It started out nice, Russ rolling over to snuggle against last night's root. Pretty sheila, but damn if he could remember her name. Terrie or Carrie or Sherrie. He'd tied one on but good the night before, a blasting headache confirming exactly how bad it got. But looking on the bright side, he wasn't waking up in an L.A. jail cell. Must've been a bonzer wrap party.

His head might hurt, but his cock was begging. Fingers moving easily along Terrie/Carrie/Sherrie's shoulder he nuzzled against her neck and savored the sexed smell of her. Damn, but he hated forgetting names. It always went badly by the end of the date. Was it a date? Or had he picked her up at the party? Bloody hell, this time it was a bit worse than usual. He hadn't done much drinking during the filming and was more than a bit out of practice. He took another sniff of that musky animal scent of human satisfaction. Mmm.

Not like he always got so lucky. Why not take advantage of what he had, soft and willing in his bed, right? Russ looked up. Yup, it was his bed, his hotel room, his suitcase open and ready for travel on the floor.

The girl moaned and rolled onto her back and his eyes went right to those very large breasts, the ones she insisted were real. Now how the fuck could he remember that and not her name? Hell if he cared. A slight shift, a simple adjustment and he was sucking one of those sweet nipples like a nursing nipper. His hand slid down under the sheet and cupped her still wet pussy. He'd been a busy bloke, hadn't he then?

She whimpered and grinned, eyes still closed and without preamble, he simply crawled over her, sliding deep into the hot wetness in one smooth press. Nice, so nice. But he knew as his belly began to tingle that his head wasn't gonna like it much at all, so he moved harder, faster, punishing himself and her until he grunted like a fucking animal and shot whatever he had left in his balls into heaven.

"Oh Bud," she groaned, gasped and sighed.

Ah, well, he wasn't the only one forgetting names that morning. Looking down at her, he finally remembered. He did pick her up at the party and she was one of the crew, that script girl, um, um. "Sherrie," he groaned, please as hell with himself.

Russ dropped into an exhausted sleep and she was gone when he woke.

w

Bags packed, showered and feeling almost human, Russ looked into the mirror and ran a hand over his short buzzed hair. He'd be needing to keep it that way for a while, Hollywood always feeling the need to add or do something else after a film was finished. Funny, in Oz, when a film was done, it was done, end of story. Not so with the big money productions. He eyed himself. The haircut made him look older. Did he like that? He actually couldn't understand why he got the 'don't fuck with the hair' lecture; after all, a few swipes of the buzz razor and it would be exactly what they wanted. But it would be fun to see his mates' reaction to it, especially when he took up the guitar and did those videos he was planning.

Outside the hotel, he hailed a cab. Then another. And yet another before one finally stopped. Such a nice country, America, he scowled. "Airport," he called to the cabbie loading his luggage in the boot and crawled into the back just as the hotel doorman poked his head inside, almost up Russell's arse.

"Sir, would you mind traveling with another fare? You're both going to the airport and she's terribly late."

No way he could see past the bloke to check out the woman, so he shrugged. "No worries, let the lady in, mate."

Maybe that's the trick, get the doorman to hail the cab for ya? Or maybe the lady was someone important; after all, you never know in sunny L.A. Sunny his arse, it was raining and cold as bloody hell, something like forty degrees. He'd been away from home way too long. Needed some serious heat.

She swept in, umbrella splattering water on his slacks and several shopping begs in her hands.

"G'day," he said congenially, but this woman wasn't in the mood for conversation.

After a grunt to Russ, she leaned forward and spat not only her destination, but the route the cabbie should take.

Ah well, he was still fighting a headache and too tired to care about a convo with some arrogant L.A. sheila anyway.

The storm intensified, pounding an even thud on the roof and he slouched down, leaned his head back and closed his eyes, ignoring her huffs and groans. The cab had been at a standstill for several moments, unable to get onto the freeway, traffic backed up for only God knew how far. Russ wasn't concerned; his flight boarding was a good five hours away.

When her soaked umbrella slid and leaned against his leg, his eyes popped open. He turned. She was looking away, out her window. She had a stupid plastic pink floppy hat on her head that was dripping onto her soft argyle sweater covered shoulders and he began to wonder if she was, in fact a guest at the hotel. Eyeing the shopping bags, he thought about her destination. Since when were Sak's Fifth Avenue bags appropriate luggage? Interesting, very interesting.

"So, where ya headin'?" he ventured to ask.

She turned to him and dragged the silly plastic hat from her hair, blinked.

So did Russ. Bloody hell, she was gorgeous! Her hair was dark and short, full with soft curls, and her eyes were extraordinary. Bluer than the sky and swimming with tears. He sat straighter.

"You okay?"

"No! No I'm not! I need to get to the airport!"

He glanced ahead at the crawling traffic. "Sooner or later, love. Are ya meeting someone?" Again he gazed at the bags.

"No," was all she said and turned away.

"All righty then." He resumed his slouch and closed his eyes. "Was nice chattin' with ya." Eventually they did reach the airport. The woman paid her half of the fare and charged out before he could even offer to take care of it. Russ shook his head and waited for the cabbie to open the boot, tugged out his own luggage and headed for the international gates.

w

One thing about traveling so much, he could always locate the airport bars. Russ managed to get his baggage checked in and find a seat in a nice quiet pub with a beer and more than enough time to let the hair of the dog and a few Advil take care of his hangover. A grin played on his lips, remembering more and more of the wrap party. More and more of Sherrie and how she thought she was seducing him.

It started with her standing across the room watching him, then came the standard eye batting just before she joined in on various conversations he was engaged in, then . . . the touch. That touch, the one soft and overly familiar along his arm followed by the easy settling of her hand on his thigh while they sat, seemingly paying no attention to each other at all. She had nice moves and he responded well to them.

What she didn't get was the way he was inviting those advances. Not like Russ did any eye batting or touching during the party, but he did make damn bloody sure he was close enough for the ritual seduction dance. Clear memories of getting into his room were not readily available to his pickled brain just yet, but he definitely recalled that there was groping and kissing, loud sucking of lips, and more than a few groans and squeals. And that, before getting inside the door.

"Ya still got it, mate," he mumbled to himself through deep chuckles and waved to the barmaid for another beer. As the pretty girl headed off for his order, in swept Little Miss Rude, umbrella, shopping bags, tears and all. Damn, but he tried to ignore her.

She plopped onto a bar stool and dropped everything into a heap, blocking the walkway in the process. Not like there was much activity in the place. It was eight in the morning and Russ was the only other customer.

He grunted to his feet, tugged his carryon and walked to the bar. There he organized her things neatly between the stool she was sitting on and the one on which he planned to perch.

She turned a scowl then barked her order. "Scotch, straight."

That, of course made him laugh.

"Something funny?" she growled without turning to him.

"Yeah," was all he said and dropped a few bucks on the bar for both his beer and her Scotch.

She silently sipped . . . and occasionally sniffled . . . until Russ could take no more.

"Look, love. If we're gonna keep running into each other, we may as well -- "

"I didn't invite you over here." Another sniffle.

"Yeah, yeah ya did, believe it or not. Why don't ya tell me what's got ya so upset? Maybe I can help?"

She finally turned those extraordinary eyes to him; stopping his heart for a second and making him swallow hard. "Buddy, you can leave me alone."

The words were bloody vicious, offered like an attack, but her face said something else altogether. Russ stared at her, those beautiful eyes, the way they were puffy and wet, her pouting soft lips, the way her hands shook. She had a vulnerability about her that made him feel like he should do something.

"I said, go." And she turned away.

He thought a moment then stood and gathered his carryon and beer to head for the quiet table, deciding that this sheila just might have more problems than he cared to deal with at the moment.

Then the touch . . . that touch. A soft, small hand on his arm and he looked up.

"Sorry," she whispered.

He settled back onto the stool and sat quietly. Not a word was spoken as he finished his second beer and asked for coffee. "So," he finally said. "What happened to the silly hat?"

She blinked, turned and suddenly smiled. "Oh, I lost it somewhere. Or maybe it's in one of the bags."

"Where ya heading?"

"No fucking clue."

With that his brow curled and he turned his entire body to face her. "I'm Russ, and I think you and me, we're gonna have us a bit of a conversation. What do you mean, no clue? Ya bought a ticket, right?"

"What are you, a cop?"

Laughter bubbled until he shouted a guffaw. "Fuck no. What's your name, love?"

"Caitlin."

"Well, pretty Caitlin. Care to explain?"

She turned to him, their knees touching and her face leaning close. "It's very, very complicated. See, I'm out for a little justice."

Another round of chuckles. It was fucking uncanny! Had this girl read his script? "Justice? How so?"

"My boyfriend of five years just fucking walked out on me! Left without a word, except for that damn note."

His head tilted. "What did the note say?"

"Oh some typical male bullshit about feeling trapped and needing space. Not like I memorized it or anything." Her grin was radiant. "I lit the thing on fire, dropped it into the trash can and peed on it."

"Ya did? Didn't get burned, I hope," he laughed.

"No, no. I'm good at it. It's the third time since college I've done that. Kind of makes me feel, I don't know, satisfied I guess."

"And are you? Satisfied?"

"This time it didn't work so well. So I'm planning a little visit that might --"

"Whoa, what are ya plannin', Caitlin? And is it legal?"

"Thought you said you're not a cop."

"Not a cop, but one of those males ya mentioned earlier."

"No, you're not. You're nothing like those men."

Russ blinked. Oh hell yeah he was, not all that proud of it either. He'd left more than one sleeping girlfriend in a bed and quite a few 'typical male bullshit' type escape notes over the years. Watching Caitlin, he decided that this was worth a little further research.

"So, what's your plan?" He nonchalantly sipped coffee, noticing that his headache was almost completely gone.

"There are several options in my plan. See, I know who the new girlfriend is and happen to know she's flying to London this afternoon. But the flight has been delayed, so I have time to hone every possible case scenario before I have to deal with it."

"You're gonna face off with the girlfriend?" His mouth dropped.

"Sure, why not? We do have something in common. His pee wee dick for one thing."

Russ winced. Man, this girl was tough. Then he laughed as she held her fingers to about the length of a goldfish.

"Like one of those hybrid bananas, you know?"

"No, love. I don't," he grinned, hoping she got the point that his dick was much, much larger than a hybrid banana. "So, if this bloke was so . . . inadequate . . . what do ya care that he's gone?"

She shrugged and nursed her Scotch.

"How do ya know she's goin' to London today?"

"I'm the fucking travel agent who booked her flight! That's how."

"Ouch!"

"No shit."

He rubbed his eyes, feeling bad for the new girlfriend, the ex-boyfriend and the attendants at the London gate. "Tell me 'bout these . . . options."

Caitlin fell silent again, ordered a second Scotch and watched her own trembling hands as they cupped the glass. Finally she sighed, spoke quietly. "Maybe it's all foolishness, Russ. But everyone gets closure their own way. Everyone deserves closure. I'm sick of peeing on break-up notes."

His big palm soothed her back. "I understand. Trust me love, I really do."

w

Glaring up at the monitor, Russ was frustrated. Caitlin huffed her own irritation as they read the various arrivals and departures. The video charts were a mess, flights changing gates, changing departures times, late arrivals and cancellations everywhere.

"The London flight is delayed again!"

"Yeah, and I won't see Sydney till next fuckin' week at this rate." He looked down at her. "Lunch?"

Together they gathered her bags and headed for a restaurant. They sat at a table, at first across from each other then Caitlin slid to the seat next to him. Russ pulled one of the bags onto his lap and glared inside; lifting a little yellow rubber duck, he twisted his mouth.

"Caitlin, what the fuck?"

"Oh, that bag," she set down the menu and leaned over to reach into it. "That's the 'he's left me and I'm pregnant' bag. See?" She lifted a receiving blanket, then a package of nipples.

"Are ya pregnant?"

"Hell no, but it should shake her up, don't you think?"

He gave a dubious nod and gathered another bag. "What's in this one?"

"Wedding dress. I'll tell her he cut out a week before the wedding and that I don't need it anymore, so she can have it."

He groaned. "Were ya engaged?"

"Nope."

"Ya bought a fuckin' wedding dress?"

"Second hand. Cheap. But the impact will be there."

Russ shook his head. He set the bags aside and lifted another, much heavier one. "This bag?"

"Travel and vacation information. Places we were supposed to go together. Romantic places. Oh look," she shuffled though the volumes of brochures, "Bali!"

"Yeah, Bali. When were ya supposed to go to Bali with Mister Little Dick?"

"Next September."

"Ah. And the last bag?" He reached his hand inside.

"That's his dirty underwear."

Russ dropped the bag and ran the napkin over his hands while Caitlin giggled. "You don't think I was about to wash that and mail it to him, do you?"

"Fuck no. Caitlin," he grinned into her face. "You are one sick sheila. I kinda like that. Just don't ever wanna be your enemy, that's all."

"Good idea, Aussie."

Three hours later they stood again at the monitors. Russell's eyes popped, his flight was completely cancelled and he'd need to reschedule for the next day.

Caitlin sighed. "Let me make a few calls for you. I might be able to reroute you out of Honolulu."

The last thing he wanted was to make the trek home any longer than it had to be. "S'okay. I'll just fly out tomorrow. What's up with the London flight?" His eyes scanned the ever changing numbers.

"One hour."

"So, maybe we oughta get to the gate?"

"No, you don't need to come with me. Go get a hotel room for the night, and have a nice life, Russ." She gathered her bags and walked off.

Catching her at a trot, he reached for her arm. The touch . . . that touch. She turned and he grinned.

"Ya don't think I'm gonna miss this, do ya?" But what he was thinking was, 'I got another night and I'd like to be spending it with this crazy girl'.

Caitlin shrugged and they headed for the London gate. They sat in the empty bank of seats and watched travelers arrive. Russ watched Caitlin closely, knew the moment the new girlfriend stepped unto the waiting area, knew when she stood to queue up with the others, the second she handed her ticket over and disappeared through the door. Caitlin was still. Trembling. Christ, he felt bad for her.

"So, she never showed?" he pretended.

"No, she showed."

He put his arm over her and tugged her close, planting a sweet kiss on her soft curls. "It's all right, darlin'."

No words were exchanged, no plans made. Caitlin simply dropped her purchases and the ex's dirty underwear into a trash bin and walked with Russ out of the airport. Got into the cab beside him and stood next to him as he registered into the Airport Marriott.

His mind was running amuck. What the hell did he have in common with Caitlin? She had a quality of duplicity and a wicked thought process that almost scared him. But she had a ton of goodness in there too, although he had to admit, until the final moment he wasn't sure if she'd go through with her plan or not. Poor little thing was hurt. Trying to feel better about being left. Besides, what did it matter if they had nothing in common? They had one night to enjoy the differences.

Inside the door she finally looked into his eyes. "Is this okay? Me, here?"

Russ chuckled. "What do you think?" He stepped closer and embraced her, holding her small form, finally no longer trembling, tight to him. "But, one thing I need a guarantee about, Caitlin."

"What?"

"You're not gonna someday be telling someone I got a dick the size of a hybrid banana, are ya?"

"Do you?"

He grinned and bobbed his brows, delighted by the bubbling giggle that rose from her and grew wilder as she ran a soft hand along his fly.

"Oh my!" She smiled then slowly, painfully that smile dissolved. "Um." She moved from his arms and stepped back one step, then another.

"What?" Russ could feel her energy ebbing away, her interest and her attention drifting from him. He attempted to tease her back. "Too big?"

"Um, no. Too...um, too soon." She started to pace and he sat on a chair, wondering what would come next from a girl who never ceased to amaze him.

"Russ," she talked, her hands flailing, her little feet stomping. He knew he shouldn't be doing it, but he smiled. She was a real cute thing, smaller, more compact and physically efficient than he'd realized earlier. Her hips were perfectly rounded and proportioned with the rest of her body, her breasts were heaving beneath the sweater. And her amazing eyes, feral with the thoughts she was attempting to verbalize. "See," she started again. "Um. Russ, I know you must think I'm crazy. I was totally out of control today, rude as hell. Absolutely wicked and I swear, I'm not always that way...it's just that...well..." she thumped onto the other chair. "I'm so hurt. I might seem like a real harpy to you, but I did love Mike."

She took a breath and he nodded patiently.

Tears glittered in her eyes. "I'm so tired of trying so hard to make relationships work, so tired of getting dumped. Tired of...not being good enough. Just so...fucking tired of it all."

"You're good enough, maybe Mike wasn't. Darlin', maybe you're not with the right kinda blokes. I mean, no one shouldn't have to work hard at a relationship. It should," he shrugged. "I dunno, flow."

"You ever been in love Russ?"

A sharp ache stabbed his chest. "Yeah, I have."

Caitlin was watching his face, examining his expression, then seemed to finally accept. "So you know how this feels, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. Come here, sweetheart," he reached out a hand and she settled onto his lap, tucking her head under his chin with a sigh.

"You're so different, you know that?"

"It's the accent, love," he teased.

She sat up and smiled, then ran a hand over his short bristly hair. "That and this haircut."

"Ah well, I usually have a lot more hair. They cut it this way for a film I just did. I played a 1950's cop."

Those blue eyes were as big as saucers and he chuckled.

"You're an actor?"

A nod.

"Jesus, I didn't know I was terrorizing a movie star all day!"

"Big fuckin' difference between an actor and a movie star, Caitlin. I'm just an actor."

"Are you good?"

The smile was humble but he couldn't stop it. "Yeah."

"Huh," she said and cuddled back against him. "Russ, you know I really want to be with you tonight."

The heart thump almost shot the breath from his chest. "I wanna be with you too, Caitlin. But I won't push ya. Your choice, sweetheart."

They sat for a long time, just holding hands, warm and tight against each other. Russ had awakened at four that morning, as per his inner clock. He'd gotten a few more hours sleep after his little pre-dawn romp with Sherrie. He'd been sitting in the airport for ten hours and now another two with Caitlin. And he wondered. Why didn't he mind?

His thumb ran circles in her palm and he thrilled to the sound of her sighs. Just when he was sure that's where they'd be sleeping, sitting and wrapped up together on the chair, she spoke.

"Can we make love now?"

One crazy sheila, that's for sure.

w

It was a time in his life when he wanted easy. Simple. Pockets of comfort that simulated love, because Lord knew, it was bloody hard to find the real thing. In turn, Caitlin was also seeking comfort and for one night, they could easily fulfill those needs. Do it within reasonable parameters and enjoy whatever was offered.

But she also represented something he hadn't experienced in a while. First off, he didn't think he would ever forget her name, or that silly plastic hat. He'd never think of her without chuckling, and would always wonder what could push such a lovely girl into so many bad relationships. But what did any of that matter? He was walking her to the bed. His mind had to take a back seat to what his body was about to do...or did it? Caitlin was a surprising kinda girl and he wandered how she'd surprise him between the sheets.

His first head scratcher came when she wanted the lights turned off.

"Why, love? I wanna see ya, put visual memories to the tactile ones."

But she begged and he conceded. What harm if it made her more comfortable? The second shocker came when she periodically stopped everything to turn on the bedside lamp and talk, sitting cross legged under sheets pulled to her chin and watching his answers. Answers about Australia, about his childhood. Descriptions of the film he'd just done.

"Do you role play in bed?"

"Do I what?" He chuckled, ran a palm over his nearly bald head. "I usually play the bloke in bed."

"No, I mean do you become the character you're acting at the time?"

Russ ran the hand down his stubbly beard. "Ah, no. Would ya like me to?"

"Oh, hell no! I don't want to be doing this with a cop who cuts his hair like my dad!"

"All righty then. Any more questions?" He wanted to get on with things, his hands had made it as far as her breasts, but his mouth hadn't even neared a nipple.

She switched off the lamp and lay back then switched it back on before he could even decide on a maneuver that might hold her attention.

"What?" he groaned, pulling the sheet over his exposed straining cock.

"Russ, what happens after we do this?"

Ah, a question that deserved exploration. "Well Caitlin. What would ya like to happen after we do this?"

"Oh, see. Now I've made you mad." Sad eyes dominated her lovely face and he laughed aloud.

"No, ya haven't. Really, love. I'd like to know what you'd like to happen after we do this, 'cause I have a few ideas of my own."

"Tell me your ideas first."

His first and most prominent thought was that he was never getting laid that night, but the second thought was far more appropriate at the moment. He sighed and took her hand in his. "Darlin', it'd be really nice if we kept in touch. Talked every now and again, ya know. Become friends. I got so few friends here in L.A."

"Are you saying you want to be occasional fuck buddies?"

"What?" Irritation was creeping into his voice against all his monumental efforts. "No. I was thinking...friends. With benefits if it worked out." Then he thought a moment while she chewed on her lip. "But I guess you're right. That would make us fuck buddies, wouldn't it? Is that a bad thing?"

"No, no." She lay back on the pillow. "I mean, it's not like we could actually have a real relationship, right? You so far away."

Russ thumped back onto his own pillow. "Well, I do get up here to the States often. Got several commitments ahead. And Oz is just a plane ride away, you can come see me too, ya know."

"Now that takes it a little further." She rolled to face him, propping her head in hand. Her brow knotted.

He mimicked her position. "It does? How?"

"Well, um. I think that goes beyond the convenience of just being fuck buddies."

"Ya know, I hate that word."

"Fuck? Or buddies?"

"Okay, those two words together. I don't wanna be fuck buddies. I think it's a bit demeaning to both of us, don't you?"

She nodded.

"So, if we make sure we're more than that..." He trailed off, unsure of what more he actually wanted. Leave it to Caitlin to plow right in.

"How much more? I couldn't be your girlfriend. You're going to be a movie star and I hate movie stars."

"Ah, well I can make sure I never get an Oscar. Would that help?" His fingers slowly tugged at the sheet, lowering it to expose a perfect pink nipple. Caitlin never noticed.

"Nah, that wouldn't be fair to you. I could make an exception in your case. But that might preclude me ever coming to Australia to see you."

His eyes were glued to the perky breast. "Why's that, love?"

"Well, Russ, think about it. If you're going to be so successful, I'll have to really put my nose to the grindstone. Take serious care of my business and make sure it's the best in L.A. Keep things even, you know. I'd hate to be that poor girl you occasionally see in California. My business would have to grow."

His finger brushed the solid pearl of the nipple and a smile spread across his face as she gasped softly, still not turning off the lamp and allowing him to play. "You own the travel agency?"

"Uh-huh."

His eyes met hers. "Good onya. I didn't know that. But," his palm captured the warm soft flesh and massaged until Caitlin lay back on the pillow. "If ya own the place, you must get the best deals to Oz. Or," he brushed a tender kiss on her lips. "We can meet in Bali if ya like. My shout." And his tongue lapped at the nipple he'd been starving for all night.

"Russ," her sighs were captivating. "I can't think when you do that."

"So stop thinking," he sucked tender pulls and moved his hand to the other breast.

"But..."

His head popped up. "Caitlin, shut the fuck up." And he gave her a playful grin as he pushed the sheets to her knees and sucked with relish at her flesh, sliding his tongue under a breast and progressing to her belly. Finally, he had her full attention.

Then, as he nestled comfortably between her thighs, his fingers moving toward heaven and his face close enough to make his mouth water, there came is next surprise.

"What the fuck?" His fingertip toyed with the tiny gold hoop ring pinned to the lip of her sex.

"I can explain that."

"No, no. Let me leave this to my own imagination," he chuckled then smoothed his tongue over the warm metal. The sensation of hard forged gold against the incredible softness of her pussy was maddening. Holy fuck, he wondered how it was gonna feel fucking her. He wanted to watch the ring slide along his cock, run his soapy hands there to clean her afterwards then start all over again. He wanted to buy her more pussy jewelry just to know she was wearing it, even if he was half a planet away. And as the gold touched his cheek, he knew he'd never again taste another woman without remembering Caitlin.

With precision, his lips clasped over her clit and he began a slow even rhythm, fingers slid deep and massaged the wet, hot inner flesh of her path. She was moving smoothly in waves, like they were doing it on a beach. Everything about Caitlin was fluid, so unlike the day long experience he'd had of her. Duplicity was a grave understatement. This sheila became virtually anything he desired and Russ knew better than to think he was bringing it all out in her.

It wasn't the first time he'd been with a woman able to reach multiple orgasms, but it was the first time he had positive proof of it. It was in her gushing waves of creamy come, in the repeated rise and fall of the flushed pinkness on her neck and cheeks, in her soft cries that seemed to expand to fill the whole room.

What man would leave a woman like this? But as he soothed her into a full state of serenity, wanting her entirely aware of his entry, Russ also wondered what man could handle it all. She was like watching a kaleidoscope. Always changing, vacillating from sweet victim to sweet, creative vengeance to the mother of all lovers. Her mind was a mosaic of unfocused focus but her body was a sensuous playground. His imagination took another leap. What had the man who installed the ring experienced? Russ thought his cock would split with how much he wanted in.

But Caitlin wanted something too. Her tiny form slithered lower between his knees as he rose to aim and drive. Oh he drove, but into her waiting mouth. He reached desperately for support, one hand deep in her curls and his hips demanding depth.

Caitlin didn't suck like other women either. Her mouth and tongue worked in a different kind of harmony, the kind that held him at bay and kept him crazy at the same time. One slender hand rolled his aching balls as the other slid the tips of two fingers deep into his ass. Fuck! She was driving him mad but he held on to the headboard for all he was worth.
How the bloody hell was she doing it? He was ready to blow, but just at the edge of control. Holding on.

Then she moved back, raised her arms to pull him close. "Now, please," she gasped, as though she was the one hovering over the fire for what seemed like an eternity.

He rose to his knees, wiped sweat from his face and took cock in hand, ran it across the ring with a hiss, then slid slowly, inching his way into her depths. It took far longer than he'd expected, but oh, so worth every moment if it. From sharing a cab with her to sharing an orgasm, Russ was positive, fuck buddy or not, Caitlin was a perfect match for him between the sheets.

w

And it hadn't ended there. Between her sporadic interruptions to discuss things and his constant craving to have his hands and mouth on her, his cock in her, the night moved into day and the only thing to stop them was the need to catch his plane. Knowing his luggage was already heading home without him, Russ waited as long as he could before saying goodbye.

They'd made plans for Bali, and that proved as good as the L.A. hotel room, and as sleepless. She came twice to visit him in Australia and for the following few years, he never went to the States without taking time for Caitlin.

The words 'fuck buddy' were strategically changed to 'lust buddy' and all went well until they both, one day out of the blue, seemed to change. Mature. Grow up.

The calls slowed and the sex came to a standstill. But when they were together, they still laughed and explored ideas and Caitlin still surprised him. Her business grew and thrived and the day he won the Oscar, hers was the first telegram he opened.

"Good thing you're the exception, Aussie." She didn't even sign it. By that point, they hadn't talked for months. It seemed right to Russ, but he saved the telegram.

Three months later he had one last contact from the crazy sheila who could make his toes curl at just the thought of touching her. The letter arrived at the farm when he was alone, so he sat on the porch at sunset and tore opened the envelope, shamelessly sniffing it in hopes of catching a whiff of Caitlin.

Dear Russ,

I once knew this guy with a crew cut who was an actor and became a movie star. He was something special, different from any man I'd ever known and he taught me so much. So very much. And it's because of him that I'm now ready to be all the things he thought I could be.

Before you get this letter, I will be married. Married! Can you believe that? I met the most amazing man and he loves me for all the nutty things I am. Sorry I didn't invite you, but I knew you wouldn't be in the States and besides, how the hell would I explain to my grandmother why Russell Crowe, the Gladiator, was at my wedding?

So, I suppose I'm breaking up with you. This is an all new thing for me, but having much more experience at the receiving end of this kind of rejection, I'm going to give you clear, concise instruction on how to handle this.

Gather together one medium sized metal trash can and your Bic lighter (or you could use that engraved gold one all those movie stars have). Carefully light this letter until the flames crawl up one side then drop it into the can. Open your fly and aim. Put the fire out, Russ. Trust me, you'll feel much better.

All joking aside, there is one thing I did want you to know. After our last time together, I had the ring removed. That ring that used to represent the stupidest thing I ever did in my whole life. But in your wonderful hands, it had come to mean much more. It meant you, and as much as I do love you, I thought it was time to put it away.

Thank you for everything.

Love always,
Caitlin

Russ shook the envelope, ridiculously hoping the ring would fall out into his hand, but of course, it didn't. As twilight hovered over his farm he searched for a metal trash bin. He flicked his dollar-fifty Bic lighter and watched the letter burn. Dropped it and pissed. Smoke hissed and billowed from the bin and he chuckled. What the fuck, he did feel better. Time for him to put it all away too. Leave it to crazy Caitlin to lead the way.