter for either of us. We both need to take this slow. It will come in its own good time and when it does you better batten down the hatches because I fully intend to move the earth on its axes. But not yet. Not yet." She smiled to herself.

Mel rocked back on her knees. "I'll never understand you, Annie.  Not only can you not get laid by the best fuck in town but you turn him into Prince Charming and have him courting you like something out of a Jane Austen novel. What is it with you? Well, at least I can hold on to my ace for a while longer"

"Ace?"

"I know how big his dick is!" And with that, she ran back to bed.

Annie covered her face with her hands 'Well, if my wandering hands are any judge, I have a pretty shrewd idea of that already', she smirked to herself and then, picking herself up, she went to bed.

PART SEVEN

A phone ringing constantly somewhere in the distance. Why did no one pick it up?

'Pick up the friggin' phone, will ya?' The phone's jarring tone continued. Terry rolled over and woke with a start. Five a.m. He had been asleep for two hours.  He leant over and snatched up the receiver.

"Fuck off, Dino" and he hung up. Slumping back into bed and pulling the covers up he tried to settle. The phone started up again. This time, he picked up the whole set and flung it at the wall, ripping the cord from the socket, and threw himself back against the pillow. Silence. His cell phone began to buzz from somewhere in his jacket pocket over on the chair. Moments later he heard the other line in his office downstairs start up. With a roar, he jumped up and lunged for his jacket.

"I am not here. Leave a message."

"Terry, wait. This is important. Don't hang up."

"Go fuck yourself, Dino. It's fucking 5 am and I'm freezing my tits off standing here."

"Stop whining. You've had enough sleep."

"I didn't get to bed till 3."

"Lucky you. Unfortunately she'll have to miss the morning service. You're booked on the 8.30 to Charles de Gaulle- I'll be waiting. Get a move on- you've just got time for a shit, shave and a shower- so get that cute ass moving."

"Like shit I am. I'm on leave as of now. It's nearly bloody Christmas and I'm taking some time."

"Not so fast, Santa. Terry, this is big. The African client- the shit has hit the proverbial- I'm already in Paris and I can't do this one alone."

"I told you we're not touching it. It's a fucking swamp. Too bloody dangerous. Not worth the risk. Remember- no more Boy Scouts, you said. I'm finished with fucking Mission Impossible. I notice there's no sign of Luthan or Inherent trying to steal this one from under our noses."

"The status has changed. Do you ever pull your nose out of the sack for long enough to watch the news? Morimbe lost the election. Everyone's celebrating but look who's missing? Terry, the bastards have N'Garno's daughter. She's ten. If N'Garno doesn't stand down and hand over the power.... Morimbe's a piece of shit and he has a taste for young flesh. Very young. They're keeping it under wraps for the moment; the press haven't got wind. N'Garno says he will withdraw but there's just one chance. The Brits and my lot are offering to suck our dicks if we bail them out. This could be the big one."

"What's this got to do with us? Dino, I thought I was the soft one. It's their fucking problem, not ours."

"Morimbe contacted us for a security audit. He wants to see us, give us the run of his fortress in the mountains. We can get in, Terry, we can get to the kid. There's no one else who can - he won't let his own wife near him at the moment. Terry- it doesn't matter what N'Garno does. If Morimbe is reinstated- what chance does the little girl have? Think he'll simply pat her on the head and send her back to Mummy and Daddy?"

There was a silence on the end of the line. "Fuck you, Dino. I'll see you in Paree."

Hours later, Annie woke and lay back, stretching like a sleepy kitten, purring like one too. She put her hands behind her head and recalled the night before, slowly. Scene by scene. The ringing of the phone made her jump but she snatched it up eagerly.

"G'day mate."

"Terry?"

"How many blokes are you expecting this morning?"

"Dozens. Sleep well?"

"I've had better. You in bed?"

"Yeah. Just woke up."

"What're you wearing?"

"My pyjamas."

"Christ, Annie, do you understand the concept of phone sex? Make it up, love"

She giggled. "OK. Let me think. Black silk basque trimmed in red, suspenders and sheer black stockings. Did I mention the crotchless knickers?"

"Slow down. I'm still on the basque."

"What about you?"

"I'm not in bed."

"Make it up!"

"Annie, I'm in the middle of the business class lounge at Charles de Gaulle airport- have a heart, love."

"Chicken. I dare you. Give me something to think about while I'm lying here in my little satin panties..."

Terry moved over towards the window and cupped the phone.

"According to Cosmopolitan, this one always works. I'm wearing a blue tunic, leather cuirass and arm guards. Someone has chained me to a wall and I'm tired, sweaty, bloodstained and entirely unable to defend myself. Will that do? Thought you might appreciate the Classical theme."

"Are you wearing a loincloth?"

"Not if you don't want me to. A long pause. "I'm still here. Just beam back to the present for a minute."

"Give me a minute. I don't expect you'll last much longer than that with what I'm doing to you. Terry, did you just say Paris?"

"Yeah, love. It's a bit complicated. Something's come up. I have to be away for a while. Annie, you know I wouldn't do this if I didn't have too, don't you?"

"How long will you be gone?"

"Maybe a week, maybe longer. It depends."

"Depends? On what?"

"I can't talk over the phone. I'll ring you when I get back. As soon as I get back. I promise. But Annie, I need you to do something for me. I know it's a bit of an imposition but I'm desperate and there's no one else I can ask."

"Shoot, Terry. You know I will, anything, just ask."

He paused and she heard a sigh. "Annie, there's lots of things you don't know about me. I have a son. His mother and I are divorced. Thing is, it's bloody nearly Christmas and I promised him I'd come down this weekend to see him. His school breaks up and they have a charity rugby match on Sunday. I told him... I swore I'd be there this time; take him out after. Celebrate Christmas early. She won't let me near on the day- says its family time. I don't know what the fuck she thinks I am..."

"Terry. What do you want me to do?"

"I bought him something. It's in my apartment. Will you get it and take it to him? Just in case I don't get back."

"What do you mean ' just in case you don't get back?' Terry- what exactly is going on?" Annie felt the hair on the back of her neck rise up. An uneasy sensation gripped her.

"I just meant, if I don't get back before Christmas. No worries- it's just a business trip. Can't afford to miss the deal. I've got an expensive bird to maintain." He tried to lighten the tone but for once he wasn't entirely successful. "I just need you to do this for me, please Annie."

PART EIGHT

Annie found the address after a few false starts. It was one of those renovated warehouses in Docklands, standing on its own wharf. The residents' parking area reflected the general property price range; this was serious yuppieland- a far cry away from a working class Sydney suburb. The foyer was stark, bare bricks and whitewashed stone floor, the new chic. Annie rode the lift to the third floor and stepped out into a similar corridor 'early prison cell', she thought to herself. Perhaps it reminds him of a barracks. There were two apartments; two identical steel doors facing each other. Terry's was on the right.

She had picked his key up from his cleaning lady after a complex series of phone calls and explanations. Mrs. O' Dowd was obviously suspicious and treated Annie initially like some crazed stalker who was trying to get into his underwear drawer. She might have been sixty if she was a day but the Thorne charm had clearly worked on her and she seemed to think it was her role in life to protect Terry from the loose women who wouldn't leave the lovely lad alone.

The key was finally released to her with a string of reminders about how she must leave everything and what she mustn't touch and here she was turning it in the lock, about to invade Terry's private world. The door swung back and she stepped in. It was a vast open space, high ceiling with rough, aged exposed beams. One wall was entire glass, giving out to a view of the water, the winter sunshine pouring in. The adjacent walls were whitewashed, one lined with books, the fourth wall bare brick and bearing the open staircase and wooden gallery that apparently led to the upper rooms. ' Just go to his room, retrieve the parcel and leave. You have no right to pry. He'll show you round when he's ready.'

Some chance.  Annie stepped into the hangar-like space of the living area, sparsely furnished apart from an enormous three-sided white suite and a large low teak table, probably Thai or Burmese. Apart from those, the hi-fi system (so advanced it could have doubled as the bridge of the Star Ship Enterprise) and a large flat-screened entertainment system, there was no other furniture. Everything was immaculate, no dust, no mess, more like a show room than a home. On the teak coffee table were a few tasteful objects: large antique Chinese bowl, lacquered boxes and a silver letter opener with a curious scorpion motif. Leafing through the ubiquitous coffee table books, she found some unusual choices: a collection of amazing black and white photographs of beautiful naked men and women against a desert landscape, in achingly erotic imitation of wild animals; an architectural guide on Le Corbusier; a copy of the Oxford history of the Ancient World.

Moving through, Annie spied the kitchen. It looked as if it had never been used apart from the cold cup of tea on the granite worktop. The theme was chrome and black; there was not even a splash of colour to contrast with the sombre elegance. A pile of mail was scattered on the worktop, mostly still sealed. Three items had been opened, all Christmas cards. It was prying but she couldn't help herself. One said 'from Maggie, Phil and the kids- Terry, are you still on the bloody planet? GET IN TOUCH!' It was postmarked New South Wales. Must be one of his sisters. The next was easier. 'Best wishes Michael, Penny, Harry, Charlotte and Georgie.   Make sure you are there on Sunday!' The ex-wife - you could tell by the depth of the affection that the curt lines didn't reveal.

Finally she opened the third. It wasn't the usual Christmas scene but one of those alternative types of Christmas card, painted by some third world artist and refraining from any mention of Christ or tradition. 'Thinking of you always. Ever grateful. Peter, Alice and Tess.' Client? Friend? Grateful for what? 'None of your business, Annie, my girl' she thought. Mrs O' Dowd would probably have a fit, but she stood the cards up along the open display shelf that was noticeably bare of any other display. A splash of colour amidst the black and grey.

The only other rooms on that level were a bathroom and an office. The office was functional and neat but the white board was a mass of scribbled messages, names and addresses, even crude jokes and pithy epigrams. Sort of stream of consciousness. Annie tore her eyes away; it felt like reading someone's diary. One wall was covered with photographs. Families with kids- obviously his brothers and sisters and their children, a younger Terry- with school friends, larking about; in the army, sitting on a tank somewhere hot, rugby line ups; arms round pretty girls. Annie's heart almost stopped when she saw one, his hair long and flopping onto his forehead, thick and brown, beaming and blue green eyes shining. He looked about eighteen, maybe less. 'Wish I'd known him then when he was still just an innocent kid. Mind you, how old was I then? Probably about nine or ten!'

Many of the snaps were of a young blond child, clearly his son, Harry. Terry holding him as a tiny baby, his face full of wonder at the sight of his little boy. A toddler; a little lad on a beach; sitting on Santa's knee; junior rugby squad; formal school portraits. But none showing a likely wife. 'Must be some real bad blood there!' Annie mused. One final Polaroid caught her eye, tucked in behind another shot. Easing it out, she scrutinised the girl.  Small, skinny, tousled blonde, a bit of a hippie from her clothes, very pretty. Very, very pretty. She was sitting on a kitchen table with fruit and vegetables lying about. The kitchen was a riot of vivid colour- about as different from Terry's kitchen as you could get; there were hideous gold wall tiles set above the work surface. Annie looked closer; they looked like scorpions. Whoever this girl was she looked tense, clutching a cigarette, her fingers clenched but staring at the lens and her eyes were fixed on someone, the cameraman, perhaps?

Carefully replacing the snap and feeling even more ashamed of herself, she ventured upstairs. Two bedrooms, seldom used, one must be the son's from the wall posters, a guest bathroom, white and pristine. Annie entered the master bedroom and smiled. So someone does live here after all? It was large, the floor of stripped pine stained mahogany. The bed was vast, a dark wood captain's bed, flanked by two oriental cupboards. The bedding was white and rumpled; mysteriously an entire phone set lay smashed against the opposite wall. Nearby was a mahogany tallboy, with drawers pulled out and clothes draped over the edges. He had packed in a hurry. The suit he had worn last night was lying on an easy chair, his socks, shirt, under wear, shoes tossed on the floor.  A wet towel lay in a sodden heap. 'So soldier boy isn't always Mr. Perfect!'

Resting on the tallboy was the gift, wrapped in Christmas paper and addressed to Harry. This was what she was here for. Annie tidied up the drawers and pushed them closed, picked up the parcel and left the room. Down by the front door, she found the car keys lying in a small bowl and pocketed them. He had insisted she use his car to drive to Oxford.

The drive took her longer that it should have done. She hadn't driven for ages and the car was powerful; it frightened her at first. She was even more concerned that Terry might return to find his precious Dolly in a fatal decline after she had pranged her on the M40. Annie knew Oxford well but the area she was heading for was outside in the leafy countryside fringing the Cotswolds. Finally she pulled up outside the school and breathed a sigh of relief, the effort of the journey having drained her.

The school was an exclusive private boarding school, set in vast rolling parklands, first endowed in 1857, according to the ornate sign cresting the wrought iron gates. One of those bastions of upper middle class privilege, a million miles away from the northern Comprehensive school Annie had attended. 'Well, I didn't do too badly. First pupil ever to get an Oxford exhibition!' But as always that lingering sense of inferiority that only the British class system can produce began chipping away at her self-confidence. Who is this woman he married? On what plane had they contacted?  'Bet Terry would never feel like that. I suppose Aussies just don't give a shit. They don't seem to have that anal side like us. Knowing your place, doffing your cap and all that shit."

'OK. So now I know where it is. Next somewhere to kip for the night.' It seemed unbelievable to Annie how far she had travelled in twenty-four hours, both actually and metaphorically. Following the road past the school, she pulled up in the next village at an old half-timbered inn; the sign said 'Rooms available'. It was six -thirty on a December evening, a bit early for the usual Saturday evening crowd. Slinging her little backpack over her shoulder, Annie took a seat at the bar and ordered a half. ' I believe you have rooms?' she asked of the barmaid, a cheery, buxom blonde of fifty odd.

"Certainly have, dearie. Just one night?" Annie nodded.

"On your own?" Another nod.

"If you just wait a sec, my hubbie will sort you out. I can't leave the bar at the moment." The door opened and a big bear of a man came in, black beard streaked with grey. "Beryl, Did Terry just come in? I've just seen his car in the car park."

Annie listened, fascinated. It was like being a detective investigating a missing person, piecing together their life. But it also felt like intrusion.

"No, Tom. I don't think so. If he did he hasn't been to the bar- and that's hardly likely, is it?"

"Well it's definitely Dolly. I thought he might be up for the rugby."

"Actually. I parked the car." Annie felt she owed them an explanation.

The landlord and wife turned and looked curiously at Annie.

"I borrowed the car. Terry's not here.  He mentioned this pub; I didn't know he was a regular."

"I wouldn't say regular. Sometimes we don't see him for months. But the bar sales usually go up when he's in town! My name's Tom Grantham, this is my wife Beryl. Pleased to meet any friend of Terry's." He extended his hand and Annie shook it warmly, suddenly relaxing and realising how keyed up she had been all day.

"Annie Dwyer. Nice to meet you."

She was shown to a homely room, low ceiling, wooden beams, tiny bull's eye windows. This was a genuine eighteenth century inn. The style was chintz and flowers. It was hard to picture Terry even standing straight in the tiny room, never mind tucked up under the floral counterpane. It made her smile to think of it. Returning to the bar after a quick shower, Annie ate a simple bar meal- steak and kidney pie and chips- and watched Match of the Day on the pub TV, chatting amicably to some of the local colour. It was amiable and non- threatening. She couldn't have imagined that happening in London or Manchester; someone would have hit on her by now. Or perhaps the word had gone round that she was Terry's girl?

One thirty Sunday afternoon saw Annie driving up the long entrance to the school, directed into a parking spot next to dozens of Beamers, Mercs, and Rolls, her edginess returning.  'What the shit am I doing here?' Wriggling into her padded fleece and pulling on her woolly hat and gloves, she locked the car and looked around, unsure where to go. A voice from the other side of the car addressed her.

"Terry?"

Annie spun round. The owner of the voice was an elegant blonde, hair immaculately coiffured, wrapped in a camel cashmere coat framed with a golden fur collar. The woman screamed class, money, confidence. Annie shrank, painfully aware that her jeans, grey polo neck, trainers and padded fleece, not to mention the woolly United hat and scarf, were not the expected couture, even for a rugby match. 'Damn.' The usual social gaffe that told them that you weren't one of them.

"Where's Terry?" clipped tones like crystal glass challenged her.

"He's not here, I'm afraid. He sends his apologies. I just came with his son's Christmas present. A favour." I sound like a complete halfwit, Annie thought.

"Who are you? One of his office girls?"

Annie bridled. 'The fucking bitch.' It was enough to kick start Annie's tongue.

"Hardly. My name's Annie Dwyer. Who are you? Harry's grandmother?"

You could almost hear the electricity crackling in the air. Before the woman could reply, the rest of the family appeared. A tall gaunt man, balding and hawk-like with glasses and that tweedy country look so favoured by minor royals, followed by a young boy and girl. The ice queen introduced them.

"Michael, darling. Appears Terry has had to send a replacement. Meet Ms. Dwyer. By the way, I'm Penelope Wilson- Smythe, Terry's ex-wife. Harry's mother." She extended a gloved hand in a curt handshake. "My second husband- Dr. Michael Wilson- Smythe and our children Charlotte and Georgie." They shook hands and acknowledged each other awkwardly. Annie decided to speak.

"Actually it isn't Ms. Dwyer. It's Dr. Dwyer."

"You're a doctor?" Ice Queen looked stunned.

"Not medical- academic. Reader in Roman History at London University, actually. What's your field, Mrs. Wilson- Smythe?" The knives were out. The woman ignored her question.

"I'm not sure what Terry thinks is the point of sending a messenger; he could have used The Royal Mail for that. Harry will be devastated again; he has been so looking forward to seeing his father. But I can't say I'm surprised. Pretty typical of my former husband. Not exactly the reliable type."

"He feels very bad about it. It was unavoidable. Something just came up today. Last night he had no idea...." Ice Queen lifted one well-groomed eyelid at the 'last night'.

"Please, spare us the excuses. I've been listening to them for fifteen years while I expect you have known him for about fifteen minutes. I'll give you a couple of weeks and you'll be as tired of his pathetic excuses as I am." Ice Queen swept towards the field, her family in tow. Annie, unsure what she was expected to do next, wandered in their wake and stood at a distance from the family who settled themselves in the stand.

Suddenly, a fair-haired boy broke away from the pack of players who were jogging round the pitch in the warm up. He ran over to the stand, trying to pick out his father from the crowd. Annie's throat caught. 'Poor kid. Couldn't Terry have gone to Paris tomorrow? Who does business at the weekend anyway?' Maybe Ice Queen was right. It was a pretty shitty thing to do to a kid and it was clearly not the first time he'd done it.

His mother spoke briefly to him and pointed Annie out. Harry looked over but made no move towards her. Annie walked to him.

"Harry, isn't it?" She held her hand out and smiled tentatively. My name is Annie Dwyer. I'm a friend of your father's. He couldn't come but he didn't just want to let you down. I came in his place to bring you your Christmas present. He hopes to be up before Christmas if he can, but just in case..." She left the words hanging. 'You don't deserve this Thorne'.  She was making a case for him but the words sounded hollow and false to her; she couldn't imagine how they sounded to the boy.

"Thank you, Miss Dwyer. It was good of you to come all this way. Dad's all right, isn't he? He's not doing anything dangerous this time, is he?" Harry's anxious face peered at her. Annie had no idea what he meant but for the second time in two days, she heard warning bells. Dangerous? This time? What the hell did Terry do for a living?

"Just business, Harry. Nothing to worry about. I'll see you after the match with the gift. Good luck. I hope your team wins."

The boy smiled. He was Terry's son. His colouring and fine features were from his mother but the eyes and the smile were his father's. Harry was tall for his age, gangly and long legged with that coltish look of teenage boys. But she could see that his square shoulders, already broad for a fourteen year old hinted at the promise of the man he would become. And that would be more prime beef than the usual slope shouldered sons of the English upper middle classes.

It was an enjoyable match and the boys were energetic, fast and eager; it was easy to be carried away in their uncomplicated exhilaration. Harry was quick and strong and seemed to like the rough stuff, never shying from a tackle. Annie imagined how Terry would be caught up in the match and quietly proud of his growing boy. Modern marriages. What a shit it was for the kids, Annie thought- not much fun for the Dads on the sidelines of their children's lives either, she thought.

Afterwards, she made little ceremony of the gift giving, merely slipping the box into Harry's hands and complimenting him on his performance, declining the forced offer from Penelope to join them in the clubhouse for refreshments.

"Thank you but I can't. I have to get back to London. Harry, Terry said that he would call later today to see how you got on. He said don't forget to leave your phone on." With that she nodded to the family and walked off. As she reached the car, Annie glanced back at the family. Penelope was observing her. As soon as their eyes met, the glacial expression returned to the woman's eyes but it was a second too late. Annie had seen something else there before she put up her guard. It had been sadness.

PART NINE

Dino and Terry were shown into an opulent room, awash with the trappings of vulgar wealth and corruption. Ornate gilt couches, richly upholstered and scattered with satin cushions were scattered about, gilded crystal topped tables, plush carpets and velvet hangings. Music pumped out from a hidden source and nervous looking young guns fingered their hardware, eyeing the two Americans with unconcealed dislike.

"Your excellency? My name is Dino Lapenti and this is my partner, Mr. Terrence Thorne. It's an honour, sir." Terry said nothing but inclined his head slightly. But he was watching. The ex-president watched them through hooded eyes. There was something reptilian about him as he remained motionless, his bulky obesity spilling out over the edges of the large chair. He motioned for them to take a seat.

"I have read your files. You both have much experience in military matters and also in more unconventional operations. You can be of use to me. These fools who run my army have no finesse. They think an arsenal of the latest weapons makes a good soldier. I think you know that there is more to it than that. Take your time, you can see everything and then I want to know where the weak links are; who the weak links are. But I warn you. Don't play me for a fool. You are a long way from America now and this is my domain."

Morimbe waved a fat gold bedecked hand to dismiss them. Leaving the room, Terry and Dino exchanged looks and Terry blew air slowly through pursed lips. The guy was a fucking maniac. This place smelt of bad karma. The mountain fortress was hidden from the air by the thick tree cover but it commanded an impressive view of the plains below. It had not been erected over night; Morimbe had been working on this place for years. Terry assessed there were several hundred armed men within the compound, possibly more in the forest about. The level of technological aids to protect them from attack and aid detection was very high and the weapons dumps were frighteningly well stocked. He could wipe out an entire city with little effort.

The personnel was a different matter. His soldiers were shifty eyed and cruel but had been poorly trained and seemed to observe little. Many dozed at their posts and the expensive equipment was clearly a mystery to some. Security checks were perfunctory, monitors left unattended and doors open. They were relying on their remote location and numbers, not to mention the ace card they were holding over the new president.

Two days later, the consultants of LT Security delivered a crushing and comprehensive report of the many failings discovered in their detailed audit. Mr Thorne gave the presentation in his concise, clipped style; nothing missed and not a word wasted, never tempting to gild the lily or play up to the client. The ex-president nodded; he had suspected as much. These men knew their business.

"An impressive report in such a short time. But nothing I didn't know."

Morimbe raised his eyes to the rear of the room. The two men heard the movement of men circling them from behind. Terry clenched and unclenched his fists, the first rush of adrenalin pumping. "I have merely been assessing you so far. My actual requirements are quite different. I'm afraid, Gentlemen, you may be here a little longer than you imagined. Firstly I would like you to supervise the correction of the lapses that you have observed. But more importantly, I have a special task for Mr. Thorne. Your dossier tells me you are ex- SAS, a crack shot and expert in all terrain warfare, especially counter terrorist activities. I wish to put your extensive talents to a new use- or perhaps it isn't so new? The British army may not admit it but its special forces have often carried out operations of a singularly dubious legality. No doubt your principles are already fairly elastic, Mr. Thorne?"

"I'm not sure I'm following you, your Excellency." Terry fixed Morimbe with a stare; his words were mild but his manner suggested a cold fury rising. The president laughed. "Assassin, Mr Thorne. A role you were born to play. You will assassinate the new president. It would be simpler, once he steps down, for his removal to be swift. As his overseas cronies intend to shield him once he withdraws, I need someone who can have access and will not miss at the first shot. You will only get one shot, Mr Thorne. Unfortunately N'Garno will be surrounded by marksmen as capable as you are. Don't make any plans for Christmas."

Terry sneered. "And how do you know I won't miss?"

"If the safety of your friend, Mr. Lapenti is not enough to ensure your aim, then perhaps the fate of this child may steady your grip. Your dossier makes very interesting reading, Mr. Thorne. You have a worrying tendency to sentimentalism, unusual for a soldier of your experience. I doubt you would enjoy the thought of anything unpleasant happening to her. It wouldn't sit well with your reputation for white knight heroics, would it?"

A henchman grabbed Terry and pulled him over to the window. On the terrace outside, a little girl sat curled up in a cane chair, flanked by two armed soldiers. She was sucking her thumb and appeared bewildered, her eyed tearstained and bloodshot. Terry dragged his hand down his face and turned back. He walked to stand before Mogimbe and spat. The glob of mucus ran down the immaculately polished leather slippers on his feet. Men ran forward to restrain Terry but Mogimbe raised a hand to stop them.

"Let him be. We must be considerate with dead men. Be ready at dawn, Mr. Thorne. Sweet dreams."

Back in their room, the two men sat in silence while Dino selected a video from the pile of hard core piled by the television set. He slid it in, pressed play and turned up the volume. Terry caught his eye and nodded towards the two men watching them from near the door. Dino blinked his eyes in agreement. Suddenly:

"You fucking loser, Lapenti. I told you this place was a fucking swamp. I should tear your head off for this."

"Bit late to start using your brain now, Thorne."

Terry roared and picked Dino up by the throat, flinging him against the wall then knocking him out onto the veranda. He appeared to be throttling Lapenti, all the while spitting insults into his ear. "Switch it on now. We've got two hours till Mother Bird gets here. Give me ninety minutes and then start the show. See you at the fair." Terry flung the apparently unconscious man down, just out of sight of the door and lunged back into the room, grabbing up a bottle of beer and slumping before the TV screen, apparently lost in the naked coupling playing out before him. The two men watched him for a while until they lost interest. He wasn't going anywhere and they didn't relish sitting watching him jerking off. They turned away.

An hour and a half later, Terry was on the roof, squatting down beneath a water tower, indistinguishable from the intense dark of the forest night. His breathing was regular and controlled; the only visible sign of his tense concentration was a pulse beating in his temple. 'Come on, Dino.' Suddenly the silence was shattered by a deafening explosion as a plastic detonator blew the arms dump to kingdom come, the blackness illuminated by the red fireball that shot up and out. Terry stepped forward and shinned down to the tiled terrace below, dropping and rolling into the shadows. Peering into the president's apartment, he observed the confusion as his men bustled Morimbe through a door and down a staircase to the underground bunker and passageways meant for the unlikely eventuality of an attack. Stepping across the doorway and turning on his toes, Terry found the wall on the other side. Had Annie observed him she would have recognised the move; it was one he had executed a week earlier on a dance floor. Silently he edged to another door at the end of the veranda which Dino and he had identified whilst scanning the forest with high-powered binoculars during their audit. It was where the child was kept.

Three people dashed into the child's room and dragged her from her bed. Another powerful blast. The communications centre. One peeled away to view the explosion from the balcony. His body was dead long before it fell into Terry's arms. A woman was wrapping the child in a coat, whilst the other man urged her on; she gasped as he fell back, a knife piercing his throat and a jet of blood spurting over her. The woman sprang for the door but was stopped by a rugby tackle. The breath had already been knocked out of her by the force of the impact; she would not have felt the snap as her neck was broken.

Terry moved towards the little girl on the bed. The child scrabbled backwards, trying to hide herself among the bedding. "Baby, don't be scared. I wont hurt you." Terry whispered. She shivered and whimpered. Suddenly it dawned on Terry that she didn't understand him. " Sois calme, ma petite. N'a pas peur! Je suis un ami de ta pere. Tu es saufe." Her eyes flickered recognition. She understood that she had no choice but to trust him and allowed Terry to pick her up and carry her out.

Another explosion. 'Bonzer one, Dino!' Terry thought as he rested the little girl over his shoulder and scaled the wooden veranda back to the roof.  His keen ear picked out the distant hum of the helicopter as the fourth and final explosion blew the heart out of the barracks. Confusion and panic reigned; the men below were streaming into the forest, their main aim to desert the inferno, aware that their leader had long since been whisked away through his secret escape route. There was nothing left worth dying for.

PART TEN

Terry flipped on his cell phone as he hit the terminal at Heathrow. It was three days before Christmas and the place was teeming with holidaymakers making their getaway and families meeting relatives from abroad. He called up the number and pressed connect. The telephone rang for a long time but was finally answered. It was hard to hear against the noise of the arrival hall and the deafening din at the other end of the line.

"Is Annie there?"

"Who? Can't hear you?"

"Annie or Mel?"

"Can't hear you. There's a party going on." And the phone was abruptly hung up. 

Terry glanced at his watch. It was already 11pm. No, he needed to see her. He couldn't go home alone. He might never have seen her again. Joining the queue for the taxis, he waited impatiently, tapping his foot against the barrier, suddenly jumpy again.

The Christmas party was in full swing when he arrived; the front door was open and he had to step over a couple who were familiarising themselves with each other's tonsils across the doorway. The lights were dim and a few people were dancing in the centre of the room, the furniture pushed back against the wall. Annie had her back to the door, talking to some one. As he threw down his coat and carry-on, the record changed and the distinctive sounds of the opening bars of 'Alright Now' twanged out. It immediately brought images of dodgy discos at home years ago into his mind. Annie seemed to spring into action. He smiled as she pushed a space for herself and struck a posture, hands on hips. As the first words rang out, she began to act out the lyrics, mimicking the streetwalker of the song.

'There she stood in the street
Smiling from her head to her feet.
She said 'hey, what is this, baby?
Maybe you're in need of a kiss?'

Edging round the group of people watching her, Terry pushed forward until he was directly behind her. He spun Annie round and she gasped. Placing a finger on her lips, he pulled her against him, holding her by the hips against his groin. She flexed back and placed her hands on the back of her neck, elbows stretched outwards and breasts pressing against him. Her eyes were half closed and her mouth was slightly open; she looked drunk and her body felt lithe and languid in his hands. He whispered the lyrics into her ear as they ground together in time to the pulsing beat.

'Took her home to my place
Watching every move on her face
I said ' hey what's your game, baby?
Are you trying to drive me insane?

It was as far as he got. The moment she whispered ' It's alright now, Terry' into his ear, he melted and searched for her lips, burying his tongue into her mouth, tasting the tequila and lime. It seemed an eternity while they clung to each other, greedily feeding and running their hands through each other's hair. The music stopped and they slowly pulled apart, suddenly aware of the audience who were giving them a drunken round of applause. They both grinned in embarrassment; Terry caught Mel's wink as she indicated towards the bedrooms and mouthed. 'Get a room!'

Annie took his hand and dragged him towards the kitchen. The glare of the fluorescent light made them both blink. She found him a can and pressed it into his hands; he drank without really wanting it.

"So you're back. You had me a bit worried there, Terry. Sort of spooked. Got this funny idea you were up to no good. What were you up to really, Terry? Don't say business because I'm not buying it."

Terry put his finger to her lips again. "Not tonight. I don't want to talk about it tonight. But tomorrow, I'll come clean, I promise. Just hold me tonight, Annie. I haven't got the strength to fight it any more."

Annie put down her drink and put her arms round him, wrapping her legs around his. The pressure against his ribcage made him wince; he had cracked three ribs when he had hoisted himself into the chopper as it took off, the pilot concerned that the whole complex was about to blow.

"What's the matter?" Annie stepped back and snatched up the ribbed edge of his jumper until she revealed the bandaged ribs. "Terry?..."

"Cut myself shaving, love."

"Going for a Brazilian, were you?"

"A what?"

"Forget it. Girl talk." She looked at him warily. "OK. I'll leave this for tonight but I swear if you keep me in the dark again I'll break the rest of your ribs."

Stroking his hair, Annie suddenly noticed that he looked drained under his tan and there were dark circles beneath his eyes. "You should be in bed, Terry, you look like shit."

"Is that a proposition?"

"Could be." Annie took his hand and pulled him into the bedroom. Flicking on the light, she startled a couple on her bed amidst the coats.

"Bugger off, get your own room." Terry chuckled as they scrambled off, fastening up their clothes, as Annie grabbed an armful of winter coats and marched with them into the lounge, dumping them unceremoniously onto the floor. Then she switched on the main light. "Alright, folks. Party's over. Hit the road," and swept back to her bedroom closing the door and the light.

"Christ, you're bossy."

"And you need some peace and quiet."

Annie pushed him back onto the bed and switched on the bedside lamp. She took off his shoes and socks and lifted his legs up. He let her kneel by him and ease his jumper up over his head and off his arms. "Is it painful?' she said as she allowed her hands to glide over the white bandage around his abdomen.

"I've had worse," he replied.

Her fingers traced down the cloth and stroked the line of hair beneath, following it until she made contact with his belt and unfastening it. Terry watched her slender fingers undo the button at the top of his pants and ease down the zip, shifting her position to his ankles to pull them down, while he raised his hips to assist. Annie returned to her kneeling position and looked at him, her breathing shallow and quick. "You can't make love to me, Terry."

"It won't hurt much. It'll be worth it."

"No. It would hurt but that's not what I meant. It's not possible tonight, honey. I'm on. You know, time of the month?"

"Bloody hell!"

"Too bloody right! That's why they call it the curse."

He groaned and made as if to pull her next to him. "Well, we'll just have to make it sleep then, love."

Resisting his hands, Annie shook her head. Her hair fell about her shoulders, shiny and black. "Let me do this for you, Terry. I think you need some loving tonight."

Running her hands down his hips, she pulled at his shorts; he made a half hearted attempt to stop her but she shrugged his hand away. He was already erect, her eyes alone making him hard, even before her cool hands took him and gently pulled back the skin of his cock, lips brushing against his head, licking the spot of fluid that already oozed out.  Terry closed his eyes and tried to concentrate; he almost shot his load before she had even started. 'Steady now, slow down, mate' he thought to himself. The sensation of her mouth as she suddenly sucked hard and took him in took his breath away and made him groan; she relaxed and began to ease him further down her throat, tongue lapping, teeth grazing and fingers stimulating his base. He gasped: "I can't stand it. I'll come, pull out, Annie." but at the same time he held her head and pushed her further against him, his actions belying his words. When he felt her hand grasp his scrotum and massage his balls, one finger stroking the delicate line of skin that led from there to his........In one roar he let himself come, thudding into her, his hot semen pulsing into her mouth as she tried to swallow, near to choking.

Whimpering, he gently took her head and freed it, suddenly scared he might have hurt her and ashamed that he had subjected her to this before he had even had the chance to love her properly. Annie crept up to the bed next to him and curled at his side. They didn't speak. Rolling to her, he pressed his mouth on hers, tasting himself on her lips.

"Annie, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I couldn't help it. I'll make it up to you."

With her mouth close to his ear, she murmured. "It doesn't matter. I wanted to. I want to do everything to you that a woman can do. I want to make you happy. Like you make me."

Waking up the next morning, Terry felt sore. He hadn't remembered going to sleep but Annie must have covered him and then lain beside him as he slept. On the pillow by him, she lay hidden by her thick hair, her naked shoulder pressed against him. An overwhelming urge to pull back the sheet and see her body came over him but this time he stopped himself. He would save that for later. Easing himself away from her, he swung his legs to the floor, grunting as he felt the sharp pain in his ribs. He found his pants and put them on, aware that the effort of bending over proved that he should have listened to the doctors in Jo'burg who had told him to stay in hospital and off his feet for a few days.

'Christ, I need a cigarette.' He thought as he lurched out of the room. The lounge was scattered with the debris of the party, the stale air full of smoke and spilt drinks mingled with the remnants of the dips and party food. Finding a packet of cigarettes he lit one and dragged hard; his head spun and he felt sick. Coughing, he padded to the bathroom and took a pee, having to lean one arm on the wall to steady himself, the cigarette hanging from his lip.

"Jesus, Terry, have you never heard of locks?"

"Can't stop now, Mel. Avert your eyes." He muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Seen it all before, mate. Christ, are you ever going to stop? Where do blokes get it all from?" He laughed as he finished with the usual slight shiver and zipped up. As he washed his hands, he looked at himself in the mirror. He did look like shit.

"Terry?"

"You still here?" He turned to see Mel, sitting on the edge of the bath, a pensive look on her face.

"She's been really uptight while you were away. I hope you know what you are doing. I'm beginning to think I might have made a mistake. When I rang you that day, I didn't expect this. I just thought she needed a bit of fun and you were a lot of fun, so it would do her good.  But it hasn't worked out like that. She's gone all glassy eyed and you have turned into Rhett Butler or something. But, she doesn't know the name of the game, Terry. I'm afraid for her. She has naïve expectations of men and you are hardly the sort of man to inspire much confidence in the more world weary of us. Terry, she's had a bad time in the past and she's really scarred. We only just pulled her back from the brink as it was, don't do this unless you are prepared to go all the way. If you hurt her, I'll fucking kill you!"

Terry dragged on his cigarette, threw the butt into the toilet and flushed. As he blew out, he stared at the water filling up. "Wait up a minute. Don't put a load of shit on me, Mel. I'm just a bloke trying to make something work with a woman. I have no intentions of hurting her. What happened to her anyway?"

"She hasn't said?" He shook his head. "Don't expect me to tell you. I've interfered enough already. I know she's important to you- but how much? Do you make a habit of this disappearing and reappearing act? How long before you get tired of the chase? Jesus, how old are you? Thirty-five, thirty-six? How many times have you 'fallen in love' then out again? You don't seem to have made commitment a speciality, if you don't mind me saying."

Anger suddenly flared up in Terry. Her words were too close for comfort. "So you're some kind of fucking Oprah are you? Expert on commitment and loving relationships? Seems I remember it somewhat differently." He jerked his head back and raised his chin; it was an aggressive gesture. "Perhaps Annie could do without a little whore for a friend. Casual sex might suit your palate, love, but she's not the type. Men know the difference. I saw you and fucked you. I saw Annie and loved her. Sort your own fucking head out, love, and keep your nose out of my life. And don't try and poison her against me. She wouldn't listen and I might just break your jaw if you tried."

"You complete bastard." Mel's eyes filled with tears. She was stunned at his cold cruelty. It was as if he was an entirely different person, someone who suddenly frightened her. Running from the room, he heard her slam her bedroom door and he rested his head against the tiled wall. 'Christ, why did I say that?  She was just looking out for a friend.' But he knew what had made him act so uncharacteristically. It was fear.

PART ELEVEN

The train hurtled through the English countryside; it had snowed on Boxing Day and the fields sparkled white in the thin winter sun. Annie flicked through the newspaper but she couldn't settle to read. Christmas had been an ordeal- even more so than usual. Her family had been so happy to have her home but she had been distracted and her restlessness must have shown; her mother had been upset with her. It was understandable. Apart from a brief weekend visit in July, she hadn't been home since last Easter and seemed only to be marking time until she could make her excuses and leave. Then there had been the drive over to Yorkshire on the annual trip to see Ben's parents. Her skin had prickled with guilt at his grave.

On Christmas morning she had slipped away into the front room and rung Terry, glaring at her mother when she came in to look for something. He had decided to go up to Oxford and see Harry; Penny could hardly slam the door in his face. The sound of his voice made things even harder. Annie just wanted to be back with him.

Breathing out, Annie sipped the tasteless Styrofoam cup of coffee and tried to calm her beating heart. 'God, I'm like a fifteen year old with her first boyfriend!' Watching her reflection in the window of the train, she thought about the next morning and how he had come clean just as he promised. She had sat crossed legged on her bed, wrapped in his shirt and he had talked for hours about his life, chain smoking and drinking endless cups of tea. He told her of his arrival in England, tours of duty in Northern Ireland, the cocky Aussie, full of spunk. How he met this classy girl in a disco in Cheltenham one night and this time it wasn't just a quick bang and move on. He fell for her, she fell for him and they got married six months later.

It hadn't been quite that simple- Terry described how he and Penny had been caught in her parents' bed one Sunday morning when Mummy and Daddy arrived home from a trip earlier than expected, that Daddy was his Brigadier and that twenty four hours later he had been parachuting into a war zone in a team for which he was not really qualified. Daddy must have hoped for a nice easy solution to the family's little problem. Things didn't quite work out as planned. Terry had learnt quickly and earned a promotion from that junket, youngest officer of his rank in the regiment. It did not endear him to Daddy. Back at base, he had received an unexpected dinner invitation from the Brigadier- at his home, wear dress uniform. Should have guessed- they'd been pretty careless- but he had nearly passed out when he saw Penny, four months' pregnant. Her parents had tried everything to persuade Penny to get rid of the unfortunate embarrassment but she had stuck to her guns. He had always been grateful to her for that. So- the Brigadier informed him he was getting married or cashiered- take your pick.

"Can they do that? Court martial you for having it off with the general's daughter?"

"They can do whatever the fuck they like. It's easy enough to get you for something" he had replied.

Actually, once he had recovered from the original shock, he had decided he wanted to make a go of it anyway. They were young, in love, about to be parents- carried away with the romance of it all. So she moved into married quarters, they played house for a while but it was clear from the start that something wasn't right. Penny had won a place at Oxford (she had been celebrating her results the night they had met). Now, instead of reading PPE at St. John's, she was eighteen, pregnant and her social set had become the wives of soldiers who were from a totally different walk of life from her; she was a beautiful young fish, completely out of water.

Add to that, he had been away a lot and when he was back he had still been running around like a larrikin; out drinking with the boys, sex in the back of cars or in the toilets at discos with girls he'd picked up, while Penny was at home growing fatter and more disillusioned. Harry's birth had pulled him up; he had never felt that way about anything in his life before and knew he had to grow up; start behaving like a husband now but it was a little late. Penny was bitter and a gulf was developing between them. Terry had been a way of punishing her controlling parents, but the trouble was he was a little too hard to control and Penny was lonely, bored, missed her friends and frustrated by her lack of career and future.

One day he had come home from a 'situation' (as he called it), threw down his kitbag and heard the laughter. It was the Brigadier's bedroom all over again but this time he wasn't the one having the fun. Harry had been in the room next door having an afternoon nap.

"Was it Michael?"

"No. Some young soldier, one of my men, actually. Put him in the fucking hospital- broke his nose in two places, smashed a few ribs and nearly kneed his balls up into his brain. Penny threw me out and I only just escaped a serious charge because the bloke agreed not to report me (a bit of army pressure from my mates!). We made a few attempts to get back together but it wasn't going to happen. I ended up sleeping in the spare room but I least I was there for Harry. Then she met Michael at some party at her parents' place. He was already a surgeon; he's quite a well-known cardiologist now. Just what the family wanted for her. She asked me for a divorce. End of story."

Then he had filled her in about his job. Luthan had head hunted the young captain from the army and he had been more than ready for a change. That had been eight years ago. Recently he had set up with a friend freelance. They were doing pretty well. It paid better than the army by a long way and there were less dubious moral issues to contend with. He went in and helped people when they were desperate; it felt like a more honourable way of using his skills.

"Is it dangerous -what you do, I mean?" Annie had asked.

He had thought a while and cleared his throat. "It's not about danger but it brings danger with it. We deal with dangerous people, fanatics with nothing to lose. Things can go wrong. But the aim of the game is to keep things calm and safe- that way no one gets hurt."

"But it doesn't always work, does it, Terry?" He shook his head.

"It sounds like a Hollywood film, Terry! Action Man saves the world or something like that." Terry had laughed ruefully.

"Don't make it sound romantic, love. Mostly it is months of mind games, waiting for phone calls and contacts, securing proof of life, going one step forward and three back while at the same time playing nursemaid and counsellor to desperate wives and mothers. And there's definitely nothing romantic about telling someone that you've screwed up and their loved one isn't coming home. Because that happens, too."

"This time- did you bring the man out?"

Terry nodded. "It wasn't a man. It was a little girl. I couldn't have left her to die. How can I explain that to Harry? I can put my life on the line for a child I don't even know but I can't keep a simple promise to my own son."

"Just tell him. He is a great kid. He'd be proud of you."

Terry shrugged. "I don't want to make him worry."

 "He already does, Terry."

The train reached Euston and Annie was off almost before it stopped moving. She ran down the platform and Terry was there, waiting to sweep her off her feet and swing her round in the air as if she were a little child. They kissed passionately, unconcerned with the passers by who jostled and pushed them.

"Let's go home, love," he whispered.

Back at his flat, he led her inside and said:

"What do you think?"

"Typical bachelor shag palace, Thorne!"

"As long as it gets the job done, eh?" He smirked. "No need to show you round, is there? I'm sure you've had a good look already." Another smirk, his head on one side.

Annie lied. "No. I just came in, went upstairs, retrieved the package and exited. A real slick military operation, you'd have been proud of me. I wouldn't have pried, Terry."

He burst out laughing. " You expect me to believe that? A nosey little bugger like you? You'd be the first woman in recorded history to show such restraint, love." He picked up a letter on the table. "Just put this in the office for me while I get a drink."

Annie took the envelope and turned towards the door past the kitchen. 

"Pretty good guess that, Annie!"

 She threw it at him. "Bastard! I couldn't find the bedroom!!"

Terry picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, running up the stairs.

"Mind your ribs, Terry!" But he wasn't listening. Neither was she. Dumping her on a heap on the bed, he rolled on top of her and pinned her beneath him.

"Breaking and entering, Annie, serious offence."

"I'm not sure I understand what breaking and entering means, officer. Could you just give me a demonstration?"

They ripped off each other's clothes, their lips hardly breaking away, rolling over and over, using their feet and hands to push down their jeans, tangled up in shirts and jumpers and underwear, Terry growling in annoyance and tearing his shirt to disengage his arms. Naked, they were free at last and began to explore each other, licking and biting, cupping and squeezing, oblivious to everything but the driving force of their passion.

Neither had the patience for gentle foreplay; Annie was wet as soon as he touched her. Moments later, she pulled his head from her groin and shouted: " Just fuck me, Terry." He obliged, roughly parting her legs and lunging for her, missing his target in his urgency, having to pull away and steady himself with his hand. As his tip thrust in, Annie gasped, unsure whether she could take him all. The noise cleared his head a little and he slowed down, easing himself more slowly and repositioning her hips. She relaxed and he thrust again, her hips now matching his motion as she felt him slip deep within her.

The feel of him took her breath away; his cock was stimulating every nerve of her passage; she was doing the same to him. He whispered in her ear, wild streams of obscenity; what he wanted to do to her and have her do to him. Annie knew she was on the brink and began to cry out; he responded by moving faster.

"Johnny!"

"Terry!" he grunted back.

"No, pull out! Condom!" she panted.

Terry roared and pulled back.

"Where are they?"

"Bedside cupboard, drawer," he gasped, squeezing his cock to try to control himself.

"Which side?'

"Both." Annie looked up "Both?"

"Just get it!" He ordered through gritted teeth and she leant over him, scrabbling in the drawer until she found her goal. Tearing the wrapper, she struggled to roll it on him while he covered her hand and assisted. He dipped his fingers in her wetness, rubbed the shaft, unceremoniously pushed her back and entered her. Seconds later they orgasmed together, Annie crying out and he groaning a deep and sonorous rumble.

Terry slumped on top of her, his weight almost knocking her senseless. Annie wriggled to try to catch her breath and he finally realised her predicament, raising himself and slipping out. They lay there panting hard, waiting for their heart rates to return to a safe level, sweat beading on their bodies even on the winter's afternoon. Terry lay on one arm and stroked her thoughtfully. " You're going to ruin my reputation, Annie Dwyer."

"Reputation?"

"They used to call me the sixty minute man."

"You used to be eighteen, Terry!"

"Think I'm past it now, do you?"

"Well, you have barely lasted sixty seconds on the two encounters we've had so far, so I'm afraid we may have to go into some serious training. Prepare yourself for a gruelling winter, Thorne!"

PART TWELVE

Much later that evening, after a dinner cooked in the no longer pristine kitchen  (some messy sex play with various food items kept distracting them- Mrs. O' Dowd would not be pleased.) Terry gave a repeat performance, which more than justified his reputation and Mel's claims. Lying in a heap on the lounge floor, propped up against the white settee, listening to Santana, Annie made a decision. It was time.

"Terry. I have to tell you something."

"You're married with ten kids?  You're really a bloke? You only want me for my body and intend to make me your sex slave? "

Annie slapped him. "No, be serious. I mean it." He recognised her change in mood.

Reaching out, she picked up the packet of cigarettes from the floor beside him, took one and lit it. She passed it to him and repeated the action for herself. Taking a long drag, coughing and then breathing out, Annie began.

"Ten years ago I met a boy called Ben. We fell in love and had six years together. He went to Harvard to do an MBA, I stayed at home to start my PHD. One night, he went out to buy some beer- only to the local convenience store. There was an English premiership match on some cable channel.  He'd just rung me because it was Leeds that were playing against United and we had this rivalry thing going. I hated Leeds but it was his team and we traded insults as usual. Then he said. 'Gotta go. Get some beer. We are going to give you some serious stick.' When he got there some kids were robbing the store. He just walked in at the wrong time. The door chime startled one of the kids and he whirled round and his gun went off. Bullet in the brain."

Annie stopped and chewed hard on her lip. A thin pinprick of blood appeared, she licked it away. "It was morning when the call came. I was getting ready for work. It was Ben's sister, Julia. She sounded strangled and far away. She asked me if anyone was there. I said Mel was in the kitchen and she said 'get her'. I knew then but I couldn't ...couldn't ... She sat down and then Julia told me. I don't remember what happened then. I just sort of broke in pieces. I kept going through the motions; eating, washing, dressing, going to the toilet, speaking to people but I didn't feel myself as part of life. I was somewhere else entirely. The funeral's a blur. I had a complete breakdown. It was months before I started to deal with it. But in the end I did deal with it. I woke up and came back to the world but it was a different place."

All the while she had been speaking, shudders had run through her and her hands were shaking. Terry had held her, his hand stroking her hair as if comforting a child. Silent tears rolled down Annie's face. "You are the first man I have allowed near me since then. I have tried but I just couldn't bring myself. I have wanted the comfort of a man but every one I met I compared to Ben and found them wanting. Ben has been a constant shadow until I even began to beg him to go away. I dreamed that there could be someone who could make him go away. Someone who could soak up the memories and leave me clean and free. Like blotting paper. And I couldn't find anyone. Until you."

The CD had finished and the room was silent. The only sound was their breath and the beating of their hearts.

"Say something, Terry. Say something. Is it too much for you to handle?"

"No, love. Pain's my speciality. I'm not scared of that." Annie began to cry, a deep shuddering sob, weeping in his arms, relief washing over her as violent as her earlier orgasm had been. Terry let her cry, knowing it was good for her. He stared at the ceiling. Now she had opened up to him at last; there were no secrets between them. But why had he never mentioned Alice?