They took a beach house on the coast north of Sydney, a long let for six months. To Zoe, in a sense, it felt like running away. She knew that her parents would both know the truth by now and simply had no wish to engage them further on the subject. She didn't even call her mother to discuss it, simply sending anodyne emails a couple of times a week that could have pretty much meant anything and which implied, but didn't actually state, that she was still in Boston. But it surprised her that her mother did not write back and question her recent behaviour. Zoe had expected her to call her apartment, find out she wasn't there and then freak out at her disappearing act. She had imagined the scene when her Dad had told her Mum and had expected some forceful and cutting contact, demanding some explanation of her conduct and that she returned back to Harvard forthwith.

But Mum had merely replied with short and vague mails of her own. Either she was too angry to even raise the issue or perhaps she was simply not as concerned as Dad about the latest developments. Her Mum must have fond memories of Nick if she had been so reckless to actually have had sex with him back then. That was a weird idea to have to deal with: the knowledge that her mother had once been screwed by Nick. She tried not to think what they might have done together. It's hard enough to accept that your parents actually do it, never mind that Mum might be a bit of a goer on the quiet and be capable of making a play for a younger man. She imagined it would have been pretty conventional sex given the situation and the short time they had had to do the deed. Probably a bit frantic and 'rip your clothes off and get stuck in' sort of sex. And the fact that she could hardly picture her Mum down on her knees giving Nick a bit of tongue also made her redress the image of the scene in her mind to something a little less unpalatable.

She was surprised that it didn't gross her out more though. But it had been so long ago during a time when Nick had been younger and at a really bad place in his life. She knew he had lost his hand in active service just before that on some mission with her Dad and that he had all but given upon life when he had reached Chile to visit them. For some reason Nick had run to her father at that low ebb.  His army career had been effectively over, although she wasn't sure why (surely they could have found him a desk job or some intelligence role?) and his right hand gone. For a proud and vain man like Nick Costello it had knocked him completely for six. No wonder he had been mixed up enough to fall for a seduction from an older woman to boost his flagging confidence and give him some tenderness at a time when he had been so lost and alone.

Yet she still felt pretty shocked by her mother's behaviour. Even in these more liberal times, she found it hard to imagine how a woman could live with herself after doing something like that. Imagine going to bed with Dad that same night? Say he had wanted sex and she had let him? Two men in one day? Christ, that took a bit of rationalizing. You just never knew what people were capable of, even your own parents, did you?

Liam knew where she and Nick were - they had discussed their plans with him that weekend when he had turned up and she knew he wouldn't reveal anything. Anyway, he was so wrapped up in his own life that nothing else really permeated his reality these days.  Family contact with him was also sporadic. But she often missed him. It surprised her just how much. They had always been such sparring partners growing up, constantly needling each other, but underneath they had been pretty much as close as twins, born a year apart. Inside Zoe adored Liam and knew he felt the same about her.  They just never said it. Sometimes she wished it could be as it had once been in the days when he would just be asleep in the next room and they had spent almost every waking hour in each other's company. It's funny how you never appreciate the best things until they are gone. Or was that a sign she was growing up?

There had been no contact with her father. He had mailed her and called off and on but she had switched off her phone if she saw his name and deleted his mails unread. She was just not interested in his attempts to win her back. Let him stew in it. She didn't need him anymore.

The house was simply gorgeous, weathered wood with large sparsely furnished rooms which had so much light and space, rugs scattered on the stripped pine floors, windows everywhere giving out on to the deck that surrounded the entire structure, sea and sky dominating the vistas. They spent their evenings out there under the moon, reading, talking, dancing, playing music and discussing their days when they weren't out on the town, visiting all the various night clubs and music venues, classy restaurants and ethnic eateries, elegant bars and rough and ready pubs that Sydney's hurly burly cosmopolitan hedonism offered.

In the day Nick was busy setting up contacts, traveled widely through the region with some consultancy business he was establishing, while she was deep in her master's thesis, dividing her time between the office she had set up out of a small anteroom which opened out onto the veranda where she often worked in the breezy flower-scented shade or the university library in Sydney. It was an easy and fulfilling time; she felt such peace in this isolated windswept place and such a buzz from the proximity of the beautiful harbour city nearby.

Nick was wonderful. Life with him was like some surreal idyll. He gave her everything she needed and plenty of things she didn't. He was happy and contented, just as pleased to lie around with her and spend long quiet evenings or days mooching round the beach and playing with some stray mutt than had adopted them almost as soon as they had moved in. Nick called him 'Stinker' because he had been such a mess when they found him, covered with sores and maggots. Zoe had been surprised at Nick's tender side, how he had taken the poor dog to the vet's, carrying the foul thing in his immaculate Porsche, and nursed him for weeks until he was back to rude health. But he was still a stinker - the dog was forever farting and Nick seemed to find this hilarious.

He was working hard building up contacts and gaining a lot of ground with multinationals and the like. With his former army credentials and his reputation as an intelligence officer, added to his physical charm and the enigma of his prosthetic hand, he seemed to be able to get doors to open and contracts to fall on his lap. That was typical of the golden boy he had always been. Nick said money had always been easy for him to make. Jobs always tumbled his way. But he had never before been lucky in his personal life. For once all the counters were falling in a line. He felt blessed.

So far he had set up a number of training courses with international companies in the Asia - Pacific region to beef up their security systems and assist their standing teams. Nick conducted little of this having rounded up a network of guys, mostly military and intelligence who wanted an easier and more remunerative option for their skills. His expertise was in the schmoozing; at that he was a past master. He also had a network of highly trained bodyguards he had whipped up into shape and who were working with celebrities, politicians and other people who needed such people in their entourages.

But true to his word, Nick was keeping his nose clean and doing nothing remotely dangerous. It would appear he had seamlessly moved from whatever shady world he had inhabited a few months before into some corporate entrepreneurial role. And the money kept pouring in. The New York apartment had sold for way more than he had expected and they were now looking for a property on the harbour. They lived the dream. She was beginning to take it all for granted.

"I'm away tomorrow. Just a two day trip. Perth. Wanna come?" He asked as she was preparing dinner that evening.

Zoe carried on chopped herbs and shook her head. "I can't. A couple of girls from the gym asked me to go to dinner and a club with them tomorrow. I said I would."

"Club? What club?" His head had shot up at her comment and his answer had come back rather faster than she liked. He was always awkward about her doing things on her own.

She shrugged. "I dunno. Just a girls' thing. Come on, Nick, I've got to make friends of my own age. I need girlfriends. I'm pretty isolated here..."

"Some guy's going to hit on you and give you a hard time. You know what fucking animals these hoons are...and I know how much booze you girls put away when you get on your own."

"So what you saying? I can't go out with friends?" She snapped back.

"I didn't say that. Just that, you're not single anymore. It isn't appropriate to be going to those meat markets. Most of your mates will be looking for some cock. Some guy picks them up, they'll drop you and you'll be left stranded. I am not having you alone in a taxi queue at some ungodly hour of the morning..."

"Nick...these girls are all with partners. They are not looking for men. This is simply girls having a night out. Don't be so ridiculous."

"I know men."

"I know women. Get over it. What do you want? Me stuck here like a bird in a gilded cage? You go where you like. I never object. Give me some independence!"

He pulled a face. "I just worry about you. And I only go away to work. You never see me go out with the boys..."

"...You haven't any friends, Nick. You don't make them. Even the guys who work for you would never think to include you in their nights out."

He frowned, not liking her comment much, even if it were true. He didn't encourage much closeness with anyone he met in the business world. If he saw them in the evening he had a motive and just hanging out was never one of them.

"I just want to be with you. Is that so wrong? I love you. You're my girl. You want me to be the kind of bloke who's running around town with a pack of dogs getting drunk and banging girls behind your back?"

She sighed. "Of course not! Nick...I love that you want to be with me all the time, but I need girlfriends! To talk crap with. Makeup, fashion, trivial stuff....serious stuff...books... films... men....Nick, I'm twenty two! I'm just a kid..."

He smiled and put his arms around her as she carried on with the food preparation, leaning his head against hers. "I'm sorry, princess, I don't mean to be like that. I'm just a guy. I get worried for you. I get scared someone will hurt you. I just want to keep you safe from all the leeches out there. But you're right. I'll go to Perth. You go out with the girls. Where did you meet them? The club?"

"Yeah...we do this Pilates class together. They live near here. Some have got little kids, others don't have to work. Rich boyfriends. Like me, I suppose,' she added ruefully.

"You're not my mistress. You're a student." Nick said emphatically.

"Whatever," Zoe added unconvinced. "They thought I was a model or an actress or something. One of them asked me why I wasn't. I said I can't act! She said, "So? Half of the gorgeous women in the movies can't but it never stopped them...' Anyway we got chatting and they asked me to join their little monthly night out thing. You'd like them. More to the point, they'd like you," she grinned imagining the furore Nick would make in this gaggle of desperate housewives.

"You think so? Ya reckon I've still got it?" he teased.

She dug him in the ribs. "You know you have. And while we're on the subject. I think I'm the one who should worry when you go on one of your little jaunts. God knows what you do for recreation on the lonely nights away from home!" She feigned a nonchalance that she didn't feel. It often worried her that he was bound to stray when he got bored. What would it mean to a man of his former lifestyle?

"Are you crazy?" he sprang back, angry at the insinuation. "What the fuck you talking about? I'm not interested. Baby, you are the only woman I ever even think about these days. I swear it. I've had too many and too much of the other. It no longer is of any interest. I hate that. Men who play around behind their wives' backs. I might have been a bastard with women but I never made a promise I wasn't prepared to keep. I have now. You think I've got no morals? I've got morals. I do what I say I'll do. And I do. And I've told you I will never touch another woman but you. And I mean it. I really mean it."

Zoe turned to look at him and saw the febrile gleam in his eye, that look so intense that on occasion it scared her. He had such powerful emotions and such terrifying mood swings at times. Things that other people would shrug off seemed to send him into wild frenzies and things that would worry most hardly caused him a second thought. Sometimes she wondered if there was a button in him that if pressed would release a man she wouldn't even recognize. And then he would swing her round again, dance her about the kitchen and make such beautiful love to her than she began to think her morbid thoughts were just the product of her over active imagination. He was a mature man in love for the first time and his passion was just amazing to witness. Who was she to doubt its sincerity?

"Come on. Let me get on....the chicken's almost done and I haven't finished the salad...go open a nice bottle of Verdelho...make yourself useful, Costello..."

"Damn....!" Dino was just settling down to a glass of malt and a fine piece of Jazz when the house phone rang. Mel sighed and went to answer it. He shook his head and took the call.

"Lapenti."

Mel watched as he listened with little sign of emotion betrayed on his face. If he wasn't speaking this was probably serious. Did they never get a break?

"I'll be there. Give me half an hour. Keep an eye and don't give him anymore..."

"What is it? Are you off out...?" Mel began. 

"...Not business. That was a guy named Bertie. Old barman runs a place we used to frequent years ago. He still had my number."

Mel looked confused. "What's this about?"

"Terry. Bertie says he's been there for hours and is drinking the place dry. At the moment he's fairly quiet but he looks like he's going to break out soon. I've gotta go and stop him before he starts fighting and gets himself arrested."

"Terry? Our Terry?" Mel asked, amazed. Dino gave a reluctant nod. "Drunk in a bar downtown? You crazy? The guy must be mistaken. They flew back last night..."

Dino merely raised an eyebrow. Mel jumped up and ran to get her jacket. "Wait for me. Let me just tell Nate we'll be out for awhile. He's in charge...."

"I don't need you to come. Come on, Mel, he could be in a state..."

"Exactly. And how you going to drive and handle a drunk and disorderly Terry at the same time...?"

She was right and in a way he was more than pleased to have her with him. Whatever was going on, it must be bad and he wasn't sure himself that he could handle it without her support. He might be the lifeline here for Terry but it worked both ways. It was pretty tough to see the rock himself on the rocks.

He was slumped at the end of the bar, staring morosely into the bottom of his empty glass, smoking. Even in that state his eye shot to the door as it opened and he groaned loudly when he saw who it was. "Fuck me if it isn't the fucking US cavalry...and the British army bringing up the fucking rear..."

"Evening, Bertie..." Dino nodded to the bartender who looked relieved to say the least. "What we gonna do with you, hot shot...?"

"Buy me a drink. This fuckwit says I've had enough," Terry glared malevolently at Bertie.

"Sure thing. Bertie. Pot of coffee. On me."

"I'm not drinking fucking coffee..."

"Tea then?

"Fuck off..."

Mel slipped into the stool by his side. "Come home with us, Terry. You need to get some rest. Whatever it is, you can't solve it in the bottom of a glass. Please....come home - for me?"

He turned and stared at her unblinking and then his face softened. He reached out and touched her cheek. "I'd do anything for you, you know that?"

She smiled and took his arm; he let her ease him off the stool like a little child with no complaint. On two feet he staggered, clearly more drunk than he had appeared; Mel stumbled beneath his full weight and Dino stepped in, dragging Terry's arm round his neck and shouldering the main thrust.

'Come on, pal...easy does it...that's it...okay let's go take a piss first...you'll feel better then..." He led Terry to the Men's room and let him stagger in, watching from a safe distance while he urinated, waving slightly but managing to control the flow in the general direction. It was about as much as Dino was prepared to do for a friend. If he wet his pants, that was his problem.

They managed to get him into the back of the car without too much further problem. Terry was quiet now; they both thought he might simply fall asleep. "You drive," Mel suggested. "He's not going to be awkward with me. Terry wouldn't give a woman a hard time, even smashed. And he's fading out here, I think. God, he must have drunk a bloody shitload to make him like this..."

"I know. More's the point what's happened to make him want to? Where is she? Is it one of the kids, you think? Let's just get him home..." Mel slipped in beside Terry while Dino jumped into the driver's seat and sped off into the night.

Terry lay slumped staring out at the rain. Mel watched him and wondered what on earth had provoked this. He suddenly muttered something which she couldn't quite catch. "What did you say, Terry?"

He turned and seemed surprised to see her there. "Where we goin'..?"

"To our home. It's better we take you there...or do you want to go somewhere else?"

"...Like where?" he began to laugh softly. "Where the fuck I got to go?" His laughter was bitter and mocking, not a tone he usually used.

"Is everything all right, Terry? Where's Annie?"

"Don't know. England. Maybe," was his terse reply.

"The kids?"

"Don't know." Even less information.

Dino turned his head to make eye contact with Mel, indicating she should prod a little further.

"Is everyone all right? Has something happened?" Mel continued.

Terry eyed her solemnly. "Nothing much. They're all okay. Somewhere. They don't need me anymore, y'see. They've got fucking Costello now, haven't they? If he hasn't changed his name to fucking Terrence fucking Andrew fucking Thorne by now, that is... I'm surplus to requirements...Hey, it happens...shit happens...and then you fucking die, mate...."

Back home, they manhandled him upstairs and sat him on the guest bed. Dino went to the bathroom to get a glass of cold water for him while Mel shook off his leather jacket and unfastened the buttons of his shirt. "You getting frisky with me, Mel?" he muttered and began to fondle her buttocks. She pushed his hands away.

"You're drunk, Terry. Stop it!" she said, taking off his shirt and kneeling to remove his shoes and socks.

"I still remember, y'know? Never forget a memorable fuck. That was quite a night, wasn't it, Mel? You and me. We did it all...all night...I always did like a woman with a healthy attitude to sex...."

"Terry, shut up!" Mel insisted and pushed him back on the bed; he flopped there with a giggle that seemed incredibly unlike him and yet was clearly a sound he was more than capable of making. It rang a bell from long ago. She remembered him chuckling like that the first night she had met him and it had seemed adorable to her then. Now it was just an embarrassing reminder.

Standing up, she undid his belt and paused before shrugging off her hesitation and unzipping his pants. He seemed to be drifting off again and the hand that snaked out to grab her wrist surprised her. "You trying to get in my pants? You know I always had a thing about you....I don't like my women too thin..." he grunted and pushed her hand towards the soft bulge between his legs, fondling a breast with another.

"I think that's enough, hermano..." Dino's voice broke in from behind her back. It was soft spoken but Mel could hear the note of caution.

Terry glanced up and grinned. "Sorry, mate...no worries....I'm too drunk to do any damage..."

"And I'm sober enough to do a great deal..."

"Dino! He doesn't know what he's doing!" Mel retorted.

"Au contraire...In vino veritas, honey...you go make a nice cup of coffee while I finish up here..."

She stood up and stepped away as Dino roughly pulled Terry's pants from the ankle and jerked them off him. Her eyes flickered to the well filled pouch of his snug briefs and a sudden frisson of memory hit her. It was almost impossible to believe that she had once sucked him off, taken him inside her, let him do anything he wanted to her body. But that fact was undeniable.

And she realized then that it had always lain between them.

Outside in the kitchen, Dino joined her shortly afterwards. "He okay?"

Dino accepted the cup of coffee with a shrug. "He'll think he's been run over by an express train when he wakes up but he'll live."

"Did he say anything else?"

He shook his head. "Nothing I could make much sense out of but the name Costello featured a few times. He mentioned Zoe and Liam. But there was one noticeable omission..."

"What?"

"He never said Annie's name even once. Which worries me a lot. That's Terry closing down. God knows what has happened here but it's bad, Mel. Really bad..."

She thought for a moment. "You think Costello's involved? With Annie? You surely don't think...Oh my God!" her hand flew to her mouth as she abruptly stopped in mid-sentence.

"What is it? What do you know?" He was onto it straight away.

Mel groaned and ran her hand through her hair. "It was just a bit of frivolous girl talk. Annie was a bit low and I was just teasing but...I told her to have a fling with some young stud...perk her up a bit....I never imagined that she'd seriously consider it..."

"Jesus Christ....if Costello's made a move on her and Terry's found out...Jesus Christ...he'll never forgive her...what man would?"

Mel kept her peace. That was men for you. That was always the way they reacted. They make a mistake, you're supposed to forgive them. You make a mistake and you are out on your ear regardless of how many good years lie between you.

She said a silent prayer that they were wrong and this was not about Annie and the enigma that was Nicholas Costello.

He hadn't been back to Perth in more years than he could remember. Hiring a car he drove around for an hour or so and realized he was in Nedlands where he had grown up. It was on mere instinct that he found himself turning down the well remembered suburban streets to his family home. Stopping outside, he waited and thought awhile, unused to acting on whim but feeling that maybe there was a real reason for this moment. He had been away too long. Life was changing now. They were old and he ought to look them up. It would cost him so little to simply call in and say hello. Tell them about him and Zoe. It was all they had ever wanted. Their son to settle down, meet a decent girl and give them some babies with the family name.

He got out of the sports car and sauntered over to the small gate, easing it open he stepped up the drive, imagining his mother and the torrent of Greek as she realized who had turned up like the proverbial bad penny. He rang the doorbell, looking around him. There was a toddler's bike lying on the lawn and the whole place looked like it had had a face lift, been modernized. He gave it some thought. He hadn't been back in years; maybe one of his sister's had had the place renovated. The toy would belong to some grandkid he didn't even know existed.

"Hi? Can I help you? If this is some sales gimmick then I'm not interested, mate..."

Nick turned round with a start, surprised at how easily this woman had got the jump on him. "Sorry...who are you? One of Rene's?"

"I beg your pardon?" The young woman asked. A little boy pushed round her legs and peeped at him.

"I'm sorry. I was looking for the Costellos. This is their place."

She smiled in understanding. "Oh, they sold up more than two years ago. The old people had died, I think."

For a moment he felt as if had been sucked into some tunnel and the woman had receded far into the distance. There was a rushing sound, like wind howling, and his vision seemed to fade. He thought he was going to pass out. Was this what shock felt like?

"You okay? You look pale..." Her voice seemed to come to him from far away and he forced himself to regain control.

"Yeah...you...you...got an address or something?" He muttered, trying to make sense of it all. His mother and father were dead? Several years? And no one had even thought to tell him?

"No, sorry. I could probably find the name of the lawyer who handled the sale..."

"It doesn't matter. Thanks anyway," he turned to go.

"You close to them? I mean, I'm sorry if I was a bit brutal there. I didn't know you knew them that well... are you one of the family...?"

He forced a wry smile. "No worries, love. I'm nobody special. I used to know their son. Thought he might still be around. I've been away a long time..."

Her lips formed an 'O' sound. He noticed her give him a look over and how her eyes drifted to the high performance rental sports car parked on the road outside. He could see she looked impressed, wondering who he was and if he was some local boy made good. He didn't want to have to make any further explanations.

"Thanks for your time..." He replaced his shades and loped off back to the car, feigning a cool he did not feel. His heart was pounding rapidly. He wasn't sure why. Why was he so affected by the news that he could never again see two people that he didn't even want to see again anyway?

If he didn't why was he here then? 

Back in the car, he drove slowly down the lane and parked further up, by the side of a footie field where he had used to play as a kid. He dropped his head and buried his face in his hands for a few seconds, resting on the wheel trying to work out what he did next. He felt angry and hurt. Why had no one informed him? He reckoned he knew straight off. They'd wanted to get their hands on the little bit of money that the old man had left. Had to be. He didn't blame them for claiming it as theirs but he resented that they had excluded him from the fact of his parents' death. He didn't want the bloody money. Jesus Christ, he had enough of his own!

With a sudden decision, he drove towards the family restaurant a mile or two away on the high street. Da Maria.  The old place had gone. It was now a chic stainless steel and glass Italian upscale pizzeria, part of a chain of trendy restaurants, Prego!, that were slowly replacing the old family businesses with such oddities as pizza with hoi sin duck and spring onions. His father would have had a heart attack at the thought of such travesties. Nick laughed sadly to himself. He probably had in the end.

Driving aimlessly about, he found himself passing the cemetery. On a whim he pulled in and went to the office, inquiring about a family grave. It was there. The man behind the desk gave him the details from the files and pointed out the row where he could find it.

"Anywhere around here you can buy flowers?" Nick asked brusquely. The man showed him where there was a flower shop, set up by the gates. He bought an armful, unsure what you were supposed to do in the circumstances.

It was a hot sunny day as he strolled through the neat and tidy rows of sadness. Dead people. All ages. Lives ended. Out of the game for good. He knew death well enough. But not the consequences of dying. He'd never lost anyone he cared about. He'd never really cared about anyone.  Until now.

It didn't take him long to find it. It was a large, rather excessive monument, white marble crested with a weeping angel, typical of the sentimental religiosity of his people. In the traditional way, there were photographs of the deceased set behind Perspex windows, serious frozen-in-time images of his mother and father taken when they were younger. They way he remembered them when he was small. Pietro Antonio Costello. Maria Sophia Efkeliotides. His parents. Papa had died first and then Mama a few months later.

He knelt down and placed the flowers on the grave, scattering them slightly. It was well tended, cared for, flowers only a few days old in the vases set into the ground. He wondered if he could remember a prayer that he might say. Eternal rest or something? Let perpetual light shine upon them? He remembered he used to get the words wrong as a kid. Let petrol light shine upon them, he'd said. His mother hadn't known the difference; her English was never particularly strong. A nun at school had shown him up before the class for his error. "Doesn't your mother make you say your prayers properly?"

He had gone home and had a tantrum with her for being a stupid old woman. Five years' old and he could even then humiliate a grown woman. Nice kid, hey?

"Nikos! My God...Nikos!"

He spun round at the sound of her voice. "Eleni?"

It was his sister, Helena, the younger of the two. She looked so old. Grey hair, matronly, dumpy and plain. Like an old woman. His sisters had both favoured their squat heavy featured swarthy father not their delicate sparrow-like mother. Nick did a quick calculation. She was about fifty. Same age as Anna Thorne. Good God, imagine that! Put those two side by side! Anna, sleek, groomed and lovely, next to his unattractive sister and you would imagine they were a generation apart. How does that happen to a woman? Why didn't she take more care of herself?

"Nikos! It is you! Oh my God, where have you been? We've been trying to find you for years!"

He straightened up and looked at her. "Yeah, well you didn't exactly try too hard. It isn't difficult to find people..."

"Well, the lawyers did their best. They said you were no longer resident in Australia. The army had no idea where you were. What could we do?"

Nick thought about it. Yeah, how could they have found him? He was buried so deep half the time that his right ball didn't know where his left was. How would these suburban people even begin to trace a man who had left his trail cold enough to keep the experts off his tail?  He hadn't really considered that before. He should have left some means of contact with a lawyer. But such routes were dangerous and could be traced back if you knew what you were doing.

He shrugged. "Fair enough. I was in the US. New York. I've lived there for the past six years..."

"New York? Really? Do you work there? Did you get married?" 

He smiled. "Sort of. Work, I mean. No, I'm not married. Still fancy free..."

Helena gave him a warm, affectionate appraisal. "You never age! Or do you just get better? The women must still never leave you alone."

He gave her a soft smile but didn't reply. "What happened to them?" He indicated his parents. Helena sighed.

"Dad died suddenly. A massive coronary one night. He didn't suffer. Mum just gave up. She'd been fine up to then but once he'd gone she aged so quickly. Went senile almost overnight. Couldn't recognise us. Talked to Papa as if he was still there.  Always talking about you. She thought my son, Casey, was you. He's dark and pretty good looking. Twenty years old now. She thought he was you as a young man...Niko,you were all she ever cared about...apart from Papa..."

He saw her flinch at that. Fifty years the faithful daughter and your mother doesn't even remember your name at the end. 

"One night she just died in her sleep. That was it. We never even got to say goodbye. We had to sell the house - luckily it was left to us or we wouldn't have been able to do it without your signature. Everything else went to you. It's being held for you in probate...."

"What?"

"It's quite a lot. Papa had sold the restaurant and invested the money. He also owned the block, did you know that? He was worth quite a fortune. Imagine that? And they still lived in that little house and Mum scrimped and saved. But it had all been for you. I'll give you the lawyer's number. You must go and sort it all out..." Helena fumbled in her handbag for a pen and a piece of paper. Nick stopped her.

"You mean all you got was the house?"

Helena gave a rueful look. "No, that went to the grandsons to share between them. Irene and I got $5000 each. The granddaughters got nothing. After all....they might allow his hard earned property to feather the nest of some other man....you know Papa..."

"The old bastard! The fucking old bastard! After treating you two like unpaid slaves for years? The bastard!"

His sister just shrugged. "It's not worth it, Nikos, it's how they are. The old country mentality. You are his only son. It all goes to you and your babies. It isn't like we didn't know. He was always warning us: 'Don't think like you gonna get my money just because you hang round here waiting for me to die...'What can you say? We don't blame you. Never did really. Oh, we used to get mad when we were younger but it wasn't really about you. You were just the scapegoat. You couldn't help being the golden boy. Or the son. Just an accident of birth. Nikos...it's good to see you. Really good. You must come to dinner. Tell us all about your fascinating life..."

"You in a car?" Nick suddenly asked her.

She shook her head. "I never learnt to drive. I just get the bus. Why?"

He took her hand. "Come with me, we gotta go somewhere..."

"Where?" She laughed at his spontaneity and almost ran to keep up with his long legged stride. 

"Lawyer's. Call Rene."

"Why?"

Nick looked over at her. "To put one thing right at last. The money's yours and Rene's. Not mine. Don't want it. Don't need it. I never did anything for anyone in this family. Time I did something right."

Helena stopped dead. "All of it? You know how much it is? It's a lot of money..."

"Don't give a fuck. It's not mine. I know I'm not much of a son or a brother but I'm not a leech. And I want you to have it for all the things I never was and should have been. Please...take it...I need to know you're all provided for. I need to know I made it right in the end..."

She seemed unable to speak, stopping dead on the path as Nick laughed and ran ahead flipping the remote on his car. He spun round and point ed a finger at her. "Oh... there's a proviso...that you bloody well learn to drive and get a motor of your own. Fail to comply and you get nothing. You got that?"

"You always were crazy, Niko. But I always loved you. Even if I never told you!" She ran up and threw her arms around him; he picked her off her feet and gave her a kiss.

"Hey, you want to have me crying here in public? It'll ruin my street cred... Get in...watch your head...it's a fucking speed demon not a family sedan..."

Later that afternoon, over a long lunch in a rather elegant Greek restaurant in central Perth, Nick and his sisters caught up on old times. Rene was still a little reserved with him, openly disapproving of his manner and the casual use of profane expletives that peppered his speech. She had always been more bitter than Helena who was softer and more forgiving by nature. But Irene had had a hard life, deserted by a philandering husband years ago, bringing up her two children alone. Even the treat of a fine meal seemed to make her angry, nervous and critical of Nick for taking her to a place that was too smart for her, where her clothes didn't fit and where she felt everyone was judging her for her awkwardness and lack of chic.

But in time, and after a few glasses of wine, she lightened up and they toasted to their new found fortune - and the reappearance of their long lost younger brother - in fine champagne.

"Your hand?" Irene mentioned gruffly. "The false one is very realistic. How do you manage?"

Nick hunched his shoulders. "Same as everyone else. I've got two hands. Just one came out of a lab, that's all. It works fine."

"What did you do when you left the army? You look like you made a lot of money..." Helena asked.

"I did. Make a lot of money. Not from the army. I worked in international security. Pretty confidential field but they pay well..."

"Is it like spies?" Helena asked, her eyes widening.

"No...it's more like bodyguards but just on a posher scale. Anyway, I just retired. Met this girl. Brought her home. Want something a bit more secure. Starting a consultancy business based in Sydney..."

He blushed slightly as he said it; it was quite charming and wholly unexpected from the brash Nicholas. The two sisters exchanged glances.

"A girl? An American girl? You're going to get married?"

He laughed broadly. "Hey, steady on...let's say it's on the cards. Haven't asked her yet. She might say no.  But reckon I will one of these days. No, Zoe's not American..."

"Zoe? She's Greek! Oh my God!" Irene gasped.

Nick shook his head. "No...not Greek. Australian...well, her Mum's a Pom, but her Dad's from Sydney....look, want to see a photie?" He pulled out his phone and downloaded a few images, flicking through them for the women to see. They cooed over the shots of Nick and Zoe together.

"She's a beautiful girl...but so young, Nick...! You devil...Is she out of school yet?"

He grinned. "She's twenty two. Very bright girl. Oxford and Harvard. Lovely woman - inside as well as out. You've no idea just how special she is...That's her brother...Liam...he's a great kid..."

"Twenty two! So young! You better look after her, Nikos! None of your womanizing, you hear?" Irene said in a motherly way.

"No way. She's for keeps. Gonna settle down and give her lots of beautiful babies. Time to be a Dad. What d'ya say to that?" he postured with a broad grin so unlike his usual blasé manner.

Helena ruffled his hair. "I say that Mama and Papa would have been proud of you. You've made a good life for yourself and you've done well. Marrying a girl who loves you and having a family. What more is there in life that counts?"

She was right. What else mattered in the final analysis but that you got the girl and built the dream with her? It had taken him a long time to get here but he knew it felt right now that he was. He might have blown his chances with his family but he could now have a second opportunity to make his future with a new family of his own.

And this time there was no question of his fucking up.

"You're flying to LA? What a coincidence. Me too!" Deborah Stavin told Liam some time later as they neared the airport. It had been a pleasant ride; both had chatted amiably to pass the time on the journey through the traffic. Deborah seemed a nice lady, Liam thought, and he was the kind of guy who could talk to anyone.

"Really?"

"We should travel together. I hate flying alone. What say I see if I can get you upgraded? I've got a few contacts...first class has to beat coach...?"

Liam shrugged his shoulders. "Can you do that? Great...if you don't mind...yeah, please....it's very kind of you..."

"Not at all," Deborah smiled benignly. "The pleasure would be all mine, Liam. A personable young man to keep me company and drive off the jerks who like to make passes at unaccompanied women. It always happens when I fly. I don't know what gets into most men when they get on a plane...they seem to think every woman fair game..."

Liam felt a little uncomfortable at that. Something about her comment suddenly sounded rehearsed. He wasn't quite sure he was falling for this little charade. It was all a bit too off pat; her introduction of the topic of being harassed by men seemed unnecessary. Travel first class and you are not in danger of being hassled. One word to a steward would soon sort that out. It occurred to him it was more likely she was raising the notion of sex for a very different reason. His summer spent largely servicing bored older women had primed him for the way they move in. They like to pretend they are lonely and ill-used by men and not normally inclined to promiscuity. They just want to be protected from the dangers. Would you escort them so that they could get a night out that didn't involve them having to pay for it later on their backs...? This generally came just before they grabbed your dick and made a very blatant play. But their consciences seemed clear. It was not sluttish behaviour but just need and vulnerability - coupled with his charm and irresistible innocent sex appeal being too much for them to withstand. Oh boy, did he know the way it worked.

And then they paid for the dinner and he worked off the cost of the evening - on his front. 

He smiled shyly as they neared the airport terminal, staring out of the taxi cab window in thought. Okay, first class ticket in return for boning her? That what this was about? She was a beautiful woman, although he imagined she would be pretty cold and expect him to do all the work. But it had been awhile. A gorgeous woman offers it on a plate. Why not?

They checked in and, true to her word, he was given his upgrade. They waited together in the first class lounge but Liam began to realize that he wasn't finding her company easy to take. He was getting tired of it. Frankly he didn't have much more to say to her by then and her presumption of her control over him was galling. She was also asking him a lot of questions about himself and he didn't want to talk about personal things. If they went somewhere and had a fuck, it would mean nothing. His real life was off limits to women like her.

"Liam...look at the board...! We're delayed another hour...God, what a bore..." Deborah came back to where he was seated, with two champagne flutes. "I was just thinking...how about a day room? We could get a shower and freshen up. I hate hanging round in these places..."

He gave her a look and then exhaled. "Look, Deborah...can we stop beating around the bush? What's this really about?"

She feigned surprise. "About? What do you mean?"

"Are you making a suggestion that we go and get more acquainted? Intimately? Have sex?  Is that what this is really about, Debbie?" He decided to be direct. If she slapped his face, so what?

"Deborah, please. I dislike diminutives of given names..." She sank down by his side and put a hand softly on his leg, stroking the worn denim and looking him straight in the eye. "I'm lonely, Liam. My husband has a mistress and I'm tired of being made a fool of. I just want a man to hold me for a little while. Is that so very wrong? I've never made an offer like this to a man before but...you're such a beautiful young man and I know you'll be tender with me. Please...would it be so hard for you to do this for me?"

He removed her hand. It was all making him feel a little sick. Somehow she just didn't convince him. There was something not right here. Deborah was glacial and smart, nothing really like the rather desperate beauties he had been associating with in Italy. Her story was ringing more and more false the longer he was with her.

And he suddenly realized something else. He didn't even feel in the least aroused by her, which was an unusual situation for him. He was generally half way there at any time of the day or night. But Deborah Stavin had killed his latent libido stone dead. Whether this was merely the result of his having had far too much meaningless causal sex in the past or an active dislike for this predatory femme fatale act, he wasn't sure.

But he was not going to any day room with her. His mind was made up.

Removing her hand purposefully from his thigh, he gave her his wide eyed innocent look. "I don't think this is going to work, Deborah. I'm flattered - very flattered - that you would make this offer but I just don't do the casual sex thing. It's not me."

"You've got a girlfriend? You're being faithful? How quaintly devoted of you..." Deborah mocked.

Liam bridled at her manner. "No girlfriend. But I simply don't do the one night stand thing. It seems a bit sad. I think men and women should respect each other more than that..." He knew it sounded trite but he couldn't think of another get out on the spot. Let her think he was just some soulful guy with high moral principles.

Deborah sat back and gave him a scathing look. "Very sweet. But not very convincing. You mean you don't think you can get it up? Or is it more like you haven't got the experience for a woman like me? You're not a virgin, are you? If lack of technique is your problem, Liam, then I would love to show you the benefit of my knowledge...I can give you the best time you've ever had...and that will stand you in such good stead when you make this real emotional connection with a girl..."

"No." He was getting annoyed now, her teasing mockery irritating him. "I'm quite happy with my level of expertise. And so are the women I sleep with, Ms. Stavin. It's just that you don't do anything for me. I'm sorry to be so blunt but you seem to be laying the cards out on the table yourself. And by the way, I happen to like diminutives for given names. I'm Australian, Debs."

"You're not seriously turning me down, are you? Christ, you'll not get a better offer in a lifetime, you arrogant little fuck! I just pulled your privileges, honey. Go queue up with the rest of the riff raff..."

"...My pleasure, ma'am. Thanks for proving me right. We've a saying back home in Oz for women like you. I wouldn't fuck her with someone else's dick...it just never seemed so apt before. G'day, love..."

Liam picked up his guitar, the only hand luggage he was carrying, and walked off, smiling to himself. Jesus, what a harpy! He should write a song about her....

"So tell us about this mystery man of yours!" Kelly addressed Zoe directly as they finished their desserts and sipped coffee. The other girls exchanged grins and settled in for a good natter.

"Mystery man? You mean my Nick? What's the mystery? He's just my bloke." Zoe giggled.

"The mystery is that you never say anything about him and we've never seen him if you can discount the times he zooms up the street in that black Porsche of his. Come on, girl...dish...."

Zoe smiled dreamily. "He's thirty seven. Born in Perth. Used to live in New York, back here now and setting up a business. That's all."

Camilla shook her head. "Not enough. He made his pile in the States, did he? What's he in?"

Zoe thought about that. "Security."

"What house, car alarms, that sort of thing?" she went on.

"No...er...personal security. Companies with risky businesses overseas, embassies, people in the public eye who can be targeted..."

"Bodyguards?"

"Yeah....partly...that sort of thing..." Zoe replied evasively, more than aware that she wasn't actually fully conversant herself with his field.

Camilla seemed interested. "You should meet Mark...my husband. He's in telecommunications. He has factories all over in some real dodgy locations....Philippines, Indonesia...Thailand. He was just saying that he didn't think in the current climate that the clowns he had in security were doing enough...why don't you come round some night for dinner.... he might put a bit of business Nick's way..."

"Sure...anytime... he'd be interested and...he's really good. Ex-special forces and was quite a name in his field. Nick's the real McCoy..." She couldn't help boasting about him even though she knew it was probably unwise to give too much away.

"Woo...Danger Man, hey?" Susie joked. She was British and married to a famous tennis player, now retired, but running a select tennis academy from his vineyard out at Hunter Valley. But they also kept a property at Mossman and Susie preferred life there. "You know, a lot of top sportsmen need that sort of thing nowadays. There are so many wackos out there...I'll have a word with Conor..."

"Hey, thanks... He's away on business and I bring in more by going out with the girls. He will be impressed!" Zoe retorted.

"You known him long?" Kiri a beautiful New Zealander married to a businessman chipped in.

She shrugged. "About three months. No... not long. But it's been pretty intense. He's like that...full on, you know?"

"Sounds like a pretty amazing bloke. You not scared that he'll mess around when he travels?" Kiri asked.

Zoe shrugged. "Not really. I mean, he loves me. He's had plenty of women in the past. He wouldn't be with me if it wasn't what he wanted..."

"I love your trust in him. Let's hope he deserves it, eh?" Susie added, rather bitterly, and raised her glass. They all toasted to trust. Zoe had the feeling that they were rather amused by her comment. She wondered if she just sounded like a naïve child to these jaded wives and girlfriends.

The night had gone well though. From the restaurant they went to a nightclub, managing to avoid too much unwanted attention although four beautiful and obviously affluent women were a focus for male interest. They danced with a few guys but made it clear they were not interested in being picked up. About two, Camilla announced that her driver was here to take her home - did they want a ride?- and they all decided to call it a night. Zoe was half surprised that Nick hadn't turned by then to take her home. All along she had had this sneaking feeling that he would not let her have this evening without having to come and take possession of her again. She was rather relieved he had not.

She was also a little down that she was going home without him. Now what did that say about her?

The next day she was restless, busying herself out and about, unable to settle to her work or hang about at home. She wanted him back. She couldn't sit still to wait for his return. In the early afternoon, she got a message on her cell; he must have tried to call her when she was having a treatment at the spa.

All night she waited for the sound of his engine. He had left his car at the airport, hating cabs. It had a distinctive sound, mostly because of the reckless way he drove it, she thought laughing to herself. And then she began to worry that maybe he had had an accident. It could happen. Even to him.

The night wore on; she was like a cat on hot bricks. Finally she heard the revs as he turned off the main road into the side road that led to the few beach homes that flanked theirs. Dashing for the main door, she skittered down the stairs and out onto the driveway as he came to a skidding halt and left the car at a run, slamming the driver's door shut behind him. Stinker had dashed out with her and was joining in the reunion, barking loudly, excited at Nick's return.

"Bugger off, Stink...I've got a big job on here..." he toed the dog away and grinned as he posed in a 'Look who's back!' stance holding his arms out to her.

Zoe jumped on him and wrapped her legs about his waist; he swung her round and round. "God, I missed you...I missed you so bloody much..." he whispered as he kissed her passionately and he carried her into the house.

She pulled at his clothes as he ripped open the little blouse she was wearing baring her naked breasts to his lips. She chortled with glee and then wriggled away out of his hands. "No! We are going to do this my way. I've been thinking about this..." She informed him. He smiled tolerantly.

"That so? Okay, wild woman, whatcha got in mind for me?"

"Strip. Right here. Get it all off. Now!" she ordered. He stood, hands on hips, grinning and then obliged, divesting himself of shirt, jacket, tie, shoes and socks, dropping his pants and pulling off his shorts until he stood in the hallway, stark naked.

"And...?"

"Turn round." He obliged. "Hands above your head...straight up... flex that glute...." With a nonchalant sigh, he followed her orders. "You getting off on this, baby?" he joked.

"Sure am. You got one fine arse, Nicky...I just love to run my fingers down your crease..." He felt her stand close and stroke his crack; she moaned softly and he gave a deep groan. "Go on....do what you like..." he muttered. The fingers of her other hand snaked round his narrow hip and she grasped his cock, which was already rising just at her proximity. He made a very much more pronounced grunt at that, faking the exaggerated noises of porn stars; she giggled. "Do it to me, baby..." he said in a deep voice.

"Nope. Shower first. You've been in those clothes all day." She slapped his rump and pushed him towards the stairs; he climbed them with her not far behind, making crude comments about his nakedness and the swing of his balls as he walked. She was sure in a horny mood tonight.

In the bathroom, she ordered him into the shower, leaving open the door. "Wash yourself and let me watch. Touch yourself. I want to see you wank for me..." she murmured tugging on his dick to pull him towards her. He laughed and obliged, washing himself and openly masturbating before her. Glancing up, he noticed that she had begun to strip the few clothes she was wearing. With a little hop, she sat up on the sink and parted her legs. Christ, she was completely naked, shaved smooth and pale, just the swollen folds of her lips exposed. His cock surged almost instantaneously towards the hardcore vision. Zoe threw back her head and giggled as he stared.

"You shaved?" he asked.

"No, waxed. Had it done at the spa. It was the most painful thing I have ever known. I thought they were going to rip my fanny out. Boy, are you gonna make up to me for this..."

Nick snapped off the shower jets and stepped out, dripping and naked, cock rampant. "So what we gonna play? Uncle Nick gets off with a little girl..."

"Nick! That's a terrible thing to say! You pervert!! She screamed but did not seem at all bothered at his comment.

"Well, you started it, sexy. Smooth as a baby's bottom...literally...brings out the paedophile in me..."

"Not funny..."

"Why you laughing then? Come here, little girl, come to Uncle Nicholas....!"

He grabbed for her and she ran, he in hot pursuit. In the bedroom, he caught up with her and flung her back on the bed where she lay panting and watching him through hooded eyes.

"It's a bit creepy when you say things like that though, Nick..." she observed.

"I don't mean it...I'm not into kids...you know I'm not. It's a game though. Fantasy...spices it up...no harm between consenting adults...anything you want, nothing you don't want...."

He dried himself roughly and fell in next to her. Zoe scrambled to her knees and then inched down his legs. Lowering her mouth she kissed his tip and then ran her tongue up and down his length before stopping and raising her head. "You taste of shower gel. I should have done you sweaty. I prefer it when you smell like a man..." he hissed as she returned to her intimate ministrations, biting along his length gently and then sucking him deep. A blinding urge to come came over him; he had to stop her and squeeze hard on his balls.

"Fuck...you got me spinning. Like a kid...fuck...!" he gasped. She laughed and climbed above him, sitting on his hips, her legs splayed crudely. He touched her spread lips, ran his thumb into the deep cleft of her cunt and then licked it.

"On my face..." he commanded, dropping his head back to the pillows. "I'm gonna stick my tongue so far up your sweet little pussy..." Her groan as he did just that was earthy and raw. She was so young, so hot, so fast to arouse. He could feel her clit hot and twitching as her thick juices flowed into his eager mouth. In seconds he felt her contract and come, gasping for breath as she bucked against his insistent tongue.

Collapsing on him, she lay moaning softly; he eased her down. "Sit on me. Come on, Zoe, I want to get inside you...sit up! Straddle me...!"

She did it, kneeling at either side of his thighs. He observed their bodies pressed close as she prepared herself to lower down on him. He was so dark and tanned, honed and lean muscle, hair growing thicker and thicker as it traveled down his stomach and the almost absurd spectacle of his thick turgid penis, purple and swaying hypnotically, appearing almost an alien life form against both their skins. Her body was pale gold, whiter where the waxing had left her naked, smooth and soft. The flat curve of her naked mons was so different from his hairy groin with the bulge of his balls spilling out beneath his erect cock; where she was neat and sleek, he was rough and fleshy. The contrast made him feel a wild and primal surge of lust to take this beautiful woman and love her until it hurt them both.

She gripped his thighs with her long strong legs while he eased himself into her. He heard her gasp and felt the tightening of her inner muscles; she ground herself against him in a circular motion until he was fully shafted and then began to rise and fall, throwing her long hair over her shoulders and taking her full breasts in her own hands to play with them for him, licking her lips and pouting, putting on a show as she flaunted her femininity.

Watching. Men love to watch. His eyes were riveted to the visual of her as she took him deep and then rose up allowing him to slip out, his cock flopping wetly against her belly, glistening with her moisture, before repeating the action again and again. Each time she withdrew, he saw the slash of her vagina, stretched wide by his girth, pulsing like some heartbeat. His blood felt fiery in his veins and spots began to dance before his eyes. This girl just made him feel things he had never thought were possible. He literally wondered whether she was driving him insane.

He could see it was beginning to get to her as well, especially as he flexed his cock in rhythm to her thrusts and rotated his hips, aware that he was hitting her spot. She fell forward, her eyes rolling in her head, a constant stream of vague profanity spilling from her lips. "Fuck...in my cunt...so fucking big...Christ, Nick you are so...fucking...big...oh God....oh God...I wish I could suck your dick...while you fuck me...I want you to come in my mouth....oh Jesus....imagine that...you fucking me and me sucking some guy's dick...you want to watch me suck a guy off...? Watch him come all over my face while you just ram into me..."

Her stream of erotic consciousness fed his already engorged and sexually charged state. He gripped her hips tight and thrust even harder, almost bruising in his desire to get as far inside her as he could. She screamed and reached for his shoulders, bracing herself against each thundering up-thrust. He felt her orgasm rising internally and the waves of shocking pulses that shuddered outwards from her vagina through her body as she slumped forward moaning. He held her tight but tenderly, moving slowly now against her trembling. There was nothing in this world like experiencing a woman in the throes of a powerful vaginal orgasm; he thought it even beat his own. To know you can make a woman feel like this, have her completely helpless in your arms, begging you for more, able to take her anyway you want and know she will love it all the more now you have given her this.

He eased out and turned her gently; she fell against the pillow, breathing heavily. "Raise your hips, princess...come on...on your knees..." She whimpered but did as she was told and he widened her legs, displaying her nakedness. He ran his fingers round the tight little hole, felt her shudder, licked his thumb and then pushed inside. She rocked back against him, groaning crudely. His cock in his hand he pushed into her cunt, felt her begin to fall, hauled her back up again and slowly shafted her up and down, round and round. "Play with your clit, baby...let it all happen...go on, do it..."

Zoe raised her head, suddenly aware. "Imagine... you fucking me from behind and I am sucking a guy kneeling in front of me....Imagine...wouldn't you like to see that, huh....?"

She hit a nerve with that image and he began to ram faster and faster. This time he would come. Zoe reached another crescendo, writhing and gasping on the total stimulation - her vagina, her anus, her clitoris...in her already heightened state of arousal it was too much. They both came in a blinding orgasm. The smell of sex and sweat mingled with perfume and soap filled their senses as the rest of their awareness seemed to fade.

Lying side by side some time later, still muzzy and quiet, Zoe began to speak softly. "God, that was something else, Nick! It was amazing...I thought I would die of pleasure...it's a real turn on, isn't it? Thinking about being watched. Fantasy...Nick...why don't we...you could get some guy in...It would be safe if you were there...you'd love it...Men love to watch...Anything you want, Nick...nothing you don't..."

It was a few moments before his dull post-orgasmic brain began to take in what she was suggesting. "What?"

He sprang up and jumped out of bed, momentarily stunned. "You asking me to bring another man into our bedroom? You crazy?" He took a few steps towards the bathroom, his hand raised and his finger pointing in her direction. "Don't let me ever hear you talk like that again. EVER. You got me? Jesus Christ! You any idea what you're talking about....?"

"Nick! I was only suggesting...it's just fantasy... I never did stuff like that before...I know you have....I just want to experience things...I thought you said...about fantasy...I would do anything for you..."

"Fantasy...is fantasy...." he snapped. "I joked about little girls...doesn't mean I would want to do one!"

"...but you've done that sort of thing, I mean with a group...."

"Zoe...this is you and me! Not some sex orgy. You're the woman I love. How in God's name would you ever imagine I wanted to watch you perform for a group of men, like some drug-crazed whore? You any idea what men do to women like that? They treat them like a fucking piece of meat. You do that shit when you don't have anything else in your life. You don't do it with the girl you love!"

He knelt down in front of her and took her face in his hands. "I might get off on the thought of it. So might you. But no sane man would ever stand for that happening. I've known men whore their wives around and I never could understand it. Sure, I used those women. It wasn't my problem if they were sick fucks. But you don't ever play with that shit unless you understand the consequences. And they are nothing but bad shit and degradation. It's not about consenting adults. It's about taking advantage of people who are vulnerable. Zoe...never in this world would I put you within ten miles of such a scene...and do not ask me ever again...you hear me?"

He stood up and stormed into their adjoining bathroom; she heard him urinate noisily. Wrapping herself up in the sheets, she lay curled up, thinking about his words. She hadn't meant some really bad scene. Just a little experimentation. Why was he so rigid about playing games like that? Couldn't she ever have an opinion of her own? Even about sex?

"Ms. Dwyer?" It took Annie a few moments to respond to her birth name. It was so many years since she had used it. Twisting her fingers nervously round the empty space on her left hand where her wedding ring should have been, she rose from her seat and followed the nurse into the examination room. Half an hour later, she was sitting dressed again, still burning with the humiliation of the experience. The young female doctor read the file notes and gave her diagnosis with little sign of either interest or compassion.

"Just a non-specific STD. The tablets and cream we prescribe should clear it up. No sex until you've had a further screening in a fortnight's time. Can you give me a list of all the sexual partners you have had penetrative sex with in the past six weeks...?" She pushed a form across the table.

"Just the one." Annie retorted, blushing.

"You sure...?" The doctor sounded like she didn't believe her.

"Yes, I am sure. Do you think I am lying?"

"I have no idea. Most people do. But we need to let him know. He might be a carrier and asymptomatic, so doesn't realize it and will be happily spreading this. It's important to notify him as soon as we can to try and get him to have treatment...."

"I don't know where he is. The US, I think."

The doctor raised her eyes. "Just give me his email. If you know that much about him, that is..." she added tartly.

Annie wrote it down and pushed the paper across sharply.

"And this is all? You couldn't have forgotten anyone? Just the one?"

"Yes!"

"Thank you...Please make another appointment at reception on the way out for your follow up. And Ms. Dwyer...Take these, courtesy of the National Health...and use them next time you get the urge, hey?" The woman threw a box of condoms on the desk top. The final insult. Not only had she  had to queue up for treatment at a VD clinic with kids as young as her own children, but now she was being treated like an irresponsible fool by this little bitch. All for what? For sleeping with her own husband?

Annie snatched up the box and walked out, stopping at the door. "If you mail... that man...do you have to mention my name to him?"

The doctor shook her head. "Of course not. That's confidential."

Annie nodded curtly and walked out. How could he have put her through this? Not even using protection with his women? Thank God it was just a nasty infection. This could have been so much worse. But it was bad enough as it was.

 Her phone buzzed and she pulled it from her pocket. He was calling her again. She switched it off. If she spoke to him now she would probably never speak to him again.

Let him wonder what was going on. She hoped he choked when he opened his emails tomorrow.