Gut Feelings

GUT FEELINGS - by Dave MacMillan

I hope you enjoy this chapter. Hmmmm ... 8 chapters down and 11 more to go - I guess the July 2001 installment will be the last one of this novel.

I'll have a webpage up and running inside the month. You'll be able to find out about my 4 anthologies currently available (and updates on the next 3)and order them. You'll even be able to get autographed copies from my local gay/lesbian bookstore. I'm looking to offer my 3 gay-themed mainstream novels at $US5 apiece (crime, historical, and supernatural political thriller), as well as several collections of my short erotica. I'm even going to make available the complete stories of these 4 novels running as serials on Nifty. They and the collections will sell for $US3.

And, as a born-again slim (and healthy) gay man (well, not slim yet, I've still got almost 50 lbs to go - but I've nearly 65 behind me these past 3 mos), I'll definitely be making the same weight loss programme I'm using available to anyone who really wants to be healthy and look good too.

That's sometime in August, tho. In the meantime, new chapters have been added to The Learning Season (adult/youth), Learning To Fly (college), and Confessions Of A Vampire (scifi). Every other week I add a new chapter to Growing Up Sexual in young friends. Please read them. Even more important, please enjoy them. Please let me know what you think of them too. Like any writer, I need your feedback. Write me at vichowel@aol.com.

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Chapter 8

"Inspector Goodson!" Trell jumped from the chair and turned to face me as soon as I had opened the door.

I noticed the wide smile on his face immediately.

"I saw a drug deal last night," he said before I could enter my office properly.

I stopped and stared at him. "Where?"

"At the leather club last night, sir. We were chatting, me and Shep-"

"Shep?" I asked as I crossed to my desk.

"The Yank I told you about yesterday, Inspector," he explained. I sensed a strange petulance to his words but decided not to explore it.

"The leatherman who was going to show you the money shot?"

"Right." Trell nodded vigourously. "We were chatting when he nudged me with his elbow." He chuckled embarrassedly. "I thought he was going to try sometime, sir. I was pulling myself up and getting huffy and all-"

"He had seen the drug deal?" I asked hurriedly.

"Right, he had. He put a finger to his lips and turned to face me, sir. I didn't know what was happening." Trell's face flushed. "I thought it might look like he was licking my ear. He told me what was happening behind him - whispered it to me, he did."

"I suspect you two like that would be rather normal in that club," I told him. It was all that I could do to keep my tone serious. I would have loved to have seen Sergeant Trell and his lad making out - even if it was only a pretence. "I realised that after I understood what Shep was doing, sir - still, it was quite embarrassing - me being a police officer and all."

"Policemen snog," I mumbled and grinned.

"Not with another lad, they don't!"

"Go on, Trell. What did you see?"

"There was this young bloke who looked to be chatting up a slightly older lad. The young one was in jeans and vest - a blond boy, slim but with a six-pack to him - he reached into knapsack, pulled something out, and handed it to the bloke he was chatting with-"

"You didn't see what it was?"

"No, sir. It was dark there in the corner and the lads were both quick."

"But what he took out of the knapsack - it was small?"

"Yes, sir. The other bloke covered it with just his one hand."

"Go on."

"The lad in leather put whatever it was in-" Trell's face turned the colour of beetroot. "You know how those lads wear these leather chaps so they'll look like some Yank cowboy?" I nodded. "And they cover themselves with a plastic cup - a posing cup, I guess it is - so they're decent?" I waited. "He put it down in that cup, sir - right there with his-" He again turned the colour of beetroot. "His willie, sir."

It was all that I could do not to laugh. "I suppose that would be a rather safe hiding place," I offered quietly. "Not too many lads digging around there without permission."

"Those were my thoughts exactly, sir."

"What happened then?"

"The leatherman looked around and pulled out his wallet. He took out some bills and gave them to the boy. They kissed and the boy left the club."

"Were you able to get their names?"

"The blond lad was named Mick. The bartender told me that. Neither he nor Shep knew the leatherman who bought the drugs, though."

"You would recognise them if you saw them again?" He nodded. "Write it up then, Trell. Work on the description of both men, would you?" He nodded again. I shoved my hand across the desk at him. "Good work, Trell," I told him as he took it. "Very good work. Now, we have a description of someone selling this stuff."

"I did good then, sir?" Trell asked, seeming surprised.

"You did very good," I told him and meant it.

"I'd better get you a coffee then, sir-" He looked sheepishly down at his hands. "I forgot to make it for you this morning."

By the time Trell returned, I had the location in Sussex of the Russian-owned estate where I would be spending the weekend with Brett. I had also requested the two young policemen who had used my spare room so completely. I would have them assigned to me before nightfall. They would be in place for this weekend soiree the Russians were having.

Trell placed a cup of coffee on the desk before me. "Just the way you like it, sir," he said.

"Thank you, Sergeant," I said without looking up.

"I know you're undermanned, Inspector, but I'd like to take the weekend off - if it's possible, that is."

I looked up then, all thoughts of the coming weekend with Brett Chandler instantly forgotten. Despite what had been said about Trell in his years with CID, he was always available - even at Christmas and Easter. And, if he was involved on a case, he followed it doggedly. There had never been any indication that he was a slacker. Now, he was asking me for a weekend off in the middle of a drug investigation.

"This is unlike you," I told him.

"I told him I couldn't, sir. I don't know why I decided to try. Forget I said anything please, Inspector."

"Who?"

"Shep. He asked me to join him and some of his mates-"

"Doing what?"

"Fishing, sir. One of his mates has a place in Wales - and I've never been fishing with a group of men."

I digested this. Trell would be out in the wilds with lads from the leather club where he'd witnessed a probable drug sale last night. If he kept his ears open, he might learn something. But these men were homosexual and into domination and submission. I could well imagine what would happen once they were on their Welsh river. I looked at Trell and could actually see the yearning in his face.

"You know these men are homosexual, don't you?" I asked softly, forcing reality into whatever thoughts he had on the subject.

"Yes, sir."

I twisted my lips into a good natured grimace. "We might could well learn something, Trell. Keep your eyes and ears open. You can consider yourself undercover this weekend, if you'd like."

He stared at me. "You're actually saying I can go, Inspector?"

"I'm telling you to go out and enjoy yourself. Relax. Do things you want to do. And listen for anything that may have to do with heroin."

He was grinning broadly as he turned toward the door. "Trell?" He turned back to face me. "Did you ever see that money shot you were talking about?"

The poor man instantly turned the colour of beetroot again. "Well?"

"Yes, sir," he mumbled.

"And?"

"It's a toss off, Inspector. Shep just wanked himself there in this circle of men - and he tossed off."

I wanted desperately at that moment to know what Trell had thought of his experience but knew that was private. "And this pinning you mentioned?"

He blinked but this one did not embarrass him. "That was passingly strange, sir. I didn't understand it at all."

"What?"

"Shep had this container of hypodermic points, sir. That's what the bartender said they were. He stood there with his shirt and waistcoat off and stuck them in himself."

"What?" I stared at him. The idea of it was insane.

"Just under the skin, Inspector. And through his tits, of course. He didn't bleed at all."

"Was this supposed to be erotic?" I wondered aloud, though I didn't really want Trell's thoughts on the subject.

"He became erect, sir. Several of the lads around him did too. That's when he did the money shot."

"Enjoy yourself this weekend," I told him and was quite happy that nothing I had heard of my coming weekend suggested such insanity for me.

I arrived at the Barrow Building ten minutes before Brett had said his marketing class would be over. Climbing the stairs to the second floor, I dived into the swirling muck that was my thoughts about the American.

I doubted that the coming weekend in Sussex would be more than an orgy. I simply had never had the resolution of a case land in my lap in a nicely tied package and was unready to begin to believe in miracles this late in the game. Despite my suspicions about Brett's Russians as a lead, I was grateful to the lad for uncovering it, as well as being willing to help me explore it.

I also recognised that Brett Chandler was one of the most attractive men I'd ever seen. In addition to his face and body, his mind and personality were as attractive. He had bloody well worked himself inside the barriers I hadn't known that I had. I was interested in him, intrigued by him - and that made me uncomfortable. But I was on the second floor of Barrow Building to go on a date with him.

I didn't understand myself when it came to this lad from America. It wasn't as if I were a teenage virgin here. Over the years, I had had sex with a number of men, and none of them had ever pulled at me as Brett was doing. Before, there had always been a mutual sexual attraction and we satisfied it together - as I had with both the Welshman and the Irish lad, or even the young policemen of last night. Sated, we had changed the sheets and got on with our separate lives. If we got together again, well and good - but it wasn't a necessity. I wanted to be with Brett, however. Sex was part of that desire, as was friendship. Even togetherness. I could see us shopping for clothes at Harrods. Bloody hell, I could even see us squeezing plums at a greengrocer's! And I wanted to hold him to me as we fell asleep at night.

He had a reputation that made me even more uncomfortable. From the rumours, he had never had a second date with a man. Would that be my fate too? I hoped not. I knew I was quickly becoming infatuated with him. I wanted more than just one time with him.

That was barmy as hell. Brett Chandler was a cross-dresser. My cupboard would have dresses in it. I'd have effeminate, squealing girl-boys visiting at my flat and make-up on my dresser. He would probably even want to hire an interior decorator who would redo my nice, comfortable flat into a woman's boudoir.

And he was a bloody Yank. Not that I had anything against Americans. But they did have their own country and tended to return to it after they'd visited England. The United States was also considerably further away from London than the Netherlands or France - no hour-long flight or drive through the chunnel for a weekend of togetherness there.

"Hi, Phillip." The voice was nearly at my ear. I jerked, barrelling out of my revelry. Brett was standing at my side, smiling. "Such a serious face," he said. "Want to tell me about it while we have a late lunch someplace?" "What would you like to eat?" I asked evenly, once again completely in control of myself.

"That's a loaded question if I ever heard one," he chuckled. "But we'll leave that one for later - when we're more private." He shrugged. "Just about anything, though I haven't had Chinese in a long time."

"Chinese it is then," I agreed. "There's a nice restaurant in Hampstead, near my flat."

I watched Brett as we left the building and walked to my car, as we drove to Hampstead. Studied is perhaps a better word; I was consciously aware of him. I wanted something with which to dislike him - a defence behind which I could barricade myself from him.

He avoided any physical contact; yet, he was completely friendly - a gregarious American out with a friend. He was curious, alert, and witty. There was nothing effeminate in his public behaviour. I saw nothing of the cross-dresser about him. I also saw nothing of the trickster I had met the last time I'd seen him.

"I'll have two police officers with us in Sussex," I told him as he bit into an egg roll.

His eyes suddenly teared and he quickly swallowed. He grabbed his glass of water and drained it. "Jesus!" he groaned, wiping his eyes with his napkin and staring at the mustard. "That is some strong shit!"

"You don't have mustard in America?"

"We have mustard, Phillip. We even have the pretty hot stuff that gets served at Chinese restaurants. But, at least in Atlanta, we don't have anything like this." He made a wry face. "Tell me about these police officers. Are they going to stick out like sore thumbs?"

"Stick out-?"

"Are they your typical cop - middle-aged, balding, pudgy to fat, dull, and authoritarian as hell?"

I stared at him in surprise and wondered why he would even associate with me if he thought so little of policemen. "I think that description fits very few of us, Brett," I told him.

"You've never been to Atlanta, much less Georgia, then. Did you see that lumbering ox the FBI thought bombed the Olympics? That's what most cops look and act like back home."

"I hope you think of me differently."

He smiled. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be here now. And I wouldn't be going out this place the Russians have. What're these cops of yours like?"

"They're just out of the police training college. Bright young lads. Gay. One's Asian, the other is English."

"Asian? He's Chinese then?"

I blinked at his conclusion. "His family's from India. A dark-skinned lad. Nice looking."

"And the English guy?"

"Blond, my height. Nice looking as well."

"And they're gay?"

"Definitely."

"Hmmm - I'd better not ask how you know that." I felt my face grow warm. "Okay, so we all need to meet at Waterloo Station at three on Friday. The train leaves at a quarter after."

"You've checked this?"

He chuckled. "Phillip Goodson, I may be blond and cute, but I do have brains. I also use them."

"That's good."

"So, these guys can pass for students, along with Richard and me. You're going to have to be a grad student, maybe working on your PHD- " He grinned. "And you'll be my lover too. That'll keep Illyich's hands off me."

"You think you can put up with me past the one time?" I asked and immediately felt stupid for doing so.

He leant over the table, his hand closing on mine. "I hope so, Phillip," he said quietly. "I really do hope so."

Brett stepped into my flat and turned to watch me shut the door. He was smiling when I looked toward him. "I want you to fuck me, Phillip," he said. "I've wanted that since I saw you with Aled the other night-" He frowned before I could move an inch. "No, I don't want you to fuck me. I've had too much of that this past year. I want you to make love to me."

Standing under the hall light, his hair was spun gold. His eyes twinkled as they gazed at me. I thought he was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. I wanted to make love to him - with him. I wanted to love him. And I knew I was lost. And, at that moment, I knew I no longer cared.

I stepped up to him and picked him up in my arms. His arms went around my neck and his face approached mine. He kissed me then. Tenderly. Gently. We remained in the entrance hall, me standing and him in my arms. Our tongues explored each other's mouth lovingly.

Brett broke away from the kiss and studied my face. He brought a finger up and traced my jaw. Finally, he sighed. "You're like a naked light bulb, Phillip - and I've just found out I'm a damned moth. Shit! I figured it'd happen sooner or later - but I didn't expect it to be this soon." He raised his head and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Get me to the bed, boy! I might as well find out what the rest of being in love is like."

I carried him through the living room to the bedroom and I didn't feel his ten stones. I felt as if I was walking on air. His finger continued to trace my jaw but, now, would move up to trace my lips before returning to my jaw. I laid him on the bed and reached down to remove his trainers. He pulled my face back to his, and his kiss was hungry and demanding.

He pulled me down onto him and held me to him with his arms tightly around my waist. Through our clothes, I felt his hard nipples against my chest, his cock against mine.

He ground against me as we continued to kiss, my hands cupping his face. "I'm getting close," he groaned as he turned his head. My tongue traced his jaw up to his ear. "Phillip, I want to be naked and with you inside me when I come for you. Please?"

I forced my knees onto the bed, I made myself push off of him and to straddle his legs. He smiled up at me. "It's been sort of fun so far," he chuckled.

"What's that?"

"This being in love thing. I've never been kissed like that before. It just felt so complete."

"It's different," I admitted. "But definitely nice." I frowned. "Perhaps we should get naked?"

"That's probably a good idea."

"I just want to hold you, to feel you-"

"You'll be doing that - we will - after we're naked."

"But we won't while we're taking off our clothes."

"Yeah. That part's the bitch - only, it's probably worth it. You know, to really touch and feel."

"Probably." I didn't want to move. I did, but I wanted to again be holding him close, to be kissing him again. Undressing put a distance between us and, right now, I didn't want any sort of distance from Brett Chandler.

"Let me up," he grumbled. "I've got to get naked, babe."

I fell onto my hip, my legs falling over the side of the bed. I pulled my shirt off and toed off my own trainers. I glanced back at Brett and saw he, too, had his shirt off and was working his jeans over his hips. I intensified my own effort, standing up and quickly working the belt, button, and zip of my own.

I was naked a moment later when I sat on the side of the bed again. Naked and proudly erect. It was the first time in more than ten years that I had thought about being naked and hard and proud, all in the same thought. Brett made me feel that way. It was a good feeling. I turned back towards him and, lying on my stomach, rimmed his bellybutton as he was pushing his trousers and pants past his ankles.

"Jesus, don't! Please don't, Phillip!" he gasped and shuddered and pulled away so that he could get his jeans past his toes.

His cock was hard as it jutted out from his trimmed pubes. It was small. But that didn't bother me. I saw it as a comfortable mouthful without thinking about it. "I want you in me," he cooed as he lay back on the bed and pulled his jeans over his feet.

"Come here," I growled and took him into my arms, pulling him roughly to me. He was mine. All mine.

His knees landed on either side of my chest. His small cut cock jutted out of his blond pubes, calling me to rise and take it. He wiggled his hips, forcing his knob-end to cross my lips, spreading pre come across them. My hands went to his hips and pulled him forward. I opened my mouth and let him inside me. He moaned and shoved his hips towards me.

I swallowed him, burying my nose in his pubes. My fingers kneaded his arsecheeks even as they searched for his crack. My flexing throat muscles milked his cockhead, and he moaned again. "Do much more of that," he gasped, "and I'll be shooting all over the place before you know it."

He leant over my face until he supported himself on both his knees and elbows. He began to hump my mouth slowly. My hands rode his flexing hips. I began to suck.

His dick rode the chute I'd made of my tongue. His knob-end ploughed roughly between my tonsils. I moved one hand to his crack and began to search for his bumhole.

"Sweet Jesus!" he cried when I began to rim the wrinkled sides of his rear entrance with a finger. He bucked and lost his rhythm as that finger entered him. "I'm close, Phillip," he gasped and increased the speed of his strokes. "So close."

My finger found his prostate and he groaned. His cock grew and slammed into my throat once again. This time, though, it stayed there and I realised every muscle in Brett's body had stiffened. His breathing was ragged. His belly pressed against my face.

His first volley erupted then, hitting the back of my throat.

I turned my head slightly - to be able to breathe and to taste him. He shuddered as a second round filled my mouth. I swallowed just as he had his third eruption.

Tremors ran through his body. I rolled us so that he was lying on his back and I was between his legs. His eyes were closed. He spread his legs wide. I began to lick him clean and delighted in the shudders that ran through him. "Please, Phillip-" he moaned as his hands cupped my face. "I'm too tender-" A tremor seized his body and he jerked my mouth off his dick. "Just hold me for a few minutes, okay?" He opened his eyes and focused on me. "Please?"

I fell onto the bed beside Brett and he immediately snuggled up against me, his cheek against my chest and his arms around my waist.

"The first time I saw you," he began after his breathing had become normal, "I knew you were dangerous." His lips moved to encircle my closest nipple. "I just didn't know how dangerous."

"Dangerous?"

"Yeah." He licked slowly over my pec up to my arm. "I think I'm in love with you."

"Then, you've been just as dangerous, lad."

"Hmmm?" His lips were back to my nipple and had been joined by his teeth. I rolled onto my back, bring him along with me. With his body lying on mine, I said: "I haven't been able to get you out of my thoughts since I saw you, Brett. I've wanted you ever since."

"I guess we've both got it then. Do you think it's terminal?" I laughed and he worked his hand between our bellies to find my prick. "Feels like you've got it bad right now, Inspector. Where do you keep the rubbers?" "You're up to it already?" I asked.

"I want you inside me. I want to feel you where I know you belong. So, where are they?"

"In the cabinet," I told him. "Top drawer."

He pushed off me and crawled across the bed. "Think I ought to bring over a couple of them?" he asked as he reached into the drawer.

"I think you've got sex on the brain."

"I've got Phillip Goodson on the brain," he growled and crawled back to straddle my legs. "And I want to have him in me every chance I get." He tore open the foil packet. He reached for my hard prick then.

Pulling it towards him, his fingers pulled the loose skin up onto my helmet. He paused then, studying my prick. "You know, I'd never seen a foreskin before I came to England."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Oh, I'd seen them in videos a couple of times but never the real thing." He looked pensive for a moment. "I want to try something, Phillip."

I forced myself from the sexual fog I'd slipped into when he'd got a condom. "What?" I asked.

He lay down beside me. "Face me. I want to see what docking's like." I turned to face him. "Docking?"

He grinned. "You'll see." He moved on the bed until our crutches faced each other. Thrusting his hips forward, the helmet of his dick touched mine. His fingers encircled my shaft again and pulled the skin onto my knob-end and then over most of his.

"Now what?" I asked, now intrigued by this sexual experiment.

He started to wank us slowly, using my foreskin to slide over our helmets. "I think it'd probably work better if I had some skin down there too," he grumbled several moments later.

I studied our union for a moment. "I suspect so," I told him.

He smiled up at me. "Well, I don't. So, I guess you'll just have to be satisfied with fucking me instead." He pulled away and bent over to lick the helmet of my prick. I lay back on the bed and opened my legs. Quickly, he rolled the condom onto me before straddling my waist.

He leant over and kissed me as his hand searched behind him for my prick. When he found it, Brett began sliding his bottom over my belly. I felt the hot, creamy insides of his arseglobes surround my cock.

He stopped when he had me centred at his entrance. He smiled at me and began to sit on his haunches. The head of my cock slipped inside of him and he frowned. "You're a very big boy, Phillip Goodson," he said and began to sit down on me. Inch after inch of my prick slid into him. Slowly. His dick lost its rigidity. I realised that he was moving on me so slowly because of pain. "I don't want to hurt you, love," I told Brett. "We can do it from a different position."

"No-" He took a deep breath and forced the rest of my prick into his arsehole. "I don't know why everybody makes this out to be the best way to get fucked," he grumbled. "It's always been a real pain in the butt for me." He wiggled his hips slowly, carefully. Finally, he lifted his bottom off my crutch by an inch or two and sat back down on me. "Okay, I'm open and you feel good inside me." He grinned down at me. "So what're you waiting for? Fuck my ass good, Phillip Goodson."

I reached between his legs and gripped his cock - and felt it come back to life as I rubbed my thumb over its smooth, bare head. He raised his bottom several inches and held himself there until I was flexing my hips under him, pushing into him and falling back out.

My fingers explored his hard belly and rose up to pull at both of his nipples. He groaned and began actively to participate in our love-making. My hands moved down to his arsecheeks and, holding them, began to raise and lower in synchronisation with my thrusts.

"You feel good inside me," said Brett as he gripped his dick and began to wank, working into the same rhythm I was using in his bum.

I moved my hands up his back and, pulling him down on me, rolled us over until he was on his back and I was on top of him. "I thought you'd never get the idea," he groaned and smiled up at me as his legs clamped around my waist and his heels pressed against my arse. "Just where I want you." His hands cupped my face. "Now you can kiss me while you fuck me." His face swam up towards mine and our lips met.

Our tongues duelled as we moved against each other. Brett's arse rose to meet my every thrust, the muscles of his love canal rippled and clenched at my prick as I withdrew. His cock rode my belly and oozed pre come. My bollocks ground against his bottom each time I plunged into him.

I rode the rising tides of pleasure spreading through me. But I was never not aware that this was Brett Chandler with me. That it was the two of us making love to each other. Together.

His legs stiffened around my waist and I felt the first blast of jizz skim across my belly. His face jerked away from mine and he gasped for breath. His arsemuscles clamped tightly around my prick, rushing me toward orgasm with him. His body convulsed against mine.

I resisted the instinct to follow him. I stayed buried in his arse and didn't move, riding his orgasm out. When he had shuddered the last time, he looked up at me and smiled sheepishly. "I don't usually get that carried away," he said. "It's okay. I like to watch you toss off, love."

His eyes widened slightly and he wiggled his bum tentatively. "You're still in me?" I nodded. "Didn't you come?"

"I thought you might like twice this afternoon." "Oh, shit!" He grinned. "Oh, yeah!"

I started to move in him again - long, slow strokes. "It feels so good," he mumbled.

"Enjoy it then, Brett."

"You too, honey. I want to make it as good for you as it is for me - oh!" I felt the hard swell of his prostate slide along the length of my prick as I thrusted into him. "Jesus!" he yelped and threw his hands around me.

We rocked together, making love leisurely. I nibbled at one and then the other of his nipples as my fingertips stroked his flanks. His hands caressed my back down to my buttocks and back again as he chewed one earlobe before moving to the other one. His cock was erect again and rode my belly. His love canal stayed tight and his muscles there again began to flex against me, gripping and releasing my prick.

Too soon, my bollocks began to ride the shaft of my cock and my thrusts into him had become shorter and harder. "Hold on a little longer, honey," Brett groaned and began to wank himself against my belly. "I'm almost there."

I began to plough into him hard. His hand snaked between us and, grabbing his dick, began to pound it.

I rammed into him, my prick engorging with blood and my bollocks churning with the explosion they were about to release. His eyes screwed shut and he gasped as he tossed himself off. I rammed into him again and his muscles closed around my cock, milking it. I groaned as I began to fill the condom. One more short, instinctive thrust and I buried myself in his arse as we both surrendered to our orgasms.

"What do we do for an encore after that," he mewled as his lips nuzzled my chest.

"I thought a film and dinner after?"

He pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Sounds like shower time then."

"Right. Want to take one together?"

He shuck his head. "We'd better not. I want to be tight enough to get you off tonight when we go to bed. Letting you anywhere near me the next couple of hours will leave me so open that you could run a train through me."

I laughed. "Have your shower then, lad."

He pushed off the bed and started towards the bathroom. At the door, he turned and faced me. "Phillip, this thing this weekend?"

"Yeah?"

"It's going to be an orgy-" I shrugged. "It'll be pretty well expected that we join in, you know?"

I hadn't thought about that. I suddenly wasn't happy about him being in Sussex. "Let's make a deal, okay?" I waited. "After Monday, this body of mine is only yours. From head to toe. Any form of sexual activity is with you only. I want the same commitment from you, Phillip - but it starts Monday for both of us."

"You're saying it's all right to have sex with anyone at the Russians' estate?" I asked.

He shrugged and grinned. "Sow your oats while you still can, boy - you're a married man come Monday morning. And you're all mine."

"I think I'll be able to live with that," I admitted.

"I've got until Monday too."

I frowned. "I know."