 
The Legacy of Hatred

M.N Providence

Published by M.N Providence at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 M.N Providence

PROLOGUE

End of February, 2002

A great day to die.

A beautiful day on which to die. Cloudless sky. A slight breeze coming from the north. Temperatures not so bad. A cool, lovely, dry day. No heat, unsurprisingly for this time of the year for New York. Pity about the traffic though. No telling where all these people are going. It's only a few minutes after midday.

Again the traffic light went red and I brought the car to a stop behind five cars ahead of me. The last time I'd moved they'd been seven. At the rate traffic was moving there was a high chance the light would go to green and back to red before I went through. I sighed; there was no hurry. A man is in no hurry on his last day on earth.

I leaned forward and pressed a button. The hood of the car went back and down in three seconds flat, revealing the true beauty of the Mercedes Benz SL600, with its red nappa leather seats standing out exquisitely in its wonderful interior. I pressed another button. Rap music came loud from the speakers. Wanted to change the station but decided against that thought; all of them seemed to play rap music these days. Every new song that made it to the top of the charts was Rap or had some Rap lyrics in it. Even die-hard haters of that genre like myself were beginning to like it. I could recite lyrics of some of the songs, all often heard while driving to and from work.

I turned my head to the right, somebody's gaze on me finally having worked its chemistry into my psyche. It was a brunette behind the wheel of a small Ford. She flashed me a smile and licked at her lips seductively with the tip of her tongue, and then she blew me kiss. I smiled back at her. The SL drew all sorts of reactions from people. Men loved it and hated its driver. Women loved it and its driver. If he could drive a beauty like that he had to have a large bank account...

The light went green and the cars started moving slowly forward. I made it through the lights this time. I drove on for a few more minutes before turning onto a lane towards my apartment. I saw an ice-cream vendor and stopped the car. I cut the engine dead and got out. I crossed the few feet to the vendor, not caring a bit that I had parked the SL in a NO-PARKING zone. I really didn't give a shit what a traffic officer might do to me or the car. The City of New York might confiscate the car for all I cared.

I bought myself a big-cone nut-flavored ice-cream and left all the change to the vendor. When I returned to the Merc, I found a blonde staring at it with wide-open eyes. She didn't move when I opened the door and slid in.

'You got a nice car, Mister,' she cooed.

I smiled my thanks at her.

'Wanna take me for a ride?' she purred.

I looked up at her. Big tits; spilling out of her small string top. Too much red-cherry lip-stick on her full, voluptuous lips. Wouldn't hurt to have an afternoon shag with that marvelous body...

I shook my head. 'Maybe some other time,' I told her and quickly drove off. I looked in the mirror and saw her giving me the finger. Maybe she was right; I was being an asshole, but I really was too down to care. Not even the great body of a hot blonde could pull me out of my melancholic thoughts.

I got to the apartment and headed straight for the bathroom. I opened a glass closet and pulled out a small box of sleeping tablets. I threw two into my mouth and swallowed. The bitter taste rasped down my throat.

I returned the box to the closet and made my way to the living room. I crossed to the bar and poured myself a martini. I took a long pull of the drink and slowly walked to the bedroom. I placed the martini upon the bedside table and sat down on the bed. I picked up the remote and when I pressed one of its buttons the curtains slid open. Then I kicked the shoes off my feet and lay on the bed, my back resting on the head-board. I took a swig at my drink.

Don't they say it's dangerous to mix liquor with sleeping pills? It may be; but who cares? I am going to die anyway. After the events of the past few months, culminating in the betrayal by my own father, together with the one woman I would have married, it doesn't matter anymore.

My father, the only man I respected and trusted with my life, doing such a thing to me. But maybe it was all for the good. Clarissa was an evil bitch.

I shook my head ruefully and gulped down the rest of the martini. It was a very rough time for me. Made me miss Uncle Giovanno. And Jessica Gauld. Really, truly miss her. I wonder where she is...

I dozed off.

Part 1

Chapter 1

1980

He came silently through the gate.

Brett, my elder brother, saw him first.

'Uncle Gio! Uncle Gio!' he yelled, sprinting towards him.

I followed Brett in a run and we slammed into Uncle Gio, almost knocking him over. Some of the large boxes he was carrying fell down as he tried to keep his hold on them and embrace us at the same time. Wayne, my little brother, came last, and the four of us became one crazy human ball as we embraced Uncle Gio elatedly.

A moment later we let go of him and picked the boxes from the ground. When we turned towards the house Mom and Dad were standing on the front porch, watching us in amusement. Uncle Gio walked up to Mom, kissed her hand and then brushed a kiss against her mouth. He turned and smacked kisses on both sides of Dad's cheeks, Italian style. We were now used to that ritual greeting.

'Roberto, how are you? And Prisca?' Uncle Gio asked my parents but before they could answer he had turned to us.

'And how are my three best boys doing?' he asked and continued without waiting for an answer. 'Look, I brought you birthday presents.' He smiled, but his eyes were not smiling. His eyes always wore a sinister look. We were used to it.

'But Uncle Gio, it's nobody's birthday,' Wayne said with a frown.

'No?' Uncle Gio quizzed, frisking Wayne's hair with his hands. 'How old's Duncan?'

'I'm turning 17 in two weeks,' I responded.

Uncle Gio shrugged. 'Well, let's call it a second Christmas. Come on, open your presents.'

We eagerly tore the wrappers off the boxes. Brett got a large volume of a Law encyclopedia. He was going to Yale after the vacations. Wayne got a big remote-controlled toy airplane. I got a beautiful saddle with my initials engraved on it. D.S

Uncle Gio certainly knew how to win a boy's heart. He knew my passion for horse-riding had increased with each visit to his country estate in Texas. I loved the ranch. I couldn't wait to close schools and go there. For the last vacation I hadn't been able to go there because I had attained bad grades at school. Mom made a fuss about it and said I wouldn't go to the ranch in future unless my grades improved. Which meant a term of hard work for me. I hated studying, but when I got down to it, with Mom's keen eye, I produced good results. Results that sometimes surprised even me.

I came running home the end of the term and stuck the paper at my mother's face. I could see the proud smile creep to her face as she read my results. Then she crushed me to her body in a strong, tight embrace and showered me with kisses. I discovered then and there how destructive 10 straight As could be to a teenage boy's dignity. A 16-year-old who is just discovering his sexuality doesn't particularly embrace ideas of being hugged by his mother. Kissing makes it even worse.

'I'm going to Texas,' Uncle Gio was presently saying. 'Are my boys coming with me?'

'Yes, Uncle Gio!' Brett said quickly ahead of me. Then we remembered our parents. We turned to them with pleading eyes. 'Can we go, Mom? Dad?' the two of us asked simultaneously.

Dad nodded his approval.

'Only if you promise to be good,' said Mom. 'You boys don't get into any naughty business over there, okay?'

Uncle Gio spoke before neither one of us could respond. 'That's it, then. You guys go pack your things.'

We were starting off when we remembered Wayne, our little brother. He was just standing there, showing no signs to move.

'I'm not going, Uncle Gio,' he said in his soft voice.

Uncle Gio bent down slightly towards him. 'Why, nipote mio? Is there something wrong?'

'No, Uncle Gio,' Wayne responded. 'I'm going to be helping at church.'

'It's a lie,' Brett cut in with a taunting voice. 'Wayne's a sissy. He's afraid of the animals at the ranch.'

'I'm not!' Wayne retorted angrily, color flooding his face.

'Yes, you are,' Brett taunted.

'Stop it, you two,' Mom warned.

'If Wayne doesn't want to go, leave him be,' Uncle Gio said. He pinched Wayne's cheek playfully. 'Don't ever let anyone tell you what to do. Be your own boss, okay?'

Wayne nodded his head and smiled back.

'Be like me and your father,' Uncle Gio said, straightening up. 'Tell them, Roberto.'

My father just smiled and said nothing.

Brett and I ran to our respective bedrooms. In less than ten minutes, I had badly stuffed my bag with some clothes. On my way downstairs I met Wayne. He looked at my bag with a disapproving eye.

'Don't tell me you're going with your bag like that,' he said.

'Then I won't tell you,' I said crossly.

'Come, let me pack for you.'

'I'm in a hurry. Uncle Gio'll leave me.'

'No, he won't,' Wayne said steadily. 'He's having a drink with Dad. And Mom forced him to stay for dinner, so there's plenty of time.'

He took the bag from my hand and went up the stairs. I didn't argue with him. I followed him quietly into my room. He quickly began to pull the clothes out of the bag. I began to protest but he put up a silencing hand. 'Just let me do this,' he said calmly with that wise look of his.

The look that made you not want to argue with him. It commanded respect. When he switched it on you wanted to listen to him. Wayne had authority when he spoke to you calmly and gave you that look. Not assertive authority like Brett, but calm, gentle authority. It was many years later that I understood what it was about Wayne. Dignity. At only 15 years of age, my kid brother had dignity.

When he had finished packing the bag, he sat down on the bed. He stared at me, sitting on a stool before my piano.

'Duncan,' he called softly, almost in a whisper. 'Can I tell you something?'

'Sure.'

'But promise me first you won't tell Brett. He'll make jokes and laugh at me.'

'I promise,' I winked conspiratorially at him.

'I'm gonna be a priest,' he said quietly.

I stared at him with an expressionless face.

'I'm gonna be a priest, Duncan,' he repeated.

* * * * *

Uncle Gio stayed a few days with us at the ranch, then he had to go away to do his business. The limousine came and two guys in suits and sunglasses jumped out. That there were guns concealed under their jackets was unmistakable; the bulges were quite clear. One of the guys held the limo's door open for Uncle Gio, who first kissed Brett and goodbye before he and the bodyguard who was always present next to him got into the black limo and we watched it disappear towards the airport.

In the afternoon, I suggested riding to Brett but he declined. He wanted to finish reading a book about JFK. He was never really keen about horse-riding anyway. I went down to the stable with my saddle, which I had already tried on Mimosa, one of the horses that I had liked and adopted.

I grabbed a brush and started gently running it along Mimosa's body, talking to him softly. I did this for a few more minutes before saddling him. I climbed onto him and rode off into the forest in an easy trot.

After a short while, we broke into clear territory and I urged Mimosa into a gallop. We went like this for about a mile and then I pulled his reins, slowing the big stallion down, as this part of the forest had thick foliage.

Suddenly, Mimosa neighed uncomfortably and changed direction, ignoring my command of his reins. We broke through the foliage and I noticed why Mimosa had become excited. We had come to a river. I looked around and saw a horse that was tied to a tree. My eyes quickly scanned the area for its owner. A hairy head appeared from a groove in the river bank. Then slowly the figure rose to full view. It turned and stared at me.

I jumped off Mimosa and quickly threw one of his reins around a tree three times. I walked to the figure by the bank and when I was a few feet away my heart skipped a beat. It was a girl. From a distance, I had not noticed because of her denims. I was looking at a strikingly beautiful girl. Particularly so because she had no make-up on her, unlike the girls I was used to back in Portland.

She was holding in her hands a fishing rod. The cork of her fishing line was bobbing on the water. I stared at her face. Such a gorgeous girl fishing! Growing up in Portland had not prepared me for this. I stood amazed, staring at her emerald green eyes. The greenest eyes I had ever seen. My jaw must have dropped open, because she smiled all of a sudden. She had the sweetest smile I had ever seen on any girl.

'Hi,' she said.

I smiled back at her foolishly, not trusting my voice to speak the words I wanted to say.

'Who are you?' she questioned with a curious frown. 'I haven't seen you here before.'

Everything about her was alright. Her eyes. Her lips. Her voice. Her hair. Her figure...I found my voice but my mind froze and my mouth spoke of its own volition. 'I'm the man who's gonna marry you.'

Her cheeks flushed. I would later discover that I had mistaken her blushing for anger.

'I'm sorry,' I said quickly. 'Duncan. My name's Duncan Shelley. I'm staying at Essence.' The name of Uncle Gio's ranch.

The color disappeared from her eyes as quickly as it had appeared. 'Well, Duncan,' she said, an amused smile coming to her face. 'What makes you think I would marry a stranger like you?'

'Because I love you.'

She laughed. 'That's absurd. You don't even know me.'

'I will if you tell me your name.'

Suddenly, she glanced down at her fishing line. The cork had disappeared under the water. Quickly, she started to reel in the line. With some effort, she jerked up the rod and a fish leapt out of the water, hanging at the end of the line, wriggling vigorously. She reeled in the end of the line and grabbed hold of the fish. With a practiced motion of her hands, she got the hook out of the fish's mouth. Then she took two steps with the big bream and threw it into a bucket that was half-filled with water.

I marveled at this show of skill, which had lasted less than a minute. 'Can you teach me to do that?'

She straightened up and looked at me curiously. 'You don't know anything about fishing, Duncan?'

I loved the way she said my name. 'I was never interested in it,' I said matter-of-factly. 'But you make it look interesting.'

'Bring a fishing rod here tomorrow and I will teach you,' she said.

'Same time?'

She hummed her response. 'Uh-huh.'

'And when they ask me at home who I'm going fishing with what should I say?'

'Tell them the truth,' she said with a teasing smile. 'That you'll be fishing with a mysterious girl you met today.'

'And what's the name of this mysterious girl, my brother is sure to ask, and he won't believe my story unless it's got a name attached to it.'

She chuckled. 'It's Jessica Gauld.'

* * * * *

The following day, I asked for a fishing rod with line from Clive Davis, the caretaker of Uncle Gio's country estate. He and his wife stayed there and virtually ran all affairs on the estate, since Uncle Gio was rarely ever there. So, as usual, we were under the care of Uncle Gio and his wife.

'It's going to rain today,' Clive said, squinting his eyes up at the sky.

'Doesn't matter. I'm going fishing anyhow.' I wasn't about to let the skepticism of an old man dampen my plans.

'You won't catch anything if it starts raining,' said Clive.

'I'll take my chances,' I said with steely determination.

Clive shrugged and led the way to the shed. He gave me what I needed for my fishing expedition and after lunch I headed to the stables to fetch Mimosa.

Brett stopped me on my way. 'Can I come with you?'

'No. I want to go alone.' I wouldn't let my brother find out my secret. 'Why don't you go read your book?'

'I finished it,' Brett answered.

'Then find something else to do,' I said impatiently. 'You can't come with me,' I added, avoiding his eyes.

'You're up to something, aren't you?' A frown creased his forehead.

'And what would that be?' I feigned surprise.

He didn't answer, but his look told me he didn't believe me. Ignoring him, I climbed onto my horse and in a moment I was heading for the river. When I reached it, she had not yet arrived. I had to wait for half an hour before she arrived.

We went through the stages of shoving the hook into the bait, how to throw the line, how to read the cork movements, and the technique of reeling in the line if a fish got caught.

We made a friendly bet who was going to catch the first fish. She won that one. She yelled in excitement and I laughed with her, sharing in her joy. After what to me seemed like an hour, I had missed three fish and caught none, all those inside the bucket having been caught by Jessica. I was losing hope, especially as the sky was now overcast with thick, heavy, black clouds. We could see the rain would come any minute now.

Then it happened.

I felt the unmistakable tug at my line and looked for my cork. It was gone. I forgot all Jessica had told me and with all my strength I jerked the fishing rod up and back. The fish flew over my head and dropped with a thud a distance behind me. As if on cue, the rain started falling.

'Ya-hoo-oo,'I screamed in excitement.

Jessica clapped her hands and rejoiced with me. In that moment of crazy excitement we got into each other's arms and embraced. We both fell silent. I think we were both shocked by the powerful force of our bodies touching. Shyly, we let go of each other.

We pulled apart and went for our fishing rods. We were getting wet. When she straightened up I noticed the flush of her cheeks. She avoided my eyes. The front of her T-shirt was soaking wet and it clung to her breasts, their nipples straining against the thin cloth.

Suddenly, she ran to her horse and I watched her mount it hurriedly and ride away in an easy gallop, the wind sweeping back her jet-black hair. Slowly, I walked to Mimosa and untied his rein from the tree. I held the reins in my hands and led the way home on foot.

When I arrived at the ranch, Mrs. Davis complained about the mud that I entered into the house with. I was drenched to the bone, and shivering all over with cold. I went to the bathroom, leaving a trail of water behind me, and got out of the soaked clothes. Then I took a nice hot shower until I felt the blood return to my bones. After I had changed into something dry and warmer I descended downstairs. Mrs. Davis was ready with a steaming cup of coffee.

* * * * *

I took a long walk to the river the next day, hoping to see her. I sat there until dusk but she didn't show up. Same the next day. And the day after that.

It was while I was taking a ride on Mimosa, four days after the torrential rain, that I eventually saw her again. At a clearing in the forest. On top of her horse. Coming from the opposite direction. We approached each other and our horses stopped when we were close to each other.

'Hi. I missed you,' I told her.

She gave me that wonderful smile of hers that effortlessly took my breath away. 'I missed you too.'

'Then why have you been avoiding me?' I asked gently.

She raised her eyebrows. 'Have I?'

'I've been down at the river for the past three days waiting for you, and you never showed up.'

She laughed. 'You know what? You're very funny, Duncan.' She dug her heels into her horse's sides, urging it forward. 'Come on, let's race to that tree,' she shouted, already galloping away.

By the time I turned my horse to follow her she was already several feet away from me. I dug my heels hard into Mimosa and the bug stallion shot forward like a bullet. I was about to catch up with her when suddenly Mimosa stopped in his tracks and kicked up his front legs, neighing wildly. I was caught off guard and thrown into the air. Helplessly, I groped at air as I tumbled down towards gravity. My head struck against something hard and I blacked out.

* * * * *

When I came to, I found myself lying on a bed.

Brett's face came within the periphery of my vision. 'You okay?' he asked.

I propped myself up on elbow and winced as the pain pounded in my head. I looked around. I was back inside my room at the ranch. I laid my head back down on the pillow. 'What happened?'

'You fell of the horse and hit your head against a stone,' Brett responded.

Mrs. Davis' plump face materialized over me. 'Here. Drink some painkillers.'

I rose to a sitting position and took the glass from her hand and the tablets from her outstretched palm. I threw them inside my mouth and gulped down half the glass. I returned it to Mrs. Davis and fell back on the pillow.

Mu mind was starting to work. I put a hand on my forehead and asked, 'Who brought me here?'

'Your girlfriend,' said Brett quickly, a sly smile on his face. 'The one you didn't want us to know about.'

'She's not my girlfriend.' I tried to sit up. The throbbing in my head was subsiding.

He shrugged. 'Maybe, maybe not. But I can see why you didn't want me to see her,' he said with a mischievous smile. 'She's a real scorcher.'

I ignored him and addressed Clive, whom I'd just noticed was in the room too. 'Where's Mimosa?'

At the stable. He came galloping here alone and we knew something must have happened. We were getting ready for a search when that young lady came. She led us to the place where you fell.'

He saw the question in my eyes before I could ask it.

'Mimosa saw a snake. That's why he reacted so wildly,' he explained. 'That young lady, Jessica, is brave. She killed the snake before coming here to get help.'

'Where's she now?' I quizzed.

'Jesus, man!' the exclamation was from Brett. 'You got a lump in your head and you still can't wait to get back to your girlfriend?'

'I told you she's not my girlfriend,' I yelled at him and felt the throbbing pain shoot through my head. I fell back on the pillow and closed my eyes. I felt the pain slowly go away. I lifted my hand to the left side of my head. The lump on my temple felt big.

'Try to sleep and get some rest,' advised Mrs. Davis.

Three pairs of feet shuffled away, followed by the sound of the door clicking shut softly. I remained lying there in the silence of the room. After some time, sleep came stealthily over me and when I woke up, it was already dark outside.

I slowly got out of bed and walked groggily downstairs.

'What're you doing here?' Mrs. Davis demanded reproachfully when she saw me. 'I was going to bring your supper upstairs.'

'It's okay,' I responded. 'I'll have it here with you guys.'

She didn't argue. After dinner, I felt a little stronger, and I climbed the stairs back to my room, thinking that if sleep disappeared I would watch late night TV. I shouldn't have worried; Mrs. Davis's painkillers were still strong and working their chemistry inside my body. I slept very soundly that night.

The next day I was feeling a lot better when I woke up. Brett and I went shooting birds. I got tired of it and returned to the ranch, leaving Brett to his shooting. He already had three birds to his name for that day, while I had missed all I'd tried my best to kill.

I begged Mrs. Davis to tell me where Jessica stayed and she reluctantly gave me the directions. I brushed aside her reluctance as the usual oddity of the little old woman.

* * * * *

Jessica must have seen me approaching because she opened the door just when I was about to tap my knuckles on it. For some reason I couldn't exactly fathom, she was red in the face. 'What're you doing here?' she exploded hotly.

'I...I....came...' I stammered.

'Go away,' she said, then lowered her voice. 'Go round that corner and follow the path you'll see. I'll be with you in a moment.' Then she disappeared and shut the door in my face.

I went round the corner of the house just as instructed and saw the path. I had followed it for some minutes when I decided to stop and look behind. I saw her walking briskly towards me and waited for her.

'Come on,' let's go,' she said cheerfully when she reached me. I realized that the anger that she had shown to me back at the house had gone.

'Where're we going?' I asked with a frown.

'Anywhere,' she answered, starting to pace away. 'Far from here.'

I walked beside her. 'For a minute back there I thought you were mad at me.'

'I was,' she said tersely.

'Why?'

''Cause you shouldn't have come to my place. I don't want my mother to see you.'

'So, you stay with your mom?' I didn't have anything better to say.

'Yeah, and she drives me nuts,' Jessica said. I could see the annoyance on her face. 'Doesn't want me to make friends with anyone. She'd scold me if she saw us together.'

We walked in silence for a while before she spoke again. 'How're you feeling?' she asked, casting an eye at the lump on my temple.

'Trust me, I don't feel as bad as I look,' I said and added with a smile. 'I'll live.'

'You gave me a fright yesterday,' she said seriously. 'I thought you'd...' She didn't finish her sentence.

'It would take more than a stone to kill this warrior,' I sad, beating at my chest with my fist like I'd seen King Kong do.

She laughed with me. Then we fell silent as our chuckling faded away.

'I'll have to talk to your mother,' I told her.

'Why would you do a thing like that?' she asked with an astonished expression on her face.

'To convince her to let us be friends, 'cause I like being with you...No, that's not entirely true. I love being with you.'

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face me, making me stop too. She looked into my eyes and smiled. 'I'm fond of you too.' Then she blushed fiercely and avoided my gaze. 'Come on, let's race to those bushes.'

She was already a yard away when I heard the last two words.

* * * * *

We spent all afternoon together. Exploring the wild country. Discovering things. Two teenage kids doing crazy things.

I learned that day that she was sixteen, a year younger than me. She lived with her mother alone. She didn't know her father. Her mother said that he had died when Jessica was a toddler. She had grown up here in Texas and had lived all her sixteen years on earth here. Other than that, she didn't have anything much else to say.

I told her about myself and city life. I was surprised to find that although she was a small-county girl, she was, however, not naïve. On the contrary, she was astonishingly intelligent. She knew a lot about the subjects we talked about. She was cheerful and sad by turns, tender and funny, and above all, devastatingly beautiful. She was the most complete woman I had ever met in all the seventeen years of my life.

By the end of the day, I had forgotten all my crazy desires for all the other girls I knew. My heart was forever lost under the magic spell of Jessica Gauld.

* * * * *

The night before our return trip to Oregon, I sneaked out of my bedroom window and sprinted in the direction of Jessica's home. It was very dark, and I had to apply all my senses in order to find my way there.

We met in the barn as we had agreed. My eyes now accustomed to the darkness, I stripped to my briefs. I crouched down and gathered some hay and arranged it into a rough bed. I spread my clothes upon the dry grass. I rose to my feet and stared at her. She stood staring at me silently, completely naked. 'You wanna do this?' I asked her.

She nodded in the dark.

I took a step towards her and kissed her. Gently at first and then more hungrily as the heat seared at my loins. We drew apart and she laid herself down on her back on the clothes I had spread upon the hay. I got to my knees before her and leaned forward, supporting myself on my hands. Our mouths locked in a fierce and hungry passion. I took her tongue between my lips and sucked hard on it. Something an ex-girlfriend of mine had taught me.

I let go of her mouth and moved my head down to her breasts. I sucked her nipples and stroked them with my tongue in turns. She moaned and writhed her pelvis expectantly. I raced my right hand down her body and touched the soft mound at her crotch. It was a moment of revelation for me. Kissing I knew. A nude female body I had seen in pictures, on TV and even strip-clubs we sneaked into during crazy adventures with my friends. But nothing had prepared me for touching it; the mystery of feminine vitality.

I foraged with my hand through the thicket of her hairs and slid a finger inside her. She was wet. I pulled down my briefs and my hard slapped against my belly. I balanced myself on my elbows and lowered myself into her. She cried as I penetrated her, and I pulled myself out quickly.

'Did I hurt you?' I whispered.

She shook her head and impatiently pulled me back to her, arching her pelvis to welcome me. I positioned myself and carefully lowered myself into her again. I began to thrust at her slowly. She moaned and panted heavily. In a moment, the frenzy of passion gripped us and I jammed myself faster into her. She shut her eyes, soft shrieks escaping from her mouth.

Then it came. I felt the hot wild sensation build inside me and I crushed myself into her. I felt myself come inside her as she clung tightly to me, her orgasm rocking her body. 'Duncan! Duncan!' she screamed helplessly.

We lay like that for a long moment. I think both of us didn't want to break the wonderful magic.

Eventually, I slid off her and rolled to my back beside her. The grass bit my back but I didn't care. I closed my eyes and felt heaven come over me.

I heard her voice come softly to my ears as if in a dream. 'I love you.'

I opened my eyes to look into her face. She was smiling beautifully at me. Her eyes told me that she meant it. 'I love you too, Jessica,' I whispered back.

We both knew that it was true. I knew it was her first, and she knew it was my first too. The first sexual experience for both of us and there were no words to describe it. It was beautiful. It was everything we wanted it to be. It was magic.

* * * * *

I never saw her again after that.

I returned to Uncle Gio's ranch again for the next vacation and learned from Mrs. Davis that Jessica's mother had died and nobody knew where Jessica had moved to. It seemed everyone knew little about the Gauld family. I was devastated, but I never lost hope that I would see her again.

When I turned eighteen, I still didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. Yet both my brothers had made up their minds from an early age. Brett was going to be a politician, and it seemed my father had decided his eldest son would be the Governor of Oregon.

Wayne was going to be a priest, and my parents had no problem with that. Dad had already used his influence to find Wayne a good seminary, just as he had used it to find Brett a place at Yale. Brett was following in the footsteps of his favorite presidents, and thus he would study Law as a start to his political future.

On my eighteenth birthday Uncle Gio took me to Paris, France. 'To see the beauty of the world,' he said.

I saw it alright, but it was not what I had thought he meant. After seeing all the best endroits – places – to be seen in Paris, Uncle Gio went with me to a place owned by a woman I got to know only as Isabelle. It was a brothel, but stepping inside its magnificent splendor, it felt like an insult to think of it that way.

'This is my birthday present to you, my boy,' Uncle Gio said when we got there. 'Your first fuck.'

He had no idea I'd already been laid. I'd never told him about Jessica Gauld. He arranged for me to have Isabelle herself, and when I left Paris I knew things that would have made my mother cry on hearing them.

When I returned home, I found another birthday present waiting for me. My father handed me an envelope and I took it from his hand. I opened it and pulled the crisp-white paper that was folded inside. I unfolded it and read. Then I looked up at my father in surprise. 'Thank you, Dad.' I said the only words that came to my mind at the moment.

He hugged me. 'Happy birthday, son.'

It was the offer of a place at Stanford, personally signed by the college president. I do not remember ever applying to Stanford.

Chapter 2

1985

So, it was decided that I would study medicine at Stanford.

I went, had good times, not-so-good times, as well as crazy times, all combined but in no particular order. When I left Stanford I was a changed man, but my crazy adventurous spirit was still there. Nothing could kill that. Of all the three Shelley brothers, I've always been the one with a crazy sense of adventure, an almost insatiable desire to follow crazy adventurous dreams.

It is this spirit that never made me clear about what I wanted to do avec ma vie – with my life. When I was five, I watched a war film on TV and wanted to be a soldier; at age nine a cop drama made me want to be a cop; at eleven I watched The Godfather and wanted to be Uncle Giovanno; at thirteen I wanted to be the fastest race-car driver; at fifteen I wished I'd been born into a royal family, all because I marveled at the power those people had; when I was seventeen I wanted to be the richest man on earth and buy Jessica Gauld the world.

So, when I left Stanford I still had my crazy adventurous dreams and I still didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. Even though I had qualified as a medical doctor, working at a hospital didn't appeal to me. And neither did Dad's idea of opening my own practice. Eventually, I joined a humanitarian organization and went to Vietnam to help in the aftermath of the war.

I was paired with Sophie Walsh, and we were stationed at a small village which had been devastatingly ravaged by the war. The destruction was evident everywhere, even in the eyes of the inhabitants, who went about the task of bringing their lives back to normal soulless indifference and dispirited enthusiasm. These people were exceedingly poor, and our concern was mainly with the children because of the high risk of malnutrition and rampant disease outbreaks.

We set up a tent in the yard of one of the village homesteads, next to the huts. This doubled both as our home and our clinic.

'So, you're a nurse?' I asked Sophie on the first day we met.

'Not exactly,' she answered. 'I trained with the Red Cross.'

'Why're you here?'

'I guess I've always wanted to do something like this, helping people. I like it,' she said convincingly.

'You're not afraid?' I asked after a moment. 'Staying like this?'

She shook her head. 'No, I'm used to it. I've been in almost similar situations before.'

'This is not your first posting?'

'No. I was in Africa before this.' A dim look covered her face. 'Had to be evacuated when rebel insurgents terrorized the area. Some of my friends got killed there.'

We were silent for a while. She smiled at me and added, 'Same thing could happen to us here.'

If it was meant as a joke, I didn't find it funny.

* * * * *

I shouldn't have worried. We were treated kindly by the people of that village. The girls of the family with which we lived supplied us with water fetched from the well. I marveled at the way they carried the buckets of water balanced effortlessly on their heads. We chose one of the girls to be one of our aides because she had received high school education and could speak a bit of English. She had had to withdraw from school to look after her sick mother. We couldn't pronounce her Vietnamese name, so Sophie and I made suggestions and it was eventually decided we would call her Dawn – because she was an early riser who came silently every morning and built a fire beside our tent. By the time we woke up the water would be boiling, ready for herbal tea.

We set up a time-table for vaccinations against the most common diseases, and Dawn and her friends spread the word about the days on which we carried out such and such an activity. There were also supplementary food stuffs we distributed, targeted especially at young children. All these and other material supplies came from the charity organization's headquarters in Saigon. Then a helicopter would bring the supplies to us.

Everything went well; our adopted village's people were very grateful for our help and the work we were doing. When they didn't understand instructions or prescriptions then Dawn acted as a translator. I marveled at the way the Vietnamese spoke quickly in their language but never was able to learn it.

* * * * *

When Maslow devised his hierarchy of needs, he wasn't wrong; sex is a primal physiological need, as I came to realize after some months of staying in primitive conditions. And when the need to satisfy this primal need intensified I turned to the closest human I could identify with and felt sexually attracted to: Sophie. I wasn't turned on by the Vietnamese women with their diminutive statures. Sophie was also physically drawn to me, so we turned to each other for sexual gratification.

It led to dependence.

It soon became a drug for me to enable me to go on and also to forget the horrid scars of our ravaged surroundings. Even though it lasted for a few minutes, those moments of passion were enough for that kind of escapism.

Sophie grew to realize how hooked on her I was, and became a bitch about it. She started to manipulate me; she had only to open her legs for me to come running. Then she would make me do anything she wanted. Sometimes she would make me beg for it, kneeling down and pleading like inferior subjects must have done before the great Zulu King, Shaka Zulu.

I could tell she enjoyed the power she held over me. She would giggle foolishly and sway her hips provocatively, making me smell her but not allowing me to touch. One day, she undressed and opened her legs to me. I jumped to her and started to kiss her all over. Then she clamped shut her legs and ordered me to make her a something to eat before we could go ahead. It was the quickest meal I ever made.

Then on yet another day I had to ride three miles on a rickety bicycle to the nearest grocery store to buy her a chocolate bar. Another time she pushed me too far and I grabbed her and forced myself on her. She fought me maniacally and threatened to report to the embassy in Saigon that I had raped her. On hearing that, my head cleared and I eased back. I knew that if that eventuality came to pass I would be finished, so the days went by and I let her continue her bitching. Then the inevitable happened; one night I felt so horny I felt like a breeding stallion. I moved closer to her but she brushed me away.

'Please, Sophie,' I pleaded. 'I need it. I'll do anything, please.'

'You can't get it tonight,' she said. I really thought she was playing her games again, until she told me the reason why. 'And for the next few days. I'm having my period.'

I think I lay awake the whole night. The next day, Dawn came with the water as usual. I jumped off bed to help her lower the bucket from her head. We set the bucket down on the ground, and when I straightened up I stared at her. Some water had splattered onto her shirt. The front of her blouse was wet, and the soft cloth clung to her breasts. I could see the nipples of her small breasts strain tautly against the wet material of her blouse. I felt the burning fire in my loins and looked at her eyes. She lowered her eyes and her gaze went down to below my waist. Upon noticing the unmistakable bulge in my trousers, she quickly looked down at her feet timidly. She quickly scurried away without another look at me, and I remained rooted on the spot, staring at her departing back, and amazed at my own unexpected response to her sexuality.

At night, I buried myself under the blankets in my bed and pretended to be asleep until I was certain that Sophie had fallen asleep. Then I silently went on tip-toe to Dawn's hut. I knew that as the big sister she slept in it alone. As quietly as I could, I stealthily opened the light tin door and slipped inside. I could see in the dim light of the hut that there was nobody inside. I crossed to the mat that was her bed and sat on it. Patiently, I waited. I knew that they slept late, telling stories by the fire outside.

After a long while, I heard her footsteps approaching. I got up and hid myself behind the door. As soon as she entered I grabbed her and covered her mouth with my hand. She began to fight and would have bit my hand had she not soon realized that it was me. She stopped struggling and I pulled my hand from her mouth.

'I'll go away if you want,' I whispered.

She didn't respond. Instead, she faced down. Even in the darkness, she was shy. I didn't want to exert myself on her, so I turned and made to get out.

I felt a tug at my arm and turned back. 'No go,' she whispered. 'Me want dis.'

I kissed her. She seemed surprised by the kiss. She didn't move her lips as I caressed her mouth with my lips. I was to learn later that she had never been kissed before. I tore my lips from her and helped her undress before I pulled off my clothes. Then we crossed over to the mat and she lowered herself down onto her back. I got over her and started kissing her body. I had intended to go slow, but she moved her down to my crotch and grabbed my cock. She arched her back and guided it into her hole. I gasped as I splashed into the burning hot gel. I began to cum even before I was fully inside her. She let out a muffled laugh and grinded herself against me, her arms encircling my torso. She held me in a tight clasp and raised her hips off the mat, pushing both of us up. Only her head and shoulders and feet were on the mat as she levered up her back and began to slam her suspended pelvis against me, swallowing me deeper into her.

I jammed into her, and she crushed her pelvis more rapidly against my thrusts. She was panting furiously now as she rocked me up and down until I couldn't take it anymore. I exploded inside her and collapsed helplessly onto her. She lowered her back onto the mat and I slumped onto her and lay motionless, shattered by the powerful orgasm. After a while, I felt myself shrink inside her. I slid off her body and rolled to my back beside her. 'Jesus!' I managed to exclaim. 'What did you put in it?'

She looked away.

'What's wrong?' I asked, lifting my head off the mat to look at her.

'You are no strong,' she answered in a low voice. 'I didn't feel anything.'

After wearing me out like that, this chick was telling me that she was still hot. I almost laughed out aloud.

'Man supposed to be strong,' she said, turning her head to look at me. 'To enjoy with woman.'

'What do you mean?'

She was silent for a moment, and I was beginning to think she must have fallen asleep when I heard her voice again. 'We are trained for it,' she said, almost in a whisper. 'When the girls start passing blood, we are taken by the elders for training. To prepare for marriage. To give our men enjoyment in bed.'

I grew interested. 'Tell me about the training.'

"You lift your back and they put sharp things under you. If you fall you can get injured. You stay like that for a long time until the instructor is satisfied.'

This time I laughed. After what she had done to me, I could picture her with her back hanging suspended in the air over a row of spikes.

'Make me strong,' I said.

'Roll over,' she said, rising to her knees.

I lay on my belly and felt her hands travelling over my back. Then she started chopping down rapidly with her hands on sensitive muscles. The pain shot exquisitely through my nerves and my whole body was on edge. I felt her hand sliding down my back, over my butt, and then it stopped at my crotch. She grabbed my balls and I felt myself grow and harden at her touch. She lay down and said, 'Make me enjoy it with you this time.'

She rocked and punished me for more than an hour until we fell down exhausted from our laborious activity. As I lay beside her, I was convinced that I would never raise a hard again. A new respect dawned on me for this little woman who was such a bundle of dynamite that had nearly killed me.

I awoke in the early hours of the morning and sneaked back to the tent. I cast a glimpse at Sophie, fast asleep on her stretcher, and I smiled.

* * * * *

The smile was gone when I tried to rise from my stretcher bed late in the morning. My back hurt terribly and I knew that Dawn had broken my back. I groaned as I rose up. I couldn't straighten all the way up. I took a few paces in a stoop. My back was killing me. I lowered myself back down onto the stretcher.

When Sophie came back a while later to ask why I was still in bed I told her I wasn't feeling alright and she brought me some aspirin tablets. The aspirin didn't work. What finally worked was a concoction of herbal medicine which I was given by a very shy Dawn around 4pm. She had been told by Sophie about me, and when she had come in to see me I had whispered to her what was really killing me. She disappeared for some two hours and reappeared with a bottle of the concoction.

'Will it work?' I asked skeptically.

'Yes. It is very strong. Don't drink a lot.'

She poured me a bit of the mixture in a cup and gave it to me. I accepted it without complaint. I was in pain, and desperate for relief. And desperate men do desperate things. Dawn went away and left me the bottle. I poured myself some more of the mixture and drank it before I lay back on the stretcher and dozed off. When I awoke the pain was gone. Completely gone.

I straightened up and discovered to my relief that my back was fine. No pain. I silently promised myself that I would not go back to Dawn again. By the time I went to bed that night, I had finished all the contents of the bottle she had given me. Despite my resolve not to go back to her, her concoction ironically made me return to her. She had not told me that the herbal mixture doubled as a libido stimulant. It was very powerful.

So powerful that the following day I walked around with a hard all day long and couldn't wait for sunset to come so that I could get between her legs. We burned the sheets that night. I went strong continuously for a long time until I couldn't count the orgasms.

'You strong now,' she whispered in my ear as she rested her head on my arm.

'It's the medicine, isn't it?' I asked in a whisper.

'Yes. How much did you drink?'

'All of it.'

She lifted her head and looked at me. 'That was mistake,' she said, shaking her head.

'Why? My back was killing me.'

'You must drink small amount. Medicine strong...will be in your blood for month...'

'Then it's okay. We'll set fire to the sheets every night,' I told her and suddenly grabbed her, kissing her. Letting go of her, I said, 'I'm strong now, aren't I?'

'Like wild horse,' she said with an amused laugh.

We had another bout of explosive sex.

She must have told her friends about our secret because on the following days we got a lot of visitors to the tent, with poor excuses why they were there. One would offer to cook for us. Some would bring us water even though they knew we had plenty. And then they would ask if we had any clothes we wanted washed. The suggestive looks they gave me were quite obvious. I was certain I had become the village girls' dream, and they all wanted to get screwed by Dawn's white horse.

One can only resist so much; and they say when you are given something, you take it. Besides, the medicine was still working inside me; I was still horny as hell, so I ended up banging some of the chicks whenever chance proved favorable. And, of course, Sophie was bound to find out. I had not laid her since that time when she had her periods. She wanted it so bad I could see it in her eyes. I could have turned back the tables but I didn't. I knew she wondered where I was getting it. Her female intuition led her to the answer.

'You're screwing them, aren't you?' she attacked me one day, her voice laden with unmistakable disgust.

'Who're you talking about?' I faked surprise.

'Jesus, Duncan!' Her voice rose to a shrill scream. 'I don't believe this!'

'Calm down,' I said. 'You'll attract attention.'

'I don't care!' she flared. 'I saw you one night. I saw you,' she repeated as if it was the divine truth. 'You thought I was asleep but I wasn't. I followed you, Duncan. I followed you and saw you with one of them.'

She moved closer to me. 'Deny it. I want you to deny it to my face.'

I just stared at her, shocked by the violent qualities of her I had not noticed before.

She took a step back suddenly, and I noticed her face change as if a revelation had suddenly dawned upon her. 'Jesus, Duncan,' she snorted with a short laugh. 'You really are screwing the scrawny little stinking monkeys.'

'If you think they're monkeys then why're you going out of your way, living in such conditions, to help them?' I shot back, feeling the anger rise in me. I walked away from her and left her standing there. I took a walk to calm myself down.

Things were never the same after that. She became sulky and only spoke to me when necessary. I respected her decision to ignore me by keeping out of her way. And then one morning I woke up to her shaking my body. 'She's dying, Duncan,' Sophie said as soon as I opened my eyes.

'Dawn is dying,' she said again.

'What happened?' I asked, leaping to my feet.

'She aborted. The fetus was two months old, and the concoction she drank didn't work,' the words rolled rapidly off her lips. 'She needs to go to the clinic. We can't do anything for her here.'

'Let's go,' I said, already moving.

Sophie caught my sleeve. 'No, Duncan. Today the mothers are bringing their children for the measles vaccination and to get their formula. They need to see you. I'll take Dawn to the clinic with some girls.'

I paused and looked at her. She was right. I would be needed at the tent. Mothers were bringing their children for check-up that day. Sophie squeezed my shoulder and gave me a warm smile. 'Don't worry, she'll be alright.'

* * * * *

I was bent down, hanging a baby on the scale when she came back. I didn't see her until I felt her presence next to me. I looked up and saw the tears in her eyes. 'She's dead, Duncan,' Sophie cried.

* * * * *

I never knew who gave me the syphilis.

Sophie got to know about it when it became worse and I had a very swollen lymph node in my groin which hurt real bad when I walked.

'What kind of doctor are you?' she sneered down at me.

I looked up at her and just lay quiet in my bed.

'How can you get a venereal disease?' she fired some more questions. 'What happened to protection?'

She was getting on my nerves. 'These things happen,' I said gruffly.

She snorted. 'It wouldn't have happened if you hadn't gone about sticking your dick in monkey cunts.'

That angered me, and I leapt to my feet, momentarily forgetting the boil at my groin. The pain shot through to my heart and I almost cried out aloud.

'None of this would have happened if you hadn't been stingy with yours,' I blurted out angrily.

'You are full of shit!' she retorted.

I lurched at her, ready to strike with the palm of my hand but I never got to her. The pain exploded from my groin as I took two quick steps towards her and I stopped, thinking the swollen boil had burst. I doubled to the ground with the pain and gasped through clenched teeth. 'Get me to the clinic!'

Sophie came and knelt down next to me and looked down into my already sweating face. 'There's nothing they can do for you there,' she said gently and lifted my head onto her lap.

She was right. The clinic had the usual antibiotic tablets, penicillin and aspirin; stuff that couldn't really cure me. We had run out of supplies and didn't know when the next consignment would come. I reached for Sophie's hand and held it tightly. 'Please. Take me to the hospital in Saigon,' I mumbled. 'Go to the police. They'll telephone the hospital for an ambulance.'

'It's no good,' she said, wiping away the sweat with a cloth. 'The bridge was swept away by the rains.'

I knew that. It had happened last week. I'd forgotten. The disease must have gone to my head. My mind raced for other solutions. 'Then telephone the embassy. Tell them it's an urgent situation. Request a chopper.'

Even as I finished saying that, the look in Sophie's eyes said what we both knew. There was a fuel shortage in the country, which was also adding to the delays in getting our supplies.

By afternoon, I had grown delirious. I lapsed in and out of consciousness, and it was in a haze that I heard the distant drone of a helicopter. In the midst of the confusion, I faintly heard voices, and then later a sharp object stung my butt and I dropped into a deep black pit.

I woke up at the hospital. When I got better, I decided I'd had enough of Vietnam, and left for the States, where I got a fuller treatment to get rid of the syphilis.

Sophie also left Vietnam. The last I heard of her was that she was killed by rebels in East Timor.

Chapter 3

January, 2002

I wanted a break from medicine for a while, so I decided to join my father's business, Shelley Electronics. Yeah, the giant corporation that makes just about every household electronic item you can think of; irons, TVs, Hi-Fis, micro-waves, dish-washers, vacuum cleaners, etc. The Shelley trademark can be found on at least one item in every American home.

Dad was elated about my decision, and I had a free choice to do whatever I wanted at his corporation. I found Portland, the company headquarters and the family home, slow and boring for me, so I headed for the fast life in the east, to run the New York operation. New York cured me of the fear of women that I had developed since contracting the venereal disease back in Vietnam.

I was still heading the New York operation, thirteen years later, when the Shelley clan descended in Oregon to celebrate Brett's career success. He had just been elected a Lower House Representative. The dinner was a strictly black-tie affair. Only those who were anybody in Oregon society made it to the list of the fifty-five invited dinner guests. As the guests started arriving at the Shelley mansion in Southwest Hills. Those who were already there accepted expensive champagne from the white-jacketed waiters, and then scattered around the big hall-like lounge making easy conversation.

I descended downstairs and moved about the place, nodding and greeting faces I recognized. I took a glass of wine from the tray of a passing waiter and the moved my eyes around the room. Someone who had just appeared at the doorway caught my eye. I took a pull at my drink and stared at her as she slipped her coat down her arms and gave it to the butler at the door.

She was wearing a magnificent décolleté evening gown of glittering silk. It fitted her breasts and waist like it had been cut for her. She wore her hair in a neat pile clasped by a pin behind her head. Her diamond pendant earrings hanging short from her ears glistened like white liquid fire. A diamond necklace lay spread neatly along the soft rise of her breasts, the diamonds looking like droplets of crystal water against the creamy whiteness of her flesh.

She must have sensed my stare because she suddenly looked my way and her eyes met my gaze. She started walking towards me and stopped a few feet away.

'Clarissa, I'm glad you made it,' my father's voice said right there beside me. I hadn't noticed him.

'I want you to meet my son, Duncan,' he said, addressing her. Then he turned to me. 'Son, this is Clarissa Hagman, the Assistant DA.'

I took her outstretched hand and leaned forward to kiss the back of her palm. 'Pleased to meet you.' I smiled at her.

She smiled back and didn't say anything.

'Well, you two, let me go and meet the other guests,' Dad said.

I didn't see him go away. I was intently watching Clarissa. 'The Assistant DA. How come I've never met you?'

'Should you have?'

'I know all the beautiful women in Portland.'

'Am I supposed to take that as a fact or a compliment?' There were hints of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

'Take it anyhow, though I'd prefer you choose the latter.'

'So, the stories I've heard about you are true.' It was a statement, said with a wider smile this time. A pretty smile. A smile that wouldn't hurt to wake up to every morning.

I beckoned a waiter and when he came over I placed my empty glass on his tray and from it took two glasses of champagne. I handed her one. Her soft hands brushed against mine when she took the glass from my hand and I felt the electric tingle of her touch. Staring at her, I took a sip from my glass. 'Stories, huh? Don't believe any of them.'

She smiled and took a sip of the champagne. 'I'll be the judge of that.'

'Funny you should use the word judge. So, what's your verdict, judge?'

She laughed. Sweet, gentle laughter. The kind of feminine laughter that makes you start seeing little feet pit-pattering somewhere in the hallways of a suburban estate...

I took the opportunity to glance at her hands. No ring.

'So, what have you heard about me?'

'A lot,' she said cryptically.

'Don't you think it's unfair that you should know a lot about me when I know absolutely nothing about you?'

She took a casual pull at her drink. 'Maybe you will,' she said with a suggestive smile.

Somebody cleared a throat close by. We both turned and saw Wayne.

'Father,' said Clarissa. 'Nice to meet you again. How are you?'

'Fine, Clarissa. I hope you are well?' he asked with a pleasant smile.

So they knew each other. Why was I always the last one to meet people?

Clarissa left us and I watched her walk gracefully to a couple across the room.

'Duncan, I want to talk to you,' Wayne said, his face suddenly turning serious.

'Sure, Father Wayne.' I could never get used to calling him Father, so I settled for Father Wayne.

'It is something of grave importance,' he said. 'I need your help.'

Priests have a way of making everything turn into an issue of grave importance, and my younger brother was no exception. It was probably something that would take the minimal of my time.

'I understand,' I said, and then on impulse I switched to formal vocabulary. 'How can I be of assistance, Father Wayne?'

'We can't talk here,' he responded. 'I don't want anybody to know about this.'

'Oh,' I muttered and took a sip of my drink.

'Can I come and see you in New York?' he asked with a pensive look.

'Sure. Anytime.'

'Is the day after tomorrow alright?'

'Yes, Father Wayne, it's okay. You know you're welcome anytime, man.'

We chatted for some more minutes about trivial things, and then we mingled with other guests. I met the man-of-the-moment, Brett, and congratulated him for the umpteenth time, having already sent cards and countless messages via the phone. Hell, he was my big brother and I was proud of him. The whole family was proud of him.

'Who's that?' I asked Brett, nodding my head at a hot-looking chick close by.

'Beautiful, isn't she?' Brett said with a sly smile. 'That's Diane Thomas, one of my accompanying aides.'

Brett introduced us, and then soon afterwards the announcement was made that dinner was ready. Everyone shuffled to the tables. My chair was called out and to my pleasant surprise I discovered that I had been placed next to Diane Thomas, Brett's aide. I looked around the room and when I saw Clarissa wedged between the Mayor and his wife I raised my glass at her. She smiled back at me.

The conversation at the table was, inevitably, predominantly politics, laced with some anecdotes.

'Like I've always maintained, this year is a Republican year, and...' a senator whose name I couldn't remember started his contribution to the conversation.

Not being familiar with the topic, I turned my attention to the chick beside me, Diane Thomas. As the evening drew on, I discovered that she was interesting in her own way, and as a woman didn't miss much.

I didn't realize how much she didn't miss until I woke up in my room next morning to find her naked in bed next to me. The room was thick with the heavy stink of sex and alcohol. I blinked. 'What happened?'

She cuddled closer and kissed me, stale breath and all.

'We got drunk, came here and fucked,' she said. 'And all was good.'

'Jesus,' I pushed a hand through my hair. 'How come I don't remember anything?'

'Seriously?' I felt her hand glide down my belly. She found my cock and grabbed it. It started throbbing awake in her hand. 'Let me help you remember,' she said mischievously. 'Get up.'

She threw the sheets off our bodies and I got to my knees before her. She raised her legs and brought her knees down on her chest, opening her cunt at me. I moved my head down to it and her pungent smell hit me. I drew back with a wince.

'Stinks, huh?' she asked.

I nodded silently.

She swung her legs to the edge of the bed and leapt up. 'Come help me wash it clean.'

We went to the bathroom and did some sexual acrobatics there. By the time we stepped out, I think we had wasted more water than the Shelley mansion did in two weeks.

I flew back to New York in the afternoon, and – because Brett had given his staff a week-long holiday – Diane came with me.

* * * * *

The ringing phone woke me up. I groaned and reached for it. Wayne's voice came at the other end of the line. I spoke to him for a few seconds before replacing the receiver. I looked at the time. 6.05AM. And my brother was already up and waiting at my gate. I sighed and pressed a button on the remote control device to open the gate.

I fell back on the bed. Diane had disappeared. Probably in the bathroom. It crossed my mind for a moment that Wayne was not the only early riser.

I heard the noise of the doorbell and yelled for Wayne to get in. 'In the bedroom,' I shouted when I heard the front door slam shut.

He appeared in the doorway some few seconds later. I noticed that he was in civvies. A light-blue shirt tucked neatly into khaki pants. I was about to speak when Diane reappeared from the bathroom, completely in the nude except for a towel rolled around her head like a turban. She looked up and saw Wayne. 'Hi,' she said, flashing him a smile.

Wayne nodded speechlessly, and I could see the color drain from his face. Diane walked nonchalantly to the edge of the bed, picked up her panties and slid them on. Then she pulled on her jeans, her breasts swaying as she pulled the jeans to her waist and fastened the zip. She grabbed her T-shirt and slipped into it.

'Where're you going?' I asked.

'Don't worry,' she replied, moving closer to me. 'I'll be in the kitchen. You guys look like you got something to talk about.'

She leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. I slapped her butt as she moved away. I shifted my gaze to Wayne, who was staring agape at Diane, and remained staring at the door even after she had disappeared. The color had somehow returned to his face, and the blood shone red on his cheeks as he stood blushing fiercely.

'So, what brings you to the Big Apple, beloved brother?' I asked, before remembering my manners. 'There's a chair.'

'Thank you,' he said in a constricted voice, moving to the chair that sat facing the bed and dumping himself into it. He raised both his palms to his face and covered it in them. He sat like that for some time before he brought his hands down. 'I don't know how to say this,' he said with difficulty. Then he let out a short laugh. 'It's funny that I sit long hours listening to people's confessions yet I can't make my own.'

'Let's switch roles,' I suggested. 'Pretend you're me and I'm you.'

'Okay.' He sighed and cleared his throat. 'You remember that time when I went to stay at the summer house after you brought me from Africa?'

'Yes. It was late last year.'

'Right,' he paused and started to play with his hands. 'Well, when I was there I met someone.'

'A woman,' I guessed.

'Right,' he responded and for the first time since sitting down looked at my eyes. 'We fell in love. We had sex, and we did all sorts of crazy things...one of them was swimming naked in that lake out in the trees.'

I lay quiet and waited patiently for him to continue.

'I love this woman, Duncan. She loves me too. We love each other,' he said earnestly, reminding me of that time when we were kids and he told me he wanted to be a priest. 'We want to get married.'

That was a bombshell. 'What about your vows?'

'I'm resigning at the end of the year,' he said calmly.

So much for childhood memories. There was a long silence in the room. I sat up and leaned on the head-board. 'Is Rome okay with it?'

'Yes.'

'But there's a problem.' I saw it in his face.

He didn't hesitate. 'We were seen—.'

I interrupted him. 'We?'

'Me and Janice – the woman I was telling you about,' he explained. 'As I said, we were happy and for a while we forgot the rest of the world and thought the world belonged to us alone. Then that day we went swimming naked in the lake and spent a long time out in the woods...'

'And you were seen by whom?' I prodded.

He let out a deep sigh. 'A photographer...journalist...I don't know...Could've been anyone.' He shrugged. This person shot photographs of me and Janice out in the woods. We didn't see him.' A sudden despair came to his voice. 'And now he's demanding money.'

'Blackmail.'

'Yes,' Wayne agreed quickly. 'He's threatening to make the pictures public.'

I watched my brother stand up and come closer to the bed. He stared down at me. 'I don't want that to happen, Duncan. I would get excommunicated.'

'Is it that bad?'

'It is,' he said impatiently. 'I came to you because you are the only one I trust. And I know you can help me. Will you?'

I smiled at him. 'Of course. What's an elder brother for?'

He walked back to the chair and sat down. 'We have to keep Janice secret for these remaining months of my tenure. Then at the end of the year I can retire quietly.' His smooth, dignified face suddenly looked like that of an innocent young boy who had been roughed up by a bully at school. I was slowly grasping the magnitude of his predicament.

'Do you by any chance know who this guy is?'

He stood up and pulled something out of his pocket. He came over to the bed and handed me a small paper. A business card. 'He dropped that one day when he came to see me and I stepped on it, so that he couldn't see it.'

I looked at the card and read the name: Paul Winter. Underneath was the address and phone numbers of a small Oregon magazine. 'I'll take care of this. Everything is gonna turn out fine.'

Wayne thanked me and said he couldn't stay for breakfast because he had to hurry to the airport to catch a morning flight back to Oregon.

When he had gone I got up and showered for some time. Getting out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around my waist and then went to the kitchen. Diane had made a gargantuan breakfast for us. When we finished eating I took her in my arms and kissed her.

'Thanks. The food was delicious,' I told her. 'Like a Ritz breakfast.'

She grinned. 'I'm glad you liked it.' She kissed me back. 'I'm going back to Portland today.'

'Just when I was getting used to this lifestyle. What's the rush?'

'Gotta see family and friends before I return to work,' she responded and then her face became serious. 'Or if you want I can stay and we get married.'

I avoided that. 'So you're leaving today. Will I see you again?'

'Answer this first: do you want to marry me?'

'No.' No point in lying.

'Then you won't see me again.' And like that it was over. Just as abruptly as it had started.

Chapter 4

I went to work and a little later on and spent all day in and out of meetings. A little after 4PM I called my PA and told her that I might not be calling for work the next day, and she would have to keep in touch with me on my mobile phone if anything came up. When I had finished giving her a few other errands she rose to go.

'Oh,' she said. 'I did that check you requested on Paul Winter. He used to be with People magazine but was fired about two years ago. He hasn't had a steady job since then.' She handed me a sheet of paper. 'Here's his last known address.'

'Thanks, Isabelle. I don't know what I'd do without you.'

A smile of satisfaction came to her face and she left my office. I then sorted out some paperwork on my desk before catching the elevator down to the basement parking lot to get my Benz. I drove it at a steady run towards the house of my friend, Anthony Carson.

I met Anthony when we were kids at the private boarding school we went to, and we had been buddies ever since. He was now forty-one and had married his college sweetheart, Carolyne. They were both happy to see me when I arrived at their house. We went through the usual good-to-see-you-again rituals.

After some time, I asked, 'How's Frances?'

They both looked at each other and avoided my eyes. I understood why it made them uncomfortable to talk about her.

'I'm fine, Uncle Duncan,' Frances's voice came softly into the room, and we all looked up. She was slowly descending down the staircase that led from the upper floor.

I got up when she was at the last step and crossed to her. 'Hey, how's my number one niece?' I hugged her and felt her big tummy pushy against me.

'I'm big and heavy,' she responded. 'But I'm coping.'

I bent down, lowered my head to her belly and pressed my ear against her big stomach. 'And how's Little Francie? Is she kicking?'

'Like mad,' Frances answered, and then a frown creased her forehead. 'And who says it's a she?'

'I know that it is. Haven't you had a scan?'

Frances shook her head. 'No. I don't want to spoil the surprise.' She proudly stroked her stomach with her right hand and an affectionate smile came to her lips. 'If it's a boy, I'll name him after you, Uncle Duncan.'

I turned to face Frances' parents. 'Hey, look at me, thirty-eight and I'm already a god-father.'

Everyone broke into laughter. I helped Frances down onto a couch and we all chatted for some time before the women left to prepare dinner.

'No, Duncan. You're staying for dinner and that's final,' Carolyne had said adamantly and won the argument unchallenged.

'So,' Tony said when the women had left. 'What brings you to these parts?'

'Hey, can't a guy visit his best buddy?' I affected a hurt expression.

'You forget how much I know you,' Tony said. 'I knew the moment you stepped in through that door that something was up. So, why don't you spill the beans? You're killing me with anxiety.'

'You're right,' I said. 'I need a favor. We need to pay somebody a visit in Oregon.'

'Yee-hah!' Tony yelled excitedly, almost jumping to his feet. 'I knew you brought good news! These old bones could do with some action,' he paused and looked at me with serious eyes. 'Let's just hope it won't get us into trouble.'

I saw the beginnings of a grin on his mouth and we both burst out laughing as the memories came flooding back.

* * * * *

1977

I had changed into my sports kit and was making my way to the building accommodating the basketball courts. I walked along the pavement of the library and turned a corner. Then I saw them. A few yards ahead...Four boys. Engaged in a fierce fight. No, three boys against one. The big one. The three boys were over-powering this big boy. One hit him with a blow to the stomach and he doubled up. They all pounced on him and started pummeling him with their fists.

I ran. No, I sprinted to this brawl and lurched myself at the three boys in blind fury. I hit and kicked in all directions, not caring where my blows landed, but most of them found the desired targets because I heard the sudden gasps of pain. One of the three boys turned back to see what had hit him and my fist landed square on his nose. I felt bone crush under my knuckles. The boy clutched his nose and ran away wailing wildly. His collaborators turned to me. One threw a kick and I swerved and caught a glimpse of the big boy coming up behind my assailants. He grabbed both their heads in his big hands and before they could react he slammed their heads together and they crumpled down in drunken-like states.

The big boy turned to me furiously. 'What're you doing?' he fumed.

'Helping you!' I yelled back in surprise.

'Are you crazy? You could've been hurt,' he said, lowering his voice.

'No,' I answered. 'You could have been hurt if I hadn't helped you.'

He shrugged. 'Yeah, I suppose you're right. What's your name?'

'Duncan Shelley. And you?'

'Anthony Carson. Hey, let's get outta here before we get into trouble.'

We did get into trouble. The boy I'd hit suffered a broken nose and had to be taken to hospital with his two friends, who were treated for massive headaches. Anthony and I received a two-week detention spell for our efforts. All that, and up to now I never got to learn what the fight had been about. But from that time, we became friends who helped each other with almost everything. We became a team and bullies were no longer a problem for me because Tony was big and feared by most of the boys at school.

We later discovered to our pleasant surprise that Tony lived a few blocks from my house. We hung out together during school vacations and did all sorts of crazy stuff. Like the day we decided to steal a car and drive it, after having watched a great chase in a movie and wanting to taste the excitement ourselves. And the easiest car to steal was one of Dad's. I stole the keys and showed them to Tony when he next came to my home. He was elated, and started the car in a hurry, reversing it out of the driveway. He was three years older than me, and was already doing his driving lessons, so he could drive fairly well and much better than me.

He got the car onto the lane and we meandered our way onto the streets, shouting and yelling at the top of our voices. We must have gone about three blocks when I begged Tony to let me drive. He relented and I grabbed the wheel excitedly, driving the car with Tony as my instructor. Things went well for a few yards. Then a big garbage truck materialized ahead of the car and I panicked and stepped on the gas. The car lurched forward. I steered the wheel frantically, trying to control the car, and heard Tony shouting inaudible noises at me. The car zigzagged out of the road and I turned to look at Tony for help. When I returned my eyes to the road we were heading for a lamp-pole. The car rammed into the lamp-pole and the engine ticked to silence.

Before we could react, we saw a police car pull up not far from us. Afterwards, the cops took us to the station. Unknown to us, my father had already reported the car stolen. When he heard that it was Tony and I who had been caught with it, he called Tony's dad and they conspired to let the police detain us for the rest of the day and also overnight. They only came to fetch us in the morning.

Later that day, we went to a place behind Tony's house with a razor blade. I took the razor blade and made a small cut in Tony's palm, and he took the blade and did the same to my right palm. We waited for the blood to ooze out and then held together our cut hands in a firm handshake, declaring that we were blood brothers.

And thus we were brothers for many years. I would do anything for Tony, and he'd do anything for me. That's the way it is. We kept in touch even after Tony had gone to college and left me to finish my high school career. Tony got a degree in chemical engineering, and when he was twenty-one he knocked his girlfriend Carolyne pregnant. They got married, and six months after their marriage ceremony Frances, their daughter, was born.

* * * * *

We left for Oregon in the morning, Tony having called in sick at work, and trying but failing to convince Carolyne that we were going to a business convention. In the end, Tony was forced to tell her what I had told him: that a certain slime-ball by the name of Paul Winter needed some straightening out.

We checked out of the airport in Portland and rented a car before we drove to the address that Isabelle, my PA, had dug out. We found that Paul Winter had moved – no, been booted out – of that place. After three hours of driving and seven hundred dollars in greedy informants' pockets, we finally traced Paul Winter to a run-down drinking-hole downtown.

'We are looking for a guy by the name of Paul Winter,' I said to the barman when we got there, sliding a fifty-dollar-bill across the counter to him.

He indicated with his head a figure sitting not far from where we were standing. We crossed to this lone figure. 'Paul Winter?' I asked.

He looked up with bloodshot eyes. I quickly ran my eyes over him. A weasel-faced thin bastard with dirty disheveled hair and haggard lines on his face, with a scruffy stubble his chin. Guy was a washed-out loser. He squinted his eyes at us. 'Who's askin'?'

Tony grabbed the bastard's arm and forced him to his feet. 'Move, you piece of shit.' He force-marched the startled man out of the bar. A few heads turned our way, and then quickly turned back to mind their own businesses, deciding we were not worth their attention.

When we were outside, Tony threw Winter up against the wall and the thin man gasped as his back hit the wall. I came closer to them. 'Why're you blackmailing Father Wayne?'

'What's that to do with you?' Winter sneered insolently.

I slapped him hard across the face and blooded sprouted out of one corner of his mouth. 'That should shake your memory up. I repeat; why are you blackmailing Father Wayne? And who are you working for?'

'Nobody,' Winter answered quickly, the fear now written on his face. 'I swear I'm not working for anybody.' He shook his head as if to clear it. 'Since I was sacked by the magazine I've been struggling to get a job. Ad when I was taking a walk in the woods someday I just stumbled upon them, you know...Father—.'

'Yes,' I said impatiently. 'Then what happened?'

'I always carry a camera – I used to be a photographer for the magazine – and so I shot the pictures.' He paused and took a deep breath. 'Then I discovered who the man was and...you know...I needed the money...'

'Give us the pictures,' I demanded.

'No, I can't—.'

Tony's big fist caught Winter in the chest and he gasped out aloud. Tony grabbed him by the collar and pressed him against the wall. Winter cringed under Tony's hold. 'Don't make me break your bones, you fool,' Tony whispered in the terrified man's ear. 'Give us the pictures.'

Winter looked frightfully at Tony's angry face, aware that the big man could break his bones any minute. 'Okay, okay,' he squealed. 'I'll give you the pictures. But they're at my place.'

Tony pulled Winter and pushed him towards the car. I opened the door and Tony half threw the frightened man into the car, and then followed to sit with him in the back seat. I got behind the wheel and Winter gave me directions as I drove the car to his place. It took us a quarter of an hour to get to his place. A one-bedroom apartment badly in need of cleaning.

He led us to the bedroom, where he grabbed a small khaki package and handed it grudgingly to me. I pulled out the photos. It was Wayne alright, with a fair-haired woman, and the intimacy between them had been captured by the camera lens so much that the images looked real. Wayne was right, this stuff could wash him down the drain if Rome found out.

'The negatives,' I said to Winter.

'I-I-don't know where they are,' he stammered. 'I-I-lo-lost them.'

I laughed. 'Then we'll help you find them.' I dipped my hand into the pockets of my pants and brought out the knuckledusters. The consternation crept quickly to Winter's face as I slid the dusters onto my hand. Suddenly, he turned around with amazing alacrity and crossed to a chest of drawers at the other end of the room and began going through the drawers. Momentarily, he found what he was looking for and he handed me the negatives with a sigh of relief. I took the negatives and held them up to the light coming from the window. Satisfied, I shoved them into my pocket.

Abruptly, I swung so quickly that Winter didn't see me coming. My knuckleduster-clad fist caught him in the solar plexus and I heard the air escape from his lungs. He stood frozen motionless, his face colorless, for a second, and then he clutched his stomach in his hands and dropped to his knees.

I leaned down, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to his feet. I looked into his haggard face. 'Get out of town, you filthy bastard. I don't care where you go, just get the fuck out this town and make sure we never see you again. You understand?'

Quietly, Winter nodded his head.

Tony walked over to us and gave Winter a fierce scowl. 'You better mean that, 'cause if I ever see you in this town again you'll be lucky to walk away with your bones intact like today.'

I let go of Winter and he slumped to the floor. I pulled out my wallet and took out some notes from it. I threw the money at Winter. 'It's a thousand dollars. Take the money, and by the end of tomorrow the smell of you must have vanished from this town.'

Afterwards, when the plane shot into the sky, Tony turned to me. 'Think he'll leave?'

'He may be a fool, but his foolishness isn't greater than his awareness of danger.'

Chapter 5

January, 2002

I pressed a button on the remote device and then walked to the window. I took two marshmallows from the packet in my hand and placed them in my mouth, savoring the fluffy taste as I watched the big gate slide open. The nose of the car appeared and then the rest of its body came into view as it came through the gate. A metallic BMW Z8. I followed it with my eyes as it came up the driveway and stopped just under the window where I was standing.

When the door opened I was still standing there by the window. Clarissa Hagman walked in and closed the door. Wearing one of those sexy little miniskirts that career-girls love. Its black color contrasted sweetly with the white satin of her thighs. A white chiffon blouse added to the exquisiteness of her looks.

'You're certainly doing well for yourself,' I said to her.

She stared back at me with a blank expression.

'The Beemer,' I explained, throwing another marshmallow into my mouth.

'Oh. It's rented,' she responded, walking slowly towards me. 'At a ruinous expense, mind you, but it's a small price to pay to come and see the great Duncan Shelley.'

'I'm surprised to see you here.'

'Is that true?' She gave me a skeptical look. 'Then why did you give me your address and leave me four messages on my answering machine?'

I laughed.

She walked up to me and stopped inches away, so near that I could smell the spicy scent of her skin. 'Let's go and fuck,' she said. 'I didn't come all the way to New York just to talk to you. I want you inside of me, and see if you live up to the Shelley hype.'

I kissed her. 'I'm glad you came.' I grabbed her hand and led her to the bedroom. There, I pulled her closer to me and started to unfasten the top button of her blouse.

She grabbed my wrists in her hands. 'No. I like to do it with my clothes on,' she said, pushing me to the bed. 'Lie back and don't do anything. Let me be in command.'

I dropped myself onto the bed and lay watching her movements. The handbag that had been hanging from her shoulder was now held in her hands. She opened it and pulled out a CD case. She dropped the handbag carelessly to the floor and walked around the bed to the Hi-Fi. She flipped open the CD case and slotted the disc into the Hi-Fi. She pressed some buttons on the music system and momentarily loud opera music flooded the room.

'Even DAs have their peculiarities,' I said with a smile at her.

She grinned at me and walked around to the foot of the bed. She shoved her hands under her skirt and bent down as she pulled down her panties. When she had taken them off and flung them carelessly over her head, she climbed onto the bed and sank to her knees astride my legs. She began to unfasten the buckle of my belt and then unzipped the fly of my trousers before pulling them off my legs. I lifted my hips off the bed to aid her, and she pulled them down to my knees. She pulled down my briefs and my hard sprang out angrily, throbbing fiercely. She grabbed it and I felt her fingers tighten around its length. Her nails dug into its flesh as she held it firm like a bamboo pole in her hand. The music came in smooth diminuendo from the speakers.

'You're big and marvelous,' she said in a muffled whisper as she stared at my cock with absorbed interest. Then she pushed it forward like a gear lever flat against my belly and her other hand grabbed my balls and pushed them up. She lowered her head down and began to lick them, taking them inside her mouth and caressing them with her tongue and teeth.

The music was gradually growing into a crescendo, and the tenor voices were rising. Suddenly, she whimpered like a hungry puppy and brought her pelvis forward and clambered over me, still holding my cock in her hand as she guided it under her skirt. I placed my hands on her hips and pushed her skirt up to her waist. Another voice came into the music and started a long continuous wail. She shifted impatiently, making strange noises deep in her throat, and slowly lowered herself onto my shaft.

I grabbed her hips and pulled her down towards me, at the same time raising my pelvis to meet her. I plunged into her hot oily pool and she gasped aloud. 'Christ! You're dangerous!'

She began to rock herself back and forth to the falling rhythm of the music. She began to moan helplessly, and her moans were like additional punctuating effects to the music as she started to grind herself more rapidly to me, rubbing her clitoris against my rod. The music rose gradually to a crescendo and her body began to shudder as her first orgasm approached and jolted her body. She slammed harder into me as the music reached high pitch, and I grabbed her waist and smashed against her. She opened her mouth wide and started to let out shrieks of pain and ecstasy and didn't stop until I couldn't discern her voice from that in the music. Her open mouth became that of Luciano, and her voice and Luciano's became one.

She wailed louder as orgasm after orgasm seared through her body. She shuddered uncontrollably, and flooded me with the hot liquid fire of her wild passion. She jammed herself harder against me and in the frenzy of her pleasure tears streamed down her face, her hair flying in all directions as she rocked herself upon me. Suddenly, the music fell sharply to diminuendo and she created her final orgasm. Her body jerked still and she stiffened and fell into a trance, hanging there balanced on my cock, and I felt the onrushing stream of her juices sliding down my shaft, past my pubic hairs and down to my balls. She stayed like that for a moment, her eyes unmoving, glazed and their pupils dilated. She collapsed and fell onto me in a dead faint. The music came to a stop.

I felt the warm air of her breathing against my neck as she lay unconscious, and I caressed her hips and buttocks, waiting for her to regain her senses. After some time she stirred awake. She slowly propped herself on her elbows and looked down at me. I noticed the surprise in her eyes as she became aware that I was still hard inside her. She began to say something but I grabbed her and quickly spun her around onto her back. I came on top of her and smashed my pelvis hard against her and she screamed excitedly. 'God! Oh Lord!'

She brought up her legs and wedged her knees under my armpits and pressed them against the sides of my chest and her hips opened wide under me. I thrust harder and deeper into her and she began to pant like a galloping horse. A wave of orgasm seized her body and she screamed loud against my ear. I jammed myself more rapidly into her and she cried, 'Oh Duncan!...Duncan, I'm dying!...Please cum with me!'

I felt my orgasm building up and I heaved and made one last thrust into her. I gripped her body and held on tightly to her as I exploded inside her. She crushed herself against me and another wave of orgasm wracked her body. She screamed so loud I thought she would shatter my eardrums. We clung to each other as the crazy moment of our mutual climaxing died and lay like that for a long moment afterwards.

She was the first to speak. 'Jesus!' she exclaimed in a whisper against my ear. 'I feel like a bitch!'

'You are. And I hate bitches.'

She slapped my back with the palm of her hand. 'Where did you learn to fuck like that?'

'I was trained by the best,' I told her. Memories of Vietnam and Paris flashed back to me.

'Trained? You're kidding, right?'

'No. I'm still strong inside you, aren't I?'

I heard her catch her breath as she realized the truth in my words. 'Jesus! How long can you go?'

'Another 20 minutes, more-or-less. You want another round?'

'No. I need more time to create more juices. I'm completely sexed out right now.'

I pulled out of her and rolled onto my back. She stretched my arm and rested her head on it. I stroked her hair with my other hand and we were silent for a while.

Again, she broke the silence. 'It was fantastic. You were my first.'

It was my turn to be surprised. I laughed, 'That's a joke, of course?'

'It's true,' she said. 'You are the first to make me scream. It has never been that good for me.'

We lay quiet for a while.

'So,' she said suddenly. 'What else, besides fucking, do your other activities include?'

'Taking beautiful ladies on visits to beautiful places of the world,' I said and reached across her for the two tickets on the bedside table and lay back, handing them to her.

'Two plane tickets to Italy this weekend.'

'One is in my name,' she said, propping herself up on one elbow and staring down at me with a curious little smile. 'What makes you think I'll go with you?'

'There's no ring on your hand, and a few minutes ago I made you fall in love with my dick.'

Her smile broadened. 'You're very sure of yourself, Mr. Shelley, aren't you?'

I smiled back. 'I try.'

* * * * *

We left on Friday, and I took her to the Hotel Excelsior in Rome. We checked into Via Veneto's most exquisite suite, which I had already reserved, for ten thousand dollars a night, breakfast not included. But that doesn't matter when you know you're getting the best. What with its massive size equal to the size of five large houses, the suite had a main bedroom with its own balcony and a four-poster bed, a large second bedroom, six smaller bedrooms and a study with a telephone, fax and computer. The living room adjoined an enormous dining room, and there was also a mini cinema, swimming pool, sauna, marble staircase, private lift and a terrace big enough to throw a party on.

The suite came with the best equipment money could buy. It was furnished with seven modern TV sets, five of the latest CD players, and a fully equipped gym. The floors were made of marble, and the majestic chandeliers had come from the Murano Island in Venice, and there were impressive mosaics on the walls. In the dining room, one of the walls functioned as a wine cellar, with a selection of the finest wines from Italy, France, Spain and California, their storage temperatures always kept perfect.

'Undoubtedly the most prestigious hotel suite in Europe,' Clarissa said in awe as we completed a tour around the suite. 'How many women have you brought here?'

'One.' I replied, gazing into her beautiful eyes. 'And she's with me right here right now. You believe that, don't you?'

She looked back into my eyes. 'I do, because I know you're telling the truth. And I also know something else.'

I stared my question.

'That I've fallen hopelessly in love with you,' she said. 'And I wish it stays like that forever.'

Then suddenly she came hard up against me and held me in a tight embrace, burying her head in my chest. I heard her muffled sobs. 'Why're you crying?'

She looked up at me and her eyes were wet with tears. 'Because for the first time in my life I feel the happiness of being in love. And it is so beautiful I can't help but cry.' Again, she buried her head into my chest. 'Hold me, Duncan. Just hold me.'

* * * * *

Saturday, we woke up early and swam for a while before ordering breakfast, which we had on the terrace.

'Don't you miss your marshmallows,' Clarissa asked all of a sudden.

'How did you know?' I really wasn't. I was having too good a time for any nostalgic feelings to attack me.

'Let's take a walk,' she suggested. 'We'll find some in a shop somewhere.'

We walked around, sightseeing, discovering places, throwing dimes in fountains which were supposed to bring good luck.

'What did you wish for?' I asked at one of them.

'That this heaven I'm in right now never ends,' she said delightedly. 'What was your wish?'

'I can't tell you.'

'Oh come on, that's cheating,' she protested. 'I told you mine.'

'Sorry, baby, can't tell you mine,' I repeated with a serious face.

A hurt expression came to her face and she pouted like a child. 'Suit yourself,' she muttered and with sulky indifference strutted off with her arms across her chest.

I shook my head imperceptibly and ran after her. 'Baby, wait,' I said, touching her on the shoulder. She stopped and looked away. 'I can't tell you now, but I'll tell you tomorrow. I promise.'

She shifted her gaze to me. 'Promise, promise?'

'Promise, promise. So, stop this foolish sulking.' I tickled her ribs and she giggled, trying to break free of my hold. She tickled me back and for that moment we were two young kids with no worries in the world.

In the evening I surprised her with tickets to the opera to see a performance by Jose Carreras, Placido Domingo and Luciano Pavarotti. It was a delightful night; the three tenors gave the audience a brilliant performance and left us yearning for more.

Afterwards, we sat in our hired limo as it took us back to the hotel. 'Did you enjoy it?' I asked her.

She looked at me without answering and then she leaned forward and pressed a button. The glass partition rose up and cut us from the chauffeur. 'It was wonderful,' said Clarissa. 'By the end of the show I was so wet I thought I would stick onto the chair.'

I laughed and kissed her. 'Is there any left for me?'

'It won't stop coming. I can't wait to get back at the hotel and drown you with my juices.'

We eventually arrived at the Excelsior and did a lot of damage to the four-poster bed in our suite. They must have installed another bed after out departure. In the morning, we ordered breakfast in bed and lingered around the suite until about midday, when we went sightseeing and then later shopping. When I got a chance, I left Clarissa in a boutique and made my way discreetly to a jewelry store. When I eventually emerged out of the store I had a thirty-four-carat diamond ring safely tucked away in one of my pockets. I rushed back to the boutique and lied to Clarissa about where I'd been.

We returned to the hotel and I switched on the TV in the living room. A tennis match was on. Then to my annoyance I remembered that I had meant to watch it. The French Open final. Medvedev against Agassi. They were now in the final set of the match.

I dropped myself into a chair and became absorbed in the match. I hardly heard Clarissa saying she was going to take a shower. She reappeared a quarter of an hour later, wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe. I was still watching the tennis, and it was becoming clear that Agassi would win the match. 'Come sit here.'

She came and lowered herself onto my lap, bringing her legs up onto the couch. I gently stroked her hair, still wet from the shower, and then I shoved my other hand between her thighs and stroked her pussy.

'What're you doing?' she asked with a wonderful smile on her face.

'I wanna check if you washed it properly,' I said and rushed to add, 'Uh-oh, it seems you didn't. There's something in it.'

I creased my forehead in concentration. 'Ah-yes. Got it. Here it is.' I pulled my hand out from between her legs and opened my palm for her to see.

Her eyes widened as she stared at the diamond ring in my hand, but she didn't say anything.

'I want you to marry me,' I said.

'Oh my God!' she gasped in surprise and for the first time since I'd known her blushed. She covered her face in her hands for a long moment, and then she threw her arms around me in an affectionate hug. 'Yes! Oh yes, Duncan. I will marry you,' she said delightedly.

'And that, my beautiful fiancée, is what I made a wish to hear.'

She was still holding on to me tight. 'I love you, Duncan. I love you very much.'

In the TV I saw Andre Agassi punch the air and the tears rolled down his face. Tears of victory. I understood his tears perfectly at that moment. He and I became one. His tears became my tears. Tears of happiness. Happiness that we had got what we wanted.

Chapter 6

Early February, 2002

We stood at the terrace, holding glasses of Scotch whisky and gazing at the scenery below us. I moved my eyes to the swimming pool and watched a woman do a backstroke to the edge of the pool. She lifted herself out of the water and sat on the tiled edge of the pool, her legs immersed in the water. Suddenly, she looked up and caught me staring at her. She waved her right hand and I waved back at her.

I shifted my gaze to the man standing beside me. My brother, Brett. He had a troubled look on his face, and he still hadn't sipped a drop of his Scotch.

Brett had never had a chance. After Yale, he had worked for five years at a law firm. Then he had a brief stint on the staff of Oregon Senator Ricky Marshall before leaving for Washington, DC, to work under the Secretary of State, a job undoubtedly arranged for him by Dad. At twenty-eight, Brett came back to Oregon to start his conquests. With Dad putting money in the right pockets, it didn't take long for Brett's name to be whispered in Colorado political circles. He joined the Democrats, following the footsteps of his hero, JFK, and by the age of thirty he was in a comfortable enough position within the party for names like high-achiever to be used to describe him.

At thirty, he married Debbie Marshall, Senator Ricky Marshall's daughter. The papers hailed them as the future couple of the White House, and the wedding was attended by all Colorado aristocrats.

Today, here he was, standing beside me. Forty years old, two years older than me and a US Lower House Representative, destined to become Governor of Colorado.

'Nice place you got here,' he remarked. 'Though too big for a bachelor.'

'I try to enjoy life.' I firmly believe in spending the money I make to get me my creature comforts.

He turned to me with a worried look and I noticed the weariness of his face. 'I need your help.'

Only two weeks ago Wayne Shelley had uttered more-or-less the same words, and now it was Brett Shelley. So much for having a brother in front of me and another behind me.

'I want you to talk to Debbie,' said Brett. 'She thinks I'm having an affair, and she won't believe me when I tell her it's not true.'

I took a sip of my drink.

'You have to talk to her,' continued my brother. 'She trusts you, and she'll believe what you say.'

'Is there any reason for her suspicions?'

He looked away. 'About a year ago I got involved with someone...she was my secretary...it wasn't serious. Just a crazy fling. On one occasion we got naughty and shot pictures of ourselves using a self-operational camera. We stopped seeing each other, but she kept the pictures,' he paused and took the first gulp of his Scotch. 'Then recently somebody sent Debbie a letter with two of the crude photos.'

I whistled my astonishment. I felt a sudden, fierce craving for marshmallows and I went inside the house and came back with a packet in my hand. I threw two pink marshmallows into my mouth and asked my brother, 'Did she do it?'

'No, she can't have,' he replied. 'She's dead.'

'Then who could've sent the pictures?'

'No doubt somebody trying to destroy my marriage and hence my political career. I think I recognize the writing in the letter.'

I stared silently at him.

'One of my campaign aides, Diane Thomas.'

The warning lights flashed in my head. You can't know a man thirty-eight years of his life without learning a dozen things about him. I looked him steadily in the face. 'You banged her, didn't you?'

He sighed and took a long pull at his drink. 'It just happened. We were busy on the campaign trail, spending most of the time away from home and sleeping in hotels.' He shrugged. 'Something like that is bound to happen. You understand, don't you?'

'I do, but Debbie won't.'

'You've got to talk to her,' he said, a sudden despair in his voice. 'Make her believe I don't know anything about those pictures. She'll believe it if it comes from you because she trusts you. I know that.'

I turned my eyes away from him and cast me gaze at the woman next door. She was back in the water, and was swiftly wiggling her body towards one end of the pool, her arms stretched straight in front of her. An expert swimmer. I made a sudden resolution to swim with her someday in the near future, but then immediately crushed that resolve, having just remembered that I was engaged to be married.

I turned back to face Brett. 'Tell me about Diane.'

'What's there to tell?' he asked miserably. 'I made the mistake of fucking her and now the stupid bitch can't get it into her thick head that it's over between us.'

'I'm sorry to sound reproachful, big brother, but haven't you heard the one about a woman scorned?' I threw the last marshmallow sweet into my mouth and let it rest there.

'Damn her!' Brett said heatedly. He swilled the rest of his whisky and for a second I thought he was going to throw the glass away, but he didn't. 'Debbie hates my guts at the moment,' he said bitterly. 'She has threatened to leave me.'

Slowly he shifted his gaze from me and looked away. A distant look came to his eyes. 'You remember the time when we were kids and we used to laugh and play and had no worries in the world, when every time Uncle Gio visited we jumped into his arms and he gave us presents, when we went to his ranch in Texas and had a good time, when Mom read stories to us by the fireplace, when Mom and Dad took us shopping for Christmas, when they went with us to Disneyland...?' His voice trailed off and he turned to me with watery eyes.

'What happened to those times, Duncan?'

I missed them too. 'We grew up.'

* * * * *

Three days later I was in Portland, Oregon. Diane was surprised to see me when she opened the door.

'What're you doing here?' she asked with a happy smile. 'Have you finally decided you miss me, after all?'

I entered into her apartment and shot straight to the point. 'I need the pictures, Diane.'

She let out an incredulous laugh. 'So, big brother has told you about it.' She made it sound like a statement. She folded her arms across her chest and faced me with an angry look. 'Did he also tell you about me and him?'

'Yes.'

'And did he also tell you that he killed a friend of mine?'

Jesus! 'What?' I must have yelled in surprise because she jumped back. I crossed to the only couch in the room and lethargically lowered myself into it. 'Alright, Diane, let's have it.'

She walked to a chair opposite me and sat down, hugging her shoulders with both hands. 'It was months ago when we were on the campaign tour. I went to Brett's room to give him some papers he had requested. When I opened the door to his room I heard voices coming from the inside and I stopped and listened. I heard two voices; one of them was Brett's. They were discussing getting rid of my friend and roommate, Sharon. I stayed there for about a minute and then closed the door and hurried away, convinced that they were plotting Sharon's death.'

'Your friend – Sharon – was she Brett's secretary?'

'Yes, Diane answered. 'I told her later in our room what I'd heard and she panicked, suspecting that Brett might try to erase her from his past because of their affair, which could cause a scandal if it ever surfaced. So she gave me some pictures...you know...of her and Brett in the nude. She said I should hold on to them while she went to talk to a lawyer friend of hers for advice. She told me that if anything happened to her I should go with the pictures to the police and tell them her story.'

I didn't have to look at her twice to know she was telling the truth.

She swallowed hard and fought back tears. 'Sharon never got to her lawyer friend,' Diane continued. 'She died in a car crash on her way there. The police didn't suspect any foul play, but I know it wasn't an accident. It must have been arranged by the man whose voice I heard talking with Brett in the hotel room.' Diane brought her legs up on the chair and hugged her knees to her chest. 'I didn't go to the police because Brett and I got involved and I fell in love with him. I couldn't hurt him.'

I was beginning to get the picture. 'But then he hurt you.'

'Yes,' she said and her voice broke. 'I love him, but he's acting like nothing ever happened between us. He's treating me like an annoying pest.' She began to sob bitterly. 'One day I got angry with his attitude towards me and sent his wife two of the pictures Sharon left me. I wanted him to feel the pain he was causing me.'

'But then you're hurting more people,' I said carefully. 'His wife and kids will be hurt by this if it explodes.'

'I know,' Diane cried. 'And I'm sorry. I don't want to destroy Brett or his marriage. It's just that he doesn't want to listen to me. I never meant for him to leave his wife. I told him we could see each other discreetly but he couldn't understand. I even went to New York with you to make him jealous.'

Funny how the truth hurts. I wanted to protest that I had been used, but decided against it.

'I would never do anything to hurt Brett,' she said, wiping away her tears with the back of her hands. 'It's just that he made me so mad I lost my head.'

I stood up and crossed to her. I got to my knees before her and took her hands in mine. 'I'm sorry, Diane. I didn't know about all this.'

'It's okay,' she said. 'I want to let bygones be bygones. I'll give you the pictures and you'll burn them.'

I smiled at her. 'Thank you.'

She didn't move. She stared at me with a worried look. 'It's not all,' she said with some difficulty. 'I also sent two other pictures to the police with a letter about Brett's affair with Sharon.' Again, her eyes watered and the tears ran down her face. 'It's too late, Duncan,' she cried. 'There's nothing we can do to stop it now...'

'Don't worry yourself,' I consoled. 'I'll get it sorted out, alright?'

She nodded reluctantly.

'Just get me the pictures and don't worry about a thing.'

She got up and walked away to fetch the pictures.

* * * * *

Shortly afterwards, I was driving away towards Brett and Debbie's house. On the way, I made a stop at a photo-fix joint and had a few pictures made for me.

'Well, if it isn't my maverick brother in law,' Debbie said with genuine delight when she opened the door for me.

I was about to respond when the two children appeared from nowhere screaming with joy. 'Daddy Duncan! Daddy Duncan!' they shouted and came running to me.

I knelt down and opened my arms. They charged into me and I scooped them in my arms and kissed them. The elder one, the girl, aged nine, jumped down and started frisking my pockets. 'Sweets, Daddy Duncan! Sweets!' she shouted noisily and was quickly joined by her brother.

I pulled out two packets of marshmallows and waved them in my hands. 'Now, have you been good children?'

'Yes, Daddy Duncan!' they shouted gleefully.

I handed them each a packet of the sweets and the boy turned to their mother. 'Mommy, look! Daddy Duncan gave us sweets!'

'Okay, honey,' said Debbie. 'Now you and Kelly go upstairs and play there, okay?'

'Okay!' the children shouted, already running up the stairs.

I watched them disappear and laughed.

Debbie said, 'You're spoiling them.' She sounded amused.

'Old habits die hard,' I said. 'I just happened to have two packets in my pocket.'

'You're good, you know that?' she asked with a slight lift of her eyebrows. Suddenly she flung herself into my arms and embraced me. 'It's good to see you, Duncan. I missed you a lot, man.'

I returned her hug and said softly. 'I was there at Brett's party.'

'I know,' she responded. 'But I didn't get you to myself there. There were too many women fighting to be by your side.'

We held each other like that for a long moment and then I felt her slowly pulling herself from my arms. She looked at me with a keen interest on her face. 'You're lovely and beautiful,' she said. 'Still as beautiful as you were at school.'

I pinched her cheek. 'And you're as lovely as a queen yourself.'

'Still got the charm too,' she said with a pleasant smile. 'You don't have to flatter me. I'm growing fat and you're too kind to say it.'

I deliberately moved my eyes all over her body. 'I don't see any fat. If it's there then it has only made you smashing.'

She laughed and crossed to the couch. I followed her and we sat down. Still grinning, she said, 'You're still clever with words too.'

'It's true. You're still the lovely Debbie Marshall, the gorgeous cheerleader that every guy at school wanted to date.'

'And take to bed,' she said with a glimmer in her eyes. 'Every guy except you, Duncan. You know I once had a mad crush on you?'

The memories were still fresh in my mind. 'Really?'

'Don't play dumb with me,' she said with mild reproach. 'I asked you out three times and you turned me down on each occasion.' She gave me a curious expression. 'Why?'

I could have told her that I was madly in love with someone else at that time. But bringing in Jessica Gauld didn't seem like a good idea. 'My brother had his eyes on you,' I answered.

'Yeah, right,' she said in a dead voice. 'And I married him and we lived happily ever after,' she added sarcastically.

'I know about your misunderstanding,' I told her. 'Brett told me.'

She didn't respond.

'Nothing happened between him and that woman. It's somebody – probably his political opponents – trying to tarnish his reputation with these malicious rumors.'

She remained quiet.

'Look at this,' I said, and pulled out of my breast pocket some pictures, which I handed to her. 'Those were made by the guys at a photo-fix joint,' I explained. 'They can create any picture you want. You can come out standing with a shark, in the Titanic, with Nicolas Cage...just about anything you want. So, whoever sent those pictures of Brett and the woman must have had them arranged at one of those joints.'

Debbie studied the pictures I had given her and I held my breath, feeling the sweat breaking out in my underarms. 'Why would they do something like that to him?' she asked slowly.

I expelled the air from my lungs slowly, inaudibly. Good going so far. 'Obviously to create a scandal that'll wash his political career down the drain.'

She looked into my eyes and I had difficulty bringing myself to meet her gaze. 'Those pictures...you...know...of Brett and...' She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence. '...They were authentic. I'll get them and show them to you.'

She made to leave but I tugged at her sleeve. 'You don't have to.'

She moved away from me and began to pace about the room. Then she came to a stop by the fireplace and turned to me. 'Tell me something, Duncan.'

I waited silently.

'Did Brett sleep with that woman?' she asked and quickly added, 'I want to know the truth. You've never lied to me. Don't try to make this the first time.'

I just sat there on the couch and stared at her.

She picked it from my eyes. 'He did, didn't he?'

I nodded. 'I'm sorry, Debbie. I was trying my best to help both you and Brett. If you let this thing tear you apart it will destroy both of you.'

'I know,' she conceded softly.

'He said you threatened to leave him,' I said in a half-question half-statement.

She sighed. 'Yeah. I did that to let him know that I care about him, and he mustn't ever do anything like that again.'

I relaxed back on the couch. 'You must try to spend time with him. When his job takes him on long trips go with him and be by his side.'

She walked back to the couch and sat down next to me. 'I know I should do that, but I don't want to get involved in politics. All my life I've known nothing else but politics, because I was brought up in a strongly political family, and then I was stupid enough to marry a politician.' She let out a loud, tired sigh. 'Sometimes I feel like getting away from it all, but then I could never leave the kids.'

'I think you and Brett should get away for a while,' I said. 'I'll persuade him to take a vacation. Go to Bahamas or Hawaii.'

A happy smile broke out on her face. 'Thank you, Duncan. Like I said before, you are very good and kind. There are times I wish that I had married you instead.' She sounded like she meant it.

'There have been moments when Brett is away and I feel so lonely that I lay awake at night and really start missing you, and wish I was with you going on those crazy expeditions you always take.' She squeezed my hand in her palm. As small a gesture as that was, we were both aware of the unspoken messages it sent.

A moment's silence passed before she spoke again. 'After all these years, you're the only one who can still effortlessly make me laugh and be happy.'

I was silent.

'Guess that crush on you never vanished, huh?'

'Maybe it'll help if I told you that I'm getting married.'

That really astonished her. 'Tell me that's a joke.'

'I'm serious.'

'Which woman finally got her clutches on you?' she asked with interested fascination.

I delayed answering, to keep her in suspense.

'Well?' she asked impatiently.

'Well what?'

'Come on, Duncan.' She slapped my shoulder.

'Ouch!' I cried. 'Okay, okay, I'll tell you. It's Clarissa Hagman, the—.'

'I know who she is,' Debbie interrupted. 'The bitch!' she said vehemently.

I was genuinely surprised by her reaction. 'What?'

'Oh, I'm sorry, Duncan. I don't wanna sound jealous, but I think you're making a big mistake.' She gave me a concerned look. 'Clarissa doesn't care about anything or anyone but herself and her job. She's probably using you to advance her career.'

I was quiet.

'I'm sorry I had to say that, but I don't want to see you getting hurt.'

'Thanks for caring,' said I. 'But I think you're wrong.' I looked down, trying to control myself from getting angry at her.

'Listen to me, Duncan,' she said gently. 'I'll tell you something right now. I know that I've always loved you, and sometimes I make fantasies like a love-struck teenager about us being together, but I also know that I can never have you. I've learned to live with that.'

'So?' I sensed it coming.

'So I'm not criticizing Clarissa out of jealousy,' she said seriously.

I stayed quiet and my eyes looked for things to stare at on the floor.

'Look,' said Debbie. 'We've been friends for a long time, and we've never lied to each other. You know me even better than Brett. You're the first person who would know if I was lying.'

I remained quiet.

'Look at me, Duncan,' she ordered.

I brought my gaze up to meet her eyes.

'Save yourself a lot of trouble and go back to New York and forget about Clarissa. Marrying that bitch will be the biggest mistake you'll ever make.'

I stood up and took some paces before stopping by the fireplace. 'Debbie, why do you hate her so much?'

'Because I know her and what she's capable of,' Debbie responded calmly. 'She's the kind that will marry a man either for his wealth or his social standing.'

'How do you know all that?'

'Because I'm a woman. It's easy for a woman to be aware of the hidden qualities of another woman that men are usually blind to. And, because you live far away in New York, you're not abreast with the rumors circulated by the Portland underground.'

It dawned on me then. 'There's something you're not telling me.' It was not a question. A simple statement.

'I'm sorry, Duncan,' she said. 'I didn't want it to come to this.'

'Just tell me,' I said rashly.

'There's been a rumor that your father and Clarissa are an item.'

I stood still and felt my heart pounding excitedly inside me.

'Clarissa is after money,' Debbie's voice suddenly sounded far away. 'She's a gold digger.'

I was mystified. Speechless. I stood frozen there by the fireplace, totally shattered by what I'd just heard. Trying to convince myself that what I'd just heard was not true; could not be true. Hoping that it was all an unpleasant dream. For the first time in my life I wished that Debbie was lying to me.

She wasn't, as I found out a few hours later.

Chapter 7

I stormed violently into her office. She was taken aback for a moment, and then her face broke into a smile, but the smile soon disappeared when she realized that I was in an unpleasant mood.

I walked up to her desk and stood staring down at her, sitting behind her big desk. 'What're you playing at?' I asked furiously.

The surprise was written on her face. 'Duncan, wha—.'

'Answer my question!' I yelled.

'Keep your voice down. This is a public place.' She got up and came round the desk to close the door. She turned the key in the lock and then came closer to me and placed a hand on my shoulder, a look of deep worry on her face.

I brushed her hand away. 'Get your hands off me! You filthy whore!'

A hurt look came to her eyes. 'Obviously you are upset,' she said quietly. 'I think it will be better if you calm down and we talk about this.'

'Don't give me that crap,' I said harshly. 'I want answers, and I want them now!'

She flinched away and stood watching me, and I saw the shock creeping into her eyes. Shocked at this side of me she hadn't realized before. Slowly she walked back round the desk and eased herself into her chair. In a soft voice, she asked, 'Okay, what is bothering you?'

I placed both my hands on the desk and glared down at her. 'I've got one question and I think you owe it to me to give me an honest answer.'

'I will,' she said, almost inaudibly.

In spite of my anger, her calm, innocent-looking face made me feel like a brute, and I sat down and for a while I was silent, letting my anger subside. 'Have you been sleeping with my father?' I asked with difficulty.

I saw the sudden change in her face and even before she said it I knew the answer. 'Yes, she replied quietly. 'But not since I met you.'

My anger rushed back forcefully and gripped every inch of my body. I felt the sickness rise in my throat. 'Jesus! Clarissa!' I shot to my feet, ran a hand through my hair and felt my body shake uncontrollably with rage. I only just managed to talk. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

She got to her feet and slowly, almost timidly, came round the desk towards me. She stopped two paces away. 'I'm very sorry, Duncan. I was going to—.'

'Bullshit! You were screwing my father and me at the same time,' I accused. 'You must be very proud of your conquests,' I added sarcastically.

'I understand your anger—.'

'Do you?' I fired quickly, not giving her a chance to respond. 'No, I don't think so. You're a leech, Clarissa. You don't have feelings. You wanted my family name and money and it didn't matter which one of us you got, so long as it was a Shelley.'

Suddenly her self-control broke and I noticed the fiery light of anger in her eyes. 'You know, you're right,' she said heatedly. 'That's exactly what I wanted.'

I stared at her in disbelief.

'Yes, that's right. All my life I've wanted to be somebody. I don't remember a time when I didn't wish to be up there with the people who counted in life.' Her voice broke and the words choked out. 'You don't know how terrible growing up poor is because you've been wealthy all your life. Poverty eats away at your very soul and each day you fight to get out of its clutches.'

I saw the tears well up in her eyes. 'When I was young I promised myself that I would get to the top someday in life. And it doesn't matter how I do that, as long as I get to the top; the end justifies the means.'

She seemed to deflate suddenly right there in front of me. The anger that had flooded my body had completely vanished and I felt nothing. Nothing except the sympathy that filled all my cells.

'I've had to give my body to men to get where I am,' she said in a faltering voice. 'You were right. Your father was also part of my schemes. He's a widower and is available. I needed to coax him into marriage and then I would be a somebody.'

And to think that I had doubted Debbie. I started to say something but Clarissa stopped me. 'Let me finish while I can,' she said and paused for a moment. 'I was going to trap your father into marrying me, but then I met you. I fell in love with you, Duncan,' she said, looking into my eyes. Everything else didn't matter when I found you. I began to realize the love that I've missed all my life. You're everything I want, Duncan.'

'Do you really mean that?' Excuse me for asking, but...

'With all my heart,' she said convincingly. 'I swear on everything I have that when it comes to you it's what you are, not who you are, that matters to me. Not the money or your social standing.'

A long moment of silence passed. It was eventually disturbed by the phone ringing. She leaned across the desk to pick it up. She cut the call without answering it, and instead of replacing the receiver she placed it on the desk. Then she looked back at me. 'I didn't want you to find out about me and your father like this,' she said nervously. 'I'm deeply sorry about that. I wanted to tell you myself but I was afraid.'

'Where do we go from here?' The million dollar question.

'I want us to go on loving each other,' her reply came quietly.

'I don't know if I can still trust you,' I told her.

We were silent for some time, just standing there staring at each other. Then I walked to the door and turned the key. I placed my hand on the doorknob to open it but paused when I heard her voice coming to me from behind.

'Duncan,' she called me in a whisper.

God, I loved that voice! I turned to face her.

'Will we see each other again?' she asked in a shaky voice.

'I don't know.'

'I know that voice,' she said sorrowfully. 'It means this is the end.' She began to sob bitterly. 'All my life has been a series of losses. When I was five I lost my favorite pet. When I was eleven I lost both my parents. Last year I lost a major case. And now I'm losing the only person I've ever really loved.'

I opened the door and walked out.

* * * * *

It was on the plane back to New York that I remembered that I had intended to ask Clarissa to do something about the pictures of Brett that Diane had sent to the police.

Nothing had gone right. I was still shattered by Clarissa's revelations of herself. I had a terrible flight to New York, thinking about her all the time. We could still get back together. All hope was not lost.

I was wrong.

I returned to Colorado to talk to Clarissa about Brett's problem and came back convinced that all hope was gone. We had a quarrel that left me shaking with rage and grief. The close, warm relationship that had existed between us was broken once and for all. It was impossible for us to go on loving each other.

I got very upset and knew that I needed some time away, by myself. So, when I got back to New York, I told Isabelle, my PA, that I would be away for some days, and that she should take charge of the office. I didn't tell her where I was going. She would have to hold all important business until I returned.

That evening, I went off towards the Hudson River. I had a yacht docked there near Manhattan. Tom, the guy who took care of the yacht, was, as usual, glad to see me there when I arrived. This is a man I had picked up while he was homeless and hired to live on the yacht. Moving from the cold winters of the streets of New York to the comfort of a luxury yacht was something he had never dreamt of even in his wildest dreams.

Shane must have smelt my presence because he came charging in a run, barking excitedly. I crouched down to welcome him, and he lifted his front paws onto my shoulders and licked my face. Already, I was forgetting my blues. Trust Shane to do that. Everyone could betray me, but as long as I had Shane, I didn't care. He was always loyal. He gave me unconditional love.

I gave Tom some money and told him to lay-off for five days. Then I steered the boat off the dock and out to sea, with Shane howling in joy. After five days of staying on the yacht, I returned to my normal life feeling refreshed and ready to slay new beasts. I had no idea what lay I in store for me.

It seemed all hell had broken loose at work. Everyone was looking for me, and nobody had any idea where I was. The relief was clear on Isabelle's face when she saw me as I entered into the office.

'Mr. Shelley, you don't know how relieved I am to see you. I spent the last 24 hours trying to locate you.'

'I thought I told you not to anything of the sort,' I said in a reproachful tone.

'Yes, I know,' she said impatiently. 'But Mr. Shelley Senior insisted I should find you.'

I grew suspicious. 'What's up?'

'I don't know. Mr. Shelley just said to tell you to catch the next flight to Portland as soon as you got back. He said it's urgent.'

I quickly went to the phone and dialed Dad's work number. He wasn't in the office, but his secretary gave me something like what Isabelle had already told me. 'He said you should rush...'

I cut off the call and dialed Dad's home number. It was answered by one of the servants at the villa. Same story. Dad wasn't at home, but "...He said you should come to Denver promptly..."

I knew then that something was wrong. I asked Isabelle to immediately book me the earliest flight to Portland. Then I quickly drove to my place in Scarsdale. The front door wasn't locked when I tried it. I cursed myself for being careless. I got inside and discovered to my surprise that I hadn't, after all, left the door unlocked.

Clarissa was inside.

I was genuinely astonished to see her there.

'How did you get in?' Stupid question. I knew that I had arranged for her own remote control for the gate and also given her a set of keys for the house.

She was sitting on a couch when I entered, but stood up when she saw me. I walked closer to her and noticed the tears wetting her face.

'I'm so sorry, Duncan,' she cried. 'I didn't know it would come to this.'

'I'm sorry too, Clarissa, but there's nothing else we can do about it.'

'I don't know how I'm going to live with a thing like this,' she sobbed. 'It weighs heavily on my conscience.'

She looked pathetic with her crying. 'It will pass,' I said. 'You'll find somebody someday.'

'I'll find...' Her voice trailed off and she stared at me with an expression I couldn't decipher. 'My God!' she exclaimed suddenly, alarming me. 'You don't know, do you? You haven't heard?'

'What?' I asked cautiously.

'Oh my God!' she cried. 'I don't know how to tell you this.'

I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. 'Tell me, damnit!'

Her voice came in a stammer. 'Your brother...Brett...is...is...dead.'

Chapter 8

End of February, 2002

I woke up from my deep slumber with some difficulty. I lay there on the bed and tried to figure out where I was. It took me some time to realize that I was at my house.

I rose slowly and sat up on the bed. It was then that I discovered the heat I'd been feeling had been caused by the sunlight coming in through then windows. I crossed to the window and pulled the curtains shut.

The glass on the headboard reminded me that I had been drinking after taking sleeping pills. So, they had not killed me. So much for medical claims. But anyhow, I hadn't expected to die in my sleep.

I checked the time on my Rolex; it was around 4PM. It was time to go. This was OSD day. And a man doesn't like to be late for a date with fate.

I walked out of the house and locked the door, even though that wasn't necessary. But then again, I didn't want burglars to loot my heir's fortune. I got into the SL and pulled out of the driveway. I pressed a button in the car when I neared the gate and silently the top pulled itself back.

I drove the convertible as an open-top at a leisurely pace towards my destination. The sea. I beamed with anticipation at the thought of meeting Shane. A pity that I would be leaving him soon. I had driven for some miles out of my neighborhood when I saw someone at a distance up ahead flagging me for a lift. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have stopped, for fear of putting both my life and that of the SL at risk. But then, this was a day when nothing else mattered anymore. Anything could happen, I didn't care.

I slowed the car and pulled over by the side of the road, next to the figure that had flagged me down. It was a girl. I hadn't been able to tell from a distance. She was wearing a big T-shirt over a pair of tights that ended at her knees. She was short in height. I put my guess of her age at 15. Her jet-black hair was tied in a pony-tail at the back of her head. It was the most beautiful, blackest hair I'd ever seen.

She edged closer to the car. The sweet smell of her fragrance hit me. I was slightly taken aback because the 15-year-olds I know don't use Channel № 5. Her face broke into a pretty smile. She was wearing no make-up, but still, I realized that she was a beautiful girl. A natural beauty.

'Where're you going?' she demanded rudely, but she had a pleasant voice.

I didn't answer immediately, because my gaze was fixed on her eyes. This kid had very green eyes. I do believe they were the greenest emerald eyes I will ever see. They made me forget her question.

'Where're you going?' she repeated.

'I'm going to the sea to kill myself.'

She didn't bat an eyelid. 'Mind if I join you?'

I won't pretend I was not surprised. 'Hop in.'

With a show of agility and a complete lack of manners, she literally hopped into the car, jumping over the door and settling herself in the seat next to me. I set the car in motion again and continued driving at a casual pace. Soon, my mind drifted and I forgot about my passenger.

Her sudden question jarred me back. 'You're really gonna do it?'

'Yes. Recent occurrences in my life have made it unfavorable for me to go on living. It's time for OSD.'

She stared at me without talking.

'Operation Self-Destruction,' I explained.

'Oh,' she said faintly. 'How are you gonna do that?'

'I'm gonna sink my boat into the sea, and therefore depart from this treacherous life.'

To my great relief, she didn't say anything after that. We didn't talk until we arrived at the yacht. I shouted for Tom but it was Shane who heard us first. The golden Labrador came charging towards us. The kid must've mistaken Shane's excitement for an attack because she grabbed my arm in terror and tried to bury herself into me.

'Relax,' I said to her. 'He doesn't bite.'

She didn't let go of me, hiding herself behind me as the dog came closer. I patted my chest and Shane leapt to the air and jumped onto my chest. I caught him in my arms, and he licked at my face excitedly. This was our ritual greeting. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the kid watching us with interest, her momentary fear melting. I placed Shane down.

'Shane,' I said. 'This is a friend of mine.'

The Labrador barked his greeting to her. She smiled then and crouched down . Shane wagged his tail and went into her arms. She patted and brushed him with her hands. 'Oh, he's a lovely dog.'

'He's not just a dog,' I complained. 'His name's Shane.'

Shane barked to acknowledge my complaint.

'Okay, sorry,' the kid said with an amused laugh, frisking the dog's furs. 'I'll call you Shane from now on, okay?'

The Labrador barked twice and let out an excited howl.

'That means,' I explained, 'he thinks you're beautiful and should be forgotten.'

Straightening up, she laughed. Shane came to me and began to brush himself against my legs.

I asked the girl. 'You like dogs?'

'Sure. I adore them. I used to have one when I was a kid.'

She was still a kid, if you asked me. Nevertheless, a plus to her for loving dogs. We went inside to find Tom, my boat-keeper. We found him in his cabin. He had been catching a nap after spending the day doing a thorough spring-cleaning of the yacht, that's why he hadn't heard us arrive.

I gave Tom an immediate holiday and told him to go visit friends or relatives and return after five days. By that time I would probably have gone forever and he would receive a handsome inheritance from my deceased estate.

'Okay, kid, your turn,' I said moments after Tom had departed. 'It's time for you to go home.'

'You are chasing me away?' she looked astonished.

'I didn't say that. I said it's time for you to go home. Your parents'll be worried.'

'I don't have any to go to.'

'What?'

'A home and parents,' she said, turning away her eyes from me. 'My parents are dead and I have no one to go to.'

'I thought I told you I was going to kill myself. It's not a joke, you know?'

'That's exactly why I wanna come with you,' she insisted. 'I wanna die too. Maybe this will be my only chance.'

'Look, kid, you don't know me. I'm just a guy you met on the road. I gave you a ride, and now it's time to part ways.'

'You may be wrong, you know. How do you know our meeting was not written by fate?'

I couldn't answer that one. I shrugged. If the kid had elected to go my way, it wasn't up to me to stop her.

I went to the controls of the boat and started steering it away from the shore. In a few minutes I was guiding the boat along the Hudson River. My uninvited guest came and lodged herself a few feet from me, leaning against the safety rail on deck, with Shane in tow. There seemed to be a budding friendship between them.

I disappeared inside for a while and returned with some dog biscuits for Shane. I handed them to his new acquaintance and she started playing with the Labrador, giving him a biscuit each time he achieved a feat.

'Why do you keep him on the boat?' she asked curiously, for the first time addressing me since leaving the dock.

'It's for his health,' I responded. 'Doctor's orders.'

'You are kidding, right?'

'No. The vet said the smog is not good for him on land.' It was true. I still had the monstrous bill the doctor had charged me for that check-up on Shane.

I cut the boat's engine, having decided this was as far as we could go. What remained was to either jump into the river or axe the yacht and let it sink. But there was no hurry. Some champagne for the final celebration wouldn't hurt.

Again, I disappeared inside the boat and came back with a bottle of Dom Perignon and a glass.

'I want it too,' the kid said as soon as she saw me appear.

Silently, I went back inside the boat and returned with a glass for her. Carefully, I broke the seal of the bottle and poured out the wine into the glasses. I took a healthy swipe at my glass and the pleasant liquid ran smoothly down my gut. 'Aren't you too young to drink?' frowning at her.

'No,' she said curtly and took a gulp of her drink. 'But this champagne is my first.'

'Dom Perignon.'

'Yeah, lovely.'

I stared at her silently, thinking how short she was. Really short. The top of her head ended at my chest when standing toe to toe. 'So, what's your name, kid?'

'Lisa. Lisa Cassidy.'

I waited for her to ask me mine.

She didn't. Instead, she told me. 'Yours is Dante.'

'How did you know?' It really wasn't. It was my nickname.

'It's printed on the dashboard of your car and in small letters on the other side of the boat.'

Another plus to her for being so observant.

She took a sip of her drink. 'Funny name. How did you come by it?'

'It's a long story.'

'Oh.' She looked away from my eyes. 'You and Tom seem like you got a cool relationship.'

'You make us sound like a couple,' I said with a smile.

She laughed. 'How do you want me to put it?' Getting no reply, she continued. 'Anyhow, you know what I mean.'

For a while, we drank the Dom Perignon in silence. I don't know what the kid was thinking, but I was inwardly trying to psyche myself for the final event of the day. It was towards sunset, and from a distance, Manhattan was a breathtaking sight.

'What do you do?' she asked, bringing me from my momentary reverie.

'I work for my father's business.'

'That's not what I thought when I first saw you,' she confessed. 'You should've become an actor.'

I smiled at her. 'Why?'

'You are big, strong and gorgeous. Hollywood would love you.'

I just laughed. It wasn't the first time I'd heard that.

'I'm being serious. You'd make a lot of money in the movies.' A naughty smile crossed her lips. 'And women would kill each other over you.'

'I'd never make it. I'm camera-shy.'

'Are you shy of me too, Dante?'

'The name's Duncan. What makes you say that?'

'You've hardly looked at my eyes since we met,' she stated matter-of-factly.

I turned and gazed into her eyes then. I think something passed between us. For a split second. I'd barely registered it when she blushed and shifted her gaze away. She raised her drink to her lips. I did the same.

'You wanna talk about it?' she asked suddenly.

'What?'

'Your shit.'

'No.'

'Then I guess I'll talk about my shit.'

I would've loved to tell her that I couldn't care less about her problems, but decided not to. I was beginning to like the kid.

'I ran away from home when I was seventeen,' she spoke in a low voice. 'I fell out with my parents, and being big-headed, I eloped. I've been a rolling stone since then. There was a time when I joined a religious sect, but I soon left because the members were dangerously fanatical. I ain't no fucking religious fanatic.'

So, the kid had brains.

'Then I did all sorts of shit with a bunch of crazies,' she continued. 'Somehow I got myself mixed up with a gang of drug dealers. They were using us...me and other girls...for sex and some other horrible things. Many times since I left home I thought of returning, but I was afraid, afraid of facing my parents after all these years. Many times I've thought of killing myself but never had the courage to do it.'

She turned then to face me.

I looked away.

'Aren't you gonna say something?' she asked.

'No. I'm gonna get inside the boat, strip naked and come back to lie down here and bask in the sun.'

And that's exactly what I did. I got into my cabin and slipped out of all my clothes. Then I wrapped a large towel around my waist before I went back on deck. I hadn't expected the sight that I met there.

She was still standing by the rail, her back to me, looking out towards the Manhattan skyline. She was naked, except for a hot little G-string that was buried deep into the crevice of her round ass.

The kid had a gorgeous ass. Roundly shaped in that petite frame of hers. I felt the heat rise at my loins. I stood there, rooted to the spot and gazing fixatedly at that delectable round ass.

She must have sensed my penetrating gaze, because she suddenly spoke. 'So, what do you think?' she asked with her back to me.

'It's the most beautiful DDGA I've ever seen.'

She turned around...And the world stopped moving.

She had these big, attractive tits. The coral pink of her nipples glistened and stood pointing at me. I felt myself irresistibly drawn to her.

A frown creased her face. 'DDGA?'

'The most beautiful Drop-Dead-Gorgeous-Ass I've ever seen,' I explained.

She just smiled silently.

I stepped forward and closed the gap between us. I raised my left hand to the back of her head and pulled off the elastic cloth holding her hair together in a pony-tail. Her jet-black strands fell to her shoulders. I stepped back and admired the sight before my eyes. Beautiful girl. Her green eyes glimmered invitingly at me. With her hair hanging down her shoulders, she was a smoldering siren. She looked the incarnation of every desirable quality. A young Juno. With succulent breasts and a highly, intoxicatingly desirable body.

I found my voice. 'How old are you, kid?'

'Twenty-two.'

She was too short for her age. The flesh that was meant for her height had probably gone to her tits and ass.

'I'll show you my ID if you think I'm fucking with you.'

She didn't have to. The proof was right there in front of me. No 15-year-old can possess such a smashing body.

She bent down and slipped the G-string off her body. She stood naked and stared at me, an undecided look on her face. I lowered my eyes down her body. The heavy black triangle between her legs glistened at me. My cock strengthened solidly and pushed the towel into a tent in front of me. I reached forward with both my hands and grabbed her tits. I dug my fingers into their flesh and pulled her towards me.

Shane whimpered a complaint and scurried away, his tail between his legs. The dog knew a god moment to leave when he saw one.

She tugged the towel off my waist and my hard slapped against my belly. I placed my hands at her underarms and lifted her. She encircled her legs around my waist and locked them at my back as I began to suck on her breasts. Slowly, I lowered her down onto my shaft. She brought her legs up and dug her knees into my armpits as I opened my way into her. She pushed her pelvis back a bit and arched her back as I climbed higher inside her canal. I pushed myself all the way up to the hilt of my shaft. She let out a loud gasp and her body suddenly went limp. She collapsed onto me but momentarily recovered her strength.

Her eyes closed, she began to rock herself back and forth. I placed my hands on her lips and stood firm, letting her ride me. She started to moan noisily as she ground herself vigorously against me. Harder and harder. Her breathing came in gasps as the pulse of her ecstasy quickened, her head bobbing back and forth with the wild frenzy of her passion. Her hair flung in all directions, whisking at my chest and head.

She panted furiously and beads of sweat ran down her neck and chest. Her orgasm was fast approaching. She flapped her eyes suddenly and their pupils rolled back. Only their white was visible. 'Christ! Oh God!' she cried, suddenly falling against my chest.

She became limp against me, her legs involuntarily releasing their lock on my waist. They fell to my sides. I grabbed her ass and held her balanced on my cock. She flooded, wetting my pubic hairs and streaming down my balls.

The crazy moment of her incapacitation passed, and she slowly lifted her head from my shoulder and opened her eyes to look at me. 'You're still strong!' she gasped, her eyes open wide with astonishment. 'You're incredible!'

I laughed out aloud.

She slid from me and I watched her walk away and disappear inside the yacht. She returned seconds later with my belt in her hands. She handed it to me. I accepted it – no questions asked.

She crouched down and spread out my towel on the deck. Then she went down on all fours on the towel and commanded in a sultry, husky voice. 'Hit me.'

I sank to my knees before her proffered butt and held the belt a few inches from its tip. I began to tap it against her sweet round ass.

'Harder! Harder!' she purred.

I lashed at her. She groaned in pain. She dropped her head and shoulders flat onto the towel and pushed her ass back and up in the air. The lips of her cunt parted voluntarily. Her pink clitoris stood rigid, pointing back and up at me. She shoved a hand beneath herself and touched her pussy, stroking herself and rubbing her fingers against her clitoris.

I belted her harder. She moaned. 'Kill me! Kill me!'

I let go of the belt and grabbed her waist. I positioned my dick and rammed it into her oily well. She swallowed me whole, up to the hilt of my cock. I began to thrust back and forth inside her.

'Jesus! Oh God!' she cried, arching her back further and spreading her legs wider.

I felt her hand on my balls. She grabbed them and squeezed. I groaned in pain. I felt her body shudder as her orgasm seized her. She came with a loud cry. She came so hard the hot liquid sprayed out of her.

I smashed myself faster and faster into her. I opened my palms and hit them against her hips. She let out inaudible sounds of excitement. She was seized by orgasm after orgasm that rocked her body until she couldn't control them. My own climax seized me and I jammed myself one last time into her.

Her whisper was muffled. 'You're killing me.'

I discovered that she was climaxing together with me. For a moment I stayed there, the hot torrent of my semen cascading inside her. Then we both crashed down helplessly on the towel. I slid out of her cunt and rolled onto my back. The setting sun hit my eyes viciously and I closed my eyes...and fell asleep.

Not for long. I felt Shane licking my face and opened my eyes. I pushed him away with my hand. He moved his attention to Lisa.

'Move away, you brute,' I warned him. 'She's mine.'

Shane barked.

Lisa laughed. 'Don't worry,' she said to the dog, frisking his hairy neck. 'We'll find a princess for you, honey.'

'He's castrated.'

She slapped me hard on the shoulder. 'What the fuck'd you do such a cruel thing like that for?'

'Because I don't want any competition when I bring beautiful women onto the boat.'

She laughed and rested her head on my shoulder. 'How many women have you brought here?'

Women! You fuck them and they become all touchy-feely. 'None yet. I'm still to.'

She lifted her head off me and stared at me with a hurt expression. 'How about me? Am I not a lady?'

'You are, kid. A great one at that. But I didn't bring you here. You invited yourself here. There's a difference.'

The hurt look was gone quickly. In its place was a smile of amusement. 'No, there isn't,' she challenged. 'You just don't wanna admit that I have the honor of being the first woman on your boat.' She tickled my ribs playfully. 'Come on, admit it.'

'Okay, okay,' I said quickly, laughing helplessly. 'You are. I admit.'

She laid her head back down on my chest and closed her eyes. 'I'm really feeling special.' Then her voice turned serious and she called me quietly. 'Duncan?'

'Yes, kid?'

'I haven't felt like this in a long time.'

I pushed her off me and rose to my feet. She was getting sentimental and that wasn't good for me. On a sudden impulse, I scooped her up in my arms and carried her inside the boat. I took a quick shower before letting her take hers. While she was there, I fixed something for us to eat. Thankfully, Tom was well-stocked with food. After that bout of sex with Lisa, I felt drained and famished.

She walked in from the shower in the nude. 'Your clothes are in the cabin,' I told her. I had collected them from the deck.

She disappeared into my cabin, but when she returned, she was not in her clothes. Instead, she was in one of my shirts. It went all the way down to her knees.

I smiled at her. 'Next, you'll be hi-jacking my boat.'

She flashed me a grin. Her million-dollar gorgeous grin. 'What're we eating?' she asked, already helping herself to the food on one plate.'

Soon, I would discover that I wasn't the only one who was hungry. She had a monstrous appetite. A miracle that she wasn't fat. Never have I seen a woman who eats like that yet have a gracefully trim body.

We didn't talk much during our meal. The food took center stage, and afterwards she helped me clear the dishes. She offered to wash them. I didn't let her. The food had renewed some energy in me.

I grabbed her and kissed her hard on the mouth. Next thing we found ourselves on a bunk making fierce love.

It was wonderful. Really wonderful. We didn't want to let go of each other after the crazy passion of our mutual orgasm had passed. I had become a part of her. She was a part of me. I think we both felt the deep emotional impact. It took a long time for us to eventually speak.

'Hey, what's happening, kid?'

She answered in a murmur. 'The oceans are opening up for us to walk through.'

'Where to?'

'The alter.'

We fell silent for a while. Through the cabin window I could tell that the moon had come up.

'Duncan?' Her voice came softly in the darkness of the bunker.

'Yeah?' I stroked her hair affectionately with my hand.

'I wanna walk beside you to the alter.'

'How did you know I was gonna ask?'

'You didn't have to,' she replied. 'I can feel it. It's almost like I can read your mind. I told you that fate brought us together.'

I kissed her forehead. I snuggled closer to her and laid my head on her breasts. She brought her hands up to my head and stroked my hair gently.

'I love you,' she said in a whisper.

I didn't speak.

'Are you awake?'

'Yeah.'

'I want you to take me back home tomorrow.'

Chapter 9

I was in a very dark alley.

My eyes couldn't focus properly. Smoke surrounded me even though I couldn't discern where it was coming from. I continued moving, walking slowly as I couldn't see clearly where I was placing my feet.

The smoke intensified and the atmosphere around me became dense with darkness. I turned slowly around to figure out where I might be. My memory was blank. I couldn't identify this place. I had never been here before. I didn't even know who I was. I couldn't recall my name.

I shut my eyes firmly and forced my memory to come back to me. Zip. Blank. Nothing came to mind. Yet my head felt okay. No headache or pain to remind me that maybe I had suffered a concussion or something similar. I opened my eyes to the now familiar smoky darkness.

Then suddenly it all disappeared and I was enveloped by a clear brightness. The light was so sharp that I couldn't open my eyes to it. It blinded all my efforts to see around me. Then all of a sudden I sensed rather than saw that it had gone; as quickly and suddenly as it had come.

This time I opened my eyes and glanced around me. I was in space. I was floating in air, standing on emptiness but managing to keep my balance as if I was on terra firma. There was nothing but empty space surrounding me. I tried to remember. Something. Anything to jog my memory and tell me how I had come to be here at this place. My head was as empty as the space around me; nothing came to mind.

Unexpectedly, a loud swooshing noise came from behind me and I spun around quickly in time to see a large boulder fast hurtling towards me. It was coming straight for my head. My heart racing, I dodged. The boulder missed my head by an inch. No sooner had it appeared than another one came racing like a bullet from the same direction. This one was aimed at my chest. I flung myself flat and floated in the air. I didn't lie in that position for long. A shower of pebbles rained upon me from what seemed to be all directions conceivable. They came non-stop and in quick succession.

I was gripped by cold terror. I ran. Sprinted for dear life. In that moment of panic I felt a cold hand touch me. Then the momentous torrent of stones stopped and the place fell silent and calm like it had been. A long distance off, a small speckle of light glimmered and it grew larger as it advanced towards me. Just as it was edging closer to me, everything was thrown into thick blackness. The blackness stayed for a while before a beam of light shone from above me. It was coming from a halo of light. I stood rooted to my spot in the air, and my eyes stared transfixed at this glowing spectacle.

On closer inspection, I discovered that it was the figure of a man. He descended from above me and came to float level with me. The halo of light around his frame disappeared, and with it, so did the darkness go. I found myself back in the alley where it had all started. An alley with no beginning or end, although now it wasn't dark and I could clearly see the man's features.

He was clad all in white. Shoes, scarf, shirt, coat, pants – all white. Everything about him seemed white. Even his skin seemed to possess an unnatural white complexion. A benevolent smile decorated his unsmiling face like an oddly misplaced feature. There was an overall sense of the dramatic about his appearance.

'Your life is in danger,' he said with no preliminary greeting.

As if I didn't realize that. It was one of the greatest understatements I had met in life. I had gone through a terrifying experience of a stone shower, and the stupid fool was stating it like some inconsequential trivia.

'Who are you?' My voice sounded like it was coming from another body.

'Your savior.'

Despite my earlier shock, I almost burst out laughing.

'You might laugh,' he surprised me by reading my mind. 'But I have come to save your life. It's up to you to accept my help or deny it.'

'What help is that?' I only just managed to keep the scorn out of my voice.

'The help you desperately need in your present circumstances.'

'Excuse me, but where am I?'

'That's not important.' He waved my question aside. 'What is crucial is that you listen very carefully to what I have to say to save yourself a lot of grief that might arise if you don't follow my instructions.'

'I don't think I'm following you.'

'I'm here to warn you. You have to be careful. Evil spirits are circulating around you and the ones you love.'

'Evil spirits?' Before he could answer I went on. 'Wait a minute. What's this...superstition?'

He gave a slight nod of his head. 'Call it what you may, but it's still a part of your life.'

'Give me a break,' I scoffed. 'I don't believe in that kinda stuff.'

His smiling face changed swiftly and unexpectedly and was quickly replaced by a fierce countenance. Angry veins stood out taut across his forehead. He breathed heavily as if he would collapse in a fit of rage. 'You don't dare take what I say lightly,' he said forcefully. 'Do you hear me?'

'Yeah, but—.'

'But nothing!' he interrupted lividly. 'I'm here to save your life and many others. There's something bad that's been going on and it has to be stopped. Someone has to put an end to the carnage and slaughter of innocent people. I've been searching for a long time for someone compatible, and you have been found to be the chosen one.' He allowed himself to calm down a little. 'And you refuse to bow down to the demands of your destiny?'

'Like I said,' I started slowly. 'Destiny. Forces of evil. The belief in good versus bad. All that stuff doesn't make sense to me. I just don't believe—.'

'You don't believe,' he repeated before I could finish. 'Even after the test I put you through earlier on?'

'It was you?' I was seriously surprised. 'You are the one who put me through that frightening experience?' I felt my temper rising. 'Look, man, I'm getting tired of all this nonsense. You say you engineered that whole show back there when you scared me, and you stand here and simply call it a "test". You could've killed me.' It was my turn to be angry. 'I could've died!' I yelled at him. 'Do you realize that? I could've died. Do you realize that at all?'

'Nothing would have happened to you,' he said calmly. 'I did it on purpose to test your courage.'

'Courage!' I laughed incredulously. 'You say it's nothing to put my life in danger and almost killing me?'

'Don't get hysterical. I had to verify if you were the one I was looking for, and now that I've tested your reflexes, I know that you're ready.'

I held up both my hands to stop him. 'You know what? I've had enough of this bullshit. I'm going away.'

'Where do you think you'll go?'

I turned around and started to walk away from him. 'I don't know. I'll find my way out of this creepy place and go back where I belong.'

'You can't go anywhere without my consent,' he said behind me. 'This is my world, and anything I say around here goes...'

I continued walking stubbornly.

He flew past me. Zoomed over my head in lightning speed. And planted himself in front of me. 'I'm giving you one last chance to choose between the path of life and the path of death. Which one will it be?'

I sighed in exasperation. 'Just show me the path back home, and I'll leave you in peace.'

'Granted.' He stretched his arms outward, bringing the sides of his coat up too. It gave him a divine appearance.

He gave me the smile he had worn earlier when I first saw him, and in the next instant he had vanished from my sight.

I remained there, though my surroundings had drastically changed. I was now lost deep inside a tropical rainforest. I was surrounded by tall, large tropical trees. Slight rain was falling not from the sky but from the tree leaves. The ground all around me was over-locked with creepers and tangled bushes. I tried to make my way through them but it was a difficult task. I would need something like a machete to cut my way through the dense bush. A snake slithered in the underground and disappeared from sight.

I shuddered. Heard my heart pounding inside my chest.

At first, it came as a distant sound. Then gradually it grew louder. Chanting voices coming in my direction. It sounded like a war cry of some sort. Shortly, its source came into view from one side of the dense forest. It was a small band of tribal warriors, their faces painted in a range of colors. They were chanting, ululating and ranting incoherent cries of a hunt.

It didn't take me long for me to realize I was the prey.

I ran. And tripped before I could take a couple of paces. The cries of excitement increased in volume, and I willed myself to my feet. I tried to worm my way through the thick forest – with no success.

I stole a quick look behind me and was greeted by an astonishing revelation. My hunters were holding their bows at the ready and their arrows were pointing at me, ready to shoot. A sudden flash of vision told me the arrows were poisoned at the tips. My whole body shook with fright.

I gathered up all my strength and picked myself up. I ran faster than I ever had right to. I didn't get far. I felt the sharp sting of the tip of an arrow bite into my back. My head snapped backwards on the impact and my spine arched backwards involuntarily. Another wasp-like sting hit my neck and brought an instant haze to my head. It was in a dazed stupor that I felt myself tumbling down and hitting the ground in one dead heap.

Next thing I found myself drifting alternately between states of consciousness and unconsciousness. One moment I was bound onto a wooded pole with my hands and feet tied to it and carried by two of the hunters. Then I'd pass out and the next time I regained consciousness I was being stuffed into an enormous earthenware pot with a hungry fire beneath it.

I screamed in mortal terror.

The cannibals saw the mortal fear in my eyes and rejoiced with blood-curdling laughter. They laughed to my face and enjoyed the sight of me shriveling, terrified of being boiled alive. Through the melee of exhilarated voices I vaguely heard some of them shouting a name I didn't recognize.

'Duncan! Duncan!' They shouted. 'Duncan!'

And through it all came an even louder voice. 'Remember,' it said. 'Your life is in danger.'

I passed out, and welcomed the blackness gratefully.

* * * * *

Her voice came as a distant sound at first, and then it grew louder as I fought my way through the cloudy darkness. 'Duncan! Duncan!'

I opened my eyes to find her shaking me vigorously. It took me a moment to realize where I was. An even longer moment to remember who she was.

She had a worried look on her face. She looked relieved when I tried to smile at her. My face and neck were covered in beads of sweat.

I lay there facing upwards and didn't move. She disappeared from my line of vision and didn't reappear until moments later. She began to wipe my face gently with a damp towel and smiled at me. 'Don't worry, you're in safe hands.'

I forced myself up on an elbow. 'I just had the most terrifying nightmare.'

'Yes,' she said. 'You were talking in your sleep. What was it?'

'Maybe I'll tell you some other time.' I really didn't relish the thought of going back to it. 'Right now it's too fresh in my memory to get back to it without my blood curdling.'

She smoothed back my hair and kissed me on the forehead. 'Don't be afraid. You got me to protect you now and forever.'

I returned her sweet smile.

A sly expression crossed her face. 'Maybe it was caused by what I did to you last night.' She slid a hand under the sheets and cupped my balls. 'I gave you the best lay you've ever had. And I got a mind to give you another fun-filled ride right now.'

Morning action wasn't far from my mind either.

Her nails were scratching the hairy skin of my balls, and they tightened in response. Her hand shifted and she stroked my cock. It grew turgid in her hand. She was giving me pure, exquisite pleasure with her hand...

But suddenly she stopped the fun.

'Why did you stop that?' I protested mildly. 'I was beginning to enjoy that.'

'I know; I got the magic touch.' She leapt to her feet suddenly. 'But there's enough time for that later,' she said, pulling me off the bed. 'Right now we gotta take the boat to land. It's gonna be a long ride to my folks' place.'

I went to clean myself up for the morning and came back to change in the cabin under her hurrying commands. She was really enthusiastic about returning home. But beneath it all I could sense that she was tense. It had been a long time since she had last been home. I'd give her all the necessary support she needed.

We got to shore in half the time we had made moving away from it the previous day. I used my cellphone to call Tom and explain to him that he could come and finish off his holiday on the yacht. We waited half an hour before he arrived. In the meantime, Lisa took the opportunity to assert herself.

'We are leaving with Shane,' she stated.

The dog barked at the mention of his name.

'No, we're not,' I responded firmly.

'Says who?' she challenged forcefully.

'Doctor's orders,' I replied. 'He advised that a marine environment is better for Shane's health.' I truly wasn't making it up.

'Okay, fine,' she said resignedly. 'But a few days away from here won't kill him, will they?'

'No, but—.'

'She cut in quickly. 'No buts.' She pouted in mock anger. 'We're taking Shane and no arguments from you. You can't let him live on a boat. It's inhuman.' She crouched down and hugged Shane, stroking his head affectionately. 'I mean. Look at these sad eyes. He wants so much to go with us.'

I stayed quiet for a moment, and then I burst out laughing.

She straightened up slowly and stared at me with a frown of curiosity. 'What?'

'Look at us,' I responded. 'We've only been together a day and we're already arguing.'

She saw the funny side of it too and laughed.

'Okay, okay,' she said as our laughter quieted. 'Let's ask Shane himself if he'd like to go.'

Before I could protest, she had turned to the dog. 'You wanna come with us, boy?'

And instantly the dog was disloyal to me – he took her side. He barked twice and wagged his tail excitedly. He went to her legs and started rubbing himself against them.

'That's not fair,' I complained. 'You bribed him with that hug, that's why he's taking your side.'

'No,' she dismissed. 'He's choosing freedom over injustice.' She took a few paces and stood right there before me. 'So, Mr. Duncan Shelley, that's settled then,' she said with a tone of finality. 'We're taking Shane, and that's that.'

'Yes ma'am.'

She pulled my head down to her and gave me a passionate kiss on the mouth. Her lips grounded against mine and her tongue filled my mouth and she sucked the breath out of me. When she let go I was breathless.

With that seal of victory she walked off towards the car. She held her head high and her chin up to signal her little triumph.

I stared at her and smiled in amusement. We were not married yet, but true to form, she was already acting like a wife.

* * * * *

We had to first go to my place in Scarsdale to switch cars, so that we could have enough room for Shane. I parked the SL in the garage and took the BMW X5 for the long trip out to Chappaqua. This time, Shane hopped onto the back-seat whimpering happily with all that space to himself. In the SL he had been on Lisa's lap. I ruffled his fur and shut the door. Then I opened the door for Lisa and helped her onto the seat.

'I can do this by myself, thank you,' she said in mock reproach.

'I thought you couldn't,' I teased as I came round to my side.

She slapped my thigh playfully when I settled myself comfortably behind the wheel. 'You're mean!'

'No, I just enjoy touching you.'

She leaned sideways and planted a kiss on my freshly-shaven cheek. 'And I enjoy the feel of your hands on my body.'

I returned her cheerful smile as we pulled out of the garage. She was a lovely kid. Along with her compact size and smashing body. And she was all mine. I really felt happy to have her there by my side. I lost myself in my thoughts as I drove the X5 towards her home, actually not far from where I lived. I brought the car to a halt at the parking lot of the Westchester Mall located along Westchester Avenue.

She stared at me with questioning eyes. 'We've gotta grab some new outfit for you,' I explained. 'You don't expect to see your folks in those, do you?' She was still wearing her tight pedal-pushers and baggy T-shirt. 'I mean,' I continued. 'You want to appear decent and innocent.'

She gave the suggestion a moment of cogitation. 'You're right, but for the record, my parents aren't exactly old-fashioned.'

'Still,' I insisted, 'I want them to see my fiancée in an all-American decent dress.'

A funny expression came to her face. I could detect the beginnings of a smile at the corners of her mouth. 'I don't think that's a brilliant idea.'

'Why?' I asked innocently.

She opened her door. 'You'll see,' she said, jumping out of the car.

Moments later I discovered what she had meant. She tried one of the dresses we had picked with the help of a sales assistant and modeled it in front of me. I tried hard not to laugh. She looked real funny in that dress. With her small frame in that dress, she looked like a big-sized doll.

Standing with her arms akimbo and tapping her right foot down impatiently, she asked, 'You see now?'

'Okay, I relent,' I said unable to fight my laughter any longer. 'Okay, we cross out dresses. Let's try something else.'

She was visibly relieved, and went quickly into the changing booth to get out of the dress.

Eventually, we bought a pair of matching white T-shirts and two pairs of jeans at the Armani shop. One for me, loose-fitting, and one for her, tight-fitting. Both blue in color and purposely faded, such that they looked worse for wear. We wore them with our T-shirts tucked in, and then we took bold strides out of the mall with Ray-Bans on our eyes.

I let her walk in front of me as we walked to a fast-food joint to get some snacks for the trip. It was a real kick watching that sweet and delectable round ass held firm in those tight jeans. № 1 prime rump, and a real seductive weapon.

* * * * *

She sipped her Pepsi silently.

I drove in silence also. After a long while, I said to her. 'Tell me about your family.'

'We aren't many. There's my mom and dad. Then there's my younger brother, Roderick. 'We call him...' Her voice broke off for a moment. 'We called him Rick.'

She fell silent and I let her be. She took a gulp of her drink before placing the Pepsi can in the cup holder. Then she spoke again. 'Rick and I got along very well. I've missed him a lot. Damn! I've missed all of them.' Her voice began to quaver. 'Sometimes I take a long walk and try to imagine what things would've been like if I'd not gone away. Things get so hard and murky that you wish you can get back to your younger years, when you were innocent and your head wasn't spoilt by the cruel world.'

Unconsciously, she wiped away at a tear staining her cheek. I focused my eyes back on the road. Shit! The kid was getting sentimental and it was affecting me.

'Rick is six years younger than me. He's a real smart kid. Used to ace exams at school when he was little. He's into computers and all that stuff.' She glanced at me before quickly looking away. 'You'll like him,' she said assuredly.

I stole a quick glance at her. 'If you like him, I'm sure I'll like him too.'

She turned a tearful face at me and just smiled without saying anything.

I stepped on the accelerator and sped the car towards out destination.

* * * * *

'If you don't stop looking at me like that I'm gonna have to do something to wipe away that bulge inside your trousers.'

'Ooh! That sounds tempting,' I played along.' I continued ogling her ample behind as she walked away.

The BMW was parked on the street in front of the house. It was a short walk to the front door. I leaned against the car and fished out a couple of marshmallows from the packet in my hands. Absent-mindedly, I let them melt inside my mouth.

We had arrived here just moments ago. When I'd cut the engine dead, she had sat there in her seat and stared at the house with a pensive look on her face. I had squeezed her shoulder and given her a cheering smile. 'You ready for this?'

She had not responded. Sat there, very still, her eyes unmoving.

'I wanted this so much last night,' she said eventually. 'I wanted so much to come here and meet my parents and erase the years of silence. Now I'm no longer so sure...I don't know if I can go ahead with this...'

'Want me to come with you?'

She shook her head. 'I'm shaking and sweating right now, but I'll manage.'

I looked away from her and gazed through the windscreen at nothing in particular.

'Duncan,' her voice came in a low whisper beside me. 'Please hold me.'

I had leaned towards her and embraced her strong and hard. Finally, she let go of me and let out a deep sigh. She opened the door and got out of the car. I'd got out too and come around the car to watch her going off to the house.

Presently, a whining sound cut through my thoughts.

I remembered Shane. I opened the car door and let him out. He dashed out and trotted to a nearby bush, where he nonchalantly raised one of his legs up and watered the bush. All along the way he had been a good boy. During the hour-long drive we had stopped once for him to relieve himself.

He returned now and came over to sit upright before me. He stared at me with a begging look. I threw a sweet at him and he caught it before it fell down. I smiled inwardly. Shane had to be about the only dog in America that ate marshmallows.

My gaze travelled to the house and I saw the front door swing open. A woman appeared and stared at Lisa. Then her eyes lit up with recognition and she collapsed against her daughter in a hug. They held each other for a long time. Then in slow motion they got into the house and disappeared inside.

* * * * *

She emerged out of the house a long while later and stood at the front porch as she waved at me. I waved back and she beckoned me to come over. I took the precaution of locking Shane in the car and opening the windows a little to give him air before going to join Lisa at the front porch. Her face was wet with fresh tears. She smiled through the tears and weaved her hand around my arms as we made our way inside the house.

Her parents were cool. Introductions were made. They took the news of our marriage intentions with a positive attitude. They were really glad to have their daughter back. There were no harsh words. No bad exchanges. Nothing bad said that would remind anyone of a bad past. Just a small family, happy to meet each other.

We wanted to leave early but they wouldn't hear of it. They forced us to stay for dinner. Lisa got up to help her mother in the kitchen, but before she left she turned to me.

'Duncan, why don't you go show Rick the present we got him?' she suggested.

'Okay.' I got to my feet. 'Rick, wanna walk with me to the car?'

'Sure,' said Roderick with an expectant smile on his face.

'We'll be back in a moment,' I said to Mr. Cassidy, who was sunk in a worn sofa that I assumed was his favorite.

He waved a dismissing hand. 'You guys take your time. Don't worry about me. I've been sitting in front of the TV so much it's become an intimate friend.'

I chuckled at his joke as we went out the door. I chatted to Roderick about this and that as we walked towards the car.

Shane barked when he saw us approaching towards the car, scratching the window with his front paws and whining for release. Rick's reaction to the dog was similar to the one his sister had exhibited. He became excited about the dog and immediately insisted we take Shane inside. While he played with the dog, I fetched the small package containing his present from the car. I came round the X5 and handed the package to him.

He hurriedly tore away at the wrapping paper, and his eyes bulged with disbelief as he saw the laptop inside the box.

'For me!' It was a half-question half-statement, and the dog was instantly forgotten.

'Yeah,' I grinned. 'Lisa told me you'd be going to college next year, so we thought of getting you the laptop.'

'Thank you very much, sir...I mean Mr. Shelley, sir.'

I placed a hand around his shoulders. 'You need to thank your sister too. She's the one who suggested it.' I squeezed his lanky frame. 'Now, let's go over to the porch and check it out.'

He still couldn't believe it. Even when he had flipped it open and ran his fingers along the keys he still stared in wonder at his new treasure. I explained a few technicalities with him but he already knew enough about computers. Like Lisa had said, he was a smart kid. We explored the laptop's capabilities for some time together.

I picked up a stray twig from the cracked floor of the porch and toyed with it in my hands. I let my gaze drift, scanning the neighborhood of big houses interspersed with tall trees. It was such a beautiful scenery at dusk.

'Rick,' I started in a low voice. 'Can you do me a favor?'

'Anything,' he answered automatically. I sensed he had not raised his eyes from the laptop.

'I was wondering if you could be my best man.'

This time he did not look at me. Slowly he brought down the top of the computer and closed it shut with a soft click. 'It was Lisa's idea, isn't it?'

'Yes,' I replied. 'I guess she wanted to make it up to you for all the things she never did for you that a big sister should've. All the lost years, you know? You understand, don't you?'

'I do,' he said. 'And Mr. Shelley?'

'Huh?'

'Thank you for bringing my sister back home. I always missed her.' An embarrassed look came to his face. 'I kept her favorite doll by the window and would talk to it every time I thought of her.'

We were silent for a long while.

'So, did you two fight as kids?' I asked.

'Not much. Lisa ran...' His voice trailed off. 'She left home when she was about my age. I was too young for any sibling rivalry to develop between us.'

I listened quietly.

'And what naughty things are you teaching my kid brother, you nasty man?' The sweet familiar voice came from behind us. We turned to see Lisa standing in the doorway, bathed in light and grinning gorgeously. 'Dinner's ready,' she announced. And,' she raised a cautionary index finger, 'wipe your feet before you come into the house.'

'Yes ma'am,' I said with a laugh. I enjoyed watching her being stern.

She'd make a beautiful wife.

Chapter 10

Her marks on my scale shot further up when I saw the delicious meal she and Mrs. Cassidy had cooked. Real good stuff. The kind of stuff you can't get from any 5-star hotel. Only true country housewives like Mrs. Cassidy knew the recipes for such perfect meals. I prayed she'd pass the tradition of good and healthy eating to her daughter.

Halfway through the meal, Mr. Cassidy turned to me and changed the subject of the steady conversation. 'Duncan, I want you to know how grateful we are to you for bringing our daughter home.' He cast a quick genuine smile at his daughter across the table.

Mrs. Cassidy touched my hand lightly. 'Yes,' she added to her husband's speech. 'We are indebted to you, Mr. Shelley.'

'It was nothing,' I said in response. I couldn't stand taking all the credit. It felt like I was cheating Lisa. I glanced at her, sitting there demurely opposite me. She blushed like a timid girl. It was the first time I saw her blush. 'It was her decision, really.'

She cleared her throat uneasily. 'Mum, Dad...Rick,' she ran her eyes from the one to the other as she mentioned their names. 'I know I've already said this, but I'm really sorry about what happened.'

Her mother stretched a hand to her shoulder and said comfortingly, 'Hush, dear, there's no need to open up old wounds. What matters is that you're here, and we thank the Lord for keeping you safe.'

'No. I have to say this, Mum. I want you all to know that it was foolish of me to run away from home. I'm also double sorry for not having returned sooner. I regret it terribly, and I wish you all to find it in your kind hearts to forgive me for the pain I've caused.'

'It's forgiven and forgotten, honey,' said Mr. Cassidy. Everyone nodded their heads in agreement. 'You were young and a child. And anyone makes mistakes.'

Silence came like a shadow into the room. Everyone munched on their food silently, lost in individual thoughts.

Mrs. Cassidy broke the pregnant silence. 'So, Lisa darling, will you stay with us for a few days?'

She cast a quick look at me before answering. 'With the wedding ceremony coming up, I gotta be with Duncan making the arrangements. I'll be staying at his place.'

I stared at her in open surprise. I had not been aware of that.

'I'll be in touch,' she promised her family.

'You kids know that we're proud of you,' said Mr. Cassidy. 'And you get our full blessings.'

An hour later, Mr. Cassidy, Mrs. Cassidy and Rick walked us to the car. A family prayer of thanks was called by Mr. Cassidy before we could drive away. The four of them joined hands and formed a circular ring. I lingered in the background, watching the four members of the family hold hands in harmony. I felt like an intruder and didn't want to interfere with their silent prayer.

'Don't stand back,' said Mr. Cassidy. 'Come join us, son.' That assured me I was now an accepted member of the family.

'Yes, come on, son,' added Mrs. Cassidy. 'You're part of the family now.'

* * * * *

The SUV veered off the road and I struggled with the steering wheel to get it back on track. It settled back on the road easily. I sighed gratefully. A fraction of a second late and we would've been crushed to mince-meat.

'Just because we've reached the happiest moment of our lives doesn't mean that you have to kill us,' Lisa reproached.

'I can't help it,' I confessed. 'You're distracting my attention.'

'Don't tell me you still wanna sleep with me in the middle of the road.'

'That in itself isn't such a bad idea. But I wasn't thinking of that. I was referring to your feeding my dog with all that junk food. He's had enough for the day. You'll give him blood poisoning.'

Frankly, he had had too much. As the Cassidys didn't have a dog, Shane had been fed an improvised lunch: a large chunk of meat, a treat he wasn't always encouraged to indulge in. His meat was usually half-cooked in boiling water, to disinfect it. Together with the raw meat, he had also been given large amounts of leftovers. A big no. In his ordinary life he was never allowed to indulge in the pleasures of that delight. His food came by special order and was carefully selected on the recommendation of a veterinary nutritionist. All that topped by occasional visits to the animal doctor. And then there were the baths, paw clippings and fur trimmings at Le Chien dog parlor in New York City.

'Whoever heard of biscuits causing blood poisoning?' Lisa asked incredulously. 'In case you didn't notice, these are human biscuits.'

'Exactly. Any food that's right for people is not suitable for dog consumption.'

'That's absurd!' she protested amiably.

I ignored her remark. 'Check that pack. Those biscuits are very high in cholesterol. You found him in good shape. Ten more days and he's gonna be a grumpy old dog.'

She laughed.

* * * * *

By the time we reached Scarsdale territory, it was dark and the lights were illuminating the skyline. A beautiful picture. Lovely, cloudless sky and a cool night breeze to perfect it. We pulled into the back of a quiet night club and went in for some drinks. Just hanging out and enjoying being together. We had a couple of rounds but by the time we got out of the club the booze had gone to our heads and we were hugging and kissing like first timers, unable to keep our hands off each other.

We got to the SUV and I fumbled unsuccessfully to retrieve the keys from my pocket. I gave up the effort and pushed Lisa against the car instead. I kissed her, and she fought back with her lips and tongue, giggling excitedly as I ran my fingers along the sides of her stomach. She moved her mouth to my ear and nibbled it with her teeth, then lower to my neck, teasing me with her teeth.

Then everything went black.

But not before an excruciating pain exploded at the back of my head. Even before I slumped down in a useless heap on the ground, I knew something heavy and made of metal had hit me. I tried to blink my eyes open but that mere effort was painful. Groan...groan...painful grunt...

I was trying to get up. I couldn't see clearly in the darkness. Someone was talking. No, crying and screaming. At first I thought it was my own voice, but soon realized that my mouth had a heavy lump that couldn't let out any sound.

Someone else was screaming. It came painfully slowly to me. I had been with someone. Slowly her name formed in my brain and I remembered Lisa. Lisa was screaming. My baby was letting out tortured cries of pain and calling my name.

With renewed vigor I opened up my eyes and struggled dazedly to my feet. I held onto the car for balance. Focusing my eyes in the direction of the noise, I was met by an enraging sight. A man, strongly built and looking menacing, held Lisa tight with her back to him and his arms around her torso. A second man was standing in front of her. He was in a long, black coat that went down to the ankles. It was all I could see of him. The guy holding Lisa lifted her and attempted to raise her above his shoulders. That was the moment she bit his fingers.

Grunting with unexpected pain, he let go of her and she sprang out of his arms and ran.

'Run, Lisa!' I yelled with all the strength I could muster in my weak state. 'Run! Run Lisa!'

She ran but didn't get far. Her captor caught her. Quickly, the black-coated man went over to them as his friend held Lisa firmly in position. The coated guy's hands both went up and a thin light shone in the darkness. With a numbing realization I noticed that it was a sword. In one swift movement he brought the sword down. It cut clean through her neck and sliced it in half.

A scream started at the back of my throat but it died on my lips. It was in a stupor that I faintly heard Shane's barking. The noisy yelps pierced my ears and jarred my mind to action. Summoning all the rest of my energies, I strengthened myself and fought against the pain. I had to get out of there. If these killers caught me too I would be dead. I fished out my keys and thought I dived into the car even though in reality I was actually moving slowly. The engine's starting grabbed the attention of the killers.

They realized too late that I was escaping.

'Quick, he's getting away,' I heard a voice shout.

I put my foot down flat on the gas and went cruising down whichever lane came up ahead of me.

* * * * *

I pulled out of the clutches of sleep and came face to face with a white ceiling. My thoughts were scattered, but soon I realized that I was in my bedroom at my house in Scarsdale.

I felt groggy. I sensed some dampness at the back of my head. My hair felt wet. I touched the spot with a finger and it came back stained with blood. I got up and there it was. Blood on my pillow. Whoever had hit me had done more damage than I'd thought. I prayed that only my skin and not my skull was broken.

I brought my feet down onto the floor and sat at the edge of the bed. My whole body ached. My limbs felt like I'd been pummeled by a sledge hammer. I rose up and dizziness came flooding to my head. With labored effort I made my way to the bathroom. There, I filled the tub almost to its brim and immersed myself in the water up to my neck. I lay there and gratefully welcomed the soothing effect of the water to my body.

I lay there and dozed.

When next I opened my eyes the water had gone cold. I got out of the tub and crossed to the shower cubicle for a long warm shower. I stepped out of the shower feeling extra refreshed and with renewed strength. But nothing could erase the memories of last night. It was all still hard to believe; like a feverish nightmare that just didn't want to let go of me.

It made me take a drive to the spot of the tragedy. Getting there only increased my mental anguish.

Because there was nothing. Absolutely no evidence of last night's calamity. Not a single drop of blood to bear testimony to the murder of the woman who would have been my wife.

I got back into the SUV and drove away from there. My mind was in a fog.

Funny that you meet someone and in the short time you spend together your life is changed forever. I had been on the verge of killing myself. But after meeting her I had loved life with a new, spirited passion. Wanted to grasp every grain of dear life and share it with her and enjoy plenty more days by her side.

She was small, but full of dynamite. Very compact but full of bubbling enthusiasm for life. And now she was not here.

In the little time that we had been together I had fallen deeply in love with her. I didn't get to tell her that.

It had not been a passing infatuation. It had not been a wayward obsession.

I had not even once called her by name. And now she was gone...

The crashing metal jarred me out of my thoughts. Some crazy moron had rammed his vehicle against the right side of the X5. And the fool was going to do it again. To my consternation, he brought his Hummer level with my car and swung it at the BMW's body. The BMW absorbed all the impact and almost toppled over. I held firm to the steering wheel and tried to maintain the SUV's balance. I stole a quick glance at my assailant on the next lane. I swear to God my dislike for Hummers started at that moment.

I stepped on the gas pedal and the BMW X5 shot forward. The Hummer slid out of sight behind me but reappeared soon, faster and more intent on running me over this time. It came close behind my tail and hit my rear bumper. I felt the full brunt of the impact as the X5 was propelled forward. Then the bastard drove the Hummer forward, level with me and I caught a glimpse of his grin through his window.

He waved at me.

I ignored him and forced my eyes on the road. The Hummer came crashing against my side and this time its mission was successful. The BMW's wheels leapt off the tarmac and went higher and higher. I was thrown all over the interior of the car and for a while everything was in circles.

Then blackness.

I welcomed the blackness wholly and made it a part of me. Somewhere in the back of my mind a memory flashed that someone had warned me that my life was in danger. And then the memory faded.

Part 2

Chapter 11

Wayne stood at the foot of the bed and stared down at the motionless form lying there. Tubes were connected to the body at various points. His eyes went around the hospital room and took in the machinery located at the head of the bed. Besides a wall cabinet, there was little else in the room. The thick smell of medicine hung heavily in the room.

He went round the bed and knelt down. For a long time he looked at the bandaged face turned upwards but lifeless. Wearily, he took a rosary from his frock and weaved it around the fingers of the inert form on the bed. Then he bowed down his head and chanted a prayer. When he rose back to his feet he wiped away at the tears wetting his face.

'Any change?' asked Mr. Shelley.

Wayne shook his head. 'But the doctors said he has stabilized.

His eyes went to the edge of the bed and looked down. Unconsciously, he raised his hand up to his head and ran it through his black hair. Then he went to the window and stood there with his hands in his pockets. He stared outside with unseeing eyes.

'I'm taking him for treatment abroad,' he said quietly without turning his back.

'You think they aren't doing a good job here?' Wayne asked him.

'No, they are,' responded Mr. Shelley. 'It's for security reasons.

Wayne fell silent.

His father turned around to face him. 'We can't be sure if this was really an accident or somebody wanted him dead.'

Wayne nodded, silent still.

'I get the feeling this might not have just been an accident,' said his father. 'And I won't just sit around and watch whoever did this come to finish off my son. I've got too many enemies who are capable of doing such a thing.' His eyes fell on the prostate body of his unconscious son. 'I want him to be immediately transferred to a hospital abroad.'

'It's probably a good decision,' said Wayne stolidly.

His father paced the room thoughtfully and came to a stop next to Wayne. 'I've already lost two people I loved very much,' he said seriously. 'I can't afford to lose another.'

The memories flooded back...

* * * * *

1960

Prisca Thorne awakened from dreamless sleep with a smile painted prettily on her face. It had been there as she slept and it was still there when she shook the sleep from her eyes. She quietly slid out of bed and tip-toed noiselessly on her bare feet to the window. She drew back the curtains and eased the window open. The young morning son spread into the room. She deeply breathed in the sweet aroma of the fresh air coming into the room. Everything was okay.

Today she was officially Mrs. Robert Shelley. It felt good. Last night, their first night together, had been wonderful. She had heard horrors about first sexual encounters, but was glad Robert had dispelled her fears by guiding her with minimal pain. Standing there by the window and gazing into space, she recalled how climacteric her union to her husband had been.

Prisca Thorne had been born into a rich family. Rich by local and national standards, that is. As a baby she had been an angelic bubble of life that attracted the kind attention of passersby, much to the delight of her proud nannies. From birth she commanded attention, and solicited exclamations of delight.

Everybody knew and loved the Thornes. It was one of those families who had everything. Mr. Thorne was successful at making money and quite lavish at spending it. He was a ruthless businessman and a generous philanthropist. It was the last quality that made him a favorite within the local community. He had made his fortune doing speculative business and because of this, he had put his family through numerous vicissitudes of life. Twice he had reduced them all to comparable poverty by engaging in unfortunate adventures. Their luxurious homes had vanished with the servants, cars and horses. Refuge had been sought in dismal apartments during temporary eclipses, but all this had never impaired his family's faith in him.

His family was small. There was his wife and their daughter, Prisca. At seventeen, she had the fresh beauty of a blooming rose and was not a single bit spoilt. She simply was the best looking girl in the neighborhood, with a well-proportioned body structure and breathtaking physical endowments.

At a time when one car in the family was considered a luxury, the diversity in the choice of cars available to Prisca Thorne was great. Her parents were strict Catholics, unsnobbish high society, and intensely ambitious for their only child. To an extent their wish was fulfilled, for at twenty-three Prisca was engaged to the descendant of French aristocrats, large landowners and one of the oldest Catholic families in France.

The miraculous feat was performed by Robert Shelley. He supplanted the aristocratic fiancé, swept the fiancée off her feet in defiance of her shocked parents and took his bride, reared in complete luxury, to a grim Oregon town, where he was an invoicing clerk on an inadequate salary. He had nothing to his name but a battered Plymouth. Physically, he was blessed with attractive features. He was tall, handsome and quiet. He always brought with him an atmosphere of high spirits, good looks and improvised gaiety.

At twenty-one, he still retained his youthful looks and was now recently married. She loved him and knew that it would always be like this, beginning from that day he had asked her to marry him.

'Give me one suitable reason why I should,' she had said cleverly.

'I excite you,' he had returned. 'I stimulate your emotions and make you wish to do things you wouldn't ordinarily want to do with another guy.'

It was true. She knew it. They both knew it. And she couldn't deny it.

Presently, he stirred awake on the bed and opened his eyes. He found his wife lying with her head on his chest, watching him with blue eyes full of affection. He smiled at her.

Her smile widened into a grin. 'I'm madly in love with you,' she told him in a whisper.

He stroked her auburn hair. 'And it's a feeling that's permeating to me too,' he said. 'And you know what that makes us?'

'One perfectly happy couple,' she replied.

They lay in each other's arms quietly for a while, enjoying the feeling that had engulfed them.

After a long moment of silence, he asked her, 'So, do we have breakfast today or what?'

She balanced herself on her elbows. 'No,' she said with a naughty smile. 'We skip breakfast.'

* * * * *

The Trevi Fountain is found in Rome's Piazza di Trevi in the Quirinale district. Legend stands that if you throw a coin into the fountain you'll have everlasting happiness. The two newlyweds spent some time there and threw their own share of coins. They had some pictures of themselves taken there too, freezing their moments of happiness into immortality.

A tour guide ushered them along the corridors of the small Vatican City. They were lectured on its history and traditions, things that the young wife already knew, owing to her background and the private schools she had gone to. In reality, she was a bluestocking, but Robert didn't let that mere fact intimidate him. He was bright and caught on easily.

The driver hired for their country tour was a crazed maniac. He swore and let out angry outbursts at other motorists. He drove furiously up and down the mountains of the Liri valley. By the time they reached the monastery at Monte Cassino, destination of main interest, they were absolutely certain their honeymoon in Italy would end in a tragic traffic accident.

The mountainside was surrounded by firs and mountain pines. The scene grew in magnificence as range after range came into view. The site of the monastery had been well chosen for safety and power. The monastery was like a walled city, preserved over the years and carrying with it a cavalcade of history. It was part of the great current of Italian civilization which had been diffused and distributed all over European lands. Situated down in the little town where Roman Casinum had given place to medieval San Germano, emperors, kings and popes had resided, plotted, made war and peace. In 1592 came young St. Benedict to destroy idolatry in the pagan temple on the hill and found the abbey that became the seat of Western monasticism. It had been destroyed and rebuilt five times, and its fame had spread across Europe. Now it was a national monument.

'It's a miracle that it has survived human rage and folly,' remarked Prisca as she outlined its history to her husband. 'Lombards and Saracens ransacked it, but it was always restored.'

Her informative lecture was supplemented by their guide, a monk in a black robe and sandals. He spoke in astonishingly excellent English, with little trace of an Italian accent.

He guided them through the cloister of the strangers, with its twin-columned cistern and baroque statues of Saint Benedict and his sister, Saint Scholastica. A grand flight of steps brought them level with an upper terrace. With wonder, they traversed arcaded corridors, passing processions of dark-eyed boys and masters proceeding from the seminary.

They were led to the great library. The monk told them that it would take years to explore the monastery's treasures. There were 80,000 volumes, 12,000 manuscripts and over 40,000 ancient records kept there – centuries of classical and ancient lore on which the brethren had worked. They were shown the autograph of Pergolesi's Stabat Mater. Medieval copyists had thrived in the great school. But for the Abbot Desiderius, who became Pope in 1086, many classical treasures would have been lost to the world – Varro, Tacitus, Apuleius and others...

All this they drank with gusto, eager to learn about this ancient history.

Their honeymoon culminated with a two-day stay at a trendy hotel suite in Rome. The Italian tour had eroded all of Robert Shelley's life savings but he didn't mind. Anything to make his beautiful bride happy.

It was during their stay at the hotel that they were approached at their dinner table one evening by a total stranger. 'You are Americano, no?' he asked in Italian.

'Yes,' Prisca answered courteously at the stranger.

'I wonder if I may join you for dinner?'

The two newlyweds gave each other furtive glances.

'I have a business proposition to make,' said the man, settling himself down.

And that was how they met Giovanno Pacetti.

* * * * *

On that day he made the first down-payment for his small electronics company he came running into the small apartment. He called out her name but no response came. He went through the living room, decorated with second-hand furniture, and went into the kitchen. He found her there.

She was standing over a pot on the stove, her face wearing a contemplative expression. She was a lovely sight; bare-legged and almost bare-breasted, young, ripe as a peach, bright-eyed, with red curls framing a face of cameo-cut beauty.

He stood there and fell more in love with her than the first time he had laid eyes on her.

She didn't sense him come into the kitchen until he was standing close behind her. She half-turned her face with a glorious smile.

The past months had not been smooth. They'd been living on a strict budget and sacrificing everything to save up for the store. The rent, electricity and water bills were up and the due-dates had long expired. Things were not easy. This morning she had gone to a pawn shop and sold some of her small possessions. She had been doing that frequently for the last few weeks. She did not tell him about it. It was better he didn't know.

The meal she was cooking right now had been made possible by this morning's transaction.

'What're you cooking?' he asked, sniffing in the delightful aroma rising from the pot.

'A good meal for a good husband.'

'Do you still love me?'

'What kind of silly question is that?' she scolded rashly. 'You know I do.'

'I know. Just that sometimes it kills me to see you suffer like this.' He took her hands in his and squeezed them affectionately. 'One day I'm gonna pay you back for making you go through all this.'

Never did one man with apparently so little possess so much ambition. He had hidden reserves of character that were invisible to the casual eye. A tremendous worker, he was almost reckless in the little things and fanatically tenacious in pursuit of the main object. It was this latter quality that had enabled him to sway his wife from her original choice of marriage.

'You know all that doesn't mean anything to me, Robert,' she said in response. 'As long as we're together, that's what matters.'

It was as if he wasn't hearing her. He held her hands firmly and looked into her eyes with deep affection. 'One day I'm gonna give you all the jewelry to make your heart happy.'

He did that and more.

She reciprocated by giving him three wonderful children.

Chapter 12

Wayne slumped himself heavily into a couch. He groaned with exhaustion and leaned his head against the back of the chair. He was tired. Very tired. It had been a hectic day. Sorting out papers with the hospital and immigration authorities had demanded most of his attention. At least his father had been there to oversee proceedings. At the end of it all, Duncan, still unconscious, had been transported across the Atlantic to the United Kingdom. Their father had accompanied him on the trip in a chartered plane.

Wayne Shelley tried to force sleep to come to his eyes but it wouldn't come. His head was full of worries about Duncan. He closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer. Then wearily he rose from the chair and walked to a wall cabinet. He pulled out a glass and carefully placed it on the flat surface of the counter. Then he poured himself a very large whisky.

He raised the glass to his mouth and took an unhealthy gulp. The whisky stung his throat as it went down. He winced and took another sip. Tiredly, he crossed back to his chair, clutching his glass in his hand.

He wanted to forget. Just wanted to forget about the troubles of the day. He knew that he was letting himself go but couldn't help it. It was unbearable to think of Duncan lying like a vegetable on some hospital bed.

As Duncan had been wheeled into the private plane on a stretcher-bed, Wayne had waved his hand automatically. 'Hang in there, Duncan,' he had whispered. 'Just hang in there.'

He knew that he had always turned to Duncan for help. Duncan was the reliable big brother. He had always depended on Duncan whenever in trouble. Just like a year ago, when it had been Duncan who had seen him through that dark patch of his life.

* * * * *

November, 2001

Upon his discharge from the rehabilitation center, Wayne had decided to go and convalesce at his father's summer house in Jacksonville. There, he stayed alone, trying to relieve himself of the strains of the past years, and recharge his batteries for a new life.

One afternoon, he went to the central business district of Jacksonville to do some shopping. He got a shopping trolley from a supermarket stand and pushed it along the main aisles of the supermarket as he went about his shopping. Having bought all he wanted, he casually pushed his trolley out of the supermarket through the wide entrance.

Out of the blue came an empty trolley that slammed onto the side of his. His trolley toppled over and emptied its contents onto the pavement.

'Oh my God!' a woman's voice gasped close by. And all of a sudden he was showered with a flurry of apologies.

The stranger who had caused the trolley accident crouched down quickly and helped him pack his groceries back into his trolley. 'I'm terribly sorry about this, Mister,' she said with an unmistakable mid-western accent.

'It's not your fault,' he said without looking up. 'Accidents happen.'

Picking up the last item, he stood up and got ready to push his trolley away.

'These are many groceries you got here,' she said. 'Got a party or sum'n?'

For the first time, he looked at her. And realized how gorgeously pretty she was. She had dimples that were presently prominent because of her lovely smile.

He nearly forgot she had asked him a question. 'No,' he responded. 'I'm trying my hand at making seafood pasta for dinner. But I'm really afraid I'll set the kitchen on fire. I got nothing but a magazine recipe to follow.'

Her wonderful smile remained on her face. 'Would you...' she started and paused hesitantly. 'Would you like me to help you with it?'

'Um-er-uh...yeah, sure. I'd be very grateful.'

She nodded, but didn't move away. They stood there, looking at each other without speaking.

'So, that's it, then,' she said with a sudden self-conscious grin. She began to walk away, but then stopped in her tracks. 'By the way, I'm Janice. Janice Clark.'

'Janice Clark,' he repeated dreamily. 'Nice meeting you, Janice.'

He stood there and gazed intently at her, taking in all her features. He remained standing there, watching her as she disappeared with her trolley into the supermarket.

By the time he got enough strength to move away, his heat was no longer his.

* * * * *

He opened the door and invited her inside the house.

'I'm sorry,' he said without preamble.

She turned and gave him a blank expression.

'I forgot to tell you my name yesterday,' he explained.

'Oh.' It was a mild remark. 'I noticed.'

'And I also forgot to tell you where I stay,' he said, thrusting his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. 'Incidentally, how did you know where to find me?'

'This is a small town,' she said softly. 'You're new here, aren't you?'

'Well...' he shrugged. 'Not entirely.'

'Still,' she said. 'It isn't hard to recognize strangers in this town.'

He looked into her hazel-brown eyes and lost himself admiring her beauty.

Her voice brought him back to reality. 'So, shall we cook?'

'Uh-huh,' he muttered absent-mindedly. 'Come this way, please. I've been reading the recipe and I think I can make it through the basics.'

'Don't worry; with me helping you I'm sure we'll make the most excellent dish in the history of pasta.'

She was right. It turned out that she was an excellent cook herself. But she too was struck by his amazing talents in the kitchen.

'Where did you learn to beat dough like that?' she asked at one point during their conversation at the table as they sat down savoring their dinner.

'I've had my fair share of travels,' he told her. 'And I pick a thing or two here and there.'

'What do you do?' she asked with a curious face.

He hesitated before answering her. 'You might find this hard to believe, but I'm a priest.'

Her eyes bulged in disbelief. 'A priest? As in the Pope's flock?'

'Yeah, I'm a Roman Catholic priest.'

She let some moments pass as that information sunk in, eating her food in silence. Then she raised her eyes to look at him with a taunting smile on her lips. 'So, tell me, have you ever kissed His Holiness' ring?'

'No,' he admitted. 'I'm afraid not. It's been a lifelong dream but as yet unrealized.'

'So, you've never been to the Vatican, then?'

'I'm afraid the answer to that question is yes. I've been to the Vatican, but it doesn't mean I met the Pope personally.'

'Tell me about yourself,' he said, abruptly changing the subject.

'There's isn't much to tell, really,' she said with a pensive look on his face.

'But I'm sure I will enjoy listening to your voice as you tell the little that is there,' he persuaded gently.

'I'm single, but not looking around.' She cleared her throat and fidgeted uncomfortably in her chair. 'I live with my daughter. She's seven years old.'

'Is she as beautiful as her mother?' His eyes were locked with hers.

For all her confidence, she suddenly blushed. She tried to hide it by standing up and busily clearing the table. 'I must get going. My daughter'll be missing me.'

'Sure,' said Wayne. 'I'll see you to the door.'

He led her to the front door and courteously opened the door for her. 'Thank for coming over, Janice.'

'And thank you for a wonderful meal, Father,' she said with a gracious smile.

'Call me Wayne.'

She nodded and smiled at him. Then she turned to walk away.

'Um-Janice,' he started with a stammer. 'Would it be too much trouble for you if I asked you to come again for dinner tomorrow?'

She seemed to decide before answering. 'No, it wouldn't be any trouble at all, Wayne.'

* * * * *

She did come for dinner the next day. They did not make any dinner.

They did try to get started with the cooking. They didn't get far. Being at such close range, they were both aware of the strong electric currents lurking beneath the surface and binding themselves to each other.

For the first time in all his life, his sexual urges triumphed over his temperance. He found himself desiring...wanting...this woman beyond words. The magnitude of his lust was so phenomenal.

His hands uncontrollably went to her waist and touched it lightly. They stood face to face, unspoken messages passing between their eyes. She looked at him with understanding eyes. Unconsciously, her mouth parted. He moved his head down, leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth. She responded heatedly, wrapping her hands around him. They held each other and kissed hungrily, drawing every ounce of breath out of one another, until they separated to gasp for breath.

Thoughtlessly, he pulled his shirt off his body and the cool air of the room bit his naked flesh and jarred him back to his senses. He hesitated and looked at Janice with an embarrassed face. She gave him a smile of encouragement and proceeded to take off her own clothes.

He stood there in front of her and watched her remove her clothes quickly, taking in all her moves as she undressed. Shortly, she stood in the nude before him. Voluptuous and scintillatingly sensuous. A woman, fully-grown and endowed with all the extras he had never seen in his life. His knowledge of a woman's body was limited to visual images only.

Here was a live specimen. Standing in complete nudity a few inches before him. His eyes traveled all over the sensual contours of her body and drank in all her features. She was irresistibly beautiful. The beauty of the female body was supremely majestic. He stood there motionless, hypnotized by the allure of her beautiful body.

She took a small stride and closed the gap between them. She spoke in a whisper, but her voice sounded loud to his ears. 'Let's make love.'

'I've never...' he started to say but she placed a finger on his lips.

'Ssh, I'll guide you.'

She unbuckled his belt and it slid down along his legs to his ankles. He kicked it off his feet and stood staring at the woman in front of him as if unsure what to do. Her woman smell rose to his nostrils and triggered a chain of chemical reactions in his body.

His penis grew into full strength and stood throbbing hungrily, its head pointing menacingly at her. She edged closer and took him in her hand. She pushed back the skin of his rigid organ, exposing his raw glans. The mauve knob glistened with moisture, the evidence of his lust. She dropped to her knees before him and licked at his penis. It sent an electric bolt shooting through his body. He groaned with raw animal lust.

He leaned down and picked her up in his arms. Carrying her like a fragile package, he took her to the bedroom and laid her gently on the bed linen. On his elbows and knees, he came above her. He grabbed her breasts in his hands and brought his mouth down to kiss them. He took her erect nipples in between his teeth and caressed them with his tongue.

She writhed her thighs as the fire of her desire escalated. She brought her hands up and grabbed his head. She pinned it firmly to her breasts. His hands slid down her body and stroked her thighs. She moaned and brought her knees up. She moved her hands to his buttocks and forced him down. She parted her legs and welcomed him into the warmth of her vagina.

He thrust slowly into the wet hole. The contact with the moist, velvety smoothness caused a tingling sensation to the head of his organ. He groaned deeply and was overcome by a euphoric sensation he didn't understand. He clutched her body and held firmly to her to stop the involuntary trembling of his body. When his head cleared he realized that he had ejaculated prematurely inside her.

'I'm sorry,' he said in a low voice. 'It's my first time...'

'Ssh,' she hushed. 'You're doing fine. I'll help you get your strength back.'

She coaxed his body with her hands and captured his mouth in hers. He found his penis becoming stronger inside her. He began to thrust into her. The pleasure increased with his continued thrusts. He slammed deeper and harder against her pelvis. She gasped and cried out inaudible words. She raised her hips up and worked her pelvis in rhythm with his body. She began to pant helplessly as he banged himself deeper into her. She brought her legs up and wrapped them around his thighs, enclosing him inside their firm lock.

She was seized by a blazing fire deep inside her, and it rose to engulf all the cells of her body. Its intensity grew until she was lost in a maze of circles. Suddenly, his body stiffened and he stopped moving. She felt his body shake as his ejaculation filled her. Her own orgasm rose and she held firm to him as her juices flowed out. He made an involuntary thrust once more into her and she cried in pleasure as another orgasm shook her body. Slowly, weakly, her legs slackened and released their hold on his hips.

In a drowsy state, the power of her senses faded. She was not aware of anything anymore. She didn't feel him disentangling himself from her body. Sleep engulfed her and took the consciousness out of her.

Wayne lay there beside her, fully aware of his surroundings and in touch of all his mental faculties. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't do anything. He was too astounded to move.

He had just had a stunning revelation about the stunning capabilities of the female body he had never known existed. The boundless pleasure that the female body could unleash...the live energy had been there binding them inseparably to each other. He was at a loss for words to describe what he had just felt.

He was new to the magic of orgasm. New to the limitless joys of those explosive moments of complete abandon.

He propped himself on an elbow and slid the sheet down her body. She mumbled incoherently in her sleep and curled herself into a fetal form like a small baby. He stared at her breasts and loved them. His gaze moved and became fixed on the hairy triangle between her legs. He was stunned by the power of that thing. He stared at it in wonder. So, this was what it was capable of doing.

The devout bigots at his church had always told him about heaven. He could negate their views now. This, lying here before his eyes, was pure heaven.

He lay down beside her and pulled the sheet over their bodies. His right hand snaked its way under the sheet until it found the sweetness between her thighs. He cupped it in his hand until he drifted to sleep.

* * * * *

And awakened still with his hand wedged between her thighs.

'What is it?' The question came from him.

On account of her girlish giggling.

'Who's gonna take the confession to absolve you of the sin we committed last night?' she teased.

'Yeah, just keep thinking those happy thoughts, Janice.'

She didn't stop. 'Do you realize that you're still committing a sin with your hand touching my private parts, Father?'

'After what you did to me last night, I can't resist it. Feels good to be holding you like this. I wanna touch it, I wanna feel it, I wanna taste it, I wanna lick it—.'

'For a priest, you're so crass!' she remarked.

'No,' he said. 'As a matter of fact, I'm quite clean. The worst words I can say are "blast it!". That's as far as I would go.'

She laughed and cuddled closer to him.

He moved his hand up and stroked her nipples. 'I never knew a woman's body could hold such limitless pleasures.'

'Maybe I'm just cool like that,' she boasted, kissing him on the mouth.

They lay like that for a long while, holding each other and saying nothing. The silence was broken by his voice moments later.

'I do love you,' he whispered in her ear. 'Have I told you that?'

'A hundred times already.'

'And I'm willing to make it a hundred and one. Will you marry me?'

'Yep,' she answered without hesitation. 'On one condition,' she added with a wonderful smile at him.

He frowned his question.

'That you'll be a good father to my daughter.'

'I've been a father to thousands of souls for the many years. How would I fail to be the father of an adorable little one?'

'I never doubted it. Just needed your confirmation. Promise me also that you'll be good to our son.'

His face was a maze of puzzlement. 'Which son?'

'The one I'm hoping's growing in my womb on account of what we shared last night. We already have a girl. I'm gonna give you a boy to complete the picture.'

He didn't say a thing. Just kissed her for saying that.

After a while she spoke again. 'What're you gonna do now?'

'Don't know.' He thought for a moment. 'Maybe I'm gonna write a movie about my life.'

'And who would get the female lead?'

'Jennifer Lopez.'

'See, I'm not as clueless as you think.'

* * * * *

Later on, she showed him that her talents were not only limited to the bedroom, but diversified. She showed him that she was an excellent cook by producing a meal of fascinating delicacy. She made them both a breakfast of toast bread, mushrooms, scrambled eggs and bacon.

'I want you to spend the rest of the day with me.' The request came while they were having breakfast.

It was not an idea that had been far from her mind. And she said as much.

'Will everything be okay with your daughter?'

'I found somebody to look after her. She'll be okay.'

The bad strokes of Fate never reveal their identity to their victims until it's too late to retrace the path of life. Such was the case for Wayne Shelley and his lover, one Ms. Janice Clark. They had so much time to themselves that day, doing activities that brought them closer to each other. Time passed by unnoticed. A game of chess was followed by an old Western movie, and then they made some snacks to munch while they took a casual walk around the country estate out in the woods. A walk that culminated in them coming to rest by the side of a small lake deep in the woods.

In one of those moments of complete abandon, they took off their clothes and went racing into the water, swimming in the nude. Afterwards, it was an episode of lovemaking by the lakeside. As they lay in each other's arms, stark naked and oblivious of their surroundings, the birds sang.

And somewhere not far away a camera snapped away.

Chapter 13

March, 2002

She awakened with a scream.

It was caused by a bad dream. And her body was drenched in sweat. Her throat was dry. She swung her legs sideways and her feet touched the floor. In a dazed state, she walked to the kitchen to find some water. She drank with difficulty as her teeth clattered uncontrollably against the glass. Some of the water spilled onto her and trickled down her neck and mingled with the sweat of her body.

The dream was still deeply etched in her memory for her to stop trembling. The dream was not a first time visitor to her sleep. It had come countless times to her but it still had the power to make her tremble with fear when she awakened. Full consciousness did nothing to eclipse the vivid images in her head.

She could still see herself walking down the staircase. A small kid in a white floral dress. Her hair was tied in two pigtails at the back of her head. She was afraid to walk down the stairs, but nevertheless she did. She took one step at a time and paused, looking into the darkness around at her, trying to penetrate it with her eyes, her heart thudding in her chest like a drum.

Still, she headed down towards the dungeon. It was really a basement, but she always thought of it as a dungeon. Slowly and cautiously she walked down the stairs towards the door. When she was there she stopped and listened. There were noises coming from inside. Animal cries of agony, mingled with muffled voices of pleading. She stood there, rooted to the spot and mortified by the despair she heard coming from inside. She was afraid to go inside, yet she was also afraid to stand there alone by herself outside the dungeon.

The door opened suddenly.

Her mother stood there, glaring at her. Rage shone in the pupils of her eyes. She stepped outside, closed the door quickly and approached with her hand outstretched. The belt came slashing across the young girl's shoulder before she had little time to react. The pain seared throughout the nerves of her body and she cried out. The belt went up quickly again. She saw it descending down towards her...

But then it was a knife! The belt had changed magically into a knife! And the hand holding it belonged to a man. An ugly, vicious face with long, disheveled hair all over it. The sharp point of the knife lunged dangerously towards her throat but she ran. Ran as fast as she could.

She was no longer in a dark dungeon. She was in broad daylight, on a familiar street, even though she couldn't pin a name to it. People watched her indifferently as she ran. She looked back and her tormentor was in hot pursuit. She ran towards a crowd, screaming for help. Many hands grabbed her and forced her to stop. Her tormentor caught up with her. She was forced to the ground by many merciless hands. The ugly face hovered above her. She screamed at the top of her voice. She was rewarded by voices, many voices, rejoicing and laughing at her. The voices filled her head and she was overcome by terror. The man raised his knife to stab her chest.

That's where it stopped. The dream always ended there. And it would leave her wide awake, trembling with fear.

'Shirley?'

She jumped in fright and turned around.

The owner of the voice was standing at the door. Kate Wainwright switched on the light and the room was suddenly bathed in a bright yellow glow.

'I startled you,' said Kate. 'Sorry. Couldn't sleep?'

'Had a frightful dream, but I'm okay now.'

Her roommate walked over to her. 'You sure?'

'Yeah, I'll be alright.' She took a gulp of water from her glass. 'I'll try and get some sleep.'

Kate threw a look at the opposite wall and her eyes landed on the microwave timer. 'No sense in me going back to bed. Duty calls.'

'I didn't know you are in the early morning shift,' said Shirley with a slight frown.

'New patient. Arrived yesterday from across the Atlantic.' Kate gave her roommate a conspiratorial look. 'Kinda cute. Sadly he's still in a coma. Hope he recovers soon.'

'Strange how people find love in the least expected of places,' her friend mocked with a smile.

'That's not what I was suggesting. I was only expressing my compassion for a poor soul.'

'Right,' said Shirley skeptically. 'Anyway, good luck with your American.'

* * * * *

The flight attendant placed his food on the little foldaway platform in front of him. Her nose twirled involuntarily. He smelled of stale sweat and something else she couldn't define. Even though she smiled at him when she gave him the food, her heart was far from smiling. That was the downside of this job. Pretending you liked all the passengers even though you didn't feel good being close to some of them.

He watched the flight attendant move away and walk down the aircraft aisle. There was a discernible little sway of her hips that suggested a bit of athleticism. Probably good in bed. He shrugged imperceptibly and focused his attention on his food. He had a monstrous appetite. It took him exactly three minutes and thirty-four seconds to wolf down everything that had been given to him. A loud belch told him that airline food wasn't as bad as some people made it out to be. Or maybe British Airways was in a better class than American airlines. Besides, BA's history was tarnished by fewer accidents than US airlines. Which was exactly why he had chosen it instead of a home airline. Still, he was vulnerable to an air crash, but he was certain this plane wouldn't meet the same fate as had the birds that had culminated in the 9/11 crisis of last year. About six months had passed since that time, and he felt a sense of relief things were sort of coming back to normal. Pity American security organs could be penetrated so easily.

The Brits handled their affairs better. Or perhaps they were in love with their country better. A bad thing they were planning to end the Concorde's services. Now, there was a bird. That's what he preferred to travel in, because it took much less time to cross the Atlantic than these bigger birds. Maybe all great things had come to an end someday. The whole Concorde thing couldn't have lasted anyway. The Brits and the Frenchies working together on a project wasn't a good idea to start with. Fools. Kidding themselves. No wonder the problems...

The passengers were advised to fasten their seat belts. The plane was heading for a landing at the Heathrow terminal. A good sight from up above. Yeah, the bloody Limeys knew how to handle their things.

He turned his mind to the mission ahead. He was here. At the place where she had run to. Thought she was clever, running away from him like that. Stupid bitch! He was gonna show her who the clever one was. Didn't she know she couldn't hide from him? Very soon he would smell her skin and enjoy her tortured screams.

As the plane touched down his blood raced as the adrenalin fed his anxiety.

* * * * *

He fought his way through the musky field of pain and opened his eyes.

A blurred figure hovered over him. He blinked and focused his eyes. The blurry figure transformed into a white-clad young woman staring at him. She smiled when she saw that he was awake.

He began to speak but his voice came out as a useless croak. The woman disappeared from his line of vision for a moment and returned moments later with a glass of water in her hand. She helped him lift his head off the pillow and held the glass to his mouth.

He drank the water slowly, taking it in short, careful gulps. When he eased himself back on the bed she let go of him. She placed the glass of water on a bedside before addressing him.

'Hello, Mr. Shelley. My name's Kate Wainwright. You've just regained consciousness...'

Somehow Duncan didn't find that information necessary.

'...You were in a coma for the past 48 hours. But don't worry, you'll be fine.'

Great! Just fucking great! He was in a hospital bed with no idea who he was, and a nurse with a British accent and a dazzling smile was beaming at him as if Santa Claus was coming to town.

'What's this place?' He hadn't meant for it to come out like that. He had wanted to ask...hell, she knew what he meant.

'The North London Medical Centre, sir. We'll do our best to get you back to full recovery.'

The courtesy was sickening. British politeness! Already, he was beginning to dislike her for treating him like a helpless thing.

He propped himself up on an elbow. And in the process badly twisted one of his legs. A sharp pain coursed through his nerves and he let out a loud groan.

Nurse Kate placed her hands on his shoulders and gently forced him back on the bed. 'Take it easy, sir. You have a broken leg.'

It was said softly but it was a command. He tried moving his right leg and it responded. His left leg was a numb heap of stone. He stared at the nurse with questioning eyes.

'It's in a plaster,' she explained. You are lucky it's a lateral fracture. It will heal in no time.' Again the benevolent smile.

The numbness of his left leg told him that he was not incapacitated in a small way. And that wasn't his only problem.

'I want to take a piss.'

Without a response, Nurse Wainwright crouched down beside the bed and from under it pulled out a small metal basin. And proceeded to shamelessly shove it under his bed sheet. A soft hand reached for his private parts!

He lay helplessly there and relieved himself, feeling like a total invalid as Nurse Wainwright held his manhood in her latex gloves. She had a detached look on her face, but he was convinced she was enjoying herself.

When it was over she went out of the room through a side door. Her passive face was to be seen later with a tray in her hands. Its contents lowered Duncan's spirits. He had hoped it would be a tray of food. She set it upon the bedside table and went about the business of sucking a dosage of medicine into a syringe.

'I need something to eat,' Duncan said hopefully.

'Right after your dosage, sir,' she replied kindly. 'It won't take long.'

He knew the kindness was all an act common with nurses. A psychological tactic they all had to cover during their training for the job. She spoke to him as if he was a mere child who had no understanding. She did it condescendingly to belittle him, while gently exerting her authority. All the while coaxing him to allow her to do what she wanted on his body. Nurses! Not his best breed of people.

'My you please shift slightly to your side, sir?'

The politeness was all part of the game. He knew. And he wasn't about to let her win.'

'I'm not taking that. I don't need a shot.'

'Sir, I'm following the doctor's orders. Why don't you let me do this and it'll be over in a second?'

Duncan lost his temper. With no warning. 'I said I don't need your fucking shot!' he yelled. 'Stop the kindness bullshit and leave me the hell alone!'

His hand shot up like an arrow and he slapped away her hand. The syringe fell and clattered noisily on the floor.

Duncan glared angrily at the stunned nurse and felt the anger boiling inside him. He could clearly remember the last time he had been so angry...

Chapter 14

Mid-February, 2002

They met at his home near the Spring Garden City Park.

Duncan met him there at midday. 'Where's the family, Brett?'

Brett walked to the large living room window and stood looking outside for a while before answering. 'Debbie took the kids to the zoo. Guess I'm not her favorite character at the moment.'

Duncan silently reflected that even Brett didn't think highly of himself at the moment. He looked distraught, had visibly lost a considerable amount of weight, and was drinking heavily of late. Already, he had downed two full glasses of bourbon since Duncan had got there.

'Take it easy on the booze, big brother. The Sharon thing's gonna soon be a thing of the past.'

He didn't turn around. Spoke with his back to me. 'It's bigger than you think.'

'What level are we talking?'

'We're talking Red Alert. If the story breaks out it will emerge that Sharon Parrish's death was not an accident, but instead she was murdered. And I might be implicated in the case.'

'Is there any reason why you should be?'

'There's sufficient evidence that could put me away for a long time.'

Duncan felt a sudden need for a strong drink. He leaned forward in his seat and reached for the glass of bourbon that had sat untouched since Brett had poured it for him.

He stood up and went to join his brother by the window. He stared Brett in the face. 'Did you do it?'

The response he got was a nod.

'Why, Brett?' Duncan didn't move his eyes from his brother's face. 'Why?'

He shrugged before answering. 'I don't know.' He let out a loud sigh and gulped down the rest of his drink. 'You get caught up in the dirty tricks of the game and the shit boils up before you have time to back off.'

Trust a politician to come up with words to fit any situation.

'Does Debbie know about this?'

'No.'

'What she doesn't know won't hurt her,' guessed Duncan.

'Those were her exact words.'

Duncan stared out the window. He was standing close to a man who had grown up with him as a little innocent boy. And now that man had been hardened by the vices of politics. Hardened to the extent of participating in the termination of someone's life. He realized that maybe he didn't really know his brother, after all.

'This is probably the end for me. If the letter falls in the wrong hands then I'm goner,' Brett said ruefully. 'There's no hope.'

That was the trouble with politicians. They live a life of illusion; when reality strikes, they can't handle it.

Duncan turned and looked at the man beside him. This boy who had lines of age etched deep in his face while his inside would remain young and naïve. He was suddenly overcome by an overwhelming wave of pity for this victim of circumstances.

'It will turn out alright,' he said in a consoling tone. 'I'll take care of it.'

Brett stared back at him with a look of despair on his face. 'Please help, Duncan. If the shit hits the fan I'm finished.'

* * * * *

After seeing Duncan out, Brett returned to the living room. He poured himself a large Scotch whiskey on the rocks and went to sit on his favorite chair. He leaned back on the chair and loosened his tie. He unfastened the top buttons of his shirt to allow for better circulation.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. In that state of relaxation he thought how better his life would be if he had chosen another profession. But he had always been so fixed about politics from an early age that it was impossible to imagine himself in any other line of business.

Going through Yale had been easy. Even if it wasn't, one created for himself chances that made it a piece of cake. You didn't go to Yale to come back with nothing. If it became difficult, you devised methods that made it a smooth ride. Methods some would call cheating, but known within the student body as "enhancing your chances of success". Even Yale was not immune to such schemes, even though its guardians would like the outside world to believe otherwise.

Engineered by the masters of the game, his career had taken off well, poised for great success. He was young, from a wealthy family, and full of confidence. What was required was power. His marriage to Debbie Marshall sealed the deal. He already had money, so his marital affiliation was in a way a marriage into power. Naturally this abundant combination of qualities permitted him access into various doors. Women came unsolicited. Women were attracted to men in positions of power because they wanted to be a part of that aura.

Maybe that was actually a disadvantage. Women came to you left, right and center so hard and fast that when you regained your sanity it was too late to back off.

Sharon Parrish was one such woman. She was a young aide, fresh from college and besotted to him. He took her to bed just like any hungry lioness that wanted to be fed. Making love to a young fresh thing was always a boost to his virility. He could still remember her down on her knees before him, her luscious buttocks backed to him. He had held her ass in his hands and drove his penis forward, deep inside her...

Jesus, this was power! Real power.

* * * * *

'She's an expendable part of your history that has to be eliminated and shut away in a closet.'

Brett Shelley looked at the man with thinly-veiled disgust. He hated the way the bastard belittled life. But what he hated most was that the man was making sense. He knew that if his affair with Sharon Parrish ever came to light he would be in deep shit.

Foolish bitches! The trouble was that they got crazy notions of love into their heads and it became impossible to get the bitches out of your life. Couldn't they simply have sex with no strings attached?

And now he had to hire the services of this assassin. He didn't even know the bastard's name. The man had said it was better that way. What Brett knew was that the man had driven endless hours from Chicago to Denver to eliminate the possibility of being tracked down. That would happen if he had used an airline for the trip.

If Brett had a better choice he wouldn't go ahead with this. But he couldn't let his affair with Sharon go public. That would be political suicide. Many men's lives had been destroyed by the mere mention of the word affair.

'Can this thing be traced back to me?' he asked the man concernedly.

'It doesn't have to. In fact, I've never seen you in my life.' The man rose to his feet to indicate that he was done here. It was up to him to decide what sort of "accident" would take Sharon Parrish's life. The money in used bills would be picked up at an arranged place two weeks after the "accident".

That was it then. Brett had just signed someone's death warrant. And he wondered when it would start to haunt him.

* * * * *

She let him in and closed the door.

Then she leaned against it and stared at him silently.

He stared back at her, silent too. It was a Sunday morning, and she was dressed in jogging slacks and her jet-black hair fell loosely on her shoulders. Her natural beauty was accentuated by the fact that she wore no make-up. He had to admit to himself that she looked very pretty. Funny how lovely a woman suddenly looks when she's no longer yours.

He looked away from her and moved his eyes around the room. She certainly was doing well for herself. Her apartment was decorated with de luxe furniture.

'Didn't know you were in town.'

Her words hit him like a distant whisper. He pulled himself out of his momentary reverie. 'Just got here, and I came direct to see you.'

She walked slowly towards the center of the room. 'Please have a seat.'

She took a seat opposite him. She sat demurely on the couch and smoothed her hair back. She really looked lovely. He resisted the sudden impulse to compliment her.

'I came to ask a special favor of you.'

She didn't respond.

'My brother Brett is in a kind of fix and he needs your help to sort out the mess.'

'I'm afraid it's too big to be hushed.'

He was surprised. 'You know about it?'

She just nodded silently.

'How?'

'Let's just say I have my own sources.'

Duncan fell silent for a minute. 'So, what's it gonna be?'

'I'm sorry, Duncan. Really, I am. But I can't help you.'

'For God's sake, Clarissa, this falls under your jurisdiction, doesn't it?'

'It does, but I can't block it. That would be an obstruction of justice. If it hits the papers I will be on the firing line.'

'Come on, don't give me that crap. You're the goddamn DA, you can quash this before it even breaks.'

'That's true. But I can't. I won't.'

He sighed heavily. 'Clarissa, I'm begging you with all my heart.'

'I'm sorry, Duncan, but I can't. This is too big a case to drop. I've waited all my life for a case such as this one.'

'Jesus! Clarissa, we're talking about a man's life here, not just another faceless statistic. It's my fucking brother, for crying out loud! And all you do is think about yourself. Can't you at least feel some compassion? Didn't I mean anything to you?'

'You did. And I swear you still do. But this is a chance for me to go on top. And I can't let it go. I'm sorry,' she repeated.

He sat there and tried to calm himself down. A wave of anger had engulfed every part of his body and was spreading like a cancer to all his cells. 'So this is what it means to you,' he said quietly. 'Political mileage. A higher office.' He stood up and stared down at her. 'But you should remember that you're destroying another man's life. A thing like this breaks out and it will be political destruction for Brett.'

Dejectedly, he took heavy steps towards the door. He pulled it open and held it for a moment before turning to her. 'Goodbye, Assistant District Attorney. And may you rot in hell.'

That last statement hung in the air even after he had slammed the door shut with a loud bang. She remained staring absent-mindedly at the door for a long time. She didn't feel the tear that ran down her cheek from her left eye until she tasted its saltiness on her lips.

Duncan didn't understand. She was torn between two loyalties. A choice between a love she couldn't have and a profession she still had. A profession where failure was abhorred and success rewarded. The case of Congressman Brett Shelley would definitely enhance her career prospects.

And gratitude was due in no small part to her cousin, a lieutenant in the local police force. He had visited her to seek counsel on what he should do with the letter and pictures sent to his precinct by Diane Thomas.

With a weary sigh, she stood up and walked across the room to a drawer. She fetched a key from it and went into her study. There, she headed for her bureau and unlocked one of the drawers. She pulled out a large white envelope and emptied out its contents onto the desk. The damning photos.

She held in her hands the destiny of a man. And in a way her destiny too.

She picked up the phone on her desk.

* * * * *

Brett Shelley , Lower House Representative, Oregon, woke up early from bed, owing to the simple-enough-to-understand fact that he couldn't sleep. He admired Debbie Shelley, née Marshall, daughter of a politician and wife of a politician, whose soft snoring indicated that she would not awaken for at least the next couple of hours. Blessed soul.

He moved silently from the bed and fetched his night gown from the closet. Silently he went out of the bedroom and made his way to his luxurious study. There was a bottle of brandy on the large walnut desk. He didn't bother to get a glass. He sat down on the thickly-padded chair behind the desk and took a large swig from the bottle. He felt the alcohol trickling down his intestines and felt sick. He just managed not to throw up. Bad to start a day on alcohol. He sat there, feeling the brandy begin to cure him of the hangover from last night. More sips of the liquor and he would be light-headed. Debbie would kill him if she knew he was doing this.

He stood up, pushed his chair back and got down on all fours under the desk. As a man whose life was shrouded in the intrinsic mysteries of politics, secrecy to him became essential with regards to certain documents that came into his hands. Documents that couldn't be trusted to stay locked in the sanctity of his work office. Thus, he'd had a safe installed under his study desk, and this was where all his vital information was stored, together with large chunks of money in case of an emergency. The contents of the concealed safe included a small .22 gun that was kept loaded, more for security from unwanted intruders than anything else.

He clicked open the safe now and brought the gun out. He closed shut the safe and returned to his sitting position behind the desk. He held the gun in the palm of his hand and contemplated it intensely, it was in fine condition. He released the safety catch and carefully laid the .22 on the desk.

A glance cast at his desk watch revealed that it was nearing 6am. He decided to go to the front door to collect the morning papers, a chore that was part of his morning ritual. A man in his position couldn't do without yearly subscriptions to the major national papers, and as such he received the New York Times and the Washington Post each morning at his doorstep, but they were beaten in arrival by the local The Oregonian.

When he stepped outside, there was only the New York Times and the Oregonian to be found. The Washington Post was notorious for getting to him late on several days. He took the two papers and shut the front door before heading back to his study.

He sat down on the leather chair with a grunt that was caused more by the beginning of inebriation than any other discomfort. He raised the bottle of brandy to his mouth and took a hungry pull at it. He placed the bottle next to the .22 upon the expensive desk before turning his undivided attention to the papers. Loyally, he started with the Oregonian.

And his heart skipped a beat. The major article on the front page was screaming his name. By the time he had finished reading the story, a tremor had begun in his hands. He threw down the newspaper and went for the Times. He found a similar story on Page 4 with pictures of him and Sharon, made decently but still suggestive of the sex scandal they were meant to portray.

The paper fell of its own volition onto the desk. He felt a sudden heat overwhelm him and sweat exuding from all the pores of his body. He placed both elbows on the desk, leaned forward and held his head in his hands. He stayed in that position for a long time. When he raised his head again his palms were wet with sweat.

Duncan was wrong. It couldn't be stopped. A scandal of immense magnitude had broken out and they would slay him. He shook his head. It couldn't be stopped. It just couldn't be stopped.

Slowly, he picked up the gun from the desk and raised it to his head.

Chapter 15

Mid-March 2002

She was smiling at him. It seemed she couldn't erase the smile from her face. She was holding in her hands a portable wash-basin. She came and set it at the foot of the bed. He noticed that her hands were covered in latex gloves.

'Let's hope you haven't come to torment me again,' Duncan said hopefully.

'No,' she replied. 'This time I want to give this old body of yours a dry wash.' She lifted the sheets off him and exposed his naked body.

'Why do I get the sudden feeling that this isn't such a good idea?'

Nurse Kate Wainwright didn't answer that. She just gave him that condescending smile that got to his nerves. But he had been here long enough to learn how to deal with it. He just let her pathological politeness not bother him.

He lay prostate in a relaxed fashion and watched her as she swabbed his body with a sponge. A smell hit his nasal passages and he hated it because it smelled like disinfectant. He didn't even want to ask. 'Tell me, why do I keep getting you as my nurse when the hospital's got hordes of your ilk?'

She glanced at him. 'Let's just say I've adopted you.'

His torso done, she was now swabbing his groin. Shortly, her hands were playing around his crotch. He moved his healthy leg sideways to help open the cleft of his thighs. He watched her with an mused expression. She had good looks; a good structure and an attractive smile. She might have had a pale complexion, but she wasn't a bad-looking girl.

She began to brush the wet sponge against his balls. That aroused him, but she didn't seem to notice. She worked with the passive face of a trained poker player. But he knew that she was loving it. Inside she was probably bursting with laughter.

'Exactly what kind of fool name is Wainwright?' It was more to hit back at her than anything else. 'And Kate? That's kind old-fashioned, don't you think? I mean, if your grandma was named Kate I'd understand. But you—.'

'My full name is Kathleen Wainwright. And, to answer your question, I don't see anything wrong with it.' She bent down to dip the sponge into the wash-basin before continuing to swab his thighs.

'Maybe it isn't a bad name after all. Made up of two celebrated names. Alfred Wainwright published a book in 1973 called A Coast to Coast Walk. Kathleen Turner was a middle-aged seductress in a West End production, The Graduate.'

She stole a glance at him and said nothing.

Duncan found that little speech of his uproariously funny and he laughed hysterically. On second thoughts, it was probably not funny. Maybe it was the anesthetics that were making him crazy. He tried another tact. 'I'm sorry I snapped at you the other day. It's just that I'm allergic to morphine and the sight of a syringe makes me react badly.'

She paused what she was doing and stared at him. 'And there I was thinking it was the shock of waking up in hospital.'

The kid did have a sense of humor after all. But she didn't give him the opportunity to hit back at her.

'Turn over,' she ordered.

He obliged, and was helped by her gloved hand onto his belly. She began to clean his back slowly and diligently. Feeling her rubbing motions along his flesh gave him a sense of relaxation. He wished she would do it forever.

'When am I getting out of here?' he asked her. 'I've been here for two weeks and already it seems like an eternity. I dread the thought of another two weeks at this place.' At least he was being honest to both himself and her.

'You don't like it here?' She went on before he could supply her with a reply. 'I thought we were giving you the best treatment you can get; giving you superb food, and on top of that you've got one Ms. Kathleen Wainwright to take good care of you.'

'I'm not complaining about that,' he said with his eyes closed. 'Only that when I'm here I'm shut out of the world. I don't know what's happening. I'm used to being in the center of the action. And staying here is enervating my spirit...'

'I understand,' she said, helping him onto his back. 'Don't worry. Only a few more days for your leg to fully recover and the doctors will remove the plaster. Then you're free to get to whatever crusades you may have in mind.'

She placed the sheets back on top of his body and got ready to leave.

He wanted to ask exactly what a "few days" meant but he thought better of it. Instead, he teased her. 'I thought I was gonna get a massage as well.'

'That will come from the physio,' she answered with a serious expression on her face. 'Speaking of which, your daily exercise will be due in 30 minutes.'

'Great, another opportunity for the fool to demonstrate his ability to annoy me.'

'He's only trying to help you get back on your feet again, literally,' Kate said admonishingly.

He watched her as she walked away from the bed towards the door. There was a slight sway of her hips inside her white uniform. And he had to admit to himself that it made him want to run after her and hold her body in his hands.

She got to the door and paused, looking back towards him. 'When you get discharged, I'd like us to do lunch some time. I'd like to show you London.'

'That's the greatest thing you've said to me since I woke up from a coma to see you smiling beautifully at me.'

She laughed. 'So that's settled, then.'

'Yeah.'

She opened the door and stepped outside. His voice stopped her.

'Hey, Kate, enjoy the rest of your day.'

She smiled back at him and walked out of the room before shutting the door softly after her.

* * * * *

When it re-opened minutes later he thought he would see her pretty face again, but it was another face.

Wayne Shelley, 36-year-old priest of the Roman Catholic Church, soon to be retired. He held a large envelope in one hand. He entered into the room and approached Duncan's bed with a smile of encouragement on his youthful face. He pulled the only chair in the room closer to the bed and sat down. 'How're you doing?'

'Pulling along. Can't complain about the food. The doctors are good. And I was assigned a good-looking chick for a nurse. Guess I'm having the time of my life.' His voice betrayed the lie. 'It is, after all, the best private hospital in the UK.'

'And they know you're a doctor so there's professional courtesy as well.'

Duncan's eyes opened wider. 'You told them I'm a doctor?' he closed his eyes and wished for another answer even though he knew what the answer to that question would be.

'It was pointless to lie. One of the doctors recognized your name from an article you once contributed to the New England Journal of Medicine on yellow fever.'

Duncan chose to ignore that.

'They tell me the plaster will be off in a week or so.'

'Yeah, and I'll be free to run around like a happy Chihuahua.'

'Do you ever stop?' Wayne said with a laugh.

'Hey, television shows here stink, so I gotta create my own humor.' His face became serious. 'How's Janice?'

'She's okay. Sent her regards. She wanted to come with me, but we can't be seen together yet.'

'Shane?'

'I took him to Portland. He's being treated good.' He stretched his hand forward and gave Duncan the envelope he had arrived with.

Duncan accepted the envelope with a frown.

'From Clarissa,' explained Wayne.

Duncan held it in his hand for a while and contemplated it. After a moment, he took a deep breath and tore it open.

It was a large card. A beautiful get-well-soon card. He spread it open and read the message inside. It was written in the lovely hand of a meticulous and careful woman:

To the days we had

I still wish them anew,

To the moments we shared

Even though they were few

P.S: I will always love you. Always.

A mist clouded his eyes and he stared into space. Distantly, he felt Wayne hold his hand. He raised his cloud-heavy eyes and looked at Wayne.

His younger brother squeezed his hand comfortingly. 'Don't worry, everything will turn out fine.'

They both remembered that Duncan had used those exact same words to console Wayne.

Chapter 16

End of July, 2001

Those days he was staying at a $2-million apartment in Central Park South. The place was a fine example luxurious living, and sumptuous enough to make any guest wish they'd never have to leave. All of them except one.

His father.

'Claustrophobic,' he said when he came to visit that night. And it wasn't for the first time he had made that observation. 'No wonder there's a big number of New Yorkers who kill themselves each year. Then the "experts" blame it on stress. It's solitary confinement in high-rise buildings that drives them nuts.'

Duncan smiled and took his father's coat. He hung it in the living room closet.

They both went to sit down on the ivory-white sofas nestled in the center of the room, upon the thick red carpet that would have prevented the breakage of even the most delicate glass.

'Stress indeed,' continued his father. 'It's claustrophobia disguised as stress. Together with traffic jams, they exert so much pressure on the people such that the poor souls end up thinking death is the only option.'

Duncan laughed. It wasn't the first time he had heard that either.

Mr. Shelley Sr. was a man who had over the years grown accustomed to living the easy life of an aristocrat. Large, palatial mansions were his preferred choice of living. Crowded city apartments were not for him. He had even come over from Portland by his private Bombardier jet because he hated being jostled around airports. The pilot would wait for him at the airport while Mr. Shelley finished his business in New York.

'We need to talk.'

Duncan would always marvel at his father's gift to lapse from casual banter to serious talk with effortless ease.

'It's about Wayne. You see, you've got to go and get him. He's got himself lost in some small African country whose name I don't even remember.' He paused.

Duncan waited. Shelley Sr. did not like being disturbed when talking.

'I was there last month to talk some sense into him, but he can be an obstinate fool at times. Says he's carrying out his "calling". As you can see, that's utter rubbish. Yes, utter rubbish. He's destroying himself out there in Africa and he needs to come back here so that we can feed some healthy food into his body. Frankly, he was all bones when I saw him. Would've denied he was my son. Yes, would've. Your mother would certainly die if she saw him like that.'

When R. Shelley had completed his uninterrupted speech, Duncan Shelley ventured a question. 'How's Mum?'

'She's doing her best to be strong. But it's eating her up fast. Which is why I had to force myself to come to this wretched place. You see, she wants to see Wayne. Yes, see him. We're depending on you, son. We know you'll bring him back. You're the only one he'll listen to.'

Duncan was quiet.

'Now,' his father lapsed to a jovial mood. 'What good spirits can be possibly found in this place of yours to rid a man of the tensions of flying?'

'Scotch?'

'Excellent!'

* * * * *

In the evening, he was summoning his best skills to make himself a decent meal. He was playing a CD by Ricky Martin as he went about his activities, and it probably just had to be his luck that the track Livin' La Vida Loca was playing at the moment.

The door chimes cut through the music and came to his ears. He cursed loud and clear as he went to the door.

When he opened it, he was genuinely surprised to find Frances there. She had a scorcher of a smile on her face. 'Hello, Uncle Duncan.'

He blinked twice. It was a reaction caused by his surprise. 'Hi, Frances. I didn't expect you—.'

She feigned a hurt look. 'Am I not allowed to pay my best uncle a visit?'

'I meant that it's late and it's not safe for you to be crossing through the city at this time of the night.'

'In case you haven't noticed, Uncle Duncan, I'm not a kid anymore.'

He knew better than to argue with that. He looked her over.

She was dressed in a tight-fitting spaghetti-top that stopped at her navel. Below that she wore a body-hugging sand-blasted pair of blue hipsters.

When he returned his eyes to her face, she was staring at him expectantly.

'Sorry, com' on in.'

'Thank you,' she said with grudging politeness.

He closed the door and followed her into the room. She went and sat exactly at the place where his father had been sitting a few hours ago. He always found it slightly amusing that the odds were 9 to 1 that a visitor to his apartment would sit on that couch.

He chose a seat directly opposite her. 'How's college?'

'College sucks.'

'It should suck. Otherwise you wouldn't find an excuse for having fun when you're meant to be studying.'

She just smiled. Then a sudden shy look covered her eyes and she fidgeted in her seat. 'Uncle Duncan, you're beautiful. Almost like a woman. You should be in the movies.'

He didn't answer. It wasn't the first time someone had told him that.

'Mind if I smoke?'

He did. 'Go ahead. Didn't know you do.'

'Everyone I know does.'

He refrained from pointing out that he didn't.

'It's a passing phase,' she said. 'And I only smoke when I'm nervous.'

'Why should you be nervous?'

'Because I'm here alone with you.'

'Come on!' he scoffed. 'We've known each other for ages. Why should you be scared of me now?'

'Because I'm madly in love with you.'

He stared back at her and saw by the firmness of her jaw that she was totally serious.

He stood up silently and went to the kitchen to fix something to drink.

When he returned, he sensed the unmistakable acrid smell of pot filling the room. She was getting stoned right there on the sofa.

He handed her a glass of red wine and crossed to his seat opposite her. With lazy eyes she handed him the cigarette. He took it from her hand. He turned it around in his hand for a long moment, studying it seriously as if it was a work of art. It was a perfectly rolled cigarette, which could have easily passed for an ordinary one. Drug peddlers certainly weren't running out of ideas.

With a sigh, he leaned forward and crushed it to a useless bit on the ashtray.

For a moment, she stared at him with a positively bewildered look on her face, as if she was going to pounce viciously on him. Then a calm expression crept to her face and she looked away from him.

'Drugs are bad for your health,' he said to her. 'If you're feeling jumpy, drink the wine. It'll calm your nerves.'

She obeyed obsequiously and took a sip of her drink. 'Are you mad at me?'

'No,' he lied. 'Why should I be?'

For a long moment they sat in silence, pulling at their drinks from time to time, the room pregnant with rising tension.

'It's true, you know,' she said suddenly. 'You may not know it, but I've always loved you. From the moment I first saw you at our house I fell deeply in love with you.'

He got to his feet and began to pace around the room. Unconsciously, he ran a hand through his hair.

Slowly, she placed her glass on the glass table in between the couches and then stood up. She approached him at a slow pace. When she got to him, she attacked him with a violent, hungry kiss. She grated her lips against his and sucked on his tongue longingly.

He managed to break free and shoved her away. 'We can't do this,' he panted, almost in despair. 'It's wrong...let's not do something we'll both regret.'

'But I want you. I need you,' she said in desperation. 'You don't know the countless nights I've lain awake in bed wishing for you to hold me...for you to make sweet, tender love to me.' She closed the gap between them. 'You have no idea how many times I've woken up to discover myself wet after a passionate dream about you.'

She pressed herself against him and tried to kiss him again.

He pushed her away. 'No, Frances. It's not right, please.'

'I feel very strongly about you,' she pleaded. 'I know this is right. How can something that feels so right be wrong?'

'Because you're 18,' he said with renewed hope. 'That's half my age.'

She defeated his reasoning. 'Mum got married to Dad when she was 18. I really wish you can stop talking to me like I'm a child. I'm a grown woman, don't you realize that?'

He let out a troubled sigh. 'Your father is my best friend, Frances. He and I have been friends for a very long time. So much that you're like a daughter to me.'

'What's the matter?' Her voice broke. 'Don't you want me, Duncan?'

He couldn't answer that.

Slowly, defeatedly, she began to take off her blouse. In a moment it lay discarded on the carpet. Her nude breasts stood firm, full and jutting out.

He stood motionless, with his gaze transfixed on them. He had never noticed that she had matured into such a voluptuous woman with a smashing body. Unexpectedly, his body was seized by a sizzling heat of infernal lust.

'Are they real?'

'What do you think?' she said with taunting eyes and a triumphant smile on her lips.

'Girls can get them anywhere these days.'

She cupped them full in both her hands and pointed their nipples at him. 'These are genuine articles, baby.'

He reached forward with his hand and grabbed them. He dug his fingers into their flesh and pulled her closer to him. She winced in pain. He kissed her hard and longingly. She responded fiercely and fought for control with her tongue. She dropped her hand inside his shorts and searched him out. She fell to her knees before him and sucked him. 'You've a magnificent cock.'

After a while, she stood up and stepped back. She began to pull off her hipster pants, her eyes never leaving him.

He watched her, his eyes fixed on her heavy breasts. Her monstrous mammary glands swayed as she took off her pants, their pink nipples knotted and taut.

She straightened up after her brief struggle with her hipsters and stood staring at him as if unsure what to do next.

His gaze fell lower to her sensuous hips and the soft triangle between her legs. She had no pubic hair.

As if she had read his thoughts, she said, 'I shaved it, especially for you.'

She stepped forward and pasted her body to his. She had a drowsy, sexy look in her eyes. She took his hand and guided it to the soft, velvety cleft between her thighs and upon his touch, her pubic lips swelled to full ripeness.

'I want to pussy-thrash you,' she said, kissing him. 'I want to rub it all over your body so much that you'll remain smelling of me for a week.'

His lust escalated to irredeemable levels of desire. 'Get down,' he hissed.

She obeyed him like a behaved child and lay down on her back on the carpet. She watched him as he lowered his shorts and kicked them off his legs.

His shaft sprang out and stood rigid, pulsating with the fire of its desire. Its veins stood taut and prominent along its length. He came to his knees before her vital organs. She brought her knees up, anticipating his entrance into her body. Her pubic lips spread open.

A blazing heat seared at his loins. He grabbed her legs around the ankles and pushed them up and back. Impatiently, he shoved his whole length inside her.

She cried. 'Oh God! Oh my dear God!'

She was big. Very big. She swallowed him whole. It was like plunging into a pot of boiling syrup.

He thrust madly into her. Loud groans escaped his lips as he rubbed his organ inside the wetness of her vagina. She moaned helplessly and fought back the tears as the mixed pain and pleasure burned through her. Her hands knotted into tight balls by her sides. She arched her back to accommodate him more, and began to mumble incoherent things as the ecstasy of her passion increased with each of his jabs into her.

He let go of one of her legs and it dropped sideways. He grabbed her other leg with both hands and held it upright as he jabbed more and more inside her. As he felt himself coming closer to the summit of his pleasure he let go of her leg and lowered his body towards her. He planted his hands beside her shoulders as he balanced himself on top of her.

She spread her legs wide and hit her hips against his pelvis as his thrusts became more hurried.

'Oh man!' she panted out of breath. 'This is the shit! This is pure heaven!'

She began to ride the voracious tides. She became lost in the sea of pleasure so intense it took her sanity away. She felt her tide of juices rising slowly inside her, and then suddenly it was propelled out of her with a jerking movement. Her body shook with that crazy moment of climax.

Her orgasm covered his glans with oils and triggered his own climax. As he felt himself losing control, he slid his hands along her body and placed them under her buttocks. He pushed her buttocks up and pressed her groin tightly against his hips. With one final thrust, he cut deep into her and elicited a sharp gasp from her lips.

He groaned heavily and his body remained rigid, glued to hers. They lay tightly bound to each other for a long while, their bodies trembling with the effect of their fiery ecstasy.

Through a semi-conscious state, she felt his hands lazily ease their hold on her, his body became less tense and the organ inside her quickly became flaccid.

Before she could register anything else, she drifted to sleep.

* * * * *

Frances woke up some minutes before six, and Duncan thirty seconds later on account of what she was doing to him.

He opened his eyes to her smiling face. 'Good morning Duncan...um...Can I call you Duncan?'

He smiled his answer.

The light of the early morning sifted through the window and fought down the darkness in the room.

'We're in bed inside your bedroom. How did that happen?'

He felt the chill of the morning bit his flesh and pulled the blanket up to cover his head. 'I carried you here last night. You were groggy.' Not only that. He had also discovered what a big-framed girl she was.

'I love you,' she whispered. 'I want to marry you.'

That brought his head out of the blanket. 'Now you're thinking with your cunt. I'd prefer it if you used your head.'

She looked hurt. 'I mean it. I really love you. I've always loved you. Ever since I was 14 when you first came to our house.'

'That's just the sex talking. You'll feel different before the day is over.'

She sat up, her face suddenly transforming into an angry scowl. 'You're a self-conceited bastard. You wanted to lay me last night and now that you're fucked me you want to discard me like stinking trash.'

'You know that's not true. Look, last night you said I shouldn't treat you like a kid. How do you expect me to do that when you act like a child?'

She sprang from the bed. 'It's true,' she charged angrily. 'You don't wanna admit it because it's true. You're an ego-maniac self-centered sonofabitch!' she flared. 'You think you're infallible!'

'That's not true,' he said calmly. 'I thought with my dick last night.'

She opened her mouth to charge again but stopped, gathered her clothes and pulled them on furiously.

'You can't do this to me!' she said belligerently. 'I'm not through with you!' she screamed. 'You can be sure of that. You just can't do this to me.' She deflated and sobbed sorrowfully.

Then she stormed out of the house.

Chapter 17

Father Wayne Shelley, RC Church, was to be found in a small parish at a remote location in a place called Tsholotsho – his tongue had taken a lot of exercise to finally get it right – found inside a country called Zimbabwe, situated somewhere in southern Africa.

He was now living in conditions far removed from the comfortable ones back home in America. He was trapped in a grossly underdeveloped area with rough terrain and no prospects for agricultural fertility, where the only sign of technological development were rickety-clickety buses that passed through the area as rarely as they could. The living conditions were at best pathetic and at worst deplorable.

Lack of infrastructure prevented him from fulfilling his wishes and carrying out his duties effectively. And there was nothing he could do about it. Tsholotsho was to be found in the Matabeleland region, the traditional home of the Ndebele people in the south of the country. The country was run by the majority Shona, and as usually happens in such cases, Matabeleland was disadvantaged and saw fewer resources than the northern parts of the country.

It was the middle of 2001; political tension was high in the country, and White foreign nationals were regarded with a certain measure of resentment. Liberation War ex-combatants were seizing White-owned farms, and that fueled public disharmony.

His continued stay there was a risk to his life but that was the least of his worries. His superiors had placed him in this dark hole on purpose. It was something he knew. When you were from a wealthy background they were jealous of you, beginning from your first day at the seminary.

Firstly, they did their best to get you expelled. When they failed, they hated you more. Then they focused their energies on making you quit by assigning you to the worst places they could imagine. They had sent him to war-torn Rwanda with that in mind. He had survived two years of struggle with various forces of evil there. Now, they had given him this poor hell-hole. He would show them that he could take any hardship they could throw at his face just like any of them.

He had already done a lot for his parish. It was now in a better form than when he had first arrived there. He had worked diligently and with a renewed passion each day. No amount of glitches would diminish his spirit. And if the superiors of his church thought they would have the last laugh they didn't know what they were thinking about.

But he was killing himself. He got so consumed in his work that it became an obsession for him to achieve goals he knew were impossible to even achieve under fairer circumstances. And as time progressed he ate less and less as his thoughts took on a pathologically negative view of life.

He tried most of the times not to admit to himself that he hated this place. But deep inside he knew that he did. The women and children came to church to listen to him preach and called him Father. The men didn't care. He saw it in their eyes. They only smiled at him because he had skin color different from theirs, and they had an inferiority complex in his presence.

He had since stopped looking himself in the mirror for fear of reality. He knew that he had lost considerable weight over the last fifteen months. Felt that he was unhealthily thin. Knew that he was all bones.

That was what Duncan saw first.

Even though his brother tried not to stare, Wayne noticed it.

'If you've come to take me I'm not going,' he said after the pleasantries had passed. 'I can't go back with you.'

'That what I came for,' admitted Duncan.

'I can't leave,' Wayne said resolutely. 'These people need me. This place is impoverished. I've done a lot to rid them of impoverishment. I just can't leave.'

Duncan became annoyed. 'Look at yourself, Wayne,' he said forcefully. 'You're a walking skeleton. You're losing your mind, damnit! This place is killing you slowly. And what help are you giving these people when in the end you'll lose your life? Think about it. You're not proving anything by ending up dead. Heroes are for comic books.'

'Did Dad send you? Coz you speak like he did when he came here.'

'Yeah, he sent me alright. You know I cannot lie to you. Ma wants to see you. When was the last time you saw her?'

Wayne evaded that question. 'The perfect son,' he said sarcastically. 'The one who always stands up when there's a problem to be righted.'

Duncan rose to his feet and crossed the room to stand closer to the manic priest. He stared into his brother's tired eyes. 'You got no choice, Wayne. You're coming with me even if I have to gag you and put you in a strait-jacket.'

Wayne stared back at Duncan with manic eyes but didn't respond.

He got the message from Duncan's eyes. 'She's got cancer, man. Mum's dying.'

Chapter 18

Living the frugal lifestyle of a pauper certainly had some advantages to it. Aspects of which were revealed when Wayne made a splendid meal upon their return from Africa. The man produced a roast steak and vegetable dish that left Duncan thoroughly convinced that Wayne was a fantastic cook, even though the priest had a tendency to underestimate his talents.

After dinner, they indulged themselves in the delicacy of red wine. They sat at the dinner table, dozing away the fatigue of the long flight. They had had to first catch a flight from Zimbabwe to Johannesburg in South Africa, and then a British Airways plane to UK before catching their connecting flight to New York.

The doorbell disturbed the silence of the apartment.

Duncan cursed twice as he rose from his chair. One, because he was too tired to stand, let alone walk. Two, because he hated people who visited without calling first.

He swung the door open.

He would have cursed again were it not for the fact that he found Frances standing there with a dazzling smile on her face.

'Come on in,' he said in a flat tone of voice and retraced his steps back to the dining room.

She closed the door behind him and followed him. Then she paused by the door when she noticed that he was with another man she had never met.

'I'm sorry if I'm intruding. Maybe this isn't such a good time.' She turned around. 'I'll leave.'

'Sit down,' Duncan said it like a command.

She came politely to take a seat next to Duncan, opposite Wayne.

'This is my brother,' Duncan said in a slurred voice. 'Name's Wayne Shelley; he's a Catholic priest. Can you believe it? That I, Duncan Fucking Shelley, big time New York hot shit, have a brother who's a priest?' He didn't wait for anyone to reply. 'And this –little brother – is Frances. Frances Carson. Don't you love the sound of that? Frances Carson. Kid's a sweet little fucker.'

Wayne shook hands with Frances, exchanged a few smiles and words with her, then excused himself from the room.

Frances stared at Duncan. He was sitting with shoulders slumped, his eyes fixed on the full glass of wine in front of him. He sat there for a while and ignored her presence.

'I called your secretary and got your flight arrangements from her. Hope I didn't do wrong?'

He just grunted sulkily.

'You didn't tell me that you were going away,' she said quietly.

'I wasn't aware that I should've.' Then he quickly regretted saying that. He had no right to snap at her. He wished Wayne would return to the room. What the hell was taking him so long in the can? He shook his head. That action made him wince in pain. The wine was getting into his head and he was losing his coordination. Wayne was probably gone for a few seconds and here he was thinking that his brother had been gone for ages from the room.

Frances shifted noisily beside him and touched him tentatively on the shoulder. 'I missed you,' she said nervously.

'Funny you should've,' he snapped. Jesus, he was really edgy tonight!

A long silence ensured. The tension hung ominously in the room.

He raised his glass to his lips.

She coughed. And her next words made him choke on the wine.

'I'm pregnant. Now will you marry me...?'

* * * * *

He summoned all his courage and leaned on the doorbell at exactly 8.47PM. He had driven straight to the Carson residence from the hospital, where he and Wayne had spent almost the entire day with their ailing mother. She was being treated by chemotherapists at a specialist center in Manhattan. Their father had temporarily relocated to New York, and the Waldorf Astoria had become his adopted home. Duncan had left Wayne at the hospital to pray for their mother...

The door flung open and Tony Carson, his old pal, didn't give him as warm a welcome as he usually did. Duncan was reasonable enough to understand his friend's attitude towards him.

The small family of three was gathered in the living room. He started to greet them.

Tony broke in stiffly. 'Let's cut the pleasantries, Duncan. Did you really sleep with my daughter?'

Duncan summoned all his powers of sincerity. 'I'm very sorry, Tony and Carol, but it's true. It shouldn't have happened, but it did. There's no amount of words that can express my regret over what happened. It was a very shameful thing to do, and I am really sorry. I'll never forgive myself for what happened. But I swear to God I didn't get her pregnant.'

'You're lying!' Frances accused vehemently. 'You know it's yours.'

'Who's the father, Frances?' Duncan asked calmly.

'I don't believe this!' she exclaimed incredulously. 'How can you even begin to ask me that when you know you got me pregnant?'

'You know that's not true. Lying won't help anyone. For different reasons we both know that it's not mine.'

She knew that it was true. That she had done it to prove that she was a maverick just like him. That he wasn't the only one who could play by his rules.

'What're you talking about?' she flared, shifting her raging eyes from him to her parents.

'Tell them, Tony.' He was the only one who knew about Duncan's syphilis.

Tony Carson looked at his daughter with eyes full of compassion. 'Honey, Duncan cannot have children.'

Duncan never lifted his eyes from her. He noticed her vigor begin to wane. She stared at him and her confidence wilted and crumpled. 'Is...it...true?' she asked with difficulty, choking on her words.

He nodded his head silently.

She fell down on her chair and dropped her eyes to her trembling hands. Then suddenly she sprang up to him and pounced on him with angry fists. 'I hate you! I hate you!' she cried sorrowfully.

He let her pound his chest with her clenched fists and did nothing to stop her. Her blows gradually became feeble and she collapsed weakly against him.

He held her close to him as she sobbed bitterly. 'I'm sorry, Frances. I am truly sorry.'

* * * * *

The burning sensation in his groin began like a faraway feeling until it worked its chemistry into his brain and he woke up. His bladder was full, and he knew that he couldn't put off going to the bathroom until daybreak. He climbed out of bed and walked on bare feet to the bathroom. He relieved himself and then moved to the wash-basin to wash his hands.

And noticed the traces of powder. That's what betrays them. He had found traces of the white powder lining the surface of the bathroom sink that evening when he had returned with Wayne from Africa. He hadn't thought much of it then. But now he regarded it with a renewed interest. It was cocaine. No doubt about that. A taste on his tongue proved his worst fears.

Duncan straightened up and shook the sleep off his body. That other evening he had thought the wine had made him drunk and he had lost his judgment of time. But in retrospect he was realizing now that he had been right in suspecting that Wayne had taken too long in the bathroom. The priest was doing drugs in this very bathroom, right here in this very apartment.

He carefully collected the remnants of the powder onto a small plastic paper. He carried it with him and budged into Wayne's room. His noisy entrance awakened his brother. Wayne's face was dazed from sleep. Duncan approached his brother's bed and stopped by its edge with his hand outstretched towards Wayne. The priest's eyes fell on the palm of his brother's hand and saw the plastic paper with the powder.

Duncan sat down on the bed. 'What happened, Wayne?'

'I broke,' he said sorrowfully. 'I broke, Duncan. They sent me there to break me and they succeeded. I found refuge in the drugs. They masked the harsh conditions and gave me a false sense of reality. For the first time I could ignore the cries of pain surrounding me; the cries of infants, fathers and mothers broken down by the harsh, severe realities of life.'

He raised his eyes to face Duncan with a tear-filled face. 'Help me, Duncan.' His voice broke. 'Please help me,' he sobbed.

Duncan pulled Wayne's head to his chest and let him cry it all out. He stroked his brother's hair affectionately. 'Don't worry. Everything will be fine.'

* * * * *

When Duncan Shelley arrived at his apartment he headed straight for the shower. He stood under the water and let it wash away the stress and strain of the last twenty-four hours. The sorrow, the grief, the pain, the sadness was still with him.

Their mother had gone. The light of their lives would shine no more. The source of love for all of them. All four: their father, Robert Shelley; Brett; Duncan; and Wayne. A woman whom no matter what the circumstances were could always be depended upon. The only one whom they could all claim truly loved them unconditionally.

The funeral had been yesterday. A large crowd had come to pay their last respects to the woman who had been a pivotal part of the Shelley clan. Wayne had led the prayers throughout the service and brought everyone with his words. She was buried at the River View Cemetery in Portland.

After the funeral they all returned to the family home in Southwest Hills where they all spent a solemn night. Today, Duncan and Wayne had said goodbye to the others and headed back to New York. Straight from the airport, Duncan had driven Wayne to the drug rehab center, where he would stay until his discharge in November.

Presently, Duncan got out of the shower and went into the bathroom to change into some loose clothes. He chose a gray T-shirt and black sweat-pants. Then he forced himself to go into the kitchen to make himself something to eat. Food was the last thing on his mind, but he knew he had to eat. To get his energy back he had to put something in his stomach. Or else he would start drinking heavily and then he would never stop. No, he had to eat.

He fixed himself a sandwich and then opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Red Bull. He opened it and threw a quarter of it down his throat.

The door chimes reached his ear drums and awakened his numbed senses. He placed down the Red Bull and slowly, wearily, dragged his feet to the door.

When he opened it, Frances Carson was standing outside. She had a faint, embarrassed look on her face. He stared at her and said nothing. He turned around and walked back to the kitchen.

She followed slowly behind him and stopped halfway, watching him as he went to sit at the kitchen counter.

He took a swipe at his drink silently.

'I came to apologize,' she started with difficulty. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I put you through.'

'It's okay. It's already forgotten.'

'No, you don't understand. I truly am sorry. You were right. I really acted like a jerk. I never should have done those things to you.'

He didn't say anything. Just took another gulp of his drink.

She walked slowly to the counter and silently sat down on a stool next to him. For a while she sat playing with her hands, a shy look written on her face.

He stared silently at her.

'I want you to know that I have taken your advice. I've thought about all this and I've decided I'm gonna have the baby. Then I'll go back to college.'

He remained silent.

'Aren't you gonna say something?'

He shook his head quietly.

'Not even I-told-you-so?'

'No.'

'But it was your suggestion.'

'I know. And I'm glad you followed it.' He tried to smile but couldn't make it. So he drank his Red Bull instead.

She lingered a while longer but nothing came to her mind to break the silence. She stood up and walked to the door but didn't make it all the way. She placed her hand on the knob and turned around.

'Um...I...uh...Can I call you Uncle again?'

He stood up and faced her. He gulped down his drink. 'Sure, kid. You're my favorite niece, remember?'

She flashed him a worn smile.

'Come here, kid.'

She ran into his open arms and they held each other strong and hard for a long moment.

Chapter 19

He had found her.

He stood there by the side of the busy London street and looked at the rows of apartments in front of him. He knew the number he would look for when the time came. He had been quick. Faster than usual. He usually took longer to locate her. But this time it had taken him two weeks to find her exact place of residence.

He brought out a packet of peanuts from his pocket and emptied half of its contents into his mouth. He chewed greedily and clumsily. Their salty taste gave him sexual stimulation. It wouldn't be long. He would be with her soon to satisfy that need. Last night he had had a two-hour session of hot sex with a hooker he had picked from the inner city streets. It hadn't been the best sex he had ever had, but he had still screwed the hell out of her.

The whore had sagging tits that had seen plenty of action, and a loose cunt that had been ravaged by plenty of oversize penises. And she didn't even know how to suck dick properly. The frustration had made him almost strangle her to death. Had she not hit him with a steel bar he would have surely killed her.

Killed her like that bitch Robin. The whore! He had killed her many times but she still came back to torment his life. To mock him. To taunt him. To laugh at his failure. She refused to die. She wanted to always haunt him. Robin Milton was a witch and she had to die.

She kept saying she was his mother but it was a lie. She did that to get close to him and drive him crazy. She was not his mother! This time he would make no mistake. He would kill her and she would stay dead forever. Last night he had almost killed her when she invaded the hooker's body.

He touched his temple and felt the bump on his head. It felt big, and he knew it must look unsightly. He started to walk away lest he alerted the inhabitants of this neighborhood.

* * * * *

Shirley almost screamed.

The dream had begun as usual. She had descended the staircase to the basement. She had gone to her mother's bedroom when her mother was out and deliberately rummaged it for the basement key. Having found it, she had headed down there quickly before her mother's return. She unlocked the door now and entered inside. And came face to face with a young boy who could have been her age. He had terrified eyes set deep in a very pale face.

She approached him. 'Who are you?' Her soft voice echoed off the walls of the basement.

'I don't know,' the boy answered. 'She calls me Gareth.'

'Mother?'

The boy nodded. She says I do bad things.' The boy turned his face towards a small table by the corner of the room. 'Do you want to see my pictures?'

They went together to the small table and looked at the pictures. They were horrible! They were stick figures, but all of them conveyed a message of death. In all of them, a dagger piercing the chest of a woman, and drops of blood forming a pool at her feet. She didn't like them and flinched away in disgust.

'They're horrid!'

'I hate her,' the boy said in a voice thick with malice. 'That's why they're so bad. I had some good ones, but I tore them up.' He looked into her eyes. 'I like you, Jessie. I will draw good pictures of you.'

The door opened and startled both of them.

Their mother stood at the door, livid with anger. She crossed quickly to Jessie and yanked her viciously by the arm. The little girl whimpered in pain. Her mother dragged her maniacally out of the room and shut it. Then she descended on the little girl with slaps all over her body. The girl cried and brought up her arms to defend herself. She cried.

And cried. Tried to escape. Tried to run. But it was as if her feet were glued to the ground.

She screamed. She wanted to wake up, but couldn't. Her mother kept thrashing her mercilessly. Couldn't wake up!

When she eventually did she was drenched in sweat.

And her body was shaking like a leaf. She felt the cold hand of fear seize her heart and squeeze it into a small mass.

This wasn't just a dream. These were memories that had been buried deep in her psyche coming to the fold. That episode of her life her mind had repressed and blacked out was coming back to her in the form of dreams.

There was no time to lose. She had to contact Grandma.

She would get the truth from her.

* * * * *

'Why didn't you tell me you're a doctor?'

He winked at her. 'Don't let anyone else in on the secret.'

To his immense relief, Duncan Shelley had been eventually discharged from the North London Medical Centre in Notting Hill.

'Ready to go?' Nurse Kathleen "Kate" Wainwright beamed him a lovely smile.

He smiled at her. 'Ready as ever.'

He limped up to her and held on to her shoulder for support. His hand dropped lower down her back and squeezed her buttocks.

'Hey!' she cried in mock alarm. 'You're such a horny dog, Mr. Duncan Shelley.'

'I've stayed 4 weeks in this wretched and gloomy place. How do you expect me not to be turned on when I'm so close to a sexy body?'

'Men!' she snorted and walked away from him.

He tried his best on his good leg to hurry after her. And found soon enough that it was no easy task. 'Now, is that genuine British conservatism or are you putting on an act?'

At least she was kind enough to wait for him. And held out her hand to him. 'Let's go, baby.'

'Ah, she's an incurable flirt.' Duncan observed dramatically. 'Then why the nun-act when I was still bedridden?'

'You were my patient back then,' she explained with an amused smile on her face. 'There are ethics that some of us have to respect. But now that you're at the mercy of my wits...' she deliberately let her voice trail off.

Duncan stifled a laugh.

They travelled in her small Fiat through the affluent suburbs of Notting Hill and crossed the heart of London to the flat she shared with her friend.

She paused before opening the door. 'How does lunch at the Savoy strike you?'

'I'm hungry already?'

'Okay. We'll go right after I take a shower.'

'Can I join you?'

'You're such an insufferable sex maniac!' she protested light-heartedly.

'Insufferable,' he mused with a smile. 'That's a word I should add to my vocabulary.'

She didn't respond as she opened the door and entered into the apartment. He went after her and shut the door after him.

'Hello,' Kate addressed a tall woman with auburn hair.

A stranger who could not be a stranger. Duncan felt himself going dizzy.

Kate's voice sounded far off. 'Duncan, I'd like you to meet my roommate, Shirley.'

Duncan struggled to breathe and looked deep into Shirley's eyes.

It was Jessica Gauld.

Part 3

Chapter 20

There is something grand about a restaurant to be found on the Strand in London. The Savoy Grill, one of the last bastions of old school dining in London, has an unmistakable element of dignity that has something to do with its regular diners. The restaurant, first opened in 1889, is known to certain sections of society as the second House of Lords and to some in the city as "the canteen".

In the spring of 2002, the Savoy Grill was closed for two months as it went under a major transformation under the auspices of Marcus Wareing, a young protégé of the chef Gordon Ramsay. This change, described by some sections of the media as the most "dramatic" in the restaurant's history, sought to make the Savoy live and exciting without compromising its reputation. And a rich history did the Savoy have.

Sir Winston Churchill would always sit at table 4. When he died it was left empty for a year as a mark of respect. The Queen Mother would waltz into the dining room and go over to greet Noel Coward with a kiss. Later regulars have included Sir Sean Connery, Lord Attenborough and the tycoon Lord Hanson. Sir Denis – who liked the haddock or fish cakes – and Lady Thatcher were frequent diners at table 34. This table was also a favorite of the novelist Sir Jeffrey Archer, before he was otherwise engaged for involvement in somewhat unwise actions.

We were not part of British high society, so we were given a table of a lesser prestige. I stared for a long moment at the woman sitting opposite me. She was dressed in an elegant black dress cut at the sleeves. She wore a white pearl necklace around her neck. A soft, delicate neck that was a joy to behold. Her face was lovely; emerald green eyes with black, healthy lashes. Her bushy eyebrows were still as I remembered them. She had not tempered with their natural appearance like so many women are loft to do. Her lips were covered with a trace of red lipstick that made them look faintly moist and succulent. Other than the lipstick, there was little suggestion of make-up on her face.

I could tell she had a firm bust, the mark of a woman who had matured gracefully. In front of me was a woman I had known in another lifetime.

I stared at her for a long moment and fought the growing impulse to lean over and kiss her. She had that kind of beauty that makes a man want to hold her and possess her to himself. I felt privileged to be sitting there, sharing a table with her and getting her undivided attention. And her name was Jessica Gauld. To me, she would always remain Gauld.

I broke into a smile of happiness. 'You're beautiful.'

She spoke in a beautiful-sounding voice. 'Thank you.'

I raised my glass of red wine forward. 'A toast. To our infinite health.'

She clinked her glass against mine and we sipped from our respective glasses. She placed her glass back on the table carefully.

I did the same. 'How was Kate going to pay for all of this?'

'Kathleen has her ways,' Jessica responded with a knowing smile.

'Do you think she minds?'

'That I came with you instead of her?' She went on before I could respond. 'No, she understands. I spoke to her and she knows our little childhood story now.'

'I hope you didn't tell her everything,' I said naughtily.

She didn't miss the innuendo. 'No, I just told her the essential parts. A very summarized version of our story.'

'Jesus!' I exclaimed quietly. 'Here we are, together again after such a long time, and I don't know what to say. There are so many things I want to say and ask that I don't even know where to begin.'

'Maybe I can tell you about the name change?' she suggested.

I shook my head slightly. 'That will spoil our dinner. It will come later. Tell me about what you do?'

'I did this 'n' that for a number of years. Then I delved into politics five years ago. I work for a successful agency here in London. I'm what they euphemistically call a campaign strategist this side of the ocean. In truth, we are heartless spin-doctors – with no regard for anything else other than the main objective.'

'Sounds like you don't like it that much.'

'It's okay; pays the bills,' she replied. 'And I get to meet a lot of people who grant me favors once in a while.'

'And get to make a lot of money in the process,' I observed. 'Though I have to say I wonder why you have to share a place with Kate if you do.'

'Staying with Kathleen saves me a few hundred pounds. Then I can take longer holidays and spoil myself with some luxuries like the MG you're so eager to drive.'

And I still had my intentions to get a feel of her coupé as soon as my leg was fully operational.

'And you, Duncan, what do you do?' She frowned at me for a fraction of a second. 'I gather from Kathleen you were given the treatment deserving of a royal prince at the hospital.'

'That could be due to two reasons; firstly, I started off doing some things before today. One was being a doctor for a number of tiresome years. Which is why I might or might not have been a distinguished guest at the hospital.'

She grinned at that.

'Reason Number Two is that I happen to be in the unenviable position of being a wealthy man's son.'

This time she laughed. 'And no doubt wealthy yourself.'

'If you can call it that,' I answered. 'I run the New York operation of my father's company.'

'How's it?' she asked with real interest in her eyes.

'It's okay. Allows me to live a crazy and irresponsible life.'

She turned her attention to her food for a while, feasting on the tasty fillets with gusto. After the foie gras and duck terrine, she devoured the roasted duck and potatoes, eating with the grace of a trainee surgeon. A woman who ate like that ought to gain hideous weight, yet she was slender of frame. It made me wonder how she managed to keep her figure so trim.

'Look at him,' she addressed my face for the first time in a long moment, 'he used to tell me that he wanted to make big money in life, and he's doing that. I said I wanted to ride horses for a living. Which one of us has been loyal to their dreams?'

'Maybe in our own individual ways we both finally discovered what we really wanted to do in life.'

'Are you happy?' she quizzed with a sudden serious expression.

'I've been okay. Although I sometimes think I would have enjoyed life better if I hadn't lost touch with you.'

'Don't get emotional. I'm supposed to be the sentimental one.'

'Since when?'

'Since I stopped being a country girl who rode horses and became exposed to the harsh realities of life.'

I leaned back on my chair and looked intensely into the pupils of her eyes. Something passed between our eyes and I didn't miss it. 'Now, the big crunch. Why the name change?'

She sighed deeply and was silent for a long moment before answering. I saw the pain cloud the pupils of her eyes and my heart went out to her. 'I've been harassed by a stalker for most of my adult life. I really shouldn't dignify him with that name because he is actually a killer. I've had near-fatal attacks from this crazed lunatic so much that my grandmother and I have had to shift places several times to get away from him. The last attempt at my life was so frightening that we had to leave the States altogether and relocate here. Followed by a name change and a job switch so as to appear to have disappeared from the surface of the earth. That was five years ago. My life's been peaceful since.'

I squeezed her hand comfortingly and tried a smile of encouragement.

'But I've been having these dreams. They're so frightening...I see his face, and then everything gets murky and I mix it up with childhood memories. It all doesn't make sense. I'm beginning to fear that maybe he has found me after all this long.'

'Many years have passed,' I said gently, taking her hand inside mine. 'Anything could've happened to this maniac. You think he'd be that relentless?'

'You don't know this madman, Duncan. He'd stop at nothing to find me. I've seen his fiery eyes; I've smelled his bad breath close to my skin; he has laid his filthy hands on me and tried to rape me. And I know how terrifying that can be.'

I felt her hand begin to tremble inside mine. She knotted it into a tight ball. 'What makes me mad is that the law turns a blind eye to my case. This madman has terrorized me for an eternity; he has come close to killing me three times, yet they can't keep him locked away. Some legal technicalities set him free, and I have to live like a caged mouse.'

'I'm sorry, Jessica,' I said meaningfully. 'I had no idea it was as big as that.'

Her weak smile wasn't the best she could create.

'I'm going to the country later today to pay a visit to Grandma,' she said moments later. 'There are some answers I need from her.'

'Want me to come along?'

'You won't pass up a chance to drive my car, will you?'

* * * * *

The drive to the country-house near Oxford took seventy-five minutes. During that time, I understood why the MG was one of the UK's best-selling roadsters. The car handled well along the road. Never mind that the English drive on the wrong side of the road.

Jessica's grandma was a seventish-years-old woman who exuded charisma and bubbling energy. We found her busy making an earthenware jar at the pottery in a warehouse she had converted to her art studio. I have to admit that I was quite taken by the old lady's talent.

After the preliminary introductory exchanges, she washed her hands at the washbasin by the corner of the room before inviting us into the main house. The house was a gallery of the finest objects of African and Arabic art. I looked around the living room appreciatively and got lost in the beauty of it all.

Jessica did not waste time. 'Grandma,' she started. 'I've some issues troubling me and I would like you to please be honest with me.'

The old lady's cheerful expression didn't change. 'I'll try.'

'This man...this thug...who's been stalking me. I've been having bad dreams about him and somehow I can't help feeling that he's connected with my childhood.'

The old woman's face remained the same. 'That beast is a criminal, dear. He's—.'

The granddaughter interrupted in an exasperated voice. 'He's got me confused with somebody else. I've heard that a thousand times. But how do you explain the fact that he keeps calling me Robin?'

The old lady wouldn't have been a good poker player after all. I noticed her mouth twirl for a second.

'Is it a coincidence that my mother's name was Robin?' fired Jessica. She was getting angry and couldn't hide it. 'Answer that, Mrs. Gauld. And, incidentally, how do you explain that I share the same surname with my dead mother? What happened to my father? I've always believed you, Grandma, because I trust you as the only parent I have. But I think it's time you justified my faith in you. And while you're at it, please be kind enough as to tell me what really happened to my mother.'

'I'm sorry Jess—.'

'I don't want apologies, Grandma!' exploded Jessica. 'I want answers!'

'I don't know what answers you want me to give you. We've dealt with this before, and I told you that your mother died peacefully in her sleep when you were a child. As for that criminal, he's a diseased psychopath who is not connected to your childhood.'

Jessica went into an apoplectic fit and stared at her grandmother. Then abruptly she stood up and went for the door. 'Let's go, Duncan,' she said lividly.

She didn't get far.

'Sit down!' The whip-like command came from the old woman.

Jessica paused a moment and continued walking to the door.

'I said sit down, Jessica.' This time it was said with less vehemence but the authority in the voice was there alright.

I sat there and felt like an intruder. The only thing I could do at the moment was watch Jessica Gauld as she came back to her seat.

'As you know,' Mrs. Gauld began, 'your grandfather – my husband – was a very rich man. We lived in an upscale neighborhood in Dallas. We were surrounded by snobbish high society. Robin was an only child, the pride of her father and I. it was a great disappointment to us, especially her father, who had big plans for his daughter, when Robin got pregnant out of wedlock at age 22. You must understand that within the community where we lived that was something that was immensely frowned upon. Even more so when Robin's lover had been a repair-man with no fixed occupation. Whatever drove her to such a person has remained a mystery even after all these years.'

She swallowed hard and was silent for some time before going on. 'She was crazy about this man of hers. But he broke her heart when he disappeared after she broke to him the news of her pregnancy. It shattered her. To be betrayed by a man she loved dearly, whom she had hoped to spend the rest of her life with, was a bombshell to my dear Robin. She almost had a nervous breakdown, and almost lost her pregnancy. I guess after that she discovered how cruel the world can be. Her father would say: "Robin is naïve, that's her problem. My daughter graduated with a first-class degree from Vassar, but she doesn't know anything about life. Life is not learned through books".

'You might accuse him of being insensitive, but he loved his daughter more than anything in the world. He could look at it with a detached view because over the years he had been hardened by the cruelty of the business world. He was a ruthless businessman and had learned to suppress his feelings when he needed objectivity. You must understand that his daughter's ordeal ate upon him. He didn't talk about it, but I knew that it was hurting him to see her in pain like that. We had been married years and there was nothing he could hide from me.'

Mrs. Gauld stopped talking and signaled a jar of water on a tray on top of a table across the room. I went across the room and poured some water into a glass and brought it to her.

She took a sip before continuing with her monologue. 'Your mother gave birth to twins. A boy and a girl. Soon after that she withdrew all the money in her trust fund that her father had kept active ever since she had been a child. She used some of the money to buy a small farm in a sleepy community somewhere in the Texas countryside. Running away from shame, she started a new life there. She estranged herself from us and banished me and her father from visiting or calling her. She actually said there was no point in us trying to communicate.

'It was eight years before I again saw my beloved Robin. She was a caricature of dereliction. She had aged rapidly for her age. I could tell she wasn't well, but I was not to learn how mentally ill she was until something tragic happened. Her children seemed to be doing fine. I saw them only occasionally as most of the times I would be told they were at school. I never thought much about it the, but now when I reflect on it I seem not to remember meeting the children together. I would see only the girl on one occasion and on another see the boy when the girl wasn't there. Robin explained it as the twins not getting along with one another.

'My occasional visits stopped when the twins were thirteen after Shannon had thrown temper tantrum and expressed her wishes not to see me again in her life. Three years later she was killed with a knife by her own son.' Mrs. Gauld looked at Jessica. 'You were at school, and by the time you returned home in the afternoon the police had already informed me and your grandfather. We took custody of you from then on and thought it safe to tell you that your Mom had been taken by the Lord in her sleep.'

She paused and took another sip of the water. 'It would later emerge that your mother's mental illness had been deeper than we thought. She had sought to revenge the sins of the father upon the son. She hated her son so much that she kept him locked away in a basement all the time, only letting him out when you, Jessica, was away. I don't know how long she was hoping to keep her secret; a child psychologist suggested that she might have been physically abusing her son over the years, so much that in the end the poor child thought the best way to escape was to kill her. The son was never found after the tragic incident.'

Jessica's anger of a few moments ago had subsided. In its place was now a look between shock and consternation. 'What're you saying, Grandma?' she asked in a quavering voice. 'That he's my brother?'

'I'm saying that he's your twin-brother,' answered Mrs. Gauld. 'And he's a diseased cold-blooded murderer.'

'Well,' exclaimed Jessica incredulously. 'You certainly are taking an unconcerned position.'

'Look, I don't want to sound like a sardonic harridan. But I've never really known him, and it is hard for me to begin to develop kind feelings for him now.'

I thought it was a good time to venture the only question on my mind. 'What's his name?'

'Gareth,' replied Mrs. Gauld. 'It figures, because that was the name of Robin's lover. But the young Gareth I saw many years ago is now grown up and goes by the name of John Grimshaw,' she explained just as I was about to ask the question. 'We learnt that when he was first caught for an assault on Jessica. That first time he was charged and sentenced to 2 months in jail. I knew from first sight that this was my grandson, Gareth, who I had occasionally seen when he was a child. He didn't recognize me, because it's easier to forget childhood memories than those of an older age. And because my husband and I had decided a long time previously to let sleeping dogs lie, we didn't want to bring back the pain of Robin's gruesome death all over again. John Grimshaw had to remain a thug who had randomly pounced on an unfortunate Jessica.'

I committed John Grimshaw's name to memory.

'He must have really hated her,' Jessica spoke to no one in particular. 'Each time he attacks me he keeps mentioning her name like it's a demon's. It's like he's possessed by an evil spirit that won't let go of him.'

Tears filled her eyes. They lingered there for a little while and then rolled down her face. Suddenly, she ran to her mother and cried at the old lady's lap. Her grandmother held her firm and they both became one in their sorrow.

I got up and silently slipped out of the room.

Chapter 21

My chest was on fire. The thermal wave rose higher and set my inner organs alight. My intestines rose and went up and jammed my chest. My lungs were constricted. I labored to catch a breath of air. My thighs couldn't take the torment any longer. I closed my eyes and tried to trudge on.

And the next time I opened them I was on the ground on all fours. I retched and threw up some of last night's dinner. Man, I was out of shape. I don't believe I'd made even 200 yards. And there I was on the ground – flat out.

It had started when I opened the window of the room assigned to me. I had stood there, feeling the gentle breeze of the salubrious morning air. It was then that I had decided to take a jog. It would strengthen my ligaments and aid the recuperation of my leg.

Now, I understood why the experts recommended starting with light exercises of the body if you've been out of action for a long while. Then after that you gradually increase the exertions on your body. Starting off with an Olympic sprint was definitely ill-advised.

'Fancy meeting you here, Duncan!'

A voice belonging to someone whom I didn't want to see me in my current incapacitated condition. I struggled back up to my feet.

Jessica had an amused look on her face. And to make it worse she kept pumping her legs up and down in a jogging motion on her spot. White mist intermittently sprang forth from her lips.

'You been in England too long, girl. Even the dour English sense of humor has rubbed off on you.'

'Oh, cheeky, are we today?' She seemed to be enjoying herself. 'You're only saying that 'cause I found you whining like a wimp on the ground.'

'If you keep talking like that you'll force me to whip your ass.'

She laughed at that and stopped her jumping. She sat down on the dewy grass and brought up her knees level with her chest. 'Lend a hand?'

I crouched down and held her feet to the ground. She clasped her hands behind her head and hit the grass with her back, coming up almost immediately her back came into contact with the wet grass. She did twenty sit-ups like this before taking a rest.

'And there I was, wondering how you maintain your fine figure.'

'It's...elementary...my...dear...Duncan,' she said in between short gasps.

'Quoting English texts, are we now?' I mocked with a raised eyebrow.

'Hey, what've you got against the English?' she protested light-heartedly, sitting up.

'Nothing. Nothing at all. But I do have something against an all-American girl like Jessica Gauld going English on me. Must be the shit you've been eating here. I ought to take you back with me and fill your body with some good ol' American food.'

It made her laugh hilariously. She held up her hand to me. I took it and pulled her up to her feet.

I turned serious. 'You gonna be okay?' I hated bringing it up, but I still cared about her.

'Yeah, I'm coping,' she said with a pensive look. 'It's sad. You know, Grandma says no one in that country community in Texas knew she had two children. They only knew me. I don't know how she was planning to keep her secret. And to think I only spoke to him – my brother – only once. When I was eight I found the keys to the basement and we spoke for a while before Mother returned. She hit me very hard for having done that. I used to think I had imagined all that. Yet it's true. How could she do such a bad thing? Why didn't she just give him up for adoption if she didn't want him?' She gazed into my eyes. 'Duncan, what happens to someone for them to do such a callous thing?'

'Life is tough,' I offered. 'And we can't all handle it the same way.'

The pensive look returned to her eyes. 'How did he become John Grimshaw? Where did he get the papers?'

'Easy. All he had to do was prove that he was an orphan and that his papers got lost somewhere in a fire or such like. Finds jobs as a laborer at farms on in the firms to keep going financially.'

Jessica looked away. She sighed aloud. 'Life can be one big shit,' she said softly.

'You need to run the shit out of your system,' I advised. 'Running is an effective way to deal with anger.'

She did five squats before answering. 'You wanna take me up on it?' She was already three feet away.

'Hey! That's cheating!' I yelled as I ran – no, tried to run – after her towards the house.

To breakfast.

* * * * *

'Take the statue with you, dear. I gave it to you a long time ago. I don't know why you keep forgetting it.'

The object in question was a small sculpture measuring about ten by five inches. Made of soft-stone, it depicted the torso of a man. I had been told earlier that it was a caricature of Jessica's grandfather.

'The thing's heavy, Gran'ma. But today I have someone with strong muscles,' she said, casting a mischievous look at me.

The statue was thrust into my unprepared hands and I almost dropped it. Jessica was right. It was heavy. Could have weighed ten pounds. I turned it around in my hands and studied it carefully. 'Did you make it?'

'Ha! These old hands wouldn't take on such a painstaking job. Roger had it made for him when he went on a trip to the Victoria Falls.'

She came closer and bent down. She peered deeply into the statue and wiped something invisible from the forehead. 'My dear Roger,' she said, stroking it affectionately with her thumb as if the man was still alive. 'Gone eight years now. Told you to take a break from your business. Now see what you did to yourself.' She straightened her back and gazed up at me. 'My poor Roger had a stroke followed by a fatal heart seizure.'

I touched her shoulder. 'Please accept my condolences, ma'am.'

'You're kind, young man,' she said. 'I've learned to cope without him.'

I smiled at her. Strong woman she was.

She turned to Jessica. 'Take good care of it. And—.'

'And polish it regularly,' the younger woman finished for her with a smile. 'I promise I will.'

Jessica came closer and leaned forward to kiss her grandmother's cheek. 'See you, Grandma.'

'Goodbye, Mrs. Gauld,'said I.

The old lady probably couldn't resist the temptation. 'Now, are you two just friends like you say?' She looked from me to Jessica with a mischievous squint of her eyes. 'Or is there something you're not telling me?'

'No, Grandma,' responded her granddaughter. 'We're childhood friends.'

'Okay, you two,' she said cheerfully. 'Off you go. Don't let me hold you.'

After some more hugs and kisses between the two relatives we eventually left the comfort of the adorable Mrs. Gauld's home. We left around 11am. I locked Mr. Roger Gauld in the trunk – boot, as they call it over there – before I settled myself in the wheel to drive the long way back to the metropolitan city of London.

Along the way, Jessica didn't speak much. Just lay back in her seat and stared in front of her with glazed eyes. I concentrated my attention on my driving and tried to enjoy it. A few miles after we turned onto the highway she leaned forward and played around with some buttons on the sound system.

Delightful melody filled the inside of the car. It didn't take me long to recognize the inimitable voice of Whitney Houston. With my left hand, I grabbed the CD cover from the dashboard and briefly studied it. It was Houston alright. Her album My Love Is Your Love. The song currently playing was Get It Back.

Jessica's head was resting back on her seat and her eyes were closed. Her right hand was tapping against her knee to the rhythm of the music.

I tried to strike some conversation. 'Show me someone who can sing so soulfully like this today and I'll give you a billion bucks. Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston, Celine Dion. You just can't find voices like that anymore.'

'I thought all men were crazy about Christina Aguilera.'

'Nah. She can never hold a live show like Mariah used to. All these kids of today have sultry looks but they lack the vital element: stage presence. They're all just evanescent manufactured acts with no talent, shrinking into oblivion as soon as their looks go.'

She opened her eyes. 'You sound passionate about it,' she observed curiously.

'I love music, man. And I know talent when I hear it.' I shook my head ruefully. 'Tracy Chapman, Faith Hill, Sade. They don't make them like that anymore.'

She teased, 'Maybe I should turn off the radio. You're turning soft on me.'

I laughed.

From the corner of my eyes I saw her run a hand through her hair. I changed the music to Track № 4: When You Believe, a duet Whitney did with Mariah Carey.

We both fell silent as the music played. A melancholic mood descended into the car.

'I want to consult a shrink about this...' she said after some time. 'I won't be seeking treatment. I would like to get some answers on the behavior of...of...you know...'

'John Grimshaw.'

She turned sideways to face me. 'Would it be asking too much if I requested you to accompany me?'

'Don't be silly. You know I would anytime.'

'Thanks,' she said seriously. 'I'll ask Kathleen to help. She should know some shrinks.'

'You always call her Kathleen,' I remarked innocuously.

'Yeah. Somehow "Kate" sounds childish to me.'

I chuckled.

We didn't say much after that. We sped along the highway and finished the rest of the way in contemplative moods. I don't have any idea what she was thinking about, but I cannot repudiate the fact that my cogitative faculties were engaged in a vigorous analysis of the possibilities of our mutual eclectic concupiscence.

I was still in that state of meditation even as I pulled the car into the parking lot of our destination. I got out of the car, came around it and opened the trunk – boot! – and lifted the small statue of Mr. Roger Gauld. Again I underestimated its weight and almost dropped it. Can't imagine what Jessica would've done to me if that had happened. I closed the trunk and went round the car to join her as we went into the building of apartments. Roger was held firm in my hands as we went up inside the elevator to the 12th floor.

I walked behind her in the lobby as we approached the door. She tried it open but it was locked. I leaned against the wall and feigned a bored look as she searched for her keys in her purse. She eventually got the door open and went inside.

I dragged myself lazily to the door. Her shrill scream hit my eardrums and froze me for a second and froze me for a second. Then I was catapulted into a series of automatic actions. I flew myself into the room and a large figure suddenly sprang up in front of me. A big man with his back to me, his shoulders hunched as he embraced Jessica in a bear hug.

It was an embrace of death. I knew it. Sensed it in my blood.

I gripped the statue tightly in my hands and propelled myself forward. I crashed it square between his shoulder blades. The beast didn't go down. He turned around with a scowl of menace. The knife at Jessica's throat came into sight. He flicked her aside and she reeled to the floor. I looked at her briefly and then brought my eyes back to the beast approaching me. He was a real giant. Perhaps 7 foot 1. And he had a dangerous knife in his hand.

His right hand went up sideways and I ducked. I felt the knife slice through my shoulder even before the pain shot through my body. A blazing inferno of rage started deep inside me and rose to engulf my whole being. The maniac had attacked Jessica. And now he wanted to take my own life. The cold fear that had momentarily numbed me was replaced by a wave of pure hatred. I wanted to hurt him badly. I wanted to kill this animal.

I saw him come again towards me. Thoughtlessly, I lashed my right hand forward and it connected with his crotch. I heard him groan as my heel crashed into his privates. He doubled over.

My fingers circled around the statue as I quickly brought it below his face. I struck up with all my might and hit his face. He reeled over and backwards. He lay flat and unconscious on his back. I dropped to my knees beside him and lifted the statue high above my head. I wanted to crush this animal's head and paste it onto the floor. My hands descended...

A loud scream brought me back to my senses.

'Stop!' Jessica screamed. 'He's my brother!'

Chapter 22

The best airlines in the world always have flight attendants of a certain caliber. It must be a clever marketing strategy. Is it just me or all air hostesses wear uniforms that tantalize the senses and let the imagination run wild? I was looking at one right now, who was attending to me. She had these long, sexy legs that I found irresistible. She was hot, young and was giving me the signals. With figures like that, business couldn't go down at the airline.

I was flying to Florida. Jessica and I had been to a child shrink and he had told us what we had already surmised as possibilities. That Jessica's brother must have been treated with intolerable cruelty and it must have culminated in his going insane. The doctor said it was possible Gareth – John Grimshaw – was haunted by an imaginary demon of his mother. Since Jessica was a spitting image of their mother, he thought she kept reawakening from the dead. He was obsessed with putting a final end to her life.

After knocking him unconscious the previous day, I had tied his limbs with a rope while Jessica called the police.

I shook those memories out of my head and refocused my attention on this lovely creature by my side. It had been a month since I had last had action. I wanted to get laid. Like mad. And this looked like a good place to start. 'Nice name. Shannon Milton. Sort of rhymes, don't you think?'

'Thank you, sir,' she answered with a smile.

I touched her hand as she was about to go. 'Hey, I know a good place where we can go once we land.'

'And do what?' she quizzed with a little touch of curiosity.

'Maybe get to know each other.'

'Sorry, can't do that.' She raised her hand and purposely touched her chin. And her message hit home. Bang around her middle finger was a ring.

Hell. 'Maybe we could try drinks. No strings attached.'

'I don't think I'd manage.' She frowned pensively for a moment and then said words I wanted to hear. 'Well...why not?'

She gave me her hotel number and left. I watched her, thinking that women don't walk like that unless they want a guy's attention.

I shrugged inwardly. And braced myself for the descent into paradise. Florida is a city of palm trees, beautiful people and sexy cars. It is only fitting to get a rental car that will suit the status of the people you are visiting. I did exactly that, getting an Aston Martin DB7.

I revved the powerful engine of the Aston Martin and cruised to the tree-lined estates of Manalapan. I broke off the highway and turned onto a paved driveway to my right. I brought the car to a halt in front of the big steel gates of a large estate. The big lettered sign on them said:

NO INTRUDERS. TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED.

I laughed inside. Knowing the owner, the intruder would probably be shot before he even had a chance to be taken to a police station.

I knew there were concealed cameras inside the massive concrete pillars on each side of the gate. I buzzed the intercom. A voice came through a second later. I identified myself and we exchanged a few words with the faceless voice. Everyone coming into Uncle Gio's mansion had to have an access code before admission was granted. You called prior to your visit and the security personnel arranged a code for you. Each time you paid a visit, the code changed. Stringent rules for stringent fellows.

The massive, tall gate slid open and I drove through into the palm-lined driveway. I parked my car under an empty car shed and got out. No one was in sight. I made my way to the large, double door entrance, my small suitcase in my hand.

At the door I was stopped by a mean-looking guard with an uncompromising scowl on his face. He had a gun inside his shoulder holster. He ran a scanner all over my body.

'Sorry we have to do this, sir,' he said when he was through. 'It's for your security.'

My ass! It was for the safety of their boss. These guys sure took their job seriously. And then explained it as concern for your security on the premise that if you brought a firearm into the house you might inadvertently get killed with your own weapon by an intruder.

Uncle Gio sure didn't take his life lightly. He probably had enough manpower to start his own private army. In addition, top-notch technology was used to protect his luxurious lifestyle.

I was informed by the butler that the owner of the house was out at the moment, but would Mr. Shelley please be kind as to go to his assigned quarters and perhaps have a warm shower and enjoy the warm hospitality of Grace du Fleur?

I took that advice, and shortly I was spoiled with an abundance of delicious food that ended with fresh grapes for dessert.

Two hours later dusk enveloped the atmosphere. I was getting bored with waiting for Uncle Gio, so I decided to take the Aston Martin for a spin and go check out Florida nightlife.

* * * * *

'Looking for some action?'

She almost jumped off her seat.

'What are you doing here?' she asked in a genuinely startled voice.

'Shouldn't I be the one asking that?'

'No. I am at my hotel, and if anyone must be giving an answer it should be you.'

'I was going around town, looking for some action, and frankly didn't expect to see you in a hotel bar.'

She ran a finger around the rim of her glass. A hint of a smile was at the corners of her mouth. 'Oh?'

'Somehow you gave me the impression that you were not the sort of girl to go drinking in public places.'

'What would you rather I'd be doing?' she asked, her smile widening.

'Maybe taking a walk on the beach with a lonely guy?'

'Is that your way of asking, Mr...?'

'Shelley. Duncan Shelley.'

'Are you asking me to take a walk on the beach with you, Mr. Shelley?'

'I guess I am.'

She took a pull at her drink and eyed me suspiciously. 'I've never known anyone who went to so much trouble just so he could talk to a girl.'

I stared at her and forgot what I had wanted to say. Just kept staring at her.

'What?'

'Sorry. For a moment there you reminded me of someone I used to know.'

She flushed a little. 'I've heard that line a million times before, and I don't buy it.'

'No, no, I'm serious. There was someone I knew who sometimes spoke in the same manner you did when annoyed. I swear it's true.'

'Okay,' she said, sliding off her stool. 'Looks like you won't leave me alone, so let's go, Duncan...It's Duncan, right?'

I nodded. 'Yeah. Let's go.'

She was wearing one of those bra-like tops that end where her chest ends, leaving her magnificent abs bare. She had a floral see-through sash tied around her waist.

I ran my eyes all over her and couldn't control myself. 'Shit.'

She just stared at me and walked away.

I treated her like a lady and opened the car door for her, then drove a little distance to the beach. We left the car and walked on the sand towards the shoreline.

'You still remember my name?'

'How could I forget, Shannon?'

'That's the first time you've used it this evening.'

'I've a habit of not using people's names often. Should kick it, really.'

She faced the sea and took a deep breath. Gracefully, she spun around on her feet and laughed melodiously. 'It's a beautiful night, isn't it?'

'It's great. And I'm here alone with you.'

She ignored the insinuation. 'There's this crazy fantasy of mine that I've always wanted to do.'

'Maybe it's my lucky day after all.'

'No. We are just taking a walk, that's all. Alright?'

'Yeah, sure, okay.'

She pulled off her top and paused before going for her bikini top. 'I want you to understand that I'm only doing this because you're here with me. I would never do such a thing in broad daylight.'

'Honestly?'

'I never tell a lie, Mister.' She sounded offended. 'I'm a Catholic girl with good morals.'

'I believe you.'

'Are you Catholic too?'

'I know some people close to me who are. I guess that makes me one too.'

'Good, we got something in common,' she said decisively. 'Now, can we go swim?'

She unclasped her brassiere and took it off. Next went her sash. She stood there facing me, her breasts swollen like balloons. Their white satin skin began to form goose bumps. Her pink knobs of tits hardened and knotted as the cool breeze hit them. This girl had full-size, wide hips that would have taken any man any day. She was cute. A real fire-licking, acid-breathing seductress. A red thong-bikini was buried deep between her ass cheeks.

She kicked off her sandals and sprinted towards the water. She dived into the water with a scream of delight.

I quickly took off my shirt and kicked off my shoes, frantically pulling off my trousers at the same time. Then I placed all our clothes in one heap on the sand.

I ran after her into the water. When I got there I couldn't see her. Her head surfaced seconds later, laughing excitedly. We played like kids in the water for a while before we swam back to shore. I could feel my bones protesting after the exercise.

Miss Shannon Milton took my hand as we walked along the shoreline, waves intermittently coming to splash on our bare feet.

'How wrong a man can be,' I mused aloud. 'She doesn't want to do the dirty with me. Yet in the plane she was giving me the signals.'

'Signals?' she asked incredulously. 'Why do men always take a woman's kindness for sexual invitation?'

I stared at her round, firm tits, water dripping off them, and a surge of fire began at my loins. 'Why did you come for a walk with me if you didn't wanna lay me?'

'Because I'm attracted to you.'

It was a surprise. 'Really?'

'On first encounter, women look at the body of a man and then look at his face. Men look at a woman's face first and then look at her body.'

'Is that true?'

'It must be,' she said. 'It's coming from me.'

'So what exactly are you saying?'

'I'm saying maybe...just maybe...if I wasn't attached I would consider the possibility of us starting a relationship. But I'm engaged to someone very special to me and I cannot be disloyal to him. I know he loves me, and I love him too.'

The power of rejection has the crushing effect of a sledgehammer. I think it left me breathless. 'Aren't you afraid of being here alone with me? I mean, you hardly know me.'

'Thugs don't travel first class, Mister,' she replied simply.

'Why do women always use such analytical crap?'

'Because we read magazines more critically than you do. Men don't look for anything beyond pictures. Which is why most of them are hooked on Playboy.'

'That's actually a good idea. I should get myself a copy right now.'

'Why? Because you can't have me?'

'Because I want to get laid, damnit!' Because I was strolling hand in hand with her in the moonlight on the beach. Because she was naked close to me. Because it felt good to be with her like that. Because it was just good to be with her like that.

I stopped and looked her over again. 'Shit!'

'That's the second time you've said that this evening. Why're you upset?'

I stopped walking and turned my gaze towards the sea. I was silent for a long moment before answering her. 'Because I'm here with this gorgeous girl and I have her all to myself and I'm having the time of my life with her. She has the most beautiful breasts I've ever seen. But I cannot have her. And she's a good kid. She's a really good kid.'

'Thank you for telling me that.' Her tone of voice told me she meant it.

She turned me gently towards her and gave me a strong hug, her naked breasts pressed against my bare chest.

'It's my first time,' I whispered in her ear.

She let go and stared at me with a curious expression.

'It's the first time for me to hold a naked girl in my arms and not go further to have sex with her.'

She didn't talk.

I let out a dry laugh. 'I guess I can't win them all, can I?'

'I guess not,' was all she offered quietly.

A lump rose to my throat. I turned away from her and gazed far away into the dark horizon of the sea.

'Talk about it,' her voice said softly behind me. 'I'm willing to listen.'

I couldn't find my voce.

'Earlier you said I reminded you of someone. Was she someone special to you?'

I just nodded.

'What happened, Duncan?' she prodded tentatively.

'She died.' My voice sounded like a croak. 'Accident.'

She touched my hand and squeezed it compassionately. 'I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.'

I gazed into her eyes and saw the sympathy they held for me. She started moving backwards and stretched her hand towards me. I took it and we walked back to where we had left our clothes.

It was when I was dropping her off at the hotel that we once again spoke. 'Hey, Duncan, I wish you a good life. I hope you find someone special. I'll be praying for you. Take good care of yourself.'

'Yeah.'

'No, I mean that,' Shannon said seriously. 'I'm not making an empty statement. Take very good care of yourself.' She opened the door and got out of the car. 'Gotta go. Have to call my fiancé.'

'Tell him I said he's a very lucky man.'

She closed the door and leaned down. 'He'd probably never talk to me again if I told him about you,' she said with an infectious smile.

I smiled back at her. 'Then tell him to take good care of you. Coz if he won't, he'll lose you.'

'Goodbye, Duncan.'

'Bye, Miss Shannon.'

I sat there in the car and watched her walk away until she disappeared into the hotel.

SHIT!

Chapter 23

Listed in the August 22 issue of Forbes magazine as one of the ten most expensive houses in the United States, Grace du Fleur was a cascading tapestry of magnificent luxury. Located in ritzy Manalapan, it was a heavily guarded sanctuary of marvel.

I gazed at its owner. Uncle Giovanno Pacetti had a podgy face now. The hair at the top of his head was thinning. A thick layer of fat had expanded his waistline. It was perhaps a miracle that he looked like a cutting from Gentlemen's Quarterly, which was due in no small part to his personal tailor. He had survived a mild heart attack two years previously, imputed to good living.

We were sitting outside by the marble-floored swimming pool. Our table of delicacies was covered with a white cloth. On it cold pasta had been served, sliced salami brought in glass plates and the whole meal complemented by tomato sauce à la Gio. The Spanish maid also brought dessert in the form of strawberries in a bowl, another with cream and carrot salad. The butler was at hand with a bottle of fine Chianti.

Uncle Gio took a strawberry and dipped it into the cream before biting into its fresh flesh. He pushed the two bowls to me.

'Grazie.'

He waved a hand. 'Prego.'

He took a fork and stabbed a slice of salami. 'Shouldn't be indulging myself in this treat,' he said contemplatively. 'Doctor's orders. But who believes doctors?' he sneered and threw the sausage into his mouth. 'Doctors, lawyers, financial advisers; all they want is your money.'

I stifled a laugh and looked away. There were two chicks enjoying themselves in the swimming pool. They wore strings for swimming costumes, barely covering bodies that should be registered as weapons of sexual seduction.

'What're you thinking about?'

'Niente.'

'A man never thinks of nothing,' said Uncle Gio. 'Everything we think is important. A wise man knows how to make it productive, and a fool lets it fade away.'

'Scusi, Papa Gio. I was just wondering if you'll ever get married.'

'Non per cent'anni.' He gestured at the girls in the pool. 'With such gorgeous beauties around it's difficult for me to choose who to marry. Besides, women fall in love more with the status than the man wearing it.'

'So, Papa Gio cannot differentiate between the genuine ones and the gold-diggers,' I said matter-of-factly.

'Naturalmente, nipote mio.'

I stared again at Uncle Gio's current distraction. Two really stunning, pleasant-looking young chicks. And after they left Uncle Gio would probably only have pleasant memories of them.

And the problem with the man was his stunning ability to read minds. 'Somehow as I get older the girls get younger. Funny, huh?' he laughed hysterically. 'And don't think I was reading your mind. I was reading your face.'

I allowed myself a chuckle of amusement.

He patted his chest. 'This old body can't do the cantata anymore, so I let young bodies do the dance notes while I lie there and enjoy the music.'

With thoughts like that, the man wasn't likely to permanently get hitched to a woman any time soon. I had heard from Dad that Uncle Gio had been like that from the time they had become friends. Although he regarded Mum and Dad's marriage as a sanctimonious union, he would never actually consider the possibility of getting married. He was too busy creating wealth to be distracted by a woman at home. His intense sexual vigor was occasionally dealt with by excursions to explore the pleasures a female body could unleash, that platform provided by temporary partners who stayed as long as he was still interested in them.

My parents had met Giovanno Pacetti during their honeymoon in Italy. I understand he had some merchandise that he needed to export into the United States. Dad was with the Customs Department then, and Uncle Gio needed his help bringing the goods into America. For an agreed-upon fee, Dad would see to the smooth passage of the merchandise from Italy to America. Admittedly a difficult task, involving numerous risks. But Dad had been in those days committed to his dream of making it big in life. He discussed the issue with his brand new bride and her advice was that her husband should do what he thought was suitable, as long as they didn't end up in jail. He promised her that he wouldn't go to jail. What he would do for Giovanno Pacetti was not illegal, just bending the rules a little. He jumped into the rare opportunity and received a handsome reward for his efforts.

Giovanno Pacetti's entrance into America caused tremors in the underworld, especially as he was intent on the dominance of the mid-Western market. Having already cultivated a niche for himself in Italy, he enjoyed relative popularity with those who cared to listen to whispers about his endeavors. A murder on the docks of Sicily had been linked to him earlier in his youth, but lack of witnesses and evidence had prolonged his enjoyment of life as a free man.

He had lent that Robert Shelley money to start the latter's business enterprise. While the Shelley empire's foundation was being laid on legitimate ground, Giovanno Pacetti weaved his way through the darker side of the law. The two had become good friends from the first time they had met and their friendship would grow over the years.

Over the next four years, Giovanno Pacetti would become one of the most feared lords of the underworld, a respected businessman and successful venture capitalist. He was quick to seize a business opportunity and the technology boom was no exception. He had two healthy companies in the Silicon Valley and was not averse to plans that sought to spread his wealth to wider horizons.

He had risen to eminence within twenty years of his arrival in the United States of America, during that time raising many an eyebrow in the law enforcement agencies – though no one could ever pin anything concrete on him. On the twenty-seventh year of his entrance into the land of opportunity a sensational case developed round him on charges of extortion and threatened his business links with collapse. Favors owed to him by senior police officers combined discreetly with the diligence of a capable law firm to clear him of the charges. Giovanno Pacetti soon became known as a clever manipulator and a generous contributor to charitable causes, while at the same time earning the dubious distinction of ruthless conniver and brutal business opponent who knew no scruples when it came to realizing a quick buck, employing shady techniques to steer his fortunes around.

For the past forty years Signor Giovanno Pacetti had cultivated the reputation of a mente da serpente – the cunning of a snake.

Having accomplished his life goals and risen to staggering opulence, Uncle Gio now lived a secluded and semi-reclusive life in his own created paradise, surrounding himself with efficient servants, good food and skilled women who were always available to curb his excesses at the flick of a button.

'You're quiet,' he observed now with a solicitous face. 'What's troubling you, nipote mio?'

'I need your help.' I handed him a piece of paper. 'Those are the license plates of a black Hummer. New York registration. I need you to do a discreet dig on the owner. And I want everything there is to know about him.'

'Give my boys two days,' said Papa Gio. 'How discreet do you want this to be?'

Translation: Is it only information you want?

'I need to take certain measures to meet the exigencies of this difficult period.' Sorry, Uncle Gio, but this is my show, and I can't involve you anymore than I already have.

'Va bene.' He was reading my face again. 'There's more,' he stated.

I gave him another small piece of paper. 'I need you to take care of him for me.'

He read it for a second. His expression hadn't changed when I looked up. 'Permanently?'

'Permanently.'

He shoved the papers in his shirt pocket and his face broker into an expressive grin. 'Let's go and join the bellas for a swim. It's rude to keep ladies waiting.'

A swim was a good idea. A damn good idea. I stood up.

'And don't concern yourself anymore about this John Grimshaw. He's finito.'

Ciao baby!

Chapter 24

Cannot hold. Cannot touch. Cannot dream. Cannot laugh. Cannot love each other anymore. Cannot be together anymore. Must be brave. Must be strong. Must go on. Must shake away the grief. And must keep holding on to sanity.

There are esoteric moments when nothing makes sense. You walk around in circles. Your mind is in a fog and you can't think straight. You become locked in a maze of despair. Then suddenly your body is taken over by a powerful force of ultimate fury. It takes over your whole being and you can't control the shaking of your body. Your heart hardens into an intrepid mass of stone. The decision is made.

If you can't protect those you love, then you should do something to restore their honor. Just don't let your perpetual despair impair the successful completion of your mission.

You pick up the phone and dial a number. 'Stilworth residence,' a clipped voice says automatically into your ear, coming from the other end of the line.

'May you please put me through to Mr. Stilworth?' Courtesy even in death.

'Identify yourself,' said the clipped voice. 'Mr. Stilworth will not take your call unless you identify yourself.'

'Maybe he will be cooperative if you tell him that this concerns a black Hummer, a sword and the neck of a young woman.'

There was a brief silence. I could hear the muffled exchange of words at the other end of the line. A different voice came on the line. 'This is Stilworth. Speak.'

A man who couldn't be bothered with courtesy. 'I want to discuss with you a delicate matter that demands your attention. Face to face.'

'Very well,' he said. 'I hope this is something worth my time. I do not have the time for pranks.'

'I'm in business myself, Mr. Stilworth, and I know time is of the essence. I assure you this is business that requires our mutual interest.'

'You have thirty minutes.'

Definitely a man who didn't underestimate his authority.

Nevertheless, I made it in an hour. An impatient man is easier to drive to carelessness than a patient one. But as I sat there in the secluded enclave of his study at his home looking at his calm and dignified face I knew that this was a man for whom patience was a virtue. And as I sat there across from him I was conscious of a hard object against my leg. I was wearing an ankle-length black coat. Inside its inner lining was a baseball bat. I had remodeled my coat to accommodate the bat in an upright position along the length of my left leg.

My host was wearing an immaculate tailor-made grey suit. Could've been in his late forties; lean face and athletic body; hair greying at the temples; prominent cheekbones that made his eyes look like black pits in his lean, hungry face.

Uncle Gio's boys had taken exactly the time he had told me they would take to find the info on this guy. A sealed package had been delivered by express mail to me in New York exactly 48 hours after my departure from Miami, Florida. All the info I needed about this man sitting across from me was there in that package. Of greater importance than the rest was that the bastard was a billionaire speculator. The 47-story Stilworth Tower in the heart of Manhattan was living testimony of his achievements.

'You have my individual attention.' He had a carefully practiced voice of ice. 'Permit me the knowledge of your name.'

'My name is not important. What I have to discuss with you is.'

His unblinking eyes bore through me. 'It's always of supreme importance for me to know the names of those I conduct business with.'

'Duncan Shelley,' I said with a challenging stare. 'The business I have to discuss is of a personal nature.'

'Which is why you've been received here, Mr. Shelley.' He wore a blank expression on his face. 'Otherwise you'd have been hosted at Stilworth Tower like everyone else.'

'I thought it better to meet you here. I don't want to ruin the impeccable reputation you hold with your employees.'

'Your concern for my welfare is touching.' His face was anything but touched. 'Let's skip the trivialities. We both know why you are here.'

'It's refreshing that you remember that you murdered someone I was with. Someone who was close to me. Someone I extremely cared for and still care bout. I believe she was gong to marry me.'

'Forgive me for being blunt, Mr. Shelley, but sympathy is a wasted emotion. It is not becoming of me.'

'Do you know I could kill you for that?'

He relaxed back in his leather chair. 'You wouldn't be so careless.' His eyes went past me. 'Big Rob has been a loyal and efficient subordinate ever since I hired his services 17 years go.'

I turned round and gazed at the giant by the door. A big, Black man with gigantic limbs and hands that wouldn't have encountered problems in breaking a grown man's neck. At the mention of his name he flashed an arrogant smirk. I made a mental note to give him pain when I got to killing him.

'That door you come in through has a metal detector. We've established that you don't have a firearm on your person.'

'Impressive,' I remarked calmly.

'You see, Mr. Shelley, presumptuousness has never been a defining element of my character.'

'You think of everything, don't you?'

'A man in my position cannot afford to be careless.'

'And what position is that?'

'On top.'

'Does that give you the right to take another person's life?' I demanded hotly. 'Does it give you the authority to kill another human being? Right now I'm a very angry man, Mister. I'm very angry because I lost someone who meant something to me, and I feel great pain that I can't hold her in my arms again. And it makes me sick to the pit of my stomach to be in the same room with the bastard who killed her. Why? Why? Give me a fucking reason why you killed her!'

'I saved your life, you fool!' he barked. 'Don't you understand that? Instead of sitting there proclaiming your anguish, you should be expressing gratitude for my help.'

For a moment we glared at each other. Then he stood up and went to the window. He pulled up the venetian blinds and clasped his hands behind his back as he gazed outside. 'You asked why.' He spoke without turning round. 'I went to Alaska for a winter holiday with my brother. We stayed alone with our old grandfather. One day I'm far in the forest, playing with my brother. We have a pick and shovel we use for digging up snow as we make castles. A while later Joey leaves me to go relieve himself in the bushes. I'm concentrating on building snow castles when I hear a scream. When I get there Joey is clutching his hand. He's been bitten by a rampant wolf. I get there as it is scurrying away.

'I grab our tools and we make our way back home. Along the way Joey is getting feeble, and we're still miles away. Suddenly he goes berserk. He's forming at the mouth. His face is dripping with sweat. He's going mad, mumbling incoherent things. He attacks me. I yell his name but he keeps coming at me. I pull out the handle of the pick and defend myself with it. I hit him very hard on the head. Another blow to the neck and he falls down dead. I'm crying that I've killed my brother. I'm afraid to touch him. Somehow I know that he's dead.

'I pick up the shovel and run home. It's dark when I get there. I'm afraid to tell Grandpa what has happened. So I tell him that Joey went for a piss and disappeared. Joey was 13 and I was 10. I'm scared terribly and I'm doing my best not to cry in front of Grandpa. Grandpa says we'll look for Joey in the morning. It's beginning to snow once again and it would be risky to go out in the dark. Then the lights go out.

'Zip. We've had a power-cut. Grandpa lights a lamp. He gives me a box of matches to go and check the fuse box. I strike a match-stick and go into the kitchen. A glass shatters noisily in the other room. I'm frightened.

'I go back to where I had left Grandpa. I strike another match and I see Grandpa on the floor. He's got blood on his face. The lamp beside him has gone out. I catch a shadow to my right. A blood-stained face comes close to me. It's my brother Joey. He's grinning menacingly at me. Before the match goes out I see that his front teeth have grown into prongs. His face is deathly pale. My brother has turned into a vampire. Terror seizes me. The match goes out. I pull quickly backwards. My back hits against the mantelpiece. I feel in the dark for the spade I had placed next to the fireplace. My hand touches it and I grip it quickly. I lash out with it gripped in both my hands. A cry of agony comes from the vampire. I slash down again in the direction where the sound came from.

'Silence. Complete silence. I'm all alone in a dark house. I hide myself in the fireplace. Tired with exhaustion, I must have fallen asleep. When I awoke the lights were back. I went to check Grandpa. He was not breathing. The vampire had killed him. I stole a look at the vampire. His head was a dark mess of blood. I ran away and locked myself in a room upstairs until morning came.

'From that day on I made a pact to myself that I would work tirelessly to destroy vampires. My success in business was driven by the passion to rid the world of vampires, because the fight would be impossible without financial resources. So now I'm wealthy, and the job is easier. I've been all over the world, many different places, hunting vampires. Thousands have met their demise under my hand.'

He turned to face me. 'My obsession in life is to rid the world of vampires. They're getting stronger by the day. And they have devised ways to avoid detection. I used to employ traditional methods like garlic and crosses. Now I have found a very effective way. I chop their head off. That way they die for good. They're grouping together now. They want to take over this world. But they won't, I'm winning. They know it and they want to scare me. But nothing will divert me from my calling. My mission is to eradicate vampires from this beautiful world.'

'Bullshit.'

He raised an eyebrow. 'Care to extend on that, Mr. Shelley?'

'Can't you see that he had rabies? It was rabies that made him go crazy.'

'I thought the same too, 'til I realized that it was an escape route designed by the masters of destiny. They provided me with a credible story to give the police so as to be free to answer my calling. My grandfather's death was blamed on my brother. A tragic accident. I was an innocent 10-year-old kid. Young, but not so innocent.'

'Bullshit.'

'I didn't expect you to understand, Mr. Shelley. This is above mere mortals. I, on the other hand, know these animals. I talk with them. I can always feel them when they're close by. I sense their filthy smell and they can't hide from me. I cut off their heads and burn them in my own specially-designed incinerator. No more evidence of their existence.'

'You're stark raving insane. Certifiably mad.'

'The lights went out that evening. Was it a coincidence?' He answered himself. 'Coincidences exist for those who want to believe in them. I do not.'

'And perhaps you can remind me why you're telling me all this shit?'

He came back to the desk and took his seat opposite me. 'Because it eases the soul to talk bout certain secrets.' His face took on a mildly curious expression. 'And what would you do? Inform the police?' He laughed derisively. 'They wouldn't give you the time of day. It would be your word against that of a billionaire with an excellent civil track record.'

'Those are not my intentions.'

'But of course you harbor ambitions of vengeance. You re conscious of the fact that the information you've just received is privy only to me and my loyal servant behind you. I don't care to have my secret divulged to anyone else beside the two of us.'

'Yet you have told it to me.' I held his cold stare. 'For a man whose life is completely defined by that which he fears the most this will be your undoing.'

'Don't flatter yourself, Mr. Shelley,' he dismissed. 'You cannot be permitted to get out of these premises. Surely you comprehend that. You will take my secret with you to your grave.'

He focused his eyes on his bodyguard behind me and made an order. 'Take him away and kill him. And this time for God's sake make sure he's dead.'

I leapt to my feet and my right hand brought out the bat in a flash.

Big Rob paused, a confused look crossing his face.

'Sorry to disappoint you, ace,' I said to him quickly. 'Should've searched me. Now you'll pay for that oversight.'

I swung the bat forward but didn't make it go all the way. He thought it was coming for his head and ducked. First mistake. His stomach was wide open for the taking. I lunged at his vast belly and connected with flesh and bone. I'm sure two of his ribs broke with the impact. He groaned in agony and doubled up in pain, trying to shake his head clear. I cut the bat down across his back with all my strength. The big guy came crashing forward and slumped in a useless mass on the floor.

I turned to face Stilworth. I was only in time to see him raise his hand. I caught the glimpse of a small gun in his hand. I ran for cover. As I got out of the door I heard a bullet whiz past my head.

I sprinted outside. No footsteps followed. No time to figure out why. Gotta make it to my car.

Fate had other plans.

Outside I met terror. Face to face with a ferocious Pit Bull. Growling at me with enraged black eyes. Baring its lethal dentalwork at me. The teeth of death.

It came fast at me. Only a madman would stand idle when face to face with an angry Pit Bull. It dived at my mid-section. My bat caught the little beast squarely on its head. It fell down, howling in pain. I hit it again and put it out of its misery by crashing its skull onto the ground.

Seconds later I was speeding the car towards the wall enclosure. The gate was reinforced steel. I stood a better chance with the precast walls. I braced myself and drove the X5 straight at the wall, next to the gate. The noise that fell around me on impact was enough to make me think I would not make it in one piece. But the fabricated bricks gave way and the car crept through. The engine choked and died. I got out fast. The BMW was a wreck. All those movies you see in which cars crash through gates and buildings and remain unscathed by the ordeal are false. A car's weak metals cannot take on that punishment and remain intact. The X5 was badly deformed, but had done an excellent job of sheltering me from harm. I ran for safety. Turned on a side street and kept running. Thank God for the training with Jessica. I found a street phone and called a cab to take me home.

The fight had begun.

Chapter 25

I met him again in my dreams.

This time he was wearing a red shirt with a red tie and black pants. He had on black moccasins and a dark green knee-length coat. Otherwise everything else about him was as I had seen him the first time he had come to my dreams.

This time he was inside a church. He was kneeling down on the fat cushion at the foot of the pulpit in a praying stance. I found myself standing behind him a few feet away. I waited there until he finished his silent prayer.

He straightened up slowly and turned around to face me. For a long time he gazed all over my body and said nothing. He paced around me and came to stop in front of me again. 'You smell of death.'

I didn't know what to say.

'Harm comes to those who don't listen,' he said. 'If you had listened to me things wouldn't be this away. Now a dark cloud hangs over your head and threatens to swallow you.'

I found my voice. 'What are you? An angel?'

His voice broke into a smile. 'Something like that. And something totally different from that heartless beast who kills innocent people.'

He picked the question from my eyes. 'We've been watching him. And we've been anticipating the arrival of the time when you would act.'

'Why me?'

'Each of us has an obligation in life. When the time comes all we have to do is to fulfill that obligation.'

'What should I do?'

'Provide services that will facilitate a channel for the re-birth of an avenger.'

'What is needed?'

'A mother.'

* * * * *

We met at The Hilton in New York City.

The suite had already been booked. What I needed to do was show my identification at the reception. The rooms were empty when I got there. Thirty minutes later a young lady arrived. A girl, really. Could've been eighteen. I could see she was tense.

She greeted me and I answered back. 'Lost a friend too?' I asked her.

She nodded. 'He came to you too?'

It was my turn to nod. 'Gave me the instructions and told me I would meet a young lady here who has also been through trying times. How was it arranged for you?'

'Same way. I was to come to the hotel and meet a man. I guess it's you.'

I paced round the room with my hands in my pockets. For some reason my palms were sweating. 'I guess this is it.'

'He said it was imperative we didn't waste time.'

Without another word, I removed my clothing. She took her clothes off too. In a moment we were facing each other in our birth suits. I stepped closer to her.

'Please don't hurt me,' she pleaded, almost in a shaky voice. 'I've never done this before.'

I had been told that The Mother had to be a pure virgin.

'I know. I'll be gentle. There's nothing to be afraid of.'

I believe I handled her perfectly. With the longing I had had for sex, I was surprised that I did one round with her and was content. It was like some powerful force had taken over my body functions and I could just obey. Our lovemaking was done with a sense of duty and not for selfish reasons. Afterwards, we both passed out. I regained consciousness at midnight. She was still asleep.

Then something occurred that made me sit up straight. My eyes were transfixed on her tummy. It was swelling rapidly. As it swelled there were movements of something in her stomach. In a few short seconds it had grown into full pregnancy. She woke up then.

She stared at her own stomach with shock. The thing inside her began moving downwards. It popped out and caused her body to jerk back. She fell back on the bed with a short cry. The little bundle of flesh from her womb fell on the carpeted floor and stayed there for some seconds.

Motionless, we both stared at it. In rapid sequences, the baby developed through various stages of childhood and went on to mature into a fully grown woman.

Our adult baby stood staring at us with an embarrassed look at her nakedness. She went to the closet and opened it. The clothes were there. That had been arranged. She got dressed fast.

When she was through she turned to us. 'Thank you both for providing the channel for my rebirth. But I have to leave you now, Father and Mother. I have a mission to fulfill. Remember your solemn promise not to reveal what happened today.' She bowed her head courteously and left the room.

It was a long time before either of us could talk.

And it was probably predestined that I would be the one to do so first. 'Who are you?'

She didn't answer.

'Look, we just shared something that other people will never have. It's only sane that we tell each other our names.'

'I can't tell you. You know the rules.'

'Screw the rules. We aren't machines. We are people with feelings and thoughts. We can't just pretend that...' I saw the resolute expression on her face and gave up. 'You know what? Just forget it.'

I leapt off the bed and began to quickly pull on my clothes. 'This is all just insane. You're right. It's best we just forget about it.'

I left the room without another glance behind me.

* * * * *

Half an hour later I was riding the elevator at the Stilworth Tower, going up to the top floor. The night watchman had been told by his boss to let me through. I had called the volatile Mr. Stilworth on my mobile phone as I drove to the building.

Stilworth sat at his desk. I didn't sit down this time. 'Where's your shadow?'

'I dismissed him for the day. I have no further use for him tonight.' He stood up. The sword he was holding in his hand became visible. 'I'm glad you came, Mr. Shelley. It gives me an opportunity to take you out myself and finish your meddlesome nuisance.'

I ignored him. 'You occupy the top-most floor. It's all about power, isn't it? Gives you a psychological advantage over your subordinates.'

'I'm the head of the corporation, and the head is always on top.'

'And that means it has the highest length to fall.'

The voice did not come from me.'

It just came into the room but its owner was not there.

I saw Stilworth cringe back in fear. He looked around himself frantically. Then he blocked his face with his hands as if fending off an attack. He yelped fearfully and ducked an invisible attack. I could not see who was attacking him. There were just the two of us there.

His body suddenly jerked back as if it had been whipped by something painful. He grabbed the desk for support and shook his head dazedly. Sweat sprang up on his forehead.

'No!' he screamed in terror. He grabbed the sword with both his hands as if his whole life depended on it. He began to swing it in arcs around him. His tormentor materialized just t that moment, and I saw that it was my adult child. My own daughter who had been born only an hour ago. She was laughing at him. Taunting Stilworth with her laughter.

Yellow film of light glowed all around her form. Stilworth swung at her, slicing through her body, but the places where he made his cuts soon formed back together. Stilworth swung his sword frantically and furiously struck at her, desperately trying to do damage but realizing that it was a futile attempt. She left him and ran towards the sliding door that opened onto a flight of stairs. She went out and climbed up the stairs. Stilworth followed her quickly, wielding his lethal sword in front of him.

I followed them. They went up onto the rooftop terrace. It was dark up there. New York was a glowing kaleidoscope of breathtaking beauty seen from that height, and we were standing on top of the great city.

The glowing woman looked at me and I saw her smile at me. It was a faint smile but it was there. Like she was sending a message to me. And somehow I understood what she was telling me. This was the end of it all. The end of the crazy madness.

She stretched her hands straight in from of her, palms facing forward at Stilworth. Bright gold bolts of light shot from her hands and went into Stilworth heart. I saw the fire glow at his chest and quickly spread to the rest of his body. The fire was eating him from the inside out. His body was hit by spasms as the electric current tore through him. His legs danced involuntarily. The combustion was melting the man. His face wilted and burned away. His flesh wrinkled and shrunk away with the heat.

He dropped down and his body became still. The fire ate every piece of his skin. What remained was a charred skeleton.

The glowing woman came forward and knelt down. She bowed her head before the charred bones. Then she gathered them in her hands and shot into the air above the building. She flew far away and continued rising into the darkness of the night until she became a tiny speck of light in the sky.

I remained there, rooted to the terrace, staring at the space where I had last seen her. The tiny speck twinkled spectacularly twice.

Then disappeared.

* * * * *

The house stood facing me like a giant. It really wasn't big. Just a 3-bedroom dwelling for a middle income family.

I looked at it and felt powerless. Not so long ago I had stood here smiling at her and encouraging her to go in. This time I was alone, wearing a guilty face and dreading to go in. How could I face her family? How do you explain to them that you are to blame for their daughter's death? How do you handle the grief that envelopes you? Lisa Cassidy died because she was with you. It's a guilt that will forever live with you.

It was as if it wasn't me getting into her home. Another person wearing my face, another being living in my body went into the house and offered condolences to her family. Her brother shook my hand. Her mother wept with me. Her father was the strongest, but the pain was in his eyes.

He took me to her resting place.

'I'm sorry, sir...' I choked on my words. 'I'm sorry bout...her...' I couldn't bring myself to say her name.

'Thank you. It was kind of you to come. Her death was a very sad loss.'

'I'm really sorry about your loss.'

'It was all our loss. We all loved her. And we appreciate your coming here to see us.' Then an embarrassed look came over his eyes and he struggled to look at me. 'You know,' he started nervously, 'of all her friends, you're the only one who has come to offer condolences.'

'She meant a lot to me. And we can't pretend she was never here.'

Mr. Cassidy forced a smile of understanding to his lips. He patted my shoulder and left me.

And maybe then you start to understand the meaning of loneliness. You stand at the foot of the grave and look down. It hurts badly. It hurts that she's lying there never to again to wake up. It pains you that she's buried six feet under. It cuts deep inside you and leaves a permanent scar inside your soul.

You remember her sweet laughter. You remember her beautiful, lovely eyes. You remember her scorching, killer smile. You remember her attractive body. And you don't forget. You just don't forget these things...

You turn around and leave as if in slow motion. You feel like a disintegrated piece of flesh. It's as if your feet are detached from the rest of your body. That the steps they're taking are not real because you don't feel yourself treading on the ground. That someone else is walking away.

Because you know full well that you are still at the foot of the grave weeping for her.

Goodbye, kid. May your good soul rest in peace. You'll always occupy a special place in my heart.

EPILOGUE

She leaned her head against the wall and folded her arms across her chest. 'Hey.'

'Hey.'

'I was thinking you might not come back.'

'I thought you knew me better than that.'

'Yeah, but a woman can't be sure.'

I threw a marshmallow into my mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully.

Her face creased into a reproachful look. 'Those things are bad for your teeth.'

I hid my packet obediently into my pocket. 'Another habit I gotta kick.'

She sighed heavily and shut her eyes. 'I don't know what to do anymore. They let him out. They charged him for burglary and released him after he paid a fine. They said there's lack of evidence on the allegations of murderous intent. Something about preventing an international incident.'

She ran a hand through her hair in frustration. 'I don't know where to run to anymore,' she said in a shaky voice. 'Oh God, Duncan!' she cried suddenly. 'What're we going to do?'

I moved closer to her and silently handed her the newspaper I was holding. She looked at me with an uncomprehending expression. I nodded at her. She unfolded the paper. The story had been given small space at the foot of the front page:

LONDON: An American man, John Grimshaw, died last night when his room at The Great Eastern Hotel was gutted by fire. Authorities attributed the fire to an electrical fault. The manager of the hotel expressed regret at the unfortunate incident. The establishment has—.'

She looked up at me. The question was written on her face.

I answered with my eyes.

She broke down and fell against me. 'Oh Duncan!' she cried.

I held her head firmly onto my shoulder and didn't want to let go.

* * * * *

№ 39, Chepstow Place, was Assagi, a restaurant with an Italian ambience. You need to reserve tables in London restaurants at least a month in advance. Having Jess close by saved me. Her role as a political adviser allowed her the luxury of pulling some strings here and there. Which was how we found ourselves having lunch at table 3.

The morning had been spent doing some casual shopping at Harvey Nichols, 105 –125 Knightsbridge.

After lunch we drove into Portobello Road to watch a movie at the Electric Cinema. Come evening I was with her at my temporary home, the penthouse suite on the 6th floor of St Martin's Lane. We stood by one of the large windows that flowed from ceiling to top floor. We were taking in the night beauty of the Covent Garden skyline.

Further upwards the sky held a constellation of stars. Breathtaking sight. 'Wonderful, isn't it?'

'Yeah,' she responded in a low voice.

'Yeah. They're always beautiful. I used to look at them and I'd think about you. Always, I thought of you.'

'You're still a romantic. I thought it would wear off with the years.'

'Nah. It's part of my nature.'

We fell silent for a while.

'Is what you're saying true?' she asked in a quiet voice. 'Did you really think about me always?'

I answered with a question. 'What do you think?'

'I want to believe it's true.'

'Then it's true.'

She looked away into the night stars. Her voice had a curious edge when it returned. 'Did you ever get married?'

A shadow covered my eyes and I turned quickly and looked away. After a long pause I answered. 'No,' I said slowly. 'No, I never got married.'

She fell silent.

'You? Were there some other guys?'

'Yeah. A few. Nothing special. Just people who came and went.'

'And now?'

'Now?' she repeated as if she hadn't heard what I had asked her. 'Well, let's just say I'm hoping this guy I'm standing with will ask me to marry him.'

'I'm afraid of marriage right now,' I said truthfully. 'Every time I ask someone to marry me they wind up gone.'

A long moment of silence passed.

What the heck? 'When we do I want your name to change back to Jessica.'

'Yes,' she replied softly. 'After all, Shirley Shelley doesn't sound right, does it?'

For the first time that evening I laughed. 'No. Jessica Shelley is fine.'

She laughed too.

Our laughter died away and silence enveloped us again.

I looked at her. She turned to me and stood facing me quietly. I looked into her eyes and saw the love they held for me. She didn't have to say any words. It was all written there.

'You still live me,' she stated.

'How do you know?' I asked softly.

'There's nothing a woman knows more than when a man loves her. She can read it in his body. The way he looks at her, his unspoken actions...all those things speak volumes.'

I just smiled at her.

She asked the inevitable. 'Where do we go from here?'

I took her hands in mine. 'We make love.'

We did exactly that.

And the magic was still there.

We both felt it.

####

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