TERRY

It was over breakfast when I told her what we had done. Naturally I set it up, carrying a tray to our balcony, while she changed and fed Maia, and then taking our daughter while Uma had a chance to eat unencumbered for once. Sitting across from her, Maia lying on my lap dozing, her little belly full, I watched Uma sip her tea and nibble at a pastry; she is not eating enough again and I suspect she is already worrying about her figure. She's crazy of course- her body is already barely showing signs of her pregnancy other than the softness of her features, the womanly roundness of her engorged breasts and the slight curve of her stomach. But Uma is her own worst critic and will never see the beauty in herself at such a time as I do.

I push over a plate of fruit; she picks at it. I shake my head and open my mouth to give her the benefit of some advice but she gives me her exasperated expression - and I back down. Instead: "How're feeling?"

"Better. More calm. Like we can stop expecting some bogey woman to jump out at us every second. I just want to concentrate on you two from now on. Imagine - all that has happened this past week- not to mention the weeks before!"

I exhaled and looked down at our sleeping daughter for some confirmation. She was now seven days old and yet seemed to have been a part of our life since the beginning. Perhaps she had- was she somehow the invisible bond that had drawn us to each other- the task in life that we had been meant to achieve? Is that what a man really means when he believes he sees his unborn children in the eyes of one special woman?

I watched Maia's face in repose, long lashes on closed lids, little snub nose, full lips slightly parted. Her skin is like the velvet of a pale peach and her perfect round little head is fuzzed with golden curls. She gives me the strength. "Uma..."

"Why do you keep calling me Uma?"

"It's your name."

"Yeah...which you never use unless you're mad with me. It's always either Tink or Ums if I'm in the clear..."

"I'm not angry with you. But I want to talk...serious, you know?"

At that she smiled warmly, her eyes dancing. "Yeah...I kind of guessed..." She was further along the line that I had given her credit for. I should have known she would be. Returning her expression with my own wry grin, I went on. "Last night...a few of us had a drink..."

"Yes, I know...and very little sleep! You need to catch up, not have an all-nighter..."

"Let me finish, will ya? What I'm trying to say is this...We contacted Dea. IM'd her, in fact. She answered. We threw a few things at her and she promised a decision soon- but you and Heather have to be in on it next time. She won't work with only the boys."

I explained the line the conversation had taken in more detail. Uma said nothing. That's when I knew how momentous this was for her. She said absolutely nothing- but I noticed she began eating almost unconsciously, as if to occupy her hands.

When I finally finished my rambling justification for the way I felt and how I wanted us to proceed, she put down her tea cup and replied. Her comment was uncharacteristically short and to the point. "Whatever it takes. You know it's what I have wanted above all. But...I have to explain to Maximus. Leaving him is the hardest thing. The only thing I will really ever regret..."

Her simple honesty, so necessary now, brought a lump to my throat. I began to imagine how Maximus felt and, for the first time ever, put myself in another man's shoes. His nobility shone forth even greater than ever. I am not sure, were the positions reversed, that I could have acted as he had done of late. To love an other women enough to set her free is perhaps the purest love of all.

"I'll send him to you when Maia's settled. He stayed over last night..."

UMA

I heard the click of the door as he closed it behind him and entered the bedroom. Rising from where I was sitting, I walked over to greet him and we stood and surveyed each other. There was a kind of peace between us now; I could feel it in the air about. All the sexual tension and the confused passion that seemed always to swirl about us when we met, was strangely absent.

He smiled softly, looked a little bashful, seemed unsure what to say- so unlike his normal quiet mastery of any situation. Finally he asked. "The child? Does she thrive?"

I nodded and led him to her cradle where he stood and gazed at her sleeping, her little hands curled into fists and lying beside her tiny face. "She is quite perfect. Beautiful. Dormi, parvule!" he whispered as his thumb traced a pattern down her cheek. Then turning to me, he looked at me and murmured. "She might have been ours."

"I know. But she is not. We both know that now." He inclined his head sadly but his eyes were still smiling. "Should I go? I will not make this decision without your blessing. Perhaps we are too selfish, too lost in the joy of our child's birth and failing to consider those others who have claims on us..."

He took my hands in his, turned my small palms over and then closed his fingers gently around them. "No. You must go. It is the only way. She will make it possible for you and also, I believe, She will take care of those left behind. We have all played our part and have Her support. But, Uma, my Melissa,my sweet girl, you cannot stay and try to pretend that life will ever simply return to normal after events as momentous as these. It cannot. It never does. One goes forward in life, never back. Your priorities have now changed and you must cleave to your family, forsaking all others...aren't they the words of your ritual?" Maximus smiled at me and it made my heart ache even more. Of course what he said was making sense. It was what I knew to be true but hearing him face it with so little recourse to sentiment or his own feelings broke me up.

"But, Max...I owe you so much.  I truly believed there would come a time in the future when we could be together again as we once were and when I could repay all that you deserve- all that I dreamed of sharing with you. Just one more time..."

He smiled. "It is impossible. If Dea is to act, it will be soon and you are a newly delivered mother. In my culture, I should not even be near you for at least forty days. Nor should your husband until the first ten days are out. We might have been brutal in many ways but there were limits to what we demanded of our women..."

I tutted and swatted his hands away playfully. "I was not implying now!" He grinned- of course he had thought no such thing. It was good to smile with him again.

"Come. Sit down with me and let me try to explain something to you." I frowned a little, unsure of what he meant, but let him lead me out onto the balcony again and we sat at the table where I had eaten breakfast not long ago with Terry. There he took a seat facing me and held my hands again. "Say you could see into the future? If there were oracles which could reveal the fates in store for us like in the legends of old? What would we learn of ourselves? If Alice had gone with Terry and left her husband...if I had taken Commodus' hand? If you stay here and rejoin the game...would it really have solved the problems that life threw at us?"

I shrugged. "Fortune telling? Oracles? If you had asked me that a year ago you would have got short shrift - but these days, I am ready to go for anything. But I am still skeptical. I don't know. Can we ever deal in what ifs...?"

Maximus began to answer me but suddenly I could not hear his words. I tried to open my mouth to tell him but, although I could feel his hands holding mine in some part of my senses, his image before my eyes peeled away and I was somewhere else. Home. Early morning. Already it was warm- a high summer, a fine spell...My conscious brain rebelled for a few seconds and then subsided to enter the vision that was opening out before me. My future....

....It was one of those beautiful summer mornings that wake you at dawn and give you a feeling of promise. Only England feels like this on the rare perfect days - nowhere else ever comes even close. We woke so early, just past five, thanks to our daughter and her inability to sleep when she could be awake and causing havoc, but it was already light, a warm and balmy dawn. The night had been humid; we had slept with windows open and bed clothes thrown aside; Terry had muttered darkly several times about air conditioning which he had imagined wholly unnecessary in London. It is, except for about 3 days a year.

I heard her even before she cried- the little snaffling noises she makes as she stirs and the cotton sheet rustles about her. But Terry was up before I was, already easing her into his arms before she broke into full throttle. Of course she stopped then. The minute he comes near her, her eyes never leave him and she calms, waiting for the inevitable moment when he will pick her up and cradle her. She plays him like a pro and he wouldn't have it any other way. I have never known any man love his daughter more.

Terry lay down next to me with Maia in between us and I eased her to my nipple, still lying curled up on my side. He stroked my breast as I fed her; talking softly to both of us while the early morning breeze wafted the curtains and cooled down the still air. It felt like a piece of heaven in that bed- the three of us, a microcosm of the world- man, woman and child.

The day began. It always begins early now. The early morning feed may be a quiet time but not for long- she rarely settles then and so we get up, shower (separately these days while the other minds the baby), dress, play with our daughter when most of the world seems to be still asleep and then I make breakfast and we sit and talk as she dozes in her bassinette. Actually this is the best time of the day- shortly afterwards Terry leaves for work and by the time he returns, I am exhausted, bad tempered, harried and usually just hand her to him and take a break. He must be tired too but he never complains and often nurses her to sleep while I cook dinner and make myself presentable. Every day I think- today we will have a romantic dinner and then I will entice him to bed- and every day we are thwarted. It is either a fractious baby, some late night call from a client, or one of us falls asleep. But we always end the day in each other's arms and, if it is not wild and passionate these days, we know one day it will be again. Nothing has changed. Nothing ever will.

Today is a little different though. A lot different. It is the first time either of us takes a step into the Game again after Maia's arrival. I pushed him to make the first move, knowing full well that everyone was holding their breaths and feeling they had no rights to either of us any more. But they are wrong and I want everyone to see that we are as much part of the World now as we ever were.

So Terry is off to see one of the sisters. 

And I have invited Maximus.

 

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

He was ready to leave. His carryon was by the door but he was lingering with Maia in the garden, wandering around and talking to her, telling her to be a good girl for her Mum and that he would be back soon and he would try not to miss her but he couldn't count on it. I watched from the kitchen and left them to themselves, fighting the ambivalent feelings that his inevitable reluctance to leave raised in me. He had never slept apart from us since the night she was born, since he brought her into the world, the first human being that she ever saw.

They disappeared and then I heard music in the lounge. Standing at the door, I observed them. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Maia lying on his lap; she was staring up at him, her little lips pursed in an attempt to speak as she watched his lips move. Then I heard the song he was playing to her.

 

I believe the light that shines on you
Will shine on you forever
And though I can't guarantee 
There's nothing scary hiding under your bed
I'm gonna stand guard
Like a postcard of a Golden Retriever
And never leave till I leave you 
With a sweet dream in your head
 
I'm gonna watch you shine
Gonna watch you grow
Gonna paint a sign
So you'll always know
As long as one and one is two
There could never be a father
Who loved his daughter more than I love you

 

I wonder how much registers on a child so young? I suspect it's more than we ever realize. Somewhere in her psyche, she knows and understands his words and they will frame the way she always looks up and adores him. I pray that he will always be there for her and for me- neither of us can make it through without him.

And then he returned her to my arms, kissed us both and smiled. "Take care of her and yourself. And..." But whatever he intended saying, he changed his mind and winked instead, turning to go.

"Terry...don't worry. It's only a visit."

He nodded and slipped quietly out of the door. I followed and we watched him drive out of the gate and disappear.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Why Maximus? 

Why not? Without his help would Terry and I have ever found each other again? At the Temple I had asked the goddess for protection and Maximus had appeared that very moment. Not only did I owe him much but I also knew now that it was ordained that he should be a part of my life; I think Terry understands that too.

It has been too long. I sit that morning in the garden, shaded by a large tree, Maia kicking and gurgling by my side and think of all the things I want to say to him. All the things I have kept stored inside since the last time we made love. It was fourteen months ago. On the cruise on that crazy Spin the Bottle night. My life is inexorably different now; I have gone through the fire in many ways and I know I have emerged a different woman. Would he still feel the same as he once did for me? Would I still respond to him as I did? Although we have corresponded and chatted, it is always fairly formal these days, a distance of more than miles setting us apart. He treats me like a mother now, no longer the wayward girl he used to know, and I address him in like terms. I have no idea how or if we can break down this formidable barrier between us.

Does he really want to? I have a notion that I may have become in his mind the unattainable object of his affections. He is a sentimental man, given to an unlikely tendency to romanticism where emotions are concerned. He may seem iron clad, his feelings trapped well beneath his steely resolve, but tears spring readily to his eyes, much as they do to Jack's. Men in different eras did not see weeping as feminine behaviour but as the mark of a man of true character when great sorrow or joy touched his life. Like all fantasies, the best cure for him may be to meet his Lady. Perhaps then he will see that I am simply a woman and there are others with whom he may share more satisfying times.

I think of Ann, my dear searching Ann, who must rake through every nook and cranny of her heart before she will allow herself to love and be loved. It is clear that both of them share something quite unique and beautiful but are both denying themselves from just accepting what they have found- the spectres of others are blinding them to the obvious truth.

I must admit to a little touch of jealousy when I read of her visits with him. More than a little. If she were a less gifted author then maybe I would not feel as I do. But she is too good- Maximus is alive in her prose - he is the vibrant and enigmatic man who has bewitched and bedeviled me for nigh on two years now. It makes me long to be in her position and for him to speak those words to me again. But I fear it may be too late and his sense of honour may mean that we can never return to where we once were.

Throughout that soporific afternoon, I lay and dozed and tended to my child and dreamed of another man. The hours ticked slowly down until his arrival. At four o'clock, I showered and changed, bathed my daughter and dressed her in her sweetest outfit, fed her and then strapped her into her car seat to drive to the airport for his early evening flight. It was busy on the roads but the warm weather made people easy and good tempered; it was a more pleasant drive than usual. Maia slept and woke up sunny and good natured; I slipped on her carrying sling and we made our way through the throngs of August holidaymakers to the arrivals hall.

I wondered if he would recognize me as quickly as usual. I was wearing a long floral skirt, a muslin peasant-style off the shoulder blouse and had tied a scarf round my hair to keep it in place- it is really quite long now and beginning to annoy me, but Terry insists I leave it be and continue to grow it. I do what I'm told. With Maia clinging to my bosom like a baby in a papoose, I must look nothing like my old elegant image. Maximus always liked me to dress up; it was something that women of his era spent much of their efforts on and he appreciated the finish of style. Terry often says that I look years younger now that I rarely bother with makeup or smart clothes. I suspect he prefers it- he has a curious taste for the urchin look in women. God help me, if that means I look like Fluffy Head. Not sure Maximus would have fallen for that lady's charms.

But there he was and he did see me. His face changed in an instant. Where he had emerged from the exit serious-faced, almost grim, he suddenly became the boy again. Delight lit up his glorious eyes and his face broadened into a wide grin. Usually he walks quite slowly and purposefully, rarely hurrying, but this time he almost ran across the space between us, holding out his arms as I moved forward to join him. People stepped back as if in acknowledgement of our territory and I saw a few smiles directed at us. 'Look, that young woman and her child welcoming the husband back,' they seemed to say. For a magical moment it felt as if it were true.

He didn't kiss me or pick me up or even hug me. Maximus' first concern was Maia. He tilted his head, stole a glance at her little face as it peered at him from my breast and he chuckled, stroking her peach skin in his roughened fingers. She watched him curiously. I wondered if she saw a resemblance or sensed him as a Brother. It made me wonder what gifts the little ones might have inherited from us. Would they have that ability to feel their uncles and aunts as we did each other? She is very relaxed with Lachlan but then she sees so much of him and he has that way with children. Maximus did not seem to be the sort of man who sits on a floor playing Goofy to three-month-old babies all day long.

"She is more beautiful than ever. Just like her mother. How do you both do it?" I enjoyed his compliment.

"Well, she gets to lie about and be waited on hand and foot. I get no sleep, precious little food and work my fingers to the bone," I giggled back.

He bowed slightly. "Then I recommend it to all women if this is the end result." How sweet he can be when in this mood; I had forgotten his courtesy and manner. "But you look even more slender than usual. I hope you are taking care of yourself. Thorne mentioned that you were thinner than ever- he worries, you know."

I gasped. "You talked to Terry about me? Blimey. What did he say?" At that I put on my impression of his voice. "Listen mate- you make sure you treat her right. She weighs one ounce less when I get back and I'll carve it from your gut. You got that?" Maximus laughed warmly.

"It was a very civilized conversation actually. But essentially it carried a similar message. You know Mr. Thorne, I believe. He rarely minces his words." He gave me a knowing glance. I raised my eyes as we sauntered towards the car park.

Max asked for the keys and he drove home. We didn't really talk much, just stray observations about the weather and the traffic, general conversation about the Sisters and Brothers - safe topics that did not require us to face up to what was happening. I wondered whether now that he was here if he regretted it. You know that moment when you attain the secret dream and it really isn't all you had hoped for? He must be thinking of others he now has and wishing he had had the sense not to embroil himself in the mine field of my life again.

Back at the house, I showed him to his room and asked if he minded looking after himself while I bathed my daughter and put her to bed. He said he needed a shower and it was no problem. I slipped along the corridor to the nursery and laid her down; she looked up at me and I thought I saw a question in her eyes. I must have imagined it. She is three months' old. What can she perceive of her surroundings?

 

 

MAXIMUS

She never fails to astonish me when I see her. The woman of a thousand looks. Today she was like a country girl, all natural beauty and innocence. She looks younger as a mother than she did when I first met her. Some women are born to be mothers - and it is often the most unlikely that are the most attuned to the state. Take Lucilla for example. Who would have believed that she would have been such a parent?

I can feel her nervousness; she does not know what I expect. In fact I expect nothing. This is about her. I will watch and wait on her readiness. It is a beautiful evening; I showered and stood by the window looking over the garden which is now in full bloom, in summer abundance. The air is still and humid, little disturbs the calm but the distant sounds of traffic and the occasional burst of laughter from children playing in the gardens beyond. It feels like a home, very different from the one I once knew, but familiar in its essence. Another man's home. What was I doing trespassing on his ground?

Then I heard the soft sound of a woman singing. My mind dislocated in that curious way that memory can take you back with just the trigger of a bird's song or a line of a well-known poem. I did not know the melody but I knew the tenor of the sweet voice. A mother singing to her child. What a resonance for any man.

My feet carried me instinctively to follow the sound and I found myself at the threshold of a corner room in the house. It was a bright room, windows on two sides and painted in yellow with slashes of colour all over and cartoonish figures on the walls. This was the child's nursery. By the window, sitting on a large oak rocker was Uma, her breast bared and the tiny child suckling, her little fingers caressing the breast that fed her. I saw my own wife- dead these hundreds of years and another long-lost baby but it was the same image. Life never really changes. Humans are simply humans after all. Uma looked up, saw me watching and smiled. "Come in."

I stepped forward. "I did not mean to intrude..." The child seemed to hear my voice and let go of the nipple, dropping her head to follow the sound with a gurgle of content. Then she saw me and her face changed. It was uncanny. Uma shushed her and offered her the nipple again, she took it but continued watching me as I came nearer; she did not suck, just held the teat and watched me coolly, a rather startling appraisal. I could only think of her father. It made me smile. This little one intended already to be a formidable opponent.

I crouched down to watch them; she looked up at her mother - her face reddened and burst into a loud sobbing. Uma held her against her shoulder, pulled up her blouse discreetly and rocked her, but the child was not happy-she kept trying to turn her head to see me.

"I'm sorry, Max- I don't know what's got into her..."

"She's missing her father. It is understandable. She heard my deeper voice, thought it was his and then found it was only me. And now she is letting me know her feelings in no uncertain terms," I smiled and reached out to stroke her little head lightly covered in  blonde wispy curls. I had thought she would be darker- but then he is not really dark and Uma's skin is fair although her hair is brown. This is not a little Spaniard.

I withdrew and left them together, going downstairs, finding a beer in the refrigerator and wandering out into the garden to savour the remains of the day. Some time later, Uma joined me; the child had finally dropped off to sleep. She was full of apologies.

Dinner was a simple affair- cold chicken, salad, hunks of good bread and a bottle of chilled white wine. Uma drank sparingly. "It affects my milk' she mentioned. I thought it an odd notion. We chatted about this and that, more warmly than earlier but there was still some reserve and I was unsure how I could ultimately deal with this. It wasn't really my problem. I would have to let Uma decide.

"Max..." she suddenly ventured, "This isn't going as I'd planned..." And then on cue the baby began to cry. I saw Uma frown but she sprang up and excused herself again. I was abandoned once more to my glass of wine and solitude.

 

 

UMA

She has a sixth sense. Terry reckons she can hear his fly being unzipped - that is how good she is at waking at the wrong moment. I dashed up and she was really in a bad mood. Even when I had calmed her she kept twisting around as if she expected to see Maximus stealing up on her. She is her father's daughter.

But at last she settled and sleep claimed her again. I tiptoed from the room and went to my own. I looked at my reflection and decided to freshen up; a quick shower and squirt of perfume, a touch of makeup and a brush through my hair. I left it down and then looked at myself in the long mirror. I am skinnier than ever but my breasts are fuller; my belly is a little rounder but returning to its flatter shape. I cannot imagine it will bother Maximus- he is far too earthy a man to think of such insignificant details. I will have to do; if he wants me he must take me as I am. But one thing is for sure- I want him and have no intention of shirking from this moment. He won't touch me unless I give him leave. I reached for a change of clothes and then I thought better of it. Pulling out a loose silk negligee, I slipped it over my head and let the sensual folds slither down my body. I hadn't worn such a garment in many months.

I looked at the reflection. My new milk-engorged breasts were straining against the fabric and my nipples were clearly defined; I enjoyed the sensuality of that. On bare feet, I padded downstairs to the conservatory where we had dined and I silently walked over to where he sat with his back to me, lost in thought.

For a moment I surveyed the back of his head, his wonderful hair line and the thick neck with its suggestion of strength and will. I breathed deeply to choke down the rising panic and stepped before him. He said nothing. Just looked. Eyes that seemed to scarcely believe what they saw. Hands that seemed to wish to touch and yet made no move to do so. His lips parted but he did not speak. So I moved for him. I took my hands to the straps and lowered them down, slipping the garment from my shoulders and allowing it to shimmer onto the floor at my feet. He made a low purr, like a great cat, as he took in my nakedness.

"Touch me, Maximus. It is all for you. We have waited too long."

His head dropped to my breasts and he kissed each nipple tenderly, his hands smoothing down my sides to feel the outline of my body, to ascertain whether this was real and flesh, not ephemery and memory. His hands alone on my body were enough to make me stifle a sigh; he looked up at me and smiled, his beautiful smile, just for me. Drawing me to his lap he cradled me like a child in his arms and rocked me against his chest. I felt the wetness of tears against my cheek, they mingled with my own.

And so we made love on a hot August night on the floor of my conservatory. It was hurried but yet he took his time- we made desperate movements but we tortured each other with desire and anticipation. I stripped his clothes away frantically; he wrestled me to the floor. We kissed passionately, rolling over and over like lion cubs at play, nipping and biting, he covered my body with his mouth, I writhed for him; I touched and kissed every part of him, he groaned and thrust against me in his sweet torture. I came, he held me, I came again; he made me take more, until my clitoris was fluttering and sore but as sensitive as a hair trigger. He chuckled when I begged him to stop and made me come again. I felt his fingers invade me; he was less gentle now, more forceful, his laboured breathing showing he was no longer in control. I whispered "In me...me fute!"

It was enough. His own language spoken at such a time breaks through; profanity in one's own tongue always has a much more striking effect. He held my hips and plunged, I groaned at the girth of his cock even wet as I was but he did not spare me, simply hilting and beginning to pound into me -in, down, grind and then pull out slowly, his teeth gritted and a muscle in his face twitching with the effort. I whispered some more to him. "Da mihi mentulam tuam, tam magnus, ingens, altior..." after that I forgot every language I ever knew as he took me at my word and fucked me as only Maximus can, like a relentless wave of pleasure, until he allowed himself the blessed relief of ejaculation and his deep grunt and the shudders that wracked him seemed as though they would tear him apart. I held him and lay on the floor awash with our fluids, semen, moisture, milk and tears. It was many moments before either of us could speak.

Beyond that, time stood still for us, all barriers down. We sat amidst the debris of the meal, naked, hands joined, and we talked over everything that had passed in our separate lives since we had last been close. I cannot begin to describe how good it was to hear him open up and to have him listen to me. How I have missed him!

Later we picked up the discarded clothing, dressed and he carried me upstairs to his room. I asked him to bring in Maia's traveling cot in case she wouldn't settle in the nursery. We set it up together and then we undressed each other, showered and he carried me to bed. More love, more talk, more sweet closeness until we fell asleep in each other's arms.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

MAXIMUS

I did not hear the child. I suppose I sleep soundly and the noises of people and family make little difference to me. It was when she carried the child in and laid her in the cradle in our room that I stirred. She put a finger to her lips and slipped back into my arms. I drew her naked body to me and we sank gratefully back into sleep.

Morning light and the baby was awake again. This time, Uma brought her into the bed and fed her there, I curled round her body lulled by the snaffling sounds of the child and the sweet milky smell. I lay and watched them, my head in Uma's lap and my fingers idly playing with the little baby's feet, kissing the tiny toes and blowing against her soles as I once used to do with my own son. Uma smiled, the baby wriggled and I moved from the innocent pleasure of the feel of a child to the erotic sensation of placing a kiss on the soft naked curls of her mother. I heard Uma sigh as I licked her soft folds; her thighs parted and she gave me access. She was suckled by both babe and man.

I did not drive her far, aware that she needed to keep her wits while she held her baby. Pulling away, I continued to stroke her softly and lay by her, my other hand touching the exposed nipple. Milk was leaking from it, drip by drip and I placed my finger to catch the flow, raising it to my mouth. Does anything taste like the milk of a nursing mother? Is it a memory of a far off time when our mothers fed us? Safe in that bed with those two girls under my care, I felt the safety and contentment that only a family can bring to a man. Mine if only for a few days.

The child lost interest in her food and seemed to want to play; Uma lay her down by her side and tickled her chin, the baby laughed and I stretched out a hand to touch her. Little Maia frowned and stared at me. I laughed louder.

"I have not seen such a stare since I was eyed up by tigers in the arena. This little one is quite a stubborn creature. I tremble before her gaze. And what a temper!" She had started to pucker up her face again and cry. I sat up and raised her in my arms dangling her above my head and raising her up and down. The crying stopped and she began to chortle. A breakthrough.

"Be careful, she might throw up on you!" Uma giggled. I laughed; it would be worth it to get this little one on my side. I cradled her on my lap and she began to observe me with less suspicion. In no time she seemed to be dozing off again. "She likes your naked lap- I guess she is my daughter after all!" Uma added playfully.

Lowering the child to the bed beside me, I rolled Uma under me. We made eye contact and Uma appeared confused. She stole a glance at her daughter by her side. "Max- we can't...she's still in the bed!"

"So?" I kissed down her neck, sucked on the delicate skin at her throat, heard her deep sigh and began my act of love.

"No!" Her hands pushed at my shoulders. "She will see!"

"See what?" I lay on my side and pulled Uma against me; we lay spooned close and watched the child sleepily wriggle beside us. "What does she know? She is safe and warm by her mother's side. There is nothing to fear. I have slept with many a woman whose child lay with us. It is natural; how they learn about men and women."

Uma gasped. "Natural? I'm sure it's against the law these days. Maximus- surely you never did it with your wife with Marcus in the bed?"

I grinned. "I must have done as a baby but later probably not- we had enough rooms and slaves to care for him when we wished for times alone. But lower born women in their one-roomed huts- we were not so offended by human sexuality as you all are. Humans, animals, they all lived, ate, shat and fucked in close proximity. I don't remember children being marked for life by it."

"Yeah...and some of those little girls would be whoring themselves round your men at twelve or younger. Come on, Max- don't be naïve. We don't do things like that these days."

"Then perhaps you should try it, Uma. For I assure you that this is a wonderful experience of life as it is really is. Man, woman and child- part of the mystery of life."

She shook her head and turned back to her daughter who rooted again for her nipple. I watched the child suck and then stroked her naked body with my knuckle, gently skimming over her fair flesh. Her body trembled and she looked back at me; the change in her eyes was clear to see- they said "Love me, Maximus"

We sank back to our side by side position and she pressed back against my cock, I rocked into the warm cleft of her buttocks until I was hard enough, all the while tracing my finger pattern over her body, finally resting a hand between her moist thighs. The baby sucked and gurgled; her mother gasped and sighed. I raised her right leg back over my thigh, hitched her hips until I could gain the angle of entry and then used my fingers to guide me; her deep groan told me when I was home.

Her voice sounded earthy and primal; a woman at her most female- milk flowing and cunt dripping, the smells of woman filled my nostrils and made my head swim. Deep inside her I moved slowly, grinding against her strong walls. She may now be a mother but she is still tight and strong, maybe a little more able to receive me than before when I remember how carefully I had to enter until she was fully ready.

In my hands her body felt like warm silk, soft and yielding, her passage a dark wet heat in which I had found my home. How to describe the sensation of an aroused female, lost in her own swirling pleasure, man inside her and child at her nipple? We moved gently, so as not to disturb the baby but the sensitivity was so heightened for us both that further stimulation was not needed. For many minutes we endured this magnificent torment until we could bear no more. My face pressed against her hair, the thick curls that smelled of flowers, one hand on her left breast, sticky with milk, the other firmly grasping her hip, I shed my seed and heard her choke off her sobs of pleasure against the pillow. My hand left her hip and reached forward to draw the child into my embrace. The baby chuckled in delight at something, Uma sighed with satiated pleasure, I groaned and we laughed together.

Pulling the little girl upon my chest, Uma curled by my side, we lay together and played in the early morning light. I recalled such mornings in Trujillo, home on leave, bathed, fed, rested and well-fucked with my wife at my side and my son in my arms. Such rare moments had shone like jewels in the barren desert of my life. Yet they were all the greater for being just that. Would a man such as I ever have really appreciated the singular joy of domesticity had I not been denied it for so many years? How would I have coped with the day-to-day drudgery of farm life, so used to having every need taken care of by the countless lackeys who obeyed my every command?

As I lay there I felt content, happy to be in that place but also at ease with the knowledge that I would soon be on my way to another life of different rhythms. Perhaps I shall never be allowed the possession of such simple treasures as these but if that is my fate then I have still been a fortunate man. I have known love, command, respect, honour, devotion - and I have done my duty. I have won a new life and it is fulfilling and satisfying, met women with whom I share unique bonds and I have a part of this woman's heart and a purpose in her fate. Without me, she would not be back with her man and her future would not be secured. I will never be without her again. And if the goddess so decrees it there is always a chance that she may be mine once more. Who knows in this world where a man's fate hangs on a thread in a stormy gale and can be blown this way or that at the whim of a playful spirit? I for one welcome the vagaries of my fate. Do what you will to me now. I have my place in my world and it can never be taken from me again...

...I opened my eyes. Maximus was still there, holding my hands. But he simply whispered. "That is not how it ends. There is more...the real truth..look..the diary..." I felt my lids closing again and then that sense of stepping once more into a void. This time the feeling of light and joy was gone. There was something heavy and oppressive in the air like the approach of thunder. The atmosphere was menacing and I had the urge to scram out 'be careful!" like when one watches a film and knows that untold horror lies behind that locked door. And then the door opens.... I was reading a diary, one I had written. No...one I was going to write...in my future...

UMA

...He came in quietly. I had heard the car but not the key in the door or his step on the stair. Maia was lying on the sheepskin rug before me as I watched a TV show and flicked through a magazine. I felt his presence before I saw him. He was leaning on the door watching us; I smiled and leaned over to pick her up.

"Will you look who's here? Your very own Daddy..."I walked over to him and handed her over. His face was still and quiet, but his eyes were full and moist. He took her from me and held her to his shoulder, his lips skimming her wispy little scalp.

"Hello, princess. How you're doing?" My smile broadened; I rested my head against his arm.

"So good to have you back, Terry. I have missed you so!"

I felt the slight shrugging away, his back straightening, sensed a reserve and even a coldness in his demeanour. "Oh really? Thought your bed was warm enough..." He moved off with Maia and began to talk to her softly, silly things, ignoring me, shutting me out; she gurgled and recognized him, grabbing at his hair and chuckling.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked. He shot me a look.

"Not in front of her." And then he walked past me and hissed in my ear. "Never in front of my daughter..."

And he left the room with her.

I should have known the diary would have repercussions when I thought about it. I was trying to describe a moment, a mood, the single instant when I found my way with Maximus again. The irony of the whole thing is, he found his way forward then with me. We knew that we had unlocked the door to that place where we could know each other and still hold to our other allegiances. I love him. He loves me. It is about us, no one else. He is not the man I wish to spend my life with. He is not my greatest passion. He can never replace Terry and no longer has any wish to do so. But he has a part of me and always did; it will never be denied again.

Lachlan says you steal the moment when it comes. You have to- such times are fleeting and rationed in our lives. I always thought he was right- actually I still do. But, sometimes we look in the wrong direction and the moment we grasp is actually the pivotal moment of our lives but only later consequences shows that to us. I took my moment with Maximus and missed the lifetime with Terry. All on the chance of a single decision, out of all the decisions we make in our lives. The one that ultimately was to negate all the others. The one I had always feared. But when it came, it was not at all as I had imagined. It simply dropped from the sky. Like Chicken Licken. The sky fell in.

I cannot churn out the story of the next few days and weeks. It is consigned to some deep place within me and even my words cannot help to unravel their cruel complexity. While our daughter grew and thrived that balmy summer, our love seemed to atrophy into a bewildering bramble forest of confusion and bitterness. Whatever way we turned we stabbed ourselves, bright spots of lifeblood on the very fabric that had once knitted our fragile souls. Our home became the wilderness and our love became a weapon.

Awful arguments. Tears. Anger. Recriminations. Untruths. Misunderstanding. Wild, wild tempestuous outpourings that any sane person would have recognized could only come from those who loved each other intensely; for only love can explain such awesome emotional wounds. Every time she fell asleep, we began and ripped ourselves apart. Flagellated our world with our own bare hands.

"WHAT CAN I DO NOW???" I screamed at him one night. "WHAT CAN I SAY? You won't accept sorry. You won't accept my love. You won't even let me touch you, for God's sake? What do you want me to do?"

He stood by the window, his back turned, his shoulders sagging; I knew he was in such pain. Every instinct I had screamed to me to hold him and love him but he would not let me. Had I made a move, he would have simply pushed me away. We hadn't slept together in weeks.

"No one else. Ever again. Ever."

The room was silent as I took in his words.

"You mean that you want us to pull out of the Game? After all we have promised? After all they have done for us?"

He turned round and looked me straight in the eye. "You. Not me. You."

I blinked, not comprehending at first. "You want me to pull out of the Game- but not you. You make visits and I don't?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You're a mother now. You can't do it to her. I will not have our child find a man in your bed ever again....do you understand?"

I sank down onto a chair. "You are a father. Why is it different? I could go away for a weekend...."

"It just is. Different. I'm a man. It's different. Ask your friend the general how it works. He knows the score. Now there's a man who knows what a woman's place is..."

I caught the words that sprang to my lips; I would not give into a gut reaction. I held back my hand from slapping his face for his comment. What good would it do me to resort to violence? This was way past normal responses.

"Terry...I'm going out for a while. She's asleep and there is some apple juice in a bottle in her room. If she wakes give her that. I'll be back later, in time for her next feed..."

He made no reply or objection. I took the keys of the car and drove around, eventually finding myself on the Heath. I sat in a bluff and watched the evening scenes of couples strolling, parents with tired children, dogs gamboling after sticks, teenagers larking about - and I would have given anything in the world to be a part of that ordinary existence. But I wasn't. I was in a never-ending nightmare of hopelessness.

Maybe you think I should have simply done as he said. I think he would have made every effort to make it all right then. But I knew inside that too much had been said. Once you get to that place, it is already too late. The things we had done and said would always lie between us now. But it wasn't just that. He was wrong. I knew he was wrong and I would never agree with him. You can subvert a lot of yourself for the sake of compromise and the greater good but there are some moments when you know that to deny the truth of this denies the whole basis of your life and what you stand for. And how can that ever be the foundation for a future?

I had one choice. I took it. I think I actually believed until the moment that it failed that in the end Terry Thorne would see reason. It was his profession to find the better way.

Back in the quiet house, I poured myself a glass of brandy and drank it down. It wasn't good for my milk but I needed the help. I flipped through the CDs and found the track I wanted. On the way, I caught the titles of our favourite albums, and smiled despite myself. You could reel off the story of our time together simply with reference to the most oft-played pieces.

I inserted the disc, found the track and pressed pause. Then I went upstairs. He was sitting on the floor watching her sleep as he often did these days; the faithful guard dog watching silently over his child. He looked up as I entered and I shied from catching his eyes. His pain was too intense and hurt me too much. "I want to tell you something. Can we go downstairs?" I whispered.

He nodded, stood and then I slipped down before him. He entered the lounge and sat down. "Do you want a drink?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Talk."

I bit my lip and composed myself. "I want you to listen to something in a moment to help you understand. But first I am going to say this. It is not meant to start a fight. It is not meant to be aggressive. It is not only SAS soldiers who do not understand the meaning of retreat. I am an Irish woman. No surrender, Terry. It is our cry, too."

I hit the play button and the song rang out in its plaintive lament.

 

I will go down with this ship
And I won't raise my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be

 

That's just a flavour of this song. I won't quote it all. It is about love and loss and the whole stupid insanity of it all. That those we love most are the hardest to live up to. And sometimes the best love is the one that doesn't make it in the end.

 

And when we meet
Which I'm sure we will
All that was then
Will be there still
I'll let it pass
And hold my tongue
And you will think
That I've moved on....
 
But, I will go down with this ship
And I won't raise my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be

 

"So...you say no?"

"You gave me an ultimatum, Terry. I don't agree with you. It will not work. I cannot live under your control in that way. There cannot be one law for me and another for you, no matter how much I love you."

He looked down at the floor and sat in silence.

"That wasn't the ultimatum." He suddenly spoke. "This is." He stood up and walked to where I was. Face to face now. Eye to eye. "You carry on with this and I shall leave you. I shall never come back to you."

I gasped, a dry heave in my stomach almost forcing me to retch with the impact of his words. "Leave me? Leave Maia?"

He shrugged. "Your choice."

I shook my head, aware that a single tear was running down my cheek. "NO! Your choice. Not mine."

He wiped it away. "Last chance, Uma. Ultimatum."

I said nothing. He groaned.

"I'll look after you both. You know I will. Let me have access, hey? I don't want to fuck her life up like I did with Henry."

"She's your daughter as much as mine. She's yours whenever you wish to be here. I will never use her as a pawn."

"I know you won't. Not your style at all, love."

He ruffled up my hair and then turned to the door. "I'll go now, if you don't mind. I'll send someone for my stuff later."

"Terry! Why is this happening? I love you..." I blurted it out in despair.

"That's the point, love. Love. Too much. Love you too much for this. Always did. Always will. I can't share you. I won't share you. It's the way I am..."

That's the last conversation we ever really had. I packed up his clothes and someone took them. I believe he moved into Dino's place in London until he found his own. He emailed me to arrange for packers to gather up some of his personal things. Once a week, I bundled up Maia and her truck loads of equipment and he called in, said hello and took her for the night. The next day he returned and said goodbye. We never spoke except about her welfare.

After a while, he took her for longer periods and I began to arrange visits. They are written of elsewhere. Maximus stood quietly by until I called one day and whispered. "I need you now." I became his number One. We have a singular relationship that works for us. I shall write of it anon.

But I shall never quite love again as I once did. No, wrong tense. As I do. For love never dies. It just stays in the memory and grows in a little girl who is now the only thing left to prove what we once had...

"... NO!" I heard my own voice strike out against the words before me; at the same time, I felt Maximus' strong hands squeeze mine and jerk me back to consciousness. My eyes shot open and he was watching me.

"Did you...did you read that...?" I gasped.

He nodded.

"Oh my God...it was so...tell me, is that our future? If we stay?"

He nodded.

"You and I?"

Once again he nodded his head.

"And you wish for me to leave, knowing that you could have had me?"

He shook his head, looking somewhere above me, his eyes sparkling with pale green fire. "In those circumstances? No, I would not wish you to stay. You think that if you remain it will be good for all the rest of us? It will not. It will tear this place apart. Go...leave it in Her hands. We mere mortals will surely make a tragedy out of it should we seek to solve it ourselves. That would be hubris of the highest order!"

I sat on awhile, still trying to catch my breath after the intense experiences that had passed me by. I wondered how long we had been sitting there. The clock by the bed showed that a mere fifteen minutes had passed. It felt like a lifetime.

Maximus stood up and made to take his leave. I flung my arms around him, aware now that this was it- or very soon would be. "Maximus...I will never see you again!"

He pressed his lips to the soft skin of my neck and then whispered in my ear. "One day...but not yet... not yet..." I looked up at him and saw the lively spark of his spirit burning brightly in his eyes. "Let me go, Uma...so that I can set you free...set me free, Uma...so that I can go forward as it is Her Will."

I kissed him gently and then stepped away and watched as he turned from me towards the door. But there he paused and looked back. "But she gave us that, did she not? One more time, for all the old times?"

I smiled. "Actually...I think it was more than one!"

His laughter rang out across the room and his smile was as wide and as boyish as I ever remember it.  But he said nothing more, just gave a slight bow and left. I closed my eyes and took a deep sigh. It was done.