Being back in Chicago was no thrill this time. Dianne wrestled with the embarrassment of facing Colin Palin, her very successful - but very busy - agent. Her face colored when she thought about the newspaper pages she had looked at with Rex.

Concert pianist hides sexy past!

Famous musician in sleazy secret!

Topless stint reveals pianist's inelegant escapades!

Talented pianist's topless turn!The headlines all pointed a hot accusing finger at Dianne, and Rex too seemed shut away from her and humiliated by her past at the Turned Leaf night club. How on earth was she going to weather this? It had all the potential to ruin her new career. She thought - they all thought - it would be so great. Checks had started to come in. Dianne was once more financial, once more able to concentrate on her music. Once more elegant, poised and calm. It seemed foolproof.

And what about life with Rex? It was a real relationship, for once. It was the first time in her life Dianne had ever sustained a rapport with a man who took her seriously. No longer was she a sex object, good only for bouts of extraordinary sex. She did not have to parade half naked in front of a group of old voyeurs, who loved having her pleasure one of them, while they watched.

But memories of her time with Brian were now refreshed, the old feeling suddenly came back to haunt her, and Rex was starting to look at her differently. He was sullen and morose, talking on his phone to Colin and rubbing the crease between his eyes. The news had broken in Chicago and Dianne's reputation was dragged through the mud.

'Let's be realistic about this... Let's...' Rex could not rationalize his emotion. He was involved with Dianne and now was too bound up in what they had started to feel for each other to devise some strategy that would salvage Dianne's career. It would have to be Colin.

Rex left, shaking his head and not bothering to offer sympathy or encouragement. He was too overcome with disappointment.

Dianne sat in complete misery in her new Chicago apartment. It was not far from Rex's place, but it may as well have been half way around the globe. She felt alone and disheartened. Again. Again! How many times would this happen? She hated her past catching up with her, but truthfully - how could she ever suppose it would not?

She stripped off her negligee and nightdress, looked at her body in the wall of mirrors and sighed. Well - there she was: everyone said she was beautiful, exceptionally sexy. Everyone thought her figure was arresting and arousing. Perhaps it was, but it brought more trouble than peace, and created more problems than it solved. She lifted her breasts and shook her head of rich brown curls, never taking her gaze from the mirror.

Her body put her into trouble, and her body pulled her back out of it. What else did Rex want 'from her but sex? He was just like all the rest - willing to take advantage of her. Or was he different? Rex was different in the sense that he appreciated her other talents too: her ability to charm an audience with her piano playing. But was that all? He seemed ready to abandon her at the first whiff of difficulty. Oh Rex - not you too.

She wiggled her hips with a sarcastic grin on her face, and reflected on her appearance. She was the same as other women - only slightly more attractive. Men said her breasts were perfect. It was her best asset, to have such a body. Would she have to use it to make her living once more? Back to sleazy dives to keep her head above water?

Dianne ran a bath, looking at the cascading water despondently. Dipping a foot into foamy suds, she swished and twirled her ankle, but had no real wish to soak her mood away. She was miserable. Miserable and naked: just like she nearly always was. Shutting off the water, she stamped into her bedroom, opened the French window and looked at the fire escape. If she stood out there, in full sight of the building across the way, she would be seen by all the people behind those windows: seen exactly for what she was: a body. All those windows - how many people behind those panes of glass could say they were really happy? What was the reason for their existence?

She backed into the room and scrambled about for something she always figured would confirm the reason for her existence. There it was! Her fingers twined around the long gold chain, and the black pearl pendant dangled in front of her eyes. There!

She slung the chain over her head and the jewel swung once more from its unusual length. Between navel and pubis, it hung, like so many times before, announcing her nakedness strongly and with a kind of arrogance. She would have to be naked now - naked and arrogant.

In the bathroom, she reached for her depilation creams and took off - once and for all - the newly grown pubic curls, her love curls, in a mass of pungent foam. She rinsed and stroked her mound and regarded it in the mirror. There! On show, her plump outer folds looked rosy from her efforts to scrape away every last wisp of hair. She tweaked herself so that her pink inner lips forced themselves into focus. They had given so much pleasure... and not only to others. She had swooned with delight to have her inner core thrummed and licked and sucked and pulled by the entrance of a lusty penis. Or a jade dildo. Or a set of vibrating balls that thrilled her to the extreme. Aahh! What pleasure she had felt. It was not over, was it? She searched for something to pleasure herself with. She wriggled her hips in anticipation, and licked her lips.

On the yacht, Rex had raised her to paroxyms of delight. His lovemaking was lusty and strong. He entered her smoothly and stayed there long, pleasurably long, until she fainted from every single subtle move he made. Now, all she wanted was to replicate that pleasure: to cancel all thoughts of humiliation, loss, and futility with masturbation. She scrabbled for a dildo, and found the green jade man: the statuette that had blatantly stood on her bedside chest, and which now nestled among her underwear. Goodness, it seemed a long time ago. Or just like yesterday!

First, Dianne figured, she would get a sexy blast of air on the balcony. She would finger her vulva out there, for anyone who cared to look. Then she would come and lie in her room, and slowly put herself into a dither of passion, touching and stroking and then forcefully plunging with the cold cold jade dildo. And she would keep plunging, plunging until her arm tired. Until her breathing was ragged and savage. Until her pelvis heaved with such uncontrollable spasms that it was no longer possible to go on. Until she had climaxed so many times her mind would be blown, her body ravaged and her mind stilled from all the useless meaningless thoughts.

She was moist from simply thinking of what she would do to herself. Her inner lips swelled welcomingly, and a trickle of wetness started down her thigh. She was so good at this. She knew how to bring herself to the edge of things. To the very brink of sexual prowess. No one could love her like this... could they? A tear crept to the corner of one eye, but she ignored it, squatted and played with her cunt, then backed slowly into the room and went on, throwing herself down on the bed, opening her legs wide until she could spread no wider, and smoothed and stroked until her eyes closed and her mind went blank. Ahhh. The dildo. Now, the jade phallus would do its work.

Its cold head introduced its presence. Oooooh. Yes. It widened her entry, and she pushed. Yes. At last, that tugging sensation of fullness. In and out it plunged, as if powered by something other than her own hand. Her mouth started to emit meaningless cries, sounding like a bird in distress, an animal beaten by its stalker. She moaned out load, then shouted out her wild abandon to the four walls of her room.

Then the breathlessness came, and the sound of something in the far distance of her mind. One climax. There. Onward - more. The dildo worked once more, her breathing slowed, and the noise was there again. Dianne's hand stopped. She slowly pulled the wet phallus out and winced at the sucking feeling of its exit. What was that noise? Sitting up on her mussed bed, she looked around. The balcony door was thrown open, but she did not care. She heard traffic and other ordinary everyday sounds, but something had stopped her in her lusty track.

There it was again. Someone was at the door.

Champagne-colored silk swirled and swished around Dianne's ankles. Looking at it in disbelief, she pinched her forearm. Yes - she was awake, and she was really wearing this stunning gown whose color, cut and texture were so luxuriously stunning she had to inhale and sigh again and again.

'Look,' said a female voice on the periphery of her mind. 'Look - don't you look gorgeous?' It was Athena, a real friend at a time she almost thought she would have no friends. Athena herself was extraordinarily pretty; her high forehead decorated with light sandy bangs, her wide mouth seemed almost eternally smiling. She was lovely - and very pregnant.

'Athena - I really feel great.' It was all Dianne could say.

'You should - you've lost some weight, but it must be the excitement of everything happening at once.' She shifted heavily in the tub chair and breathed deeply. 'I know all about excitement... and now, all about being kicked on the inside by what feels like a team of eels.'

The women laughed and looked at each other with affection.

'Do you like this neckline?'

'Dianne! Don't fuss any more. You know you look perfect now - and will look even more amazing on the day. You're marrying my brother, and I'm the best authority on his likes and dislikes, so far!'

How could Dianne believe it was all going to happen? It was not always like this. Fate seemed poised to interrupt and disrupt with unerring precision. She was sure some disaster would happen on the day. Only four nights away, it seemed like an eternity into the future. Still, she could not understand how a man like Rex wanted her, and wanted her so badly and for so long he had actually said the words that had eventually propelled her into this state of excitement. Eventually put her in this expensive designer's rooms - trying on wedding gowns!

She twirled once more and the silk rustled against her legs. Someone was holding out a pair of matching pumps, and someone else was arranging a veil that seemed composed of a thousand filaments of light. Was this all for her?

Lanfranco Depuis, the designer entered and adjusted the bodice of the gown. With a mouthful of pins, his assistant took in another thin line along the side.

'You are purrr-fect, Madame,' said Lanfranco.

Dianne remembered being pampered by masseuses, beauticians and attendants before another ceremony, where she had pledged her body to Brian for the sole reason of sexual use. How different all this was: here she was pampered because she was famous. Because she was about to marry Rex Absalom: of the successful Boston Absaloms. Smiling at Lanfranco, she shook her head and a small crease appeared on her brow.

'Madame is not happy wiz ze gown?'

'Oh, Lanfranco... No. It's not that. The wedding dress is perfect.' She had to get rid of her memories. She had to smile.

She beamed at a mirror, where her skin looked rosy and her hair a wavy dream pouring down her back like a stream of shiny toffee. The reflection took her back to the day she had despaired so strongly she had masturbated until she was close to collapse in her Chicago apartment.

Her hand stopped in mid air. There was that noise again. Someone was at the door, and the way they were knocking was neither hesitant nor polite. Wrapping a robe tightly around her nakedness, Dianne thought that perhaps Rex had regretted his swift departure and had returned to comfort her.

It had to be Rex: he was an understanding man - he would take her in his arms and say things to make her feel better about the whole situation. He would say it didn't matter about the headlines, it didn't matter that her reputation was changing from celebrated concert pianist to sleazy topless tart. He would say...

Dianne wrenched open the door.

'Rex...'

A sudden burst of bright lights and loud voices greeted her. Bright camera flashes popped in her eyes, and raucous questions, shouted at the top of a dozen reporters' voices, rattled her ears.

She slammed the door shut with as much energy as she could gather, but the noise behind it went on, and the questions seeped through.

'How will your career proceed, Miss Toliver?'

'Will you return to your nightclub life?'

'Dianne - Dianne... one photo, just one smile!'

'Is this the end of your career as a pianist?'

She hated all the questions, because she could not possibly answer them. She had no idea. No one could tell her how her career would go now. Rex could not tell her. Colin Palin was still biding his time. What was she to do? With her back against the door, her mind telling her that her form in a hastily drawn on robe would be seen in the papers tomorrow, to once more dismay her agent and the man she thought was her lover, she felt the tears of frustration start to seep past tightly closed eyes.

This was worse than anything that had ever happened to her. And on top of everything else, the phone was ringing.

Trying to ignore everything was impossible. What would happen if she put the receiver to her ear? She was sure there would be another reporter trying to string a few lines together for another sensationalist article. She was trapped: no exit through the door blocked with paparazzi. And the phone would not stop ringing. She would not descend via the fire escape. It was much too high and tricky. She was trapped.

She picked up and held the phone against her ear, walking and closing her bedroom door as a barrier between her and the apartment door, where loud knocks and shouts were deafening.

'Miss Toliver?' It was a man's voice, but not Rex. It was not Colin Palin, either - he always called her by her first name now.

'Yes?'

'Miss Toliver - are you quite all right. I read the papers. I can hear noise in the background.'

'It's the press - there are photographers... reporters...' her voice broke. Tears started to course down her cheeks.

'Dianne - Miss Toliver. This is Percy Olliphent.'

She gasped. 'Sir Percy.' Then she sniffed. Reaching for a box of tissues, she sat up straight although she knew he could not see her. 'Sir Percy - how can I help you?' This was the famous conductor who had led her in one of the very best concerts she had ever given in her life. She had played her heart out, wearing a silver gray gown that seemed made of pewter threads, her hair in an upswept chignon that showed off her lovely neck and shoulders. The audience had bellowed their approval, shouting for more, and she had played one of the more difficult piano pieces: Bach's prelude in C, as an encore. It brought the house down - the applause went on for long minutes, the whole audience jumping to its feet as one. Would she ever forget that night?

But Sir Percy was talking. '... and I thought I could be the one to help you - not the other way around!' The man was not young any more, but his voice was alert and vibrant. 'There is a way we can make everyone forget all this nonsense.'

'Really?' Dianne did not quite believe him.

'Can you meet me somewhere? When the hue and cry dies down, tonight, please be at the Crowne Plaza. At about eleven thirty - it'll be quiet and we can have a drink and discuss a move to quash all these silly sensationalist rumors.'

'But they are not...'

'I know what you feel, Dianne. Please believe me - I have a way to deal with this, and it will benefit all of us.'

'All of us...' She did not know what to say.

But the appointment was made, and Dianne only had to wait for the reporters to give up their vigil outside her door. Luckily, Chicago was a city in which so much happened that they would soon all trail off in search of some other headline. They all wanted a scoop: it was merely a matter of time. The noise behind the door lessened until it was completely silent out in the hallway.

By then, Dianne was wearing her dark blue Colman suit. It had brought her luck some weeks ago, when she had played for Colin Palin and Rex after her arrival in Chicago. It had made her feel restored and hopeful that she could erase her inelegant stint at the Turned Leaf.

Oh - why had she ever even thought of doing something so silly? Playing in skimpy outfits, playing topless: it was exciting and had drawn crowds, but it could not last. She was not happy. She occasionally got sexually excited, it was true, especially when couples crowded around the piano to look at much more than just her hands traveling up and down the keyboard. They looked at her breasts, either so scantily covered they tantalized or so blatantly bare they charged everyone - including her - with a sexual urge so raw and realistic they most probably went straight on to sex in the privacy of their own homes. Whereas she could only sigh and wish for someone to love.

They looked at her sleek hips and desired to touch her, and listened to music that was really not so important after all - she may as well have paraded in front of them, dancing. In essence, it was no more artistic than a lap dance or a pole dance... or whatever it was women did to turn themselves and others on.

Now, just when she thought she was at the end of her tether, a call from Sir Percy Olliphent! And here she was, on the way in a cab, having shaken off the last two reporters who followed her to the curb. What would the great man possibly have as a plan? She had no way of knowing.

Athena held Dianne's hands and smiled brightly. 'I remember my own wedding day,' she breathed. 'Let me tell you about it.'

Dianne smiled and listened to her new friend's description of a fairy tale day some years ago, when she had married a man she still thought of as the most wonderful man in the world.

'Oh - I'm sorry - but you must be wrong,' said Dianne with a straight face. 'Because you see, I think I have got him. The most wonderful man in the world is Rex Absalom - and you should know, being his sister.'

Athena laughed. 'Then there must be two of them!'

Dianne nodded. Rex truly was wonderful. He had stormed out of her flat that day not to chalk her out of his life but to start working on strategies to salvage her career. But foremost in his mind was not merely her piano playing.

Later, much later, he had explained to her.

His deep voice, clear eyes and sleeked back hair made her heart leap as his explanation came out in long sentences, punctuated by tiny kisses that he placed on her lips. 'Listen - I was desperate to restore your happiness... piano playing, music - yes! But what I wanted most of all was for you to be happy, serene - and I could not bear to see you like that. So I took off.'

One of the first places she knew he visited was a florist - which was why her hallway was a river of flowers when she got back from her chat with Sir Percy that night. She could hardly believe what she saw: a stream of yellow daffodils and blue irises stretched away on either side of her apartment door. Cards bearing Rex's words were strewn all around.

"This is just an interval... the music will resume. I love you." She picked up one, and then another - they all said encouraging words she had to believe. She gathered an armful of blooms and tears of happiness started to fall among them. Inside, her phone was ringing. In her heart, she knew it would be Rex.

'We are going to have bad times... and good times together,' he said. 'All we have to do is work out how to get out of this slump. I've called a few people.'

'Rex...'

'No, listen - I've called Colin. I've called another agent...'

'Rex - I've just been with Sir Percy, and we have a grand plan. You have no idea -'

Rex gasped, just like she had gasped. 'Sir Percy!'

'Yes - I have been at the Crowne Plaza for two hours, hatching a plan to get us all out of this mess.'

His laugh on the line was music, real music.

'Oh, Rex!'

'My darling - stay up. I'm on the way.'

If that night was one to remember, then what about the following evening? Dianne was collecting memorable evenings, and could hardly believe she could be so happy when her reputation was in the gutter. But the plan would work, and with the astounding incentive of Sir Percy, who had hatched the whole deal, it was something to stun even Colin Palin, whom Rex thought was unflappable.

His face was a sight to behold when he was told, by none other than the great conductor, what they wanted to do. He smiled a knowing smile, and nodded. 'Yes - of course you have my approval. I would never have guessed you would come up with something like this.' He nodded approval again, and acknowledgement that Sir Percy had been in the entertainment industry so long he knew his way around the public and public opinion. 'Smash one headline with another, eh?'

'That's exactly it,' agreed the old man. 'From being derided to being lauded is how you want to go when you are a star,' he said, looking at Dianne.

'A star!'

'Indeed - the public will love what we are about to do, and will forget your so-called sleazy past in the twinkling of an eye, Miss Toliver. We will hold a charity concert: myself, you, Paolo Danchieri the tenor, Carluccia Tremani the soprano... and the roof will come right off the house!' He looked at all the faces around him, then continued. 'All proceeds - and I mean all, since the venue will host us for nothing when I tell them they have to safeguard the future and livelihood of themselves as well as this supreme line-up - will go to four major charities, and the news will shift from negative to positive before you know it.'

And that very night, one Dianne would never forget, Rex bore her to her bed on joyful arms, going through what they had planned with the other men that evening, optimistic, happy and full of a kind of celebratory love that spilled over onto Dianne's own spirits. It was the night she had waited for all her life: a night she was made love to lovingly, often and with moving sensuality.

Rex made her his own, and captivated her heart as well as her body. Inside her, he was massive and demanding, smooth and slippery. He kissed her lips, neck and shoulders, nuzzled her breasts and left a trail of ticklish kisses down her arms. He moved, thrusting forcefully into her again and again, panting his passion and saying words she hardly understood.

'What?'

'Marry me,' he said breathlessly. 'I want this... always, with you. Only you. Marry me, Dianne.'

Although it was a far cry from being asked by a man on bended knee, it was romantic and sensual enough for Dianne to be transported by the moment. She moved too, meeting his thrusts and riding high towards her climax. 'Yes, Rex. Yes.' It was a simple acceptance of a complex nature, but she knew everything would be all right.

In her mind, the words of Sir Percy were still vivid. '... the news will turn from negative to positive before you know it.'

And so it was. Publicity and promotion was almost automatic: overnight, newspapers and magazines were touting the concert as the most astounding ever. Sir Percy's name and those of the singers made sure Dianne's was feted just as widely. Tickets were sold out on the second afternoon after box offices opened.

'I can't believe it,' Dianne said, her eyes scanning yet another newspaper bearing a photo of her with Sir Percy. 'This one says I am one of the only pianists in the world Sir Percy is likely to conduct again.'

'And this one has you as the most generous of artists! See? Sir Percy was right - he has turned the tide.'

'See this headline - Music not her only talent. Philanthropic pianist wins the day.'

The concert was truly one of the most exciting of Dianne's life: well over two million dollars were collected and meted out to relevant charities, and there was not one news channel, newspaper or radio station that did not feature the event as one of the foremost musical nights of the decade. Some of the most popular pieces of music were played, and the audience was wowed. A recording of the evening was sold to a television network, and the rest was the making of history.

Rex held Dianne in his arms as, breathless, she came off the stage after a third encore. 'There you are Dianne - you are their darling. They cannot get enough of you.'

Colin Palin was there too. He was speaking into his mobile to New York, and a thumbs-up sign meant their next engagement was not so far away. 'I've never heard an impresario so eager,' he said, his left eyebrow up, a sure sign of dollars on the horizon.

Sir Percy was breathless when he entered the wings too. Dianne moved to embrace him, and he gave all in affection and esteem. 'We could not stand to lose one such as yourself,' he explained. 'The whole music world stood to lose if you gave up playing just because of a few silly headlines.'

'I am so grateful, so thankful. You lent your name to my cause,' she said.

'Because it was a serious cause,' he admitted. 'Talent like yours should not be wasted.'

Dianne and Rex's wedding day was attended by such a glorious host of famous music names that once again, the newspapers had a field day.

'There should have been a red carpet,' someone said. 'This is like the academy awards. Simply everyone is here.'

Cameras flashed, reporters shouted, digital cameras filmed every single second of proceedings.

'Are we never to have a private moment?' laughed Rex, whose usual quiet character was slightly unnerved by the celebrity of his guests and the crowds of perfect strangers lining the streets to the church and then onto the reception.

Of course the private moments were to come, but not before Athena went into labor only seconds after the best man's speech.

'See that?' laughed Rex after his sister and her husband were seen safely off to hospital. 'You will have a niece before you know it. Welcome, Auntie Dianne!'

Everyone was in the best of spirits, and the day was truly memorable. Dianne could not still her beating heart for a moment. Her dreams were all coming true, and the man by her side was a reason why all this could happen to her.

'Oh, Rex,' she sighed, when it was all nearly over and she dropped in a heap of champagne silk into a chair. 'I don't think I could stand for another minute.'

'But you are going to have to,' he smiled. Pushing the door shut behind him, they were at last alone in a suite at the Elmhurst, from where they were to fly in the morning to their waiting yacht in the Bahamas. 'I want to take you in my arms, dressed like that, and hold you for one more time.'

They kissed, but the gown did not stay on Dianne for very much longer. With adoring hands, Rex started to take handfuls of champagne silk and part the fabric, opening buttons and pulling a long long zip until she stood there in a corset and suspenders, creamy white stockings making her legs seem longer than ever.

The strapless corset was basque-like, holding her breasts in a loving clasp that was all too accessible to Rex's mouth. He freed her nipples and, after stepping back to take a glimpse, took her in his arms once more, liberating her from every stitch of encumbrance. 'I want you naked,' he said. 'Naked and...'

'Free?'

'You're not free,' he joked. 'You're mine - all mine.'

They tumbled on the enormous bed and celebrated by touch, taste and sensation everything they felt about each other.

Dianne looked at the ring finger on her left hand. Three square-cut diamonds sparkled in the afternoon sun. It was the most beautiful ring in the world, and it was on her finger. The boat lurched slightly and she steadied herself against the stern rail. It was going to be a magnificent holiday: a good break before she went back to the exhausting touring routine they had devised some weeks back with Colin.

She was to play at the Met in New York - and then the world. It was exciting, and a new sensation, but it was what she wanted.

'Happy?' Rex was behind her.

She turned, to see his hands were behind his back. 'Yes - I don't think I could be happier.'

The previous night, they had enjoyed making love for such a long time it was as if it was the first time for both of them. Well - perhaps such lovemaking was not possible for first-timers, she thought in hindsight. She was pleasured beyond belief, and Rex got his just enjoyment, such as he probably could not describe in words. They had joined their bodies, and spent inordinate time rousing each other until their flesh sang with ecstasy. It was skin against skin, mouths, fingers... they could not get enough nor give enough, and it took all night. Still, the morning found them once more making an explosive union, with the feeling they had erased all boundaries between them.

Dianne's body thrummed with excitement, even when she was exhausted and replete. She had a good capacity for carnal pleasure, but this was beyond her expectation. Rex took her to heights she did not know she could reach.

'I thought I had exhausted all possibilities,' she smiled, whispering softly into his ear.

'No, my darling. And there is even more to come.' He took her left nipple into his mouth and continued, four of his fingers already embedded in the soft secret place that was now entirely his. There was no time or reason for more words. Only their sighs filled the room: and then their cries of arousal.

Now, on the boat, already on their way to Port Lucaya resort, with the sun behind him, Rex blinked at her, his hands still behind his back.

'I have something for you, wife of mine,' he said.

'What - isn't this enough?' Dianne held out her hand and moved her fingers so the diamonds sparkled in the sun.

Rex shook his head. 'There is something we have to do. Something to erase old events and institute others.'

What did he mean? Dianne saw he was holding a long gray velvet box, which bore the stamp of one of the most expensive jewelers in the world.

'My goodness, Rex - what have you done?'

He put the gray box down, then proceeded to push down the straps of her bathing costume. 'There's no one here but us. The sea is calm. The boat can sail herself for a while.' He continued to roll down the stretch fabric until Dianne's body was laid bare to the sun.

Rex looked at her golden skin, the way her hair tumbled over her shoulders. 'You are the most beautiful woman in the world. And I love you.'

There were no words Dianne could say.

'Will you do anything for me?'

'Yes.'

'Take this.'

Dianne held out her hand and into it, to her enormous surprise, Rex slipped a long gold chain that held among its links a black pearl pendant.

'But...'

'Will you do anything for me?' he repeated.

'Yes,' Dianne said. Still, she was not sure what he wanted her to do.

'Take that pendant, and throw it into the sea. You are done with it.'

Without asking why or wherefore, without a moment's hesitation, Dianne took the jewel and its chain and flung it as far into the waves as she had power to do so. There was hardly a sign of its going. The black pearl pendant was no more.

Turning, Dianne was suddenly extremely conscious of her nudity, but Rex was looking at her so lovingly any doubt was immediately erased.

'Now, my darling - now we shall open this box together.'

Dianne nodded, but she let him do the opening. She knew it held some sort of jewel, but nothing prepared her for what she saw. On a beautifully wrought chain of platinum links tooled to represent leaves, hung the most gorgeous emerald she had ever seen. Cut in the shape of a teardrop, it glittered greenly in the sea air.

Rex clasped it around her neck and the single spectacular stone hung precisely between her breasts.

Dianne was speechless.

'Beautiful - simply beautiful. I want you to wear this always, but especially on its own, like this with nothing to mar your beauty.'

'Oh, of course I will,' she said. 'Yes, Rex - forever.'

'Forever.'

THE END!