Part One: Things Are Gonna Change.

The preparation
CLARITY

It all started when I heard that Russell Crowe, THE Russell Crowe, OUR Russell Crowe, was shooting a movie with Ridley Scott in the Luberon. The Luberon? But it was in France? At around 100 miles from the place I used to live and work before I started my big adventure to the big unknown and moved close to the pub, and met John... and all our friends.

Someone I know very well, and who is still living there, went to that beautiful area twice without being able to see much more than trailers, big trucks with "On-set" written on them, security men, some signs here and there with "A Good Year" on them, security men, a pool under construction, security men, the illuminated chateau de la Canorgue, from afar, security men.... and some other details as much important.

Then came the news of a possible concert. I won't bother you with the details, but, enough is to say that Gaia and I went crazy about that, and tried to know more, without telling our men.... we didn't want to bore them with that, you know? Yes, it's the main reason! Do you doubt our good will? Well, whatever could be the reason why we kept it quiet, we sure didn't between us (keep it quiet).

Then, there was a date: October 15th, somewhere around the Luberon. Somewhere? Great, but where? That person I know in France tried like a crazy to know the exact place, calling every possible place in Avignon (one of the biggest town near the Luberon). We all were so scared we couldn't get tickets! We ABSOLUTELY had to get tickets. It was a question or life or death for us. Well, almost. Try to explain that to a guy! Particularly to one of our guys!

On the D-day when the date was supposed to be released on the Internet, we were online with Gaia, emailing each other frantically, and jumped on our phones as soon as we knew the place where to book the tickets. We made a plan of attack. This girl sure learnt a lot from her man... unless it was he who picked some of her natural strategies?

It was very hard because they didn't have the tickets yet and made us all wait, taking our names and saying that we would be called as soon as they would get it all sorted out. Explain to me why other people usually just know exactly, months before, when and where their favourite artist is going to play, can comfortably order the tickets online from their home by just easily and smoothly giving their credit card number... while us, we had to fight hard to get this? Why? Because, our "Big Man" is not an easy one, and you have to deserve the right to see him, I suppose! But they didn't know who they were dealing with. On a way or another, we would have these tickets!

Angel got hers, don't know how, we didn't talk about that, but I suppose that she had to do it discreetly, too, so Jack wouldn't make it harder for her. Tulip didn't ask for any but, because we had talked about that, I knew she just couldn't miss such a chance to meet the creator of her handsome man. Kathy put aside for a while her blooming relationship with John Nash and joined us in the hunt for our tickets. 

The poor girls from this little town in south of France, Le Thor, where our star had decided to perform for a bunch of people, had no idea about what was going on. When I called them first, a few minutes before the time when they were supposed to open, I heard them whisper to each other: "What are we going to do? There are already 4 English women on line." I soon understood that they sure didn't expect such a rush from so many people from many different countries in the world, as resolute as us to get their tickets, at all cost!

Then, they had Gaia and Clarity on the phone each day that God made, asking what was going on with the tickets for Russell Crowe's concert. I must say that these ladies were pretty patient. And, when, on Thursday morning, Gaia sent me an email saying: "TICKETS READY!" I called this person in France and she drove all the way to the Luberon, dropping her job and all, to get these tickets for us. Don't feel sorry for her, she owes me a lot, believe me! She was really happy to do that for us. And the Luberon is such a nice place! As soon as her mission was done, she sent us a scan of one of the tickets, as a proof of life. We immediately started to breathe better. She just told us that this place was lost in the middle of nowhere and that, while driving there, looking for the place, she thought that our Man must have a sense of humour!

In the next few days, we got busy reserving our hotel rooms and transportations. And then, all we had to do was to wait for the time to run as fast as it could... to reach the D-Day...! AND, another detail we had to go through was... to tell our men...

John was rather easy. 

I must say that I'm a lucky one; John is, most of the time, an easy going companion, almost always happy with what I propose. Of course, sometimes, I'd like him to propose more often, to surprise me too, but I suppose that you "can't have the butter and the money from the butter", as we say in France (I think that you say "you can't have your cake and eat it too"). Don't get me wrong, I love him just the way he is, and I love to surprise him; he's such a good sport... and he knows how to make me feel valuable, he knows how to express his satisfaction. It's just that... oh, anyway, we women always want more.  Is it our fault if we were made that way? But, okay, enough on this, I'm happy with who he is, laid back, easy going, supportive, understanding, and more than all that, loving. Okay, I won't start or I would use all the room that I've been given on these pages to tell our story by enumerating John's qualities... and I'm not sure I would even be done with them. Of course, I could also enumerate a few weaknesses too... but no. I won't.

Back to the story. Well, if I remember well, I chose a day when John was in a particularly good mood because Hando asked him if we'd agree to be the godparents of their adorable little girls, after the joyful day we had spent together in their house... and their swimming pool, in the depth of which John had left... some things, including his legendary seriousness. My sheriff darling was beaming; it was such a pleasure to see his happiness at the thought of being the godfather to these cuties! I mentally thanked Hando and Scarlet for this kind gesture (I couldn't do it physically because we were not supposed to know yet). I was not sure at all I deserved this same honour as much as him, but I knew I would do my best if we ever had to take care of these little gems for good. I just wished it would never happen... for Scarlet and Hando, and their babies.

So John was so happy. I think I could have told him that we were going to sell everything and leave to the moon, and he would have agreed happily.

I showed him the pictures I got from the Internet of the wonderful place where we were going to stay, in the heart of the Luberon, very quiet, romantic, and secluded. Just what we and our friends needed. Angel had booked a room in a hotel in Avignon for her and Jack, probably interested by the historic past of the city, Kathy had a room in a hotel in Le Thor, close to the concert venue.  And I suspect that John Nash was not so comfortable with a lot of us, so she must have chosen on purpose not to be with us all the time. We all understood. We knew that John Nash was... particular, but aren't we all? He needs his space, so we let him have it. But, don't make any mistake, if he, or any other of our group needs us, we'll be right here, for him, or her.

I thought I could surprise John, my John, with this trip... and its purpose. But, of course, the words had already been spread around the pub, and he's not the last to notice, and remembers what he hears and sees. Hey, he's a sheriff! And a good one! So, the Luberon sounded familiar to him, and he soon made the association with a certain Aussie male's strong presence there.

I wished so much for him to go with me to the concert, but, put asides that these men don't seem to appreciate too much their creator's talents as a singer (but we all know that men can lack taste sometimes, good taste particularly... EXCEPT, of course, when it's about choosing us to be their partner!), Terry's mention that it would not be wise to have several Russell Crowe look-alikes in the theatre made some sense. We must admit that, when motivated, these men can be very smart.  We couldn't argue with this statement... and it allowed them to plan a visit of the wine cellars of the Luberon. Well, it was good to know that each of us could have our fun... too bad it couldn't be together. But there would still be the times before and after the concert! And that, that was going to be priceless! What a weekend! I couldn't wait to get to it!

GAIA

"No, we won't." 

The tone of his voice was supposed to indicate that the subject was closed for him. He wasn't even looking at me, dismissing me like he dismissed the short conversation we just had. Concentrated in the daily ritual of shaving, a white towel wrapped around his hips, he leaned near the mirror to see more closely a spot of skin behind his left jaw. With several precise strokes, he removed the remaining hair in that delicate place and leaned back apparently satisfied with himself. He passed the razor under steaming water before placing it in its glass support.

"Yes we will." 

The siege was beginning and if he just discovered the fact that I wasn't about to back down on this he didn't let it show. Planting stern eyes on him, I folded my arms over my breast in a closed stance and deliberately leaned on the door to block him from leaving the bathroom. Not that my little self was able to keep him from doing what he wanted to. No. But my mind was dead set and one way or another he would have to change his opinion.

When Terry had woken this morning I had seen that something was bothering him. Maybe it had something to do with Wildie and East or maybe any other situation he usually found himself in when he felt that friends needed his help. Even if it was a part of him that I loved and knew to be his true nature, I felt that at some point it was torturing him. The fact that he could help the people he loved until a certain level like information gathering, ringing a few friends or simply listening to them wasn't enough for Terry somehow.

He needed to end the crisis. Sorting things out like in the old times even if he despised the fact that he had only been a pawn on the grand scheme of the K&R business. He got prepared, checked the weapons, synched the watches, went, took the hostage out from the enemies' claws and everybody was happy (well, everybody except the bad guy who received a bullet between the eyes, of course...). With feelings and people's pasts surfacing it wasn't that easy and I knew it was tormenting him to have to stand between two friends he cared so much about and try not to drop a brick by taking one's side...So this day I was completely aware of the fact that I felt to him like an annoying mosquito which he only wanted to slap to get rid of.

But he hadn't counted on the fact that I wasn't letting go this time. Clarity and I had already planned our trip to the Lubéron: first Clarity, John, Terry and I would fly to Paris (Clarity insisted that I would give John some French lessons even after I told her the French lessons I was writing on the board were jokes and nothing else. I finally accepted...she's my friend, you know). Then we would part. I wanted Terry and I to take the TGV to Avignon. Because I wanted to have the time to see the landscapes, hear French conversations around me again, to take in the French mentality again. The little things that drive you crazy when you live there but that you regret when you live abroad. It had been too long since I hadn't come back in my home country and I wanted to stretch as much as possible the time there too.

Clarity and John were to fly from Paris to Montpellier where Clarity had to stop to see some of her family and then borrow a car to drive to Avignon and pick us up at the TGV railway station to head to Ménerbes where the guest house she had found was. Only Terry wasn't really enthusiastic about our plans and thought it looked more like a pilgrimage than a trip to France for the girls to see The Man Himself.

When Terry grabbed both my shoulders to calmly remove me from the door, already in the prospect of getting dressed, I resisted. Of course knowing his expertise in combat training it was a little bit presumptuous of me to even imagine stopping him. But I tried anyway. He wasn't going to walk away like this...

I grabbed the only thing that could make him see that I was deadly serious and accompanied by a "Terrence...If you ever thought you had the choice, you were wrong." I thought it could catch his attention. Well... it wasn't very subtle of me but he wasn't helping me too much, you see.

He tensed and looked me in the eye for the first time since the conversation started. Good. One point for me. 

In what I thought was a surrender movement, he slowly raised both his hands up. A second later Terry leaned slightly and put them at either side of my head, crowding me. Even if I thought I was "handling" the situation, he wanted to show me that he wouldn't give up that easily.

"Why are you being so unreasonable? The trip will be 3 times longer by train. I refuse to waste any of my time if a more adequate means of transportation is available."

His voice was sharp and I could even find a little threat lingering in the way he said "unreasonable". Oh... crap...wrong strategy... quick...let me find another one...

My hand relaxed a little and I unfolded one finger. Delicately it caressed one of his balls through the towel. Our eyes were dead set on each other and I have to admit that a devilish satisfaction ran through me after seeing a flicker of surprise cross his marvelous green/blue eyes. For several seconds I went on with my finger.

"When you and I travel, Terry my love, you always take care of the booking, choosing the fastest way to get from point A to point B." 

My voice was pure sugar, seductive, full of the need to both make him change his mind and then fuck him senseless. Not as a reward for my possible victory over him. No. The love we shared had long been changed into something less childish and egoistic than the first weeks together. Traveling had always been his task and for once I wanted him to accept my way of planning our week-end. I wanted him to acknowledge that there was another way of traveling...mine: with a maximum of discoveries, fun and time together.

He was holding my gaze but his breathing was starting to change. It was the time for my other hand to open the white barrier and find his naked cock. It twitched when my nails brushed it slightly.

"It's a trick as old as the world, Gaia. Aren't you ashamed using it to get what you want?"

How to describe this particular moment when both strength and tenderness ooze from him at the same moment? I can't. I just can't. For once I lack words... And this ability of his surprises me each time. And I can't get enough of it.

"I'm not ashamed...why should I be? I fight with the weapons God granted me with...there's no shame to have..."

A little more pressure at the right place and I smiled tenderly at his hiss of pleasure. Apparently it wasn't enough to make him change his mind. He still tried to talk me out of it.

"We'll certainly face strikes in France. You know how much your people enjoy to going on strike... it's like a national sport to them..."

"It's part of their charm, my love." I purred. "You never know what to expect from them. Come on...succumb to the temptation...I'm sure you'll enjoy the ride..."

Catching the double meaning of my sentence he finally let me see the exact moment he chose to capitulate. His right hand left the wall and came to caress under my chin.

Oh...

You see, Terry is a man of few words. Especially when it involves feelings. Through our months together I had started to understand that the places he chose to touch me at certain moments expressed moods, feelings or even desires. Like a subtle message directly to my heart.

This particular place had a story. In one of those moments of deep and true soul-baring he has when all his self-control layers have melted under my sweet assaults, he had once told me that he cherished this exact spot where my throat becomes my neck.

I had asked him why. His answer was not more than a whisper. 

"Because it's so soft... and you have this strange way of watching me when you bare your neck for me. You know perfectly well it's one of the most vulnerable parts of a human being and that I hold enough strength and knowledge to snap it almost effortlessly. That I've already done it. It's your way to prove the total trust you put into me. Each time you do that...it gets to me so...deeply. So you hold the power to reach some hidden parts of me that nobody had ever reached before you. It means that this special place..." he had leaned and put a butterfly kiss on my throat, "symbolises the trust we share. What we thought was being a weakness becomes the ultimate proof of our love for each other."

So when he chose to delicately stroke the flesh of my throat that morning in the bathroom I caught the meaning hidden behind it. He trusted me with the organisation.

But the fact that he'd turned such a strong moment between us into him giving me his agreement to plan our trip was odd. Why use this silent, tender and special way instead of telling me "OK, I give you carte blanche for this trip?" I didn't understand...

I finally noticed that my hand seemed to have a life of its own: it was still lightly stroking now his fully erect penis without my knowledge.

"Is that such a big deal for you to let me plan our trip that you need to use your secret language to let me know that you trust me with your dear life?" I chuckled. "We are going to France, mon amour. Not to Baghdad!"

He was looking at me very seriously. First I thought I had offended with my remark. But then he did something quite unexpected: he smiled broadly and his eyes left mine to rest on my busy little hand.

"God...What's a man gotta do these days to get a hand job?"

Oh!

The rat! 

TULIP

"...Handsome? ...Would you like to spent some days off in the Luberon with me...and...some... of the others...?"

He frowned at me. 

I was waiting anxiously for his answer. Holding my breath. Sending out a silent prayer.

Then he grinned.

"Luberon? Where's that?"

"Provence, Egan."

"And where's that?"

I rolled my eyes at his ignorance. 

I was about to get the atlas out of the shelf to show him, when he just said:

" Yeah sure...dirty weekend away...why not? Been a while since we went away and treated ourselves..."

Phew.

Now that was rather easy...

"... Others? Who else we going with?"

Shit!

There was still left the tiny detail of informing him about the real reason why I wanted to go to Southern France out of the blue.I knew that it would require a lot of flair telling him because of whom he would spend an extended weekend with me near Avignon."...

"Errrr, one or two more... like Clarity and John, Gaia and Terry, Kathy and John, Mr. RC himself, Angel and Jack...you mind? Oh Egan this will be such a great trip! The Luberon is in southern France and it is so beautiful there and the hotel is so beautiful too and the concert will be so much fun and you can do some riding in the mountains there and you can sample wines with the guys, if you want to ...What do you think?"

Did he hear it?

Did I manage to speak fast enough to hide 'that' name in my rant?

I waited.

Nothing.

There was only the rustling of the newspaper, when he turned over another side.

When I couldn't stand it any more I nudged him.

He lowered the paper for a moment and a tiny grin crept over his face.

"Yeah, sure. Sounds like a good idea..."

Yes!!!

Man, I am so good at this!

I can fool everybody!

"...as long as that RC bloke keeps his hands off my girl..."

...except Egan.

I held my breath again until I thought I would turn blue from lack of oxygen.

But except the ongoing rustle of the newspaper and a mumbled comment about some sports event here and there no further sound from his side was to be heard.

So that was all? 

That was what I had been afraid of since 3rd of October?

Since I knew, that sweet Clarity had bought a ticket for me too?

I thought he would scream bloody murder, if I told him, that I wanted to visit a concert of this 'RC bloke'.

That was all, why I had edged around an ultimate consent for days?

I stared at the newspaper-wall in front of me.

I couldn't tell if I was relieved or worried.

Maybe it was a mixture of both. 

Maybe 'confused' was the right word.

I angled my head and tried to wrap my mind around a very special thing that bugged me right then.

Why was there no jealousy or complaints?

He simply accepted, that his girl was about to drive over 600 miles just to see some other guy on stage.

Being a man of the late 1950's, shouldn't he react at least a tiny bit annoyed?

What did it mean, that he was not?

Why was he so calm?

Why was he always this calm concerning these things?

Damn, somehow his behavior unsettled me.

It did every time I was confronted with it like that.

I thought I knew, what to expect from a man like Egan.

I thought I knew, what he might like and what he might dislike with a vengeance.

But every time I thought I knew what was going on in his mind and how to deal with it, he taught me a lesson.He showed me time after time again, that I was not able to affect his reactions, not to mention manipulating them. He still was his own boss. He still was free.

Maybe, that is why I ripped away that bloody newspaper and plopped myself on his lap.

And maybe, that is why, after pressing myself against him and kissing him thoroughly, I said:

"You never know...handsome..."

ANGEL

I set the phone receiver back down in its cradle and sighed.  That was the 3rd or 4th airline I'd phoned, and it seemed that as soon as I told them how far along I was in my pregnancy, and that I had had high blood pressure, I was "too great a risk" for them to permit me to travel.

So, I had a ticket for Russell Crowe's only concert date in Europe this year ... and at that moment, no means of getting there!  Not to mention that when, or if, I did find the means of travelling, I was pretty sure I would have to win Jack round to the idea that it would be OK for a 33 weeks' pregnant woman to go gallivanting almost all the way across France for just one weekend!

Ultimately, it was Jack who solved the problem for me as we were lying in bed one evening after returning from the Pub.  He had just started reading to me from Pride and Prejudice, a long-time favourite of mine.

"....It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife....." 

Jack didn't read much further.  I don't know how or why, but there was something about Jack's voice that the baby really responded to, particularly in these close, intimate moments.  Jack had grown increasingly tender towards me of late, and it seemed that, when we were alone together, he could barely resist touching and caressing my growing belly.

As he was doing at that moment.

The baby responded immediately to Jack's touch, kicking against the palm of his hand. Jack, as ever, was delighted.

"Oh ha ha ha!  Energetic tonight, ain't he, Angel!"

While Jack was distracted, I seized the moment to pitch my idea for one final holiday. 

"Jack, how do you feel about taking a short trip next weekend? Just for a few days ... Call it one last holiday before it's too risky for me to travel. Goodness knows when we will have the time for another once this little one is born!" 

Barely pausing for breath, I rattled on...

"I thought we might visit the South of France... I don't suppose you had much opportunity to travel freely in France back in the day, and the region is still fairly warm this time of year. We could even go by train from London, so I wouldn't have to fly...!

We won't be there alone though.  Clarity and John, and Gaia and Terry ... oh and Kathy and John Nash ... and maybe Tulip and Egan, will be there too. We girls have tickets for a very special concert that's taking place."

To my surprise, Jack acquiesced immediately.

"The South of France...?  What a fine idea! But that's a damned tedious train journey, Angel. How about sailing? You are doing well, the weather is fair and the fresh air will do you both good. We could meet up with the others there. What do you say to that...?

And there's a concert, is there? One of the French romantics, perhaps? Chopin? Berlioz? One of the new boys...? How charming...we must do it...I must start preparing to catch the tide...Angel...get to it...lose not a minute..."

Sailing.  On the Atlantic. In the middle of October.  Was he crazy?  I tried to lodge a feeble protest, but Jack would stand for no excuses.

"Sailing? But Jack, are you sure we will get there in time? We will have to sail across the Bay of Biscay and round past Gibraltar, won't we?"

"It should take two days at most. And the forecast in the Bay is fair for the time of year. Do not fret, my dear; we will not be late. Now shake a leg there, there is much to be done before we depart."

"Surely you don't mean to leave right away? Jack, we can't!  There are a hundred and one things that need to be done.  I need to check my insurance, for a start - it might need to be changed again.  That can't be done until tomorrow.  Nor can cancelling the milk and the newspapers.  And I don't think next door would be too pleased if we went knocking on their door at this time of night to ask them to pick up the post and keep an eye on the house ..."

I paused for breath.

"Very well," Jack replied. "We leave on the evening tide tomorrow. But no later, d'ye hear?"

KATHY

Oh god! Now what? Only a couple of days into my brand new... uhm... "thing" with John Nash I get this un-fucking-believable news. Sorry for swearing, but well it must be allowed if you are totally at a loss for a fitting word, right? I mean the thing is, that I've been waiting for this to happen since May - no strike that. Actually I've been waiting for this since the last minute of the last show in the House of Blues in Chicago 2003. But ever since the man himself talked about a tour "later in the year", I've been checking various pages on the internet three times a day. 

I always knew that Mr. Crowe must have a wicked sense of humour, because a few days ago word got out that he will play one show in Europe. In France. In the middle of nowhere. And in no less than two weeks.

The minute I read about it I was on the phone trying to get a flight. Then I hung up and thought about it again. Two seconds later I was on the phone again, yelling in the ear of a travel agent to get two flights to Avignon, or Paris and then check a train connection to Avignon, or to Montpellier, or any-freaking-where that was close to a town/village/place/hole-in-the-wall called Le Thor. I think the lady at the travel agency kind of heard it in my voice that it was urgent. She sounded a bit scared when she asked for my phone number to get back to me.

When she called me back an hour later and told me the costs for the airfare, I came down from my high with a big thump. I couldn't afford to pay for one ticket, not to mention two.

Okay I'm nothing if not relentless, so I called the train station. Ugh, it would mean a 18 hour trip one way, changing trains at least 7 times and the money was too much to even consider it.

I.Will.Not.Give.Up. 

Four hours later I had two plane tickets for a reasonable price, I'd found out where Le Thor was (okay it really was in the middle of nowhere in France like I thought) and I had booked rooms in two different hotels. Two nights in Montpellier, two nights in bumfu... uhm Le Thor.

A double room in each one...I mean... uhm... I had to save money, right? So... two rooms? No way, much too... er... expensive.. and... the beds were too far away from... uhm... well the other bed.

As I drove home from work (thank god the boss wasn't there today, she would not have been amused about the energy and hours I put into doing private things) I thought about how one single man can turn usually sane people in doing things like this. I had no idea if there would really be a show or whether I would get a ticket for it. Well a quick look at my wardrobe at home told me that high heels, a short skirt and lots of cleavage would probably take care of that problem. You just need a male security guy at the front or rear door and your chances of getting in a sold-out show are pretty high.

However the main question was, what would John say?

From what I knew of him, spontaneity was probably not his biggest trait. After five minutes of staring with dreamy eyes off into space, I grinned. Thinking about John had made me calm down for the first time in hours. Jesus, I already was so far gone for him. He was so understanding, patient, funny and sexy, I couldn't stop having fantasies about him all day long. Especially about his neck; he smells so good there.

This time I wanted to have more with the man in my life, having the feeling that I would not be disappointed. He was just so different from any other guy I've ever met. I trusted him. A trip to a romantic country like France, one room with one big bed for both of us to share. Wow! This is where I zoned out again for yet another daydream.

The next hour was spent at my laptop at home emailing Clarity, Tulip and Gaia.. They all wanted to go too, including Angel. With their men. This is where my stomach got on the next roller coaster ride.  Spending time with Gaia, and Terry? And Jack, John and Egan? Did I mention that Terry would probably come too?

Clarity and Gaia were on the phone with the people from the place in Le Thor where the concert was supposed to be, trying to get tickets for everyone or at least any kind of information. At this point I did not have doubts about seeing the man play and sing his music again. I mean, come on, five girls from the Come On Inn setting their combined minds on getting there? It had to happen!

I thought about how to tell John all of this, but in the end I chickened out and wrote him an email. Not telling him who the artist was that we wanted to see perform on stage, but emphasising the fact that there would be one room with one bed for the both of us. I even included some photos of the hotel rooms. I hoped it would help his decision of coming along.

After that I shut the computer off and went to take a long bath. The steaming water, the scent of the bath salts and some soothing music helped relieve the stress and made way for some nice thoughts about a certain man and a new kind of tension. In the middle of letting my hands wander and making my body 'relax', the phone rang. I let the machine pick it up and listened to John's slow drawl, the things his voice did to me. I shuddered.

Hm, no word about my email. Maybe he hadn't read it yet? 

When I called him back a little later, he still didn't mention the email. I was about to burst, I had to ask him about it.  He answered me that he'd read it and said nothing else. Okay, I guessed he didn't want to go and was trying to think of a way to let me down gently. But he hadn't actually said "no". So I started rambling about the hotels, how much I wanted him to come, about the huge bed and I told him not to say "yes" or "no" yet, to do it later when we would be at the pub. And when he hopefully had more time to think about how wonderful the time spent in France could be for us.

We got a bit distracted when he picked me up and arrived at the Come On Inn later than planned. For hours I waited for him to say something.

Finally John took my hand, 

"Kathy, about France..."

I held my breath.

"It was very sudden and I do have my work commitments. I'm not talking here about the moronic imbeciles that take up space in my classroom but my own research. It's very important and I'm writing an article for a journal that showcases another breakthrough in linear equations. I really don't know if I can take the time...."

My face fell. He was not going to come. He had to work. Of course, I should have known that he couldn't take off on such a short notice. It would have been too good to be true.

"However, in spite of all that, I have arranged for a substitute to take over my class. My work can be delayed for a few days."

Huh? I stared at him blankly, tried to understand what he was talking about.

"What does one pack to go to France? I suppose I should inform you that I have motion sickness when I fly. I need to take those funny little pink tablets. Do you think you can pick me up some?"

I didn't let him finish, threw my arms around him and let out a little yelp. Grinning, he said the last words, 

"Yes, Kathy, I will go with you to France."

I was so happy, but of course his teasing had to be punished with some tickling and together we laughed out loud. Was I a lucky girl or what?

The next morning I threw pieces of my wardrobe that fit me in my suitcase and then I took half of the things out again because there was no more room for shoes and underwear. Five days, I did a quick calculation in my head, 7 pairs of shoes should be enough. Well better make it eight. Then I crammed everything black and lacy and see-through I could grab from my underwear drawer in between all the other stuff.  Now - what to wear on the night of the concert? I searched for my black leather mini, my leopard print high heeled boots, a black top that shows a deep cleavage and at the last minute I found my leopard print panty and bra set. I had nine pairs of shoes in there by then, so what? I had no idea what the weather will be like and I like to be prepared.

My two cats got a last cuddle and I dropped of my spare key at my friends house. She would feed them until I came back. On my way to work, I drove by the drugstore and bought some motion sickness medicine for John. Damn, they didn't have any that won't make him tired. Well, better a bit tired than sick.

The last day at work stretched endlessly and when I finally arrived at John's place I felt so giddy I was afraid he'd throw me out, because I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

But he just teased me a bit and used his very effective ways of silencing me.

I helped him pack, which was not an easy task... the man has not enough casual clothes. I finally told him he should just take the white t-shirt and that nice fitting pair of jeans. That I could not get enough of seeing him in that. He smiled, stepped closer to me, told me he was not planning on wearing clothes for most of the time we would spend there, and we got lost in each other again for a while.

In the end we dug up some more tees, another pair of jeans and some shirts. He insisted on taking a suit and a white Oxford shirt, he told me he wanted to take me to dinner in a fancy French restaurant on one evening. Just the two of us, he looked so serious when he said that. I walked into his arms and told him that yes, I would like that and the others would surely understand it.

I thought I wouldn't be able to sleep that night, I was so excited. John pulled me close, wrapped his body around mine and I felt myself calm down and get sleepy.

He does that to me.

Well, there we were... each having found her own way to get her own way with her man and find her own route to the Holy Grail (aka Le Thor). Never let it be said that we ladies are not capable of using every weapon in our arsenal to achieve a goal.

One question.

How come the men were so damned easy? Makes us nervous....