London, England. September 2003.

Height difference can make a relationship awkward.

This is true with both physical and achievement heights, Doug Ramsay reflected. As happened much too often when he should be concentrating on something else, profound insights were intruding upon his thoughts.

Six foot two inch Cat Osterman was pressing her naked self hard against him, her limbs coiled about his bare torso as he thrust his manhood into her inner folds. The gangly brunette was only a few inches taller than Doug but this still made any coupling between them uncomfortable. They could not kiss lips to lips without her leaning over, him rising on tiptoes to meet her, or both of them lying down as they were now. Neither of them minded the height difference much, they had never really discussed it, but still it was there. They got around it as best they could and enjoyed being together. The other distance between them kept them apart.

They had met eighteen months ago in Austin on the University of Texas campus. Doug was visiting his alma mater to watch a softball game. Cat was on the mound, achieving another of her many strikeout records as a pitcher. Doug was a sheriff's deputy back then and he used his badge to get into the players' recreation area of the stadium after the game and meet Cat.

A few sparks of conversation followed by an invitation to dinner made them an item. Doug had been startled that things had gone so well at such speed. He often felt like he and Cat were such different people that they could never find common ground. She loved sports and he would only watch them if a beautiful and skilled athlete like Cat was playing. Being with her was like an impossible dream. Perhaps that was why Doug found it difficult to concentrate on the present when he coupled with Cat and why he did not honestly know where they were headed. Their relationship had continued to blossom rapidly after the first meeting, as each was a free and open person who enjoyed the other's company and wanted to keep things going. Then Cat got the call.

It came from a former coach who was very proud of her. Cat's pitching skills had paid off in the best way, he said. She was going to test for the Olympics and chances were she would get in with the greatest of ease.

Doug praised Cat as soon as he heard this but also scaled back their dating. She did not need the distraction, he told her. Forget about me and everything we have. This is your chance. Go for it. You have to get the success you deserve and turn it into the coaching career that you want. You're a legend. I'm just a common man, and probably not the man for you.

Soon they were mere friends with benefits. Doug remained one of Cat's contacts and a good source of understanding but romance was no longer on their minds.

What we have is great on its own, Doug thought in the present, leaning up and crushing Cat's face against his. Their tongues met from open mouths, entwining as they exchanged caresses. Her dexterous hands circled his shoulders and massaged his back. They then came around and toyed with the thin dark hair that covered his strong chest and stomach muscles. Cat lightly clawed those muscles with her nails, further stoking his arousal. Doug's own fingers were on her breasts, squeezing and pinching the tan aureoles. Cat's legs pulled his firm manhood deeper into her shaven loins and she yowled as she clenched her knees around his rear.

Cat's still not an Olympian yet, Doug told himself. It will be another six months or so before training for the Games begins. However, she's already taken off a year from college to achieve this dream. It'll be worth it, but it will still push her back. My own life has changed too.

When Cat and I broke up, Doug recalled, I was already feeling the stress of law enforcement. I couldn't do the job forever and I had already achieved all I wanted out of it, so I decided to retire. I published my first bestselling thriller novel and then quit the force to apprentice as an entertainment mogul with Clifford Antone. Aided by my membership in a secret society known as the Friendship, I amassed some wealth and moved to London. There I opened my own dance club and bar called "Inside Out". Not bad for a young man of twenty-five years. Cat and I are in the penthouse of the swinger's haven that occupies the apartments above my club now, enjoying ourselves on the last night before she has to leave me again. I never want this to end but that's the way things have to be.

He moved his hands off her tits and into her long dark hair, stroking and yanking on the strands. Cat sighed and licked his face and he kissed her neck in reply. Their arms went around each other's torsos and they held one another tight as they continued to exchange coital thrusts.

They had to part, Doug knew. They had different lives. Cat was more famous than he was even with his new achievements and that could only grow. She also had other lovers besides him, male and female. None of her relationships was that serious at the moment but someday things could change. He did not want to intrude on that. Denying someone happiness was a thing Doug never wanted to do.

Thus he contented himself with being Cat's fan, watching her as she rose away from him and reached for new peaks. What honor he could give her he did. Cat accepted it all. She recognized herself in a character in his novel and laughed, happy that he cared. They remained good friends even as they drifted apart emotionally.

"I will always have you on my mind," Doug promised her. Cat nodded and said the feeling was mutual, though she agreed their steady relationship should be no more.

All they had left was calls and visits, exchanges of advice and happiness for the goals each had achieved. Moments of loving such as the present were growing less frequent and neither could guess when the next chance might come. Let us put it behind us, Doug thought, fondling her hips and shoving himself into her. We'll let what we have be enough and make up for what we don't.

Cat agreed, her brown eyes blinking at his blue ones as she joined with him. Her hands roamed all over his body, memorizing by feel his stocky muscles and his thick dark blond hair. Cat often told Doug he physically reminded her of the actor Seann William Scott. It amused her that he did not always share the lack of inhibitions usually exhibited by that actor's characters. Doug was as handsome as she was striking and had a wonderful sense of creative humor. It was because of this that Cat had so quickly accepted him as a lover and friend.

He admires me, she thought, in a strange way that I have trouble appreciating sometimes. I see him as just marvelous casual sex, I always have. He wants more, but I can't think about that now. I have a life to lead. I'm not part of his world and he can't share mine. We have to be happy with what we have. My athletic career is growing at an exponential rate. Tomorrow I have to leap away from Doug and go back to embracing it. I have to get my current semester of college over with and then head for the Olympics. Whatever's ahead, he'll cheer me on but our time together will be sporadic at best. We're destined to be separated, even though right now we're so close. Keeping this in mind, she fervently caressed her lover's back.

They clutched each other tight, forgetting the future and reveling in the moment. He speared his cock into her cunt, warm moisture flowing from her and lubricating his condom-coated organ. Cat took that rod inside, bouncing strikes and fouls off it with her fingers and inner muscles. She tossed her head and cried out as Doug's hands ran her body's bases, imprinting her memory onto his brain with every sound.

"How's that new Longhorn catcher working out?" Doug asked Cat, slowing between kisses. She smiled, recognizing one of his distraction techniques to stave off a premature climax. "Are you getting along well?"

"Yeah!" Cat replied in a breathless murmur. "Megan and I are best friends. She's a great lover too." Cat grinned and licked his ear.

"Awesome. Think she'll go to the Olympics with you?"

"I don't know. She's good, but the coaches aren't noticing her like they are me. I'll miss her, but it's okay. There will be plenty of other potential friends."

"Yeah," Doug agreed, pecking her on the cheek. "I'll introduce you to some more if the games don't give all you can handle."

Cat smirked. "Like Keira Knightley?" The actress, a frequent visitor to Doug's new business, had joined in their coupling twice in the past few days.

"Other beautiful women as well," Doug promised. Keira was not the only famous guest at his club. There were many, and some of the beautiful women were rapidly becoming Doug's lovers and friends. He was trying hard to relax and accept the experience. "I'll get you men also, if you want them. I'll do whatever you desire, Cat, just to keep myself on your mind."

It was the promise of a passionate moment, they both knew, heartfelt but possibly not sincere. Cat shrugged it off and kissed Doug, telling him that such words were not necessary with her deep silent breaths into his throat. You will be with me whatever happens, she told him, just as long as thoughts of me are in you. He sensed her promise and smiled, again enfolding her in his arms as he struck the head of his cock against her clit.

They traded movements and caresses a while longer, sighing and kissing each other's faces and lips. Words were behind them now, as the pleasure had become too overpowering within both Doug and Cat. He buffed her lips and neck, then leaned down and sucked her breasts. She scratched his torso like a favored nail-sharpening device in climax, living up to her name with her gestures and purrs. He exploded into her seconds later, moving his head back up to lick her lips as he shot his load. They broke apart, grinning at each other. She slapped him once, hard across the face, and then tumbled away from him as he laughed and rolled his eyes.

The lovers took a moment to recover, exchanging regular looks and smiles as they both rested and let out heavy breaths. They lay among the white sheets of the penthouse bed, close to sleep but not quite there. Soon each person's hands were traveling back towards the other. Woman grinned at man, and man grinned in reply. They rolled together again and embraced. Doug idly played with Cat's cunt and nipples while she stroked his balls. They shared a kiss and then snuggled together, neither quite yet ready for more. Cat offered Doug her palm and he slipped his hand into hers, giving a content expression that she returned. They beamed into each other's eyes, and then moved together as they both felt their arousal flare once again.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Who's there?" Doug called out, releasing Cat and rolling away from her. He looked at the bedroom door. It has to be someone safe, Doug thought. No one gets into the upper floors of my club without a pass. It's late at night, though. I hope this isn't an emergency.

"It's Clarke!" came the reply.

Doug gave Cat a frown, recognizing the voice of his security chief. His athletic lover shrugged and he nodded. They both sat up on the bed and steeled their minds. Cat saw Doug's law enforcement training in the way he readied himself for the unknown situation and she responded to it with her own preparations. "Come in!" she shouted at the door.

The portal opened at the touch of Clarke's master key. The security chief then walked inside. He was a large Bushman over six feet tall with powerful rippling muscles. His head was bald with a wise warrior's face and his voice unaccented. Cat once again reflected on how much Clarke reminded her of the former wrestler turned actor Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson. He was as big as the Rock, though with darker skin and less hair. Clarke wore a tan jacket, a black shirt and urban camouflage pants. He grinned when he saw Doug and Cat, looking both their bodies up and down.

Cat smiled at his attention. She had caught Clarke eyeing her several times during the past week. They had talked a little and become friends. Clarke was a world traveler and had seen a lot in the military. He didn't mind sharing his experiences with an interested person. Cat hung on every word, intrigued. Talk was all she had done with Clarke thus far, though. She was attracted to the Bushman but catching up with Doug had kept her too busy to pursue other men as of yet.

Maybe next time I'm in London I will try and get with Clarke, Cat thought. That is, if by then Doug's gotten over me enough to not mind me having sex with his best friend. I don't want to hurt him. I'll just keep hoping enough other famous women enter Doug's life and distract him from me between my next visit and now.

"Is something the matter, Clarke?" Doug asked, grimacing in discomfort.

Clarke chuckled. "I've never seen you naked before, Deputy Doug."

Doug raised his eyebrows. He and Cat were into free love, he reminded himself. She was more at ease with it than he was but he was trying to improve. Clarke was their buddy. Thus, neither he nor Cat had bothered to cover up in front of Clarke. Was that a mistake? "And?"

"You look good."

Hearing Cat giggle, Doug blinked and stared at Clarke. "Are you coming on to me?"

Clarke shrugged and smirked. "Do you want me to? I wouldn't mind doing that, you know. I go both ways, like most of my team."

He was referring to the squad of former Special Forces soldiers who worked at Inside Out in various capacities. They had once been employed by the United Nations as an elite counterterrorist unit under Clarke's command. We were like the heroes of that old cartoon "G.I. Joe", Clarke told those who asked. An unorthodox and very effective freedom fighting force. We're not in the military anymore but we still have our training and camaraderie. We all sleep together too, more or less.

The Bushman's current employer looked away from him and coughed. "Well, Clarke," Doug said, "that's flattering, but I'm afraid I don't go both ways. I'm straight. I'm all about the ladies."

"Really?" Cat jumped in, laughing again. "I know you experimented once."

"Yes," Doug confirmed, "and I wasn't turned on at all. Sorry, Clarke. Men don't do anything for me, not even you. I got nothing against gay people. I fully support their rights. I have a gay brother in New York and, as you know, I adore bisexual women. I have other gay and lesbian friends too. I'm just not gay myself."

Clarke pointed his index finger at Doug and clicked his thumb, sharing Cat's smile. "That's fine, Deputy Doug. I'll be content with fantasy."

Doug gaped at him, incredulous. Cat guffawed and clapped him on the back. "Relax!" she told her lover. "Clarke's just pulling your chain!"

"I can see that," Doug replied, hiccupping. "He's lucky I don't mind."

"You gotta understand, man," Clarke said. "I'm a force of nature. I rarely discriminate in fucking or fighting. It's just who I am."

"Most of the time, I'm grateful for it," Doug said, trying to recover from the sudden shock. "You're a good friend, Clarke. You've proven yourself quite an asset to me the past three months. I just don't like you in a ... well, you know." He gestured at Cat and himself.

"I might like you that way, Clarke," Cat declared, seizing the opportunity. "When I'm here next and have time."

Doug gave her a surprised look followed by a nod of acceptance. Clarke was beaming at Cat, he noted. No problem, he said to himself. You two have fun together. Thanks, Cat, for showing me just how far apart we've grown.

"I'd like that," Clarke said to Cat. He then looked at Doug. "What's the matter, man? You've been having tons of women lately. Keira and her celebrity friends, for one. They should have bled all jealousy out of you by now. Tess and Jodi Lee from my team have both gotten with you too. I know some of the other women are also waiting their turn. It's not just because you knew Jodi Lee and several other people on my team in high school either. You've got seeds planted all over the place! Let's not forget that tall redhead and the little blonde who have come in almost every night since we opened the club. Why haven't you gotten with them yet?"

"Alicia's with Dave, Clarke."

"That idiot fop who thinks he can break into celebrity life? They won't be together much longer. If I had a nickel for every time I've heard them arguing loud enough to wake the neighbors..."

"I know. Still, I don't like to go after other men's women. As for Erika, well, I think I want to take things slow with her."

"What? Come on, man! Those two are seriously hot!"

"Yeah, Doug," Cat agreed. "They're nice people and great actresses. I've gotten to know them a bit these past few days and they both like you. They're also into each other, although I don't think Alicia's accepted that yet. She's a bit of a homophobe."

"Right," Doug answered, throwing up his hands, "and Erika's a rebel Scientologist paladin. Both of them make me crazy."

"So get over it." Cat punched him in the arm. "So what if Alicia's a bitch? She can change. So what if Erika's religion has a bad reputation? Erika's a good person despite all that. Did you forget we have one of her people's churches on campus back in Austin? I know they're not completely bad."

"I know that too. It's kinda hard to forget they are bad as well as good, though." Doug blinked at Cat, a guess coming into his thoughts. "Wait a second. Have you and Erika... ?"

"Yep," Cat confirmed, smiling. "I was with her last night while you said bye to your old girlfriend Angie. You'd better not reject Erika too long, Doug. She's very skilled." Cat smirked slyly and licked her lips, tapping her fingers on Doug's chest.

"Okay," Doug said with a wave of dismissal. "Enough crazy sex talk. I don't think I wanted to know about half this stuff. Clarke, I'm sure you didn't come in here to discuss it."

"No, man," Clarke replied, shaking his head. "It's enjoyable, but it's not why I stopped by your room. I got something else I need to share with you. Uh, is she cleared to... ?"

"Yes," Doug interrupted. "Cat's one of my Friendship initiates. She's not a high-ranking member like you or I, but she can hear whatever you want to say to me."

"Good." Clarke nodded as Cat beamed at Doug. "I think she might want to hear this too. It's a story Cat's asked me about before." He walked to a chair near the bed, took off his jacket and sat down. "By the way, Cat, your flight's been delayed. Some al-Qaeda dumb-ass threatened to blow up part of Heathrow Airport."

"Damn it!" Cat cursed, looking at Doug. He shrugged and gave her a look that said, "What can you do?" Cat nodded, then sighed and turned back to Clarke. "Is the terrorist in custody?"

"Yes, but they think he might have accomplices. All flights are grounded until Scotland Yard makes sure all their suspects are caught." Clarke shook his head. "The world just won't get out of this stupid war. I hate it so much."

"Don't we all," Doug concurred. "It's been going on since before the Middle Ages and there are no signs of stopping. It slacks off for a while and then comes back worse. I lost friends on 9-11 and I have others who are still fighting. You too, right?"

"Yep," Clarke said. "I also used to fight in the war on the front lines. That's why I'm here. You remember how we met, Deputy Doug?"

"Yes. You were in a bar on the East End nursing past sorrows. I thought Alcoholics Anonymous was taking care of that."

"It is, but there are some things I can't tell them. You've never asked me about my final mission either. Don't you want to know why I got relieved of my command?"

"No, Clarke. I figured that was your business. You're capable despite whatever happened and Keira told me it wasn't your fault. She's your longtime friend and martial arts student, so I figure she would know whether I could trust you or not. Keira vouched for you and I got to know you, and that's enough for me."

"Well, I need to tell you about my last mission anyway. I was thinking about it again tonight and I can no longer hold it inside."

"I figured as much." Doug looked at Cat. "Are you too tired to listen to him?"

"No," Cat said. "Go ahead, Clarke."

"Yeah, I'm not too tired either," Doug fibbed when Clarke looked his way. He and Cat fluffed up the bed's pillows and sat up, ready to listen. Doug grabbed the open soda can on the bedside table and took a long gulp. Clarke smiled and began his tale.

The Middle East. Fall 2002.

My name isn't really Clarke, but that's what most call me. The moniker was awarded during my training for the South African Special Forces Brigade. I excelled at every qualification course, so much so that my instructors took to calling me "Superman". I told them I hated that name. The other recruits were envious about it and I felt I was no one special. My only intention in doing so well was to prove the formerly racist South African government was wrong about people with my skin color. We can be great. The instructors accepted my words and dropped the nickname they'd given me. They started calling me "Clarke" instead. That title I decided I could accept.

You probably wouldn't be able to pronounce my real name. It means "wind in the valley" among my native African tribe. The witch doctor gave it to me at birth when he prophesied my destiny. I still laugh at the name today. As I said before, I'm nobody special. Why should I put on airs?

Even with my modesty, I achieved great things in life. At just shy of thirty years old I was a highly decorated officer in this planet's finest Special Forces unit. At least, that's what I used to be. I have a great job today too. I gotta forget about that job now, though. I need to revisit the past.

One year ago, I was the field leader of an elite counterterrorist force directed by the United Nations. My team was composed of soldiers and support troops from various countries around the world. Most of those who are still alive work in your club now, Doug. You know Yoshi Aoi, the Japanese chef with the soul of a samurai. Jodi Lee Nichols, the Aussie waitress who used to check out strange territory for me. Mike Hernandez, the Central American demolitions engineer who's become your disc jockey. Wouter Staal, my reliable Dutch coordinator. Contessa Winfield, the sweet sexy Irish-Italian doctor from Greenwich Village. Asher Stravjan, the albino Pole who cleans your building's floors.

Asher's a particularly interesting guy. He looks like an old man even though he's my age. That's because of his condition, as you're aware. Asher's got the genes of just about every persecuted people in history inside him. His father was a Roma Gypsy and his mother was a Polish Jew. He's albino, gay and extremely talkative. Correction, he used to be extremely talkative. You'll soon find out why he ain't that way so much anymore.

Like Jodi Lee, Asher served me as an infiltrator and scout. He spoke over twenty languages back in the day and could talk to anyone. He's also very insightful and a master of trickery. He can get close to you and become your best friend and you would never know he was planning to stab you in the back. Not that he would ever betray you or me, obviously.

Asher's been picked on all his life, but instead of letting that weaken him he's chosen to rise above it. He's very like me in that way. He's quite handsome, he sort of looks like the great action star Clint Eastwood when he's not disguised. His father's people trained him well in Gypsy stuff — you know, costumes, juggling and acrobatics. Asher is also a genius at disarming bombs and tense situations. What, you want me to move on? Fine.

There are some others on my team you don't know. Farouk al-Kharish, the Saudi sergeant. Baxter Page, the American photographer and computer expert. God only knows where those two are these days. Then there were those you'll never get to meet, like Chen Ming, my Chinese second-in-command. Also Tanya Brown, who was a sniper born to a couple from Kazakhstan and New Zealand. Tanya and Jodi Lee were very good friends. Oh, wait, you did know her? Shoot, Doug, I'm sorry. This story may be a downer for you.

I can continue? Good. Thanks. You got another soda? Thanks again.

I had many other comrades back then too, lots of men and women of diverse backgrounds. I called most of them lovers and all of them good friends. We were made up of all human divisions — sexual orientations, religions, nationalities, you name it. The only things we had in common were strong hearts, open minds, and intense military training. Almost every country in the United Nations sent people to the team. We had US Marines, Army Rangers, and Navy SEALs. There were also British Special Air Service, German GSG-9, French GIGN, you name it. The U.N. built us to be diverse and fight terrorism. We worked together very well. They didn't mean for us to break military protocol as much as we did, but we got good results so it was usually okay.

As of 2002, we had been in existence four years. I served my country for seven years as a Special Forces officer and ended up highly decorated, so the U.N. requested I lead their new elite unit. My government agreed and signed the transfer. I was still in the South African military, but I only answered to three men outside my team.

First and foremost was General George Hawkins of Her British Majesty's Army. He was a veteran of the joint U.S. and U.K. peacekeeping missions in the Middle East, where most of my team's operations took place. He kinda reminded me of the late actor Richard Crenna, if you want a physical description. Hawkins was an elderly esteemed soldier. I really respected him. He was a good leader and he was always on my side. I'm not sure what he's doing now.