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I'd spent the morning with Terry from the local embassy. Terry was head of security and fascinated with my ability to wrap him around my little finger and leave him on the mat, tied in a pretzel. "Serina? Show me how . . ." was the way most conversations with Terry started. He had become a good friend and sometimes joined me on my morning swim.

This morning we just played around in the surf rather than serious swimming. I had noticed a man, who looked familiar to me. A stunning woman was massaging some sunscreen onto his back. Finally, I recognized Michelle from the embassy. I hadn't seen her for several weeks. There was something different about her, a strange radiance and a self-please, self-confident air about her. Also, she looked entirely different than when dressed in her Gi. I could get a complex if I had to stay around her very long. From the outraged stares some women were giving their men, most of who were staring, I was not the only one to think so.

I thought the young man was lucky to get her, because from what I could see he was a 'hunk.' I kept finding excuses to stay near, and I think Terry was starting to catch on. I had walked past several times while he was rubbing sunscreen on her. However, he seemed too preoccupied to notice me. Not that I could blame him, the jerk, after all, Michelle was indeed something.

Frustrated, I swam for a while with Terry, then came back to check on him. He noticed me, just as I emerged from the water; his reaction was everything I could have wished for…. I bathed in his gaze as I slowly walked toward him. I was right—he was beautiful—I don't know why, but I had to know him better. As I walked toward him, his eyes traveled up my body—drinking in every curve, I reveled in the touch of his gaze. I felt his gaze lingering on my face when suddenly his eyes changed—to a look of recognition? I locked eyes with him and walked over and stood square in front of him, arching an eyebrow in question.

"Pardon me," he said, his eyes dropping, "I had thought you were someone that I once knew."

"Serina," Terry said, "let me introduce you to Lawrence Young, the embassy's new Senior Secretary. Mr. Young, this is Lieutenant T'gerr of the Imperial Marines."

I felt rather than saw the conflict in him—then he smiled at me, "My friends call me Larry."

I smiled back, "Mine, call me Serina. I have the strangest feeling that I've met you before. You said that you thought you knew me?"

"Well sort of, several years ago I was on the beach in the southern section of Los Angeles, on Terra, and I saw a young lady who could have been your twin . . . including your bikini."

I thought back, and suddenly I pulled the picture out of my photographic memory, "Yes! I do remember you. I remember—because I saw you snorkeling, the time you lost your snorkel—and surfaced, blowing like a whale breaching! Oh! By the way, this is the same swimsuit!" I laughed, thinking of how hard I'd tried to get his attention that day on the beach so long ago. He had been preoccupied with a titanic inner struggle then, and I had felt that he had never really seen me, but he had, and he had remembered me after all these years.

Larry blushed and said, "That was me, all right."

I dropped to the sand, wondering how I could get rid of Terry and how I could compete with Michelle. I said to Larry, (No. Lance, he felt like a Lance to me . . . My Lance.) "Looks like we must have been neighbors." I turned to look at Terry, "Terry, I'll see you tonight, at class, won't I?" I said, hoping he would take the hint.

"Just as always—I need to go back to the embassy for a bit, so I'll be leaving now if that's OK with you?"

"No problem," I replied. Dismissing Terry with a wave of my hand, I tried to think of some way to get rid of Michelle too, when Michelle suddenly said, "I'll join you, I've been away too long already. Jack and I will be at class tonight also, Serina."

"Good, I'll see you all there," I said, dismissing them from my mind. "Would you like to come, Larry?" I asked— my heart in my throat. We have beginner's classes if you prefer?"

"What kind of classes are they?"

"Exercise classes, but we also teach an ancient form of self-defense called 'Judo' as a way to avoid the boredom of most other exercise forms. It's not hard. Won't you come? I'd very much like to see you again."

"Who could resist such a beautiful woman?" He said, smiling. I melted under his gaze. "I'll be there, in fact, I have the whole day off, and it appears that I've lost my guide, she got sick."

I arched my eyebrow—wondering just what he meant. I hadn't noticed anything wrong with Michelle. If anything, she looked better than at any time I had seen her before.

" . . . Lovesick," he clarified, answering my unasked question.

"Oh!" As a revelation unfolded in my mind, it was Jack, her shadow that had Michelle looking so radiant. I had a chance after all! Or did I? I had to keep the Duke happy, but not satisfied, until this affair with the Emperor was over, as Lady De Winter had plenty of spies here. However, this morning was mine. I had a flash of insight. Yes, I could keep seeing Lance and not rock the boat with the Duke, "How about a swim?" I asked. Not waiting for an answer I rushed on, "I know this grotto that is fantastic."

"Sure," Larry accepted.

"Stay here," I said, "I'll go get us a couple of gill packs, and tell the boss where I am."

I ran into a nearby courtesy shack and logged on to the resorts E-mail system. I dictated a brief message to the Duke, telling him that I had contacted an Imperial Senior Secretary that I thought could help the cause, and to not expect me tonight. Running back to my Lance, I paused to snag two gills. It was a beautiful day, and the ocean had its usual fascination for me. All I remember was Lance—how smoothly he moved through the water almost as if he had been born here. He was an enigma though. Once when I cuddled in close with him, to watch a small shrimp cleaning a fish, there was almost an electrical current between us as my skin touched his. I felt his desire for me. My desire swelled to match his . . . then just as if a switch was thrown, he was gone, no desire, no electricity—he had not moved a muscle, but my Lance was kilometers away from me.