"Well?"

Zoe stepped out of the changing room, a sycophantic saleswoman in tow. They were in a private viewing room and a complete season's couture was displayed for her to try on. She had stripped off the men's clothes, thoroughly enjoying shocking the woman, and then tried on dress after dress before showing Nick who waited outside sitting on a leather armchair a glass of champagne at a side table, his chin resting on his hand as he reveled in the moment.

He said little to any of the staff, not at all interested in charming them - he was about to pay enough to earn the right to treat them however he liked. Zoe looked fantastic in everything she put on but he was looking for a particular something and he knew he would know it when he saw it. Until then he simply shook his head and told them to bring something better.

Zoe was intoxicated by the attention and the sheer sensual pleasure of the vibrant colours, beautiful fabrics and fabulous cut of these outrageously expensive gowns. It made her head spin. Finally she stepped out in a white cocktail dress.

It was this one that made him smile. "Turn round."

She spun for him.

"Throw your hair back. Off your neck..." 

She caught up her thick tresses and piled them roughly in her hands.

The gown left her golden shoulders naked, a shimmering contrast to the white silk bodice that framed her glorious body, the square shoulders nipped into the impossibly narrow waist and the perfect half globes of her breasts spilling provocatively above the wired top. The skirt was short, above her knee, but full, fashioned of several flounces of the finest gossamer-like fabric, almost but not quite hiding her long thin legs. She was wearing a pair of shoes which were made of strands of tiny jewels; they made her look improbably tall and her ankles barely wide enough to carry her.

"That one. Those shoes. Better get some knickers while you're at it, love...I don't want any blokes getting a free show of your sweet pussy..." he teased. Zoe giggled, the wine at lunch time and a few glasses of champagne having loosened her inhibitions completely. The assistant gave Nick a sly glance; he caught it and blew her a kiss. Zoe saw the woman blush and suppress a smile. Every woman wanted him. But she had him. She gave the girl a withering look.

"I'll need a wrap..."

"No! I want to see your shoulders. You feel cold, you wrap yourself round me, princess..."

He spent a small fortune. She stopped even asking about the prices. He didn't care and just laughed when she mentioned it. "Have to ask, can't afford it...simple as..." he had grinned.

While he settled the bill, Zoe changed back into the suit; the girl joined her as if to help her dress.

"I don't need help."

"Who is he?" The assistant asked, helping her on with the jacket.

"He's just my guy," Zoe answered.

"Is he someone famous? I mean, he's something else...what does he do?"

But Zoe just grinned and danced away, throwing the woman a truculent glance. She ran up to where he was signing the receipt and threw her arms round him. "It's beautiful! I've never worn anything like it in my life...!"

He shrugged her away as he finished signing. He had never felt comfortable writing with his left hand despite all the years of training himself to be as competent with it as he had once been with his right. The right could do almost anything but bizarrely holding a pen and executing a decent hand had always defeated it. Writing was one of those few actions he was embarrassed about.

"Just the start...I want you to have a room full of stuff like that...you were made for haute couture..."

With his hands full of her bags, he held open the door for her and they stepped out onto the late afternoon sidewalk and joined the crowds along the Avenue.

"What now?" Zoe asked.

"Home. You can thank me in the usual fashion..." he teased, "...and then shower, get dressed to kill and we hit the town. I'm celebrating..."

"Celebrating? What?" she asked, curious as he hailed a cab and they got in.

"You. Me. Us. Love. Freedom. Life....you pick it...we'll celebrate it..." he replied. He seemed so relaxed. So happy. He made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world. It was as if she fell more in love with him every moment they were together. Nick made everything possible, things other people only ever dream of. She curled up in his arms as they made their way home.

"Just being with you is enough. I never want to be anywhere else but with you," she whispered. He leant down and kissed the top of her head, smiling at her words. Resting his head back, he took a deep breath of contentment and let the future slowly unfold in his thoughts.

"Ms. Stavin..." He stood up as she approached the table and smiled warmly. She really was a lovely young woman. Deborah was a type that had always appealed to him: tall, willowy and small breasted, flawless skin, delicate features, pale blue eyes and shining golden hair, worn short and tucked behind her ears in the day, now swept up into an elegant chignon. She was wearing a simple black dress with a row of pearls at her ivory throat. It was a chic that you were either born to wear or you couldn't carry off. Deborah Maynard Stavin looked as if she had invented it.

"Mr. Thorne. I hope I'm not late?" It was dead on eight. He had made it his business to be early. Olds habits die hard. He had never let any woman wait on him. Nor had he wanted to let her regain the ascendancy that he had wrestled from her earlier in the day by giving her time to check out the ground.

"Not at all. May I get you a drink?"

"Thank you. Dry Martini. You found the place easily?" Deborah took the opportunity to look him over while he turned to order from the waiter in attendance. He was a very impressive man, strong featured but with a rawness about him that suggested that beneath his sophisticated urbanity was a much cruder and earthier one. He had the hands of a working man even if they were neatly manicured. He had the body of a pugilist, even if it was clothed in Italian wool. She wondered what he would be like in bed and knew instinctively that he would be dominant but tender. He had a streak of something soft in his eyes even if he hid it well beneath his macho body language and smart repartee. A man like that could make any woman weak.

He ordered a Scotch and they discussed the menu. He wasn't one of those men who ordered for a woman, despite his definite alpha tendencies. They chose their selection, both wasting little time. This was not a romantic assignation where lovers tease each other with the eroticism of food and touch each other beneath the pristine virgin linen of the table cover.

"Much as I'm enjoying the polite social chit chat, Ms. Stavin, shall we get to the point? You had something to say to me, I believe. Some sort of proposition? Or is this an unofficial approach from your boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend?" Deborah mocked as if the very word was ludicrous in connection with her.

"El presidente. Let's not dance about. He want me to do something for him off the record and he's sent you to soften me up, as it were...?"

"I don't much like your insinuation. Are you threatened by intelligent women, Mr Thorne? It really is a little bit old to use sexual insults to imply the only successful woman is one who opens her legs for the men at the top..."

"Rarely wrong though. Unless they're plain. And before you get all worked up about that comment, love, it's a fact of life. A woman has to work harder. We all know that. The odds are always stacked in your favour if you have a penis. Except for one little area...even the boss man thinks with that same penis from time to time. When he sees a beautiful woman, that is...I hardly think that truth of life has escaped your penetrating gaze, Ms. Stavin."

The waiter set down their first course and opened the wine. Deborah regarded him wryly across the table until they were alone again. "You still think I'm here to seduce you? Now what possible gain would there be to national security in that?"

That made him grin. "None at all. But it would sure loosen you up, sweetheart. I guarantee it."

She burst out laughing at his answer; he smirked across the table. "You really are too much! Or have you been reading too many spy novels?"

He refilled her glass. "I just want to cut the crap. Tell me what I'm here for. I'm too old to play these games, love. Just spit it out and then we can enjoy this delicious meal. I'm approachable. It's what I do. Listen to people and if I think I can be of any use, I will. If not, I'll tell you. Straight off."

She chewed her lip and gave his refreshing openness some consideration. She wasn't sure. He was probably still using some mind game on her. Well, she had the ace card in her hand tonight whether he knew it yet or not.

She wished she didn't have to play it.

"We have a problem."

"We?"

"The people who have sent me here tonight..."

"I take it this is nothing to do with your little pals down at the playcentre? The AGORA boys...?"

"I have other responsibilities..."

"That so?" She had an odd feeling that he knew more about her than she thought he did. Had he intel she didn't know of or was he just experienced enough to see through her? There weren't many who gave her this level of concern.

"Who they are is irrelevant. I want to ask you something. I believe you know a man called Barry McKenzie?" Terry repressed a smile. Only Costello would dare to wind up the secret services of the west by choosing as his codename an absurd drunken Australian cartoon character.  It had always amused Terry whenever he had heard it whispered in high places. If they only knew Nick was merely sticking a middle finger up at them all. Crocodile Dundee to the rescue. It was wicked touches like that in Nick's character that made it hard at the end of the day not to love him.

"No secret there. Family friend."

"Please, don't treat me for a fool. He is not quite that to you. Did you know that Barry McKenzie is the man who recently defused the security leak in London...?"

"...Killed the girl. Stop talking in fucking euphemisms," he snapped. She was surprised. Something had bothered him there.

"Same difference. You know the jargon. Were you aware he was the agent involved?"

"No."

"But you know it had all his hallmarks..."

"Oh yeah. His MO's easy to recognize. They always end up dead. What a giveaway..." Deborah looked unimpressed by his sarcasm. "Look...what's it to do me with me? He's a killer. I know what he does. The details are none of my business..."

"...He's resigned."

Terry stopped. "Resigned? And how exactly do you do that?"

Deborah smiled.  "Exactly. You don't."

He pursed his mouth and played with his top lip. She thought how fleshy his mouth was and curiously feminine with that shapely bow, an unexpected sensuality in the rugged strength of his face. "How do I come into this, Ms. Stavin? You're clearly CIA. The think tank job is the front. You may or may not be boning the boss. Either way he's got a hard on for your little butt and excellent brain. Your imminent rise to the White House staff is the cover. So Langley get their little mole right inside the Oval Office. Am I getting warm?"

"You have a very fertile imagination, Mr. Thorne. I really think you should pen the next Bond script," her voice gave nothing away but he knew he was right.

"What I don't understand is why come to me about McKenzie? Sounds like you're scared what he's going to do next. Can't say I blame you. Has someone bought him? His main allegiance is money and his overactive pleasure glands. He was always a very dangerous commodity. You think he's had a better offer and you've made a Golem that could descend down on you all? One flaw in the logic, love. I doubt McKenzie would take the trouble to inform you of his decision to join the enemy by resigning if that was the case. If he's been turned then he'd stay exactly where he was. What a coup to get the West's leading assassin - why waste his potential as a double agent? Whatever McKenzie's up to, it's not what you think. He might act like a dick but he's far from that. The man's got an IQ off the scale. I think he can work it out for himself."

"I happen to agree. McKenzie has always been a renegade - that's not news to anyone. He has occasionally done a little private work. We allowed him that. So what if he has a sideline in organized crime contracts? It isn't as if society wasn't ultimately better served with them out of the way. But we have to be sure that he is not likely to go too far from home. That's where you come in. You know him well. You could find out what was driving him. It would be to his advantage. Someone prepared to root for him? I doubt there's anyone else out there who'd give a damn. His relationship with you is the only thing that stands between him and an unfortunate accident at the moment."

"Jesus Christ! He's cleaned up every pile of shit you've all given him in the past twelve years. Maybe the guy's just had enough, ya know? That what passes as a golden handshake in your business?" Terry groaned at the cold and calculating revelation.

"He's been paid a fortune. For his pains. I think he's had his rewards. He's too dangerous to allow him to be unaligned. We have to know, Terry. If he's a friend of yours then you could be saving his life if you can clear this up for us."

"Clear this up? You mean persuade him to play ball or will it be enough to reveal that finally he's found Jesus and is planning to become a Baptist minister down south? Don't talk crap. You want me to get close enough to monitor him and investigate his contacts. And then take him out if he's suspect. Because who the fuck else could get with ten miles of McKenzie if he didn't let them in? That the deal?"

Deborah realized that it had been futile to try any kind of psychology on this man. He had worked it out within seconds, based on very little evidence. She should have realized a man like this was not going to be manipulated. Then she would have to play her hand. It didn't give her much pleasure. Not that she was very concerned about wounding any of the involved parties, however. The discomfort came from much closer home that that. If she showed him what she had, her chances of having an affair with this man would probably fly right out of the window permanently.

"I think you might find you have a greater stake in this than you imagine..."

"...I'm not interested, love. You'll have to find another way in. Just don't expect me to keep this to myself. I think McKenzie deserves a fighting chance. Although I should imagine he's already aware that you clowns will be wetting your little panties over his loss..."

"...Hear me out...Did you know Mr. McKenzie is seeing someone?"

Terry laughed. "Half of the female population of the western world probably. Watch out, Ms Stavin...if he gets his baby browns on you, you might just get that trip you're so in need of..."

"...A very beautiful young woman. Aged twenty two. Highly intelligent. Graduate student at Harvard. British by birth but holds dual citizenship...Australian..."

As Deborah Stavin reeled off the list off facts, Terry's face set and his hands clenched the arms of the chair. He blinked rapidly but gave no sign of emotion other than intense concentration as every word she said revealed the only possible identity of this mystery woman.

"...Her name's Zoe. Your daughter, I believe. Perhaps you would care to look at these...?"

Out of her tiny jeweled evening purse she pulled a sleek Palm Pilot. Punching in a code, she paused until something downloaded and then set it down on the table before him as if she was dealing a hand of poker. The display gave him a slide show; she described the digitally enhanced contents which showed a man and a woman - his face smudged in all of them but not difficult to recognise.  "Harvard campus- hand in hand...Fiji, naked frolicking in the sea....Sydney airport - fond farewell...the vestibule of his apartment block in New York....and...earlier today in the ladies' restroom of one of our buildings...very careless of him....there is also video but I think you might find it a little hardcore for your tastes....and the dialogue is very crude... if you press here.."His hand reached out and he stopped her before she revealed the video footage.

"You bitch..." he stood up and swallowed hard. "I think the least you can do is settle the check, Ms. Stavin...I just lost my appetite..." He turned to walk out, waves of impotent rage seeping from him as he struggled to understand what he had seen on these pictures. He had thought in his time that he had seen the worst the world had to offer. In many ways he had. Maybe this didn't equal the brutal death of a lover at his own hands or the bloody raped body of his own woman in his arms. But it came close. His beloved child naked up against a door being fucked in a public place by a man like Nick Costello?

"Take him out, Terry. He's gone too far. It would be doing everyone a favour. Now you've got a stake in it too..."

He kicked the chair back, attracting shocking stares from other diners. This was not the sort of restaurant where such behaviour was expected. Deborah stared after him as he strode out, knocking waiters out of his way as he made his way through to the exit. He hit the front door with such force that it swung back behind him. She deleted the shots snapped shut the device, called the waiter for the check and wondered why she felt so sorry for Terrence Thorne. You do what you have to do. Why should a little persuasive blackmail at this level of operation bother her in the least?

They dined in splendour in a fabulous restaurant with a panoramic view of the night skyline from its vast glass windows. Reservations were almost impossible to get here unless you booked months in advance. Zoe had asked how he had arranged the table, one of the best in the house. Nick had smiled mysteriously and wiggled his eyebrows. "Salvatore owes me one..." and then he had shrugged it off with a boyish grin.

Zoe imagined what they must look like to anyone observing them. Like lovers. Beautiful woman. Handsome man. Nick looked amazing tonight, dressed in a tuxedo, his thick black hair tamed and glossed, his cheek shaved close and his dark eyes glistening with promise. And she knew she looked the perfect woman for him to have on his arm, dressed exquisitely and draped in jewels, her thick hair piled high off her bare neck.

As they had been putting the finishing touches to their clothes in the now familiar bedroom, Nick had plunged his hand into the pocket of his jacket. "Forgot to tell you. They had a sale at Chopard when I was in London...got you this..." he held out a piece of jewellery, a gaudy riot of colour.

Spinning her round to face the mirror, he fastened it round her neck. It was a choker of almost excessive opulence. A latticework of diamond and platinum created the strands of the choker, over two inches deep, and from each link hung a jewel. A different tear shaped stone hung on its own diamond studded drop. Every gem, precious or semi precious, seemed to be represented, like a rainbow of iridescent colour, a kaleidoscope of jewels. No wonder he had been searching for just the right dress to set this off.

"It's....stunning....I have never seen anything quite like it!" She gasped as he stepped back to observe her. 

"Fifty stones. I saw it and knew that there was no other neck that could grace such a thing. Zoe, you are the most beautiful woman in the world. I want to give it all to you. Light you up like the shining star you should be..."

His declaration was so unlike the way Nick usually spoke, suggesting a man inside of much finer feelings and more soul was trying to emerge. He reached down and caressed her cheek, running his thumb softly over her lips and then bending to kiss her tenderly. She held him close and gave herself to his kiss. They broke but kept their lips still close, sharing the same breath, pecking at each other, tasting and savouring. "Nick...it's too much...too much... I don't know what to say...?"

"Say nothing. Just love me. I don't need anything else in this world but that..." he whispered as he rested his nose on hers and they nuzzled close.

But that had been earlier. Now they were here dining on fine cuisine and drinking vintage champagne, staring into each other's eyes, touching hands, legs intertwined sensuously beneath the table, whispering the crazy things that people who are besotted with each other are wont to do.

He raised his glass to her and she touched his with her own. "To us!" he murmured and they toasted the future. His eyes cast round the room and he caught the nod of a man who was behind the bar polishing glasses. The man shook his head slightly. Nick smiled. Maybe he was just being paranoid but he was taking no chances. It always paid to have someone watch your back - especially when you were no longer in a state of mind to watch your own.

After dinner they moved on to an exclusive nightclub where the bulk of the clientele were the rich and famous. Zoe had to stop herself from staring around her at the well known faces; Nick closed her mouth once or twice with a grin. "They're just people. Mostly dysfunctional and unpleasant. And tonight the buzz is "Who's that girl?' And they mean you. Look about you and really see what's going on."

Zoe glanced around and saw the overt appraisal she was receiving from many of the men, some of whom could have any woman they chose, stellar celebrities with classy women hanging off their arms already. But she was new, fresh meat, alluringly innocent and stunningly beautiful. The women there were also eyeing her up suspiciously and she sensed talons being sharpened. There was a bizarre sense of an arena where each person was striving to claw their way to the top and once there stomp on anyone trying to reach the pinnacle. It was almost like a vampiric atmosphere, hideously lovely people with false smiles and dead eyes, their blasé expressions and world weary ennui not quite masking their feeding frenzy on each other. It scared her even as its sordid splendour drew her hypnotically in.

"I need the bathroom," she whispered into his ear before leaving the stool where she was perched and making her way through to the mixed sex restrooms. Inside was a vision of glass and steel, the cubicles completely transparent with their stainless steel toilets and urinals. Once the door closed, the glass frosted up but the user could still see out as if through a two-way mirror. She chuckled as she sat and peed, watching all the beautiful people come and go. No one wanted to miss anything in here. What a place to have sex, Zoe thought, up against this wall watching other men and women who could not see you. Pity Nick hadn't come in with her - he could have used the pissoir. Now that's togetherness, she giggled to herself.

Outside, she washed her hand at the futuristically designed stainless steel trough sink next to a number of women who were replenishing their make up or chatting.

"You're Costello's meat for the night, are you?" One tightlipped blonde with an impossibly large chest on her impossibly tiny hips. One would wonder why she didn't overbalance.

"Pardon?" Zoe asked.

"Costello. Rare to see him spend longer with a woman than it takes to empty his balls. Known him long?" The girl shot back with a sardonic smirk.

"A while," Zoe answered and excused herself. She caught the glances exchanged in the mirror between this gathering of women.

"Give us a shout if he wants a group...he usually rounds the night off with a posse. Nick loves to share his blessings..."

She threw back her shoulders and carried on walking out. So they knew him? So what? He had slept with plenty of women and done plenty of stuff. It didn't bother her. He was waiting just outside, leaning on the wall. She was surprised. Was he on point?

"Let's dance..." he began and pulled her onto the dance floor. They were playing a rock song that they both recognised. Nick grinned and struck a smouldering pose in his elegant tuxedo, the bow tie now hanging loose and the buttons of his shirt open to reveal his impressive chest. He minced along with the lyrics, all Jagger -swagger, while Zoe gyrated sensuously in front of him running her hands through her hair. He pulled her by her hips against his groin and they danced lewdly, simulating sex while he pouted and rasped the sexually explicit lyrics at her.

She knew people were watching them; it made her worse, undulating her hips sensuously, and rotating to give him the pleasure of gripping her pert buttocks and rubbing himself up against her cheeks and kneading her breasts. Neither cared who saw them. They weren't interested in another single soul. They were even getting off on giving other watchers a show. As the music finished, Nick bent down and sucked on the skin on her neck, raising a mark. Then he nipped at it until she parted her lips and cried out. The temperature was rising for both of them, threatening to burst out. He kissed the bruise he had left and licked her earlobe. She rested back and closed her eyes inside his arms as they whirled together.

The music changed. So did their mood. Nick gracefully twirled her around and caught her in his arms and they began to dance to the sentimental ballad now playing. This time Nick stopped posturing and simply crooned softly into her ear as they swayed from side to side.

I'm not a perfect person
I never meant to do those things to you
And so I have to say before I go
That I just want you to know

I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
and the reason is you

I've found a reason to show
A side of me you didn't know
A reason for all that I do
And the reason is you

Their eyes met and he smiled down at her. "You are my reason. For now and always..." he murmured. Zoe nestled close and kissed him.

He walked for a long time, hardly even conscious of where he was going. His mind was spinning as the numbers tumbled into place and he realized how many signs he had overlooked in the past few weeks. There was no doubt that the story he had been told by Stavin was true. The pictures, whilst obscuring Nick's features and thus potentially mock-ups, were actually authentic, of that he had little doubt. He had a lifetime of experience at 'reading' a photograph and it had only taken him a spilt second to glean what he needed to know. He hadn't been interested in the obvious signs or the shock value of the shots. A part of him had immediately closed down when his brain had computed what he was being shown.

Zoe was an adult and she had a sex life. He was not surprised by that. She was a beautiful woman and her naked body was nothing he was ashamed to see - she was free and easy about such things anyway and often sunbathed topless at home or dashed about with a little or nothing on. He was her father. She still behaved as she did as a child in many ways before him. Even the idea of seeing her in a raunchy sexual shot was something he could blank out. In his time he had been privy to having to examine many private moments caught on film and had no illusions about human behaviour.  But his head could not get round Costello's presence in these scenes. It was as if Satan himself had his daughter in his clutches.

In a flash his mind had searched for proof that it wasn't Costello, just some other handsome guy she had taken up with and the CIA had digitally manipulated the shots. So the guy was dark, built like Costello, swarthy, had one hand....it could be fixed. There were a couple of distinguishing scars and birthmarks he could pick out - he had once studied details of such facts about him in case he should ever have to identify his body and knew well what to look for - but it's simple enough to add a mole or scar tissue to an image.

The real proof lay in the most innocuous of the shots. The thing that might have been easy to miss if you let your emotional reaction to the other more shocking images colour your judgement. The first apparently innocent photograph had shown them walking hand in hand on a sunny day across campus. Zoe dressed in typical student garb, tight low-slung jeans, her flat belly naked beneath a little cropped T-shirt, her hair loose but the sides braided back, hippy style. Nick had looked younger than his usual style, despite his unshaven face and unkempt state. His hair was messy and flopped over his face, his narrow hips were encased in faded denim, a pair of old worn tennis shoes on his feet. He was wearing a sleeveless tattered T-shirt with some rock band's name emblazoned across it. His arms were tanned and bare; he was still wearing the glove. But on his good wrist was wound a beaded bracelet that Terry recognised. Years ago in Valparaiso an old Indian mystic whom he had got to know had made it for Nick of twisted leather and beads, claiming it was some sort of charm. He'd told him Nick had bad karma hovering over him and this was to hold it at bay. It had amused Nick but Terry had not missed the change in the younger man's face at the words and had observed Nick wore it from then on during the rest of the time of his stay.

Costello was more superstitious than he admitted if he was still wearing it twelve years later.

It was Nick. No intelligence would have known about that trinket. It was Nick. Zoe was sleeping with Nick Costello. There was no way he could deceive himself on that score.

Slumping to sit on a wooden bench, he sank his head in his hands unable to stop the dawning of truth. He wished he could. It wasn't just the despair over what Costello was capable of, that he could draw Zoe down into his dark world of perversion and self abuse. But she was a romantic girl who would not be involved with a man without giving him her heart. Imagine what he could do to a woman's heart? He would shred it and walk right over. Zoe would be just a little fly caught in his web and destroyed by his selfish desire.

And then there was the real threat that lay behind Stavin's revelation. They were prepared to remove Costello if he dropped out rather than take the chance he was going rogue. If he didn't take this up then they would not risk anyone else. Costello would be removed the easy way, the only way you could really get him. Bomb in his car? Unfortunate accident in his apartment block? Long range sniper hit? Stavin was not just shocking him with dirty pictures of his daughter to make him cooperate. She was also showing him the alternative. Zoe was now in the cross fire. She could be at risk if they took him out - just as the young man had been removed in the assassination in London. Or she could be used to blackmail Nick. And Nick was a cold enough bastard to let them have her. Collateral damage. That is all she would be. Just a person who, by virtue of her connection, was an acceptable risk. His daughter. A name on a file. Another unfortunate statistic considered expendable. Hey, you mix with dangerous men then you take that chance.

His daughter.

And he was the only thing standing between her and the edge.

"Nickie? What a pleasant surprise...long time no fuckie..." The woman from the bathroom leaned against the bar as they stopped to take a drink. Nick turned lazily and looked her up and down, his hand still fondling Zoe's breast.

"Bessie...what a pleasure...yeah, been a while since you've arranged a little party...Zoe...Bessie...she's a mate from back home..."

"We've met. In the loos," Bessie gave Zoe a disparaging look. "She's a bit young. You raiding the high schools now, Nicky? How about we adjourn to my hotel room? We could continue her education there...ever had your pussy licked by a girl, Zoe? Nick so loves to watch...and we can call a few young studs to give us plenty of choice...what you say, Nick? Old time's sake?"

The glacial response in Nick's eyes was not obvious in the darkened night club. "Go and find someone else to play with, Bess. There's a good girl..."

Bessie grinned and shrugged, giving him a look as if she expected him to change his mind later and moved away, throwing Zoe an amused pout as she did. Nick immediately reached over. "Give me a minute. Need a piss..."

He pushed past the crowd of revellers and followed Bessie, grabbing her arm and dragging her to the relative quiet of the corridor and into an office. Slamming her against the wall, he circled her neck with his right hand and constricted her breathing. "I got your attention now, cunt? Don't you ever speak like that to me in public again! You hear me?" Bessie nodded and tried to struggle from his grip. He just tightened his hold.

Running his other hand down her body malevolently, he suddenly let her go and turned to walk away.

"Be careful, Nicky, me old mate," she panted, rubbing at her neck. "I still got the film..."

He spun round and this time she caught the expression in his eyes. It frightened her to see the glinting ice cold steel there. "Are you trying to threaten me, you fucking little whore?" He placed both hands at either side of her head against the wall and then took her chin roughly in his fingers. "Do you know what I could do to that pretty face of yours? Do you know just how much pleasure that would give me? I am not the person to play games with. I don't make threats. I carry them out. Remember that, Bessie. You look at my girl again in any way I don't like, then I will make your face so ugly that a cosmetic surgeon would faint at the sight of you. Understand?"

Bessie nodded, shivering. He was like a different man from the spoilt arrogant party animal she had thought him to be. Just some rich guy with an overactive libido and a taste for wild living. The man speaking to her now was like some demonic version of that Nick Costello. Her blood ran cold as she realised just how wrong she had been about him.

"I won't say anything! Just leave me the fuck alone!" she gasped as she wrenched at the door and ran back out onto the corridor. Nick stood a while and let the anger that had possessed him subside. He breathed deeply and blinked rapidly before running his hands through his hair again and making his way back to Zoe. A few leeches were moving in, talking to her, forcing her against the bar. She looked relieved to see him.

Nick smiled coldly at them and pulled her away. "Fuck off..." he muttered to the men before beaming across at Zoe. "Sorry about that, love. Must have been the sea food...went right through me...!" Zoe giggled as he led her back to the floor.

"That woman...Bessie...you really had an orgy with her?' Zoe asked him with a coy grin. He faked a cool audacity.

"Hey...I've lived a full life, princess. But let me tell you something. It doesn't mean anything. Sex is just like crapping. Love is where it's at, baby. Forget her. I have."

Not true. He was still seething inside that the little bitch had dared to flaunt her cheap little ass anywhere near Zoe. But she'd made a big mistake. He'd make her rue the day she had tried to threaten him.

Annie caught a morning flight to Boston. Finally there had been some acknowledgement from her daughter, a rather curt email which said she was sorry, she had been busy but it would be great to spend a day or two together. That appeared to be the green light so Annie presumed that she had given her girl enough warning for any sign of the man who was obviously 'keeping her busy' to be removed before she arrived.

As she settled back for the short flight, Annie smiled to herself, recalling those heady days at the beginning of a romance when your lover just dominated every single waking moment - and even your dreams. Her thoughts went back to all those years ago and how it had been when she and Terry had first started seeing each other. It had been a delirious time despite the long enforced separations. All they had done was stoke up the passion even more. There had been so many times when he had just burst unannounced into her apartment, found her on the couch watching TV with Mel, picked her up, thrown her over his shoulder and simply hauled her off to bed. God, he had been an animal sometimes coming off a tough job, weeks without sex and living under extreme pressure in hostile environments. Annie shivered slightly at the memory of what his lovemaking had been like the first time home. Wild and rough, needy and earthy - his real inner self poured out in her.

And then he would hit that calm place and the next time his tenderness and love would take over. It had almost been worth the pain of separation for the joy of what he showed her on his return.

Staring at the clouds and the blue sky above them as they cruised along, she wondered did men ever keep those memories intact and take them out from time to time as women did. Annie suspected that Terry would just laugh if she reminded him now, make some crude comment and shrug it off. But he hadn't just been a horny bloke desperate to get his rocks off with a woman. It had been passion and the trust that they had found in each other. It was still there somewhere, it had to be. Of course, the trust was still evident. They knew each other so well and had no doubts about the other's loyalty.

But passion? They had their moments when the sex was still amazing and even their regular active sex life was fulfilling and varied all considering.

But passion? Is that possible to hang onto? Or do you have to sacrifice it to the other benefits of a long term relationship that are probably ultimately more lasting?

She knew she longed for passion. For that rush of excitement and reckless challenge that a man you do not know well brings to you at the start of an affair. It wasn't the same as love. Love followed on its heels - sometimes. She wouldn't change her love for her husband for anything in the world. She knew him inside out, all his frailties and his flaws, all his formidable strengths and integrity, all his beliefs and concerns. He was everything to her, the centre of all she was and had in the world, the father of her children, her lover and friend.

But she still longed for the passion they had once known. For her heart to beat faster when he walked in the room, to have his image in her mind night and day, for just his voice on the other end of the line to drive her to complete and utter distraction. But that did not happen any more. Terry was just Terry. Whatever that actually meant.

Did he feel the lack of excitement too? It was different for a man. They needed the thrill of the chase. It was also easier for them to attract someone. Terry picked up admiring glances from women of all ages wherever he went. Did he sometimes take them up on their offers? Had Mel been right when she had said they were bound to from time to time? That it was just nothing to them really ...like tugging on a rope?

What if he met someone who did more than tug his rope? What if he met a woman who reached those other parts of his psyche: his intellect and his heart? A younger, more beautiful model, a woman who would openly adore him, make him feel more virile or desirable than the wife of so many years before whom he could not pretend or hide anymore? It had become something of an obsession on her mind of late. Terry had given her no reason to suspect him and in no way seemed less affectionate towards her.

But the fear still remained. 

She tried to keep herself as attractive as possible, dieting rigorously, working out, endless visits to spas and beauty clinics for the latest treatments to make sure she was still able to look good for him. He often joked about the bills and didn't seem to realise what her real motive was. For that she was grateful. Yet despite it all she wondered if it might all come to nothing if one day some beautiful and talented woman should walk into his life and he should fall hopelessly for her.

Berating herself for her morbid thoughts, Annie turned her mind to her daughter again and felt a sense of pleasure that she was at that part of her life when all things were possible and when men looked at her and longed even for a smile or a moment of her time. Zoe was such a beautiful young woman, more so than she perhaps realised yet. She and Terry had often worried that their daughter might pick up attention from the wrong quarter or have her head turned by flattery. But Zoe had never been like that. She was by nature a serious and thoughtful girl not easily impressed by the more superficial things of life. Relentlessly politically conscious, she had been the kind of teenager always involved in some cause or other, her time full of activities and committees, her friends largely other intelligent and academically minded young women. She had had no time for the silly dating games of many of her contemporaries and had been rather prim until she was well into sixth form.

Even then she had been dismissive of the type of boys who were the school jocks and the girls who hung round with them. Some of her boyfriends had amused Terry in the extreme. She had seemed to prefer the intellectual sort, lean poetic opinionated young men who had followed her round like faithful puppies when they were not debating world affairs or obscure literature with her. He had commented a few times that most of them looked like they hadn't found their dicks yet. Annie had laughingly replied then he ought to be glad. To which she normally got his wry look back.

Whoever this new man was, he seemed to have made a big impression. He was good looking, macho, rich and older. He seemed to have messed her around a bit at first though. Perhaps for once she was with someone who was pushing more than her intellect. Annie grinned to herself. Make the most of it, sweetie. There are not that many alphas about these days.

She landed at Logan airport and hired a car; she knew the city well enough to contemplate driving and preferred the freedom that her own transport gave her. They usually stayed at the Marriott on the riverside but she decided to wait and see what Zoe was up to before she checked in there, frankly bored of hotels and quite easy about camping down with her daughter if that didn't spoil her plans.

Zoe shared an apartment in a large converted old property with a few other girls. It was at the fairly expensive end of the student accommodation market but Terry had insisted she be in a decent place. He didn't want her living in some dodgy area or in a section of the city which openly proclaimed her status as a student. It was always a magnet for undesirables, he said. So she had found herself a property with a few other girls with rich daddies and large allowances. It was a far cry from the dingy digs Annie remembered from her student days.

Pulling up in front of the apartment block, she parked her car and walked up to the front door. Jana answered and pressed for her to come in. Upstairs she was met by Zoe's friend. "Mrs. Thorne? Great to see you again. Zoe's on her way back. She...um... she had an early lecture and a busy morning and said she'd get back as soon as she could. But it could be a few hours yet. Do you mind waiting?"

Annie sighed inwardly but smiled at the girl. It wasn't her fault. "No worries. I'll just find a corner and occupy myself. I've got a good book in my bag. You get on and don't bother about me."

Jana relaxed and led her into the lounge. It was furnished simply but the girls had added a lot of their own touches to make it a warm and charming room. There were a few young people lying about. "This is Zoe's Mum. Mrs. Thorne...I think you know Dawn and Summer....?" They were the two other flatmates. "...and this is Brook and Jon...they're friends..."

Annie smiled and shook hands. "Please...call me Anna...just don't mind me. Am I in the way? I'll go and wait in Zoe's room if you like..."

But they wouldn't hear of it. They were a really sweet bunch of kids, obviously trying to make a good impression but clearly well brought up and aware of good manners.  It appeared they were planning a lunch out at some local bar on the river. It was someone's birthday. The next thing she knew she was invited and, despite several attempts to extricate herself, saying they did not have to accommodate her, they insisted she come along. They said Zoe might join them anyway if she finished in time. So, reluctantly she found herself swept along in the group activity

"Need a ride, Mrs. Thorne?" Brook asked her as they left the house. The four girls had piled into Jon's SUV. There was room for her too but it would have been a bit of a squeeze.

"It's Anna. And I have a hire car."

"Come with me. You don't know the place," he offered courteously. Annie accepted and settled in the passenger seat. She looked across at the boy as he pulled out. Well, he was not strictly a boy, she mused, although they all looked so young to her these days. Annie reckoned he was about twenty five, maybe a little older, but still very fresh faced and pretty. He was tall and lean, fine featured but with a strong jaw line, clear blue eyes and a shock of untidy straight straw blond hair that he kept sweeping back from his eyes. An attractive young man, clean cut and well spoken. He reminded her of someone.

"What are you reading, Brook?"

"Reading? Oh yeah...reading... Zoe says that. Always amuses me. "Zoe had gone to Oxford like her mother. She had 'read' PPE there. It was a whole different system to the US university curriculum. "I'm doing my MBA. At the Business School. I worked for Arthur Andersen for a couple of years then took a sabbatical to get this under my belt. You go nowhere without an MBA these days..." he added.

Annie nodded and looked down sharply. She knew now whom he reminded her of. Ben. God...how many years since she had thought of him?

"I once knew a guy who did his MBA here. I visited Harvard then. Always had a soft spot for it. I was pleased when Zoe was accepted."

"Yeah? What does he do now? The guy you know?"

Annie smiled. "Oh...he's dead now. It was a long time ago..." her voice trailed off and the conversation seemed to have been killed off for a while. She could see her comment had embarrassed the young man. It was up to her to put him at his ease. "You've known Zoe long?" She wondered if they had had a thing. Maybe he was the guy in question recently? No, he couldn't be. Too young. Unless she wasn't seeing the same man she had mentioned the day of the dinner - maybe she had taken up with someone else quite quickly after the other one?

Brook blushed a little. "Not long. Met through mutual friends. She's...a great girl..."

Annie smiled. "I think so. But then I'm a little biased..." He looked over and smiled back.

"She's a lot like you. Guess I know now where her looks come from!" It was Annie's turn to blush.

"Oh...I don't think I can compete with my daughter, but thank you anyway. You are most kind..."

He cleared his throat and gave her another look, this time more pensive; Annie thought he suddenly looked more mature, less the open smiling boy and more an attractive desirable man. "I wasn't being polite, Anna. I meant it."

His remark disturbed her and she sank back against the seat, trying to get a grip. He wasn't coming on to her. It had just been a gracious compliment.

The bar bistro was not far and she was grateful when he turned into the car park and they joined the others who were piling out of their vehicle. It was obvious that Jon was Jana's boyfriend; they were already wrapped around each other. The other girls ran ahead; it appeared there were more of the party waiting upstairs on the deck that gave out onto the charming riverside views. She found herself falling in next to Brook as they walked up the stairs behind the others and wondered if it might appear to people observing them that they were a couple. Hardly convincing, she thought, but was glad she'd worn tight low slung jeans and a suede jacket, her hair braided in a plait for travelling. It made her look younger at a glance - but even the most optimistic estimate would have to put her at late thirties at the youngest, more than ten years older than this young man. Then she mentally kicked herself for even thinking it.

They sat down at the end of a long table. Brook introduced her as Anna and gave no further explanation. The other girls had joined those at the top of the table.

It was a noisy and cheerful lunch, plenty of beer and wine consumed along with the array of simple fare - burgers, ribs, fajitas and salads, followed by a large birthday cake and much hilarity.

Annie was quiet, enjoying observing the rest of them but feeling a little alienated. You cannot simply step right back into that sort of vibe now matter how hard you try and she didn't want to appear to be faking it. Kids hate adults who ape that eternal youth crap more than anything.

"Are we boring you? I guess we get a little crazy when we're all together..." Brook asked her after a while.

"Not at all. I'm enjoying it. It's refreshing. I spend too much time at formal occasions with serious men and rather tedious wives. I'm soaking it all up and envying you the spontaneity of youth..."

"...some of them are very immature. Too much money and not enough sense,' he grinned as if apologising for their zany behaviour.

"Oh there speaks the voice of experience!" Annie teased. "Enjoy yourself while you can. You'll soon enough be working yourself to death for the company..." Annie added.

Brook smiled ruefully. "Already know about that. I'm not like all the others. Don't have a privileged background. My parents teach high school in Pennsylvania. It wasn't easy to get the money together for this course. Sometimes I look at them and it seems like they're just playing at life. For some of us this is the only shot we'll get."

His incisive remark touched her. Her own background was much the same and she knew what sacrifices were needed to pursue studying at this level. And how hard it was to see the affluence of the others constantly reminding you that you were always running to catch up with those who get a head start whatever you did.

"I know what you mean. I myself just came from a normal family. So did my husband. We are 'working class' kids as they'd say back home. Just one generation on. And now our kids are the spoilt ones with the easy ride. That's how it goes. You give your kids what you didn't have. You don't want them to have it so hard..."

"...And then wish they had when they don't seem to get it?"

Annie laughed. "You're way ahead of the game, mate. And dead on. Striking the balance isn't easy. Maybe it's you who has the real head start, Brook. You're hungry. They're not."

That made him smile. He seemed to loosen up. He dropped the rather formal politeness and began to assume his real persona. Annie liked him very much. She wondered if he had slept with her daughter. She rather hoped he had, imagining that he was probably a very tasty morsel between the sheets with that intoxicating mixture of beautiful boy and deep thinking man.

"You know....sometimes I feel completely out of my depth with my own age group. Some of the guys I meet are still in that frat house mentality. Their world revolves around sport, drinking vast quantities of alcohol and getting laid as often as they can...sorry, that was probably a bit tasteless of me..." He held his hands up in apology at his remark.

Annie giggled. "Brook...that describes most men, most of their lives. You are a very unusual specimen if you can see through that! Not sure maturity is the key here...some never get it, no matter how old they are..."

"Well, I can't say all three don't appeal to me at one time or another...." His voice dropped and he gave her a bashful look. "But, I guess I prefer quality in all things to quantity..."

She raised her goblet of wine and he touched it with his glass of beer. "Here's to quality of life, Brook!' Annie murmured playfully.

"Older women...they seem so much more...together...happy in their skin..." Brook suddenly observed and then he coloured up. "Christ...I didn't mean....when I said older....I'm sorry..."

She chuckled. "Actually I am older. So why hide the fact? Of course, I was a child bride and the fact that I have a daughter of twenty two is not a dead giveaway..."

Brook grinned and mentally tried to work it out. How old was she? She might have been very young when she had Zoe. Early forties at the most, he guessed. They say a guy should make it with a mature woman. They are the best in bed. And Anna Thorne was a startlingly beautiful and sophisticated lady. Like it would be a hardship to see her naked? He felt the rush of blood at the thought of it. But however much it appealed to his libido one thing was clear. Touch her and he blew any chance of getting close to Zoe Thorne. And that's what this was all about.

He spent the rest of the lunch flirting with Anna. She seemed to enjoy the attention but kept it at a respectable distance. One thing Brook knew for sure. She liked him. That might stand in his favour in the future. Zoe might be screwing around with some older guy at the moment but he didn't think it would last. He had met this Nick fleetingly and thought him an arrogant jerk. He'd get bored soon enough and leave Zoe abandoned and distraught.

And he was going to be there for her to pick up the pieces. Wouldn't Mum be grateful to him for that?

It didn't take him long to hack into her computer. Going via her email account he had quickly accessed her documents and found what he was looking for. People never ceased to amaze him. Had they no idea how easy it was to retrieve such material if left lying about on hard drives? A matter of moments later he had downloaded it to his system and then sent the video stream to her entire address book.

"...Nick? Come on! I have to catch that plane! Mum will be there hours before me! What are you doing?"

Zoe was at the door of his office, ready to leave.

"One minute, sweetheart, just sending a few mails...go get my denim jacket and I'll be with you in a tic..."

She obediently trotted off and he pressed send. Smiling at the screen, he logged off. One private porn video on its way to ruin a certain lady's reputation. "Let's see you get your kicks out of that, love."

Bessie would rue the day she'd tried to pull a fast one on Nicholas Costello. Wonder what her agent, the Sydney Morning Herald, and her Mum, to name but a few, would think about her latest starring role?

He left Zoe at the airport where they had a fond and misty-eyed farewell. She would be back at the weekend. It was only a few days away. Until then he had a few things to do. Neither wanted the separation but it was unavoidable. Zoe had to prevent her parents from smelling a rat and he had a few urgent matters to clear up. There was bound to be fall out after his shock resignation and he had some arrangements to make to shore up his position. Certain people were no doubt worried about him on the loose. They ought to be. With what he had on most of them, he could bring down the governments of several western powers.

And he would have no qualms about that if they made a single move against him. He grinned as he changed gear and screeched out of the airport car park. Blackmail was a bigger earner than death any day...marks can only die once...