New York

He tucked his shirt into his pants, zipped up and fastened his belt. Shaking a liberal amount of cologne onto his left hand, he patted his face and neck, admiring his reflection with his usual casual arrogance: his swarthy, handsome features, the finely wrought chiseled jaw, the carefully controlled light stubble and the shock of shiny black hair that flopped in boyish fashion above his heavy dark eyebrows. His deep brown eyes danced in amusement. "You're fucking gorgeous, mate...I'd do you myself if I could..." Then with a laugh and an affectionate squeeze of his genitals, he spoke to the mirror... "I forgot! I just did..." referring to his earlier wank while dozing in front of a porn film. He'd been celibate for weeks and intended to do some serious harm tonight. A slight easing of the tension was always a good prelude to a wild session on the town.

Grinning and blowing himself a kiss, he slipped on a jacket and eased his fingers into the kid leather glove that fit him like a second skin. Murmuring: "Keys... phone... card...frangers...lighter...fags..." as he loaded his pockets, he headed across the lofty space of his bedroom towards the exit.

His apartment was an impressive place: a penthouse fifty six floors above the city with an uninterrupted view of the river. His bedroom, a vast white space dominated by a commissioned handmade bed on a dais set in an alcove lit by a soft hidden glow and carefully positioned spots that could sleep several couples comfortably on its hand made sheets. There was no other furniture apart from a tall obelisk shaped pedestal holding an exquisite bronze statue of a man and woman engaged in an extremely explicit sex act.

This room was devoted to the man's recreational habits on the rare occasions when he had the time to indulge them. It reflected his sexual tastes which, to put it mildly, were very wide-ranging. There was not much he wasn't prepared to engage in when the mood was right. The bed and the vast floor space was ideal for group sex, his large Jacuzzi set into the adjoining bathroom could have held a rugby sevens squad easily enough - with their partners - and the bench upholstered in a vibrant red damask silk, one of the few real streaks of colour in the stark whiteness that lay along one wall was ideal for a kneeling couple to lean on - or several other possible combinations and uses.

Scatter cushions, in vivid jewel colours, lay about, expensive silk Tientsin and Persian rugs covered the hardwood floor; an animal skin stretched out in apparent sexual submission, limbs akimbo, in front of a recessed fire in a metal framed unit. There were no cupboards or wardrobes visible - these were all discreetly hidden behind wall panels. The ceiling was of some metallic finish, highly polished gunmetal, revealing to anyone who looked up, a soft focused, slightly distorted image of the room beneath. A sleek screen could be lowered for viewing of one of his esoteric collection of pornographic DVDs. A cabinet built into the alcove behind the bed was stocked with a vast and bewildering array of sex toys, oils, aids, stimulators, restraints and a cache of illegal substances. He liked to experiment.

Leaving the silent luxury of the penthouse, he rode the elevator down to the street level and jogged out onto the warm night. August in New York: humid and sticky, distant thunder rumbling, millions of air conditioners struggling to cool down the perspiring denizens of the vast metropolis. It made him feel languid, sexually charged, voracious and predatory. A hot night, sweat, decadence, cool chic nightclubs and some of the world's most beautiful women. What a playground for an eligible male with a taste for the dark side and a seven figure salary!

He visited a few bars within walking distance of his building, met a few acquaintances, knocked back a few beers and did a line off a solid marble bar in full view of bar staff and customers, none of whom turned a hair.

Pleasantly buzzed, he flirted with Mischa, a Russian model he had once memorably fucked at a party in the pool of a friend's place in The Hamptons. The two of them had stripped naked, dived in and entertained the rest of the guests to a live show. Mischa asked him to come home with her for supper, he declined. Once with her might have been pretty spectacular but she was that passionate eccentric type whose melancholy Siberian soul spelt needy and obsessive. She would try to own him if he let her closer than a sexual contact.

He rarely let any of them close. Now and then he embarked on something that might approximate a relationship by most people's standards  but it rarely lasted. He had even tried cohabitation but the women had soon kicked him out - for which he was usually more than grateful. Frankly, he preferred to live alone, treasured his freedom, hated any sort of control to limit his desire  except for those he accepted as part of his dangerous and restrictive career. But those limits were integral components of the man that he was: the consummate professional with nerves of steel who seemed impervious to fear or discomfort, capable of formidable dedication, focus and commitment to a goal. The other side of his nature was entirely different, his release mechanism: wild, selfish and hedonistic. He was like the two extreme poles forged into one potentially explosive combination, opposite traits warring against each other: the brutal killer, compassionate dreamer, the cold-blooded soldier, a brave hero, a cocky chancer, a tender lover, a lawbreaker, a man of integrity, a drug taking libertine, a highly disciplined operative in a dangerous field.

Nicholas Costello was something of an enigma - even to those few people who knew him well.

In Souk, a sleek and sophisticated Manhattan watering hole, Nick found himself a seat at the bar and lit a cigarette. He was feeling mildly horny and looked around at the women scattered about the crowded space. He didn't care if they were alone or accompanied. If he was interested he was quite prepared to move in on another man's woman. It wasn't as if he had anything to fear from anyone.

His eye was taken by a group of young women who had just entered and were crossing his field of vision to find a table. His interest was immediately caught. They were attractively, expensively dressed, elegant but clearly very young. Fresh meat. His cock stirred pleasantly.

Following them discreetly with his eyes, he watched as they settled at a booth, ordered cocktails and chattered in that animated but still blasé fashion that young women managed to master artfully these days as if they were jaded and had seen and done it all. Perhaps they had. Kids these days were often as cynical and experienced as well-used whores. But this group still had a freshness about them, that white, orthodontically-enhanced sheen of expensive private schools and doting, liberal, over-indulgent moneyed parents. He guessed graduate students from the upper middle classes, their Daddies bankers, lawyers or industrialists, their Mommies socialites. He repressed the smile of anticipation that threatened to creep across his mouth at the thought of fun and games with one of these princesses - or maybe more than one?

Just then he noticed one of the set who had taken a seat with her back to him. She was tall, probably his height or even taller, broad shouldered but impossibly willowy, her long legs slender but as firm and muscular as an athlete; he could almost feel the grip of those solid thighs around his waist.

The girl was ivory skinned but dark haired, a shiny raven profusion of uncontrollable curls spilling down over her shoulders. She wore a scrap of a silk dress that lay like a drape, accentuating the narrowness of her hips, the guitar shaped curve of her back and the swell of a surprisingly promising breast evident when she rotated to the side. She was enchantingly female, fragile and satin smooth, her womanly attributes acting like a sensor to everything that was male in him.

And then she turned round, scanning the room absentmindedly without appearing to have noticed him. Somehow Nicholas knew that the fact she did not obviously look his way proved that she was aware of him. He knew how it worked.

Her face fully revealed took his breath away. She was quite unbelievably lovely and he wondered why he hadn't picked her out from the door- even among this bevy of beauties, she was a stand out. Her face was so perfectly formed that it seemed impossible that she could be real and not some living porcelain doll. But for all the effect she had on him, Nicholas had a strange sense that he knew her, as if he had always expected one day to meet her, that her image was already planted in his brain; the recognition was so strong that it stunned him. He even wondered if this was what the story books and romantic songs meant when they spoke of love at first sight. The idea that he should think that way shocked him almost as much as the impact that she had made on him already.

Of all the features that Nicholas found himself drawn to, the young woman's eyes were the most striking. He had never seen eyes that colour before. They were a deep aquamarine, like the coral waters of the South Seas, shimmering, iridescent and hypnotic. For the first time since he was a young boy experimenting with girls, Nicholas Costello felt uneasy and nervous. He wanted a shot at this girl but he was afraid he might make a mistake. With a grimace he wished he had dressed in a less louche style tonight, shaved to make himself look younger and more respectable, worn a tie or at least combed his messy locks. He knew how important first impressions were and he didn't want this woman to be put off by his outward sleazy look at the get go.

Not much put Nicholas Costello off. It didn't take him long to shake off the uneasy sense of nerves before he was ready to make his move. Calling the bartender to fetch a magnum of Krug and six glasses, he sauntered over, leant on the wall above the girls as the waiter poured the drinks and said with a flourish: "Beautiful women should always drink champagne..." He smiled and rolled his eyes, they giggled. Nicholas knew the effect he could have if he made an effort, especially when he laid on with a trowel, the cheeky chappy with the laid back Aussie style.

But the girl with the sea eyes did not coo or giggle. She appraised him thoughtfully while the others preened and tossed their hair, pursing her lips in a disturbingly familiar pout. That initial feeling of déjà vu or some kind of prior knowledge assailed him again. He trawled his memory for why she was ringing such a bell in his mind. He wished he could identify where he had seen her before. He couldn't have slept with her already - this girl he would recall and she was so bloody young he would have been breaking the law if he had done it a few years ago. On the other hand, he hadn't always let that fact bother him...

"I don't like champagne, the girl responded coolly. "I prefer Scotch. The good stuff. On the rocks."

Nick raised his eyebrows and called over to the waiter. "Bottle of Lagavullin for the little lady. And some ice..."

They all exchanged small talk. Nick gave his first name. He danced with a few of the girls. The one he had his eyes on was by now on the floor with another man. He cut in. She looked amused.

They danced, watching each other, no physical contact as yet as they moved slickly to the pounding beat. The song ended and he leaned in, placed an arm on her shoulder, bending down to speak into her ear. "You got a name?"

"Zoe."

"Pretty...where you from, Zoe?"

"..Everywhere..."

He smiled at her evasive reply. "That somewhere in Oz?" He had recognised a slight undertone of Strine in her British speech patterns. She had clearly spent a lot of time in the States, too; there was an Americanised gloss to her accent.

"Nowhere near Western Australia, mate..." She had correctly identified his origins. Bugger, she was good.

"Sydney?"

"Canberrra."

"Fuck, I'm slipping..."

"You need to go home and say G'day to Mum..." Zoe laughed brightly. "How long's it been?"

"Too long...you know how it is?" Nick's turn to be evasive.

"Not really. I see my family all the time..."

"They here in the States?"

"No." She did not elaborate. Interesting. Young women were usually garrulous in his presence to cover their nerves. This woman seemed to be so confident and yet...there was something innocent about her, despite her poise. She was cautious, reserved, assessing him. Why shouldn't she? A girl with these natural gifts did not need to grab the first bastard who came along. She would be waiting for the Alpha. Nick smiled inwardly. 'Well, you've met him now, princess...'

The music had changed to a slower sexier number and Nick slipped his arms about her, pulling her close as they danced seductively. Her body moulded against his and he smiled as he realized she was eye to eye with him. It was his one hang up. He was only 5' 10'' and usually preferred smaller women. Zoe seemed to read his thoughts.

"Stilettos. I'm 5. 7...but I like fuck me shoes...so have you ever thought of wearing them too?"

He glared in mock anger at her. "You've got a mouth on you, love. Fortunately I love women with mouths..." He licked his lips and then lowered his head to suckle on the tender flesh beneath her ear. Her gasp of surprise told him all her needed to know. Miss Sea Eyes might be cool but she was not made of ice - and he was getting to her warm, wet places.

"You stuck like glue to your friends or you want to go for supper somewhere?" Nick whispered into her ear. Zoe glanced up and smiled slowly.

"I must be crazy. I know your type. But...I feel reckless tonight. And somehow I suspect you are a man to be reckless with..."

She went to retrieve her purse, muttering something to her friends. A few seemed impressed, others a little concerned. "You sure? He's years older than us...he's after one thing, sweetie..."

"...So am I, girls. I've been working too hard recently. I need some downtime. He's the perfect specimen. You think I take him seriously?"

Nicholas winced at the comment. It was exactly what he was. It was exactly what women were for him too. Downtime. Something not to be taken seriously.  But somehow he didn't like to hear her say it about him. Why was that? Had they all got to fall for him to make him feel whole again? Or was he just so arrogant that he didn't like to admit that sometimes all sex amounted to was just a release of tension and of no more significance than a good long piss. To women as well as men.

She walked up to him and gave him a sultry look. "Supper then?"

Out on the street he found himself walking backwards, nervous energy oozing from him, talking too fast, offering her the benefit of his knowledge of the eateries of the district. She listened to his smart assed chatter and then stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"You really hungry?" she grinned.

He shrugged. "Not specially. I could eat. I can always eat."

"...Then eat me. And I'll eat you..."

His heart made a stutter in his chest at the overtly sexual offer she gave him. It wasn't something he hadn't heard before; it was fairly trite and in some ways amusingly naive. But the words seemed to take on a different context for him. He felt like he was being led by the nose, that this young girl was playing him - and yet she was perfectly honest about it. She wanted to experiment with him sexually; she wasn't interested in games - other than love ones. But she didn't seem to be a Lolita either. Zoe wanted to have sex with him and was simply telling it like it was.

Nicholas nodded, took her hand and crossed the road. "I live nearby. You okay with my place?"

"Sure." He almost heard her brain turning. I can get out of this easily in the morning. Just walk off and never see him again...

"You never seen American Psycho?" Nick gave her a warning look.

"Who are you? My Dad?" Zoe chuckled. "But if you are a wacko, let me tell you this. I'm a black belt in Wu Shu Kwan. Plus I know how to use a handgun, knife and my nails. That's if my kickboxing leaves you still standing..."

"...Impressive. What's behind all that, Lara?"

Zoe shrugged. "My Dad. He has this theory about women and the need for them to be confident in their physical abilities. My Mum is such a wimp. It worries him, I think."

Nick inclined his head. "You're close to your father?"

"Yeah. He's...he's my Dad...you know?"

"Not really. Never got on much with mine. Different for men."

"Is it? Dad is close to his sons. But...yeah, it's kind of different, I guess..."

"You got brothers?"

"Two. One older, one younger..."

"Little Miss In the Middle, eh?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"...Different?" She frowned at his apparent change of subject. Nick explained. "You said it was different.... with your brothers...how? How was it different...?"

Zoe again stopped and gave him a thoughtful look. "You ask an awful lot of questions..." Nick hunched his shoulders and wondered if his interest was showing. But she answered him anyway.

"...my Dad thinks it amusing when they do something a tad shocking, you know?  My younger brother - he's a bloody walking hard on. He'll shag anything he can get his hands on. Dad thinks that's funny. And my stepbrother...well, he's married now but, he was just as bad. But Dad treats any guy I'm with like he's a rapist or something. He knows I date guys but he pretends that he doesn't quite know what that entails. Mum says he nearly imploded when she told him I was on the pill..."

"You are?" Nick said, pulling her into him.

"Don't get too excited. You still better rubber up, mate...I have no idea where you've been but I can imagine that it contains some pretty sordid interludes..."

"Works both ways, love...so this Dad of yours is a bit of a hypocrite, is he?"

"No...he's a lot of a man. And I don't really want to talk about him. It's ...off-putting to think of him when I'm about to..."

"...About to what...?" Nick slipped his arm possessively around her shoulders and caressed the curve of her breast. "I'm fucking splitting my skin here, sweetheart....you up for some fun and games with Old Nick?" He licked her ear and casually rotated his thumb around her nipple until it peaked to a hard little tip.

"So I just met the devil himself, did I?" Zoe whispered as she raised her lips to his and they stopped in the midst of the sidewalk and kissed, bodies pressed closed.

It occurred to Zoe when she entered the apartment to wonder exactly what and who this Nick was. He was devastatingly handsome in a dark, smouldering Mediterranean way - and knew how to dress. His clothes were all designer labels. This apartment was top of high end, too - so he had money. Zoe gave it some thought. Celebrity? Could be - she was hardly well up on that sort of thing. Crime? Also possible. Might be Mafia. What a laugh, Dad'd love that one...She choked down the passing image of her father and the last time they'd been together. Another blazing row. He was just so...so...so bloody sure he was right about everything. Couldn't he just let her live her life as she thought fit? What was so wrong in wanting to make a difference?

Nick led her into his starkly luxurious lounge with its vast glass wall giving out onto the city lights. He let her wander around while he fixed some drinks.

"You want a line? Loosen up?" he called over from the bar.

Zoe shook her head. "Maybe some weed...I don't do the rest. Rots your brains..."

"Well, wanking makes you blind, so they say, but it never stopped me."

She grinned over. "Pretty impressive place. I suppose the next question is usually, What do you do for a living?' And I'm sure you never answer it..." she added wryly.

Nick again had an odd sense of how self-assured she was for her age. She almost seemed to have worked out that he was in some secret field that he would not divulge. Had he known her actual impressions of his career, he would have been amused.

"Yeah well, who wants to talk work when you're out of the office? I do okay. Pays the bills. What about you? Model? Aspiring actress...?"

Zoe laughed. "Hardly! My Dad would have a coronary. He's pretty damned mad at me as it is. I'm a graduate student. Harvard. International politics..."

Nick shrugged. "So why is Daddy angry with you? Thought that would be just what parents want..."

"Not mine. Well, Mum's pretty cool but he wanted me to be a lawyer..."

"And what do you see yourself doing...?"

"Journalist. Foreign correspondent. War zones. Natural disasters. Terrorist attacks. I want to bear witness..."

Nick raised his eyebrows and handed her a Scotch. "The good stuff. On the rocks. You sure you want that for a career? How much you know about shit like that?"

"What? You think a woman shouldn't be exposed to things like that? You just like him?"

Nick held up a hand in defence. "I just meant...do you really know what that lifestyle entails...?"

"As a matter of fact I do. Somewhat better than you, I would imagine..."came her smug retort.

Nick smiled, looked down into his drink and said nothing. She had balls. But she was woefully naïve. She'd be kidnapped and raped five minutes after she'd landed in the kinds of places she was talking about. But he wasn't here to be her career guidance counselor. "Probably...what do I know, anyway? Hey...you want the dollar tour?" He indicated the apartment. Zoe gave him a seductive smile as she sipped on her drink.

"Sure...lead on..."

He took her glass from her and left it at the bar as he held her hand and showed her around. She chose a music CD, a smoky Billy Holliday collection, and he suddenly swept her into his arms, swaying side to side with her, his lips nipping at her throat sensuously.

"You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen..." he whispered huskily.

Zoe smiled and tossed her head. "I bet you say that to all the girls...."

"Too right...but this time I actually mean it..." he grinned.

She pushed him away playfully but he drew her back in, his grip on her wrists just a little tighter than was polite. But she went with his predatory move and danced languidly in his arms. Again he muttered deep and low into her ear, "I like a woman who knows how to move with a man..."

He felt the loosening in her body and the almost imperceptible sigh that his words elicited from her and smiled against her neck, unable to restrain his sense of victory when he knew she was his.

 "Why the glove?" Her abrupt comment shocked him back from his sexually charged self-satisfied mood to the return of wariness. She ran her hand down his holding arm and stroked the soft leather of his glove. "Affectation?"

"Yeah. Something like that," he replied tersely. He hated women to make the comment, although they always did. He had never really accepted the loss of his hand in one sense, although he'd overcome the handicap on a practical level through an inordinate feat of will and determination, even turning it to his advantage. But before a woman, it seemed to Nick Costello, as if it made him less of a man than he believed he was. Not whole. Or it made them pity him. That was something he could never stand.

Zoe shrugged but still fingered the limb thoughtfully. 

Nick changed the subject. "I want you. Why pretend? I know why you're here too..." He took her hand from his and placed it on his groin, squeezing. Zoe couldn't restrain her curiosity. He was big. He was dangerous. He made her weak with longing. He was all the things a sensible girl should never do. But she was tired of being the good girl, excelling at everything and doing all the right things with her life. She wanted to taste a bit of the dark side, have some dirty secrets of her own.

"What you like best, honey? I can take you there anyway you choose...just say the word..."

"I don't know," she replied, her voice husky with need. "I don't know enough to be able to tell you where to start...but start...I just want to go a little wild tonight..."

"You're not a virgin, are you?" he asked, thinking it unlikely but wanting to be sure. If she was, she would need a whole different kind of handling - but he had a taste for innocence and reckoned he never let a girl down. It certainly wouldn't stop him.

"No...I've had my share of partners. But...something tells me I've never had a man like you..." She ran her forefinger along the length of his erect shaft, pressing in and staring him straight in the eyes. "But you better take care of me, Nick. I won't do it without protection..."

Nick took her face in his hands. "Nor will I. Don't worry. I might be a dirty bastard. But I'm not a fucking dirty bastard. There's a distinct difference..." He lowered his lips and kissed her softly, waited until she responded shyly and then chased the passion, slipping deeper into her mouth as she sucked on his tongue. Her initial hesitation had been charming but he soon realized that it was not reflective of her real nature; the girl was earthy and ready for sexual adventure. She unzipped him and slid her cool slender fingers beneath the fine wool and found his cock, pushing the silk away to circle his head and then trace his length.

As his kiss deepened, so did her exploration of his genitals and he was momentarily grateful for his earlier foresight. Something about this girl was getting to him and he wondered if he might just have lost his legendary cool had he not given himself a little hand relief before he went out, or had not got himself pleasantly buzzed and boozed up first. He was as jumpy as a kid in the back of the car with some prom queen touching him up. Jesus, what was wrong with him tonight?

"Let's move to the bedroom..." he grunted, removing her hand and easing himself back inside. He took her by the hand, a curiously boyish and tender gesture, and led her up the stairs.

Zoe peered inside the large room and looked around, amazed. "Whoah! It's like a designer's vision...."

"It is. You think I know where to get this shit?" he laughed. Pulling her inside, he took off his shoes and socks, shrugging away his jacket and threw himself back on the bed. His shirt was already unbuttoned and his pants unzipped. "Take your clothes off, baby. I want to see you naked..."

She blushed but did as he told her, slipping off the short dress and letting it slither to her feet. Underneath she wore only a tiny white thong and a beautiful lace half bra; her breasts to be fuller than he had imagined for such a slender girl. He almost groaned in anticipation of tasting them. Her body was pale gold, as if she had been kissed lightly by the sun although Zoe hardly seemed the sun-worshipper type, her glow probably gained more from swimming or sport. It made her skin shine smooth and polished, especially those long athletic legs, shapely and muscled. The shadow of a thin line of black curls lay beneath the lacy front of the tiny panties. He was glad she was not waxed naked like so many young women these days. He liked hair. Neat, yeah, but he still liked some. Unless he shaved it off himself. He smiled, imagining that for a later treat.

"Stunning. Like a goddess," he murmured. "Take it all off. I want to see it all..."

She unfastened the bra with no attempt at playing up to him, just removed it slowly and let the firm large breasts fall into his vision; he was surprised that her nipples were rose pink, having imagined that such a dark-haired girl would be tawny brown - and enjoyed the surprise. While he was still dwelling on this, she dropped the panties and bent to remove them from her feet, letting her breasts dangle tantalizingly just beyond his reach. Then she straightened up and stood quietly before him, completely naked and surprisingly free about it. "You want more?" she whispered.

"Yeah..." he grunted hoarsely and stroked himself unconsciously.

She lifted her left leg and put it on his thigh, opening herself to him. He looked. Her hair was a narrow curly tuft on her smooth round mons, but she was shaved beneath, revealing her sex, pink and small, the perfect little flower of her labia peeking out, tipped with the hooded nub still hiding its pearl from view. He swallowed hard. She might not be a virgin but she was young and comparatively untouched; he reckoned she was small inside and almost rocked at the thought of pushing into that tiny sweet place - and going deep. The glisten of her arousal was evident already as her skin began to tinge a darker pink while he looked at her.

"Women are visual too, Nick..." she reminded him boldly. "I want to see you naked."

He took off his shirt and slithered out of his pants, just the navy silk boxers between them now. Lifting his butt, he eased them off and then slipped them down his hairy thighs to toss them away from him. She looked with round eyes at his nakedness. Nick was confident in his physical appeal to women and loved their appraisal of him. He was broad shouldered but lean, hard and muscular, not an ounce of spare fat on his frame but replete with muscles and definition. The narcissistic perfection of his body was saved, however, by his sallow dusky skin, thickly haired on his chest and growing denser as it tufted beneath his navel, a dark brown shining cushion for the long thick cock with its grape skin head, oozing with the first trickle of precum; he thumbed it into his skin as he touched himself lewdly before her. He parted his legs slightly to give her a view of his solid dark balls, furred and wrinkled, rippling as if to the pulse of his blood.

"You're very big," she said. "I've only ever seen ones that big in magazines..."

"Maybe I'm a porn star..." he laughed easily.

"Are you?"

"No...but if I ever change the day job...?"

Zoe smiled. He held out his hand. "Lie by my side. I need to touch you. I want you to touch me. Then... I am going to do things to you that you will never forget..." he murmured huskily.

She lay down next to him and picked up his hand, again feeling the leather covering. "Naked? This never comes off?"

"Never." His answer was curt and suggested he would not even consider discussing the matter.

"What happened to your hand?" she whispered gently and kissed each fingertip. He winced, part embarrassment, part emotion, at the tenderness of her act, so at odds with what they were doing, a  hedonistic casual sex act between two total strangers.

 Even if it didn't actually feel like that.

"Some other time, hey?" he blurted out. She watched him for a moment and he saw a flicker of something in her eyes - but it wasn't pity. Then she let his hand go and rolled over his body. "Kiss me, Nick. Make this feel like love...?"

Paris

"...Annie, will you get off the fucking phone? We've a cab waiting..."

"Honestly, Terry, you should listen to yourself sometimes! You sound like an Australian Archie Bunker. I'm just trying to reason with Liam. Need I say more...?" She uncovered the phone and returned to her conversation. "Sweetie...please be there...it's really important and we haven't seen you all summer....no, I would rather you didn't on this occasion as it's just a very small gathering.... Maybe for drinks another evening?"

"He better bloody not bring that tart...!"

"SHUT UP!" Annie hissed and waved him away "Bye, honey...yeah, yeah...and you...love you..." She hung up. "You are just too much! He could have heard that! You know your voice is like a foghorn..."

"Well? Do you want her there? Some Italian porn queen?"

"She is not a porn queen! She might have made a few films when she was younger but she's a well known socialite now..."

"Bloody nympho tart...." he muttered as he nodded to the bellboy to pick up their cases and hurried her out. 

"I thought you rather approved of Liam's summer of unbridled sex and sun..."

"Yeah, well, I don't blame him fucking her but...I am not sitting round a table and making polite conversation with the forty year old bitch who's been screwing my twenty one year old son. Jesus...she could be his mother..."

Annie laughed as they settled back in the cab to the airport. "What is eating you? That he's getting more than you? Let me tell you this for nothing. If Gina Lollobrigida, or whatever her name is, clapped eyes on you, Liam would be yesterday's chip paper..."

Terry looked across. "What? You crazy? My gut next to his washboard stomach?"

"Every time, love. One day you might actually get to understand women..."

He sat back with a grunt and stared out at the traffic. "Hope the bloody weather's better in New York...."

They traveled on in companiable silence, Annie wondering what had made him so tetchy of late. Well, more so than usual. Terry could be charm personified but he was also a moody sod to live with at times. She smiled to herself and snuggled up against his arm; he absentmindedly made room for her and stroked her tenderly. He was still the best thing she'd ever seen. And she wasn't exactly an easy ride herself.

Later on the plane, comfortable in first class - Annie grateful that Terry's former lifestyle had made him unwilling to travel any other way, one compensation at least - she broached a subject that had been on her mind recently. They were onto their second glass of champagne and he seemed looser than earlier, having kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie.

"Is something bothering you, Terry? Recently you've been preoccupied. You're not about to drop some clanger on my head, are you?" She didn't think this would be like the old days when he might have been about to tell her that he was off on one of his deadly assignments or something. What was worrying her more was that he might be hiding some health problem. Men like him had trashed their bodies over the years and she had these nightmare fears of the long-term consequences of his earlier abuse of himself and the many injuries sustained in the line of duty. He'd had a medical a few weeks back. Was he hiding something?

"Not really. Well, I worry about the kids. Thank Christ, Harry's sorted himself out with a decent girl at last...even if I am finally going to be a granddad..."

"You know you can't wait...Liam's okay. You know he is. Just feeling his oats. He got a good degree. He's a bright kid. Lazy but talented. We can only do so much..."

"Not bothered about him. He's just 5' 11'' of dick at the moment. Pretty normal at his age. That's probably why he's such a dickhead..."

Annie grinned and so did Terry. "...but I'm worried about Zoe..."

They'd had a terrible row a few weeks earlier when Zoe had been home for the summer. So bad, in fact, that she had gone back to the States early and joined some of her girlfriends at their family summer homes, cutting the stay in Europe short. That had hurt Terry who had looked forward to summer with his children, even canceling commitments to be there for them. Liam had then dropped out of sight in Italy and Zoe had left under a cloud. Part of the reason they had now decided to celebrate Annie's fiftieth birthday in New York was to try and build some bridges with their eldest daughter. Annie supposed he was dwelling on how she might react to him; Zoe could be as stubborn and willful as her father - and was often a lot more cruel with her tongue than he ever would have been. In one way they were so close but in another their relationship was full of volatile dynamics. They were actually very alike in personality, much more than Terry would admit. He could not see himself in his beautiful daughter.

"She's fine. We talk all the time. She's really sorry for her temper tantrum. She can't wait to see you again..." Not exactly what Zoe had said, but she knew her daughter was regretting her outburst of a few weeks before. Annie kept her fingers crossed that her husband and daughter would both be a little more circumspect this time.

"Anything else?" Annie tried again, leaning her head on his chest and tucking her legs in to get comfortable. Terry ran his hand down her arm and played with his drink.

"Seeing Nick Costello. Invited him to the dinner..."

Annie sat bolt upright. Nicholas Costello? It was years since they had spent that time in Chile and he had come for a day visit - and stayed five weeks. Since then she had heard about his exploits over the years as Terry still kept in touch and occasionally saw him on his travels but she had never met up with him since.

"...Thought that would pique your interest..." Terry grinned and drained his glass.

"...What's that supposed to mean? I'm just surprised. He's hardly one of the close family..."

"No, but you won't mind ogling him across the table for dinner, will you?" He added with a smirk. "Come on, Annie, you know you got the hots for Nicholas. Like most women in the world - although Christ knows what a sleazy little womanizer like him has that the rest of us don't..."

Annie tutted and punched him playfully. "He's a very attractive guy. And about twelve years younger than me...I'm just an older lady he's polite too..." she retorted but still letting her mind drift to a day a long time ago in Chile when they had been alone in the house and Nick had made a pass at her in the kitchen. He had come up behind her and kissed her neck, running his one good hand round her waist and easing her back against his body. She had pushed him away and told him never to do it again. He had smiled and apologized, telling her that she was driving him crazy but he respected her decision and wouldn't embarrass them both again.

"...What about Terry? He's a good friend. You treat him like a surrogate father!" she had said.

"I've no morals, Annie. If I want a woman, I want her. So I'm a bastard. You knew that anyway..." Nick had shrugged and turned away. She had caught his arm.

"I don't think that's exactly what you are. But I think you don't know what you want. Maybe you see  Terry and me together and you want some of that yourself? But I'm not the answer. There's a woman out there who will be the answer, go find her. You can't have somebody else's life...only your own..."

She wondered had he ever found what he hadn't known then that he was looking for. She had never told Terry what Nick had done. But she knew Terry had always sensed something between his wife and the unruly young officer he had taken under his wing. Never anything improper though. Annie knew that Terry had no doubts about his wife and her fidelity. Or his own anymore.

"He likes you. Always asks after you. Wants to be remembered to my beautiful wife. Calls you 'the one that got away'..." Terry shook his head. "He's a fucking walking prick. Jesus, he's got sexual tastes that scare even me..."

Annie laughed. "And how would you know?"

"Believe me...I know..." Terry retorted enigmatically.

"Well, that was a long, long time ago. I was still young enough to be an 'interesting older woman.' Now I'm rather past even that dubious honour..."

"Don't you believe it. You're still gorgeous. Best looking woman I've ever seen. And still the best arse..." He ran his hand down and gave her a squeeze. "Does it for me anyway..."

"You randy?"

"Always. In my head anyway..." Terry chuckled. "Unless...you fancy mile high?"

"Get lost...! If you think I'm going to start that silly wiggling around and pretending to have an orgasm after dropping my knickers and sitting on a counter top while having my head banged against a mirror and the tap sticking in my bum..." Annie answered, pushing his hand away.

"Jesus...you old chicks are no fun..." he giggled.

"Can I get you anything...?" The stewardess interrupted, leaning over Annie and smiling at Terry. Annie snorted.

"Yeah...do you like confined spaces, love...?" 

Terry grabbed her arm to shut her up. "Thank you no, Miss..." he replied smoothly, still twisting Annie's wrist as she shook with amusement. The stewardess gave them both a scathing look before moving on. "You still like embarrassing me, don't you?" he growled.

"Sure do, mate...good for the soul..." she answered as he tickled her. "Stop it! STOP IT, Terry!" she gasped.

"No chance...you're in big trouble when we land, sweetheart...that was worth a blow at least...."

They both burst out laughing and, after the lights were dimmed, they shared a screen to watch a film until they dozed off, Annie curled up on Terry's chest, as they slept high above the world.