LAX. Los Angeles, USA. January 2011.

Julian was on the phone making plans for the evening. He had just dropped off his girlfriend of 2 years at the United Airlines gates and was looking forward to a night on the town with his boys. Walking towards the parking lot to retrieve his car while talking, and not really paying attention to his steps, he accidentally pushed off a luggage cart. Before he could make a single move to stop it, he watched it bang into the rear of a car with a big smashing noise.

He flipped his phone shut as the furious car driver was coming out to inspect the damage, a thunderous expression gracing his face. While trying to calm down the angered man, Julian noticed that the cart and luggage belonged to a young slender woman who was looking at him with smouldering murderous eyes and had yet to utter a word.

The man was approaching her with wrath in his demeanour and Julian first instinct was to shield her of any harm; so, he came forward, blocking the man and telling him he was responsible and would attend to any damage. Business cards were exchanged and upon recognizing him, the driver smiled, asked him for an autograph for his wife, and went back to his car as the LAX patrol officer was already waving at him to move it.

Once the situation neutralized, Julian turned his attention back to the woman. She hadn’t moved, so he retrieved the fallen luggage, placed them back onto the cart, and started to mumble an apology, to which she just shook her head and said in an impatient tone:

“Save it! That’s what happens when wankers must be on their phone instead of looking where they’re going …”

Julian was speechless for a second and finally ground out, “Well, there’s no need for names, but if I’m a wanker, then I reckon, you’re a bitch …” He felt his temper rise and he was getting agitated, almost despite himself. She gave him a heated look, and countered, “You’re just preventing me from getting reacquainted with my bed, and right now, it’s pissing me off… Please move, so I can get a taxi to take me home!”

He couldn’t believe the way she was addressing him. Didn’t she know who he was? Julian McCarty, God’s gift to women all over the world and over? And no one, no one, spoke to him that way. He was simply stunned.

He just looked at her, unable to speak, quite taken aback, as it had been quite a long time since anyone of any gender, had actually had the gall to treat him with such contempt, and in public, no less.

She had bangs and long, layered curls, a pair of sunglasses perched on her head, and was wearing a simple white tunic in perfect contrast with her light caramel skin, and some sort of long, high, intricate boots completed her stunning silhouette. An attractive woman, very much so.

He wondered if she was wearing anything underneath the tunic. The thought caught him by surprise, and he shook his head, thinking, what the hell? She wasn’t even his type. Too temperamental, he thought. Yet, she was unnerving him, and he felt a spike of desire. They briefly stared at each other and something seemed to shift in the air. He was sure she felt it too, as she was the first one to move, turning her head, looking somewhat flustered, and trying to find some sort escape route.

She made the cart move, and started to walk away, leaving him behind her, mouth agape. He simply wasn’t used to being dismissed, much less by a woman, and certainly not by a bitch on wheels, no matter how gorgeous she was.

As she was about to cross the pathway to the taxi stand without another look for him, Julian caught up with her, and before he even knew what was happening, (seized by an overpowering urge), he found himself literally grabbing her elbow, spinning her sideways.

She looked at him, shocked, and trembling with fury, asked, “What now? Are you bloody insane?” seething, clearly exasperated, a slight accent on her words, she reiterated, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Before he had a chance to think, the first thing coming out of his mouth in a rushed tone was, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…Hmm…I’ll take you… “. He paused, and focusing on his breathing, said more calmly, “Yes. I’m sorry. I will take you, wherever you are going,” and continued, “This is the least I can do …”

Her head tilted and she repeated in a dubious tone, eyebrows arched and lips pouting, “You’ll take me?”

“Yes. Wherever.” he said, assessing her, suspended in time, and noticing sounds and people were receding around him, as his gaze was fixated on her face.

She was openly staring at him. Their eyes locked, and he realized, the amber of her irises was flecked with intense strands of green and grey making her look almost hypnotic.

One could get lost in these eyes, he thought, as he felt his throat go dry.

He noticed, he was so anxious for her answer: their surroundings seem to have completely faded. He simply didn’t hear or see anything anymore. He could only focus on the way she's stared at him, the way her glare made him feel: open, raw, and exposed. What surprised him more was his own reaction to the look she was giving him. He was suddenly self-aware. He could feel the muscle at his temple pulsate. Heat was suddenly consuming his body. He couldn't think and found himself unable to articulate a coherent sentence. He felt hot. Rooted. His heart pounding erratically and so loudly he could actually hear it in his ears. He almost felt light headed; the feeling was so strong, his hand grasped at the handle of the cart, grazing hers. Right there and then, as shocking and impossible as that seemed, just with that look, it dawn on him, he would beg her, he couldn’t let her walk out of his life when she just stepped in it.

“All right.” she finally murmured, lowering her gaze and breaking the moment.

He blinked, not quite believing it.

Afraid she’d change her mind, he quickly grabbed the cart with both hands and started walking towards the lot, not even checking if she was following. His thoughts were a mess. He was a mess, chastising himself, and thinking - what the hell are you doing? - All he knew was that something was happening, he wasn’t sure what exactly but he knew he simply couldn’t part with this woman being angry at him or worse yet, just disregarded as lint.

They reached the car and she said lowly, her eyebrow arched in surprise, “Dutch. You have taste in cars.” He looked at her, his own face registering shock she would even know what make his custom car was, and he hesitantly uttered, “Thank you…I think.” She flashed him a bright smile, and he was lost for words. He prided himself in being able to handle most situations without losing his cool too often, but that smile disarmed him completely. It was as if her entire face had been illuminated with some internal glowing device. All the lines and comebacks he might have had for her seemed to be at the furthest point from his consciousness in that instant; so, he just returned a small smile, unable to speak.

He opened and held the passenger door for her, and was rewarded with another smile, and his mouth went dry. Placing her bags in the small boot, he noticed the business class priority tags and the Hong Kong logos and found himself thinking, “No wonder she is pissed, the last thing she needed was a scene at the airport after a 15 hours flight!”

He settled himself in the driving seat, looked at her and asked with a soft voice, “Where to?”

“Home.“ was her short and simple reply.

He was puzzled, but before he could even enquire what she meant, she added with a pinning stare and an amused voice, “Or did you forget your own home address, with the commotion you caused?”

Julian

The trip to his house in the Hollywood Hills was a silent one. She hadn't uttered a single word after telling him where to drive, just smiled, put her sunglasses on and relaxed into her seat. Julian had been so stunned, he had silently started the car, yet with the firm intent to ask where she wanted to be dropped off, once they were out of the airport zone; but, as he manoeuvred the car out of LAX and into the freeway, he got distracted and pensive. Every time he was about to break and ask her something, the words just seemed to die on his lips, so instead of speaking, he just turned the radio on a low setting and, from time to time, would glance at her, wondering, once again, what the hell he was doing.

He was sort of grateful for her silence, because he was in turmoil and needed to collect his thoughts and compose himself. He wasn’t feeling as together as he usually was. This much he knew, and it was worrying him. Whatever was going on here, he wasn’t prepared for it, and this never, ever, happened to him. Being in control was paramount to him, an intrinsic trait of his very being. He was feeling rattled, and his consciousness was telling him he needed to regain his footing. Flustered and distracted, he couldn’t even pinpoint where this state of utter bafflement was coming from, except for her mere presence, which of course didn’t make any sense. At all.

He didn't know this woman from Adam's and yet, he was taking her to his home. His multi-million dollar home, which he never took anyone to, least of all, strangers. He didn't even know her name for Pete's sake, and yet, incomprehensibly, couldn’t bring himself to ask her either. What the hell was happening here?

He was Julian McCarty, 43 years old, heir to the McCarty industries, and son of a prime minister! He had turned his back on his wealthy upbringing to strike it on his own. And he had. Handsomely, one might add. His dashing good looks, wicked humour and captivating navy blue eyes were his trademark. Successful top model at 20, owner of an international chain of restaurants by 25, business mogul by 30, A-list actor for the next 10 years because he was getting bored... A man with the Midas’s touch, talent in spades and a stunning body to boot! His name has been attached to a long list of celebrities in politics, entertainment and sports for years, and starlets to confirmed actresses added to a mix of professional women, regularly made attempts to pin him down with their charms. He had 2 famous ex wives and an infamous current girlfriend, to prove he wasn't the husband type. Just a man who enjoyed life, and was more acquainted than most with the joie de vivre that can be gained from bedding as many women as one could. An independent spirit who made the cover of business magazines and supermarket rags alike, his personal fortune estimated at a cool quarter of a billion dollar, the conglomerate carrying his family name, worth in the billions. A man, women were fanning themselves over, a man who other men wished they were! A man who knew who he was, what he wanted, and who was never intimidated by anything or anyone.

Yet, here I am, feeling like a bloody idiot, almost afraid of this strange woman!

Several times during the drive, he found himself about to stop the car and demand to know who she was and where she lived, but one look at her simply deterred his intent.

She looked very peaceful in her seat, with a slight curve at her lips, which made him wonder if she had fallen asleep and was dreaming of something or someone rather pleasant. Her chest was heaving regularly and slowly; her V- neck tunic was up on her legs and he could see well past above her knees, and again, he found himself wondering if she was wearing anything underneath.

You better get a grip he told himself, as he could feel his manhood stir while he was driving his customized $350,000 Spyker convertible.

Totalling it because you're having a hard on and can't seem to concentrate on the road is REALLY not something you need right now, he chastised himself, staring back right ahead.

Yet, after a few minutes, his eyes wandered back to her legs and her tunic, her heaving breast, and her lips, still spotting that small curve. He was so distracted by his wondering thoughts, the car skid a little off the lane. A cortege of blowing horns from the cars behind and flashing lights of another coming forward jolted him back to reality, as both hands gripped the steering wheel more forcefully, as he tried to focus back on the road.

She hadn’t moved nor reacted at all to the near accident he caused, so he thought, she must have been asleep indeed, and he was grateful. He was embarrassed by his reaction to her, and this had him getting agitated, again.

Thank God, she can’t read my mind! This would be damn humiliating. Get a bloody grip!

Finally, after the longest fifty minutes of his life, he flipped the remote control of his gate-controlled estate, drove to the front entrance of the main house, parked the car and said, “We're home”. She smiled and said softly, “Thank you for getting us here in one piece.” He slightly chuckled at the realization she had been well aware of his distracted state, and got out of the car to open her door, as his two husky dogs were welcoming him. He took her hand to guide her to the entrance of his home, as if it was the most natural gesture, and the same thought struck him again. What are you doing?

Once the door opened, instead of standing in his magnificent foyer, she advanced straight to the glass panel that covered the entire side of his expensive living room, and to distract himself from staring at her back and her legs, he asked, “Can I get you anything to drink?”

Stopping right in from of his terrace, without turning she replied softly, “Shiraz if you have it, otherwise, San Benedetto or Voss will do...” He left her and went to the kitchen, busying himself with glasses. Going to the Cellar to get the wine, he had to walk past the living groom and he noticed she hadn't moved; she appeared to be glued in one spot, and he couldn’t help the Cheshire smile creeping to his face. He thought, ”Well, it works every time, the view always does it; she'll be putty in my hands from now...” He hurried getting the wine, already congratulating himself on how easy it would be to get her into bed, “And it only cost me some shiraz, no bad mate...” he smiled to himself.

She was stationed in front of the glass, taking the view in. Julian knew the effect this sweeping view had; it was the reason he purchased the house in the first place. It was the highest house on The Hills, and from it, you could see it all: the mountains, the city and an extended view of the Pacific Ocean.

Only one word could describe it: stunning.

But right now, he didn't really care about the view of the ocean, he was plainly staring at her profile and when he heard her exhale noticing she knew he was there, approaching her, he realized his plan to get her into bed wasn't that important anymore.

She was beautiful. A stunner in her own right, and she wasn’t even trying. The thought hit him like a brick. Her features were nearly perfect, and the simple tunic combined with the artsy pair of boots she was wearing made her look like a million dollar, yet that wasn’t what made his heart beat faster. She was beautiful, not only in the classical sense, but in a peculiar way. Serenity seemed to roll off her, encompassing everything around her with a disturbing calmness. She was leaving him speechless, and he simply didn't know how to deal with this.

He presented her with a glass of wine, his right hand just below her chest. She took it without turning. Being taller and right behind her, he watched her sip into the wine and she moaned appreciatively.

That sound alone almost did him in.

He could feel the heat radiating from her body and he was getting aroused beyond reason. He still didn't know her name and didn't really care at this point. All he could concentrate on was the feeling of her back against his chest, as she was now leaning against it while continuing to drink the wine.

His manhood was slightly rising and hard as stones. He was sure she could feel it. He didn't dare to move and wondered what would happen next. And as he was pondering his next move, she turned around handed him the glass while pinning him with a look that said, “Don't even try…” and said out loud with a small smile, “Well, the view was charming... really… but I do need some rest. Would you care to show me one of your guest rooms?”

Her eyes, her lips, her tongue licking them.

He barely heard her; he was so focused on them. It took every bit of self-control in him to summon a worded response and not kiss her right there and then.

He stepped back, dropped the glasses on a coffee table, and motioned for her to follow him to the staircase.

While ascending the stairs he could only ask himself, what are you doing? What in God’s name are you doing?

Upstairs, he opened a door to let her in and said, “There is an ensuite bathroom if you need anything...Uhmm… “He cleared his throat, not knowing what else to say, “Thank you.“ she replied softly, advancing into the room.

He was standing still, facing her back, and once again, was wondering how this was happening. As he was about to ask her name, she pulled her tunic up in one swift move without turning, and Julian found himself having difficulties to inhale. He thought he had died and gone to heaven and felt tingles all over his body.

She had the most perfect bubble derriere he'd ever seen. And, he'd seen a lot of them. Her lustrous hair falling mid back, drawing even more attention to it. She was wearing a beige strapless bustier bra with matching boy shorts, and her knee high boots. Her body was lean with curves on all the right places; the contrast of her under garments with her colored skin making her so desirable, he thought he would come just by looking at her.

Bloody hell!

With her back still at him, her tunic thrown on the adjacent seater, she bent over to unzip her boots, her curls falling between her legs, almost touching the floor, and again he found himself struggling to breathe, unable to detach his eyes from her body.

She still hadn't said a word, and right before pulling the doona out, she slightly turned her head, captivating him with her mesmerizing eyes, and with her arm placed on her breasts, so as to hide them more, said softly, ”Will you please stay with me until I fall asleep?” He was positively speechless. Not only by his inability to think coherently or simply articulate around her, but also by the fact that she was in his house, in his guest room, inviting him in this very bed he owned and yet, he felt like the guest! He watched her slip under the sheets and having a glimpse of her full front body, he wondered how it would feel to touch her skin.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. His mouth was completely dry. He was beginning to create an association between her and the sensation.

She was settled inside the bed and looked at him expectantly still waiting for an answer, as she let her bustier fall on the floor. He licked his dry lips, nodded numbly, and started to move towards the bed when she added, “You can just lie here... “ indicating her left side, “ ...and go when I'm asleep.” she concluded, yawning. He nodded again, no trusting his voice, as he popped on the bed after removing his shoes.

She had closed her eyes and he found himself looking at her to his heart's content. His head was against the headboard, while hers was on a pillow that gave him a vantage view of her face and shoulders. She looked scrumptious, he wondered if her skin tasted as it looked: warm, burnt caramel, or honey…Golden. Her skin reminded him of the sweetest of confections he wanted to taste and savor. He was so tempted to touch her, but didn't dare; instead, he tried to memorize every single detail of her face. Her skin was flawless, yet he could swear she wasn't wearing any make up, he couldn't see any wrinkle or even sun spots, her pores were simply invisible, her lashes were long, black and curly, her button nose just perfect, and he wondered just how old she was. Her posture at the airport told him she was a woman over 30, but looking at her now, he pondered if it truly was possible considering how perfect her complexion was. His gaze rested on her lips. Juicy was the only word that came to his muddled mind. Yes, plump and juicy as if a cherry had made her permanent home there. Her black hair was layered with auburn streaks, her soft and voluminous curls were scattered around her face on the pillow; she was breathing softly and Julian couldn't help but get closer.

Before long, they found themselves leaning against each other, and she nestled against his hip, while imprisoning his mid section with her arm. She had fallen asleep. He looked at her and for the umpteenth time, he wondered who she was and more importantly, why she was affecting him that much. The situation was unnerving. He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that he had a perfect stranger sleeping inches away from him, and he hadn't had sex with her, nor made one of his signature attempts; but on the contrary was willing to do whatever she asked, when she asked, and of course, he still did not know her name!

All the questions swirling in his mind made him feel restless and he found himself trying to extricate himself from her grasp, only to have her whimper in her sleep, “Don't leave me… “ as she was clutching the pillow and freeing him. He caressed her hair, and bent over to kiss her forehead and said softly, “Baby, I'm not going anywhere.” As he did, he took a whiff of her perfume, and couldn’t help inhaling deeply, the scent was unusual yet oddly comforting if not entrancing, and he almost kissed her again, her scent pulling him in.

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to distance himself, and shaking his head, thinking, “ Baby? What the fuck is wrong with you?” You are ridiculous; thank God, she is asleep and won't remember any of this! Jesus, I need a drink!” He kept looking at her, wanting to leave, yet not daring to, even though he was now free to do so. He was conflicted and confused, and slightly getting pissed off. This whole setting was very puzzling to him, too much so, actually. He didn't watch women sleep! He was Julian McCarty for crying out loud!  He sent them to heaven crying out his name and then sent them on their way!

What the hell is happening here?!?!?!

The restlessness eventually won, and he pulled out his cell phone from his pocket, while making sure he wasn't waking her.

He was texting his older sister, which was kind of another first because he couldn’t recall if he ever asked her love advice. Love? What ?!

Maybe Melissa could help him. Never mind, she was on the other side of the world, in London with her husband. For some unknown reason he felt she could shed some light into the peculiar situation he suddenly was faced with. He needed a woman's opinion here; because he felt like he was sinking fast, and he knew, none of his boys would take this situation seriously or even kindly.

He could already hear their laugh in the distance.

Julian

While watching over her in bed, he saw she heard the ring when her body moved, and she made a slight moaning sound, turning away from the noise.

Julian got up hastily as his phone vibrated and started to ring crescendo. Once outside the room, he picked up and whispered, “Hello?”

“Well, hello to you too, brother of mine! So, what is going on? You have a stranger in your house? Should I be concerned and call the cops? “ Came the chirpy voice of is older sister.

He laughed, exhaling and realizing this was the relief he needed.

He said, “No.” and went on telling her what the deal was from the minute he picked up the woman at LAX to now as she was asleep in his guest room. Melissa was silent for a minute and finally said, “ What is the problem Julian? “

“I don't really know, to tell you the truth...” he replied in a light tone, “Hmm, you seem puzzled, if not rattled, and I have to say this is very odd for you...” She continued laughing, and adding with mirth,

“Have you tried to bang her yet?”

“No.” came the short reply. “Well, this is a first, you go through women like other men go through underwear...” His sister mocked him.

He cut her out, protesting, “I don't even know her name!”

“That never stopped you before!” She insisted.

“True.” He admitted, sheepishly.

“Well, maybe you should snoop in her luggage, that should give you some clues...” She said. The suggestion brought a smile to his face but he heard himself say, “I can't.”

“Why the hell not? “She enquired in a surprised tone.

“It would be invading her privacy. I don't think she would take it too kindly. Besides, I don't know, I think she would be disappointed if I did...” He retorted, not quite believing his own ears.

Silence met his answer.

As silence perdured, he looked at his phone to check the connection and said, “Mel?”

“Yeah, I'm still here. Jul, why do you care if she is disappointed?" she asked in a serious tone.

“I honestly don't know.“ was his slow and simple reply. He repeated the words, clearly shocked by his own admission.

“Well, maybe this woman, whoever she is, will be the one to finally tame you. You sound positively whipped already and I have to say, I'm enjoying this! “ Her clear voice said with undisguised glee.

“Bitch!” he grunted.

“Jerk!” She countered with a smile.

“Well, thanks for calling, I have to go...” his voice, trailed off.

“Jul?" she questioned.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Keep me posted. Try to be kind...” She advised with a smile in her tone.

“I will. We'll talk soon. Bye Mel.” He quickly ended the call, shaking his head and grinning.

Julian went back into the room, and once he confirmed the sleeping beauty was still out for the count, he descended to his kitchen and decided to cook. Cooking always relaxed him. It was a side of him not many people got to see, even his girlfriend only had the benefit of a few meals cooked by him over the span of their on and off relationship.

He really didn't want to think about her right now, but only about the woman upstairs, and he hoped she'd be hungry upon waking up. The thought of her getting out of bed, prompted him to walk to the main door as he realized he never took her luggage out of the car; and he figured she'd want to dress when she woke up.

Lifting a soft leather bag, he examined it and again noticed the business class priority tag, the airline, but also noticed a tag with a single word, a name ‘McGregor’ and a phone number with a 415 area code, no address, nor email. He knew this was San Francisco and wondered if this was where she lived, already thinking about the logistics of their relationship.

He caught himself shaking his head. Relationship? You have a girlfriend, remember?

Clearly, Frances was already in the past as far as he was concerned. She never managed to stir him the way the stranger had in such a short period of time.

But what of the “McGregor” name? Clearly, that's Irish, and she's not. What if she has a husband? Well, why wasn't he at the airport?

So many questions and he was not any closer to answers. He took her two bags upstairs, left them close to the bed and before leaving the room, couldn't resist the impulse to come close to her and caress her hair. He remembered smelling jasmine and pepper? And again, he felt something stir inside him.

He gave her a last look before heading out.

“I need a drink, preferably a strong one.“ was his thought as he exited the room.

With the ipod on he started to cook, and was grateful for the distraction of his hands and mind. After and hour and with a meal almost ready he felt the restlessness come back with force, but refused to succumb going upstairs to wake her up and demand answers.

Instead, he left the house and descended to his pool. He disrobed, got a pair of Speedos on, and started to swim like the devil was chasing after him.

Vi

I stirred, and opened my eyes. It took a full minute to come out of my haze and recall where I was.

Then it hit me like a brick. I was at Julian McCarty's house! In his guest bedroom, to be exact. The events from the afternoon came rushing back, and while examining the room, I smiled.

I got up and noticed my luggage had magically appeared by the bed; I couldn't help my smile to grow wider as I thought, “How considerate of him!”

Then I burst out laughing, as my inner voice hammered, “Don’t even think about it!” “I'm not thinking about anything! The man is fine as hell, but we both know NOTHING is going to happen here, so calm down! He caught me off guard because I was tired, but trust me I have no interest in him!” I said aloud. I opened my bag, pulled a pair of boy shorts and long dress shirt and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. Once cleaned and dressed, I pulled out a Hediard chocolate from my beloved Vuitton case to get some courage, and headed downstairs to find him.

I was just going to thank him, order a car and take my leave. Piece of cake, right?

Of course, I knew who he was upon laying eyes on him at the airport. Who didn't know Julian McCarty?

He was everywhere. From silver screen to business magazines, very difficult to ignore, and even though, I knew more of him than the public through the personal side of his life, and of course his childhood; but I had also seen the recent pictures in People and Paris-Match like anyone else! Any red blooded woman salivated over that body. I had never met the man but I felt I already knew him. And that knowledge was enough for me to stay clear of him.

Nothing can happen between us…

I had already decided to avoid him when I saw him at LAX, trotting while chatting away on his phone. After all, I knew of his reputation and simply didn't need to fantasize over a Casanova! Yet, the distraction of looking at him had made me stop my luggage cart, but I'd never admit this to anyone.

I simply no longer looked at men. Not since...

Well, I wasn't going to think about it, but let just say, after 5 years of being utterly celibate, seeing Julian swaying in his perfect Boss suit, totally oblivious of his surroundings stirred something in me. My heart hadn't felt anything for so long, it took me off guard.

It was his smile. I saw him smile and then laugh over the phone and I figured, it couldn't hurt to just discreetly look...

Never in million years did I expect him to bump into my cart or even speak to me! The whole thing took me by surprise rendering me speechless. And because I didn't trust myself, I went on the offensive when I finally found my voice.

I thought I handled him and myself pretty well, showing both firmness and coolness that seems to destabilise him.

Now, hours later, here I was, descending the stairs in his mansion, wondering how I would get out of this situation unscathed.

The man was attractive, hot even, if the flock of women trying to pin him down were any indication, but I had taken a vow, and if he thought I would spread my legs for him or worse become enamoured of him, he simply had another thing coming. I didn’t care if the man was sexy as sin, rich or rude as hell, I had to get away from this house. And the sooner, the better.

I called out his name several times and didn't get any response as I advanced in the lounge room. Reaching the terrace panel door, I saw him in the pool below and found myself unable to stop staring at his long, tanned, perfectly proportioned, stretched body, moving forward, stroke after stroke.

I licked my lips already thinking I might just dash upstairs, put my boots on, grab my bags and just leave without saying a word. I simply was not sure I could find my voice in the presence of this man. He was 30 feet away, and already I couldn't help but be mesmerized by his body. I knew the closer he would be to me, the harder I'd find it to stand on my own.

I had a preview when he gave me the wine upon our arrival. It scared the hell out of me then.

He'll never know it but the reason I didn't turn to accept the glass he fetched me was because I could barely stand on my legs feeling him so close. My own weakness is how I ended up leaning against him for support, while my eyes were closed and I was summoning the Lord to give me the strength to help me speak so I could get away from him.

Yes, his proximity was a very dangerous distraction.

While I was thinking about the best course of action, His dogs had come to the terrace and started to bark.

It was too late to run.

((~~!~~))

Julian

I felt her even before seeing her. I got out of the pool because I could feel her gaze on me. I just knew she was looking. And the dogs were barking, but in truth, I couldn't really hear them. I pulled a towel from the chaise and wrapped it around my waist while climbing the stairs to the Terrace, and there she was: on the other side of the glass, only wearing a long white dress shirt with cat's eyes on it, just standing still and staring. Her look, made me swallow. Hard. I tried to smile, but I'm sure it looked more like a grimace than anything else, I felt paralysed, like I was in a cloud and couldn't shake it off.

I slid the panel door and said with all the confidence I could muster, “Hi, you're awake...” She looked up at me, wide eyed, and said softly, “You left. I woke up and you were gone. “ Her eyes bore into mine and I found myself replying out of nowhere, “I didn't leave. I'd never leave you.” My hands seemed to have a life of their own, and touched her hair, pulling her towards me until I had her body tight against mine. My voice, just above whisper, against her ear, I repeated, “I did not leave you, I wouldn't.”

What? Where the fuck is this coming from? Jesus man, you've got to get hold of yourself! You sound like a pussy!

But before I could ponder about my shocking statement, I felt her relax against me, and once again my manhood started to take control under the towel, and I forgot it all again.

She looked at me, smiled, and said, “This is the nicest thing you said to me today.”

I couldn't help but laugh. I lifted her, taking her inside, to the kitchen, and sat her up on the island. With both hands on her sides, and her face inches from mine, I sheepishly said, “This is going to sound odd... but what is your name?”

Her head tilted and still looking at me straight, she replied, “Does it matter?“

I looked back at her, pondering the question, and replying truthfully, said, “No, actually it doesn't matter at all...But we're no longer strangers, are we?”  She replied, “No, we're not.” Smiling, she added, ”Victoryn is my name”.

“Julian.” I introduced myself, also smiling. “Nice to meet you Julian.” she grinned, “Likewise, Vi.” I added with a broad smile, “Now that introductions are out of the way. Are you hungry? I cooked. I figured you'd crave a home made meal after your nap...” my hand showing her stacks of food.

“ Yes, I am craving good food among other things...” she countered, licking her lips.

“I…” I don’t know what I was going to say, but she put her index on mine and her darkened eyes displayed inner hunger. I could feel myself open my mouth before even thinking of doing it, and before I knew, I was sucking on her finger. She moaned, looking straight at me with a primal look, and I felt my legs shake. I had never heard a woman moan quite like this and that look...Jesus. Using my hands to steady myself, I held her hips, released the finger and kissed the nape of her neck, provoking a deeper moan.

My lips trailed to her earlobe, her cheek and finally made contact with her bottom lip. Touching her felt electric, like a bolt of lightening had suddenly gone through my body. Parting her lips, I finally felt her tongue against mine, and I realized she tasted like apples and chocolate. Deepening the kiss, I was unable to control the growl rising into my throat. Trying to catch my breath, I looked at her and said with an Australian accent that I thought I lost years ago and which sounded foreign to my own ears:

“Baby, we need to stop right now, because if we don’t…I’m gonna fuck you on this counter, and I don't want our first time to be on a kitchen island.”

I pulled back, and unable to sustain the fire I could see in her eyes, turned my back on her to compose myself.

After a few seconds, my breathing regulated, I said, “Let's go eat. I'll grab some clothes and meet you at the table.”I had no idea how I would get through the meal. All I knew was she was making me lose control, and that was dangerous.

((~~!~~))

Vi

Ok, so I know, I was supposed to get up, get dressed, say thank you and leave... Right? Right.

The minute I saw the droplets of water on his body, I realized there would be no easy way out. I could feel my breath becoming more labored as I was watching him approach the glass panel. My heartbeat seemed to be located in my apex instead of my chest, my ears were buzzing.

By the time he did open the panel, my voice had, once again, left the building and I could only whisper in a small voice, “You left. I woke up and you were gone “.

I was petrified. This was not supposed to happen. I simply couldn't be falling for this man, or any man for that matter.... Definitely NOT, especially not this one....

What are you doing? Was my main thought, as he was pulling me against him.

Oh God! Came next, as I felt his hardness, the heat of his body, and his voice whisper into my ear. When he lifted my body to take me to the kitchen, the brief minute it took was enough for my nipples to get stiff and for my juices to start flowing.

Who knew? My body was alive in his presence. This was a shock.

It was bad, very bad, but why was I already eager to his touch?

He hadn't touched me yet, but I was craving him like no one else before.

Damn, girl! Really?! Said my inner voice as I was caressing his lips with my finger hoping he would suck on it as I was boldly telling him I craved more than food...

I just wanted, no, needed to feel him.

Fuck, I replied to my inner voice. It's been 5 years, 5 long years and I don't even remember what it feels like, so leave me alone. Just this once! It's just fucking; nothing else will happen here...I just need this…I... my train of thoughts was interrupted when I realized he was kissing my neck and I was openly moaning....

Julian and Vi

Both seated, munching food and sipping wine, they were thinking this meal was only a reprieve to the inevitable.

Vi knew, in spite of her better judgment, she wouldn't be able to leave this house before having been touched by the man in front of her. She sighed softly trying to find solace in her meal.

Julian, kept admonishing himself internally for the kitchen kiss. He hadn't seen the side effects coming - his permanent hard on, his utter inability to think clearly once he looked at her - and he was getting pissed off at himself for what he thought made him appear weak. His balls were hurting he wanted the woman so much! He needed to figure out a way to keep himself under control and pronto. Vi was having way too much power over him as it was and he hadn't touched her yet!

The sound of her appreciative moans was another source of torture that made him look straight at her lips. He wondered if she realized the effects of the sounds she was making.

Julian found himself staring at her, wishing he were a piece of food landing on her tongue. Was it wrong to envy a damn carrot? To be jealous of an inanimate object because it got to taste and feel something that he’d dreamed about since setting his eyes on her?

If so, who the hell cared?

He had to remind himself it would all come in good time. Besides, he had a million questions. There was so much he wanted to know about her. As he was wondering what to ask first to distract himself from her juicy lips and his aching groin, she beat him to the punch when she cleared her throat, staring straight, and asked, “Why were you at the airport today?”

He felt like he's been punched in the gut, but was quick to recover; after all, he was an actor.

Did he tell her the truth or could he be evasive? She smiled at him, seeing the wheels in his brain working and added, ”The truth Julian. Please.”

He smirked, feeling totally transparent, and said, “I just dropped off my girlfriend.”

He waited trying to gauze a reaction. None came.

She sipped her wine in silence and then continued to eat while observing him, still smiling.

He was getting uncomfortable as the minutes went by, and for the first time in his adult life, he started to justify himself by saying, “But, she's gone, we're done...”

He stopped talking hoping she would say something, anything. When nothing came, he resumed, feeling obligated to add, ”I hope you know now...This afternoon...You changed everything for me...”

Once again, his comments were met with silence, and she was just staring at him. Unfazed.

He felt panic and anger rise in him. “Vic, I...” he started.

But she got up, went around the table to his chair and he lifted his head towards her when she was standing besides him.

Without a word, she bent over, let a light kiss on his lips and said, “Thank you.“

As she was about to move to go back to her seat, he placed his hand on her hip pulling her towards him, his head rested right against her chest, he could hear her heart beat thought the fabric of her shirt, and the strangest thought flashed in his mind: This is right, this is where I belong.

He looked up, tentatively, while her hand was in his hair, stroking it.

They seemed to communicate without words until she whispered, “okay”. He exhaled in relief, realizing he had been holding his breath unconsciously.

He kissed her wrist as she was cupping his face and made her sit on his lap while holding her tight and kissing her neck. Her scent was overwhelming him and beyond his control, his hands with a will of their own went under her shirt, seeking her breasts.

Before he fully comprehended what was happening, her shirt was discarded, his right hand was firmly holding her on his knee, his lips were sucking on one of her puckering dark nipple, she was moaning, whimpering and thrusting herself against him while his left hand was travelling south to her center.

He couldn’t believe what he had been hoping for was actually happening, but he barely had any grip over the course events, as he thought he would. He felt himself about to explode, and in an effort to show some control, he barely uttered one word, “Taste.”

He sought her lips to kiss her and looked up into her honey and green hued eyes, which were filled with the same need that tormented him, and finally giving into the reckless abandon neither could escape, he repeated in a hoarse voice, “I've got to taste you. Now”.

He lifted her, her legs were around his waist, and he painfully walked to the nearest large ottoman in the lounge where he put her down while continuing to kiss her breast slowly descending towards her navel, while his hand removed her shorts.

Julian was a possessed man. With every taste of her lips, peak, valley and curve on her body, he could hear her ragged breathes and soft moans, his manhood twitched and throbbed in painful anticipation of what he now considered his.

He heard her vocalize her plea within seconds, as if his touches had lit every of her senses on fire, "Julian...I can't take more of this, ...I need...I want...Oh God…” Her body was offered to him, arched towards him, and the scent of her sex engulfed his nostrils .He smiled widely when his eyes finally landed on her centre. It was trimmed, not shaved or waxed, cementing what he already knew; he was about to make love to a real woman. Her sex was already glistening and its smell was intoxicating; he thought he would simply die if he didn't taste it. He went back into his trance, delving in, thrusting his tongue after tracing the delicate folds of her opening.

Sliding up to the sensuous nub of her womanhood, his tongue met a flow of juices that were already pooling around her clit. He just couldn't hold himself and started to lick and suck as if his life depended on it.

The probing and teasing he had planned, now forgotten as the hardening nipple of flesh between her folds, was coated with her juices. The taste was exquisite, as if every part of her body had been created to please every sense he possessed; he savored her sweet and tangy flavor, as a thirsty man would savor his first sip of water. Before even having the chance to thoroughly nibble the clit as he wanted to, he felt her legs shake and he knew she was having her first orgasm. He continued to suck and lick the fountain of delightful nectar until he heard her whimper softly.... She was coming down from it.

He looked up at her and only then, he inserted a first finger in her hot crevice, saying in a husky voice,

"Baby look at me...

I want you to watch me taste you...

I want..."

He couldn't finish, as her body jerked under his finger ministrations.

He felt her hand on his head grabbing a chunk of his hair. Taking it as a signal that another orgasm was on the way, he inserted another finger, while circling, teasing and biting her clit with his tongue and teeth...all the while swallowing her juices as quickly as she kept producing them.

The sound coming from her was purely animalistic. 

Julian could tell, the pleasure he was giving her teetered close to the brink of pain.

In all his years of bedding women, he'd never heard anything quite like it, and it enthralled him knowing he was at the source of it. Her juices kept on flowing covering his chin, neck and chest, while her hips were twitching and bucking uncontrollably upwards. His free hand went to rest on her tummy to hold her down and he could feel sweat running on his back, dripping on his body, but he simply didn't care.

Never had he seen a woman displaying so much pleasure and utter abandon in his life. Never had he seen a woman feel so much, respond so much to his touch. It was almost uncanny. Completely possessed by an unknown force, he continued to devour her, her legs having his head in a chokehold against her apex, the slow insertion of a finger in her rear orifice while he was still nibbling on her clit, did her in. Her entire body shook violently, while she cried out, her legs and arms fell apart, and she slid limp against his cushion, emitting no sounds.

Julian looked up. Her eyes were closed, her sheen body still, and covered with goose bumps.

She had fainted.

Vi and Julian

He smiled, kissed her tummy and summoned the strength to lift her to take her up to his bedroom as he could see goose bumps all over her...

It was going to be a long night.

She came to mid-stairs, and put her arms around his neck. As he was passing the front of the guest bedroom she had slept in, she said, “My bed,”; he nodded and entered the room. He delicately put her on the bed and said smiling, “ Welcome back to the world.”

Blushing, she replied, ”You did this…”

“Indeed I did, and you haven't seen anything yet...” he added cockily with a sly wink, bending over and taking her mouth.

The kiss was out of this world. She could taste herself on his tongue and couldn't get enough; she felt her core twinge, another orgasm threatening to rupture. Her hands were roaming over his back, under his sweater, and sliding down they met with his pants. Slipping a hand in, she touched his manhood, revelling at the softness of his skin, giving him a puzzling look when he stopped the kiss to groan.

He got up from the bed, his eyes never leaving hers and stripped out of his articles of clothing to give her a full view of his natural state.

He went to the bathroom, and came back with a glass of water in hands. Giving it to her, he said with a smile, “Drink up. I think you’re going to need it…”

She did as told while taking in his full splendor, but her wandering eyes rested on his mid section, unable to go further down.

He was erect, hard, and already leaking. She looked at his penis, as would a thirsty woman looking at a tall glass of cold water, and licked her lips in anticipation of touching it, feeling it and tasting it.

She was so preoccupied by the object of her desire, she didn't notice Julian's eyes had turned a dark shade of blue and that he too, was licking his own lips staring at her.

She finally looked up when he was against her, positioned at her entrance. The empty glass rolled on the floor. With a strangled voice, he said, “Please, tell me you need it as much as I do...” as one of her hand rested on his chest while the other was at the back of his neck, pulling him forward.

As he was inserting himself, her eyes riveted to his, she breathed, “I need it as much as you do ...God knows I do...”

Inches by inches, she felt his member fill her. Julian grunted and said, “You are so tight, so fucking tight...I don't think I've ever felt anything like this...” He stopped mid sentence feeling a barrier, his voice, shaking, he asked,

”Are you a virgin? Jesus...I…”

She smiled and with a labored voice, whispered,

“No, I'm not. It's just been a very, very long time...I guess the cobwebs are hard to...” she giggled.

He interrupted her, growling in a hoarse voice, "Baby, please. DO NOT MOVE. DO NOT LAUGH OR GIGGLE... unless you want me to come right this minute..." Almost wincing, he added, ”Don’t move, or it’ll be over before it’s even begun…”

She remained still until he was fully in, but when she could feel his member touching the hilt of her center and the exquisite pressure the sensation ignited, she involuntarily began to clench and unclench her sheath.

“It’s perfect.” She said, looking straight into his stormy eyes.

“Yes,” he concurred, ”It’s like a custom made glove...You fit me perfectly...You were made for me..." he breathed against her lips, kissing her as they were finally moving in unison as their orgasm was building.

Soon the room was filled with echoing sounds of flesh slapping against each other at a fevered pace, grunts and moans that neither seemed to be able to control, and nothing but the promised rapture mattered.

Finally, he could take no more; his shoulders ached, his body hurt, his legs cramped. Struggling to inhale, spots forming under his eyelids, Julian tried to warn her of his impending release by saying, “God…I'm gonna...” but the sentence wasn't completed. He gave in a guttural moan on his final thrust and as he came with a deep shudder, she felt the heat of his semen travel throughout her canal, provoking another of her own orgasm, as he continued to pump into her until there was nothing of him left to give.

He collapsed on top of her with ragged breaths, just about to black out.

He was still inside of her, he could feel her body was still shaking, and worried he was crushing her, he made a move to pull out when she stopped him and held him tight, her breathing still shallow, she said, “Please stay,”

“Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you,” he asked in a low voice, concerned.

“You're not hurting me. Pain is only pleasure with bad rap…" She replied, softly laughing.

“Witty.’ He returned her smile, and biting the crook of her neck, gently added, “I aim to please....”.

She took his lips.

What started as a tender kiss, soon transformed into a duel of tongues and a meeting of wills. The passionate embrace creating a surge of life of his member within her. The feeling was incredible for both. For her, because it had been a long time since she felt anything. For him, because he had been using condoms for so long he couldn't recall what it felt like to actually feel a woman while making love to her.

These thoughts didn't linger over a few seconds, as soon, they could feel an orgasm threatening them with such intensity, they had no choice but to succumb to their primal desire for each other. Neither of them could think anymore.

Control and consequences be damned.

By the time they cried it out, both were covered with a new sheen of sweat; she had scratched his back drawing blood; and her neck, shoulders and lips were bruised from the biting he unleashed upon her.

This time, he rolled over and had her lie down on his chest.

He looked for her glazed eyes, and with a finality Julian never thought possible, he said, “You are mine.”

She didn't reply and just nuzzled against his chest.

They fell asleep listening to each other hearts.

Julian

Julian woke up the next morning with a smile on his face. He had slept like a baby; the kind of slumber only the satisfied can achieve.

And satisfied, he was. Satiated, in fact.

As his eyes started to flutter open, and he felt rays of sun through the blinds, his flesh tingled. His hand grazed his morning wood, and he licked his lips.

Keeping his eyes closed, he recalled how she has awakened him, in the middle of the night, his throbbing cock in her rotating mouth.

He moaned dreamily. How lucky could one man get?

Her lips and tongue had expertly worked the shaft and crown, making his member harden and grow, provoking small whimpers from him, as he was slowly awaking from the quiescent state their previous exertions had left him in.

When she had opened her mouth and sunk down, engulfing the entire shaft in a split second and letting it out, repeating the motion twice, Julian had screamed at the sensation, jerking forward, fully awake; his member hard, throbbing and alert. As his hand rested on her head, she had held steady and pushed him back down on the bed, making him understand, he was not to touch her, not if he wanted her to finish what she was doing. Not wanting to interfere with her work, Julian's hands had moved behind his head, grasping at the headboard to brace himself for more. Soon, he was beseeching, "Oh God...please… don't stop." as he felt her graze her tongue under his sac, and over his balls while her hand kept on working his slick shaft, his precum oozing in streams.

Julian had been writhing on the sheets, rapidly exhaling, mewling even, his hands moving from the headboard to clenching the sheets tightly when he felt them itching to grab her head. He moaned out demands, ”Faster…Just like that…Oh yeah…Please…Fuck…God…” only breaking when the waves of pleasure grew too strong, and robbed him of speech. He was getting close, so close; he felt his muscles tensing in his thighs. The tongue between his legs moving back to sucking his balls and then licking his member up to the tip, stroking the underside sensitive flesh and then starting all over again, was too much for him; it was driving him closer to explode, at each passing second. His breathing hitched as he felt a shattering scream rise in his throat, but as it did, one of his hands involuntarily wound up at her neck, grabbing the back of Vi’s hair, and she had abruptly stopped moving. Being lost in the cloudiness of his impending climax, it had taken Julian a full minute to realize what had happened and remove the offending hand while stammering an apology; then forcedly grab the headboard back with both hands, and implore her in a crying voice, to continue. 

He was almost delirious with need.

She had surprised him. His balls and sac were forgotten. While one hand was slowly massaging his pulsating shaft, her tongue had found her way to his perineum, teasing it mercilessly, as one of her finger had begun tickling his rectum. The simultaneous and sudden easing of her finger inside him, combined with a firm squeeze of his shaft’s base, as her moist mouth reclaimed the head, had triggered the most powerful orgasm he’d ever experienced. Julian had cried out, closing his eyes, throwing his head back, a flash of bright white light had eclipsed his vision. The pleasure so intense, nor his mind or his body could handle the strain of it. He felt his hips violently lurch upward as the volcano of his seed erupted, his legs jerk and cramp, tears pricked his eyes, and his mind went black.

He was in complete darkness. Ecstasy had flooded his brain, strong and fast like a hit of heroin.

By the time he came to, the bathroom light was on, dimly illuminating the room, she was cleaning his member and his stomach with a cool cloth which felt like heaven, and handing him a glass of water. He could barely process what had happened, or how long he had been out. He still couldn’t feel his legs, and much less move.

She had gone back to the bathroom, discarding the cloth, turned the light off and brought him another glass after he emptied the first one in a single long gulp.

Only then, she had slipped back against his body, and kissed him goodnight.

Good night, indeed.

Julian smiled. He had learned the true meaning of ‘what is good for the gander is good for the goose’.

He moaned, his member was hard for her. He let his hand move to the side of the bed, seeking her body. Finding an empty space, the sheet actually feeling cool, he finally, opened his eyes. Puzzled, he groaned in dismay as he perused the bed and pillows for some indication he hadn't dreamt last night events, but there was no note or any sign of her.

He got up and examined the room seeking trace of her luggage. Nothing.

He noticed it was 11 am. He clearly had overslept.

Naked, he quickly put on the pair of slacks still lying on the floor from the previous evening; then slowly went down the stairs calling her out, to no avail.

Walking into the kitchen, he finally saw something on the counter.

She had left a note with the simple words:

“Thank you. V.”

Nothing else. No phone number, no name, nothing.

He felt his heart sink, but also incontrollable anger rise inside him and before he could stop, he threw whatever was on the counter to the floor in one sweeping motion, while a wailing sound erupted from his throat.

How could she do this to him? After the night they shared, didn't she know...?

Didn't she realize she changed his life?

Bloody hell! What was he supposed to do now?

Discarding the shattered glass and porcelain on the floor, he ran upstairs looking for his phone.

He called his sister and left a message for her to return.

He went to his bedroom to shower and get dressed, trying to give himself a semblance of normalcy.

He was a determined man. He was Julian McCarty: he would be fine. Damn her!

Returning downstairs, he examined the messy kitchen and decided to forgo food as his stomach was tied in knots. He grabbed a bottle of Evian from the fridge and headed for the living room.

His next calls were for his agent Ari, and business manager, Marcus, telling both he needed a security firm immediately as he had someone to find.

He would make her pay, once he found her!

Who the fuck did she think she was pulling such a stunt on him?!?!!

The rest of the day was a blur to him.

He recalled speaking to Frances telling her they were through and having no patience when she went into hysterics demanding an explanation he was unwilling to give.

He recalled talking to one of his boys, Todd who asked what happened to their plans to hit the clubs and tried to probe as to why he hadn't turn up.

He recalled a conference call regarding a new film he was supposed to star in, but he had to cut it short when the producers realized he “wasn't all there” when asking for his input.

He recalled watching the dailies of a documentary he was producing, but had to stop when he realized the off camera commentary voice reminded him of hers, and he couldn’t bear it.

By 3 o’clock, he was in utter disarray, and wondered if it would always hurt like this when he thought of her.

Marcus rang him back telling him he had hired a professional to solve his problem, and gave him the contact number for a James Marshall.

The man came highly recommended and was curt in his questions. Julian gave him every single detail he could remember and was told he'd have a report in a few days.

He finally called his faithful maid, Consuela, and told her to come immediately instead of the next day as per their usual schedule, as a mess needed her magic touch.

By 4 pm, mentally drained, physically still exerted, Julian decided he needed to rest.

Going back upstairs, he passed the door of the guest room and had to stop.

Looking at the unmade bed, he slowly approached it and sat on the side she slept on.

Holding the pillow to his nose, he could still smell her jasmine perfume, lingering.

Unable to let go of it, he lied down and fell asleep holding it against him.

The persistent ring of his phone awoke him. It was dark all around, and he wondered how long it had been since he fell into Morpheus's arms.

Mumbling as he answered, he realized it was his sister. She bluntly asked him what the emergency was.

He simply stated, “She left.”

“Who?” She enquired.

“Vi, the mystery woman...” He replied in a low voice.

“Oh, well, what's the problem?” She asked with a puzzled tone.

Getting up, he explained, while going downstairs.

By the end, he was chocking on his words, sipping a glass of scotch he had poured for himself.

“I don't know what to do to find her...” his voice trailed shakily.

“Wow, she really did a number on you ...Is anything missing from the house?” Melissa asked, in wonder.

"No, of course not! Why would you ask?” came in an angry tone.

“Well, you don't know anything about her…”She countered, unapologetic.

“Mel...” he said in a warning tone

“Ok, so she's not a thief. Sorry. It's just I don't think I've ever seen you that upset over a woman in a long time, if ever...” She impatiently continued.

“But she is not any woman. She is the One. The few hours she was here, I felt things I've never felt before for anyone including my 2 ex-wives!” He almost yelled.

“Hmm, let's not go there....” she said dubitatively.

“And seeing that note...You should have seen what I've done to my kitchen after reading it! And you know how much I love my kitchen!” He continued, plaintively.

“O.K. now what, then?” she bluntly asked.

“Well, I have a professional looking into it. She could be anywhere for all I know. She's an international traveller. Maybe she flew back to Hong Kong!” He said, despair palpable in his voice, he added, “Any suggestions?“

“At this point, not really. I'm just worried about your state of mind Jul.” Melissa cautiously started, “Maybe, she doesn't want to be found. Have you thought of that? Maybe it was a one off thing, just sex, and you should move on,” she added.

“No Mel.” he interrupted, “You don't feel the way I do over a one night stand! You know me, I'm the fuck them and leave them professional philanderer.” He laughed bitterly then added in a hollow voice “I know she felt it too... Remember when you met Charlie? Well, that love at first sight shit you kept babbling about, this is it Mel...I can't believe this is happening...” his voice broke.

“Hmm…” she murmured softly.

“I think she is married, that's why she left...” He said, in a semi-convinced tone.

“Married? You don't do married women, too many single ones chasing after you as it is...” she chuckled.

“Mel...” came the warning, he was in no mood to banter tonight.

“Alright. Bite me. So, how do you know she's married?” She asked, irritated.

“She has an Irish name, but she's black and doesn't have an Irish accent, her accent is from somewhere else, so there must be an Irish or Scottish husband, that's the only explanation.” He pointed.

“Well, if she's married…” she countered hesitantly, “Maybe upon waking up, she realized her predicament and decided to flee, so she could think about what happened between the two of you? Clearly, if she is indeed married, you can't expect her to leave her husband overnight...” her voice trailed.

“She has to leave him...” He stated adamantly.            

“Jul…” she tried to interrupt him.

“She is mine. I just found her, and I'm not going to lose her. Not without a fight anyway. No fucking way. I don't care who her husband is...” He said, his voice rising, as he was feeling the anger constricting his chest once again.

“She is mine,” he repeated in a tone that bore no contradiction.

“Julian...Please...” she pleaded.

“Look, I've got to go for a swim, I'm all wound up. We'll talk soon. I promise.” He said in a tired voice.

“Julian...” she cut in, trying to reason with him.

“I promise. Thanks for calling back sis. Say hello to Charlie and the girls for me, I've got to go.” and he ended the call.

After a few empty days coupled with restless nights, without any news and finding himself dishevelled and unravelling, Julian decided he needed to get out of the house or he would suffocate.

He had cancelled all his appointments for the rest of the week and even his shoots were rescheduled thanks to Ari who had convinced the studio he was ill.

Julian knew he looked like a sleep-deprived man, as he was, and he considered it unprofessional for anyone to see him like this. He simply wouldn't allow further humiliation.

Damn her!

He decided to go to his beach house in Malibu and invite Marcus and Todd over for much needed banter and boys’ time.

He had spent the past few days trying to decipher his emotions regarding Vi, and the gruelling exercise worn him out. He knew, it wasn't just the sex that made him have these feelings for her. Yes, the sex had been good, strike that, incredible, no, actually spectacular by his very own standards; his body had responded to her in a way it had never done with any other woman, but being bitterly honest with himself, he realized even before touching her, his heart had already made the decision to surrender. For lack of a better explanation, he could only say, he felt like finally coming home, every time he looked at her. And when she looked at him, well, when she looked at him, he felt raw, yet curiously accepted, as if no matter what he did or say, as long as he could get her to look at him as she had, all will be fine in his world. This feeling was indescribable and had no price.

From the 1st time he had laid eyes on her at the airport, he felt protective of her, like she was already his and he was just regaining someone he lost a long time ago.

He needed her back, but until then he had to keep on living.

Being with his mates would ensure a definite improvement of his mood.

Or at least, he hoped.

((~~!~~))

Vi

In the meantime, Vi had gone home. Well, if you could call it that. She was renting a serviced apartment in Santa Monica while in LA, and had been for the past 2 years. But seeing that she was actually out of the country every 3 weeks for 2 months or more each time, she could hardly call it “home”. It was just the place she was staying at.

She had a home, once, a long time ago, but she couldn't think about it now.... Not, when she had more pressing matters to attend to.

No one from her former life knew she was based in LA and she wanted to keep it that way.

Any involvement with Julian McCarty would ruin this the minute any media outlet would link them.

Ethan would find out, and the pieces she had carefully put back together in the past 5 years would shatter once again.

She had called her usual car service the morning she left Julian, making sure she didn't wake him in the process as it was 5 am in the morning and she needed to think about what had transpired between them.

She knew he would not let her leave upon waking up, and her own resolve would be faltering if she saw his blue eyes staring at her.

Besides, she also knew falling in love with him was simply out of the question in spite of her heart telling her it had already happened.

She had given her all to a man once, only to have it thrown back in her face.

She would not make this mistake again.

Never. The price had been too high.

Getting home at 6 am, She felt concerned. She wanted to call him to explain but couldn't find the courage to do it. How would he react upon learning the truth about her?

She wasn't sure; and for her, certainty was paramount in the life she created for herself in the past five years.

So far, she was just a random woman he met at LAX and had his fun with, but what if he found out about Ethan? Not to mention Luca!

Thank God, she didn't give him her last name. He would have made the connection instantly. If there was one thing Julian McCarty was not, it was a fool. He was connected and she knew if he suspected she was linked to Ethan, there was no telling what he would do.

Shaking herself, she went to bed, and fell into a slumber for twelve hours.

Waking up in cold sweat that same evening, she recalled her night with Julian, and realized they hadn't used any protection.

With your luck, you might already be pregnant, said her inner voice.

“Not a chance in hell!” she replied out loud, "or have you forgotten what all the doctors said after Luca? "

She could barely recognize her own voice.

She was shivering in fear. “Well, it happened once, who's to say it won't happen again? History has a funny way to repeat itself!” said the nagging voice.

Vi held her temples shouting, “Please, just shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” tears welling up in her eyes.

I’ll buy a test tomorrow just to make sure, she thought to herself, fear still making her queasy.

She headed to her bathroom, barely standing on her feet.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she saw the same woman she had seen for the past five years.

A survivor. 

“You are fine.“ She said out loud. “Nothing has changed.”

She turned the faucet on to draw herself a bath. She needed to relax, and forget about Julian and whatever it was he made her feel.

Feeling was a luxury she simply could not afford.

Feeling. She was feeling. She needed to regain control. Immediately.

She simply did not feel. Ever. That’s how she managed to live, to function, to survive.

Feeling was the open door to trouble.

She needed to focus on her work, as she had in the past three years. Work never betrayed her. Work didn't hurt. Work had kept her alive, if not content.

Maybe she could take her trip to Dubai earlier instead of in 4 weeks as scheduled?

Yes, she would call her client in a few hours to see if she could leave immediately.

"See?” She smiled to herself, “Everything is fine.”

She placed candles around her tub, thanking the Lord she could afford this little pleasure, poured some Moroccan rose oil in the steaming water, set her ipod on Madame Butterfly, let her silky gown down and slipped into the water.

In the dim light of her bathroom, the water holding and soothing her body like a cocoon, she closed her eyes, and tried to forget the ache she was feeling.

Vi

December 2nd 2000. Circular Quay. Sydney Australia.

They were on the sofa, a cool breeze coming from the opened door balcony overlooking the harbour. He was slowly massaging her feet while she was immersed in her reading.

“Will you marry me? “ he asked softly.

Her head jerked up from her legal brief, her spectacles almost falling off, the gesture being so brusque; she looked straight into his cerulean blue eyes, and asked, “What did you say?“

“Will you marry me?” he repeated.

“Ethan...Is this a joke?” she blurted, gasping.

“No Vic, you know I love you, I know you love me. We've been together for over a year, and I don't see myself with anyone else, ever... so I think it's time I make it official...” he explained, caressing her legs.

“You know I'm flying to New York tomorrow night for 3 weeks...” She replied, her voice trailing off, getting distracted by the circles he was drawing on her flesh.

“About that...How would you feel about moving permanently to Sydney?“ he asked, hesitantly.

"Is this what this proposal is about? You want me to move here?” she slowly retorted, suspiciously.

“Babe, of course I want you to move here! This is where I live, but no, I'm not proposing because of that. I love you. I need you. I want you to be my wife, the mother of my children. I mean it. Think about it. You always say you want a family, as do I, but we can't start until we are married...You always say you want to set roots somewhere, because you are sick of feeling like you belong nowhere... Well, baby this is what I'm offering you...We're not getting any younger...” He trailed, letting his arguments linger in the air.

“Ethan, I say a lot of things. I'm 27 years old, I have my dream job at the UN in New York, and you knew this when we met...I'm barely starting my career. Besides, I don't know anyone in Australia, except you and your mother who, by the way will not be thrilled when she hears about this...What would I do here? ” She argued.

“You'll be my wife! You're a lawyer! You could do any type of work or not work at all! Whatever you’d want sweetheart! Hell, you can even be a socialite or a full time lady of leisure...if you wish!” he passionately countered, “Money will never be an issue…so you really can do whatever you want.” he smiled, winking at her.

“Ethan...” she sighed, pouting, her hand running through her wavy hair, dishevelling her ponytail.

“Vic. Please…” He shook his head; trying to stop the opposing argument he knew was coming and added, ”I'm 33. I have aspirations to one day be in charge of this country. I need a woman by my side, and right now, you are the woman I love. I need to know you are committed to this relationship...”

“Ethan...I...” She tried to interrupt.

“Look...” He held his hand up, stopping her from talking, and said, ”I've been groomed my entire life for this. The elections are next year, and I will be the Premier of New South Wales providing all goes according to plan. This will only be the beginning baby...” He smiled. “My days of having different women in my arms stopped the day I met you in The Hague over a year ago. You mesmerized me then, and you do even more now. I simply need to marry you. Please.”

He looked at her with pleading eyes. He loved her. She knew this with every fibre of her being, but marriage? To a politician, no less?

Never mind Ethan was a talented lawyer and the son of a mining industrialist letting his own company be run by other lawyers and MBA holders; he lived and breathed for politics. He was one of the youngest members of the house, and by all accounts was destined to leave his mark on the Australian national political arena in the years to come.

"I'll think about it.” she capitulated.

“That's all I ask... for now.” He said embracing her, and caressing her wrist. He knew, that simple touch would make her weak.

((~~!~~))

That night, as they were in bed, and Ethan lay next to her, asleep, she started to think about her life.

She was 27, soon 28, and Ethan was the first man she truly loved, body, spirit and soul. He was by all account the love of her life, whatever the expression meant.

She had already proved her love for him by coming to Sydney that first time last year, only six weeks after meeting him at a cocktail party organized aside a conference at the International Court of Justice in The Hague where she was presenting.

Meeting him, she was charmed by his Australian accent and his wit. His physical beauty was of course immediately attractive, but she had met and slept with plenty of aesthetically gifted men before, so there was nothing new there. What had been was his air of dangerousness that intrigued her, coupled with his relentless pursuit of her after they had their first time.

The intimacy they shared. What they did to each other, the way their bodies responded to each other. A new world had opened for them both, from their first night. She became complete as he gave her something she didn’t know she had been missing her entire life.

Their first kiss had been violent. Their coupling, urgent, unrelenting, unforgettable.

After the party, being the perfect gentleman, he had accompanied her back to the Intercontinental where she was staying for the duration of the conference. They had had a romantic dinner and a final drink at the bar, and then she had taken the elevator to go to her room. Alone.

As she had been fidgeting with the electronic key to open the door, she had felt his presence behind her. She had tuned and looked at him, expectantly. No words were exchanged; He had just pushed the door open.

He took her lips and she nearly drew blood, biting his tongue and digging her nails into the back flesh of his neck. He responded in kind, pushing her against the door, holding both her wrists above her head with one strong hand while pressing his hardness into her body as his free hand slid her dress up and in a single motion, ripped her underwear before he lifted her leg around his waist. She moaned into his mouth as she felt one of his fingers graze her clit and apply hard pressure to it, as another entered her core. She whimpered when his tongue left her mouth to reach the crook of her neck, only to bite it, as his hard member penetrated her in one swift, determined stroke.

Under his ferocious touch, a side of her she didn’t know she had, had awakened. Irrevocably.

"Oh...God...yes," she had hissed, accepting him completely as he fucked her with deep and brutal strokes. Her essence, her spirit, her total consciousness flowed down to the hard and pulsating part of his body between her legs. Every sensation was centred on his heavily veined member plowing in out of her clinging cunt. In and out, he drove himself into her again and again, striving to make them one.

The top of her dress open, her nipples, getting chewed between his teeth in complete rhythm with her hands holding and pulling his hair equally matching harmonically each stroke from his body into hers; her sanity snapped, and only the fire in his pounding mattered.

Time stopped as she and he fucked and fucked.

“Mine,” he had claimed her, taking her mouth again, when she reached her first climax, as if his only purpose in life was to bring pleasure to her. As he had continued to hammer himself into her with boundless energy, he had been rewarded again when her body violently trembled and writhed against him as she had climaxed for the second time. Not slowing a beat, he had continued to pound, deeper and harder, without pause. Her cunt was full of him, sweat poured down her neck and breasts, as he continued to lick, bite, and suck so hard, her flesh was almost raw. Yet, she found herself whimpering and moaning against his neck, urging him on, uncontrollably.  Finally, she had felt him explode inside the clenching, squeezing, clutching core of her womanhood.

Pleasure, so pure, so intense it hurt, had burst upon her brain filling her with agony and ecstasy at the same time. He had cried out “ Mine” with tears his eyes, as they had looked at each other, almost mystified by the intensity of what had occurred. “Yours” she had surrendered, crying into his ear, as they clung to each other while the spasms subsided.

He had spent the rest of the night getting acquainted with every inch of her body.

Their affair was intense, unconventional, consuming.

Yet, they needed more, and now, he wanted to make it official.

((~~!~~))

She was beautiful and knew it. It was her eyes, gold, green and a hint of silver, a shade resulting from the combination of her mother’s Spanish and Swedish descent, and father’s African ancestry. Adding, smooth luminous skin, a button nose, long shinning curls, and a slender figure, curvy in all the right spots; she was all woman, destined to tun heads.

From the age of 3, her father told her he had to prevent boys from harassing her at the pre-school. And after yet another barrette pulling incident, him and her mother sent her to an all girls Parisian catholic boarding school at age 7, so she could develop the talents she was already showing as a child. She had a younger brother, Deric, whom she would only see during the weekends or the holidays until she turned 15.

Being alone at school, she grew up hedging barriers to protect herself. She was the only colored girl and she was the smartest student. Teachers loved her, while her classmates detested her. Too smart, too pretty, too much, was something she heard daily. She only had one girlfriend during her entire time there; Lily, an American girl from New York, whose parents had also sent there because they were too busy with their international jet setting to educate her. The fact that both their mothers were Spanish sealed their bond. They were sisters.

This had been the only lasting bond she experienced in her life thus far, apart from her brother, and of course her dearest friend, Kevin.

She met Kevin at The International High School in Paris, yet another private school, but at least a mixed one.

Her mother had died suddenly from an aneurism at the age of 41. She was 15 and fought with her father to be released from the all girls’ school.

She wanted her independence and wanted to be legally emancipated so she could claim her mother's inheritance and start living her life on her own terms, he compromised by allowing the change of school.

Being surrounded by teenage males on a daily basis for the first time, she found out on her own that her beauty attracted them. They didn't care that she was smart, only beautiful. She took advantage of it and started to explore her sexuality. Kevin was the exception. Being strikingly aesthetically beautiful himself and totally uninterested in his appearance or hers, he understood her and they connected on a level she never had experienced before with the opposite sex, including with her own brother. During their 2 years there, he protected her, kept encouraging her, and ultimately became her first and only male friend. Her best friend.

At 17, after being accepted at the same business school, he asked her to move in with him in the empty penthouse his father owned next to the Trocadero. His parents being divorced, his father lived in DC where he worked at the World Bank, while his mother lived in her chateau in Burgundy. He was on his own, and convinced her he could use her company. For the next 8 years, he was her confidant, he saw her through everything, as she did him. Lovers came and went, years passed, diplomas were celebrated, jobs taken, and Lily visited every year for a couple of months at times.

They all grew into fairly well adjusted adults, considering the circumstances, promising each other we would always be there for one another.

It was 1998. At 25, the world was at their feet.

((~~!~~))

You know the saying “Man plans, God laughs.“ 

Well, it couldn't have been truer in our case.

The first fissure in my friendship with Kevin happened when he met his first serious girlfriend: Serena. At 25, Kevin had only slept with only a handful of women, contrary to yours truly who had spent a lot of time experimenting, and he never had been in love.

Funnily enough, my brother Deric was the one who made the introduction. He had been modelling since he was 16 after quitting school, stating it wasn't for him when there was so many more interesting things to do in life than learning useless things!

Serena was a 22 years old blonde beauty from Italy, and Kevin fell for her. Hard. I couldn't stand her. Don't ask me why, I couldn't answer. Kevin sensed it in the first few months of their relationship and then knew it for certain when I openly told him right before moving out of our apartment as I was leaving for Geneva where I would start my internship at the UN European headquarters while finishing my master degree in international law. From then on, distance and my inability to force myself to tolerate his girlfriend created a rift between us.

At 25, I felt alone, once again.

Of course, Deric was there with the weekly phone calls, but it simply wasn't the same. Lily had returned to the US, was in medical school, and in her fourth year; she couldn't visit anymore in spite of wanting to.

Working became my best friend.

Meeting Ethan was like a breath of fresh air swirling into my life. He was interested in me. Not because I was beautiful, but because of my spirit, and our chemistry was just indescribable. It was my turn to fall, hard. When I asked him if he ever dated a black woman he told me he was color blind, which I found hysterical at the time, not knowing it was true!

Too bad his fellow countrymen weren't. But I would only learn this much later.

The romance between Ethan and I was intense from the start, but reached high gear when he asked me to accompany him back to Australia almost a year prior to today. It was December 1999, we had known each other less than 2 months, and he convinced me I would have the time of my life celebrating the world's entry into the new millennium in Sydney. He was about done with the contracts, he had been working on in London, and simply stated: he wasn’t leaving Europe without me in his luggage.

“Trust Me,” he said. “You'll never want to leave.” his Australian accent always had the effect to make me weak in the knee and he knew it. And then, he would come to Geneva and use his personal charm to convince me to go with him. Making the same demand over and over and cajoling me every chance he got, I finally relented. We had only been on a handful of dates since our meeting because we were located in different countries, but each were intense, unforgettable, always leaving us wanting more. He rang me on a daily basis, morning and evening, making me crave his voice, and his presence in my life.

Kevin had broken up with Serena a few months back upon finding her heavily kissing another man in a club, and we somehow reconnected via more regular phone calls, so when came the time to decide if I would go down under, he was the person I rang for advice.

I had already told him about Ethan, and how I had strong feelings for the Australian- never mind the fact that before him, Australia simply was not on my radar at all - but I was afraid of taking this relationship too seriously because in the end, the man was based on the other side of the world.

Kevin convinced me to go, arguing that Ethan was making me happy, and at the worst if things didn't work out, I could always say “I went to Sydney,“ which was more than most European could or would say. The final clincher was winter; Geneva, where I lived at the time was getting colder by the day and the snow wasn't letting up, wouldn't it be nicer to be strolling on a Sydney beach?

I caved. I was going on my first trip to Australia.

I stayed nearly 2 months instead of the 2 weeks I had originally planned. Ethan went all out being my tour guide, partner in crime, counsel, friend and my lover. For the first time of my life, I actually felt wanted, supported and loved, completely and unconditionally. For the first time, I was needed. Australia was the most beautiful place I had ever seen and Sydney was growing on me, trying to displace Paris as my hometown.

Somehow, I had utterly fallen in love with Ethan and his country. But eventually after postponing several times, I had to leave to go back to my life and my work. The time for champagne dinners, cruises on the harbour and endless love making nights had to halt, and reality set in.

He had to go back attending to his administration, and I was headed for New York to start my new job at the UN international law commission.

Our relationship had blossomed so much in the next couple of months, that we flew at every opportunity we had to see each other. Daily phone calls were not enough. We both physically ached being apart. Weekends in Hong Kong, Bali, St.Lucia, or London were a common occurrence for us. Whichever city was the mid point of where our work was taking us, we would meet in and barely leave our hotel room. Each encounters more intense, more demanding of permanency. Distance made our love stronger, making leaving each other a bit harder every time. Our involvement was surprisingly kept under the radar. In spite of being in the public eye at home, Ethan private life was a non-event as far as his colleagues and local friends knew. This suited me just fine, as I was a very private person, only looking for recognition through my work, and with no desire to ever make the society pages.

Now, here I was almost a year later, with the man I loved sleeping next to me, and in turmoil about what the right decision was. I had grown accustomed of waking up with Ethan there, accustomed to how a simple caress would make me crave him, accustomed to the highs, to his glowing eyes as he came inside me, making me his a little bit more every time. I couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping next to him, only to have it ripped away because I needed to leave... again.

I was hooked.

((~~!~~))

All this introspection had made me thirsty, and I got up silently to get some water.

With my drink in hand, instead of returning to bed, I ended up on the balcony of Ethan's penthouse. It was a full moon, and the view was simply magnificent. Being on the top floor of the building, I had the bridge and the city at my feet. I couldn't hear any noise, and pondered if I truly belonged here. I prayed the answer would come to me.

I don't know how much time passed. The Sydney Harbour Bridge entranced me. It was majestic. Looking at it, I thought I could almost touch it. I felt at peace. I was home. Could I live here and be happy? I hoped so. I simply couldn't face the alternative. Losing Ethan was not an option.

As I was about to turn from the view to go inside, Ethan arms enveloped me, holding me tight against him and the railing.

I leaned against his chest, sighed softly and said, “E?” “Yes, baby?” he murmured in my ear, then kissing my shoulder blade, “I'll cancel the trip. I'll marry you.” I said, praying it was the right decision.

He touched my wrist, swirling me around in his arms, and looking at me, eyes glowing, said in a low, husky voice, “Let’s celebrate…I know just the way…”

December 4th 2000. Darling Point. Sydney, Australia.

Julian

He slammed the door and headed for his Mercedes. He's had enough!

Fuck it! Fuck her! Fuck this Goddamn country!

Why, oh why did he think it would be any different this time around?

I'm 33 years old, for fuck's sake.  Does she really think she can boss me around? !!

Fuck!

He truly had a love - hate relationship with Australia. And it all came down to his mother.

It was his home, but every time he was here, he felt like he couldn't be himself, he couldn't breathe.

Born and raised in Sydney, Julian was the typical prodigal son, the 1st and only son of Peter McCarty and Lady McCarty.

All hopes and expectations resting on his shoulders.

Some would consider this hazard of life as a blessing. For him, it was a curse!

His late Grandfather Michael McCarty had been the heir of an industrial empire back in the old country and moved to Australia with his young wife Sally in the hope of expending the family fortune in this new territory. It was the late 40's, the country was on an economic boom and every hope Michael had was fulfilled. His marital union only produced one child, Peter, but it was enough to perdure the family name and ensure descendants for the McCarty clan.

Peter was a shy child, always engrossed in his books, with little interest for the business, but as his growing years went by, with the best education and social circles money could provide, he developed a keen interest in politics, and by the age of 22 became the youngest elected member of the legislature.

His father, getting old made him aware of his only wish for the future: see his son get married, and produce children before he reached the grave.

Being of a shy and somewhat introverted nature, Peter didn't have a clue as to which woman would meet his father's demands, but he was resolute in finding her.

As fate would have it, one of his political mentors, George O'Brady had a daughter of marrying age. He introduced him to Helen, and Peter was smitten at first sight.

Helen who has had her social introduction in the previous year and had yet to find a potential husband, saw her chance, and decided she would become his wife.

Peter was a sweet, tempered, charming man, and he was a McCarty, which meant she could and would become the socialite she always wanted to be.

Being the daughter of a politician, she was savvy and used to a certain lifestyle, but she knew being Peter's wife would give her access to unlimited funds and increase her social profile to a new level. Of course, she would support any political ambition Peter had, but being his wife would be enough for her.

Within 3 years of marriage, Melissa and Julian were born. Within 7 years, Peter's party won the general federal elections, and he was sworn in as Prime minister of Australia.

A position that remained his until a few months before his death; some twenty odd years later.

Moving into Kirribilli House, the official Prime Minister residence was the start of Helen's life. She decided to send the children to boarding school, so she could finally focus on being the 1ere Dame of the country. Over the years, Peter's party kept being re-elected, Peter cementing his position of Prime minister at home and international figure abroad. While travelling all over the world with her husband, Helen became a fashion icon, a permanent fixture in the best circles, and all but forgot to be a mother to her children. Of course, she saw them during the school holidays but to say that their relationship was nurturing or loving would be an overstatement.

Melissa and Julian only had each other for moral support, and while their father did his very best to love his children when he saw them, it simply never replaced nor compensated the lack of maternal warmth and love.

His responsibility was to the country first.

Julian was particularly affected by his parents’ absence and kept getting into trouble years after years, school after school. His grades were fine- countless reports called him “an intelligent young man, but with restless tendencies “ making him the black sheep of the family while Melissa, though cynical in her wit when she examined their situation, had a calmer temperament.

By the age of 16 Melissa had decided she would study architecture and design in Europe, while Julian still 14 would finish school in Sydney.

Whatever Julian did, it would never be good enough for his mother. Realizing this at a very young age, as she would always compare him to her friend’s children, particularly Ethan McGregor, the son she wished he were; he grew tired of trying to get her attention by any wicked means he could think of, and swore to himself, he would leave home as soon as the first opportunity presented itself. He loved his father dearly as the man always showed interest in him and kindness when he was around, but he simply wouldn't bear to be around his mother more than necessary as the years went by.

Luckily, he didn't have to wait until he was of age for the fortunate break to occur. Having inherited the smarts of his father and grandfather, he was enrolled at Sydney law school at 17. While his best friend and nemesis Ethan McGregor involved himself in students’ politics, Julian decided to put his blessed dashing looks and an extravert personality to use. He was invited to all parties, including the undergrounds, and incidentally met a British scouting agent at one of them.

This was his ticket out. He convinced his father to allow him one year off studying, and promised that if he weren’t successful, he would obediently return home, go to university to obtain a degree, become a lawyer and take over the family business.

Fortunately he never had to find out if he would have made good on his word, as after landing in London, within 2 months, he was on the runway of Paris and Milan before heading to New York which would become his principal place of residence for the next 5 years when he wasn't working in Europe.

Life had been kind to Julian. With he newfound financial and emotional independence, he became the go to model after cementing a golden contract with Calvin Klein at 21. Women were available aplenty and he explored as many as he could. He didn't really know what being in love was, but the 1st time he was smitten long enough to have an actual relationship that lasted over 2 months, he thought love was it, and he married the girl in Vegas without even informing his family until the marriage had been consummated and reported in the newspapers.

Only then, He rang his parents informing them they had a daughter in law, she was a mildly famous pop singer, and that was all there was to it!

His mother was appalled, and for the umpteenth time in his life told him he was an embarrassment, and she wished he could be more like his best friend, his brother from another mother, his nemesis, her socialite best friend, Mary's son: Ethan McGregor.

“I simply don't understand where we went wrong with you Julian. You and Ethan, come from the same cloth, went to the same schools, grew up together, you are the son of the prime minister, which gives you something no one else has, yet, you don't see him half naked on posters...! He's destined to do great things. What are you...” her voice had trailed off.

“Goodbye mother.” he hanged up, and didn't speak to her until she called him 3 years later announcing his father was ill and demanded to see him.

In the meantime, his marriage has been a complete failure, and he was divorced 7 months later, at the ripe age of 23.

Not deterred by this little blip on his road to success, He used some of the money earned while modelling investing it in industries close to his heart. Having taught himself cooking while in Italy and enjoying it immensely, he bought his first restaurant. Within 18 months, 1 turned into 3, and within 5 years, it was a franchise with establishments in the hippest cities in the world, from Miami to Tokyo.

Sydney was the last one opening, so he came home as his father was dying, with the hope of reaching some sort of peace treaty with his mother.

He thought in light of his financial success, she would somehow show some pride in her son.

He was wrong. So, he left home once again, and orphan this time, even more determined to become more successful than what her narrow mind would allow.

He wasn't interested in politics, never had, and actually had severed all ties with the Sydney political circles after his last visit home because he found their members conservative, boring and predictable, and from the comments his mother made, there was no love lost on their side either. His former classmates despised him apparently. His choice of career making him a laughing stock. Even Ethan had somehow disappeared on him. Well truth was he was the one who ceased to call him as Ethan had always been like and older brother he couldn’t face disapproval or disappointment from. He had looked eternally amused by Julian latest antics.

Fuck them all!

He wanted excitement in his life, wasn't going to apologize for his wants, and being a politician was too limiting for him. Not to mention, why would he want to return to Australia when he was living in the most exciting city in the world; New York!

He had a good business mind, and decided to keep using it. His father having passed on, McCarty industries were his to manage if he wanted.

Now, here he was, back at home; only there to attend his sister wedding the next day and not even 10 hours within his arrival the arguing with his mother put him on the brink of packing it up.

He had landed late the previous night, and went straight to the proverbial family home. Waking up at 8 am, he met Melissa in the kitchen as she was pouring herself some coffee while his mother was on the phone- no doubt, he thought, with one of her snooty friends – having an animated conversation punctuated with ohhs and ahhs.

Upon ending the call, she looked at her only son and said, “Good morning Julian. We are glad, you could make it.”  “Mother,” was his curt reply. He sat, and poured himself some coffee, waiting.

It didn't take long. His mother smiled and said with pride in her voice, “Well, that was Mary on the phone. You'll never guess what! Ethan is getting married! To a lawyer no less! He proposed yesterday apparently...How exciting isn't it? You might want to follow....” She stated in a joyful tone.

He erupted.

“Mother you sound like a broken record. I am not Ethan, will never be Ethan and quite frankly do not give a flying fuck about Ethan getting married, or whatever else he's doing these days! I haven't seen or spoken to him in years, and wished you would let this go, but since you won't, I'll go for a drive....”

He kissed Melissa on the cheek and headed for the door.

I'll be on the 1st plane out after the ceremony, was his thought while violently slamming the door.

Vi

She had fallen asleep in the bathtub while remembering at what point in her life she took the wrong turn.

Accepting Ethan's proposal.

Shaking the cold water off her body, she pulled a fluffy Egyptian towel, and went to her kitchen to get a glass of wine.

Looking at the clock she realized 3 hours had passed.

Crap! It's almost midnight!  Well, it's actually perfect! You can make that call!

She went to her bedroom, slipped her flannel pjs on, returned to the kitchen to get her wine, rummaged into her bag to get her one of her cell phones, her notebook and her cigarettes case, and headed for her little terrace.

Settling herself comfortably on her chaise longue, she looked up at the stars.

She had always loved looking at the sky at night, ever since she had moved in with Kevin. The penthouse had a fantastic view of the Eiffel tower, and she recalled with affection the countless nights her and her best friend had spent there, talking, drinking and smoking cigarettes well into the nights.

These memories always lifted her spirits, and that's what she needed tonight.

I need to call him, she thought.

She opened her notebook, scrolled through her blackberry to get the number she wanted, closed her eyes for a minute in order to focus, and pressed dial.

“Hello?” a male voice answered.

“Good afternoon. Salam Malekoum. Victoryn McGregor for Mr Harami, please.” She said, pleasantly.

“One moment. Hold please,” was gently replied.

“Hello Victoryn! How are you?“  Sheikh Al Ben Harami exclaimed.

“I am well, thank you.” She said, relaxing in her seat.

“I am surprised to hear from you. Has something happened? Please don't tell me you are calling to cancel.... We have been working on this for 8 months already, and changing counsel in the final run will not do...” he stated with dread in his voice.

“No, not all. On the contrary, actually. I was wondering if I could come earlier. I have unexpected free time as of today and figured I might as well get us a head start.“ she replied in a reassuring tone, smiling.

“I know the final contract will be signed in 5 weeks as scheduled but since I'm free, I think it couldn't hurt to be there and hammer out the final details of the negotiations…” her voice trailed.

“This will give you extra time just in case...” she punctuated.

“Well...” he hesitantly started.

“I wouldn't change my fee of course, and you would be doing me a great favour by accepting...” she added in a cajoling tone.

She started to smile, as she knew he was about to accept having her around for free for 4 weeks.

Sometime, you have to spend money to get some peace.

I simply can't be here and think of Julian.

Never mind, Sheikh Al Ben Harami would no doubt exhaust her asking every legal question he could under the sun now that he knew he wouldn't have to pay for it, but what mattered was to leave LA as soon as possible.

She would call Emirates in the morning and be on her way to Dubai by the evening.

She lit up a cigarette, sipped some wine and pressed 1 on her phone.

“Allo?” was said in a bright tone.

“It's me.” She said exhaling.

“Hey baby girl, how are you? Where are you? Still in Hong Kong?” he said, clearly happy to hear her voice.

“No, actually I'm back in LA since yesterday. I'm flying to Dubai tomorrow, well, today, your time...” she replied casually, even though she knew, this state of affairs was far from it.

“Jesus! Doesn't your body ache? Correct me if I'm wrong but isn't the flight from HK to LA like 15 hours? Now you're telling me you're going to Dubai. Girl, what is it with you and planes?! ...You should have gone straight there...“ he laughed.

“Kev, my body aches, but not because of the flying.” she replied seriously.

Her tone stopped his laughter.

“Vi, what's wrong? Are you sick again?“ He asked cautiously, already bracing himself for the worst.

“No. Not that I know of anyway. That reminds me I need to call Lily...” She said while making a note on her notebook.

“Vi, what's wrong then?” he enquired again.

“I had sex yesterday.” She stated in a calm voice.

There was a long blank pause on both ends.

She heard him clear his throat, and then he repeated lowly, “You had sex yesterday.”

“Yes.” was confirmed.

“How? Who with? Didn't you fly in yesterday?” He blurted out.

“I did fly in yesterday. I met someone, and we had sex.” She replied, smiling.

“Vi...” He started hesitantly.

"Yes?” she asked, knowing he was trying to form a coherent thought.

“I don't know what to say.” He admitted.

“Then, don't say anything. Just be happy to know I can still do this.” She said softly.

“I never doubted you could! I'm just shocked it happened now!” He retorted. “It's been years Vi! You’re the one who sworn off men!” he continued, “The first two years, it was understandable as you were trying to regain your bearings after all that's happened; by the 3rd year, Lil and I were begging you and tried to incite you to do the deed at least once just for ...Shall I say maintenance purposes?” He cleared his throat, embarrassed, “But we gave up on the fourth year, coming to terms with the fact you'd never let another man touch you ever again… but now? It's been over 5 years Vi!” he exclaimed, in sheer stupor.

She closed her eyes, inhaled from her cigarette and said cheerfully, “Kev. I had sex, but that’s' not why I'm calling...”

“Girl, are you crazy?” He joyously screamed, ”This is cause for a call! I'll be ringing Lil in a minute, we need to celebrate your return amongst the sinners!”

She laughed. He'd never change!

“Kev, I never stopped being a sinner,” she said seriously.

“So tell me, who is the lucky bastard who got to experience your 1st time?” he interrupted her, with glee.

She braced herself and said flatly, “Julian McCarty.”

“What? I must be hearing things...Did you say Julian McCarty, as in Julian McCarty, the actor?” He asked, shocked.

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“Fuck!” He grunted.

“You can say that again.” She asserted, shaking her head.

“Holy fuck!“ He repeated.

She smiled. You could always count on Kev to emphasize things!

“Kev. Stop it!” She giggled.

“Sugar, one could say you rebounded into life with a bang!” He sang, “Julian McCarty?!” he whistled. “Lil will be impressed!” he concluded laughing heartily.

“Kev...” She started.

“Ok, ok...So you had sex with Julian McCarty but that's not why you called, so what is it?” he said more seriously.

“Actually, the sex part is not why I rang. Who he is, that’s the problem.” She stated.

“You mean because he's an actor? Because he's worldwide famous?” He enquired, curious.

“There's that, but that's not only who he is...” She cautiously said.

“I'm not sure I follow you here...I mean sure, he's famous and you'll need to get used to that once again, but what's the problem?” he chimed.

“Did you know Julian is Australian?” She asked

“Umm...I guess. Must have read it in one of the rags... but...” his voice trailed

“He is, he the son of a prime minister.” She sighed, adding, ”The longest standing one, ever… to be more precise.”

“Ok...” he said in a puzzled tone.

“He grew up in Sydney, where Ethan did.” She said firmly.

“Oh...” was murmured.

“Yeah, oh is right. They know each other. Very well. Or at least they used to...” She said in one breath.

“Oh...” he repeated in a low voice.

“Fuck Kev, stop saying ‘oh’ like a bloody moron, I need some advice here!” she sighed, frustrated with his inability to catch on.

“Well, what the hell do you want me to say?” he shouted.

“Nothing.“ she softly sighed.

There was a pause, and then he asked, “Vi? Does he know who you are?” He asked, as if suddenly understanding the ramifications of the encounter.

“No. I don't think so.” She replied slowly.

“For sure?” he reiterated.

“Yes. I didn't give him my name.” She asserted.

“You're safe then. He doesn't need to know. Do you plan to see him again?” he exhaled.

“No. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll never get involved with another man. And, if I did, definitely not this one!!” she cried out, her voice rising.

“Well, if you didn't tell him, and he didn't suspect it, no one will tell him. You had your romp; it's done and dusted. None will be the wiser," he retorted.

“I pray you are right.” she sighed.

“Vi?” he said tentatively.

“Yes?” she whispered

“You are fine. You are safe. He will not find you,” he added steadily.

“If he did Kev...” her voice trailed.

“Well, he hasn't so far, and with the amount of travelling you have done in the past few years, good luck to him! And you haven't set foot in Australia ever since...” he paused, sighed heavily, and growled, “Never mind.... If that bastard dares to come anywhere near you again, I will make sure his career isn't the only thing he loses this time!”

“You said he swore…”She started, but cut her train of thought, and went on with, “Kev… Ethan is a very determined man. Why on earth do you think he refused to grant me a divorce?” she asked, feeling her stomach grip.

“Water under the bridge, babe. You may still carry his name and after all, you earned it considering the price you paid, but you are divorced...Thank God for the Caribbeans...” He said in a cheerful tone.

“I'm just scared he finds out I'm out here. That's why I'm leaving tomorrow. I need to go, just in case...I can't take that chance, specially when I don't know if Julian and him are as close as they used to, and are on speaking terms.” she finished, determination in her voice.

“Lord, you really know how to pick them!”  He chuckled.

“Fuck Kev, that's not even remotely funny...” She yelled.

“You’ve got to admit, it's a damn coincidence though!” he continued, laughing, “The first man you sleep with after 5 years of abstinence, in a different country, strike that, different continent no less, is one of your ex best buddies? Shit, I would laugh if it wasn't happening to you!"

"Ugh, you're impossible!" She couldn’t help the smile creeping on her face.

“Yes, I know, but you still love me” he countered, then added, ” ...On a more serious note, take all your passports with you, just in case you don't come back to LA.”

“I always do.” She replied seriously.                                                         

“Good girl. I trained you well.” He said, reassured.

“Fear is a great motivator Kev, but thanks!” she replied sarcastically.

There was a silent pause until he said in a light tone, “Can I ask you something?”

She could hear the smile in his voice and knew what was coming...

“Go ahead. Ask,” she sighed, knowing she had to indulge him.

“How was it? How was the sex?” he asked in a low tone.

She couldn't find her voice for a few second as the images flashed before her eyes.

“Baby look at me...

I want you watch me taste you...”

She heard Julian's voice as clear as if he was there with her now.

“The sex was incredible.” She whispered.

“I'm happy for you. You deserved it.” He said warmly.

“Thank you.” she paused, “For everything...” she added, emotional, thanking God for her best friend.

“You realize we've been talking for over an hour…”he cleared his throat, and added, 

“You need to get to sleep; you have a long day tomorrow. Call when you get to Dubai?”

“I will.” she promised

“I love you,“ he reassured her.

“I love you too.” She hung up, feeling back in control of her life.

She finished her wine, brushed her teeth and went to bed.

Julian's words still playing in her head.

((~~!~~))

The next morning at 9.30 am, her ticket was booked. She was showered and dressed. Her bags packed and her driver waiting downstairs. She perused her living room one last time to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, shut the lights and opened her door...

Only to be faced by what could only be described as a shady character, standing there, blocking her path. The man was dressed in black leather clothing from head to toe and spotted a menacing smirk on his somewhat youngish but handsome face.

Anger and fear rising within her, she tilted her head, eyebrows risen and gasped in shock:

“Who the hell are you?”

“James Marshall.” came the calm reply.

Julian

7 days. 7 fucking days. 6 long restless nights. Over 150 hours and counting...

To say Julian was pissed was an understatement.

“Fuck Marcus! Are you sure about this?“ He almost screamed into his blackberry.

“Jay, you've got to calm down...I swear. The man is reliable. I've used him in the past and he always delivers...” he heard his friend sigh heavily.

“How much am I paying this asshole?” He spouted in an angry tone.

“5k...5k/day plus incidentals.” Marcus asserted as calmly as he could.

Julian exhaled loudly and retorted angrily, “And for that kind of cash, the prick can't even answer his goddamn phone?!?!! For all I know, he's getting tanned on a fucking beach in Baja on my dime!”

“Look, there must be a reason he's not answering. Let me try to see what I can dig out from Mercy Inc., and I'll call you back, ok? In the meantime man, pull yourself together, we've got a board members’ meeting this arvo, and you must attend.” Marcus stated.

Julian threw the phone against the wall.

Where the fuck was she? What was going on here?!

People didn't just vanish into thin air!

The first 2 days after she left had been awful, no matter what he tried to distract his thoughts from her would only keep him afloat for a few instants.

He swam, tried to focus on some work as he had tons of business reports and scripts to read, watched mindless TV, but to no avail; he couldn't focus more than a few minutes at a time.

On the 3rd day he called Marcus and Todd, almost begging them to come to the Malibu house.

The day had gone great; well, much better than the previous anyway, and by the evening he was feeling a bit more like himself, more in control. For the first time since she had left him, he was able to sleep through the night without waking up every few hours.

On day 4, he was determined to chalk up the whole thing as an unfortunate event and felt blessed to be the man he was, Julian McCarty, God's gift to women, ruthless businessman, and idol to the masses; and it would be a cold day in hell before any woman could make him grovel for her attention.

Who the hell was she? Just some bitch he had a moment of weakness with.

On day 5, He had his bearings back. He could go home in the Hills, and resume his life.

Yeah, just one more day at the beach house, just to be sure.

On day 6, it was time to go home. He was back in control. He was ready, indeed.

Victoryn who? He thought with a grin.

Locking the door of the Malibu house he headed for his car. He would be home in an hour, and all would be fine.

She'd only be a memory. A distant one. A Lemony Snicket.

He chuckled. He was over her. Definitely.

Already relaxed in his car, whistling, as he was driving home, his phone rang. He put it on speaker and said, “Hello?”

“Hey Jul!” said a chirpy voice.

“Hey Mel!” he smiled.

“So what's up little bro? Are we feeling better? Did you find her?” She asked in a singing tone.

He felt his hands tighten on the steering wheel.

“No,” he said flatly.

“No what? You're not feeling better? Or No, you didn't find her?” she asked, puzzled.

“I didn't find her.” he replied in a cold voice.

“Really? Didn't your guy come up with anything at all? It's been a week, that's odd!” She added.

“Mel, I know exactly how long it has been, but it doesn't matter anyway, I don't care if he finds her or not,” said his icy voice.

Melissa knew this coldness could only mean one thing.

She hesitated but said, “Jul?”

“Yes?” he said curtly.

“Don't...” she started.

“Don't what?” He asked.

“Shut down...” she finished.

“I'm not shutting down. I’m driving home, and I'm just fine,” He replied in a clipped tone.

“Julian...” she said, irritated.

“What?” he shouted, a pout on his lips.

“I know you. This has happened before. Do I need to remind you how you acted after the Belinda episode?”

“Don't fucking dare to compare that bitch to Vi...” he uttered, anger rising

There was a long silent pause until he whispered, contrite, “I'm sorry.“

“I know,” she said softly, adding, “You'll find her, you know...”

He cleared his throat and said with a sad voice, “I know. I just don't know how much longer I can wait...”

“Well, the day isn't over, maybe you'll get news tonight!” his sister replied in a cheerful tone.

“Sure,” he said, realizing that James hadn't rang him back in the past 5 days. He was already thinking about ripping the man a new one.

“Ok, well, keep me posted. And Julian?” Melissa asked tentatively.

“Hmm?” he murmured.

“I love you.” she said with conviction.

“I love you too.” he replied tenderly, grateful for his sister’s existence.

He finally pulled in his front of his house. Inhaling, he opened the door and was greeted by his dogs. He went to the kitchen and stopped at the island. Caressing it, he couldn't help but think of her.

He went upstairs.

His maid has come, changed linen and made the bed in the guest room erasing any trace of her that was left.

He couldn't bear it.

He rang James Marshall, left yet another icy message and started to wait.

Once again, he was unravelling.

Waking up on day 7 at 7 am without having heard back from James, Julian was getting angrier by the hour as he left a message every hour until 11.30 am came and he had yet to hear anything from the investigator.

So, he rang Marcus, and unleashed his sour mood on him.

Who the hell did James Marshall think he was?!

((~~!~~))

James

I had been waiting in her corridor for hours. Finding her had been a fluke, really. It was clear the woman was hiding something.

With the little data Julian gave him the day prior, namely a physical description, a first name, a surname, and a phone area code, he had started to make some calls within the hour to gather information. Taxi companies and airlines produced nothing, which was odd in itself, so he called on one of his contact at LAX and asked if he could get the airport security tapes-against compensation of course- for the day Julian picked her up. Bingo! He had her! She had flown in with Cathay from Hong Kong.

From then on, getting one of his hackers to peruse the passenger’s manifests of every single flight arriving from that day to narrow the number of potential candidates had been a breeze. He was still stuck with 73 women's names, but it was progress.

The McGregor name was none of them, neither was the first name Victoryn, but he felt in his guts, her name, real name was in one of these manifests.

Lucky for him, since 9/11 he knew everyone entering the country had their name and contact details in the US sent out to the Homeland Security and ICE before being allowed entrance on US soil. An invasion of privacy if he ever saw one, but this was a blessing for people in his line of work.

He called one of his contacts in DC, and within 45 minutes, he had addresses and digits for the 73 women.

He eliminated 31 that were only transiting through LAX, and confirmed they had boarded other flights.

He was left with 42. He checked the phone numbers on the list and only 11 had the 415 area code.

During the next hours, he called every single one of them. She was #7 on the list and the only one whose phone was on voicemail. She didn’t state any name on her recording. He didn't leave a message as the voice requested, but upon hearing it, he knew, it was hers. She had a sensual radio voice, and he felt his groin area stir.

At 1 am, picture in hand, address and phone number confirmed, he was certain she was the woman he was looking for.

He drove to the building in Santa Monica and seeing there were 3 different entrances to it, he cursed, as he realized he simply couldn't watch them all to catch her when she would eventually come out. He went in, gave 3 C-notes to the doorman to confirm the woman was indeed living there, and currently present in the building. The man took the money eagerly corroborating that indeed Ms McGregor was home.

So, again with the McGregor name James thought. She entered the country under a different name; her fingerprints were taken; yet, she was known as Ms McGregor in this building?

More phone calls to DC would be needed.

James was intrigued.

Did she pull the passport swap trick? And if so, who trained her? And more importantly, why?

With the apartment number now in mind, he made himself comfortable in one of the lobby seats and waited.

He started to think.

Less than 24 hours in, he had found her; by chance, he now realized this.

It was clear this was no ordinary woman. She hadn't used a taxi to leave Julian's property, so nothing could be traced back, and if Julian hadn't seen the name and number on her luggage tag, no one could have found her, including him!

James was impressed.

Why would a woman use several identities? Use a phone number with an area code she did not live in, and apparently travel the world as often as this one did?

These questions needed answers, so James didn't call his client to report in, as he would usually have. McCarty would have to wait. There was more to his disappearing fling that met the eye. 

He had a black and white photo printout of the security tape, and her face was haunting him. She was a beautiful woman, but she seemed quite vulnerable upon looking up straight at the cameras while passing through customs. He wanted to know why before handing her over to Julian McCarty.

At 7 am, the doorman came to wake him as he had fallen asleep, and the man was going home at the end of his night shift, but he confirmed she hadn't left the building.

James gave 2 additional c-notes to the man for his good help, and decided to go upstairs and wait for her there.

Staring at her door, he asked himself once more:

Who the hell is she?

March 2004. Darling Harbor. Sydney. Australia

Vi

“Where the fuck do you think you're going?” asked a voice coming from the darkness of the lounge.

She jumped in fear. He flicked on the light, and his cerulean eyes gave her a hard stare.

He was sitting on one of the sofa, still wearing his tuxedo; shirt opened and had a glass in his hand. He had been waiting for her in the darkness, knowing she was coming down...

She was at the bottom of the stairs draped in a coat and carrying a travel bag, looking at him and biting her bottom lip.

She walked towards the door while saying, “I'm leaving.”

“Like hell you are.” he said coolly, his eyes never leaving her.

She moved forward, trying to block his voice out. Just a few mores steps, she thought.

“Vic, if you go through that door, I will hurt you, and considering your condition, I don't think you want to take that chance...” his voice casually trailed, as if the words were meaningless.

She stopped, and closed her eyes.  How did he know? How on earth did he know?

She looked at him. He had a smile at the curve of his lips, the features of his beautiful face, relaxed, and he said softly, almost tenderly, “Surprised, are you?  Do I need to remind you, you are my wife?“

She remained silent, tears already welling up in her eyes, but she would not cry. She would not give him the satisfaction.

“Did you really think I would let you leave with my child?” he asked, his tone reflecting the incongruousness of the idea.

She started to shake.

“I didn't think so. You better go back upstairs, and unpack babe...And next time you go to the doctor, you might want to make sure they don't call the house to confirm your next appointment, or better yet, tell them to ring me. After all, I am your husband. Remember? The father? And as such should be involved in your pregnancy, shouldn't I?“ He continued, in a caustic tone.

Getting no rise out of her, he pursued, "As a matter of fact, from now on, I will focus all my attention on you. Tonight was an eye opener...I didn't think you still had it in you...but you apparently do. So, I need to make sure you will not disappear with my child..." He grinned and said, "From tomorrow on, until the baby is born, I will be working from here as much as I can, attending all appointments, make sure you feed yourself, so I do get a healthy son. Hell, just making sure you're a good girl…" he chuckled, "You are my wife, you are carrying my child, and you are not going anywhere." He finally punctuated, in a deadly serious tone.

The first tear dropped, and she turned away.

She was trapped.

Please, dear God, help me! Give me the strength, she thought as she started climbing the stairs to go to her bedroom.

She locked the door, let her bag and coat drop on the floor, and sat on the stool in front of her vanity looking at herself in the mirror.

She was a shadow of her former self. Hell, that self simply did not exist anymore. The woman looking back at her had a haunted, empty look. Who was she?

This was not how my life was supposed to be. She was a gifted lawyer, everyone said so, and she was beautiful. She’s had the world at her feet. What had happened to her?

((~~!~~))

In January 2001, 23 people only attended their wedding ceremony.

The five weeks leading to the wedding were strained and had been draining for her.

Her father and brother had refused to come, both saying they couldn't understand how she could give up her job for a man, a politician none less, not to mention living in a country at the far end of the planet! What was wrong with her? Why was she getting married so quickly? Was she pregnant?

When she replied she wasn't and tried to explain she didn't see the point of waiting, they both said she was making the mistake of her life, and they would not come and witness it.

Kevin had begged her to reconsider in light of his own experience when his fiancée had left him literally at the altar an hour before getting to church, just a few weeks prior. She had been there and held him in her arms the entire night of that fateful December day before flying back to Sydney for the New Year. When she asked him to be her witness, he had refused telling her she was getting married because she had been emotionally blackmailed. He loved her and always would, but simply could not condone this union.

Thank God for Lily, who in spite of her significant reserves and doubts had made the trip to support her friend.

So their wedding ceremony was only attended by Ethan's mother -his father having passed on a few years ago and he had no siblings- and a few selected family friends. She had begged him to make it as small as possible and to forgo any public announcement because she couldn't bear being surrounded and congratulated by hundreds of strangers when none of her loved ones would be there on what was supposed to be the most important day of her life.

Ethan, at first, had wanted to make a political statement with the event, already planning a big society splash in classic McGregor fashion; but when he found out through his mother that his old best friend Julian McCarty would not even be in the country to attend or witness it while his mother, Helen, would, he caved in to Vic’s wishes, and reluctantly agreed.

((~~!~~)) 

She should have known right there and then that it could and would only go downhill from then on...

But being optimistic by nature, she kept telling herself, I love him and he loves me, everything will be fine, I'll prove them wrong with my happiness. Life is short, look at how mama's ended.

After 3 months of marriage, she was still unemployed. Her husband had begged her to accept his help in finding her dream job, but she had refused, firmly believing that her qualifications and experience would be and should be enough. She was wrong.

Clearly, she had no idea how conservative and guarded Sydney professional firms were. The shocked looks when she arrived for interviews was an indicator; people asking her where she was from and somehow expecting the answer to explain how she could have cinnamon skin and an Irish name. Upon founding out who her husband was, interviews went seemingly well until after the 3rd or 4th round, when she’d either be asked if she was willing to use her husband’s connections in her job, or simply, she unexpectedly no longer was considered.

She was tired of it, and starting to think she had made a horrific mistake quitting her job to move to a country where prejudices were so established.

Her impression were confirmed when at a cocktail party she boldly asked a federal judge to explain to her why it was so difficult for her to find employment matching her skills in the city. He apologetically replied that while he felt for her, she needed to realize that she would never be able to experience the level of responsibility she had while working at the UN. Shocked, she asked him to elaborate, as her husband was witnessing this exchange; the judge admitted having seen his own son's career being hijacked and slow-tracked when he had the unfortunate luck to fall in love and marry a Mauritian beauty. It had taken his son 2 years to realize that if he wanted better career opportunities, he needed to move. The couple had left for London the same year and ever since, his career was doing splendidly.

"My dear, you lucked out when you moved here," were the final words of judge on this topic that night.

Ethan, seeing the distressed look of his wife tried to reassure her with calming words, but when Vic got home that night, she was seriously reconsidering her career options in a country where she wasn’t welcome.

Coincidently, she got a job offer only 2 days later in one of the top tier firm she had interviewed weeks prior, and the conversation slipped to the back of her mind.

4 months, later, as she was working late at the office, she overheard 2 senior partners discuss her and learned the truth about her miracle hiring.  Ethan had made a call to get her hired, and the partners were discussing how they could use her to tender more government contract work, on top of fantasizing on getting a taste of her brown sugar.

She had been a pawn.

She resigned the next day, after confronting the 2 men, and having confirmed that without the use of the connections that came with her name she had no hope of further responsibilities in the firm.

Not being able to practice law has been the first wrench in her marriage.

Crushed, she was still a determined woman, so she decided if not law, she would still work. She found a part time position as an account manager in an advertising agency, and decided to focus more on her married life than work.

She was ashamed, she could not call her brother or Kevin or even Lily, as she was falling into an abyss with no way out. She knew they would forgo the “I told you so" and help her in any way they could, but the shame was growing stronger everyday and her pride made her postpone the calls.

She would find a way to make this work.

She quit the job after two months, tired of having her colleagues and clients more interested in the supposedly glamorous life that came with her name than whatever input she had to offer about the accounts she was in charge of.

She decided if she could not be happy through work, then she would create the perfect home for her and her husband; they still loved each other, their connection stronger than ever.

They had each other and that's all that mattered.

Ethan became her everything.

They moved into a new house. She took up decorating, cooking classes and tried to involve herself in charities in spite of her contempt for endless chicken dinners attended by snooty matrons who believed they were charitable when their only true motive was to be seen. But since it was important for Ethan to have her seen, she put a fake smile and a fake laugh on; they were plastered on her face at all times. Soon, she couldn't tell the difference.

She swore to herself, she would become the perfect wife, whatever the cost.

The home she had created for her and Ethan made it to a special edition of Home and Garden, and she was so proud, she sent copies to Lily, Deric and Kevin, in the hope to convince them that she was indeed as happy as she claimed. The pictures proved it.

She had no real friends, a plethora of acquaintances and Ethan was still her everything. She had sacrificed her career and moved to another continent to be with him. 

Her marriage simply had to work, and that first year, it did.

That year flew by, and she felt she was in a bubble of champagne, not really knowing where her life was going, but not overly concerned either. Her husband, her home and the endless cocktail parties had become the centre stage of her life.

As the second year started, so did his bid for leadership, and Ethan's political ambition became his everything and they were growing apart within 14 months of being married.

When she had been feeling loved, wanted, and complete with Ethan by her side, she now felt more and more alone as her husband started campaigning, and distance grew between them.

Ethan was losing his way and getting more corrupted as the months went by and the elections drew closer. His ambition consuming him and their life. Every time she had tried to point it out, they would argue and it would end up either with him placating her anger with sex, or with one of them slamming the door, leaving. She had a permanent suite at the Pitt St. Westin for such cases, but usually he was the one leaving first. He would disappear for a few days, and by then, she would be worried sick, unable to sleep until he’d return home, until he touched her and told her he still loved her, in spite of her resentment over who he was becoming.

Within 4 months of campaigning, arguments over his political strategic choices increased to almost a daily occurrence. Her emotional dependency fuelling his need to somehow meet her approval, he was still an attentive lover, reassuring her that she still owned that part of him, professing he was still her Ethan.

Soon, their only form of communication, the only one that still materialized their marital bond, was sex. He would do anything to please her in that department, and she lived for the moments he would touch her, reassuring her she hadn’t forgone the life she was destined to live to end up unemployed on the other side of the planet, friendless and in a loveless marriage. Her emotional well-being and her sanity, depending on them.

She was slowly but surely losing herself.

Their physical need of each other had been intense from the start, but when it had been passionate and yet controlled since they had met, things were changing between them, and before long their physical interaction became on sided, Ethan being the one initiating any sex, and his dominant streak would be unbridled, selfish, something it had never been before.

6 months into the campaign, she no longer recognized the man she was married to. Her husband, her everything, had turned into a ruthless politician whom she didn’t care for.

Their sex life reached a breaking point when her lover followed the same path, and a stranger emerged in their bed in lieu of her caring husband.

He no longer cared about her pleasure but only his. When the simple sentence “Spread your legs” whispered against her ear used to create immediate heat and moisture, it, now, only created fear as to what would happen if she refused. Yet her body was still his, as he liked to cruelly yet tenderly remind her when she would eventually moan under his touch and beg him to make her come.

Something broke in her, and she started to close herself off to him.

Their daily arguments ceased. It was September 2002, another 4 months before the election; their sexual interaction became minimal. Her body still reacted to his touch but her spirit no longer was there, Ethan noticed immediately. He tried to be tender, cajoling, and submissive even, but he could see in her eyes, she no longer respected him, so, he didn’t dare to touch her anymore.

She was losing weight; barely able to eat and sleep, and started to isolate herself from the few intimate acquaintances she had made since the first year she had been there.

Soon, she was in an emotional and physical castle of loneliness.

She figured, if no one saw her, then it wasn't real. Her life was not falling apart.

She had tried to keep up the pretence of the perfect life, but no longer cared; she was dying inside.

Her only reprieve was the decision to start her PhD thesis. Working had always been her salvation. So, she got a subscription to the law library and started to study and write every time she was feeling distressed, which was most of the time. She became a recluse, stayed at home, reading and writing, barely noticing her husband when he was there and showed no interest in his public life. She anything but simply disappeared from the Sydney social scene, refused any public appearances, and by the end of 2002, she was simply a phantom woman.

Their 2nd wedding anniversary was approaching and the election days was 3 days prior.For all intent and purposes, Ethan had no wife as far as the public was concerned. He was more seen with his campaign manager, Anna Blaton, than the woman he was legally married to, which suited her just fine.Until Anna implied publicly that, she was the de facto standing wife of Ethan McGregor.

Her reaction was the first she had in months. She had been unconcerned with her husband for the better part of the year because he was this stranger she no longer knew, and thought she didn’t care any more, yet her pride was hurt. Deeply.

I lost it all. I can take anything, but not my husband having a public affair.

So, she confronted him, on the eve of the Election Day.

That was their first real interaction in months. The first argument since June, and the first and last time he hit her.

She was so shocked; she thought she would never recover. The bruise fading within a day, but her soul was scarred for life. That very day, she moved all her belongings into one of their guestrooms.

She was going to leave him. You are someone's daughter, her inner voice kept telling her. This man was nothing to her. The decision was made.

Never mind, she hadn't practiced law in nearly 2 years and had no real working records, never mind she didn't really know where she would go, never mind that her money was tied up with his, and she wouldn't be able to access it without raising all kinds of red flags with their bank. Never mind all that, he had gone too far...

She was better than this.

She deserved better than this.

She needed to leave, or she would die.

She had given him enough.

She would leave and never look back.

He apologized on Election Day, his party winning. He would be becoming the Premier of NSW, the youngest the State ever had.

He begged her to forgive him, accusing the strenuous amount of stress that caused him to lose control. She was his wife. He loved her and was not having an affair with Anna.

He would do whatever it took to make her happy. He promised. Whatever it took.

She saw flickers of her husband, her everything, in the man holding and begging her.

She stayed.

They had magic once, wasn't it worth fighting for?

((~~!~~))

The night of his victory Ethan told her, he had realized their marriage was on the brink of collapse, he still loved her and wanted to make things work between them. Reminding her of their wedding vows, he swore to make things better. Ultimately, it was about the promises they made to each other; he would do everything in his power to keep his, if she gave him a chance. He was true to his words. Months went by without any other incident, Ethan was being his old charming self in the presence of his wife, and while they hadn't been intimate in months, they did talk more, he was home more often than not, no longer pressuring her into the role of the politician's spouse. She started to believe their marriage would survive, her PhD was progressing and she began to start feeling like herself again. The year flew by, their marriage regaining footing in the process.

Their 3rd wedding anniversary was approaching and she organized a romantic dinner at the Centrepoint restaurant, the first place he took her out dinning on her first trip. She had high hopes they would turn a new leaf and start over.

She had cleared his schedule with his executive assistant to make sure he would meet her there that evening, had gone to her Grace Brothers personal shopper in the days leading up to the date, to get new clothes and lingerie. She had gone to the day spa & salon for the first time in months, getting her body scrubbed, smoothed and massaged, her hair and make up done, and felt mentally and physically ready to reacquaint herself intimately with her husband. She missed him, missed their physical connection.

The evening came and went, he never showed. She left the restaurant at midnight humiliated; their personal chauffeur taking her home in silence, witnessing her tears through the rear-view mirror.

That night, Ethan stumbled in her bedroom at 2:30 am, clearly intoxicated, waking her up by kissing her neck. Her eyes looked at the clock, before resting on him. As he started to chew on her nipple, his fingers digging into her flesh, she tried to escape his grip. He forcefully pinned her down to the mattress with his legs, a hand around her neck holding her in a chokehold while ripping her silk gown off her body with the other.

Would I ever be able to forget that night?

Very unlikely...And now he's downstairs...

He ran his hand up her nether lips, massaging her slit with his thumb. She began to cry, her breathing getting labored.

When she felt his fingers trying to probe inside of her, she begged him to stop. He said he wanted to celebrate their anniversary, she was his wife, he owned her.

Trapping you...

That cunt was his to take whenever he felt like it, he whispered against her ears as he continued to split her nether lips. “See, she wants it, your clit is swelling baby...” he breathed against my flesh.

I can never forget the night my son was conceived...

Growing fear went through my body upon hearing the words. Did he think I was enjoying this? That I was responding to his touch? Could he possibly confuse my whimpering and wincing with a moan?

I bit his lips as he forced his tongue into my mouth, trying to dislodge myself from his grip, twisting my hips in the process. That involuntary gesture seemed to make him more aroused.

"That's the spirit baby..." he said while licking my neck as I had turned my head wondering if he was so drunk, he couldn't feel any pain...

I hate him!

Tears flowed freely and I closed my eyes against the flood. Please just let it end soon...

I screamed out in pain at the first thrust of his cock inside me. I shrunk at the pain as it took my breath away; we hadn't been intimate for so long, my body simply was unprepared for the brutal assault.

Ethan didn't care.

He was ripping me open.

I tried sucking air through my nose but couldn't get enough.

I was suffocating while he continued to pound harder, ravaging my body with faster strokes, hitting my cervix deeper every time, his left hand resting back on my throat.

I felt him twitch. Shock and unadulterated terror flooded in me as I realized two things. First, he wasn't wearing a condom. Second, he had no intention of pulling out. When he finally shot his burning semen inside me, he moaned crying out “mine”, looking down at me as though he wanted me to understand his purpose.

I couldn't.  

He collapsed on top of me, his cock still pumping while the rest of his body was spent…His semen starting to leak between our bodies into the crumpled sheets.

Finally, he was through, his hunching eased and he lay there for several minutes saying nothing. His heavy breathing and my sobbing were the only sounds in the night.

Yes, I would always remember...

She was so fatigued; she didn't know where he legs found the energy to carry her. She got up, his cum dripping off her onto her legs and the carpet and locked herself in her bathroom.

I'm alive.

Cleaning herself up as best she could,

Silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

There was blood mixed with semen between her legs. She sat in the shower, crying, trying to wash away the past hour of her life.

She then lay in the tub, and spent the rest of the night there.

The love had died.

((~~!~~)) 

When she woke up the next day, he was downstairs waiting for her. She had planned to go to the doctor to get a morning after pill, but couldn't bear to be in his presence, and the sight of him made her physically nauseous, so she retreated back to her bedroom, locking herself up.

She could call no one.

She stayed locked in for 10 days straight only opening the bedroom door when Marina, their housekeeper, would bring her platters of food.

On day 11, knowing Ethan had gone to New Zealand for the next 2 days, she drove herself to her physician and told her she was afraid of being pregnant and needed tests done.

The results came back 24 hours later.

She was expecting.

She needed to leave.

Staying was simply no longer an option; she had to think of her baby.

She rang Kevin the same afternoon, and with a hollow voice filled with shame she told him what had truthfully happened in her life from the moment she got married to the minute she was told she was pregnant.

She was broken.

She knew with absolute certainty she needed to find a way out or she would die before even meeting the child she was carrying.

Kevin was shocked, sorry and seething, told her to pack her bags immediately and head for the airport.

When she told him she couldn't because she was scared Ethan would find her and probably hurt her, he said he would fly over enlisting her brother with him and would beat the living hell out of him before he touched her ever again.

She refused telling him the last thing she wanted was for him to end up in jail, and this would be a seriously distinct possibility considering who Ethan was. He kept telling her Ethan wasn't above the law, but she knew otherwise, as she had tried to file a report for rape against him this very same morning, only to have Sydney Commissioner of police call Ethan about it; the report mysteriously disappearing within 40 minutes of being filed. Ethan had called her just an hour earlier, telling her he would punish her when her returned from New Zealand the very same evening; that was the reason for her calling Kevin now. She was desperate and wanted to make sure, at least, one person knew what had been happening behind the closed doors of her marriage in case something terrible happened to her or worse, her baby.

She begged Kevin not to involve Deric. She couldn't bear the idea of her younger brother seeing her in a different light than the strong older sister she had always been. How would her baby brother look at her knowing her own husband had raped her?

She told Kevin, she would find a way to leave the mansion at the earliest without her husband realizing she would never return.

When Ethan returned that night from New Zealand, she was waiting for him, submissive and apologetic. She swore from now on she would do anything he wanted as long as he didn't hurt her.

He smiled, pinned her against his body and claimed her mouth, stating as he was kissing her, he was happy to see her come to her senses.

The following 4 weeks after that day, she had spoken to both Lily and Kevin every day locked in her bathroom, water running, and they all decided the best night for her disappearing act would be the evening on the Premier inauguration ball, march 17th 2004.

She would accompany Ethan to the Ball in order not to be conspicuous, and would later leave without their chauffeur.

Ethan would be busy being honoured, taking care of his cabinet members and other society types, his guard would be down and she would be able to sneak out of the ball unnoticed, pick up her gateway bag that was securely hidden in her bathroom and head straight to the airport never to come back.

Her baby and herself would finally be safe.

((~~!~~)) 

Yet, here she was, watching herself in the mirror. He knew. He had caught her, and he would never let her go.

She had been violated and abused. Humiliated and shamed.

Now, she was trapped.

Julian

March 2004. Darling Point. Sydney. Australia

“ I want a divorce,” He said, staring at her harshly.

“What?” she quipped, stopping pouring water in the glass she was holding in her hand.

“Actually, I've already spoken to Todd, he's drawing the papers as I speak.” He continued, undisturbed.

“But why?” She asked, wide-eyes, letting the glass hit the coffee table with a loud sound, as her hands began to shake.

“You really don't know? You're actually going to pretend you have no idea why I want your sorry ass out of my life?…” He said with a sinister smile gracing his features.

Her grey eyes were shining with anger, but also fear.

Could it be...?

“No Julian, I have no idea, so please enlighten me....” she said caustically, feeling herself pale a little.

He looked at her, disgust all over his face and said one word,  “Madeline”.

((~~!~~))

Belinda Carmichael and Julian McCarty had meet on December 19, 2000.

Julian had just returned from Australia after attending his sister Melissa's wedding.

Christmas was approaching, and as any A list actor he was invited to countless parties on the eve of the New Year.

Gotta love LA, he said to himself while getting dressed.

Parties, sex, money, endless supply of women...

His latest film had been released only 3 days prior, the critics were excellent, and the earnings even better...

Life is good, he said to himself, inspecting his image reflected in the mirror of his dressing room.

He was glad to be back in LA after the debacle Australia had been. He needed to unwind. He needed some fun.

And in about an hour, he would get it; Marcus and Todd were picking him up to take him to what they promised was the party of all parties.

After his last altercation with his mother, Julian was more determined than ever to enjoy his life.

Splashing a dash of Acteur on, he was looking forward to be out with his boys tonight.

2 hours later, he was in Venice, perusing the women around the room. He had to hand it to the boys, they hadn't lied, and the pickings were quite spectacular: red heads, blondes, brunettes, and even a girl with purple hair. All were beautiful.

Julian had decided he would start 2001 with someone in his life. He was single and enjoying it, but sometimes more often lately, he wished he had someone to come home to.

His mother while she didn't know it at the time had hit it on the nail when she mentioned he might want to follow Ethan's example and get married. He was 33 after all, not getting any younger, and his last marriage had happened 10 years ago. Maybe the old bat was right, he needed to consider starting anew with someone and maybe create a family of his own...

He had purchased his new house in the Hollywood Hills just 2 months earlier probably unconsciously already thinking about it.

12 rooms, a pool and a mini maze, was more than enough for 1 person who needed a bit of showing off, but ideal for a couple with children had said the realtor...

Tonight was about putting himself out there, and what better place to start but a party with the most beautiful women in town?

Julian would admit, he was vain in that regards: before wanting to know if a woman was smart, she needed to pick his interest with her physical attributes! 

So, here he was: a Jim Beam and coke in hand, distractedly talking with a producer while browsing the people around him.

He was at count 4, as in 4 women he wanted to sleep with before the night was over, when his eyes crossed those of a woman who was openly staring at him with a knowing smile. He nodded his head, finished his sentence, excused himself to the producer and started to walk in her direction across the room.

He knew he was in trouble. She was so fucking beautiful; it was distracting.

Unfortunately, a director who wanted a word with him halted his quest, and by the time he looked at the spot were the woman had been, she had gone.

Trying to decide where to go to find her, he suddenly heard a voice whisper in his ear: "Saw something you liked?"

He turned around, and there she was, in all her majesty.

It was almost unfair. How could anyone look that perfect?

She had a pearly white smile, and her eyes were showing mischief.

"Well?" she demanded.

Caught red handed, he decided to go with the truth instead of a classic one liner.

He laughed and said, “My mother seems to think it is time for me to get married! I was assessing the pool.... ” he chuckled.

"Does she, now?" came the short reply, added by " Well, why don't we give her her wish?"

Julian's head tilted, looking at the stranger.

Mesmerizing.

She was almost his height, and considering he was edging the 6'2, that was something. She had the clearest grey eyes he'd ever seen, a classical straight nose, blonde hair with streaks of red in some sort of artistic bob, a bottle shaped figure, and legs running till tomorrow...

Her long red dress was simple but hugging her curves at the right places.

The woman was beautiful, and Julian knew she knew it, as she was examining him with a smile on her face during his perusal of her body...

"Are you propositioning me?" He asked smiling.

"Actually, I am proposing marriage since you are in the market for it..." she echoed.

For a brief second Julian looked at her. Really looked at her, trying to assess if she was serious or not.

Finally, he said, "You would make a great poker player!" he grinned, not quite believing he was having this conversation.

She gets an A for entertainment, he thought

"I'm already a great poker player, but I would make a greater wife..." she replied, her lips curved in a smile, but her eyes, still, serious.

He finished his drink in one gulp and offering her his arm, said, "Shall we?” his eyes matching hers.

After leaving the party, she indicated she didn't feel like being indoors anymore, but was hungry, so he drove them up to 26 beach to grab 2 Kobe burgers and 2 bottles of wine. They ended up at the beach, eating, drinking, and talking for the best part of the night, until 3 am came, and they realized it was really time to part. They saw each other almost everyday from then on, and after a month, Julian felt in love and knew he wanted to marry Belinda. Within five weeks, she had moved in with him in the house in the Hollywood Hills.

She was 29, a former model, turned actress with moderate success with TV work, and she had told him, she was ready to commit to a man and start a family.

Finding himself on the same wavelength, he asked her to move in and proposed the same night.

They were married on valentine's day 2001 in Sydney; and, a month later Belinda announced she was pregnant.

Madeline Sara McCarty was born August 21 2001.

Julian who had been filming in the Moroccan desert had to rush back home, as he didn't expect his child to be born 4 weeks ahead of her scheduled date, but he was so worried about Belinda and the baby that he didn't care about the timing. By the time he got back to LA, Belinda was getting released from Cedars, taking the baby home. He was the father of a healthy baby girl, that's all that mattered. He fell in love with his daughter the first time he saw her.

The baby had inherited her mother's grey eyes, and by all accounts her blonde hair too. She had a chubby face, and Julian thought she was the most beautiful baby in the world. He loved Belinda even more for she had given him the most precious gift a man could receive during a lifetime. If he ever had doubts about staying married - and yes, he had had wandering thoughts, he was an actor after all! - they were eradicated now that he had this baby. Belinda decided to be a homemaker and fully took on the role of hands on mom, forgoing nannies, and being present in her child's life 24/7 for the first 2 years of her life. The only help she had was Consuela, his maid, who became a live-in after Belinda came home with their child. Madeline was truly her priority; her marriage to Julian coming 2nd. Julian only took on projects involving domestic or Canadian filming locations. He simply didn't think being on the other side of the world for weeks was any good for him or his family and he would miss his daughter too much. Luckily, acting for him had always been more about having fun than actually working for money - after all, he was a McCarty-, so people in the industry understood that his A list status would not be in jeopardy and affected by these choices.

By the 3rd year of marriage, Belinda and Julian had a well-oiled routine established; they were parents before being lovers. Julian still loved his wife, but in a different way. The passion he had felt at the start had dwindled which he assumed was normal, and Belinda was all about her daughter. They would still go out together for diner at least once or twice a week, and take long vacations together, but she simply was no longer interested in anything that had to do with the movie or TV industry. Julian found himself attending work related events on his own or on the arms of any starlet, Ari deemed necessary at the time.  He still had his boys Marcus and Todd to maintain some extent of social life, but that was about it. His player days were long gone, and while content with his life, he sometimes found himself missing the good old days.

His sister Melissa had given birth to twin daughters just a year earlier, and they had decided to meet up back home in Australia, so their mother would get the chance to have all her grandchildren in the same place for the first time, so they all headed home for Christmas 2003.

((~~!~~))

Christmas had gone relatively well between Julian and his mother as she was really taken with Belinda, and had made a significant effort to keep the peace for the short 2 weeks they were all there. Not once did she mention Ethan, in spite of him being the current Premier of NSW, as Julian had realized upon arriving home. The only time she allowed herself to comment on Julian's life and choice of wife was when she asked him why Belinda was not pregnant with their 2nd child after nearly 3 years of marriage. Julian replied there was no hurry, and this was none of her business anyway; but the remark stayed with him. Back in LA for the New Year, he asked Belinda if she would be amenable to a 2nd child, as he wanted a son in the future. She curtly replied that she simply didn't see herself be pregnant again, and that Madeline was enough. Julian was quite taken aback and asked her to reconsider within the next 12 months. She promised she would. Julian decided to pull all the stops in order to recreate the romance between him and his wife, so she would indeed fall pregnant within the next 6 months. He became a more attentive husband instead of just being a parent to Madeline and a living companion to his wife. It seems after two months of flowers, gifts, and constant attention, Belinda was just about to cave in to his request, but a phone call from her mother in Chicago, informing her that her father had been in a serious car accident, forced her to leave LA for an undetermined length of time. It was decided Madeline would remain with Julian in LA until Belinda's return, as she didn't want her little girl exposed to the harsh realities of sick relatives at such a young age.

Belinda left, and Julian found himself attending to his daughter's daily needs with the help of the faithful Consuela. After three weeks, he received a phone call from his sister who was in London asking him if he could fly to Australia immediately. Their mother had been diagnosed with cancer.

Julian rang Belinda to inform her of the situation asking her if she was returning to LA. Her own father being at death's door, she couldn’t, so she told him he should take Madeline with him and go to Australia to see his mother and sister who was also flying over.

Julian packed and left LA with his daughter at the end of February telling Belinda to join them in Sydney whenever the situation with her father was sorted.

Melissa and her husband, Charlie, had flown over with the girls, and Julian was grateful his daughter would not be the only child while all adults were preoccupied with Helen. They had hired a governess to take care of the children while they were trying to decide what the best course of action would be for the next few months, making appointments with specialists after specialists. 

On March 3rd 2004, Julian's world exploded. The governess rang him in a panic telling him Madeline has had an accident while playing; she fell unconscious and it seemed, her heart had stopped. She had been taken to the hospital for immediate surgery.

Melissa, Charlie and Julian rushed to the ER. Upon arriving, the attending told him they were doing everything they could to save her life, and the next 24 hours would be critical, as heart surgery on children was highly dangerous. Desperate with fear, Julian asked if there was anything he could do. The doctor replied, he should be donating blood in case a transfusion was need. The 3 adults donated, and Melissa rang Belinda to inform her of the tragic news, as Julian had been so out of it, he simply forgot to call his wife.

10 hours later, Madeline was out of surgery but still in the OR until a room was assigned to her, and the prognosis she would recover was good. The doctor asked to speak to Julian privately about something that had come up in the bloods tests that had been done. Julian, mentally exhausted had replied that whatever he had to say he could say in front of his sister and brother-in-law. The doctor had cleared his throat and asked Julian if Madeline had been adopted.

Bewildered, Julian had asked twice what the doctor meant, as Madeline was his daughter, and he couldn't comprehend where this line of questioning was coming from or going. The doctor had replied to a stunned Julian that his blood type simply could not have produced Madeline, no matter what Belinda's blood type was.

Julian was shattered. He couldn't speak or move and fell on the hospital chair with tears streaming from his eyes. The doctor excused himself saying he would come later to give an update about Madeline's condition after she left the OR.

Melissa and Charlie did not know what to do to alieve Julian pain.

Belinda would be arriving the next day from Chicago, and they both knew nothing good would come out this reunion.

((~~!~~))

After 14 days in hospital, the doctor declared Madeline had a 100 % chance of recovery, and could be released in the care of her parents with appropriate medical care at home, but she would not be able to travel for another 8-12 weeks minimum.

They were stuck in Australia.

Julian had rung Todd Spencer, one of his best friends, but also his lawyer, the very next day after finding out Madeline was not his biological daughter; he wanted to know the legalities of the matter if he decided to divorce Belinda.

He needed to have all the information before confronting the bitch.

He had been cold towards her since her arrival, but when she had asked him why the sudden change after the warmth he had displayed before her departure for Chicago, he stated he had been so scared for his daughter: he simply had no energy left for anything or anyone else at the moment. She had accepted his explanation without further questioning.

Now, they were back at the McCarty estate in Darling point, their daughter sleeping in the next room under the care of a professional nurse they had hired on the day of her release, and Julian had decided, he couldn't bear to have his wife anywhere near him anymore.

So, he informed her he was filing for divorce.

When she asked in surprise, "Why?" His daughter's name was the single word he said.

"Madeline? What about her Julian?" she had asked with concern showing all over her features.

Belinda knew in the pit of her stomach that the day she feared the most had arrived. She didn't know how it had happened, but with the look Julian was giving her, she was certain he knew the truth.

There was no point in playing dumb and denying it, so, with trembling lips, she just asked, "When do you want us to leave?"

"I want you gone today, but I am keeping her." He had replied flatly.

Shocked, Belinda got up from the sofa she had been sitting on, approached him until only inches separated their eyes, gently touched the face of her husband, smiled and said in her coldest voice he’s ever heard from her, "Over my dead body." and she walked out of the room.

March 2004. Darling Harbor. Sydney. Australia

Ethan

“Where the fuck do you think you're going?” I asked coolly.

I had been waiting for her in the dark for the past ten minutes.

I knew she had come home and gone upstairs to get her gateway bag.

I knew she intended to leave me tonight.

I knew she was pregnant.

I simply could not let her go.

((~~!~~))

It's all about winning isn't it? Who cared about a little collateral damage?

I had lost my way a long time ago and she was the first one to point it out. But what was I supposed to do?

Vic knew me, sometimes better than I knew myself, and I felt horrible knowing she was now terrified of me, but again: what was I supposed to do?

When I asked her to marry me, I truly thought she would be the perfect politician's wife. She was beautiful, intelligent, multi lingual, a real cosmopolitan woman and a lawyer. I felt truly lucky to be the man she loved. I wanted to show her off everywhere we went.

One couldn't have created a more perfect candidate for the role. Every time I looked at her I felt my heart twinge, and my loins react, I couldn't wait for her to be officially mine. I simply couldn’t take a chance of having any other man whisk her away from me. She was mine.

We made a striking couple, her mocha skin and ambery green eyes contrasting with my blond locks and blue eyes, we were in love, had amazing sexual chemistry and with my political ambition, I was certain nothing could stop us on our way to the top.

Now 3 years later, as I was waiting for her to come down, I wondered when it all had started to crumble.

When we had become strangers to each other.

When I had become the monster, I now was....

When it would all end...

                                                                             ((~~!~~))

I wanted to be the Premier. At all costs.

First, the state; then, the country.

Nothing and no one would stand in my way without suffering the consequences.

My true love wasn't my wife. It was politics and winning.

Well, at least my priorities were in that order, once...

((~~!~~))

For better or worse. She had accepted my proposal and within seven weeks, we were married.

Our first year of marriage had gone seemingly smoothly, we adjusted to married life quite easily; we were still madly in love with each other and moved into a new house. The only wrench was Vic not being able to practice law in Sydney because no one would hire her. I discovered with stupor that my own country was anchored in prejudice and my wife was a first hand victim.

It made me furious, but she had refused my help every time I had offered it, she wanted a job on her merits not because of whom she was married to, so I gave up, and tried to distract her with the best Sydney social scene had to offer. I made sure she would receive invitations for all cocktail parties, charities' events, and any gathering worth going to; she had memberships in all the best clubs and the likes, so she would keep occupied and not be too distressed at not finding a job. I was home every day, cherishing her, making love to her, reassuring her; I still and would always want her, no matter what. Fuck the job, she didn’t need to work, money would never be an issue for us. I really was afraid, almost terrified, she would pack her bags and leave me then, if she couldn't practice.

It didn't happen.

Even after she found out, I had indeed made a call to get her hired at a top tier firm; she didn’t leave me, as I feared she would. She had simply said, “you did this for me, not to me, it makes me love you more. Just don’t do it ever again.”

She just resigned, and her practicing in Sydney was never mentioned again.

We celebrated our first anniversary in Bali. I chose Bali because a few months back upon offering her a new house as a 6 months wedding anniversary gift, she had chosen a Balinese theme for our home. She made a couple of trips to the island to hand select furniture and said she truly felt at peace every time she was there even if only for a few days. The house was a reflection of this and the countless hours she had spent decorating it was a testament to her love of the place. I thought it would be perfect to have a bit of peace before the year of the election started as I knew upon our return, the craziness would be overwhelming us, and my marriage would have to take a back seat, we stayed 8 days being absorbed only by each other. She was still my everything, and I was hers.

Things were good between us. Still.

Soon they would change... 

I would become Premier in 12 months from now no matter what. That was my vow.

Within 3 weeks of being back, I hired Anna Blaton as my campaign manager; she was a former creative director, and had successfully transitioned into the art of selling politicians 3 years prior. Her credentials were impressive, and the woman had the appearance of a model, which didn't hurt one bit.

She was smart which was a given for her job, but she was also truly ruthless which made her a kindred spirit for me.  When my wife called me "corrupted" as I would tell her of my strategies to crush my opponents, Anna called me 'brilliant’.

Anna understood the game. And before I realized, we were sleeping together.

Ok, that's a lie. I knew what I was doing: affairs don't just happen.

Ask any man who's cheating on his wife, they'd tell you there's always a deciding moment when they make the conscious decision to sleep with someone else. Even when they are drunk as skunk, there is this millisecond before one succumbs...

For me, it had happened on a late evening August 2002; about six months after starting to work closely with Anna and five months before Election Day. I was writing a speech I would be giving at the North Sydney Club the following weekend, and Anna had asked me if Vic would be present. I had said no, and maybe the tiredness or irritation at my wife's refusal to attend any public event in my company, made me add, "Sometimes, I wonder if I made a mistake marrying her." I regretted the words the minute they passed my lips, truthfully, but it was too late.

I knew full well, the toll the campaign had taken on my wife, who eschewed politics, so really I had no excuses, yet I let the words slip, probably as a justification as to what was about to happen.

Anna looked at me, said nothing, went around my desk and my chair, and started to massage my shoulders. I closed my eyes as the tension left my body, and she finally said softly, "Ethan, maybe you did make a mistake. You need someone who will support you no matter what, and sadly Vic doesn't understand the compromises you have to make in the name of the game..."

That's how it started, a few soothing words, one touch, one kiss after this statement, and my will faltered. I was having sex with my campaign manager on my oak desk.

I rationalized by telling myself Vic would never know, and what she didn't know could not and would not hurt her, I was still hers, not matter what. She still had my heart and my soul. Who cared if I took care of my carnal needs on the side? I didn’t. I was a man with needs, and while I still loved my wife very much, our sex life had gone from 100 to nil lately due to our constant disagreements over the tactics I chose to use to get ahead of my opponents. Vic was slowly closing herself to me, and I couldn’t force her to have sex with me when she regarded me with loath in her eyes.

She is the only woman, no, person, I know whom with one look can pin me down and make me feel all kinds of shame; a feat, even my mother never managed. It’s a tremendous amount of power to have over someone, and she had it over me. Whether it was my political or personal choices, she still can with that one look, make my heart constrict in my chest, and create that lump in my throat…

When we would have sex, it was as intense as ever, I’ll admit. No other woman has ever been able to take me where Vic has, there is this fierceness between our bodies, this silent understanding about our boundaries, or lack thereof, my never ending need to please her, so she stays mine…but these occurrences were getting rarer and rarer. Anna was just there to pick up the extra slack.

Of course, the affair was to remain secret. No one would ever know or be suspicious; after all, Anna was my campaign manager, it was normal we would spend so much time together.

But Anna had other ambitions, and as we had been regularly sleeping together for 4 months, as Election Day was approaching, she told me she wanted more, and asked me if I would leave my wife anytime soon. I told her this would not happen, ever, and broke it off with her on the spot. While she didn't resign from her position- as she said she didn't quit her clients until they were elected - she did make a public remark with a bantering tone to a journalist at the last press conference to the local news outlets before the E-day, which could lead to a disturbing interpretation if my wife ever heard about it.

Unfortunately, Vic had caught it and confronted me on the eve of the election.

I was stressed, pissed off and on edge. The day had been exhausting to say the least with the last minute rounds of constituents to remind them to vote, foreign press interviews and other candidate sparring, speech preparation for the next day's results, etc, etc.

When I got home that night, I just wanted to collapse into bed and sleep till next year.

Vic had other plans: she was waiting for me, a very rare occurrence. She had been chain smoking as I could see the remands in the kitchen ashtray, and greeted me home with this: "So tell me E, how long have you been sleeping with Anna? " when I entered our kitchen to get water from the fridge.

She had this smile, almost challenging me to contradict her. I could tell, she was furious.

"I'm not sleeping with Anna." I replied calmly, already wanting to leave the room as I could feel my own anger flare up, and did not want to have an argument with my wife that specific night. I simply did not know if I could keep myself in check.

Vic was determined. She pursued, in a dangerously calm voice, "E, don't lie to me. The woman practically declared to the press she was your de facto wife! No woman would be stupid enough to make such a declaration, in public no less, if there weren't some truth in it! So, don't insult me! It's bad enough you are humiliating me by sleeping with her!"

"I am NOT sleeping with Anna. This is the last time I'm saying this, so please, let it go." I yelled walking out of the kitchen. This seemed to infuriate her more. She followed me to our bedroom where I had gone, and was already beginning to undress...

She continued, “E. Do you even know how this look? Not only for me but also for you?! I mean, clearly you don’t seem to care the woman is humiliating your wife, but how about you? Your fucking career, E? Surely you care enough about it…” Our eyes crossed in the mirror, both sets ablaze.

I stepped out of the bathroom where I had removed my tie and shirt and trying to control my breathing, said as calmly as I could, “Vic, Stop it. Of course, I care! About you and my career! Do you think I would even allow anyone to humiliate my wife?!”

"E, I'm not one those bloody idiots who believe anything that comes out of your mouth! I know you. Remember? This is me… and you are lying to me! Please look at me while I'm taking to you…" she said her voice still trembling with anger, while grabbing my elbow to force me to turn around.

All I can say is: I didn't mean it.

I saw myself shove her out, so she would let me go, but my hand somehow ended back slapping her cheek with some force, causing her to lose balance and stumble onto the corner of our bed, hitting her back on one of the posters.

There was a moment of sheer stupor between us, then her eyes filled with tears.

The look she gave me signalled the finality of our marriage.

I knew right then and there my wife would leave me. It was inevitable. Anna or no Anna.

My party won the election the next day.

((~~!~~))

I had apologized the following evening. I hadn't seen Vic in the morning. She had slept in a guestroom and when I had tried to enter it before leaving that morning, the door had been locked which, to be honest, didn't surprise me at all.

I knew she had been shocked the previous night. She had immediately left our bedroom before I could formulate a proper apology. In truth, I was a bit shocked too. I mean, Vic and I have an intense relationship, always have, but physical violence had never been part of it. Domination, control and surrender yes, violence never. It’s always been purely cerebral between us. I had never stricken a woman before, but I had been so tired, I went to bed straight away, and I'm ashamed to admit, I fell asleep within 5 minutes of hitting the sheets without a thought for my wife's distress.

Now, the election was won, I would be sworn in later in the month and our second wedding anniversary would be in three days; and I was pretty certain my wife would present me with divorce papers as a gift if I didn't do something to convince her to forgive me for last night's events.

I begged.

I had no choice. If the word got out that I was a wife beater, my career would be all but over. No PR genius would be able to save me from not only public embarrassment and humiliation, but peer condemnation would be the clincher.

Moreover, I simply couldn’t picture my life without her in it. I know, it sounds convoluted, considering the year we had, but I truly loved my wife.

That very night, at home, in our living room, on my knees, my arms encircling her waist, my eyes boring straight into hers, I begged her not to leave me and promised I would do whatever it took to make her happy again. I reiterated my wedding vows as she looked at me intensely, trying to see the truth in my words.

I told her, it was about the ring, and it was about the vows. The promises we made to each other.

And I meant it.

That very day, with the fear of her impending departure in mind, while receiving countless congratulations, I had been crumbling internally. I had suddenly realized that I had been neglecting her due to the campaign, and she had been alone for most of the past year. It was actually nothing short of a miracle she hadn’t walked out on me yet.

I told her so, and promised she’ll never feel alone ever again; I added, I was not sleeping with Anna - not at that time anyway -. I still loved her and believed, I could and would be a better husband if she accepted to stay, and of course would never ever lay a hand on her again.

She was my everything, my baby, and I was an insensitive bastard to have forgotten it.

We had magic once, wasn't it worth fighting for?

I guess she believed me. She stayed.

((~~!~~))

Vic was my wife.

She knew where the bodies were buried.

That's the problem you have when you marry someone smart with an extraordinary memory for details.

I mean, she may not have approved of my tactics - ok, so I know she didn't, we had argued enough in the past year – And may have had suspicions about my affair with Anna - well, I didn't lie when I said I wasn't sleeping with Anna: I wasn't when I said it! Give me a break! - But in truth, the main problem with Vic leaving me would be what she knew. Never mind that her leaving would break my heart, and I wasn’t sure I could or would ever be the same without her being there. Her leaving could affect my career, and not for the better.

I had always been truthful to her in that regards, and told her exactly what I had been doing to win that election, in spite of knowing, she disapproved; but I figured she needed to know exactly who she was married to.

My mistake.

Not only my honesty would cost me my wife, but also I would lose my self-respect and become a real criminal in the process.

Vic knew a lot of things and she remembered them all.

I had a first hand experience when about a week after the election, as we were talking about one of my cabinet member, she asked me innocently if the man wasn't the same one whose son had been arrested in Byron Bay for drug offences which I had made disappear by personally calling the Commissioner.

I replied indeed he was, but was already thinking about the rest of the things she knew.

Thank God, I had convinced her to give me another chance at being a decent husband, but from now on, I simply would keep talking about my political 'activities' to a bare minimum. She would be happier, and I wouldn't have cold sweats thinking about the damage that could be done if she ever decided to go public.

For the first few months after becoming Premier, things had actually been dramatically improving between us. I could tell she was regaining her true self, her PhD was coming around extensively, and the time we spent together was actually good, very good. We laughed more, talked more, and started to enjoy each other company again. I took time away from my functions just for us, and it was drastically improving our relationship and our life in general. Real tenderness and banter was back in our household. I was slowly back in sync with my wife, and felt free to ask her advice when something bothered me or when I needed input in seeing the bigger picture. Vic is an intelligent woman, and it is something that I have always admired. I knew she still had some doubts about our marriage, and the incident that had happened on the eve of the election was still fresh in her mind, but I was truly doing my best to get my wife back. I missed, her. I missed us. My focus was still politics, but it started to dawn on me, that my marriage necessitated as much commitment. She was still sleeping in the guest room and I had yet to make love to her ever since, but it was apparent she had decided to give her all to this reconciliation, and I was trying my damnest not to let her down.

I know, it sound ridiculous now, considering where we are at - with her upstairs packing and trying to leave.... –

But I sincerely loved Vic and I still do. She knows me, all of me. She had loved me enough to marry me. I couldn’t let that go. It is about the vows.

Things started to unravel for me at about the 7 months mark, around august 2003 when Anna whom I had kept on as chief of staff walked into my office and announced we were through.

We had resumed our affair from may, 4 months after I took office, on the premise that she understood and accepted I would never leave my wife, as, as a matter of fact we were trying to make our marriage work more than ever and I wouldn’t tolerate interference. I would only be available to her for the purpose of sex and work. If she could be content with these parameters, with no emotional strings, then things would be splendid.

I said it before, I am a man, and I have needs. My wife would not fulfil them -I admit, I was responsible for her pulling away- but nonetheless, I had needs, and Anna was just ready and happy to spread her legs for me when I went to her after 4 months of total abstinence. It wasn’t about intimacy, or getting her to know me or love me, it was just about relieving stress. Crass, I know, but it’s true, and she was fine with it.

Well, until august 2003 anyway, when she told me she had met someone and wanted to give it a real shot, so there would be nothing but a work relationship between us from then on.

I accepted her decision fairly easily because things between Vic and I were good, and I had high hopes to bed my wife within the next few weeks making any sexual need for Anna completely redundant.

A few weeks turned into, 1,2,3 months .We were in November and I was still nowhere near my wife's bed.

She had let me kiss her more deeply over the past few months, eliciting the same fire she did since we first met, and even allowed me to touch her breasts, but that was it. Oral sex and intercourse was still missing in our relationship. On one occasion as we passionately kissed on the sofa, late in the evening, she had actually granted me a few minutes of suckling and biting her glorious breasts and I had almost begged her to let me make love to her as I could feel she was getting flushed.

Oh God, I loved sucking these nipples, they were my personal Cadbury fetish, I missed them so much! I'm actually getting hard just thinking about it now.

But when one of my hand had wandered gliding on her crotch and cupping her womanhood, it had been like a bucket of iced water was dropped; she had gotten up abruptly saying, "I'm sorry E, I can't, I'm not ready..." I had replied, almost yelling in frustration,  "Baby, you were moaning! I want you, I need you, it's been too long, please let me..."

She had walked upstairs to her bedroom, and as I was left literally hanging in our lounge, I had felt cold anger course through my entire body. I had almost gone after her that night.

No matter how angry or distant I got with her, she could make me beg. Still.

The thing is, Vic and I had always had a very intense sexual life. From the first night, I touched her, she awakened needs in me, I didn’t know I had before meeting her.

Touching her, possessing her became ma raison d’'être while I was in Europe. I was in London when she was in Geneva, but I became a regular on Swiss air and the Eurostar, seizing every spare moment I had to meet her, to touch her. I always wanted more. She had no boundaries, her sexuality totally unleashed, as if our first night had opened unknown gates. She was carefree and liberated with me; always pushing me to new heights, I didn’t even know existed.

I’m not saying she created a monster, but sometimes, as I think about my sexual needs, I wonder.

He shakes his head.

I simply didn’t know I had the need to truly possess someone until I met her. It was strange; the intensity of our first night took us both by surprise. We’ve discussed it actually on our 2nd night together. Her, because she realized she needed to be possessed, dominated and accepted in her entirety, me because I truly needed to possess her. No other woman has ever had this effect on me. I’ve slept with plenty, but not once, ever, experienced the possessiveness my wife elicits in me.

It’s messing with my head. Fuck.

I don’t know. I dominate her more often than not, but she is in complete control of our sex life, because she surrenders, she lets me do whatever I want, only because she wants it. Sometimes, I would get high just by wrapping her hand in mine, whispering in her ear, “Say it”, watching her respond to my words, fuelling my own need. Her body would tense up as if becoming electrically wired, her breasts would swell and distend whatever piece of garment she would be wearing, her legs would slight part as well as her lips, regardless of where we would be, her eyes become glassy with raw need and she would look at me with what became ‘the look’ between us. The look that said, “I’m yours. Always. Always. Now, please take me”. I wouldn’t touch her until she said the words, but in truth, I was the one surrendering to her commands. Because, once I touched her, I was hers, and I can’t count how many times she brought me to the brink of losing my sanity. How many times, I have been the one, giving her ‘the look’, the one saying the words, until she finally touched me, or allowed me touch her.

The first time we had sex in public cemented my need of her, I knew from then on, no one else would ever accept me in my entirety, in my complexities like she did.

It was on our 3rd ‘date’, three weeks after our first night. I had flown to Geneva, and had gone to the UN headquarters to pick her up on a Friday night and as the elevator was descending, with people around us, I pressed my body against her back, slowly caressing her wrist, whispering to her ear how much I wanted her and was looking forward to make her mine. She had surprised me, by saying out loud to no one in particular, “Can you please press L4?” all the while, her hand reached her back, slid down my zipper and she had started to fondle my manhood. I had been almost paralysed. As most people got off on the ground floor and then the first parking levels, she hadn’t turned, nor stopped. When the door opened on the final level of the parking garage and we were the only ones left, she had pulled my zipper back up and exited the cabin without a single glance back. She had marched on to the corner of the garage where she had removed her stiletto heels, climbed on the hood of a parked car, and broke the lighting bulb with her heel. Finally, sliding her business pencil skirt up, so her white panties were visible, her garter belt and stockings showcasing her treasured triangle, she had slightly parted her legs, her eyes never leaving mine, and had said one single word, “Yours.”

The message was clear. She was mine. I could take her, anytime, anywhere. As she was standing there, her eyes sparkling, challenging me, I simply forgot where we were, my all-consuming need of her took over, and I ripped the panties off, eager to quench my thirst for her. As I placed her legs on top of my shoulders, held her waist and started to feverish drink from her, all I could think was I would never, ever, get my fill of this woman.

I still haven’t, in spite of our current circumstances. She can still drive me crazy with want.

Later, as I guided my aching cock into her wet core, her body bent over the hood of the very same car, I was on fire and at every stroke, asked her, “who’s fucking you? “ and I would torture her by holding still until she panted my name, “who’s pussy am I fucking?” I kept on, “Yours” she chanted, “Who do you belong to “ I asked, as I began bucking like a wild animal, fucking her with an uncontrollable lust and passion I had never felt for anyone, “You” she had cried. “Mine” our voices had said at the same time, as I emptied my seed in her, finally collapsing against her back, in the public garage.

As we had walked out of the parking lot and the attendant gave us a knowing grin, she had returned his gaze, unapologetic.

I told her I loved her for the first time that night. I was staying at the Richemond, overlooking the lake, and as we were having dinner on the terrace, I looked at her and undoubtedly knew, she was The One. I made love to her slowly and languorously, embedding in my mind every pore of her. We only had known each other for 3 weeks and been on 3 ‘dates’, but I knew with certainty, I could not and would not spend the rest of my life without her. I would be relentless until she was officially mine. In truth, no other woman had me feel the way she does. Even now.

She completes me as much as I complete her. I still don’t how she can be so assertive and dominant and at the same time so submissive. I guess the same question could be asked about me. Privately, she used to call me her special alpha male, the only one she chose to submit to, I guess, she is my alpha female.

This situation is fucking with my head, he thinks.

His mind is drifting to the way she feels, the way she looks, the way she taste and the sounds coming from her mouth.

The woman is simply driving me crazy, he says to himself.

Sex was an essential and complex part of our relationship and I won’t lie, I missed it. Terribly.

Making love to her isn't just about the pleasure, and it is very pleasurable, but it is one of those few moments when we are still totally connected, body, soul and mind.

It is an incredible turn on yes, but it is also a release. It is communication, our secret code. I am hers and she is mine.

She is the only woman who has made me cry during sex, and I don’t mean sobs, but tears of pure pleasure and joy, as I take her to her climax or she takes me to mine. She is the only woman who has seen my dark side, embraced and craved for it. The only one for whom I accept to relinquish power to, to please her. The only one I can show my true self to.

She is my yang. Still

She is mine as much as I am hers, and that’s why this situation was slowly but surely becoming unbearable.

I was growing increasingly frustrated. I couldn't and didn’t want to start another affair. I was the Premier, I wouldn't take the chance; and I refused to use high-class prostitutes as some of my colleagues did.

I wanted my wife.

I couldn't have her.

I started drinking more than usual to relieve the stress.

December came and went. Yet another month without being able to have her.

Our 3rd anniversary was around the corner, a few weeks away.

I was her husband.

I was the Premier.

I had waited over a year. It was time.

((~~!~~))

The week leading to the night that changed our relationship forever was filled with both anticipation and anger.

I hadn't forgotten our anniversary. I had a 5 kilos box of Hediard chocolates sitting on my desk just for her and would be taking it with me tonight. A necklace and earrings set from Chopard would be delivered to the house in the morning as we would be having breakfast and starting out another year as a married couple. I had it all planned out.

I knew Vic had cleared my schedule with my assistant for our diner rendez vous at Centrepoint that night. I was looking forward to it, but I was also scared she would deny me once more, chocolates notwithstanding, and I knew I simply would not take it.  Not anymore. I had become angry with her in the past few weeks wondering how much more I was supposed to play eunuch for her.

I started to drink at the American Club at 6 pm that evening; I knew I was supposed to meet her at 8 at the restaurant as she had requested, and I figured, I had time to loosen up a bit. I was eager to see her but also apprehensive. 

I continued to drink as acquaintances would stop by to chat, and before I realized, I was quite intoxicated and the clock showed 8.30 pm. I knew she probably had tried to ring me, but I had turned my mobile phone off upon leaving the office with the box of chocolate in hand, ordering my staff not to disturb me under any circumstances that evening.

9.30 pm came, and still at my chair, I knew she would be furious. Probably furious and worried sick. I simply could not force myself to move, even though the Centrepoint building was only a 5 minutes walk away. I was in a buzz.

By midnight, I had polished ¾ of a bottle of Glenfiddish 30 years-old reserve that the waiter had left in front of me as I had instructed him to bring it over after the 6th drink.

I was drunk, and I was horny.

I decided to go and look for my wife.

I was yearning for her, she was mine, and I would no longer be denied.

I don't know what time it was when I finally made it home.

I went straight to her bedroom where I knew she would have fallen asleep.

I opened the door, and the dim bedside lamp on the nightstand was still on, allowing me to look at her.

She was breathing softly, he head resting on the pillow, her face surrounded by her lovely curls.

She was beautiful.

She had on a soft pink and black silk gown that I'd never seen before and her body was turned towards the beside table giving me and uninterrupted view of her plunging neckline and mounds that were stretching, squeezed against the fabric, her chest gently heaving up and down...

Her left nipple was actually almost out of the gown, inviting...

Barely held in position by her arm against it...

Begging to be licked and sucked...

I couldn't resit.

As I approached the bed and fell onto my knees only inches away from her body, still watching her, I knew what I was about to do was wrong.

My last thought was, ‘I'm going to hell for this.’ as I placed a few kisses on her neckline, and finally my mouth latched on the tender flesh of her nipple.

A better man would have stopped right there. Hell, a better man wouldn’t have been in that room!

Her nipple became hard in my mouth, my hand cupping her breast and rubbing it while I was sucking and chewing, my balls started to hurt, and her body tensed up.

I felt her protest, felt her trying to pull away, but I didn't let her. Instead pulling her warmth closer to me, I draped my powerful legs over her own so she couldn't get away, and slid my other arm to her throat before ripping the gown off her body.

Better man be damned…I couldn’t— wouldn’t stop.

I needed her skin exposed. I had craved her warmth and her touch, but most of all I had craved her. My manhood was hardening to the edge of painfulness as I felt her nipple harden more against my tongue and the closeness of her body turned me on beyond reason.

My hand slid down her body, my leg pulling back and forcing her to open her own, so my hand could glide between her legs, my finger trailing down her slit until I found her moist opening. Her clit was swelling and I told her so, as she was crying and trying to fight me off.

I could feel her hips twisting, as she was trying to pull away, but it had the effect to make me rock hard, and aroused me more.

I kissed her. She bit me.

I licked her neck as I could taste the blood, and pushed my member inside her.

She screamed.

I wanted her, needed her.

I no longer cared.

I was acting like a mad man.

I was a mad man.

Taking my own wife against her will.

Raping her.

I couldn't think clearly anymore. A deep groan came out of my throat as I could feel her muscles clenching around my pulsating member.

That's all that mattered to me, as I pounded her more forceful, more needily, until I finally felt the familiar tingling and knew I would come within seconds.

I cried out when it happened, looking into her eyes, before collapsing.

I lay there trying to catch my breath unable to utter a single word.

I could see and hear her cry.

I knew what I had done.

There would be no turning back from this.

I saw her get up, semen leaking from her body.

I closed my eyes, the image, unbearable.

The next morning, the rays of sun through the blinds of her bedroom awakened me.

I was still on her bed, and within minutes, the recollection on how I had ended up here came back to me. I felt bile rising in my throat, rushed to the bathroom only to realize the door was locked.

She was still in it.

I went to our bedroom, used our bathroom, cleaned myself up, called my assistant to cancel all appointments of the day, and went downstairs to wait for her.

I didn't know what I would say to her, but I knew no apology would ever be enough.

When she came down, she saw me from the stairs, and as I got up to walk towards her, she ran back up and locked herself in her room.

I spent the entire day waiting for her in the living groom.

She didn't come back.

I spoke to Marina that evening explaining that Vic was ill and on bed rest and would require all her meals brought to her until she was better.

I was worried sick, and wanted to speak to her but she stayed in her room for 10 days straight while I had been working from home as much as I could in the hope of seeing her. It didn’t happen.

I had to go to New Zealand for 2 days and couldn't cancel the trip. I was terrified she would leave in my absence, so I asked one of my bodyguard to actually watch the house from afar, and follow her if she ever came out during that period of time. I wanted to know every detail of any activity while I was gone, and he had me on speed dial.

The first call came the same day, when the guard informed him she had gone to the doctor's office.

I figured she was still feeling some pain, and hoped with medication, she would heal. At least on that front, anyway.

The second call came the next day, and was much more alarming, when the guard told me, she had driven to the police station and had stayed in over an hour. 

I took that detail in, and rang my personal long time friend and political ally, the Commissioner of police asking him to find exactly what had transpired at that precinct, and call me back immediately.

These were longest 39 minutes of my life. He informed me of my wife allegations, and reassured me that the report had been taken care of, and I was not to worry. He advised me to keep the Mrs in check, though, because he could not guarantee his help if she persisted. I exhaled, took an hour break from my activities to think about a plan.

Once I had it, I made the call.

I rang Vic with the intent to put the fear of God into her. I hated doing it but I had no choice. Call it plain fear or survival instinct; I informed her that I knew what had happened at the police station and that I was going to punish her upon my return. I could hear her voice tremble as she had tried to deny it, but when I told her, I had her followed, she remained silent, and I knew I had won.

I had no intention to harm her. Not ever again.

I just needed her to believe I would.

And because my wife was already afraid of me, - or so, I thought- I didn't have to push very strongly to convince her.

I couldn't have the reality of what I had done to her hit the Sydney rumor mill, or worse the newspapers. Never mind, criminal charges.

When I arrived home that very late evening, she had been there waiting for me completely submissive, dismissive even.

I really believed, my plan had been working. That I had gotten myself some time to find a way to fix things between us. And for the next 3 weeks she had been nothing but amenable when not aloof, never referencing to that fateful night. She held her hand up every time I had tried to talk about it. And try, I did. Not because I was looking to excuse myself –Let’s be honest, an apology would be a bit short, wouldn’t it? – But, because I knew what I had done would have long-term consequences for her, for us, and to be candid, I was afraid.  I raised the subject of helping her get though the ordeal by involving third parties to support her: a doctor, her friends, her bother even; and she stunned me with a calm response, declaring, ”It was a one time shocking incident E. Nothing more, nothing less. I don’t need help. I need to move on and so do you.”  She had looked at me with empty eyes and stated we needed return to normal and dwelling on it wasn’t the right path to achieve that goal. I imputed her strange reaction to inner strength or intense denial. Either way, I was glad she hadn’t packed her bags, so, I let it go because truth is I was afraid voicing it aloud would remind her she was sharing the house of the monster who did this to her. I was a coward and followed her lead; because it was the easy way out to sustaining being in the same room together. We shared our meals together when I was home, and she didn't even wince when I bid her goodnight before retiring into our bedroom while she still stayed in her guestroom.

She had even accepted to attend a public event with me the Inauguration ball that would happen like every year on March 17, over a week away.

I should have known better...

The call came on March 9 at 7.40 in the morning as I was running late and almost at the door, about to leave for my office.

Dr Glaser's secretary was calling to confirm my wife appointment for this very afternoon, and had tried her cell phone, which was on voicemail, but wanted to make sure she got the message, as this appointment had been rescheduled twice already apparently.

I told her I would make sure my wife got the correct time and not to bother her again, and as I was going to hang up, she congratulated me, babbling that I must have been feeling ecstatic since it was our first baby…

The call ended, and I remained in our foyer, stunned.

Vic was pregnant.

My wife is pregnant, with my child.

And she hadn't told me anything.

Which could only mean one thing: she didn't plan to. She planned to leave.

So, I didn't say anything to her, but left a note for Marina to remind her about her appointment, and left for the office.

It took me almost the entire day to get my bearings back.

I was going to be a father, and our baby had been conceived under the most horrific circumstances.

I needed to find a way to prevent my wife from leaving me.

I was going to be a father.

I watched her like a hawk the remainder of that week, noticing the whispered talks while the shower was running, the looks of hatred she would give me when she thought I had my back to her, and I knew in my guts she would try to run on the night of the ball.

The truth is, it’s one thing to know something is coming, but quite another to actually control your reactions when what you fear the most happens.

I had spoken to the same bodyguard who watched her for me a couple of weeks back and asked him to follow her even to the ladies room that night and call me if she stepped a foot out of the ballroom.

He had rung while following the taxi that apparently from the route taken was going to drop her off at home.

He assured me he would stay in front of our gate until I arrived.

I was home within 10 minutes, and entered the house through the terrace’s door, without flicking any light, while she was still upstairs.

I poured a glass of Glenfiddish to settle my nerves, to do what I was about to do, without flinching.

I couldn't let her leave.

                                                                 ((~~!~~)) 

And here I was, waiting for her.

I was her husband.

I was her rapist.

I had no choice.

I couldn't let her go.