JESUS WALKED THROUGH Heathrow's terminal 3 carrying an American passport and the hope of great sex. At passport control, Derek, the immigration officer studied the passport and asked him, 'Purpose of visit?'

Jesus replied, 'Visiting a friend.'

'How long are you staying, sir?'

'Three days.'

'May I see your ticket?'

Jesus handed him the ticket. Derek scanned it quickly, and nodding his head returned it to him. Derek checked the address on the landing card Jesus had handed him against a list of suspect addresses on his screen. It didn't match any of them. He was just about to stamp the passport when he noticed something strange.

'One last question, sir?'

'Yes?' Jesus said, tilting his head to one side.

'You don't seem to have a surname. Is that correct?'

'Yes.'

'So, you're just called Jesus?'

'That's correct…and before you ask, I had it changed legally. I'm sure that if it is good enough for the government of the United States, it is good enough for yours.' Jesus said firmly but politely.

Derek looked at the long queue snaking off into the distance. He didn't have time for this today. He was pretty sure the passport wasn't a fake. He flicked through it quickly. It had other stamps in it. He put his own stamp in it.

'Have a nice trip, sir,' he smiled, returning the passport to Jesus. Derek watched him walk away and when he was out of earshot, he picked up his walkie talkie and spoke into it quietly.

'Look out for male Caucasian off AA209 from JFK. ID says he's Jesus. Yeah, mate, you heard me right. About five ten, long black hair, facial hair, jeans, white T, black leather jacket, trainers, and black rucksack….yeah, check the bags, OK.'

The walkie talkie crackled a response. Derek put it down and looking up clocked the cutie from Columbus standing in front of him. Let the others deal with the nutters today, he thought, grinning at her tits in a tight pink T-shirt. Fuckin' Jesus, yeah, right.

In the customs hall, Bert ordered Madge to watch out for the American fitting the description Derek had given him, and to pull him over for a bag search.

'By the way, Derek sez the geezer's name is Jesus…just Jesus,' Bert snorted.

'He could be Hispanic.' Madge suggested, fed up with Bert's racist remarks,
'Better check for the old Colombian then, hadn't we.' Bert grinned savagely at her. Madge sighed. It was only 7.30am and she had a four more hours of her shift with Bert. Madge spotted him first and waved him over.

'Anything to declare, sir?' she asked politely.

Jesus shook his head, 'No.'

Madge knew Bert was watching her as closely as he was watching the handsome young man standing in front of her. Her instincts told that this one would be a waste of time, but she had her orders from Bert who, unfortunately, was a staff level above her. Every day the men she worked with got off on victimising anyone they just didn't like the look of. She wondered how she'd got the job. Although, she admitted to herself, in fairness, having only one name was a bit suspicious.

'I'll have to ask you to open your bag for me, sir' she told him, gesturing to him that he should put it on the table in front of her.

'Why me?' Jesus asked her.

'Nothing personal, sir, we often conduct spot checks,' she smiled at him reassuringly.

'Will it take long? My friend is meeting me.' Jesus asked her.

'Shouldn't do, sir.' Bert was breathing down her neck as Jesus undid the straps of his rucksack.

'Could you remove the contents for me, sir?' Jesus unpacked. Madge watched him. There were two pairs of jeans, three plain white T-shirts, three pairs of socks, three pairs of white cotton boxer shorts and a toilet bag. Madge pointed to it.

'Could you open this, sir?' Jesus opened it and emptied out the contents; a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, disposable razors, shaving gel, comb, unopened box of condoms and a tube of KY jelly. He turned the bag upside down and shook it. Nothing fell out. He handed it to Madge. She couldn't see, or feel, anything either.

'Anything in any of the other pockets?' she asked, patting the rucksack and looking inside.

'Only a book and some chewing gum,' Jesus told her, opening them to show her. He handed Madge the book. She flicked through it then shook it over the table. Nothing fell out.

'What are you hoping to find?' Jesus asked her.

'I'm hoping not to find anything,' she mumbled. She closed the book and looked at the cover.

'Conversations with God,' she read aloud.

'Is it good?' she asked Jesus, smiling.

'It's quite interesting,' he shrugged. Madge was just about to tell him he could repack his bag and go, but Bert had other ideas.

'Excuse me, but I see you have some razors.' Bert puffed his chest out as he spoke.

'Yes?' Jesus responded calmly.

'It doesn't look like you shave, sir.' Bert was sure he was onto something. Madge's mouth fell open.

'I thought I might shave in London, ' Jesus replied 'my ..er…friend, she isn't too keen on it.' Jesus ran his hand over his beard as he spoke and winked at Bert. Madge felt Bert freeze. She turned her head away trying to straighten her face quickly.

Bert didn't like this one bit. The geezer was looking as clean as a whistle and Bert really wanted to nail him for something. Madge was no help. She was soft on these fucking weirdos with their incense, bongo drums and herbal teas. Not that this one had any of those. There was the big box of condoms though, which meant he was getting a lot of that hippy free love. That really pissed Bert off. He had to pay £30 for a bit of hand relief at a house in Hounslow when his shift was finished. If he did enough overtime he could afford a couple a week. Sometimes he had a blow job instead, that was £50, so he could only afford one. Usually he'd go on a Friday, especially if he had Saturday off. Getting blown was his favourite way to start the weekend, but there was no chance of him getting it for free at home.

'Could you empty your pockets?' Bert barked at him, feeling Madge's glare burning a hole through his right temple. Jesus emptied his pockets. There was a wallet containing $50 and £100, a Visa card, a driver's licence and a ticket for New York Public Library. There were a few coins, the stub of a cinema ticket and a card from some Cuban restaurant. Madge pulled Bert back from the table sharply. She whispered through clenched teeth, 'Let him go, he's clean, not even a bloody packet of fags.'

She was just about to let Bert go when she leaned back into his ear and hissed, 'If you don't let him go I'll report you for harassment.' She was taking a risk, Bert being her superior, but she also knew he'd already had a couple of verbal warnings about his treatment of passengers, and if she put in a complaint he could be out.

'Fuck you,' Bert mouthed at her as their eyes locked in a look of mutual loathing. Determined to retrieve some dignity, Bert dismissed Jesus with a peremptory 'You can go,' and stalked off to look for another victim. They should never let women do this job, he thought, a load of bleeding hearts.

Madge didn't say anything as she watched Jesus repack his bag. It was better not to be too friendly. She'd stuck her neck out enough for this guy, and now she needed some professional distance.

'I hope you enjoy your stay in London, sir,' she said in a tone indicating the search was over.

Jesus grinned at her, 'I expect to.' For a moment Madge was dazzled. What a smile, what a mouth. The mouth was moving.

'Perhaps you'd like to keep this. I've finished it. It would make my bag lighter,' he laughed.

'Oh…oh…right.' Madge wasn't sure how to respond. It wasn't very professional to take it, but it did look interesting. It would make a change from Danielle Steele.

'Thanks…I'll look forward to reading it.' Jesus smiled, and walked off waving back at her. Bert sneered silently. He'd watched it all. She'd have to go, he thought, reading their bleeding books now.

Mary M leant against the pillar and pulled her long coat closer around her naked body. Terminal 3 was overheated but there was nothing she could do to stay cool. She stuck inside her coat and sniffed. His email had been specific:

'Meet me naked…and perfume your pussy.'

All she was wearing was a scent she'd bought at Jo Malone called French Limes, a pair of black hold-ups and a pair of black kitten heels. She wondered if passers-by were able to catch a waft of her hot cunt, the musky scent mixing with the perfume he'd asked her wear. She pulled the coat tighter around her and checked the arrivals board again. The sign for flight AA 209 said 'In baggage hall.'

Opening her bag she took out a small mirror and checked her lipstick again. The shade was as red as she could get. She touched it up and rolled her lips together, evening it out. He liked to watch her carmine red lips slide up and down his cock. He liked her to wear that shade of lipstick all the time so he could think about her blowing him wherever they were. She smiled to herself, and almost giggled out loud, just like the first time when he'd loudly whispered in her ear while they were standing in a queue at the supermarket checkout, 'my cocksucker red lips,' squeezing her to him and sticking his tongue in her ear. Everyone had heard him, and he knew it. Geez, he could be so embarrassing sometimes.

She shifted from one foot to the other, her legs getting tired from standing. Come on, come on, she thought, studying the passengers trickling out into the arrivals hall. She was getting a headache from concentrating on them so hard in case she missed him, and he missed her. Her mind ran off on a whole bunch of crazy scenarios. Christ, what if some security guard wanted to search her. She'd already spotted one over by the Bureau de Change who was giving her the once over. Maybe he thought she was a hooker. Was it illegal to work inside the airport, she wondered. She supposed if she was one she'd know the answer to that. She wished she hadn't thought about it, it was spoiling her fun. He'd laugh when she told him.

Dave had clocked her right enough.

'Alpha Two, Alpha Two, are you receiving?' he spoke into the walkie talkie holding it in front of his face.

'Alpha Two receiving Alpha One, roger, roger,' cackled Eddie.

'Get over here quick…by the Bureau in Arrivals. There's a bird you'll want to roger, roger.' Dave and Eddie liked to play bird watching when they got bored.

'Coming right away, Alpha One.' Eddie cackled again. Seconds later Eddie sidled up beside Dave, scanning the hall as if a bunch of guerrillas was going to leap out any minute.

'Target spotted. Five clicks north west,' Eddie announced.

'What the fuck have you been watching?' Dave asked sarcastically.

'Can't remember…Tom Berenger were in it…I like him, top geezer.' Dave shook his head and rolled his eyes at Eddie who took no notice of him because he was too busy wondering what the bird had under her coat, and why she was pulling it so tight when it was so bleeding hot.

'Tasty, eh, Dave?' Eddie nudged his mate.

'Mmm…wonder if she's got stockings on.'

'Phoarr, yeah…I love stockings.' Eddie said it like they were strawberry trifle.

'None of that shoving yer hand up a skirt and finding you're on the wrong side of fucking Checkpoint Charlie…fingers and cocks stay on that side, hot, wet cunts on the other. I have sympathy with those Commies what busted through that Berlin Wall. I tried that one time with Sharon and it cost me a tenner cos I ripped a big hole in her tights and they was Christian Dior or something. Had to take her to some poncy restaurant up West and all. It was only a pair of fuckin' tights for gawds sake. If she'd been wearing stockings…'

'Whah?' Dave grunted at him, making Eddie shut up. Trying to keep his eyes on the posh bird and listen to Eddie's drivel at the same time was very annoying. Dave wondered if she was wearing a thong. He liked looking at quivering ass cheeks no matter what size they were. He loved it in the summer here, catching glimpses of them through thin trousers. White ones were the best for seeing through. He had to restrain himself sometimes from reaching out and grabbing a handful. This one looked like she might be wearing something expensive and lacy. Cream or black would look good on her, with all that red hair piled up loose on top of her head, her pale skin and those red lips. She was tiny. Dave reckoned it'd be easy enough to up end her anytime he felt like it. Throw her over and spread those legs. His hand went to his crotch automatically. Mustn't have a stiffy right now, he thought. He glanced at his watch. Only thirty minutes to go until the end of his shift. He wanted to go to the Gents and give himself a hard, fast wank until he shot his cum all over those red lips. He wished she'd take her coat off so he could see her tits. He put his hand in his pocket and moved his dick into a more comfortable position. It liked this bird, it wanted to be up and out. Eddie interrupted his thoughts.

'Wonder who she's waiting for?' Dave was wondering that as well.

'She looks a bit anxious,' Dave observed. 'Maybe she's been stood up.'

'What!' exclaimed Eddie. 'Is he a madman?'

'D'ya think she's a girlfriend, a mistress or a wife?' Eddie asked him. It was another game they played with lone women. They had no way of knowing if their guesses were right, but they awarded themselves points on a completely obscure and subjective basis, a mistress scoring the highest points, a wife the lowest. It really depended on who could make up the best story. The one with the most points at the end of the week bought the loser a beer. They enjoyed it no matter what their colleagues thought.

Dave and Eddie looked at each other and laughed, saying at the same time, 'Nah…not a wife.'

It seemed to Mary M that everyone had come through arrivals except for the one person she wanted. She looked at the clock. He should have been through ages ago. Maybe he didn't get on the flight. She checked her mobile for messages. Nothing. Maybe he couldn't phone her mobile and had left a message on the answering machine at home. Maybe, maybe…oh god, what should I do, she asked herself. Give him another five minutes, no, ten, well, she didn't have anything else to do, so fifteen. Then she was going.

She felt conspicuous standing by the pillar. She knew the two security guards were watching her. Behind her, WH Smiths had opened. She wandered in and tried to look at the magazines while still watching the arrivals. Her stomach churned. She hadn't eaten any breakfast and she'd hardly slept either. She should have just let him make his way to the house, but he wanted her at the airport and she couldn't refuse him.

Mary M stood by the pillar again, leaning against it a little harder. She was tired. The security guards were still standing over by the Bureau de Change. One of them grinned at her. He had a chubby, shiny red face with round pale blue eyes, a stubby round nose that almost disappeared between his plump pillows of his cheeks. His hair was mousy blonde and so fine you could see his scalp through it. His waistline hung over his trouser belt. Mary M shuddered and looked away.

Suddenly she straightened up, her stomach knotting at the same time. There he was. He was walking towards the end of the barrier, his eyes straight ahead. Had he seen her? She watched to see what he did when he got to the end. He swung straight round in her direction and before she could move he was standing in front of her. He threw his rucksack on the ground and pulled her to him, crushing her mouth with his, his fingers raking through her hair, tugging it down gently.

'What kept you?' she asked him once she had managed to detach herself from his lips.

'Ah, you know, usual problems with officialdom,' he grimaced, sliding his hand between the buttons of her coat.

'I was worried,' she said, kissing his cheek as he managed to cup a breast with his hand.

'I knew you would be,' he laughed. 'You worry too much.'

'I worry about you, mostly,' she frowned at him and mock-pouted her lips.

'C'mon, let's get out of here. I have a lot to do…to you.' He emphasised the last two words, while squeezing her ass with one hand. 'I like the perfume, by the way. You're not wearing too much.' Mary M blushed, and they both laughed. Jesus picked up his bag and they made their way to the trains, her arm wrapped round his waist, her head on his shoulder.

Dave and Eddie watched them leave feeling deeply disappointed. Mistress was off the cards, that geezer couldn't afford one like her. They looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. Lucky bastard, they both thought, and checked their watches to see if their shift had nearly ended; Dave anticipating a furious wank, and Eddie a game of Checkpoint Charlie with Sharon, as she now called it.

They hopped on the northbound Piccadilly line. The carriage was packed with travellers exhausted from overnight flights, all relieved to be one step nearer their hotel or wherever they were going. Jesus studied the tube map.

'Do we go all the way through on this, or do we change somewhere?' Mary M was leaning against the divider between the seats and the door, Jesus was pressed up against her. There weren't any seats left, although Jesus wanted to stand anyway. He'd been cooped up in an economy size seat all night, which on airplanes meant small.

'We change at Leicester Square and take the Northern up to Golders Green. Remember?' she said. She had lived there for just over two years and he still asked her the same question. It was an enclave of wealthy Jews of all types; Orthodox, Conservative and some Reform, although it wasn't quite as liberal as neighbouring Hampstead. Mary M preferred it to Hampstead though. It was a bit more real. Hampstead was awash with Jewish princesses, and their male counterparts preening and whining in the Dôme Café, whilst over in Golders Green their grandparents sat over coffee and strudel grateful just to be there, the numbers still visible on thin, fragile arms. It was also where their baby was buried, in the Jewish cemetery; their beautiful son who had only lived for a few days. They had called him David. That was one reason she stayed in the area. So she could be near him. Jesus had wanted her to move somewhere else, maybe over the river, but she had told him flatly she was staying here or coming back to New York. He didn't argue with her because he needed her to stay in London, but she knew he worried that she was never going to let go of her grief, and even worse, her guilt. He still grieved, she knew that too, but he had no sense of guilt, the feeling that she had, of having done something wrong. He had done and said everything he could to reassure her that it was not her fault, that it was nothing to do with her. Unfortunately, on this one, she couldn't quite believe him. The family, their community, none of them knew about the baby. They didn't even know she was his wife. They had kept it a secret for the sake of their work, but sometimes she wished she could talk to somebody about it. Someday, maybe. She buried her head deeper into his shoulder.

As the train lurched they fell against each other. He nibbled her ear, his hot breath smothering the sounds of the other passengers. He pushed his tongue in and she tried to wriggle away, but she was trapped by his arm on one side and the door on the other. His other hand was inside her coat, feeling for her pussy. His fingers parted her lips and found her clit. She was wet already but he pushed a finger inside her, coating it with juice that he was now rubbing over her hardening nub. She moaned and bit into his jacket, the taste of black leather was like something she had been longing for but had almost forgotten. She didn't know where they were but she hoped it was a long way from Leicester Square. She needn't have worried, by the time they had got to Hammersmith she had come, almost biting through his jacket to stop herself from crying out loud.

'There's time for another,' he'd said, grinning with pleasure.

'I want to wait,' she'd said. 'I want you to hear me, see me and feel me.' She'd rubbed herself against him hard then, feeling the bulge in his jeans. It was too noisy to talk without shouting, so they clung onto each other silently for the rest of the journey until they emerged in the September sunlight at Golders Green.

They walked up the hill from the station, only stopping to buy some fresh bagels. The house, a 1930s semi, was in a quiet, anonymous street off the main road. A huge sycamore tree shaded the front room and kept out inquisitive eyes. He threw himself down in a chair. He looked a bit more tired than usual, she thought. His eyes were heavy and strained. She wished she was able to look after him every day, make sure he didn't do too much. Not that he'd listen, of course, but she could try. She threw off her coat, revealing her naked body and her stocking-covered legs.

'Nice,' he drawled. 'Come here.' She walked over and straddled his lap facing him.

'You have too many clothes on,' she told him.

'Indeed I do,' he smiled. 'I think I'll have a shower first if that's OK?'

'Mind if I join you?' she asked, getting up as she spoke. She pulled him up out of the chair and they went upstairs, him following behind her so he could watch her ass move up and down as she climbed every step.

They showered slowly, savouring the water sliding between their soapy bodies. Then he laid her on the bathroom floor and shaved her pussy. That was what the razors were for. She looked like Botticelli's Venus now, he thought, a naked, virginal body with long, wet, red hair lying over her shoulders. Completely fuckable. With which thought he picked her up, and carried her into the bedroom where he fucked her front, behind and upside down.

'I have to sleep,' he said, as they lay together, her head on his shoulder.

'Me, too,' she mumbled.

When they awoke it was almost dusk. Mary M felt a sharp pang of sadness. They had wasted time sleeping. They only had until Monday together, and they'd spent most of today in a world of separate dreams. She shook his shoulder gently, trying to wake him.

'Shabat shalom,' she said quietly, kissing his forehead. He stirred, and opened his eyes.

'You have been living here too long,' he teased her. She turned her head away. He drew her down to him and kissed her.

'Shabat shalom,' he said gently. 'And may I now fuck my beautiful wife again?'

'How about something to eat first?' she asked, her stomach rumbling.

'Eat my dick,' he laughed.

'I was thinking more of one of Kossoff's bagels,' she replied, struggling against his hand on the back of her head.

'Oy, you Jewish girls, always thinking about food.' But she was halfway downstairs while he was still talking. He followed her down to the kitchen. She handed him a bagel and he tore a piece out of it then pressed it against her lips. She opened them and he slipped it in. Ravenous, they fed each other, opening the fridge and bringing out the cream cheese that they scooped out with their fingers and licked off each other. The slivers of lox they dangled over each others mouths, sitting naked on the kitchen floor, cartons and crumbs lying all around them.

'I feel better now,' she said, lying against a kitchen unit, patting her belly.

'Me, too,' he said.

'Shall we go for a walk?' she asked him.

'Yeah, that sounds good…there are things I need to talk to you about anyway.' He sounded tired, the way he said it was not like him, just like the darkness around his eyes.

They dressed and walked up to Golders Hill Park. It wasn't enormous but it had enough space for a small zoo. He'd been silent most of the way there. She had done all the talking, filling him in on her progress with their work here, the contacts she'd made, the slow but sure steps she had been taking over the last year to find supporters for the cause. He knew most of it, but in recent weeks she'd made contact with influential people who would be a great asset to them when they finally announced themselves to the world. They could only discuss these things face to face. They didn't trust phones or email for anything other than their personal conversations. Even then they were careful.

When they were deep in the park, they sat down on a grassy mound. Then he spoke to her, taking her hand in his as he did.

'The time has almost come. Everything is in place. Are you ready?' He looked into her eyes calmly. She nodded, also calm, but she couldn't help having some misgivings.
He saw them in her eyes.

'What's up, baby?'

'I don't know. You know they're going to hate us. I'm just worried about something happening to you.'

'Like what?' he asked her, bringing her head back to face him.

'I don't know…but…well, I don't entirely trust the Board.' she shrugged, knowing she was opening up a sore subject between them. The 'here we go' look descended on his face immediately, like a Venetian blind.

'Look,' he started, 'I know you think some of 'the Board' as you call them are a bit shaky, but you've no evidence to back that up.'

'I know…it's just a feeling…and I also feel they don't like me.'

'But the whole thing is about you. You're the cause. You and me. Together.'

'Well…Pete for one would prefer it to be just about you.' This conversation was not going the way she wanted. Mary did not want to spend precious time arguing about the guys Jesus surrounded himself with.

'Mary, they're all devoted to us. The whole point is that this time it is not just about me, it's about you and me. That's what's going to blow the minds of the whole of Western civilisation…and topple the churches…and a few other things as well.' He smiled at the thought of what was to come, but it wasn't exactly a smile full of joy.

'OK, OK, if you say so. I'm just not as sure as you are that some of our most trusted supporters are quite ready to see patriarchy overthrown.' She bowed her head, and added, 'Maybe I'm just nervous. It's no small thing we're doing. What if nobody believes us?'

'They will when we show them the evidence. They'll know it's the truth.' He took her face in his hands and kissed her. 'I love you. I worship you, too.'

'Ditto,' she said, kissing him back.

'Let's go have some fun.' He pulled her to her feet and put his arm round her shoulder.

'Like what?' she asked, feigning innocence.

'Like 48 hours of slowfastwild sex…more if you want to stay up all night Sunday.' He squeezed her butt just as a couple of black hats went by, probably on their way to shul for a minyan she thought. She also thought that their look could have turned her to a pillar of salt. Ah well, they'd soon get a shock that would knock the wigs off their wives' heads.

'I'll race you to the house,' she grinned, getting ready to take off.

'You'll never win,' he called after her, giving her a head start.

That's what they did. They spent Saturday and Sunday immersed in sex. They tried every pleasure and position they could imagine. They only stopped to order in food and to talk some more about the coming months, the time when she would finally be able to return to New York and be with him every day. One weekend in every six was not enough for either of them. But he had insisted it was safer if she was here. Not even 'the Board' knew her exact location. That was how Jesus wanted it. Personally, she hoped they hadn't found out. They thought he was in Baltimore right now. It required some very nifty scheduling on her part to get him here when he was supposed to be there. Sometimes they'd nearly come unstuck and had been forced to resort to pulling a few tricks out the bag, but for the most part they'd behaved like everyday people. Well, they were everyday people, they just had a bit of extra knowledge. Jesus and her alone knew the whole story, even the Board only knew about 70% of it.

They were lying in the bath together, facing each other with their eyes closed.

'Could you change my flight for me? I think I'll go back via Boston, if you can do it?'

'Why?' she asked without opening her eyes. She was used to changing tickets for him, but not for much longer she thought thankfully. Just a few more months, just until December.

'I think I'd like to pay Thomas a visit.'

'Any particular reason?' she asked, her eyes open now, her senses alert.

'Like you…just a feeling he could do with a visit. He's feeling a bit isolated. I think he feels I, and the others don't tell him everything.'
'So, I'm not the only one who uses intuition?' she laughed.

'Did I say anything?' he answered, rubbing her clit with his big toe.

'Hey, I'm sore…give me a rest.'

'You can rest for the next few weeks, meanwhile I have KY jelly to ease your pain.'

'What about the flight?'

'I'll eat your cunt out first.'

Wrapping her in a towel he laid her on the bed. He kissed her feet, the cool strands of his long wet hair brushing her legs. He kissed her inner thighs, and unwrapping the towel parted her legs to reveal the sanctuary of her sex. He kissed the smooth skin around it, parting the flesh to admire the delicate veils that protected the mystery.
'This is the mystic rose…' he said to himself quietly, as the tip of his tongue gently pushed aside the opening petals. Slowly, slowly he covered every inch from her clit to her anus and back again. He took her to the edge and brought her back. They lost themselves in rhythms and waves that formed a pathway to the knowledge of all that lay between her legs. When at last he met Her, her orgasm was released. Its force vibrated through his entire mouth, and he absorbed it into him, after which he lapped up the juices that abundantly flowed from her cunt.

He lay beside her quietly, his face covered with the sticky scent of her. She couldn't even move, the orgasm had taken her somewhere beyond her body, which was now trying to catch up.

'Do you want…' she started to ask him. He put his finger on her lips and kissed her. She kissed him and smelled herself.

'No, darling, not now. Maybe, later,' he said tenderly. 'I think we should have a look at those flights, don't you?' She nodded and rolled herself off the bed onto the floor. They laughed as she hauled herself up and found a robe to put on.

'OK, your flight is changed, sir,' she told him. 'It's the 11 a.m. London to Boston. Do you want me to book you on an evening shuttle from Boston to New York?'

'No, that's OK. I think I'll stay over in Boston, get an early shuttle out on Tuesday morning. There's no need to book it. If I don't get on one, I'll just get on the next.'

'What do you want to eat?' she asked, changing the subject. She hated talking about him leaving, it made the fact they only had a few more hours together too real.

'I don't mind. Shall we go out?'

'Yes, fine, but where to?'

'Japanese?' She screwed up her face then changed her mind.

'OK.'

When they returned from the restaurant it was getting late. She reminded him that he would need to be at the airport by about 9.30 a.m.

'Do you want me to come with you?' She always asked him this, usually he said no.

'Yes, if you don't mind getting up so early again.' He was standing behind her, holding her against his chest, both his arms wrapped around her.

'We'd better go to bed then.' She took him upstairs, holding his hand all the way. Then she undressed him and laid him down. Slowly, she covered every inch of his body with her tongue, so lightly that she barely touched the skin, before she finally took his cock in her mouth and played it like a flute until her mouth was filled with his warm, salty cum.

'You're very good, you know that.' he murmured sleepily. In minutes he was asleep with Mary M curled up against him.

In some ways she wished she hadn't come with him. She hated this moment when he would disappear through departures and her last view of him was of his back. They stood to one side of the queue moving through the gate.

'I'll phone you tomorrow when I get back into NY. It'll probably be around 10 a.m. by the time I get in the house.'

'OK, I'll be at home.'

There was so much more she wanted to say to him now, but there wasn't time. Things she wished they'd talked about again over the weekend. She liked to be certain of every detail of their plan, their big announcement. He was a lot less concerned with details, which is why he left them to her.

'I'd better go now.' he said, holding her to him tightly.

'I know.' She held her lips up to his. They kissed for a long time, one becoming two.

'Bye,' he said, backing away from her. 'Oh, by the way, I haven't forgotten it's your birthday on Thursday.'

'Why didn't you bring me a present then?' She stuck out her tongue at him.

'Because, because, because…you'll have to wait and see.' He made a funny face, then blew her a kiss. Then he was gone.

Mary M made the long journey back to Golders Green, fully clothed this time. She cleaned the house, had a sleep and then did some work until she was ready to sleep again. The house was empty without him, and yet she always felt he was present with her. She slept deeply, her cunt throbbing between her legs.

The next morning she got up and out of the house early. She needed to shop and she had a meeting in the West End with a journalist she was hoping would be sympathetic and useful to them when the time came. The journalist thought it was a purely social meeting. He had met Mary M at a singles tantric sex workshop and was flattered when she'd asked if he'd like to meet again, just as friends you understand, she'd told him. Mary M was very good at finding and cultivating future supporters. Jesus ribbed her sometimes about how good she was, how she was better than him. She had time to meet this guy and then get home for J's phone call.

When he hadn't called by 3.30 p.m., she started to get a bit antsy. She'd got back from town about 1.30 p.m., had a sandwich and then gone upstairs for a nap. She'd switched her mobile phone off as well. Now she switched it back on. She'd missed two calls and a text message. They were all from the journalist. She called his number, but it was busy. Then she read the text message, 'Turn on TV!' Maybe the Prime Minister had resigned, or maybe it was something bigger, something like the death of Diana. She didn't feel good.

She turned on the BBC. It took her several minutes for her brain to register what she was seeing, what she was hearing. She froze with shock. He must be stuck in traffic, or stuck in Boston. She tried his mobile. There was no response at all, not even a message to say it was turned off. She took down the emergency numbers, but she refused to phone them yet. She tried Logan airport but there was no way she could get through there. In the event of an emergency they had agreed she was to wait 72 hours before contacting any of the others. Right now she couldn't think about that. All she wanted was for him to call.

Sitting very still she watched the phone rather than the pictures moving silently across the TV screen. She sat as the light faded to dusk and then to dark. Abruptly she stood up and threw her head back. The wail that erupted from her soul pierced the dark sky. She grabbed the neck of her T-shirt in her fists and rent it in two.

She was alone again.++