Ever wonder where the brothers might go when they are not at the Pub?  What other places they might frequent?  Well, one night, Carol enters a new venue in her neighborhood and meets Maximus and Jack. Apparently they enjoy getting off by themselves without the younger brothers once in a while, to talk, play darts, and relax, sharing as they do the experience of being military men from times long ago past.  At this new club, Carol is irresistibly drawn into a brief liaison with Max. This occurs before she starts her new job, meets Uma, and is introduced to the unique patronage at the Pub, where she falls head over heels for Zack.  Much later, Carol meets Max again, at the Pub. They know each other, but are careful not to reveal their prior liaison. They don't want to make their connection known to anyone.  How will they react , seeing each other again after such a space of time?  Will Zack sense this link between them?  Will Carol  tell Zack the truth; and how will this prospect affect their new torrid, harmonious relationship?  Our actions sometimes have unexpected repercussions.

I clicked off the movie I had been watching on television - Gladiator, for the 400th time.  God, I love that movie! Beautiful Maximus, my hero, my perfect man, my idol.  If I ever met anyone like him I'd be terrified.  He left me weak and moist at both ends every time I saw the movie. 

I carefully dressed in preparation for my visit to a nearby pub to check out the local talent.  This was a hang-out I had heard about from friends as being "retro, relaxed, kind of bohemian," because one could do odd things like order finger foods, liquors, wines, or steins of various beers, or choose from an extensive menu of exotic coffee/latte' creations.  It was permissible to sit there for hours, or all day, and read books or newspapers, play chess or cards, listen to classical music, (although I understood they had a penchant for playing Wagner or other German composers -- not a big draw for me), and you could smoke.  It was called King's Rook. This happened prior to finding my current favorite watering hole, the Come On Inn.   

I popped cheerily into this new club, and looked around for any familiar faces - no one I knew.  What really impressed me was that nobody looked up and stared when I came in; they were all so engrossed in their individual pursuits.  It was a refreshing change from the usual feeling of being under a microscope, like walking the red carpet every time one entered a new establishment.  "Here she is.  Fresh meat.  Everybody have a look see."  This was different - dignified, classy.  If anyone was looking they were doing it surreptitiously.  I sat at a tiny round table and ordered white wine and looked around curiously to orient myself to the new surroundings.  It was casual, dimly lit, old-world and cozy.  The woodwork was dark, the lights shaded by dark green glass globes and the windows were the small many-paned old fashioned type. 

There was a dart game going on in the back of the small venue.  Two men were quietly challenging each other with soft voices and deep, rumbling chuckles.  I glanced at them quickly and noted, for the record,  they were alone - (no female companions), casually turned out in well fitting jeans, boots and flannel shirts, they smoked thin cigars between dart shots, and they were gorgeous - both of them - magazine covers. 

I gulped a mouthful of wine, nearly choking, and rifled through my purse in search of the novel I had been reading so as not to appear to be eavesdropping as I listened to their banter.  They were both tall, broad shouldered, narrow hipped,  and oozed testosterone and presence.  One had a long shining blond ponytail and carried himself with grace and a certain hauteur.  The other had shorter darker hair, a similar build, and wore his quiet dignity with an ease bordering on arrogance.  Apparently they were accustomed to a jocular parrying back and forth, as their good natured dares and barbs never seemed to rankle.  

As I pretended to peruse my book, I listened to the sounds of Vivaldi, ordered another white wine and wished I was not there alone.  It was difficult to sneak peeks at them when there was no one to play off.

After two glasses of wine I was in definite need of the ladies room so I found my way to the back of the room, passing both men who nodded, smiled briefly with strangely similar sea-colored eyes, and returned their attention to their game.  In the rest room I checked my appearance, freshened my coral lip gloss, brushed my dark auburn hair, spritzed my new Chanel scent behind my ears and felt satisfied that I looked quite presentable in low rise, fitted jeans, black ankle boots, black man's shirt tied at the waist with a short black top underneath, small hoops of ornate silver in my ears and a thin silver waist chain. 

On my way back to my table a strange string of events brought me in physical contact with the dark haired of the two strangers, who, I happily discovered, not only had sea green, long-lashed eyes, but perfect bow lips, and a smoky velvet voice that went straight to my nether regions when he spoke.  As I walked on past their board game, I flung my hand out to loosen my long hair where it had caught in the back of my shirt.  As my arm straightened out again, it cut directly into their line of fire and I ended up with a dart in my wrist, thrown by the dream man with the short dark chestnut hair.  He roared in surprise, exclaiming his apology and grabbed my wrist to examine the wound, stating over and over how extremely sorry he was.  In shock, speechless, I stood there and let both men surround and examine me as if I was looking on the scene as a third person.

"God's teeth, Max.  What have you done?"  said the blond Adonis.

My fuzzy brain registered the name "Max," thinking, "What a coincidence." This beautiful stranger looked exactly like the actor who portrayed Maximus in Gladiator, and he had the same name.  How weird is that?  The other man looked similarly familiar, but from a different sea movie starring the same actor.  Was I in the Twilight Zone or what?

Max held my wrist close to his face, declaring,

"It was an error, Jack!  She put her hand out as I was throwing!  Look ... it only went into the flesh at the tip.  It's shallow.  I'm going to pull it out....  Miss? ... Can you hear me?"

I blinked into his amazing eyes, nodding vaguely. 

"Jack," he said, "get me a shot of whiskey."  

"I don't like whiskey." I stated quietly.  

He smiled.  "It's not for you, Miss.  It's to pour into the wound to cleanse it.  It won't hurt.  I assure you."  

Somehow I didn't buy that but I let him carefully pull the dart from my wrist, cringing like a child, and felt the sting of the liquor as he poured it into the hole.  He lied.  It did sting.  But not too bad, and I relaxed as he pressed my flesh to make it bleed.  He kept looking at me to see if I was getting faint and seemed impressed that I was so stoic about everything he was doing.  He couldn't, however, see my insides which were doing cartwheels. 

The two men asked the bartender for a medical kit, dotted my wrist with an antiseptic and placed a bandage on the dot, assuring me all was well, that I would live, and was there anything in the world they could do for me. 

Max smiled into my eyes and took my arm protectively, "I hope you are recovered, Miss?  I am beyond embarrassed to make your acquaintance in such a dramatic fashion.  Please, allow me to buy you a drink."

"Yes, Ma'am." declared Jack.  "Let us brace you with some spirits.  What an ordeal you've been through." They were so sweet I was smiling like a loon.

"Not unless you stop calling me "Miss." I said quietly.  "My name is Carol - and you are Max?"  I offered my hand in greeting.  He took it and bowed slightly at the waist rather formally with a smile in his eyes. 

"I am - and this is Jack." he indicated to the blond god standing beside him.  "We are pleased to meet you and so sorry about the circumstances."

"Most assuredly, Miss, a-h-h, Carol, this is hardly the way we would have chosen to make your acquaintance."  Jack murmured sincerely.  He took my hand and kissed it gently. 

I felt like I was in a time warp.  What men these days acted so chivalrously?  It was lovely and soothing and I had difficulty being even remotely concerned about the new aperture in my wrist, if that's what it cost to meet two such beautiful examples of the male sex. 

"Please." I assured them.  "It was an accident.  I'm fine - no damage done.  It's a pleasure to meet you both."  I was embarrassed by all the attention the mishap raised in this new setting and I just wanted to sit back down and disappear.  Max and Jack seemed to want to talk, as if to make up for the unfortunate incident, and I sat with them at their table while they bought me another white wine.   

Time passed most pleasantly and at evening's end, Jack excused himself saying he must prepare for tomorrows "foray into the underside of society," (whatever that meant), leaving me alone with Max and an uncommonly magnetic, though unspoken attraction between us. 

He offered to drive me home, which I felt was to assuage the guilt he was feeling for having wounded me.  I turned him down politely but he pressed,

"Please, allow me to assure myself that you will be safe from further attack by careless men such as myself," he prodded with no small amount of self deprecation.

I was utterly charmed, seduced, and accepted.  He followed me in his car and we got out at my parking area and talked about mundane issues for a time, reluctant to bring the evening to a halt.  We said goodnight lingeringly, he kissed me on the cheek, and we made plans to meet at the Rook for a drink the following evening. 

This ritual of meeting for a drink became a two or three times a week 'thing' as we became better acquainted, and soon it was apparent to both of us that we had a common desire to take it further.  We were reluctant for unarticulated individual and personal reasons to pursue what was clearly becoming a mutual physical pull toward one another and we stumbled around painfully attempting to pretend the desire was not real.

There was a deep reserve in Max that I was reluctant to intrude upon.  It's was as if he was holding himself back with stoic discipline from touching me or intimating in any way that he wanted anything but a platonic liaison.  I was far from a stoic but I respected his seeming preference for distance and did not reveal in words what I really wanted from him.  It was there, however, disturbingly apparent to both, every time we looked into each other's eyes. 

I was on the horns of an ethical dilemma.  Should I make my desire known to him and make the big move on him, or wait for his call?  Did he want to lower his reserves and reach out to me for the physical fulfillment he knew I would willingly provide, or did he prefer to continue to keep his distance?  How involved did he want to become?

This moral quandary went on for a few frustrating weeks as my life progressed away from the Rook.  I had been hitting the bricks, earnestly job hunting, and finally landed the position I had been pursuing.  At this new employ I made some incredible new friends, and I was feeling excited and challenged and happy.  I wanted to celebrate.  However, rather than going to the Pub where my new friend Uma invited me, I went to the Rook that night to find Max.   

I needed to see him and share the good news.  Because I had no hidden agenda at that time, and I was treating him as a friend, I did this casually, inviting him to my apartment to share the bottle of imported cognac I had been saving for just such a special occasion.

He seemed delighted by the invitation and accepted without hesitation, with a happy shrug and a genuine, "I would be delighted to." 

In the parking area, he walked with me to my car and hesitated before opening the door.  He turned around and looked down into my eyes with a riveting look. His eyes were dark, searching.  His mouth came down to mine so slowly.  Angling his head, feather soft, he kissed me for a long, sweet moment, then raised his head and again stared deeply into my eyes. I was sure I had an 'anywhere, anytime' expression all over my face as I took his hand, unlocked my car and pushed him in.  He chuckled indulgently and slid into the driver's seat. 

"I think I should drive?" he assumed.  

I sighed languidly, "By all means."  

He drove to my apartment and in the interim we spoke little, just listening to the radio in comfortable silence.  I had to adjust my breathing just to have him in this close proximity.  He smelled wonderful, he looked illegally delicious.  I felt wet and open, as every erogenous zone in my body thrummed and pulsed erotically.  Suddenly I was unsure I had done the right thing.  He was going to find out unequivocally just how much I was under his spell. As if reading my mind, he looked over at me with his hooded eyes, took my hand, kissed my palm and smiled enigmatically. 

When we arrived, I gave him my keys and let him open the door.  He stood aside leisurely to let me in first.  I was so relieved I had tidied the place earlier.  It looked lived in but not chaotic, as was often the case.  It was a big studio apartment with a huge living area, small modern minimalistic kitchen area, and a large cozy sleep area which I cordoned off with oriental silk screens and sexy pearly pink dim lighting. 

It had wonderful book cases along two walls and a huge fireplace on the other wall.  I adored the fact that it had a splendid view of the ocean, which I had paid extra for.  It was more than worth the price.  I was very comfortable here - I hoped he would be, too -- for as long as he chose to be there.

He looked around briefly and turned to face me, holding my hand casually, and drew me closer to him, "I am honored that you invited me to your home, Carol. I admit I have been curious about where you live for some time.  Perhaps tonight we shall come to know each other a little more than just on a pedestrian level?"

Well...   That was plain enough.

We stood in front of the fireplace facing out at the ocean.  He drew me into his arms and kissed me again, drawing my lips, one at a time, into his mouth with soft supple sucking motions.  He was unhurried, completely confident and in totally in control as his sweet tongue swept across the seam of my lips requesting entry, then plunged deeper, opening them to him.  He seemed to desire physical contact and closeness, as if he had been lonely for too long.  He tasted and slowly, intricately explored and savored every surface and crevice, as if seeking to discover who I was by intimately learning  the contours of my mouth. 

My pulse pounded in my ears.  I kissed him back hungrily, leaning into him and sweeping his lower lip into my mouth, making small noises of incredulity at this turn of events. I felt his hands slide down my back and he pressed my buttocks into his groin very gently where substantial evidence of his arousal pushed against my pubic bone. He shifted his head and kissed down my throat - small wet butterfly kisses, and sucked in mouthfuls of the flesh at my collarbone, which unhinged my knees.  My eyes closed and I drowned in his mouth - so in command - so gentle.  I actually swooned, that's the only word for it.  My knees went and I oozed against him, boneless.  My arms went up around the proud column of his neck and I clung to him. 

He broke the kiss slowly, smiling into my half-closed eyes as he supported my weight in his arms, lest I melt to the ground in my legless state.

"I think we have established that we need to become much better acquainted.  Do you agree?"

"God, Max, yes."  I touched his beautiful lightly bearded face in awe, tracing it with tremulous fingertips.

I took his hands in mine, and broke briefly from his embrace.  I turned on some music, Leonard Cohen, and composing myself lest I appear too eager, (too late), I gave him the quick turn-around-once-and-you've seen-it-all tour of my spacious but compact apartment.  I then went to the liquor cabinet to find promised bottle of spirits.  When I produced the bottle of imported cognac his eyebrows drew down into a straight line as he studied the label appreciatively.

"Ah, an import - good choice.  I always suspected you knew the right and proper way to do things!"  he said approvingly.

I laughed, ridiculously delighted, and turned into the kitchen to get us snifters.  He followed me, bottle in hand, and slid up onto the counter to watch my every move.  It was disconcerting to say the least.  He had a secretive smile around his lips as he filled both glasses and handed me one, saying,

"Here's to you, Carol!  Congratulations on your new position.  I'm sure you will excel and be very happy.  Let us celebrate this auspicious event!". 

I bowed in gratitude, clinked glasses with him and looked down, suddenly feeling shy.  

He whispered, tipped my chin up with his index finger and said, 

"Look at me."

I looked, compelled by his voice - so resonant, whiskey with honey, deep and gentle.  My gaze was on his perfect mouth as he spoke.  I was loose and comfy with other men I had met at the various places I'd been,  but Max -- he was --- so different --- and  for reasons unknown to me I didn't delve into my psyche to ask why I had such an  automatic hands-off reaction to him.  He was, after all, a man - and I didn't usually have a problem relating to the opposite sex unless of course I met someone who so totally devastated me I knew with certainty I was in eminent danger of being scorched to ashes like the proverbial phoenix without the benefit of morphing back up out of the destruction.  This always enticed me  ...  mystery, danger, animal magnetism, annihilation, very seductive.  And Max seduced me.  Oh yes, I was completely smitten and I knew he knew it. 

His long fingers smoothed around the rim of his glass as he spoke. He raised his glass again and asked,  "So what's the name of your new employ?" 

I told him the name of the company and the smallest flicker of recognition or surprise came over his face, which he instantly hid.  He nodded, took another sip and continued his gentle interrogation. 

"I wondered if perhaps I had done something to displease you over these past weeks, Carol.  We talked often and yet you seemed hesitant to engage in anything but surface conversation. You never asked me questions about myself - odd for a woman who is interested in a man, and you seemed to be interested in me ..."

"Was?  I am interested in you, Max!  Very interested!"  I found myself stumbling through an explanation.  

"But ... I respect you so much.  I felt maybe I was too drawn to you ....that maybe you didn't want that.   I was hesitant - I admit it  ... I felt a little unworthy of your attention, you know?  You are so -- so -- I don't know.... different ... powerful ... noble.  You carry an air of command about you like a cloak.  Maybe I was - am - a little intimidated..." 

"I'm just me, Carol - and do you not feel you are yourself a cut above the norm?"  I shook my head.  

"Then you don't see what I see.  You are beauty, elegance, tenderness, intelligence and caring.  I am merely a man, drawn to the warmth of your unique glow." 

I swallowed with difficulty, my discomfort evident.  God, he was eloquent. 

"Well ... thank you, Max...I'm really .. I'm flattered..." I intoned quietly.

He chuckled in amusement at my nervousness and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.  Taking my hand, he drew us to the sofa with our drinks so we could continue to talk. 

On an impulse, because he made me feel I might, I decided to go out on a limb and tell him why I had treated him in the 'gee-you're-so-nice-but-no-thanks' way I had done.  He stroked my arm and the fingers of my hand as I talked, giving me his full disquieting focus.

"To be honest, Max, you intrigue me to the point of distraction.  You seem to be so often far away, in another place - in another time, innately sad and not in touch with this world.  Though I wanted to somehow comfort the sadness I saw in you, I felt it would have been an intrusion to pry and ask why you seemed so remote.  I never wanted to invade your privacy - I was happy just feeling you had granted me entrance into your attention enough that I could speak to you in comfortable familiarity, enjoy a drink or a dance with you, a conversation, without making you feel you needed to pour out your life story to me if you chose not to.  I wanted to get close to you without making you feel you had conceal things from me, so I didn't ask.  Not because I wasn't interested, dear Max, on the contrary, I am avidly interested. "

My fumbling words seemed to reach him and he slowly drew me into his arms, then onto his lap, murmuring softly in appreciation of my concern for his personal space and hidden secrets.  He stroked his thumb down my cheek softly and seemed genuinely touched that I would have such solicitude for his privacy and feelings.  In truth I wanted to know everything and I had the uncanny sense that some day I would get full disclosure, but not yet - not yet. 

Maybe I should have just been grateful he chose to be with me that night and I shouldn't press for more.  It felt right, and gradually I relaxed in the power of his presence.  His gentleness made me feel safe - as if I was the only woman in the world and he was interested.  The cognac was working beautifully.  Max sipped his drink and asked me if there was anything I wanted to ask him. 

"No, Max ...If you want to tell me something, you will.  God ... I didn't mean to say as much as I did.  I'm just assertive enough to tell you I am interested in you - very attracted to you - because you made me feel I could be that direct.  I hope you don't regret it."

He smiled and shook his head.  "You were not wrong, Carol.  I want you to know you can tell me anything about what you may want from me, and you can ask me anything.  If I can answer you, I will, in full truth.  If I can't, I pray you will be patient with me until I can.  I have my reasons and I have lived a bit longer than you, so maybe my experiences can help you in some way if you need me.  You have but to ask." 

Satisfied, I snuggled into his embrace and purred into his wonderful neck.  When we weren't lost in our mutual admiration and evaluation of one another, we continued to mesh into closer empathy.  I reached up and ran my fingers through the silk of his hair then and saw his eyes pin me and pull me in.  I hesitated at that point, afraid of moving too fast, and got up to go to the kitchen to find us something to nibble on.  Too much of Max too soon was more than I was prepared to take on.  I noticed he tensed when I moved off him. 

He followed me as we talked.  I moved back and forth across the Spanish tiles of the kitchen floor, my boots making small tapping sounds as I hunted in the refrigerator for fruit, cheese, dip, crackers, whatever I could find.  There was a comfortable atmosphere of intimacy between us, though neither of us spoke of our heated exchange just awhile ago.  He leaned back against the cupboards, arms folded, content to watch me move about the kitchen in my well worn body-hugging blue jeans, dark blue roll neck cashmere sweater and low boots.   When I spoke he studied the movement of my lips, I observed, more than he seemed to listen to what I was saying.  He toyed with the curling end of a piece of my hair.  I was in a blissful haze; it was the most freeing electrifying experience I could ever remember having.   Every time he crossed my field of vision I felt, rather than saw, a flare of light behind my eyes, like a flashbulb.  I wondered if he could see it too.

As we snacked on brie and crackers, I lit a pair of large pillar candles on the coffee table, releasing a soft sandalwood scent into the air.  We relaxed on the buttery leather sofa in front of the fireplace and talked for a long time, sipping our drinks, sharing our thoughts like old friends, affectionately almost absently, touching, stroking one another. 

It was now very dark outside and I looked up to see a full moon shining into the cathedral windows facing the ocean, splashing onto the hardwood floor of the living room and creating a pool of silvery light in front of the sofa.  There was a long quiet lull and we sat listening reflectively to the stereo.  The logs in the fireplace crackled suddenly and I stood up as if on cue.  I sipped the last of the cognac in my glass and turned around to look at him, still sitting on the sofa.  I stared directly into his eyes, wanting him to stay with me, but thinking that this then must be the end of a lovely evening.  He studied me questioningly.   After what seemed an eternity I said softly, seriously,

"Perhaps you want to leave now, Max." 

He stared at me for a long moment, as if mesmerized.  A sudden shudder ran the length of my arms.  He flinched as if he felt it.  He stood up without taking his eyes from mine and took a step toward me, watching as my eyes enlarged at his approach. 

He came right up into my face, kissed my cheek and breathed, 

"I don't want to go just yet."  My heart soared with elation.  

He raised his glass, a smile inside his eyes.  "Maybe one more?"  

I nodded and moved trancelike toward the coffee table where I had left the decanter.

"Of course." I said in a whisper, picked up the crystal bottle, and walked toward him, my eyes on his exquisite face.  Surprisingly, my hand was steady as I refreshed both our glasses, thankful for the warmth the liquor generated in my blood.  I was on edge with a wild anticipation - heady, carefree, impulsive.  I had the sudden desire to throw myself into his arms.  I desperately wanted to feel his arms around me again, to lose myself in the deep, hot sweetness of his mouth.   

"One night with you, Max."   I thought.  "Just give me one night."

He could see none of this abandon as he watched me; but I sensed he could feel the  palpable passion in the air between us.  My proximity as I raised the decanter seemed to make his breath catch; he breathed in the scent of my hair as I poured the cognac into his glass.  The smell of sandalwood in the air, the fruity smell of the cognac on our breath, the easy afterglow of our casually intimate conversation and affection...  all served to create an ambiance of potent chemistry we were unable to ignore.  He made no attempt to conceal the swollen bulge in his jeans.  I kept my eyes on his, both of us afraid the other would do or say something that would ruin this magical moment.

I kind of backed away then, placing the decanter on the table, unsure of what was to follow.

"I know why I invited you." I ventured cautiously, "But why are you really here, Max?"  .  

His green eyes looked into mine as he slowly shook his head, no sound from him except his deep, controlled breathing.  He tossed down his drink in one swallow, put his glass on the mantelpiece, and took two long strides in my direction.  His voice was hoarse when he spoke. 

"Why am I here?  You mean besides celebrating the good fortune of your new position?   Surely you know, Carol.  I don't get to see you very often at the Rook and I admit I had come to the point where I've looked for you whenever I'm there.  I've thought of you much since you happened on the scene, and now I know I am not alone.  You've thought of me too.  You have cared enough to invite me - and I am here.  Like you, I feel we have known each other before and I want to know more."

Well, if this was meant to be a one night stand, it was going to be a scorcher.

He tilted his head to one side, speculatively. 

"Tell me this, then, do you kiss everyone the way you kissed me tonight?"  His breath was hot on my face.     

I struggled to find the proper denial, the suitable words; my lips trembled as I attempted to explain.  This had become way too heavy ... too  real...   We were, after all, so different within our mutual attraction.  My brain flat lined.   

He bent over me then and I opened my mouth to speak silent words.  I fell into his arms, which immediately closed around me.  Our mouths fused together.  His was a soft, insistent inferno, his tongue gently probing and tasting me.  I wound my arms around his neck, drowning in him. 

"Oh, God..." I groaned into his mouth as I leaned into him.  I could hear him talking as he kissed me.  

"Is this the way you kiss everyone, Carol?   Is that all there was to that kiss in the car park then?  Tell me that's all it was, because I really need convincing..." 

I submissively drank him in, my knees buckling under the onslaught of his passion.  The heat of his kiss consumed me as, suddenly, he swept me up off the ground into his arms and walked with me to my bed.  He sat there with me in his lap, never taking his mouth from mine.  I clung to him,  breathed raggedly into his mouth, 

"Max ... What are you doing?"

"What we both want."

Ok - so much for artless guesswork.  He was right.  We were friends ... friends who were going to fuck.

He chuckled indulgently at me, brushing the hair off my neck as he kissed it, finding amusement in my uncertainty.  He moaned and in one smooth motion, gathered me up and laid me backward onto the bed, pressing his body closely over me.  My mind ceased to function; I allowed my senses to take over. 

We reveled in each other's bodies.  His hands ran hotly, purposefully, all over me, pushing up my shirt so he could feel the texture of my skin against his chest.  Lowering his lips to my demandingly erect nipples, he sucked them gently, nibbling and bringing them to painful peaks of want.  My skin was hot, as I moaned piteously, arching my back, burying my hands in his hair.  I pushed mightily against him, forcing him up off me as I scanned his beautiful face, searching his eyes for answers to this mutually passionate exchange. 

He looked alarmed, thinking I was pulling away, and tried to stop me.  I sat up and pushed his sweater over his head, massaging and kissing his beautiful chest, nipping his nipples, then I pushed him down onto the bed and lowered my head to his crotch, breathing in his wonderful masculine scent. He made constricted sounds in his throat as my hair brushed his bare skin maddening him with pleasure.  My fingers struggled with the button fly of his jeans as I attempted to free his straining erect phallus from its confines. I pulled out his thick long penis, stroking it lovingly, licking the pearls of pre-cum from his slit.  He hissed in pleasure and forced me back down onto the bed and attempted to remove my jeans, but they were tight and resisted his efforts.  I eagerly assisted him to free me from my clothing as he looked on in awe.     

He kissed me again, slowly, deeply, lowering himself on top of me.  He said he marveled at the sleekness of my body under him, the way it fit his so perfectly, the rise of my pelvic bones, the soft mound of my curls against the hardness of his throbbing cock.  In his arms I felt fragile but strong.  I gasped when I felt his fingers part the wet folds of my sex, circling my strumming clit.  He slowly inserted two long thick fingers into my drenched sheath and I writhed against his hand in an agony of euphoria. 

"I need to taste you," he said hoarsely.  "I must  ..."  he trailed off as he kissed his way down my heaving torso, and nuzzling my crevice, he pushed his nose into me and breathed in my perfume, lapping my sensitive clit, stabbing me with his tongue, drinking in my moisture.  He groaned and placed himself at the entrance to my core, gently stroking and lubricating himself with my fiery wetness and his own leaking pearls of pre cum.  I kept rising to meet him but he would hold back and tease me with gentle incomplete penetrations, rubbing the satiny head of his cock against my screaming bud of nerves until I was whimpering with need, begging.  Then, with a sudden gentle thrust he was inside me to his root, my walls squeezing around him like a vise.  I made an ecstatic cry, and abandoned myself totally to being possessed by him. 

I couldn't remember experiencing such waves of pure eroticism.  I wanted him inside me forever.  He was stroking deeply, carrying me into unknown waters, and I felt myself going quickly over the shuddering edge of madness.  As he began to move rhythmically, sinking into me in steady strokes, I responded by tightening my walls around him, squeezing and milking him.  My eyes filled with tears, my parted lips formed soundless words.  He pulled out and sank back into me again and again, heightening the pleasure that suddenly had me coming in shuddering waves, as I called his name.  He growled out his coming between kisses, and wracked with the spasms of my climax, I felt him tremble with the force of his own release.  I came again as with powerful pulsing jets; he poured torrents of hot seed into me. 

He continued to move in me, still hard, rocking gently, bringing us down slowly.  I cradled his silken head and stroked his face as I looked at him, seeing him as if for the first time, as if he was a stranger to me.  In a way he had been a stranger; I never felt such things at his hands, or anyone's hands before.   He was smiling, quiet, kissed me slowly, and fell into a sated, spent slumber on top of me.  I stroked his face, hair and neck, kissing him softly and murmuring, "Max, my beautiful gentle lover. Thank you." 

I knew in the morning he would be gone. I knew we weren't beginning a lasting romance, but I felt supremely happy that we had made the intimate and deep connection we had forged last night.  I also knew I would see him again.

At my new job I met many friends, chief among them being Uma and it was in this way that I came to be introduced by her to the Pub and all its patrons.  It quickly became my new favorite place to go for a drink and some lively friendly conversation.  I also learned the secret of the Come On Inn and it's intriguing patronage.  I stayed away from King's Rook after that night with Max, deciding to give us some space to consider what had transpired between us.  He had not called or come to my apartment after that so I figured he was looking for some space also.  We knew we were mutually attracted and if he wanted to pursue it he would have to let me know.  I would not chase him.  He meant too much to me to jeopardize what might be potentially a beautiful affair.  I let it rest.

A few nights later, restless and excited, I popped cheerily into the Pub and looked around for familiar faces.  I sauntered up to the bar to chat with Uma.  She looked a trifle pale and I commented on this but she brushed it off saying she was just getting a cold.  I smiled at Bud who nodded and grinned a friendly greeting, offering to buy me a drink, which I accepted.  Since arriving in this world at the Pub I had been reveling in my new found friendships and enjoying flirtations with almost all the men, tart that I am.

What's shakin', beautiful? Bud asked breezily, for him.  Very good mood.  Marie must be around here somewhere.  I told him I was just ducky and asked how he was doing. 

"Fuckin' awesome." was his exact response.  

I thought, what a wonderful thing to be able to say - that everything was 'fuckin' awesome.'   I needed some of that.  Everything was fine - but I was a quart low on   fuckin' awesome.

There appeared to be more singles than couples in the place this night.  It was a strange dynamic - different - more sedate.  Was everyone feeling off center or was I just being reactionary?  I sipped the white wine Bud had so generously treated me to and continued to look around not unlike a nosy tourist in a new locale.  Someone was playing Sade on the jukebox and her smoky voice added to the ambiance - very sensuous. 

It was at this time I had taken my drink to a corner booth to chat with Ann when I glanced up at the bar and saw Zack sitting there in all his rough hewn glory.  I openly stared and begged Ann to tell me who he was.  She did more than that, she introduced me, dragging me over to the bar by the hand.  He was devastating - pure alpha male, serious in demeanor, but with smilingly direct eyes, and resonated with unadulterated sex appeal.  I was his at hello and went to work using my wiles to interest, pique his curiosity, whet his appetite and basically seduce him into my web.

We had fun that night, dancing, flirting, and engaged in silly banter about fruit and its erotic shapes, tastes and textures in a most provocative exchange of sexual innuendo.  I took him to a nearby art gallery to see a salacious Georgia O'Keefe exhibit and opened his eyes to the erotic and sensual shapes of flowers and fruit from the standpoint of art.  He was fascinated by what he saw and, apparently, by me.  I was in heaven.  Zack was playful, sexually quick on the uptake and never gave me the feeling he had any hidden agenda other than letting me maneuver closer to him.  We got 'close' rather quickly and discovered how mutually drawn to one another we really were. 

I happily wrapped Zack up in my loving cocoon and soon he was living with me in harmonious, mutually passionate bliss.  I adored him and could not remember ever being more enchanted in my life.  He was handsome, beautiful, loving, strong, virile, intense, bossy, passionate, funny, obstinate, adorable, impossible and everything I ever wanted - the whole package.  

One night after the wacky good times on Halloween at the Pub we were sitting at the bar talking with Uma and other at the bar, enjoying our pints and relaxing among our friends. 

My eyes wandered around curiously, checking out who all was there. I looked down to the back of the room and there he was ... sitting at the last table in the corner, his back to the bar, alone ...  Himself, the Gladiator.  I admit my heart leapt in my chest.  I had missed him.  I knew now who he was among the brothers and wondered if and when I would see him here at the Pub.  The thought of it had given me pause on many occasions.  Not that I had anything to hide from Zack.  What happened between Max and me had occurred long before I met him.  He wouldn't be upset, would he?  Would any man not feel intimidated in comparison to him?   God, what to do - acknowledge Max? - ignore him?  No. How could I ignore such an integral part of the 'family'?    I looked nervously at Zack who didn't appear to be aware of my conflict, chatting animatedly with Terry. 

I slid off my stool and told Zack I was going to play darts for a bit if I could scare up anyone's interest.  He ran his hand through my hair and said, "Go for it, baby."  I looked down cautiously at the tiny pinpoint of a scar in my wrist from the last time I played darts.  It barely showed and no one would notice it, but I knew what it meant.

I picked up my drink and slowly approached Max from behind.  He had his head down, reading some huge tome.  I heard he often sat at the bar or at a booth, pouring studiously over ancient historical books.  I kept my voice soft so as not to startle him.

"Hi, General.  How are you tonight?"

His eyes flew to my face, sea green pools, wide with unexpected recognition and a touch of astonishment.  He inhaled a slow breath and smiled warmly, inviting me to sit with a sweep of his hand toward the chair opposite him.  I sat slowly, my eyes locked onto his, as if expecting him to withdraw the invitation.  I was close to being hypnotized by his steady gaze before I finally blurted out. 

"What are you so engrossed in - history books?  Is Uma supplying you with all these?"  I smiled to let him know I was attempting to be humorous, not invasive.       

"How are you, love?" he smiled softly.  "You look incredible.  Zack making you happy?"  

He picked up his beer and sipped it, his eyes kept their focus on mine.

"Maximus -- I haven't seen you here before, though I knew I would at some point, since I now know who you are.  How are you, my dear friend?"

"Well, thank you, very well.  Working quite a bit more than I'd like, but fine.  And you? If looks mean anything, you look lovely - serene and fulfilled."

"Thanks, Max.  I am.  I really am."

An uncomfortable silence followed this exchange and I sipped my wine, grateful I had somewhere to put my eyes besides on his.  I wanted to ask him if our one night stand would affect any friendship we had, but I didn't know how to verbalize this.  By not seeking him out after that night, maybe I had unintentionally given him the impression I had no further desire to deepen our acquaintance.  Nothing could have been further from the truth; I just knew he was searching, I was searching, and for the moment we had found one another and it had been beautiful.  My eyes sought his again and we stared wordlessly at each other for a long moment.

He put his chin in his hand, observing me closely, reading my mind.  "It was what we both wanted, Carol.  We knew we were destined somehow to touch one another and I do not regret it.  Do you?" he asked softly

"God no, Max .. I don't....  Thank you...."

"For what?"

"For being who you are.  I cherish that night and I hope we can remain friends as before."

"We always have been friends and we always will be." he murmured.

Anxious to lighten the mood, I challenged him to a game of darts.  "C'mon, Max.  You've had your nose in the books long enough.  Play a game of darts with me."

He looked shocked.  "Are you a glutton for punishment?  Don't you remember what happened last time I played darts?"

I laughed.  "Well, yeah!  But what are the odds of that happening again?"

He shrugged, closed his books, grabbed his beer and we walked to the dart board, chasing away Jeff and East who had been usurping it for too long. 

If any one had been watching us, I suppose, in retrospect, it would have looked like Max and I were deep in conspiratorial conversation, shutting out the rest of room and having eyes only for each other.  However, it was just our pre-forged friendship and mutually genuine affection that was on display.  We playfully threw darts at the board, not caring who was winning,  exchanged warm banter as we sipped our drinks and got 'reacquainted' but in a totally different manner.  I was having such fun I kind of lost track of time.

I looked over at the bar where Zack was still sitting and his expression spoke volumes.  I knew in my soul he had misread this exchange between Max and me.  His beautiful eyes were intense, bruised and full of rage.  He stuck his cigarette in the corner of his mouth, grabbed his leather jacket, threw some money on the bar and stormed out of the Pub.  He never said goodbye, or even looked at me. 

My heart raced madly in my chest and Max looked uncomfortable, though he had done nothing wrong. I longed to fly out after him but I stayed at the Pub knowing he would need time to calm down and I would need time to bolster the strength to tell him what had transpired between Max and me, why we were looking at each other with such intimate familiarity and apparent affection.  I shook my head sadly at Max and he brought me by the arm to the bar, ordering me a vodka on the rocks.

"He'll be ok, love.  Just give him some time," he reasoned quietly.  "You'll sort it out, have no fear."

But I did worry - I panicked.  Nobody really knew how deeply Zack was affected by his emotions; which is why he kept them so well hidden.  He could be brash and brusque and rude and crude with ease.  His tender feelings - his deeply romantic nature was carefully camouflaged.  God how I loved him!  I prayed he would let me explain and not be too wounded or too enraged to hear me.

I headed home shortly after drinking my scotch.  I had been unable to concentrate on anything but the horribly wounded look in Zack's eyes and the fury behind the hurt.  I had to find him and soon; I hoped he had not gone to another club drinking, but had chosen to gone home.

I drove home, weeping frightened tears, and let myself into the apartment quietly.  It was in darkness - no light but the street lights and the moon on the water.  He was sitting alone on the sofa, still in his jacket, his hair ruffled no doubt by continually running his hands through it, cigarette in one hand, balancing a bottle of beer on his other knee.  He was staring out the bay window, watching the hypnotic movements of the sea in the moonlight with a look of utter despair on his handsome face. 

He didn't look up when I approached him.  My heart broke for his suffering, because I knew he was in torment.  He thought Max and I had been flirting, maybe more, and that I apparently could be swayed by any one of the brothers in the blink of an eye.  I was not to be trusted anymore.

For the first time, I was afraid - of him.  "Zack .. baby ... are you ok?"

He looked at me then with ironic disgust and turned his face back to the window.  

I took a step closer.  "Zack - what exactly have I done?  Why are you so upset with me?"

"You fucked Maximus, didn't you?" It came out hard and fast.

He knew that just by watching our conversation and dart game?  Were we that obvious?  What did I reveal to him that I had not revealed to myself? 

My nerves were jumping; I was trembling as I approached him slowly, cautiously.  The last thing I wanted was for him to get up and suddenly leave.  When he made no move to bolt, I came closer and leaned over him, putting my hands on his knees and knelt in front of him.  He continued to stare out the window with an implacable expression on his face.

I took the beer from his hand and took a sip and gave it back to him.  He put it aside.  My voice was a hoarse croak, "Zack, please, sweetheart, look at me.  I feel like you hate me." 

"Maybe I do."

"Why, Zack?  I need to explain to you.  You don't know this but I met Max before I met you - before I knew anything about the brothers and your unique relationship.  We met at a small club near here and got acquainted over a period of weeks.  I invited him here one night to help me celebrate my new job and one thing led to another and we ended up in bed.

"He slept in your bed?  In our bed?"  His eyes were wretched, so afraid to reveal his insecurity.

"It wasn't our bed then, Zack.  I hadn't met you yet, remember?"

"So what happened?"

At least he was willing to hear me out.  

"Nothing, we were just two people alone and lonely and we enjoyed each other's company and it led to a night of sex.  It happened once.  I have not seen him since, until I saw him at the Pub tonight."

"And tonight you were salivating over him like one of Pavlov's dogs."

"I was not."

"You didn't see what I saw, Carol.  You fuckin' drooled.  You looked like you could fuck him right there on the floor."

I shook my head in disagreement, reaching up to brush his silky hair off his forehead.  He brushed my hand aside. 

"You are misinterpreting what you saw, Zack.  You're grossly exaggerating and you know it.  What you saw was two people who knew each other before, still liked each other and were simply happy to see each other."

"I'll fuckin bet you were.  Was he good?  Did the General do it for ya?"

Tears welled up in my eyes then, my heart was breaking.  He was so unrelenting.  

"Zack, don't.  Please, baby - don't do that - don't say that.  What you saw was not a reliving of a sexual experience.  It was just a friendly hello to someone I know.  He is a friend, not a lover and he is no way a threat to you or to us.  Since the moment I laid eyes on you, Zack, no other man has existed for me.  Don't you know that?  I love you more than I can say, baby, you are my heart."

I crawled up onto his lap gently and held his face in my hands, searching his eyes.  He looked daggers at me. 

"Zack, why don't you believe me?  Haven't you been with other sisters?  I know you have. I'm not bothered by that because I know you haven't been with anyone since you met me.  Why should this be any different?"

"I don't know.  It just is."

I refused to be deterred by the storm in his eyes and gently placed soft licking kisses all around the closed seam of his lips until he gradually thawed and opened to me.  He sucked my mouth into his with fevered desperation, thrusting his tongue into my mouth then sighed into my hair, wrapping his arms around me tightly. 

"I couldn't take it if you're lying to me, Carol.  If you're still hot for Max, I need to know."

"I'm hot for you, Zack.  For you. Only you." 

I kissed his eyes, nose, cheeks, neck - soft nibbling mouthfuls of him.  

"Zack, I love you.  I want you.  Please, believe me.  There isn't - there couldn't be anyone else."

He relented fully then and breathed into my mouth before circling my tongue with his own and sucking hungrily on my lips.  He hugged me tightly into his chest and rocked back and forth. 

"I can't lose again, Carol.  I can't lose this." 

"Lose me?  I adore you!  How could you lose me?" 

"Some of these bastards are pretty convincing."

"Not as much as you are, my love.  You do it for me like no one else ever has or ever will." 

As I talked I undressed him slowly, unbuttoning, unzipping, luxuriating in the feel of his warm smooth flesh under my mouth and hands.  He relaxed against the back of the sofa, closed his eyes, and let me have my way with him, willing and eager to be convinced. 

I kissed up mouthfuls of his proud neck, licking up under his beard.  I took an earlobe in my hot mouth then kissed slowly, wetly, across his nipples, nipping gently 'til he hissed, then down the furry line of his chest hair toward his crotch.  He hitched his hips forward in ready anticipation of my journey's goal.  I sank to floor between his knees, and reached inside his already unzipped fly for his beautiful hard cock, freeing it from the confines of his jeans.  I nuzzled into him reverently.  He sighed and threw his head back, his hands in my hair.  I ran my tongue up, down and around his satin over steel length and width, licked up the pearls of moisture that oozed from his slit, and felt tears run down my cheeks.    

"My Zack.  My only love.  How could you doubt me?"  I took him fully into my mouth and laved him from dripping tip to root with my adoring tongue.  He reached down before I could bring him too far along and lifted me up, slipping my jeans down my legs, holding me as I kicked out of my boots, then pushed my legs apart and drew me down onto his lap to straddle him.  With a thigh on either side of his legs, I hovered over the bobbing head of his engorged shaft and tickled myself with it, coating it with my wetness until we were panting deliriously with want. 

"Je-e-s-s-u-s!  Yes!  Please, baby ... sit on me.... take me in....now, Carol.  O-h-h, mother fu-u-ck!"

Looking directly into his eyes, I sank onto him with intentional slow motion until he was breathing raggedly, until he was fully seated in me to his root, incredulous once more at how completely he filled me.  His heat permeated my insides and I felt him pulsing and thrumming with his coming need.  I slowly raised and lowered myself with his hands on my hips to guide me.  He was murmuring incoherently,

"Oh god yeah, fuck! yeah, m-m-m-m ...."

I was mindless with needing him, crying and mewling in ecstatic bliss.  

"Zack, more, baby, more, harder, yeah-h-h .... o-h-h-h, God, I love you so much.  So much.  Don't ever doubt that my darling, don't ever ..... O-h-h-h!  My. God......"

I sunk against his neck as I came, leaning into his chest, burying his head in my hair, covering him completely.  He shook intently with the power of his release as he shot jets of hot seed into me, filling me until it spilled out in excess onto our thighs.  

He collapsed back onto the sofa, my hair streaming from his face as he gasped for air.  "I love you," he breathed into my neck.  "I love you, Carol.  Don't scare me like that again or I might have to get rough with you."

"Yeah, tough guy .. rough...." I giggled, kissing his nipples.  "Promises, promises..."