CASSIE

Lachlan and I have been in seventh heaven since our reconciliation. I listened to his advice and we took things slow. We dated, or perhaps I should say courted, for a few weeks and it was wonderful, even if the sexual tension growing between us was rising to a fever pitch.

But it was a good tension. Dragging ourselves apart from frantic embraces in his car when he brought me home at nights.  Long drawn out goodbye kisses on the doorstep until we were both frozen solid, yet our hearts were racing and our blood heaty. Staring into each other's eyes meaningfully over dinner, out dancing locked together all night, at a movie when we barely even knew the name of the feature.

It became a sort of glorious pain, like some torture enjoyed by a masochist to force ourselves to endure this test of our commitment to each other. I love you enough not to have sex with you. I want to spend my time discovering the other parts of you.

Until you realize, that it isn't actually working. Your desire is simply clouding every other factor about your lover and your feelings for him or her. Then you know it is time to get the sex out of the way and return to living life.

I think we were both unsure exactly how to break the deadlock and move our now chaste, but divinely romantic, love affair onto a more earthy level. Lachlan was trying to tough it out and I was worried that if I made a pass then he might be annoyed that Cassie the goodtime girl was back. And that was the last thing I wanted him to recall.

In the end it was a combination of nature, coincidence and good old fashioned lust that won the day. Lachlan had called round one Saturday lunchtime and we had gone for a walk in the park. An unexpected rain shower caught us on the hop, we ran full pelt back home, got drenched and then burst in, dripping wet.

I slipped out of my jacket, ran through to my room and stripped, putting on a house coat. I was just about to bring Lachlan a towel when he appeared at the door of my bedroom, leaning on the frame and watching me. His cheery grin was gone, replaced by a steamy expression as he slowly raked his eyes down the thin material of the robe that clung to my damp body. I saw his eyes blink rapidly, water trickling unnoticed down his nose from the wet curl of his fringe. His shirt was plastered to his chest and his pants hung limply on his narrow hips, exaggerating the bulge of his genitals. Or was he hard just looking at me?

I stood there, saying nothing. He leaned there, saying nothing. Until:

"Take it off..." his voice was gruff and low.

I fumbled with the tie front of my dressing gown and let it go, dropping it from my shoulders to slither slowly to the floor until I was standing before him quite naked. I shivered a little, still damp and chilled, and also trembling before his direct gaze.

"I want you..." he muttered. I nodded, uncertain what to do, not quite used to Lachlan in this mood, silent and marauding. He began to advance on me, stripping off his shirt roughly and dropping his wet pants and shorts. His feet were already bare. He must have had the idea to do this when he had been waiting for me in the lounge.

Naked we stood facing each other. He took my hand and circled it round his erect cock, moaning softly. I squeezed and he moaned again. Then he pulled me against him and kissed me - and we simply went wild. The next few minutes were a frantic blur of passion as he walked us back to the bed, me still dragging on his cock, and then we fell to the soft mattress where he crawled over me and kissed me until our lips were sore.

I was so wet that when he tried to enter me, his penis missed, slipping on the thick creamy slide of my arousal. He groaned and rubbed himself all over in the wetness before begging me to help him. I think he was too excited even to find what he was looking for. I steered him in to find the opening and he thrust down hard. So deep, so hard. I felt him pull my leg around his waist but it was still not enough for him. He took one leg over his shoulder and the other he pushed round his waist. It felt like he wanted to climb inside me. The sex was relentless as he pounded over and over again, muttering inanely while I screamed and scrabbled and begged him for more, coming over and over again but it was still not enough.

When he was ready he let my leg go and fell above me, wanting to kiss me as he came. "Cass...Christ, girl...I want you so much....I want you so much..." he gasped out as he stiffened and then shuddered into me, crying out as if in pain. I held him and silent tears of relief, both sexual and emotional ran down my cheeks. It had been so very long. And all this time, I had dreamed only of him.

"I love you, Lachlan. I never stopped loving you. But sometimes, love isn't enough..."

He sighed against my breast as he lay there nuzzling. "And sometimes it is..." he replied, raising his head to smile at me, his thumbs gently playing with my nipples. "I've had enough of losing love. This time it's going to work...I swear it," he vowed.

I wanted that more than anything in the world. I honestly did. Without him I had simply been a mess, an empty shell, a complete failure at life.

But I got one thing right.

Some times love just ain't enough.

LACHLAN

I still think she's the prettiest girl in the world. It's pretty funny really. Cass is this modern girl with a body straight out of my day. She's not a big girl, don't get me wrong, but she has curves where girls today have tiny flat bellies and little girlish breasts. Cass moans something rotten about her body, constantly trying to eat less and exercise and worrying how her bum looks in this or that. I think her bum looks bloody great in everything. It's a real bum. One a man can get hold of, squeeze, push against and wallow in. Like her breasts, large and firm, ripe brown nipples that swell up like little plums when I suck them. Or her belly, slender but soft, a little cushion of flesh, enough to accentuate her small waist and give her that curvy hour glass shape that says to a man that this body is warm and inviting, soft and luscious.

Her hair is thick and golden, her eyes are large and round, her lips are full and juicy. Everything about her makes me simply want to pick her up and keep her safe forever. But when I see her naked, the golden tuft of hair between her legs and those smooth thighs parting to let me inside...I swear I almost lose what little wits I have left. She makes me feel like I'm in paradise and that I could lie there between her legs forever. I know I'm given to sentimental nonsense and I'm a fool for love when it is given to me, but I swear I have never had it so bad before.

So what's a bloke to do? If you love a girl that much then there's only one cure for it. You marry her. You fill her with your babies. You take care of her all your life and think yourself a lucky bastard for the day she walked across your path - and even more that she'd want to spend her life with a fella like you.

Ah, but there's the rub, as Shakespeare himself once said. I think. 

Because Cassie doesn't want to spend her life with me. Marriage is not in her plans. And babies? Well, she just doesn't seem to have a maternal instinct. Or so she says. What is this bullshit girls talk these days? Don't want to be married or have babies? What happened to nature? That only left to us boys? Have women somehow managed to avoid the tender trap and now have no need for the forces that drive our very natures?

I think it's unnatural and that one day they will all regret that they rejected the call of their sex. 

I look around me and see friends who are settling happily into coupledom. Some plan marriage. Some are simply living together with their babies. I can accept that. I'm not sure that the piece of paper ever meant much anyway if the hearts weren't in the right place. I, however, want the piece of paper. I want the bride in her white dress walking down the aisle in a country church with all the people I care about watching. I want the traditional send off, the honeymoon, the wedding night, the carrying over the threshold. I want to throw away the contraceptives and let nature take its course and seed her womb as God intended a man to do to the woman he loves.

Somehow that makes me the bad guy in all this. The one who seeks to deprive her of her freedom. To make decisions for her. To push her into something that will limit her. To stop her chance at a decent career. To tie her to a kitchen sink.

I thought love would set us free together. That it meant we were partners who shared it all, the good and bad. I believed it meant both of us making sacrifices for something finer than our selfish desires. I never meant to make her life less rich - the very opposite was what was on my mind.

Why can she not see it from where I'm standing?

Probably because I cannot see it from where she is.

The odd thing is, we both love each other. I genuinely believe this to be true. Even as I walk away - this time most definitely for good - I know that this was love. But sometimes, love isn't enough. You would think I had learnt that lesson by now, wouldn't you?

CASSIE

He kept bringing the subject into the conversation. It wasn't difficult at the moment as the pub was undergoing a rash of weddings and pregnancies. It seemed to me, as one couple after another announced their forthcoming happy events, that I would be the only one holding out for independent womanhood and the right to be childless. I could see a time, not far down the line, when the pub changed into one giant crèche and we were knee deep in ankle biters and dirty nappies.

Don't misunderstand me. I don't dislike children. I would imagine that one day I will have a few of my own. But not for ages. I'm twenty six, for God's sake, and have at least another eight years before I want to think about marriage, let alone breeding.

But it was hard not to talk about it. Marie, who's much younger than I am, was planning this simply beautiful wedding. I adore going to weddings and am as likely to cry as everyone else. I love to look at the lovely dresses and the clothes and talk about it all but I simply don't get that envious 'wish it was me' feeling. I am quite content as just a guest at the festivities.

Lachlan, however, took every opportunity to bring the subject round to marriage, dropping such enormous hints that it was laughable. In the end I told him that he should either shut up about it or get down and spit it out - but that he wouldn't like my answer. That was not a very nice way to reject him. But I had simply got myself at the end of my tether and, as often happens on such occasions, it all came out wrong.

He was pretty reasonable about my outburst though. I apologized, he said "No worries... we'll forget it for now..." in typically Aussie laconic fashion and changed the subject. But I didn't for one minute think he really forgot it or was easy about how his near-proposal had been thrown back at him.

We ticked on for a couple of days as if nothing much had happened. I was busy at work, he was away on a few all-nighters and we didn't really see much of each other, so when he was back, after he had slept half the day sprawled out in my bed, we decided to go and spend a few hours at the pub to tire him out again so that he might be able to sleep through the night. He always swears by a few pints to combat jetlag.

It was Steve's birthday. There was the usual drinks all round, gorgeous cake and presents distributed. We'd forgotten and had nothing to give him, so Lachlan went off to buy him a bottle of good Californian Red and I was left sitting at the bar. The awkward thing was, Steve and I don't speak. Well, Steve has tried to a few times but ever since that pretty sordid night we spent together way back in early January, I have been pretty cold with him. It wasn't very nice of me but he had seemed interested and I just hadn't been. So in my usual ham-fisted way, I had simply ignored him as being the easiest way to give him the message. Not very courageous of me, I know, but who amongst us hasn't done that if we wanted to turn a bloke off?

But it was now three months later. He was dating some nurse called Mandy, nice enough girl I suppose, but she didn't exactly seem right for Steve in my estimation, and I was, of course, deeply involved with Lachlan. It seemed a good time for me to bury the hatchet and start being civilised again to Steve. I mean, it wasn't as though I didn't like him. He's a great guy - witty, acerbic, intelligent, hip, attractive - very attractive- and damn sexy. As I knew. He had been amazing in bed.

So, I swallowed down my embarrassment and moved over to where he was sitting with a few of the others. They had been admiring the picture that he took of Scarlet's watermelon belly. It was really beautiful and a lot of fun. The others clucked round him awhile and then slowly drifted off until it was just the two of us sitting on stools.

"Happy Birthday, Stevie! Any of that cake going spare? A birthday kiss coming your way..." I tried for big cheesy grin; he gave me an unconvinced look. I blushed and reached over, pecking him sedately on his cheek. "Maybe it's time we started talking again...?" I whispered.

Steve looked wryly at me. "You're the one who wouldn't talk, baby. Up to you."

I nodded, embarrassed. He was not making it easier for me. But then, why should he? I had made him feel like so many other guys had made me feel in the past. Like a mistake.

"I'm sorry, Steve. It was a bad time for me. I wasn't thinking straight. I acted really shabbily."

He smiled then and nudged my arm. "Been there. Got the ticket. It's okay. I saw what was going on. Pleased you got your man back at last. But a guy doesn't like feeling used any more than a woman does, y'know?"

Steve was bang on to rights there. I had this odd little light bulb moment as we sat there talking casually. He might be a bit of an idiot at times but you couldn't really call Steve a chauvinist. He is in touch with his feminine side- sometimes a little bit too much, eh?- although he's also pretty macho. But, he doesn't have any of that stupid hypocrisy about men and women and sex. He's a modern guy. Sex happens. No judgemental attitudes. And he isn't a user.

We looked through the recent pictures of Scarlet. He is actually a really great photographer. I told him that my magazine would snap up something like that. He said Scarlet didn't mind if we sold them as they didn't show her face and a UK glossy would be perfect. I replied I'd take a few into the office if he got me a folder together and then show them to the art department to see what they might use them for.

"You're really very talented, you know-" I observed as we leafed through the pack. "Hey, you never showed me those pictures you took of me that time. I bet you even made me look good!" I grinned.

He looked at me a little thoughtfully, reaching out and fingering a lock of my hair. I wondered if he was seeing me in a professional sense - or remembering more intimate moments. "You'd look good in any photograph. Believe me." Then he snapped out of it and gave me a warm, rather businesslike smile. "I'll look them out and pass them over when I get a few ready for the magazine. Thanks for this, Cass. Appreciate it. Look, Mandy just walked in-excuse me?"

She wasn't the only one entering. Lachlan was holding the door open for Mandy. He met Steve as he walked over, gave him the bottle and slapped him on the back. Then he joined me.

"What were you and Steve talking about? I didn't know you knew him that well..."

I shrugged, blushing slightly as though I had something to hide. What am I talking about? I did have something to hide. "Wishing him Happy Birthday. Looking at some shots he took of Scarlet. Everyone was raving about them. Just chatting. Being sociable. You want to hang around much longer? We've not spent much time together recently- Let's go home and, you know? Have an early night?"

I gave him the eye over my wineglass and he cocked his head to one side, Steve forgotten, as his eyes gleamed with erotic promise. "I was just about to suggest the very thing, gorgeous. Drink up and let's shoot through, hey?"

We strolled home through the cool spring night, hand in hand. Lachlan was in a romantic mood and kept pulling me close and nuzzling up to me or kissing me passionately under the street lights. He is so adorable when he is in this mood, stoking himself up but always in such a sweet and loving way. He might be an ardent and inventive lover in bed but he is a sentimental dreamer outside of it and makes a girl feel so special.

Once home, we quickly shed our clothes along with our inhibitions and we fell into bed, kissing and stroking each other urgently. Lachlan was eager- it had been almost a week- and we didn't waste much time on foreplay that night. Passions were running high. But he never rushes even then and took his time with his usual, "Ladies first!" comment before holding me tight and searching for his own release. We ended up with me on top and he leaning against the bed head, his hands firm on my buttocks as he thrust up into me and I writhed on him. It was divine. I love to watch him as he comes, his body flexed and strong, biting his bottom lip or licking his lips sensuously as he tries not to cry out - but always does. And the way he lunges forward to kiss me as he empties inside. He craves the contact. He loves the touch. He is such an intense and sensual man beneath his devil-may-care manner.

I caved in on top of him, panting and moaning. He held me close, kissing my head and stroking back the long tangled hair. "I love you so much, Cass... Don't simply dismiss what I said about marriage. It doesn't have to mean little ones right away. It doesn't have to interrupt your career-"

"WHAT?" I exclaimed and pulled away. "Good God, Lachlan! You said you would give it a rest-."

The beautiful moment in his arms was shattered by his comment. I couldn't believe that he would use that intimacy when my guard was down to start all over again. Needless to say, we ended up snapping off the bedside lights and rolling ourselves up in the covers, backs turned, he angry, me tearful.

The next morning he was subdued. I tried to apologise, he raised his hand, said it had been his fault, that he'd just been carried away by the moment, etc., etc. We kissed and made up over breakfast but there was still an air of something unsettled between us as if things had been merely sidestepped rather than solved. I dashed off to work much to his annoyance as it was Saturday, leaving him undressed and smoking in the kitchen, swarthy and still in his shorts. I wished I could have stayed with him. He looked a little lost but there was an important launch at the magazine next week. My editor had called us in on the weekend as sometimes happens when there's a rush job. It was impossible for me simply to ring in sick. In my business, you drag yourself in with the bubonic plague or someone else jumps into your place in five minutes. .

It was late when I got back. Lachlan wasn't about so I took a shower and made a sandwich, expecting a quiet night. We don't live together and he isn't there every night anyway. His job is very demanding and he gets called off at all hours if someone needs a relief pilot; working for a small charter company is far less structured than a major airline in terms of regular hours.

I was just settling down with a book when the phone rang.

"Fancy a last drink? It's Saturday night. We should be out dancing. Sorry about this morning. Meet me at the pub? I'm just leaving the field now-"

Just hearing his voice made me smile. I was dressed in jeans and a shirt with a touch of makeup in no time - and called a cab.  My Lachlan would be driving me home.

It was heaving that night in the pub, pretty standard for a weekend. Everyone was there and the bar staff were run off their feet. Paul, Andy and Jeff, also lending a hand tonight, were having a fine old time serving drinks, throwing out one-liners and running back at intervals to put the finishing touches to Arthur who had undergone the Queer Eye for the Straight Guy treatment (Andy better be careful or we'll start to wonder!)

Uma, Heather and Angharad alternated between whining at the men for leaving them to do the work and giggling together in anticipation at the finished product when Arthur finally got the nerve to give us a twirl. That snooty Michelle was in tonight with Chili, looking down her nose at all of us and wiggling her sinuous body for all she was worth. Uma wasn't the only one who looked like she would like to stick a stiletto heel up her bum. Ann was also on the receiving end of that lady's sarcasm and seemed as if her patience was running out. But Maximus was on hand to restrain her with his usual good sense.

Scarlet had a comic book that she was passing around with some hilarious strips about a set of unborn twins. Hando was (somewhat unwisely I thought) surreptitiously showing the men a picture on his phone of a naked Scarlet displaying her gorgeous belly. Everyone else was getting it on and I took a seat at the bar, lit a cigarette and waited for my man.

Clarity was showing round her new engagement ring- I was rather relieved Lachlan hadn't arrived yet- and embarrassing John by making him flash the watch she had bought him. He's so cute. You could tell he was really hating it all in one way - and loving it in another.

"Where's Lach?" Andy asked as he set my glass of white wine down.

"On his way. Should be here any minute," I answered with a smile.

Andy grinned back. "He better. Dangerous for a bloke to leave a girl like you unattended. They'll be queuing up to get a smile from the lovely Cass-"

He's such a sweet, sweet guy. He always makes every girl feel good. But he only has eyes for one himself. Works both ways. Uma doesn't even seem to see anyone else these days but him.

I grinned back and reached to get the money out. But someone slid in next to me and I heard Steve's voice: "I'll get that, Andy." I looked up as he settled down next to me, drinking on a bottle of beer and helping himself to one of my cigarettes. "On your own tonight?"

I shook my head. "Waiting for Lach. What about you?"

"Mandy's on a late shift. Should be in soon as well. Got something for you-"

He smirked, as if pleased with himself, and put an envelope on the table. I looked surprised. "The photographs? For your magazine?" he reminded me.

I was just about to open my mouth and say something when Steve's gaze looked beyond me and his face paled. His eyes seemed to grow even larger and more glassy and his mouth fell open. I turned to follow his line of vision - and there she was.

Monica. From his film. Talking to Andy at the bar. 

"Excuse me...anyone here know a guy named Steve? He takes pictures of fruit..." Andy pointed over to where Steve was sitting. Monica turned. Steve stood up, overturning his stool, and muttering to me. "Look...something just came up....here... the pictures...I gotta go....catch you later, huh?" and then he looked at her again and said:

"Monica???" Steve was just stood there like a stunned mullet.

Monica stepped over and looked up at him, giving him this sultry look. She is absolutely gorgeous. "I heard you hung out here-I just wanted to say hello-" she murmured in that creamy accent of her.

"Hello yourself-" Steve said, still not really getting back the power of speech. They stared at each other. Monica licked her lips. Steve breathed deeply. Everyone looked on amused.

"I just couldn't stand not being with you-"Monica gushed huskily as she reached a hand up and stroked his face.

"I missed you too-"he sighed, stroking his cheek against her hand before pulling her against him and then they kissed passionately right there in front of the bar. Monica ran her leg up and down his as he bent her back and traced his hand seductively down her body.

Uma leaned over the bar. "Oi, you two! Get a room...but not here....a Motel 6 on the highway might be far enough away...and we'll still probably need earplugs...!" The onlookers all laughed at her comment. She wasn't annoyed; you could tell that by the affectionate look in her eyes as she watched them. If she was surprised to see Monica, she didn't show it either. I imagine she is rather used to people turning up who you just wouldn't expect.

"...and hello Monica...what next, hey?" Uma grinned round at us all. Andy was watching with amusement as the two of them were still locked in their public making out session. As they came up for air, he held his hand out to shake Monica's.

"Can I get you two a drink? Monica, isn't it? On the house...?"

She gave him a flirtatious glance and rolled her eyes "Red wine, please....you cutie..." Andy blushed, Uma tickled him playfully and Bou came up to introduce herself.

She seemed very pleased for Steve. "Andy, let their next round be on my tab? Hello, Monica. I'm so glad to finally meet you. Steve tells me about you-"

So they had a drink and I watched them as Steve and Monica snuggled up close and whispered to each other. I doubted that they were going to stay there long. You could feel the sexual energy leaping off them.

Just then Paul led Arthur in, dressed in a smart sports' jacket, denim shirt and slacks. His hair was messy and free of that oil he loves so much and he looked adorable. You could tell he was pleased with himself. Angharad almost wet her knickers, throwing herself on him dramatically. Paul swaggered in the background and asked "Who's next?"

Meanwhile the reunited lovers were wrapped around each other, taking no notice of anything else. "Steve, can we go somewhere and....talk....or at least...talk afterwards...?" I heard Monica murmur in his ears and Steve almost groaned. Moments later they slipped away, drinks unfinished, and we all smiled at each other and raised our own glasses to their departing backs.

"To love!" Uma said, stealing a shy glance at Andy who winked at her.

"To Steve getting some for a change!" Paul added with a snort. "Might stop him whining so much-"

That's when it got even funnier. Well, funny is not exactly the right word for it. How she missed them in the forecourt, I'll never know, but it only seemed a second or two later when in waltzed Miranda and came up to the bar.

"Hi, my name is Miranda, Mandy for short. You're Uma, aren't you? We met at Marie and Bud's wedding - remember? I'm a friend of Marie's. And Steve. We've got a date-" Then she turned to the bar at large. "Have any of you seen Steve? I was supposed to meet him here when I finished at the hospital but I can't see him and he didn't call. I'm a bit worried. He hasn't done anything like that before. He didn't leave a message for me here?"

Everyone looked into their drinks or at their feet or pretended to be watching the sport on TV. I felt really bad for Mandy, but what could we say? None of us wanted to tell her that her Steve was, even as we speak, getting down and dirty with an ex-girlfriend he hadn't seen in ages. Uma made an excuse saying he hadn't been in tonight. I could tell she hated lying to another woman but it would have been too painful to tell Mandy the truth there and then. I could see couples exchanging nervous glances and some of the men giving each other that 'Oh Steven, me old mate, you are so fucked now' look and then grinning into their beers. Men are so cruel to each other.

But before I could do or say much, I felt two strong arms slipping around my waist and a warm kiss just below my ear. I spun round and Lachlan was there. "Hi gorgeous! Been waiting long? Another wine?" He flung his arm round me as he tried to get Paul's attention to get the drinks in. "What's up? Everyone seems a bit subdued in here-"

"Steve was here waiting for Mandy, his girlfriend- and Monica walked in! You know, Monica from his film? They nearly jumped each other's bones right here at the bar. Then Steve and Monica left in a bit of a hurry, as you can imagine. Now Mandy's turned up looking for him. There's going to be some trouble if she finds out, poor girl-"

"Poor thing. I feel for her. It isn't much fun being in that position-"he replied with a troubled look. I knew what he was remembering and it gave me a sinking feeling. I wanted to change the subject.

"Look. Should we take a leaf out of their book? Forget the drinks and make a sharp exit? You must be tired again and I've had a long day too-"

Lachlan smiled. "Good idea." I gathered up my bag and the envelope Steve had left on the bar top. "What's that?" He asked as he took my hand and we left, saying our goodnights to a few people as we left.

"What's what? Oh this? Just some pictures of Scarlet. I'm going to try to get the magazine to see if they're interested in them. Steve took them when she had her belly painted, you remember-?"

LACHLAN

It was Sunday morning, after lying in bed until midday, reading the papers and feeding each other breakfast, chatting, making love and simply being together in that quiet peace that is so much part of the secret world Cass and I shared when I finally dragged myself out of bed and took a shower and shave. She was still dozing in bed when I came back dressed in jeans and a Tee thinking we might go for a walk to get some fresh air. Well, maybe when Madam deigned to get out of bed that was.

Carrying the tray back to the kitchen, I noticed the large brown envelope Cass had brought with her last night, the one Steve had given her. I was curious. It wasn't sealed so I emptied out the contents onto the kitchen table. Out came a stack of glossy professional shots of a heavily pregnant woman - a real beauty - with a large watermelon painted on her stomach and surrounded by fruit. I smiled at the ripe and lush image of fertile woman and then I realized the envelope was not empty. Shaking it, two smaller snaps tumbled out.

These were not professional shots of a pregnant woman.

No, these were intimate personal images of Cassie. One was of Cassie wrapped up in a blanket lying on a long couch. She looked naked underneath and her languid look suggested she had just had sex. I know that expression. The other one was even more shocking. It showed her lying naked on a bed and was taken as if by a person standing above her. It was stark and explicit, very different from the first shot which was discreet and sexy rather than graphic. But this was a no hold barred shot. It was the kind of shot a lover might take. Cassie was lying with her hands placed below her breasts with her legs closed, her head down as if in submission. I had the strong notion that the photographer had told her what to do to make her look like a passive victim. I wondered what sex game had they been playing?

Then I sat down at the table and took a few deep breaths to try and compose myself. These pictures showed Cassie naked in bed with a photographer. Steve had given them to her. He is a photographer.

Not exactly a complex deduction, hey? Cassie never appeared to like Steve much, usually blanking him out if he came over or I talked to him. She didn't seem too keen on having an interview with him like the other girls for that 'fly on the wall' portfolio nonsense he was making about the pub. In fact she had once told me that she thought he was a bit of a jerk. That always struck me as odd. Cassie is very easy with most people and certainly well liked by the men at the bar. I thought at the time that there must have been a reason for her acute dislike of him. It had occurred to me that maybe he had made a pass sometime, caused her to feel uncomfortable or something. But I didn't give it much thought to be honest.

Now I knew exactly what had been behind it all. Steve and Cassie had some history after he arrived and she didn't want him to let me know. I was shocked really. I mean what bloke expects to find naked pictures of his girl have been taken by a man he knows? Let alone that the man in question probably knows her physically as well as he does. Just then Cassie drifted into the kitchen, wearing a robe that was half off and on her shoulders. Her dreamy expression reminded me of the picture where she had been wrapped in a blanket. It made me angry all of a sudden.

"What are these?" I demanded and threw the two shots across at her. She frowned, picked them up and paled.

"Where did you get these?" she muttered hoarsely.

"From your new pal, Steve-"

"Oh God...." she muttered and sat down in a chair with a thud. "I am so sorry. How could he have done this? The bastard! How dare he!"

I sat back in the chair and shrugged. "You let him take them-When?"

"It was just a joke-"

"A joke? Looks more like a sex session with cameras to me, love-"

"Well, it was when you left me. I got drunk one night and Steve and I fooled around-" She blushed but kept on staring at the pictures in horror.

"So it's my fault, is it? May I remind you that I left you - WHEN I FOUND YOU HAVING SEX-" I raised my voice; she jumped and blinked rapidly at my sudden burst of anger. "...with a bloke I know, so, as a result of me being so unfair, you go and have sex with another bloke I know?"

Cassie bit on her lip. I knew she was near to tears. "I didn't say it was your fault. But when you left I was a total mess. One night Steve and I met up. For God's sake, Lach! I thought it was over. You were with that other woman. The barmaid. Every time I went in I saw you two hanging off each other! It hurt. Steve was new...we got talking and...I am not proud of what we did. I never wanted you to know. It was just one night...."

I bridled at her mention of Sheila. "Sheila and I were dating. It was a relationship. Not some grubby little one night stand..."

At that she flared up too. "Some relationship! And if I recall, it was you and her not having a relationship but just sleeping chastely - or so you claim- that started the whole business off. And may I also point out that it didn't take you innocent pals long before you were jumping each other's bones..."

I stood up and banged the table. "I sleep with one woman after you fuck Zack Grant in our bed - and you turn it on me? We are talking about you and Steve. Not me and the one woman I dated when we'd broken up. We are talking about you whoring around again. You think I like knowing that you have slept with Terry Thorne, Zack Grant, Steve and God knows who else in that place? Which brings me to another related topic. How many others did you just fool around with, hey? Am I to assume that every bloody bastard in that place has stuck it up you at some point?"

She flashed her eyes at me. "Don't be so bloody ridiculous. That's an awful thing to say!"

"Well, you haven't answered me yet...How many other guys down the pub you fucked while we were separated? HOW MANY?"

I shouted at her and she backed into her chair. She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it. Her face coloured and I knew then. A lot.

"None."

"You're lying."

"I am not!"

"Oh yes you are, you little tramp...all of them? We all know you're partial to Thorne. And then there's Andy for whom you always have a little secret smile...You given him a bit behind Uma's back? Who else? Grant been sniffing again? WHO ELSE?"

I grabbed her off the chair and hauled her to her feet, shaking her slightly, struggling to contain my anger. I was losing it, really losing it, red mist seeping across my eyes and frustrated bitter rage threatening to take away the last shreds of my reason. "WHO ELSE?"

"Not them-none of them. I wouldn't dream of it...they are in relationships-"

"Right. But all the single men are fair game? WHO? Tell me, so I know who's been laughing at me behind my back-"

"No one is laughing. It wasn't like that. We just made a connection. They don't think like that-"

"TELL ME!"

She swallowed hard and tried to wriggle from my grasp. "You're hurting my arms!"

I dropped them and she pulled away, stumbling to the cupboard and helping herself to a cigarette. I automatically leaned over and lit it for her, taking one for myself. My voice quieter now, I whispered, "I need to know, Cassie."

She nodded. "Dominic Maloney. He fixed my car and we went out for dinner. It was just fuck-buddies kind of sex, you know? Harmless fun-"

"Fuck buddies? Harmless fun?" I echoed in astonishment.

"Jeffrey Wigand. He was good to me-"

"I'll bet he was. The good doctor. Another altruistic act," I snapped sarcastically.

"Don't say it like that. He was good to me. And he warned me about the double standard of men like you. He was right-"

I gave her a sour look. "I'm not taking the blame for your lack of morals, Cassie. Is that all? I want to know-"

"Jack"

"Aubrey?" I gasped. Jesus Christ, but I suppose he would have no qualms about tupping a wench who handed it out freely, girlfriend or no.

"NO! Jack Corbett-"

"Corbett?" I was stunned. He was my mate. Probably my closest mate of all of them. Good bloke. Similar background. Aussie, Uni, good degree and joined the services. Bit younger than me. Didn't see any action. We go to the footy together. Jack Corbett had slept with Cassie?

She took a drag on her cigarette and drew long and hard on it before blowing out a curling plume of grayish blue smoke. She looked sad and sombre and even more beautiful than ever. I tried to forget just how much I wanted her.

"Lachlan. Please understand...they were just men who I went out with and we got a bit of pleasure together. It isn't sordid or slutty. They didn't see it like that-"

"Sure thing. I get out of bed and one of them gets in. That how it works? But as long as they respect you, hey? It's a woman's right to choose these days, isn't it? I've been taking it all in. All this modern garbage-You tell me!  Maloney to Wigand? Christ, little boy to old man and every fucker else in between? And you say no one's bloody laughing?"

"You're a stupid fool-" she began.

"Oh yeah, I am a stupid fool. Stupid to ever believe I could trust a little tart like you. Perfect boyfriend. Stupid. Away at night. Couldn't be better, hey? As long as Cassie never gets cold in the night. That's all that matters-"

At that point Cassie spun round and faced me. Her face was white but there were burning spots on her cheeks. "I have heard enough! I have never slept with anyone but you when we were together. When you left me I was free and when I am free I am allowed to sleep with whosoever I choose. Just as you are. Now, that might not work for you in your happy little 1940s world but, mate, the world has changed. You think you can screw around with any woman and that's fine because you are a man? Well, here's the juice, Lachlan. It works both ways now. The world has changed and you had better change with it or find some little housewife from the '50s to make you feel like the big man. Some backwards little woman who likes baking pies and keeping house and has to get her makeup just right and the kids bathed and in bed before you come home, who never says she has a headache or uses contraception in case it might look like she will stray or ever goes down on you as that's what bad girls like Cass do-even if you bloody well liked it when I did, you hypocrit!"

She spat out the words at me without even taking a breath. I stood and stared at her outburst, as vitriolic as mine. And she had a point. I knew she did. I even admired her courage at standing up to me.

"How can you expect me to marry a woman who has been with so many of my friends?" I murmured.

"I don't. I wasn't looking for marriage, Lachlan. That is your desire." Her voice dropped and she continued in a softer tone. "-Go home, take a cold shower and use that brain of yours.  I have told you the truth and if you do not believe me then there is no future for us. But think carefully before you act this time, because I am not taking the rap for being some kind of slut. I am not a slut. I am an independent woman who loves you and who was lost and lonely when you left me. I took comfort where I could. As you did. And if we can't deal with this reality of the modern world together, what the hell are we going to do when the real problems come our way?"

I dropped back to the chair and buried my head in my hands. I knew she was telling me the truth. In a way I always had. But I wasn't sure that it changed anything really. I knew then that I couldn't accept a woman who had been with the men I regularly sat and drank with. Nor was I much interested in just a passing affair. But I was calmer now.

Cassie knelt down by me, all the anger and aggression seeping away from us both. All that was left was a hollow feeling of emptiness. Of something coming to an end and leaving me terribly sad, but oddly accepting. I knew we had come to the end of the road. "What are we going to do, Cass?" I muttered as she reached out and stroked my hair.

"Love is one thing, Lach, we have plenty of that, but we are not natural partners. I love you more than I have ever loved any man but I don't think I could ever be your wife. I can't be the woman that you need me to be. Is it over, Lach?" she asked me plaintively and I wanted to pick her up and love her forever so that she would never hurt again - but I knew that I could not be the man she needed either.

"I think so, love. Nowhere else to go is there now?" I murmured, wiping the tear from her cheek and trying to smile.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Let's be brave about it. If it's over, then it's over. Face it and walk away. But I never loved anyone like I loved you. Always remember that.  Isn't that the strangest thing?"

I nodded and recalled her words the night we had got back together again. "Sometimes love isn't enough- but it still beats stamps, love." She smiled through her tears at my reference from a long time ago. "You know what they say? The brightest candles always burn the quickest. And you were the brightest in my sky. Remember that night? Up on the roof? You and me and the stars?"

She cried then and I hugged her tight. I reckon I shed a few tears of my own too. My beautiful golden Cassie. It was finally over. I knew - and so did she. But I will never regret knowing her. Never in this world.

"I think I better go, Cass. I think that's the best way."

"I know," she whispered and gave me one last kiss. "You will always be the best, Lachlan Curry. The very best."

"I love you, Cassie. Always will."

Then I walked away and that was it. Well, not quite. This time I didn't go and get drunk. I just stood outside her place on that quiet Sunday afternoon, took a long deep breath and knew that I had to get on with life. I had done it before. I would do it again. But I still had my memories.

Then I went round to Jack Corbett's apartment and thumped him one.  He said: "What was that for, ya stupid bastard?"

I replied. "For Cassie."