The early morning light slowly seeps through the window and gradually illuminates the ultra-modern motel room.  On the wall directly in front of me is an oversized, framed Escher print.  The black and grey shades of the elaborate illustration stark on an otherwise pure white wall.  I can’t sleep and am lying on my back, propped up by pillows.  For the past thirty minutes or so I’ve been half watching the print become clearer as more and more sunlight enters the room.

My inability to return to sleep does not concern me.  I’ve already had a few hours and have no real desire for more.  I can, and have on numerous occasions, existed on a lot less sleep than I’ve already had.  Truth be told, I feel wonderfully content.  I may not be home, I may be in yet another strange motel room in another strange city, but none of that matters.  As long as he is by my side I think I could be happy anywhere.  No, I know I could be happy...

Turning my head slightly, I take in the vision of the body that is lying fast asleep next to me and smile.  Chris is on his stomach, his serene face turned towards me.  One arm is thrown over my chest in a way that can either be read as casual affection or as a sign of possession.  Either way is fine with me.

My smile slips a little as I notice Chris’ other hand.  It’s under his pillow and is no doubt wrapped around his Smith & Wesson.  The same Smith & Wesson that he slips under his pillow every night.  This cold, steel security blanket worries me.  I know better than to raise the issue though.  It worries me not because I fear that he may have to suddenly use it, but because he feels he needs it.  I’d like to be able to replace this need, however I feel I don’t have anything viable to offer him in return.  The best I can offer is to not to give up; to hang around for the long haul and to be there if ever he needs me.

I bite back a sigh, not wanting to wake him, as I turn my attention back to the print.  Lightly resting my hand over his, I let my mind wander to happier thoughts.  Needless to say these thoughts involve Chris.

// From the first moment I laid eyes on him, striding purposefully around the CI5 office, I knew I wanted him.  Initially I didn’t particularly care whether this want eventuated in the form of a relationship or a one night stand.  Just as initially this want existed purely in a physical sense.  I’m the first to admit that I am inordinately fond of the finer things in life, and Chris is very fine indeed.  Tall and slim with a smooth, fit body.  Deep dimples appear in his cheeks when he smiles and he has wide spaced, slightly slanted, almond-shaped blue eyes. Like cats eyes they are.  Short, spiky light brown hair, full lips and an eternal paleness adding to the more than pleasant picture he makes.

To my utter delight, Malone paired us together.  I bided my time, planned my moves and then, to my surprise, my feelings gradually changed.  They went from the basest of physical desires to something stronger.  Working so closely together, I began to respect Chris and see more attributes in him than the purely physical ones.  His skill, his professionalism, his loyalty and his determination being but a few of his characteristics I came to appreciate.

As more and more pieces of the jigsaw that is Chris Keel became apparent to me, I found that I would no longer be content with a one night stand.  He changed in my mind from being a mere sexual object that I wished to obtain (consume?) to a person that I genuinely wanted to spend my time with.  This confused, and to a certain extent, dismayed me.  The apparent rule of no relationships on the job was not one I really wanted to push.

My feelings eventually came to a head after an assignment sent the pair of us to South Africa to look into the ivory trade.  Whilst we there our hired plane was sabotaged and we crashed into the desert.  I will never, for as long as I live, forget the sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach as I staggered around the wreckage and saw Chris.  I thought he was dead.  He was just lying there, unmoving.  The relief I felt when he moved was unlike any I have ever known.  Fortunately, in some ways, his main injury was only a broken leg.  After fashioning a brace and a crutch, we set off walking.  We had no choice.  To remain with what was left of the plane would have resulted in the pair of us being nothing more than sitting targets.

As we walked, well, *limped* across the desolate landscape I had to have my arm around Chris in order to steady him.  The gravity of our situation aside, I enjoyed the feeling of my arm encircling his body.  The sensations this caused in me renewing and strengthening my dormant desires.  If not for Chris’ injuries and our barren surroundings, I would have liked nothing more than to have taken him on the spot.  Remarkably, I controlled this feeling and after a few more misadventures, we made it back to civilisation.

I didn’t allow myself to fully relax until we were safely on an airliner heading back to London.  Then, on the plane, just after asking whether I cared to make a bet in regards to the meat substance in our alleged meal being that of a previously undiscovered brand of edible hiking boot, Chris simply thanked me...

Before I could query this out of the blue acknowledgment, he continued.  Thanking me for my refusal to leave him and determination that we were both going to make it.  He’d had his doubts and confessed that without me, he may have simply given up.  He sounded so serious that I tried to make a joke of the moment.  Telling him that if he began to sing ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ I was going to ask to change seats.

Instead of laughing, as I hoped he would, he looked straight at me, slowly blinked those beautiful eyes of his and quietly yet firmly reiterated his thanks.

That was it.  I lost it.  I declared vehemently that I never would have left him.  That I would have preferred to have died with him before I abandoned him and that it was because I cared for him greatly...  The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Chris’ eyes immediately widened and he whispered, "Neat," or an Americanism to that effect.  I watched, embarrassed, with increasing disbelief as he grinned at me.  A Cheshire Cat smile that merely added to his feline-like appearance.  I couldn’t help but grin back.  He appeared to be sincerely happy with my declaration.  This was further proven when his hand suddenly slipped under my tray and come to a gentle rest on my crotch.

I had so much more that I wanted to say but Chris, having said his piece and made his point, leant his head on my shoulder and immediately fell into a contented sleep.  I was so delighted in the feeling of his hand, warm on my lap for the remainder of the flight that I forgave him for his medication induced dribbling on my leather jacket.  Greater love hath no man than he sacrifices the quality of his leather jacket in order for it to become a glorified pillow case.

Upon arriving at Heathrow, we detoured via my place and for the second time in a week, Malone had to wait.  Chris, although still injured, exhausted me.  Until then I - mistakenly - thought I knew all the tricks of sexual pleasure.  As we lay sated, wrapped around one another, he looked at me with a completely innocent expression and asked whether I’d forgotten that he’d been in the Navy...  Having no rebuttal to this, I responded with another kiss.