ACT III

They arrived with fifteen minutes to spare. Thankfully, they had appropriate visas and enough cash for two economy tickets. In an airport phone box, Rollin made two quick phone calls, neither long enough to be traced. They flew all night, arriving in Paris early in the morning.

The taxi queue moved swiftly. Rollin directed the driver in French to the American Express office. Cinnamon looked at him quizzically. He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. "Ca va, cherie?" he asked how she was, but revealed nothing.

She smiled back and squeezed his hand. "Bien, merci." So, he was going to be a man of mystery. She leaned back against the vinyl seat, happy and confident that he would take excellent care of her.

They were silent on the ride into the city. Cinnamon smiled as the white spires of Sacre Couer came into view, guarding the city from the hills of Montmartre.

On every other visit to this wonderful city, she had been modeling some of the world’s best designers’ latest creations - a far cry from her current outfit. She smoothed the drab brown skirt, now filthy from their adventure.

Rollin leaned close and kissed her neck below her ear, softly whispering in English, "Soon." She pulled his hand into her lap, clasping it between both of hers.

They turned off the Peripherique and onto a wide boulevard. Spring had reached Paris – she could see buds on trees, flowers spilling from the window boxes and balcony gardens, and chic Parisiens on their way to work, rushing past the waiters opening the sidewalk cafes. The city was awake.

As the traffic tightened, the driver left the main avenue to navigate the narrow side roads, arriving swiftly at the AMEX office opposite the Opera. Rollin released her fingers, "Reste ici, cherie." It was part question, part command and she nodded, waiting in the taxi. She studied the Opera opposite – gleaming in the sun, gold gilding sparkling, glorious angels, beautiful blue skies above with white puffy clouds. She remembered she had always thought Paris was the most romantic city in the world, but it never felt as exciting as it did today.

Less than five minutes later Rollin bounded down the stairs and back toward the taxi. Cinnamon smiled, noting the spring in his step and a small bundle under his arm. He told the driver, “Le Ritz, s’il vous plait." The driver acknowledged and pulled the taxi into the traffic of the busy quarter.

Cinnamon watched closely as Rollin opened the package – a large padded envelope - and signaled with his eyes for her to open her purse. He pulled the Anna Vronsky identity card from her bag and tucked it into his envelope. She could see two large stacks of currency – dollars and francs. He pulled out a blue passport, turned the cover slightly with his thumb to see the first page, then he slipped it into the breast pocket of his shabby corduroy jacket. He pulled out a second matching blue passport – she could see the US seal – and slipped it into her purse, then closed the envelope.

She watched him closely and he nodded imperceptibly. She had always marveled at his ability to nod without actually moving his head. She kept the passport in her clutch bag, but opened the cover. She was not surprised to see her own face staring back at her. She knew the agency had passports of many nations and identities, held at embassies around the world, which bore her photo, as well as the photographs of other active IMF agents. What did surprise her was the name, "Cinnamon Carter."

She looked up suddenly at Rollin. He had arranged for her to be … herself. Suddenly her eyes watered and she knew she was blushing. He placed his arm across her shoulders and squeezed softly. She reached for his cheek and held him still to meet his kiss with her own, thanking him for understanding the importance to her.

Softly he brushed her tears away, "Pleur pas, cherie."

"Mais comment tu l’as?" she softly asked how he did it.

"C’est magique, ma cherie."

She leaned against him, enjoying the ride.

The taxi pulled into the Place Vendôme and took the narrow drive to the entrance to The Ritz. Rollin exited quickly, reaching for Cinnamon’s hand, then leaned in to pay driver. As the taxi moved away he pointedly shifted to English, "At last, darling," and pulled Cinnamon closer.

Cinnamon smiled, "At last." She laced her arm through his and whispered, "I usually turn up in something a little more a la mode."

"Poise and composure – works every time. Besides you’ll be the most beautiful woman in the place. No one will notice that this time you’re modeling the height of fashion from Gbrest."

The doorman nodded as he opened the door. The concierge recognized both Cinnamon and Rollin and welcomed them back, but without using any names – the soul of discretion, as any top hotel concierge should be. They were invited to sit in a quiet side room as the concierge summoned the assistant manager to process formalities.

Cinnamon was not surprised when Rollin turned over a credit card belonging to Rollin Hand. He requested a suite and explained there had been problems with their luggage – a long story - and asked for a shirt in his size, a shaving kit and other amenities to be sent to the suite.

Rollin also asked the assistant manager, "Would you please contact Monsieur Yves Delacourt? He’s near the Place Madeleine…"

"Yes, sir. We know M. Delacourt, an excellent choice, sir."

"Please tell M. Delacourt I’d like him to send over a couple of suits, shoes, shirts, ties and everything else I’d need for a few days to the hotel. He keeps my measurements on file."

"Very good, sir. If there is anything further you require my colleagues and I stand ready to assist you."

"One last thing – would it be possible to arrange for a masseuse and masseur to come to our suite as soon as possible?"

"I will make arrangements now."

Rollin rose to shake his hand "Thank you Jean-Marc. I’m sure we’ll be very comfortable here."

Cinnamon felt she had floated into the gorgeous suite, she was so happy to be there. She crossed the spacious sitting room to the large window to take in the view of Place Vendôme and the rooftops beyond. She sensed Rollin come to stand behind her. He held her shoulders, admiring her more than the view, and was leaning down to kiss her when the bell to the suite rang - another bell man with amenity kits, and a masseur and masseuse, both with tables.

Cinnamon enjoyed the massage, feeling vitality return to her back and legs after being cramped for so many days. She drifted lightly, imagining Rollin’s hands on her thighs. Post massage, she showered and wrapped herself in the hotel’s comfortable terry cloth robe. Rollin was not in the bedroom, but in the sitting room also in a robe, staring out the window across the Parisian rooftops.

He turned as she entered, "Feel better?"

"Much."

"I jumped into the other shower." He had also shaved.

"So I see." She moved toward him and caressed his smooth cheek. "Thank you for bringing me here."

He reached for her hands, "My pleasure." He pulled her to him and she turned in his arms to press her back against him and take in the view through the window. She sighed. His arms held her elbows snugly against her sides. She gazed out at Paris and felt his cheek rest gently on top of her head. He held her close.

Cinnamon asked softly, "Who’d you call?"

"Barney."

"And?"

"All I said was we were fine but we needed a break." He kissed her hair softly, inhaling the scent.

"Will he tell Jim?"

"Yeah. Jim’s out, but still in transit. With the good doctor, I suspect."

Cinnamon nodded, "The de-brief?"

"I gave Barney the top line. He wants us to call Jim if we’re not back in a few days." He nuzzled against her damp hair. He wanted her to relax but sensed she wasn’t ready, "Know what?" He kissed her neck.

"What?"

"We’re safe. We’re off duty now. We’re on vacation. We’re in the finest suite at The Ritz – which happens to be the biggest room they’ve got after the ballroom which was previously reserved." He kissed her again softly. "And you’re you and I’m just me."

She pulled his arms closer, "Does he know where we are?"

"Paris, yes, but not here. They could find us easily enough."

"The papers?"

"Barney. Money too." He grazed his lips across her cheekbone lightly.

"Do you think he knows?" She was more serious than he expected.

"That I adore you? Definitely." He nuzzled under the collar of her robe to nibble on her shoulder.

She turned and smiled at him, "About us?"

He smiled, "There isn’t an us yet," and leaned down to meet her forehead with his. "So wha-"

She joined in, "So what’s to know," and kissed him deeply.

"Tired?" He asked softly.

"Not really."

"Want to get in bed anyway?" he whispered. She pursed her lips, partially suppressing a smile, and walked slowly to the bedroom.

Suddenly, a thousand thoughts and emotions crowded her mind. First was her excitement and anticipation at what was to come. Next came the frightening realization that she was about to change everything about her relationship with Rollin. Along with that came all the consequences of her actions – violating policy, certainly upsetting the secretary, possibly disappointing Jim by changing the dynamics of the team. Mixed in was her desire for Rollin - the ache and yearning she felt throughout her body.

Adding to her confusion was the blur – for the first time she was in a space that was neither wholly mission nor wholly personal and her two previously separate identities were about to collide. She had pressed Rollin to allow her to be herself, but who was she really in a moment like this?

She took off her robe and lay it across a chair, then turned back the covers and climbed under the inviting sheets, lying back against the pillows, still pensive. In the time it took Rollin to put the do not disturb sign on the door, she was already mentally back in Los Angeles wrestling with all the new complications this would bring to her life.

He tossed his robe toward the chair and climbed easily across the bed to lie beside her. All he was thinking was at last – how long and how much he had wanted her. He leaned over her and caressed her cheek softly. His hand drifted down her smooth skin, drawing back the sheets as he admired her body. "Cinnamon, you are so beautiful. I’ve wanted you – wanted to be with you – for … it feels like forever."

She smiled and met his lips as he leaned down to kiss her. As much as her body was tingling with desire, she was aware that she was not completely there. She knew she was somehow removed – watching. Watching herself enjoy herself, but still disconnected somehow, observing from outside her own body. She knew she had gone too far ahead, thinking about what happens after, when we get back? How will it be? What will it mean?

Rollin picked up on this and raised his head, "Something’s wrong…"

She told him "I’m so happy to be here, with you. But part of me is still in all those small spaces and part of me is in LA wondering what the secretary will say …"

Rollin held her shoulder, "Cin – it’s just us – you and me - and we’re here, now."

Cinnamon knew Rollin was by nature much more prepared than she was to live ‘in the moment.’ Was that what had happened? Had they had been caught up in the events and the danger, being forced together and swept along to this moment. "Rollin, in Gbrest, you would have made whomever you were with leave the ministry with you, wouldn’t you?"

He was confused, "What do you mean?"

"In Gbrest, even if it hadn’t been me, you would have insisted Jim or Barney or Willy leave with you too, right?"

"Yeah. Of course I would." Suddenly, he understood her angle. "But wait a minute, Cinnamon, I wouldn’t have kissed them."

She did not react and he hung his head, wounded that she now doubted his devotion to her, his feelings for her alone. She quickly saw how much she had hurt him. She reached for him, one hand on his cheek, the other on his chest. "I’m being silly – sorry."

"Cinnamon, if that’s how you feel, that this is just -"

"No, it’s not. I’m scared, Rollin. I’m scared."

"Why?"

"I’m not sure." She paused, because she was not being truthful and couldn’t be dishonest with him. "Because this changes everything between us – forever. There’s no going back."

"I know." He turned his head to kiss her hand softly. "I can’t wait to find out what happens next."

"I just keep thinking - "

"Think less. What are you feeling?"

Cinnamon sighed. "That I want to be with you."

Rollin nodded. "Me too. You’ve gotta know how I feel about you. I’ve been trying to show you how much I love you."

Cinnamon smiled. "You have – very much.

Rollin leaned across her, pressing his body against hers, relieved at what he was hearing. "Let me reinforce it: I love you." He buried his head in her neck, kissing his way to her breasts.

"I know that you do. I understand that."

"See – you’re thinking again. Let me show you."

She finally relaxed and accepted all her ardent suitor had to offer. He was eager, but also generous, giving, and very inventive.

Later, lying together, tangled in the silky sheets, Cinnamon could not fathom that she had hesitated. She rolled onto Rollin’s chest, "Thank you for waiting, and for letting me be me, and for helping me let go."

Rollin held her elbows, "Thank you for being you with me." He caressed her shoulders, "And I’m glad we waited. I’m glad we could be here. You know I’ve always thought this was the most beautiful city in the world, but it became even more special today."

"I guess it’s true – you are the most charming man I’ve ever met." She leaned down to kiss him.

"Only because of you – I think you bring out the charmer in me."

Cinnamon grinned, "Oh no, it’s innate within you, not something I do."

"Then you make me more me." Rollin pronounced solemnly, brushing her hair away from her eyes.

"More who?" Cinnamon wondered, but did not voice as she curled against him. She must have drifted off to sleep because the next thing she knew Rollin was tracing the length of her leg with his toe and calling to her softly. "Hmmm?" she answered finally, eyes still closed.

"How about lunch?"

"Ummm. Good idea." She turned and tucked her head under his chin.

"I know a great café," He kissed her hair.

"Oh good. Wait – I don’t have any clothes. We need to go shopping."

"I can’t handle shopping on an empty stomach. How ‘bout room service?"

She stirred, wiping her eyes and leaning on his chest. "It would be nice to get outside – out in the open."

"We can hop in a taxi, have lunch outside even, then shop to your heart’s content."

"How will our Gbrest finery go down in your favorite café?"

"Non-issue." He reached for the phone. "Let me check with housekeeping – at least our things should be clean by now."

Less than an hour later the taxi deposited them at Café Deux Magots, Hemingway’s haunt and a landmark on the Left Bank. Rollin took her hand and crossed the street, headed for the Café St.Germain-de-Près.

"Whaaa?" she asked teasingly.

"Trust me. Same view, same people watching, better beer, cheaper prices – and we meet the fashion standard."

They had a lovely sidewalk table in no time. They were both starving after their ordeal. The waiter offered "Du pain?" and they both emphatically declined more bread. Cinnamon had a salade mixte. Rollin ordered moules marinière and a Trappist beer. He served Cinnamon some of his mussels as they awaited the steak frites each had ordered as a main course.

They finished the meal with a quick espresso. Rollin snuffed out his cigarette feeling sufficiently girded to attempt shopping and directed a taxi to one of Cinnamon’s favorite shops on the glamorous Rue Faubourg- St Honore. Within minutes of entering the boutique, the manageress recognized Cinnamon, welcomed her with a loving embrace, and directed them to a private room at the back.

Rollin was offered all the espresso he could drink as Cinnamon traded her drab outfit for a chic spring suit with matching shoes and bag. The pale pink color suited her perfectly. She selected a few other outfits, shoes, make-up, and other basics and had them sent to the hotel. She also chose a midnight blue cashmere v-neck for Rollin. He happily abandoned his dingy corduroy jacket.

Having accomplished the day’s mission, they walked together holding hands in the Tuilleries garden. Rollin was impressed. "I’ve never been shopping with a top model. I think they pulled out all the stops."

Cinnamon laughed. “I know it made things go more smoothly, but it’s a little disconcerting to be an undercover agent and be recognized. “

Rollin agreed, "In the store and at the hotel."

"You too at the hotel – it’s not just me. You’re no better – leading man and top spy."

Rollin sighed, "Yeah well it proves my theory that the world is shrinking."

"It is a little counter-intuitive to be a spy when your cover profession is designed to make your face famous." Cinnamon mused.

Rollin brought her hand to his lips, "Counter-productive, too. It’ll catch up with us you know. Someday."

Now it was Cinnamon’s turn to sigh. "I know. I just don’t know what I’ll do then. I don’t really have a Plan B."

He tried to lighten things up, "I’m convinced I’ll infiltrate some underworld crime family and lean down to kiss the ring and the don will say ‘hey didn’t I see youze in dat play my lady friend made me take her to see?’"

Cinnamon smiled and laced her arm through his, moving closer so their hips brushed together as they walked side by side through the trees toward the bank of the Seine. He glanced at her sideways, wondering what was on her mind. "And you – soon you are going to be restricted to missions which only involve non-subscribers to Vogue and Lady Beautiful."

Cinnamon raised her eyebrows in agreement, "I know. If they launch an Eastern European edition, I’m sunk."

He laughed heartily and wrapped his arm around her shoulder protectively. After awhile she asked, "Rollin, what was it that made you want to be in the game?"

"Hmmm. I don’t know really. Adventure, I guess. I foolishly believed I’d get to see the world."

"Haven’t you?"

"Sure, I’ve seen the world. It’s just that half of it was through the breathing hole in one of Barney’s hidden panels or contraptions like Gregor’s box." Cinnamon laughed. "Or through the eye slit of a latex mask, pretending to be someone else. I guess that’s a better analogy."

"I know what you mean – not getting to see things with our own eyes because we’re always playing someone else."

"True. But it’s the ultimate performance for an actor – get it wrong and it’s really curtains."

"So you’re in it for the thrill?"

He turned to her, pulling her into his embrace, "Well, you do get to meet the most interesting people." He kissed her gently, hoping to get her onto a new subject.

Cinnamon smiled "And put them in jail, and de-stabilize their governments, and get them to turn on each other."

"Is that what you like about it? Am I about to find out you’re a caped crusader?" He asked almost incredulous.

"It’s part of it – part of why it’s satisfying. Think about it Rollin – as a woman today my options are housewife, teacher, secretary, nurse. I got lucky as a model. When the company first approached me I thought I’d have a chance to make a difference in way I never could in a regular job."

"But Cin, you’re a hugely successful model."

"Yes and I can influence the look on the catwalk and launch new lipstick colors. It’s somehow not quite so satisfying as putting a drug lord behind bars or deposing a dictator."

"Touché!"

"Sorry – I’m on my high horse."

"No need to apologize. I’m fascinated – by everything about you." He led her to a bench and pulled her down next to him. "Tell me more."

"Tell me something about you."

"Whadda ya wanna know?"

"You tell me."

"Well …" he looked at her closely, then away. He decided not to hold back and turned to face her, "I’m passionately in love with you. I think this might be the best day of my life so far. Let’s see what else?" He reached over to nuzzle her neck and pull her against him.

"Be serious."

"I am serious!" He protested. She sighed.

Rollin continued to kiss her softly between his responses. "You know my star sign; favorite color, drink, cigarettes, car, song, singer – male and female, movie, basketball team, author, playwright, play, role, my shirt size, suit size, shoe size, that I prefer boxers to briefs, blondes to brunettes, models to actresses, and that I’m a leg man." He caressed her thigh for emphasis.

"Okay. I don’t even know if your real name is Rollin Hand. You could have multiple identities stashed in cities around the globe like you do your tailors."

"I do have multiple identities stashed in cities around the globe. I think of it as insurance. I recommend it by the way - it’s my Plan B. And Rollin Hand is my real name."

"Okay. I don’t even know your middle name."

"What do you think it is?" He asked, wrapping his arms around her.

She enjoyed his embrace. "I don’t know. You are such a Rollin to me. I’m glad it is your real name. I’ve called you so many other names on missions, but none of them has ever seemed right."

"What would you like my middle name to be?"

"I don’t know. Nothing seems to go so well with Rollin."

"Exactly." He kissed her lips. "I don’t have a middle name. All your mysteries solved? We could start back to the hotel and I’ll share anything you want there."

“Well, since we’re clearing up mysteries … Cinnamon? It’s a stage name for modeling. I was christened Cynthia. I think that’s why I like it when you call me Cin."

He kissed her again softly, "Your secret is safe with me, Cyn." He stood and pulled her to her feet. "Let’s go back and have a nap before dinner."

Cinnamon smiled - she doubted he had any intention of sleeping, but was happy to walk with him hand in hand toward the hotel. Not far from The Ritz Cinnamon spotted a handsome pair of silver cufflinks in a shop window and decided she wanted to surprise Rollin. She walked on a bit further.

"Darling?" she asked flirtatiously.

He smiled, happy to be addressed that way by her. "Yes, Sweetheart?"

"May I leave you here and meet you back at the hotel? There’s something I’d like to pick up."

She could see Rollin wasn’t thrilled with the idea of leaving her and smiled inwardly at his devotion to her. "I could come with you," he volunteered.

"I just need a little time to myself." Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a tiny lingerie shop across the street and gestured toward it. "I’d like to stop in there and surprise you later."

Rollin followed her finger and smiled, "Say no more." He kissed her sweetly. "I’ll go back and make some dinner plans."

"Are you hungry again?"

"Only for you," he whispered as he held her close.

She tilted her head up to kiss him, "Don’t worry if I’m about an hour or so. I’m going to stop at the salon in the hotel too."

"I’ll meet you in the suite. Call me there if you need anything."

"Thank you, Sweetheart."

"Your welcome, Darling."

He was still beaming as he turned the corner into Place Vendome, passing the up-market jewelry shops. He knew Cinnamon liked Bulgari and diamond earrings in the window caught his attention. The earrings were beautifully illuminated and sparkled in the dusky twilight. He walked on, but was drawn back. There was something special about the cut and the setting. Intending only to get a closer look, he ended up purchasing them on approval. If Cinnamon liked them as much as he thought she would, it would set him back a few month’s salary, from both of his professions. There was no question in his mind - she was worth it.

He returned to the suite, happy to see that M. Delacourt had delivered everything he would need, including an attractive suitcase. Cinnamon’s new purchases were similarly hanging in the other closet. He changed into new clothes, then poured himself a scotch from the bar and stretched across the couch to plan the perfect evening to top a perfect day.

Cinnamon arranged for the cufflinks to be quickly engraved and sent to the concierge at The Ritz. She stopped in the lingerie shop, more to preserve her cover than anything else. She happily found it was a worthwhile visit and purchased a few items.

She enjoyed the attention she received in the beauty salon. She glanced at her cream polished nails and checked her hair in the mirror. For the first time in over a week she felt pretty. On her way to the suite, she picked up the cufflinks from the concierge.

Thinking Rollin might actually be sleeping; she used her key to enter the suite. She was surprised not to see him sprawled across the bed. She placed her lingerie purchases and the cufflinks in her closet, and went to find him. Through the doorway, she saw champagne on ice and a dozen long-stem roses. Rollin was at the window, smoking a cigarette, wearing new gray trousers, black loafers, and a beautiful blue striped shirt with the sweater she chose for him. With the French doors to the balcony open, the noise from the street below masked her entrance.

She moved behind him and slid her arms under his to reach up and caress his shoulders pulling her body close against his back.

"I thought you were planning a nap."

"The bed looked too lonely without you." He answered, snuffing out his cigarette.

"There’s that charmer again."

He turned to pull her into his arms, "Come here. Your hair is gorgeous." He admired her lovingly. "How ‘bout some champagne?"

"Love some."

"Cigarette?"

"No, I’m okay thanks. If I’d known it was as simple as getting locked in an attic with you for four days, I’d have given up years ago." He smiled in response. "It’s getting chilly, without the sun."

He agreed and closed the balcony doors and drew the sheer white inner curtains shut. He opened the champagne and filled two crystal flutes. "To us, Sweetheart?" He teased.

Cinnamon smiled and moved nearer to him, "To us, Darling."

They kissed warmly, then leaned together on the couch, both feeling incredibly content. After awhile Cinnamon wriggled her toes out of her pumps. Rollin asked, "Too much walking?"

"I think I did okay for new shoes."

He emptied his glass and reached for her feet, pulling them into his lap. "Let me help. I’m hoping you feel like going dancing later tonight."

Cinnamon smiled both at the relief her feet felt and the thought of dancing with him. "I think that’s a wonderful idea." She lay back against the cushions enjoying Rollin’s firm foot massage. She smiled watching his intense concentration as he inched his thumb along her arch, first one stocking-ed foot than the other. "I think you deserve more champagne as a reward." She reached for the bottle and topped up both their glasses.

"Merci, Mademoiselle." He reached across her legs for his glass. "What should we drink to now?"

She smiled at him, "How about Paris?"

He met her smile, "To Paris." Their glasses met softly and both enjoyed the champagne. Rollin continued, "I, um, I want you to have something to remind you of … Paris." He reached behind the cushion and presented her with a small beautifully wrapped box.

Cinnamon accepted the box, her surprise clear. He leaned forward, his chin in his hand to watch her reaction. She removed the paper, eyes widening when she saw the Bulgari box, and opened it carefully. The gorgeous diamonds took her breath away. "Oh Rollin. They’re exquisite." She looked at him, eyes filled with love, overwhelmed.

"As you are." He leaned across her long legs and kissed her.

For a time she couldn’t say anything but "Thank you," still bowled over by his gesture and touched that he would choose a design that was so much to her taste. Awareness slowly seeped in and she saw how much this day must mean to him, not because of his extravagance, but his need to commemorate their time together. He hadn’t vocalized it. "Rollin, they will remind me of Paris, but would you mind if I thought of them as a reminder of you, of us, of being here together?"

"That would mean a lot to me." He pulled her toward him and kissed her passionately.

She broke away gently. "Stay right there." She left him puzzled on the couch and went to her closet, returning with her own small box to present to him. She sat next to him, curling her legs beneath her.

"I did a little shopping too – maybe not quite so extravagantly, but I wanted to give you something to thank you – not just for getting me out and bringing me here, but for arranging for me to be me, here, with you. It means so much to me that we could really be who we are. I know I’m not doing a very good job explaining why this felt so important to me, but you’ve treated it like it was, and that will always be very special to me."

He was watching her adoringly, waiting patiently for her to finish. She leaned over to kiss him again. "These are for you, Rollin. Thank you for being you."

He smiled as he opened the package. The cufflinks were silver squares, the perfect size, and each bore two tall letters "RH" bold and masculine within an engraved box on the face. He beamed as he pulled them out. "Cinnamon, they’re terrific."

"I wanted you to have something that had nothing to do with being on a mission, but all to do with being you."

He kissed her cheek, "Thank you. They’ll remind me… of me." Only another in their profession would really understand the significance.

"I love you."

"I love you. Go ahead - try ‘em on." She put on the earrings and turned her head from side to side so they would catch the light. "They’re gorgeous. Take a look."

She rose to look in the mirror. "Rollin, they’re perfect." She walked toward the window. "Everything is perfect." Cinnamon took in the view, framed by the big French windows behind the sheer inner curtains. She watched the lights twinkle – the city of lights. Rollin walked to her and embraced her strongly. Their lips met to taste, probe, and explore like tourists eager to experience all the fresh sensations of a new place.

Softly, softly he caressed her, his hands slipping under the cardigan style Chanel jacket, feeling the smooth silk of her blouse as he pulled her closer. He unbuttoned her blouse and slowly opened it, just enough to reach in, undo her front opening bra and run his warm fingertips across her breasts and over her nipples. She sighed, breaking off the kiss, but he gently pressed her backward and she felt the smooth, slightly cool, deep window frame support her back.

She tingled at every touch of his warm fingertips. He slowly unbuttoned more buttons. Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, she felt his lips move languidly from her neck to her breast and back again. She pressed back against the window frame and opened her eyes to look across the rooftops, memorizing this moment. She felt all her senses heightened. She noticed the weave of the damask curtains, the twinkling lights, the scent of the roses, the hint of champagne on his lips. Every experience became very tactile and textural. She noticed everything, not because her mind had wandered, but because she was so fully in the moment of being with him and became aware of so much more.

Her hands moved up his soft sweater to caress his neck. “Rollin…” she said softly.

“Shhh.” He silenced her with a kiss. With his hands on her hips, his fingers gently inched up the fabric of her skirt. She shuddered as one of his hands stroked down her hip to her thigh, ignoring the garter holding her silk stockings and inching closer to the lace of her panties.

He raised his right hand to trace her magnificent cheekbone and she turned her head to take in his fingers - kissing, then licking each in turn. He lowered that hand and hooked his thumb under the lace edge of her panties, shifting the center panel to the side to allow his fingers to reach inside of her. She shuddered again and her knees buckled slightly as she reacted to his touch. His left arm supported her against the cool wood and he bit lightly into her long neck.

She felt him pressing against her stomach and reached for his belt buckle. But he pressed her against the wall and said huskily, "Let me." He kissed her so she could not respond, and with his right hand unfastened his belt and trousers.

He lifted her, cupping her bottom, so her legs were to either side of him, and slid into her. The feeling was so intense that neither could move. Both were afraid of what the sensation would do to them.

Cinnamon could feel her heart beating against his and knew this was really it – the sensation she had been waiting for most of her life. In the morning she had enjoyed making love with him – Rollin was warm and loving, she enjoyed his body, they were compatible lovers – but this was spiritual.

Finally Rollin was able to move slightly within her and she convulsed from the intensity. His moan echoed hers. She clutched at the curtain. Her head tipped back to touch the wooden window frame for security. He moved again, his breathing deep and husky, and pressed his cheek to hers. She turned to kiss his temple, cradling his head in her hands. He turned to meet her lips with his. They devoured each other hungrily.

Rollin broke away to catch his breath, then moved his hands from her legs to reach behind her and grasp the wooden paneling surrounding the window. She wrapped her legs around him. He pressed against her and they slid up and down along the smooth frame. “Oh Cin” was all he could manage to say as he moved with her. Then he reached for her legs, pulling her against him. She clutched against him screaming his name as she gasped for air. His explosion came seconds after hers.

Both were breathless. Cinnamon could feel her heart pounding in her chest, in her ears, behind her eyes, and between her thighs. Rollin carefully bent his knees and she felt her toes touch the ground. She was shaky on her feet and they leaned together, embracing, her breasts pressed against the soft cashmere of his sweater, his hands smoothing the silk of her blouse along her back.

He kissed her neck, her cheek, her forehead with tiny, soft, gentle caresses. "Cinnamon – I don’t want to let you go – ever."

Cinnamon was teary with emotion, "I know. Me neither."

He pulled her closer. “I won’t. I promise.”

They stayed leaning against the window frame until her eyes dried.

She smiled as she looked up at him and kissed him softly. “Didn’t you promise to take me dancing?”

He grinned, “Still wanna go?