Despite their passionate night together, Marita and Alex hadn't yet made love. They had kissed and caressed, but Alex always held back even though he wanted it more than anything else in the world. Yet somehow, after their night together, after the disastrous date, Marita began to believe that he truly did love and want her. Knowing that, she felt more patient and aware that there it was something else holding them back. She would simply have to find that out and remove the obstruction.

"For once, I'll get to do the spying," she thought to herself with more than a little excitement.

They started out the next day in the office innocent enough, although Alex was still wearing his suit from the night before. They each tried to read only their computer screens; to avoid the electric touches beneath their desks; to speak in a normal tone that didn't quiver with double entendres. But there were always secret looks and fingers that brushed on passed files.

Why, Marita wondered. Why can't he be with me?

After work, she told him she was going to meet one of her friends for dinner. Alex nodded and said he was going to catch up on more work.

Marita didn't own a car, so she simply paid a taxi to wait across the street from the Consortium's building. She didn't have to wait long. Alex emerged only minutes after she left and he wasn't alone. An entire pack of Consortium men walked outside in the damp, April chill, with Alex tailing a few steps behind. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets and he stared at the sidewalk as if he were angry at the concrete slabs. The men talked loud enough for Marita to hear over the blare of the afternoon traffic. But Alex was silent.

"Follow that group, please," Marita directed the cab driver. The driver shook his head and warned Marita that his tip better be good. She assured him it would be worth his time.

The walking speed chase ended outside a door with a red awning which had the look of velvet, although Marita knew it couldn't be. The men didn't bother to stub out their cigarettes or cigars, but simply walked inside still smoking. Spender was among the group. Like Alex, he held himself apart, only at the front of the pack. Alex looked over both his shoulders before he stepped inside the dark doorway. Harsh flashes of light emitted from the door.

"Here's a hundred," Marita said as she threw a wadded up bill through the plastic partition of the cab. Perhaps the driver was expecting better, because he didn't thank her.

Inside, Alex felt like crawling into a hole. Anything to get away from this noisy mess of old men slobbering over trashy looking women. Spender's presence made it even worse. The old man sat across the stage from Alex, looking bored, watching the performance with detached interest. It was like going to a strip-club with his father. The dancer wore a gold lame thong and nothing else. Her breasts were cartoonishly large and swung like great pendulums. Alex tried his best to concentrate on reading the coaster through his glass. He sighed loudly, but no one could hear him over the techno beat. The old men, sans Spender, tucked hundred dollar bills in the stripper's thong.

Marita was too shocked to move from the doorway at first, until an elderly gentleman politely asked her to move out of the way so he could get inside. The waitresses wore shorts riding up their asses with suspenders, but no tops. The lights flashed purple, red, and yellow. She was the only woman fully dressed in the room.

And Alex was the youngest man there. Marita spotted him at the central stage. She shoved a chair out of her way as she marched across the floor.

"So this is why he doesn't want me. Because I don't have fake tits?" she thought to herself with the kind of furor where she could actually hear herself yelling inside her head. A waitress had to jump out of Marita's war path.

"What are you doing here?" she stated with such an angry chill that it startled the normally watchful Alex. His face turned bright red, but Marita attributed that to the lights shining in their eyes.

"Sit down."

"Fuck you Alex."

His hand grabbed her elbow and dragged her down onto the padded stool next to him. The stripper chose at that moment to bend over backwards and make kissing noises at Alex. He glanced at her from of the corner of his eye, out of surprise. But he was even more surprised to feel Marita's stinging slap hit his cheek.

"Would you settle down!"

"No! Now I get it!"

"You don't get anything."

"Yes I do. I'm not good enough. Or I'm just your Madonna, but you really want to sleep with a whore. Is that it?"

"You have everything wrong," Alex said as he took a long sip from his glass. "I hate coming here. I hate these women. I hate the lights. I hate how disgusting it is to see a these women give Spender a lap dance."

The thought actually made Marita physically nauseous. She grabbed Alex's drink and took a sip. It was just water.

"Why do you come here then?" she asked with less enthusiasm than before. She couldn't bring herself to look at Alex, so she traced at a scratch in the wooden stage.

"I don't know. Sometimes I don't think you understand how the Good Old Boy system works. This is camaraderie for them. This is what they use instead of loyalty on their projects."

Marita felt the nagging sense that she had over reacted, but she still wasn't happy to find Alex in a strip club. It didn't matter if the tips were hundred dollar bills versus singles, it still felt dirty to her and she didn't like tainting her image of Alex.

"Do you believe me?" he asked. It was difficult to hear him over the thumping beat of the music. His hand reached out and covered her own on her lap.

"Alex, I love you."

He didn't respond. Marita looked up at him with a bewildered expression.

"Alex, do you love me?"

His hand squeezed tight around her fingers.

"I do."

"Then come back home with me."

"I can't."

"I don't understand. If you don't want other women and you love me, why don't you want to be with me?"

"It's not that. I…have a business trip coming up." Their heads rested together other so they could speak more clearly into each other's ears. "I'll be gone for a while."

"How long?" Marita asked, already feeling the empty dread gnawing at her stomach.

"Two months. No more. It's some intelligence work in Tunisia."

Marita didn't bother to argue with him. She had no business in spook work. She wouldn't be of any use, especially in a country like Tunisia where a woman like her was a constant offense to the locals.

"Just come home with me. You don't have to leave right away."

"What is sex going to prove to you? You already know…"

"I need it to feel like I'm with you. Because I want it. I want to be with you."

Alex didn't tell her that this was the problem. He knew that once they made love, he would never be able to deny her from himself. Once he knew what it felt like to be inside of her, he would never be able to stop. He would love her and perhaps marry her, if the Consortium allowed. There would be babies and children growing up. And that was all he needed to have everything taken away from him again.

One of the strippers climbed up the pole and hung upside down by her clenched knees. For a moment, Alex saw his mother hanging from the tree with the dead limb. No, it would never be worth it.

But he would never be entirely able to give Marita up either. Even if he swore to himself to never see her again, he knew he would eventually break that promise. If he rejected her harshly, perhaps she would come to hate him. Maybe she would marry another man. But Alex would still have to see her, only he'd be the back-door man instead of her husband. The jealousy would kill him.

None of the options sounded pleasant. He wasn't ready to leave her yet. And he didn't want anyone else to have her either. Even now, as she picked at her lip as was her nervous habit, he felt the pangs of love and jealousy over what he couldn't entirely have.

"Later Marita. Maybe when I come back."

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When Alex arrived back in the United States, the very first thing he did was call one of the technicians at the Consortium.

"Do you have the pictures?" he asked over his cell phone in a dead voice.

"Yes. We never left the post at night without being relieved. I've looked over the photographs already and sent you the most interesting ones."

"Good, slip them under my office door."

Alex retrieved them after leaving the airport almost immediately. He hadn't checked a bag.

The photos were in a manila envelope, sealed with a piece of string. He didn't yet want to look inside. His gut gave tremors of fear and guilt. Alex decided to open the file when he got to Marita's.

Marita had been practically all he could think about in Tunisia. Everywhere he missed her. He missed having someone close to talk with and having someone to hold when he was afraid at night. He missed stealing kisses from her when he leaned over her desk to explain a map or a piece of coded document.

But Alex was afraid that she hadn't missed him at all over the past two months. Their goodbye had been short and ugly; the sort of airport scene where nobody looks anyone in the eye. She had still been angry that their goodbye wasn't in the bedroom.

And so Alex approached Marita's monolith of an apartment building with some trepidation and an urge to delay their hellos. But he was a man and a soldier, he wouldn't be afraid of her or anyone.

It was too late at night to expect Marita to open the door, so Alex jimmied open the lock and used a piece of wire he kept in his leather jacket to unhook the chain from the inside. The apartment was dark except for the glowing, digital light of the coffee pot. He entered her bedroom and sat down in an overstuffed chair by the window.

Marita stirred in bed. For a sickening moment, Alex thought he saw a second figure among the sheets, but it had only been a trick of the moonlight.

"Marita," Alex whispered. She didn't wake. Alex got up and gently sat down on the edge of the bed. He shook her shoulder and called her name again. This time, shadows shifted on her eyes as she blinked. It took her a moment to recognize him in her sleepy stupor.

"Alex," was all she said as she wrapped her arms around his lean chest. Alex dragged her up into a cradle of his arms. He clutched at her and smelled her clean scent. His Marita never wore perfume. She was an uncommon, natural beauty. She kissed him on the lips. It was a chaste, searching kiss which made his insides leap.

"I'm so glad you're back."

They continued their sweet nothings. But eventually, Marita noticed the envelope. She asked what was inside. Alex sighed and handed her the documents. She unwound the string. He pulled the lamp tassel to turn on the lights. Together they looked over the glossy photos.

They were of Marita, walking in and out of her building during the early evening and at night. Some days she wore her hair in a pony tail, but most days she kept her hair down. Her face looked uniformly depressed. There was no color in her cheeks. She didn't look at passersby's or cars that nearly ran her over as she crossed the street. The pictures showed that she was blind to everything but the pavement in front of her boots.

"What are these for?" Marita asked with warranted confusion. She held the photos on the edges of the paper.

"Just checking up on you."

"You didn't trust that I'd be alone each night?"

"Marita…I wanted these pictures to show you with someone each night. And more than anything, I wanted you to be alone, waiting for me."

"Alex, you have to stop this back and forth. I need a straight answer."

He kissed her. Down he pushed her onto the bed. His pelvis ground against her body. He hardened and felt the stiff joy of sinking it against her belly. Marita let out a sigh of relief and kissed him back with equal fervor. She licked the tip of his tongue with her own. She massaged his arms and his chest with her strong fingers.

Their clothes came off in fast pieces. Their skins relished the warmth of another person to hold at night.

"I love you," Marita panted between their kisses. Alex responded the best way he could show her how he felt. He nudged her knees apart and kneeled between her legs. He entered her with tender love. Marita wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight. They rubbed heads together.

The love making was slow at first, but gained speed. When they finished, each felt a rush of pleasure shake their bodies. Alex whimpered as he orgasmed against her neck everything he wanted to tell her, but his voice was too strained for Marita to understand.

He told her he loved her and that he would always love her. He said he would protect her. Nothing bad would happen. It was his vow. It was taking a chance, but living without her in Tunisia had been the final evidence to convince him of his need. Without Marita, he was nothing. And with her, he was happy.

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Marita woke up the next morning feeling the delicious comfort that good sex brings upon waking. But the jewelry like clatter under the sheets confused her. Alex wasn't in the room. She lifted her hands out of the blankets. A pair of handcuffs tied her wrists together. The chain rattled a metallic clink.

"What is this?" she asked aloud, still hazy from sleep. Alex stepped in the room and leaned on the doorframe.

"I have a plan."

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I guess you'll just have to read the next chapter to find out Alex's plan and what that has to do with the handcuffs. The clues are all there! Reread (and hey REVIEW) and maybe you'll find them. Think how professional motivation can coincide with the personal.

Ps. So so sorry about the grammar, repetitive words, annoying phrases and structure. I work all day, so I usually write at night when I'm much less clear and very tired. I promise to clean everything up soon. But…yawn, it's time for bed now.

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