They did just what he had said. It was Friday night and they got pissed. It appeared Russell had arrived in a taxi so they started off by strolling down to her local and having a few beers there. Then they moved on to an Irish bar in town where there was a live band and spent a few hours drinking, dancing and generally absorbing the craic - giving out plenty of it as well. Crowe was completely mental at times. The arrogant edge was gone and he was like an over grown teenager; it seemed to be a combination of booze and high spirits. He was no longer an important actor with a reputation for surly behaviour but a Sydney boy having a good time at the weekend. Ash thought this side of him was adorable.

By midnight, he had hardly warmed up and his infectious devilment was affecting her. They moved on to a nightclub and were still dancing when the place was emptying at three; by this time both could only stand up by hanging on to each other and smooching round the dance floor. Finally they left and both gasped as the cold night air hit them. Ash suddenly realised that she felt sick.

"I'm going to throw up..." she muttered - and she did, right where she was standing, splattering the ground and his boots. " Oh, God!" she groaned, "I'm so sorry..."

Russell bellowed with laughter. "Get it all up. Nothing like a good chunder, mate." He grabbed her as she heaved again and held her over until she had retched and coughed it all out. "Think you've just thrown your fucking guts up there, love. Let's get you home."

Things began to fade for Ash at that point. She had a vague memory of a taxi queue and her legs going from under her and then feeling wrapped up warm in his arms as she dozed, smelling his musky, aftershave, tobacco, beery smell and then she was in a cab curled up on his lap and then...

Her eyes opened and it was morning. Her head was banging and her eyelids were like lead weights. With a groan and a nauseous lurch in her stomach, she managed to reach over and read the time on the bedside clock 1.30 pm. How had she got home? Ash realised she was in bed and suddenly wondered what she had done. Had she...? But the bed was empty and the pillow next to her was still fluffed up- no one had slept in the bed but her. Pulling herself up to a sitting position she realised that she was in her underwear; the jeans and shirt of the night before folded neatly across the chair and a waste paper basket at the side of the bed with a sign saying: 'Chunder here' and an arrow pointing down.

Crowe had brought her home, put her to bed, folded up her clothes and made sure she had something to throw up in. There was also a glass of water and some panadol on her bedside table. She reached out and took them, gulping down the tablets gratefully.  Staggering to her feet, she made it to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Shit! She looked like complete shit! And she had thrown up over his boots and ...

"Oh God!" she groaned. "It must be years since I have been that shit-faced. And I go and do it when I'm out on a date with a movie star. Could it get any worse?"

Downstairs, she found the house empty. On the counter top in the kitchen was a note.

Hope you don't mind. I crashed out on your couch. Couldn't keep my 
eyes open. Helped myself to some tea and toast. Would of brought 
you some but you were out for the count. By the way, you snore. 

R.

When Molly and Steve called in later on, they found Ash lying like a sick dog on the couch, wrapped in her dressing gown watching the Saturday sports' results.

"What's up, Ash. You look terrible? Sickening for something?" Molly asked concerned.

"Self inflicted. Got off my face last night. Nearly honked my insides out."

"What? You? On your own?" Molly flopped down beside her surprised. It was not like her friend to drink alone.

"No- with a companion. I lost a bet. Told this guy I could drink him under the table. Seems I couldn't."

"Really? Who was he?" Molly settled back for a gossip.

"Russell Crowe." Ash announced and waited for the effect.

Molly's face was a picture. Her mouth fell open and she gasped. Ash filled her in on the events of Thursday and Friday night. "Are you going out with him then?"

"After last night? He'll run a million miles. But I have to say that I had the best night I've had in ... years. What I remember of it, that is," Ash shrugged sadly.

"Did you...you know?" Molly began.

"...Don't think so. No signs anyway. Actually I hardly think he was capable anyway- he drank twice as much as me. Didn't touch me really. Perfect gentleman.  We were more like two mates on a binge."

"Apart from carrying you in the taxi queue, cuddling you in the cab, undressing you and putting you to bed..."

"...And dancing with him all night- I think we even did the tango at one point. Actually I think we did have a snog but I don't remember it; just have this vague impression."

"Perhaps it's all talk on the set then if he made so little impression," Molly laughed.

"The fact that he even made an impression  at all suggests quite the opposite. I couldn't even feel my limbs but I seem to have felt that!" Ash replied with a grin.

The phone rang and Steve answered it. "Bloke on the phone for you. Says he's called Max."

Ash snatched the receiver.

"You still alive?" His deep voice rumbled out in her ear.

"Barely. How's your head?"

"Fucking agony. You're a terrible influence on me, love. I'm normally teetotal, ya know. Just woke up and my head feels like my fucking throat's been cut. What you doing tonight? Fancy a drink, darlin'?"

Ash made a vomiting sound. He giggled. "My boots stink. I've thrown them outside. Want to come over and shampoo them for me? Then you could shampoo me- I could do with a bath." It was said as a joke but there was a question there somewhere. What was their relationship now, it seemed to say?

"Russ, my body is so loaded with toxins that I'd collapse if I stood up. I think you are carrying substantially more weight than I am - your system can cope better. So - as tempting as your offer would normally be- I'll have to take a rain check, as they say."

He moaned in disappointment. "Want me to come over and scrub your back then?"

Ash groaned at the suggestion. "Some other time, Crowe."

"Make it soon, Ashie," he whispered softly before hanging up.

"What was all that about?" Molly asked as she dropped back against the cushions, a dreamy grin on her face. "I've just had the best offer a woman is ever likely to get - and I turn it down. Am I nuts?" Ash answered, shaking her aching head.

Ash expected a call the next day; none came. On Monday, she was on the set and Russell made no attempt to come near her. In fact she spent most of the day in the Portacabin and saw little of him. The shoot was nearing completion; only another two weeks and they would pack up and move on. She was already working on the Morocco storyboards and was due to fly off at the end of the week; technical staff would be needed before the crew.

The next day was much the same and Ash realised that she had blown her chance; he had given her enough openings but she had not responded and he had backed off. Or perhaps he had found someone else to fool around with? Sitting in the canteen shed on the Wednesday lunchtime, Ash had her worst fears confirmed when she picked up the tail end of a conversation on the table behind her.

"He's like a rutting bull. I mean, he knows what he's doing but he doesn't half push it fast. Nought- to- sixty in two seconds, know what I mean?  He's got the biggest dick I've ever seen- I'm so sore it hurts. He was quite blunt about it. He said 'Want to fuck, love? I'll give you a good time but strictly tonight only. I've a hard on the size of Tasmania and I don't fancy a wank.' Just like that. Took me to his trailer and we got down and did it. Three times in one afternoon- he can't half recover quickly. Hasn't even mentioned it since, although he always gives me a big grin. You can't help but like him."

Ash knew she meant Russell. He hadn't called her because this girl from the costume department had rolled over for him. And he hadn't had to put up with being vomited over and the rest. A feeling of intense disillusionment washed over her. It had begun to feel like they had been making a connection of sorts but she had read it so wrong. Her first impression had been the right one. The guy was not interested in anything but getting laid.

Russell loped over to Ash's Portacabin a few minutes later, wiping the mud from his face but only making it worse; his hands were caked in the stuff. Knocking and entering, he found the room empty and was just about to turn to go when she barged in from outside.

He caught her as she almost bowled over backwards out of the door.

"Got ya! I told you you'd fall for me eventually," he beamed.

Ash returned his good humour with a cold stare and shrugged off his hands.

"You're filthy. Get a wash."

"Something up? That time of the month or you not getting enough...? He asked cockily, purposely reminding her of his previous outburst.

Ash did not smile. "None actually- unlike some people in the room."

He looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"Heard an interesting conversation in the canteen. Something about 'like a rutting bull' and other revelations."

Russell's apparent good humour evaporated in an instant. "So? I never said I was a virgin. I needed a fuck. I had one. What's it to you?"

Ash threw her hands in the air. "To me? Nothing, mate. Just thought you were offering to scrub my back on Saturday..."

"That's a different story. We are something different," he growled out.

"We? There is no 'we', Crowe."

"Then why are you so racked off with me?" He had a point. If he were a free agent what was she so annoyed about?

 Ash ignored his comment. "Please tell me I am not trying to have a logical conversation with you."

"Ash," his voice was suddenly pleading, "Can we quit dancing around each other? I like you. I like you a lot. Friday was a blast. Sunday I had something on. Monday I buggered up my shoulder and spent the evening getting treatment. Tuesday, I got a bit from a willing partner. If you must know, I'd been thinking about you a lot and it turned me on. However, I'm not sure how to read you." He sat down on the edge of her desk. It occurred to Ash how bizarre was the sight of this burly Roman general replete in battle armour, covered in mud and fake blood, trying to chat her up. "You interested in me, or not? I don't mean as a fuck either. I mean as a man. If you're not, tell me now and I'll move on. I couldn't handle anything meaningless with you." He winced as he said it as though he had been hurt before and was already trying to build a wall to protect himself.

Her face fell at his words. She wasn't sure she could fully take in their significance. "Are you telling me you WANT a real relationship with me? Like two people committing to each other for a period of time? And then you tell me you were horny and had a shag and it's nothing to do with me? Is that likely to inspire confidence?"

He did not like her answer and tilted his chin arrogantly at her, his eyes glinting. He was sharpening his sword for a quick thrust here. "As far as I know, we aren't committed to anything yet. I tell the truth, Ash. I don't bullshit. If you say 'Yes, I'll give it a whirl, Russ,' then I'll be yours. I never screw around when I'm with someone- contrary to popular opinion."

"We don't know anything about each other."

"That's why we have a relationship, darlin'. To find out about each other. You don't meet a bloke and know about him straight away. Discovery- it's what love's about," he added tartly.

"Love? And what would you know about love?" She went on the attack already feeling swamped by the force of his personality, beginning to feel the pull of his will. It frightened her in the light of this persistent reputation of his that he was little more than a selfish Lothario who would sell a girl any line to get laid. "Actually there is something you need to know about me. I have a lover already. I've been in a relationship for four years with a successful, highly educated, cultured, sophisticated man. What are you offering me to compare with that?  Multiple orgasms and your big dick? Please, Russell- that's not what relationships are made of!"

He flinched at her words. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me that, you bitch? How did you explain Friday night to the boyfriend? And I never mentioned sex with you -I said love. Even I know the difference. Seems it's you who has the problem with fidelity, not me. You were up for it on Friday, love. But I wouldn't take it from you in that state. Perhaps I should have cut my losses and just had a fuck. At least it might have paid me for the time and  all the sleepless nights you've caused me." He stormed out of the room, banging the door so hard she thought it was going to fall off its hinges.

Well, that was that, it seemed. Two weeks later, she was well settled into the Morocco set and had drawn up a list of things not to do or say from now on. The list began with:

1. Do not speak to Russell Crowe except through a translator.

 Then it went on to:

2. Do not lecture people on their morals when you have none yourself.  

And then:

3. How dare you throw love back in a man's face when you haven't the first idea what it is yourself?

Everything Russell had said had been open and honest and she had run away from him. Even the girl he had laid had noticed that. He laid his cards down on the table and invited you to take a particular walk with him. And she had flung them back in his face for no real reason other she did not have the courage to deal with a man who was so clearly going to blow her mind and take control of her life. So now she was going to die wondering. What harm would it have done to have gone down the road with him awhile? Could it have been any worse than four years with Geoffrey?

Ash remembered too late one of the things he had admitted as a parting shot. It stayed with her for a very long time. 'All the sleepless nights you've caused me...' What keeps a man awake at night? A man like Russell Crowe who could pick up any woman he chose if all he required was a body to fuck? The answer to that question kept Ash awake herself night after night. He had meant what he had said. Russell had been offering her a chance at love.

It was a different experience on this set. For a start there was an open expansive quality to it under the limitless burning North African sky. There was also a larger, more diverse community, and it lacked the close matieness of the English location. Crowe was also different in this location. He was better humoured- perhaps it was the weather?-but also more distant from the crew. For the first time he seemed like a star and as the days progressed there was a rising anticipation that the film was becoming something quite special and at the core of it was the powerhouse called Russell Crowe whose performance seemed to grow with each scene completed.

Ash was overawed by him in action. There was such an emotional depth to his work. One moment he would be laughing and having a smoke and then he would become Maximus, a man so different from himself that you forgot that it was Crowe and you believed in this Stoic hero from another age and culture as if he was as familiar to you as your own brother. Somewhere in him was the emotional heart to effect that change and the realisation of what he had been trying to tell her made her ache with the missed opportunity of loving him. But it wasn't a missed opportunity, was it? She did love him - had done all along really - but now he would never know that.

One weekend, a few weeks into the shoot, Russell organised a barbecue for the cast and crew, determined to bring a more cohesive feel to the large army involved in the filming. Ash thought of giving it a miss but decided that was childish. She had to be grown up about it all, even if he were going to be there with some other woman. Not that there had been any signs of that. Rumours always abounded about his sexual excess but he seemed to be alone most of the time and completely caught up in the film making process. The pressure on him was mounting as it was clear that more and more of the production rested on his performance alone. The physical toll itself was relentless but it was more than that. He carried the weight of the production with just one look of his eyes or the way he would hold himself. Every bit of his soul was poured into his characterisation of Maximus.  But that's what he had tried to tell her. How could he have the strength for the kind of powerful virtuoso performance if he was spending every night playing? Maybe it was like an athlete before a big event; he was conserving his energy by his celibacy? Or was it method acting- Maximus wasn't getting any, so why should he?

On that Saturday morning when she woke, there was an envelope pushed underneath her door in the cheap hotel room allocated to technical staff. Opening it, she found an invitation. It was a printed one:

You are invited to a pre- barbecue cocktail in the suite of Mr. Russell Crowe...etc.,

Ash hadn't realised that there was to be a gathering before the evening barbie. Why had he invited her? Just politeness, she supposed. Showing that there was no hard feelings after all. It was like him to apologise once he had come down off his high horse. That it what he had done before. Thought about his behaviour and regretted it. Ash thought of declining his invitation but on consideration she decided not to. He had made the move and she would be big enough to reciprocate.

At six sharp, she rode the lift to his suite at the considerably more plush hotel that the main cast were housed in. Russell Crowe was in the penthouse suite; she was stopped by security and asked for her invitation. It was back in her room. A bodyguard asked her for her name and checked a list - then he nodded that she could enter.

He showed her in to a large room, which was empty, and she sat down nervously, twiddling her thumbs. It had said six. There was no one else here. Surely the others weren't all late?

The door to an inner room opened and Russell burst through, his hair still damp from a shower and his shirt unbuttoned. "Ash- you came? Well, I'm fucked!" He looked both surprised and pleased to see her, walking over and buttoning his shirt up as he came, much to Ash's dismay. His bronzed chest was a sight to see.

"Where are the rest of the guests?" she asked looking about her.

He stopped and bit his bottom lip. "There aren't any. Just you. I thought you wouldn't come unless I made it look like there were..." He gave her a sheepish grin.

"Why do you want to see me?" Ash was confused and not a little ill at ease.

Russell swallowed hard and blinked his eyes a few times; he looked nervous and was twiddling the cross around his neck with his fingers. It was almost a feminine gesture. Then he took a breath and said: "I just can't stop hoping that you might give me a second chance." He ran a hand through his short damp locks and sighed. "I watch you on the set some times. You're so pretty it hurts. Look, Ash...Aisling... I can go into a bar, a hotel, a disco- fucking anywhere and get wall-to-wall sex and I'm not interested. I'm tired of that. I'm lonely and I want to be with someone who cares about me because I'm me. Not because I'm Russell fucking Crowe or Bud fucking White or..."

"I get the idea," whispered Ash. She walked over to him, unsure where her courage came from, and stood before him "I've been an idiot and I know it. It's not me that should be giving you a second chance, Russell, but the other way round. I want to be your girl more than anything in the world although I know I don't deserve you."

That was that. Well, not quite. He stared as if he had been turned to stone by her declaration and then he picked her up and swung her round in his arms. He didn't seem to know what to do first for he had no sooner done this than he put her down, took her face in his hands and kissed her so sweetly on the mouth that it brought tears to her eyes. It wasn't the sort of kiss she had imagined. It was tender and apprehensive; she noticed that his hands were shaking slightly as he held her face in them. He seemed to be asking for permission rather than seducing her.

Pulling away, he sat her on a chair and drew another up to face her. "What about the boyfriend? He has to be out of the picture, love."

Ash exhaled deeply, still tasting his kiss and wishing she could have another. "I have been having an affair for four years with a professor from Oxford. He is old enough to be my father, married with four adult children. I see him when he can fit me in - which isn't often. He has been palming me off with the excuse that he will divorce his wife and marry me for years, but, as any fool (other than me) can see, there is about as much chance of that as you giving up smoking, drinking and swearing. He is no contest."

"Does he know?" Russell asked.

"I haven't spoken to him in the last five minutes- so no, how could he?"

"Ring him now. Break it off."

"Now?" He gave her a look which she knew brooked no opposition and so she found herself ringing Geoffrey's home number. His wife answered. Ash suddenly felt an urge to cause him hell and she thought to herself: 'What would Russell say in the circumstances?'

"Hi, is Geoffrey there?"

"Who is calling?" answered the cut glass tones of Mrs. Frobisher.

"Aisling Connor. Your husband's mistress." Russell caught on straight away and mimed slashing someone's head off with a sword, a big grin on his face. Moments later, an enraged Geoffrey took the phone.

"You little bitch..."

"Shut the fuck up and listen. It's over. Simple as that." Ash hung up and turned back to a broadly grinning Russell. "That do?"

They went separately to the barbecue. Russell said that no one was to get wind of what was going on. It was a riotous night and they ended up in the same general group as each other but no one would have guessed that there was anything between them. Ash realised that he was good at dissimulation; had probably been doing nothing else for years. Few people would be able to get an inkling of what was in his mind no matter how matey or drunk he seemed to be. About 11.30, Russell brought her a drink over and whispered: "Car outside - wait there. I'll be out in a minute." It was that simple. Ten minutes later, they were driving down the road and away.

"Where are we going?" Ash asked, really meaning 'your place or mine?' because she reckoned she knew what was coming.

"Somewhere we can talk," he replied. They drove out of the town to the hills and parked up. Sitting in the car, he asked her to tell him about herself and she did, finding herself, as a result of his promptings, revealing things she had never told another living soul and yet it seemed completely natural. She spoke of losing her virginity in sixth form to a student who had actually raped her because she had said no but he had told her she had to because she had led him on. It had resulted in an abortion and had made her very reluctant for ages to commit herself to another sexual relationship; she still had nightmares at what she had done to her unborn child. Only one person knew about that, a close friend at home who had accompanied her to the clinic; now there were two.

She described her relationships- two longish and four fairly intense but short lived ones. Then there was Geoffrey and an Italian guy with whom she had had a wild fling when she spent six months at the British school in Rome, and numerous (far more than she actually admitted to him) one night stands. Ash went on to speak of her career and what she wanted from it; her family and friends; her ambitions and fears. Throughout it all he listened, questioned her and seemed to find the fairly routine and tawdry details of her life fascinating. That's exactly what he said 'everyone's life is fascinating if it's not yours.' It was a strange but revealing comment.

Finally she stopped and turned to him. Ash thought he might be reluctant to say too much- he wouldn't want to reveal things that might one day inadvertently end up in a gossip column. No such thing. He briefly summarised his career- saying 'Look it up- I've forgotten most of it and the 'net has it all. I sometimes do just to remind myself' but he lingered on more personal details, like his family and friends. They were so important to him and he seemed fiercely protective of anyone whom he brought under his wing.

On the subject of women he was even more honest. Lost his virginity at fourteen to a woman of forty who had picked him up in a pub; he'd come in his pants in her car when she rubbed his crotch but she had stuck around long enough to give him a few pointers. Then there had been years of mindless fucking; but the old girl (as he called his first lay) had stressed one thing and he had never forgotten it. She told him never to do it without a hat - he had thought the smell of burning rubber was part of the sex act until he was in his mid twenties. Good job really - he'd be dead or buried under maintenance payments if he hadn't by now.

Then he had fallen in love and that had floored him. There had been a few imagined romances before but the real thing was different and they had been together for four years. He thought it would be forever. He had longed for marriage and babies but she had resisted, saying there would be time for that in the future. When the crunch came, and he got his big break, he made her a proposal he thought she would not be able to resist- 'Marry me and come with me. Share the ride. Everything I have is yours.' She told him he was a fool, would never make it, ought to settle for what he had, was too arrogant for his own good, what about my life? It had gone on and on until he had walked out and slammed the door and he never even went back for his clothes. As far as he knew she had them still.

Since then? One semi-serious relationship and a lot of short affairs. More one night stands than he could remember- not to mention the hookers. At the moment, no one special-a few girls he could call for a bit of fun if they were free- no strings, just plain honest-to-goodness sex.

He loved music and had a band. They were his best mates and his lifeline to the person he used to be- still was somewhere- but he didn't know how long he could hold the disparate elements of his life together. He wanted to be on his farm with his family; then he wanted to be on the road with his mates; then he wanted to be making movies that counted- to be acknowledged as the world's greatest living actor (which he was, so he claimed) but most of all he wanted to be a husband and father and build a world of his own in which he could be free.

And then he suddenly snapped out of his introspective, confessional mode and pulled her out of the car and they stood leaning on the bonnet and snogged like kids at the back of the school toilets. He loved to kiss and be kissed and although his kisses were more passionate now than before, he seemed to show no inclination to move on to something more intimate. His hands touched her face and hair, running down her neck and back, but he did not invade her sexually and she responded in similar fashion. Somehow he wanted to take it slow and, in a way, so did she.

His body, however, had different ideas and she could not help but feel his erection straining against her. After a while he broke off and turned away, surreptitiously adjusting himself before he sat back in the driver's seat.  He caught her look and blushed. "Biologically embarrassed, love. Better leave off for a while. Don't want to come in m'pants at my age!" His sudden bashfulness was at odds with his usual foulmouthed crudeness and then Ash realised that Russell hadn't used one single swear word since his declaration earlier in the day. And that was to be the way of things from then. Despite what he said to others, he never swore at her or directed a profanity towards her (other than in jest) ever again. Even crude innuendo disappeared from his conversation and the only times he used such expressions were when they were in the throes of passion. But that came later- much later, as it transpired.

Russell drove her back to her hotel and walked her to the main entrance. Ash was still confused as to where this was all going. At the door, he stopped and moved very close, smoothing down her hair and looking at her, his head on one side. Then he kissed her. Deeply, passionately, long and hard, bruising her lips and chafing her face with his beard. Her knees began to buckle as her desire for him flooded through her; she had not known a kiss could make one feel this way. It was as if her g-spot was somewhere on her lips.

He broke away and pulled her to him, whispering in her ear. "That's how much I want you- but not yet. This is only just beginning and I don't want us to confuse what we feel with sex. When we understand where we're going, then we'll have sex. Great sex. Amazing sex. I'll make your world turn on its axis. I promise." And he rubbed her cheek and left her standing on the hotel steps, shaking, eyes full of tears and with rather wet knickers. Too many conflicting emotions- would she ever work him out?

For the rest of the filming, in Morocco and later Malta, their relationship deepened but stayed quite chaste. Well, there was a little bit of fooling around but, to be quite honest, Ash realised that she was being courted. What an archaic but incredibly exciting notion. But he was right about it. This put the way they felt on another plateau from any relationship either of them had ever had. Ash even began to imagine that she was a virgin again; at least, in terms of him she was. She wondered how he was dealing with it. Perhaps he was having an occasional shag with a willing partner or even sending out for a call girl - or just very well acquainted with his right hand these days (he claimed to be ambidextrous so I suppose that gave him variety.) - whatever, Ash didn't care. His heart was what she was after and although her body ached for him so badly that she felt sick sometimes, she knew it was going to happen soon and was prepared to wait.

The benefit of their behaviour was that, although it was generally acknowledged that they were 'mates' and Ash was included in most social gatherings with him, no one seemed to guess that there was something more. It simply never occurred to anyone that Crowe could be 'with' a woman and not sleeping with her- the best disguise in the world. As Ash became more confident she raised the issue with him, feeling a little awkward to be spoiling the romance of being with him to talk about sex. But as usual, he just answered, straight and honest.

"Not here. Someone would find out. I don't want anyone to talk of you as if you were just putting out. But I can't hold out much longer. If I could, I'd like to marry you first. Do it right. Leave it until the wedding night. But the rest of this year is going to be crazy and next year even worse. I haven't time to do it properly and I won't get married until I can. Let's wait until we get back to UK. Off the set- no one knows me and we can just spend a few weeks in bed." Just like that.

"Russell? Have you just proposed to me?" Ash stared at him. They were sitting on the floor, having a cold drink between takes, he in full costume and she supposedly discussing the finer points of slavery.

He flashed her a smile. "Naw. What gave you that idea? But when I do- you'll know!" And he stood up and strolled off. Sometimes he still made her want to slap him with his arrogance. 'God, I love that guy!'

Eventually the location work was nearing completion. As they moved towards the climactic final fight sequence, there was a real buzz of anticipation amongst the cast and extras. Ash knew that Russell was nervous and jumpy; he could cope with all the action stuff with his eyes closed but he had to feel that the crowd were with him and the atmosphere was right- everything on that enormous production was being held together by his presence. She began to understand why he became difficult and brash at times. It was when he was most insecure. But once the cameras started to roll, a calm came over him and he slipped seamlessly into the role- the adrenalin seemed to facilitate that.

Of course there had been some spectacular outbursts-the best one being over the famous 'I am Gladiator' lines. He admitted later that he had felt foolish saying them. Ash had replied 'foolish when you've been walking round in a dress for months?'- and he had tried every trick he had to bulldoze and intimidate them into changing the script - but for once no one was budging. Suddenly he capitulated, but did his best to underplay them, hoping that in the rushes they wouldn't work and he would get his own way. Nice to see how wrong he can be at times. He spat those words out in that low grunt, almost panting with emotion and, of course, it became one of the great movie moments of all time. Even Mr. Know-All loved it when he heard it, of course making out it had all been staged for their benefit and he had known all along that he could even make shite sound good. Pity that the media seem to think he was serious when he said it, not blushing with embarrassment - but that was always the way of it. No one ever got him.

One rather special time was when some of the male members of his family suddenly showed up on their way to the Test Match in England. They were co-opted as extras and were the most unruly group in the audience, giving Russell constant stick about his skirt, his legs and almost every thing he did. Must have been like being at school when a lad has to get up and sing a solo in front of his mates. But he didn't back off- if anything he rose to the challenge and was even more mean and magnificent than ever. They still called him 'Lovey' and 'Poofta' and 'Sexy Legs' all evening after though.

Russell had introduced Ash to the group in a bar that night. Apart from the family, she was the only one included and she knew that Russell's casual, "Meet a mate of mine, Ash. She can nearly drink me under the table," was a clear indication of much more- but they made her welcome and there were no uncomfortable assumptions. Russ admitted, however, that his mother was on the phone about a half an hour after he had got back to his room -so somebody had squealed. But he only laughed when Ash asked him what she had said.  'Just wait until you meet my Mum!'- was all he would say.

They returned to UK for the final weeks of studio work. It was nine-to-five stuff, office hours and, although Russell was based in a hotel in London, he actually moved into her flat in Essex. Molly and the boyfriend were in their house by now; so Russell and Ash had somewhere private and could be alone.

Ash felt the rising anticipation that finally they would be ... what exactly? They were already in love- she needed no confirmation of that. Alone he poured his heart out- in words, poems, songs, kisses and even long silences when they just held each other and did not speak, aware that there weren't any words to explain what they were feeling. Perhaps that was what lovemaking was going to be able to do- be a physical demonstration of their love, not a physical need that had to be relieved. In that sense it was going to be a first for both of them.

They dumped their bags in the hall and he went straight for the fridge. "No food. No booze. Let's go to shopping." And they did. Half an hour later they were in the aisles of the local Sainsbury's pushing along a trolley, Russell riding it like a scooter. He was in a silly mood; Ash knew him well enough to know that he was nervous too. Had his trip to the supermarket been a diversion? Was he just as unsure now that the time had come? How bizarre. Of course, Ash knew she wouldn't see Shy Russell at moments like this- he would be Show off Russell. And that's what she got.

By now, Ash was used to the way women made a double take when he walked past (and this was long before anyone had a clue who he was). He loves it and milks it for all it's worth, winking and grinning, chatting up old ladies, sweet-talking babies and children so their mothers are eating out of his hands. "Russell, we're still in the vegetable department. They'll have closed the store before we finish if you don't cut it out." Ash tried to steer him away.

"You want to do what to me? With a courgette?" Not a single person in the vegetable section failed to hear his booming exclamation. Dozens of eyes turned to Ash and she nearly died of embarrassment. "I will fucking kill you, Crowe," she muttered as she pushed the trolley to the next aisle. He was following, highly amused at his outburst. If she thought he was finished, she was wrong.  As they stood at the Deli, waiting for their number to come up, he launched into a discussion, in a muted undertone, but one that somehow managed to carry, about how much did she charge by the hour, or whether it was cheaper in the long run if he paid her for the whole night, and would that include a blow job?  "Can you do me a discount if I make you come?" was his parting shot. The girl behind the counter almost sliced her finger off at that one. Ash stormed off, but her shoulders were shaking. He was just unstoppable in this mood.

But he was also shopping for food. He kept throwing heaps of stuff into the trolley. "Are you planning on a siege or something, Russ?"

"Sex makes me hungry. Anyway we're not going out for days. We might starve."

"Sex makes you hungry? You're always hungry- even when you're not getting any."

"Sex makes me even hungrier. You just watch, love. I expend more energy than most."

"Why? Do you do something different from other men?" Ash knew she shouldn't have said it the moment the words came out of her mouth. He proceeded to tell her as they pushed their trolley down the aisles and filled up with food, how much stamina he had, and how long he could keep it up for, and what were the record number of erections he had had in one night and even that once - when he had had to sleep in a tent with his girlfriend and his niece and the little girl had been up all night with a bad cough (it was a long story)- he'd had an erection for eight hours. He had thought he would pass out from the blood loss.

"Russell- I really don't need to hear this in the middle of Sainsbury's!" Ash pleaded but she should have known not to object; it always egged him on. The final humiliation came in the pharmacy. His eye alighted on the condoms and he launched into a dialogue with himself about whether they should have ribbed or smooth, no need to get flavoured because they had already bought the chocolate, the ice cream and strawberry sauce, and would a box of 24 be enough for tonight? No, better get 24 of each, just in case. But would they be big enough? In New Zealand they made them in bigger sizes- he had to have them flown in usually.

"OK, you win. I'll never ask you to go to the supermarket again. Is that your game? But if you say one more thing, the chances of you getting into my pants in the next millennium are fading fast. So what's it to be. Fun and games in Sainsbury's at my expense or fun and games at home for free?"

He conceded and was extremely well behaved at the wine section; but then buying booze is a serious topic to him. Ash was glad she wasn't footing the bill when it came to the total. It was a good job they paid him well if this was what his weekly food bill came to. As they packed their shopping and he flirted with the cashier, he almost forgot his promise. He picked up the box of twenty four and smiled sweetly to the old lady running them through saying, "Could I just ask your opinion on..."

Ash kneed him in the butt and broke in, "He wants to know whether you recommend the Welsh lamb. You see he's from New Zealand..." Russell giggled but listened politely to her views on the excellence of the Welsh and her cooking suggestion for the lamb. Ash breathed a sigh of relief. He was going to behave and she wasn't going to have to lock him out of her bedroom as she had threatened - because that would have killed her.

Ash gave him a tongue-lashing in the car about his outrageous behaviour in the store and how he had to realise that people might have known her and it was embarrassing. He put on his most charming and chastened face and let her rant. At home he meekly carried in the shopping as she stowed it away and then he stood in the kitchen, drinking a beer, in a rather pensive mood. She realised that this was the calm before the storm; there seemed to be something building between them and it wouldn't take much to set it off.

"I need a shower, Russ. I've been in these clothes all day. Give me half an hour." Ash wondered if he would come up, but he didn't. She showered and washed her hair, observing her naked body in the mirror as she dried herself. 'This is the last time you will feel like this. The next time you are naked it will be in his arms and you will never be the same again.' Drying her hair, she applied a touch of makeup and his favourite perfume, the one that always made him sigh when he nuzzled against her. 

It's funny how you notice more when you are not ripping each other's clothes off. Even little things become erotic: his fingers tracing a path along her face, his hand squeezing hers when no one else could see, his warm musky scent, the way his hair curled around his ear, his steady heartbeat as she lay on his chest, the back of his neck (that just drove her wild), the deep timbre of his voice when husky with passion... Ash could think of thousands of things about him that drove her wild with desire- and that was with his clothes on.

What would he look like naked? What would he feel like? She had seen him in a loincloth, she had stroked his groin when they had kissed. Any one who had seen him in a tight pair of jeans could assess that he was not a small man in anyway- but that was not the same. Would he like her body? He had had so many beautiful women- surely she would be a disappointment? Ash looked at herself objectively. She was an attractive girl, she knew that: tall and slender, surprisingly large breasts for her frame, narrow waist, flat belly, good legs. She wished her bum was less curvaceous; skirts never hung quite straight around her pert bottom but she knew men generally liked a shapely arse. She hoped he did. Her hair was long and dark brown with a heavy fringe. It was probably time she got a more grown up style; this made her look like a schoolgirl. Her skin was fair and a little freckly. She knew what he thought of her hair, her grey-blue eyes, her nose and mouth, he often murmured over them as he kissed her, his long lashes lowered and his lips caressing her ears. But the rest of her?  She would simply have to see.

Slipping into a pair of loose soft navy pants and a white vest top; deciding against sexy underwear and provocative clothes, opting instead for no underwear and simplicity, she padded to the lounge to find him watching the news on TV. He smiled at her when she walked into the room, his eyes appraising her openly, an intense depth in his expression that she had not seen before.

"My turn," he said and stood up, capturing her in his arms and kissing her, his hands slowly, sliding down her, tracing the outline of her figure and resting at the small of her back to pull her closer. "Give me ten minutes. I want to smell as good as you," and he broke off and went into the bathroom.

Ash sat down, then stood up, then went to the kitchen, then came back to the lounge, then poured herself a stiff Scotch. Two minutes had passed. It was like waiting for Christmas when you were a kid. No- it was much worse than that. Her stomach was jumping - butterflies? More like Hitchcock's 'The Birds'! Suddenly she thought she was going to throw up. She had always done that when she was a kid. If she was really excited about something she generally vomited; once she had done it on stage in a school show when she had been about to speak. 'Please God, don't let me be sick now!' she begged. Would God be with her on this one? She was not sure he would approve of what she was about to do.

Then the phone rang. Ash stared at it in horror but she knew she couldn't ignore it. It might be important or it might be nothing- but she was a woman- you just have to know, don't you? Even when Russell Crowe is naked in your shower and is about to fuck you senseless.

"Darling, you're back!" It was Mum. Well it had to be, hadn't it? "Dad and I were thinking of driving down tomorrow to see you. We missed your birthday and everyone has left presents.  Mairead said she and Paul would pop over from Solihull if you felt up to it. We could have Sunday lunch in that lovely country pub that you took us to last time. We're dying to hear about this film set. Did you really meet Richard Harris? What about Oliver Reed's death- he was such a heavy drinker wasn't he- but he was brilliant in Oliver..." on and on she went and Ash just stood there, open-mouthed. Get out of this one. Mum, Dad, the dog, her eldest sister Mairead, Paul, her husband, and three children under six. Please God - spare me. I promise that, apart from sins of the flesh, I will never break another commandment again!

"Mum, I'm not up to it. It's been really hectic and ... I've picked up a stomach bug- er- I'm going to spend the weekend in bed. We've still got some work on the interior scenes to do in the next few weeks, so I need to get over this. Can we do it some other time?" 

"Let me come down and look after you for a few days. I bet you've not been eating properly. Just me and your Dad then, darling."

"NO, Mum. I'm a grown girl! I just want to be left alone for the weekend, please!"

Russell chose that moment to come into the lounge, singing some stupid old pop song as he dried his hair on a towel. 

"Who's that?" her mother's ears were keener than a bat's.

"It's the radio, Mum," she replied, mouthing 'Shut up!' He obliged for once.

"That's not a radio. You've got a fella there. What's going on? He's not staying the night, is he?" Ash's mother was a devout Irish Catholic; she had been pretending for years that her daughter was an innocent virgin although Ash was sure she wasn't that stupid. But there was never going to be an open acknowledgement of it.

"Mum. There's no one here but me and the radio. You know the nuns at school made me take a vow of celibacy. I still never sit on a boy's knee unless there's a telephone directory between my bum and his groin. I'll see you soon. And don't pop in unannounced, I'm warning you!"

She put the phone down and put her head in her hands. "Oh God! My bloody mother! She's got some sort of radar that can detect a naked male within a mile of me."

Russell laughed and sat down on the settee next to her. "Sorry, I didn't realise. Did she believe you?'

Ash was surprised. "Sorry? Didn't imagine it would bother you."

"What? That your mother might be upset? 'Course it bothers me. I don't advertise my sex life to my mother either. I mean - I'm a bloke. She knows I have sex but I wouldn't embarrass her. If I bring a girl home, we observe the niceties when we are in public. Actually, I've not brought that many girls home. Tend to be celibate most of the time myself when I'm on the farm.  There are plenty of cows, if a bloke gets desperate!" Ash hit him.

"Seriously. You're her daughter. If it were my daughter, I'd be on the M6 now with my shotgun, ready to blast this bloke's fucking balls off. She doesn't know who I am. If she did, she'd like it even less, no doubt. If you want me to go until after you've seen them..."

"No way! Are you trying to back out of this, Crowe? 'Cos every time we get near to it, you find an excuse. Now, you either take me to bed this very minute and make a woman of me or I'm going to kick your sorry arse out of the door!" In retrospect Mum's call was the icebreaker they needed. Russell just laughed and picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom without a word and kicking the door open. It felt like a scene from Gone with the Wind. He certainly knew how to strike a pose.