When Wheeler awoke, it was with a smile on his face. A stupid, inane, almost ridiculous grin, which spread from cheek to cheek, so wide and genuine his face nearly hurt with it. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, swinging out of bed with a lightness to his step he hadn't felt for days.

No, not days. Years.

He moved to his bathroom, splashing some water on his face and almost laughing at himself in the mirror. In nine years of sexual activity, he'd never before done that with a woman. Why would he? If a woman was naked and willing in his presence, his hands were inevitably going to be on her. It was what came naturally to him. To stop at watching, to restrain himself to not touching, had never even crossed his mind. Sex had always followed something of a pattern for Wheeler, one that served him well and one he'd never needed to doubt. He kissed, he fondled, and then he fucked. It was easy, an infinitely more pleasurable version of rinse, lather and repeat.

And repeat he did, often and with vigour.

But last night? Last night he'd had an intensely pleasurable sexual experience, and one in which his hands had only been on himself. One in which he'd been invited to share but not partake. One in which he'd been separated from his partner by not just panes of glass but also by two walls. It was, when he considered it, almost unbelievable. It was certainly ridiculous. But unbelievable and ridiculous or not, he'd enjoyed every minute, and couldn't believe that he'd never tried it before.

Linka had surprised him, he realised. She'd surprised him, and Wheeler, who considered himself worldly and experienced, had thought himself incapable of such a feeling. When he'd considered the arrangement she'd suggested between them, Wheeler had assumed he would be the one doing the teaching, and Linka the learning. That she might teach him a trick or two had never occurred to him. But now that it had, the thought sat in his mind intriguingly, a tantalising concept he was more than ready to explore further.

He threw on some clothes before opening his curtain, half hoping to find Linka still in bed, or at least in her room. But she was already gone, her bed tidily made, her room neat as a pin, the window left open to let in the soft island breeze. Momentarily, Wheeler frowned, before shrugging and giving another wide smile. He would find her at breakfast and talk to her then. They could iron out the fine print of their arrangement, and then, later... Wheeler grinned. Never before had the word 'later' filled him with such a rush of desire.

But when Wheeler entered the common room, Linka was nowhere to be seen. Kwame and Ma-Ti were there, cooking breakfast, and Ma-Ti slid Wheeler a cup of coffee, doing his best to hide a shudder when Wheeler immediately dumped three sugars into the black liquid.

'Where's Lin?' Wheeler asked, trying to hide his disappointment. 'Where's Gi?'

'They have gone to pick up Linka's friend,' Ma-Ti replied smoothly. 'The one from her village. He arrives this morning.'

Briefly, Wheeler scowled into his coffee. 'Oh, yeah, I forgot,' he muttered, and when he looked up, he noticed Ma-Ti looking at him curiously. 'What?' he snapped, and at the sharp tone to his voice he saw Kwame look up and exchange glances with Ma-Ti.

'I am only wondering how your weekend went, with Trish?' Ma-Ti replied, his face as serene as ever.

'It was fine,' Wheeler shrugged, sliding into a chair by the table and frowning once more.

Gregor, Wheeler thought angrily. In his excitement, he'd forgotten about him. Well, that was just great. Gregor's presence would no doubt make getting Linka alone today almost impossible. She would be excited to see her friend, excited to talk in Russian, excited to hear news from home and Wheeler... well, he would be left to sit in the corner, watching on while eaten up with jealousy, an outsider looking in. Scowling again, he took a mouthful of his drink, the hot coffee near enough burning his tongue so that he spluttered unattractively, swearing loudly.

'God dammit,' he swore again, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, two pairs of brown eyes were staring at him wordlessly, and Wheeler flushed.

'Wheeler—?'

'Hot coffee,' Wheeler explained, trying to sound nonchalant. 'If I've got any taste buds left after this it'll be a fuckin' miracle.'

He saw Kwame's face change. Kwame, brought up in a well to do part of Nairobi, disliked swearing and could never understand Wheeler's frequent use of it.

'You speak Swahili as well as English?' Wheeler had once asked him, back in the early days when they were all still getting to know one another, and Kwame had nodded. 'Well, swearing is my second language,' Wheeler tried to explain. 'It was all my Pop spoke in sometimes,' he'd given a bitter laugh. 'I'm fluent in the language of asshole.'

Now, Wheeler ran a tired hand over his face. 'Sorry,' he muttered. 'Woke up on the wrong side of the bed is all.'

At these words, Kwame's face flooded with sudden understanding. 'Ah yes, you must be tired. You arrived late last night.'

Wheeler saw guilt flash across Ma-Ti's face. 'I am sorry we were not there to greet you last night, Wheeler.'

'Nah, it was late,' Wheeler shrugged. 'I wasn't expectin' anyone to wait up for me.'

'Linka tried,' Kwame said suddenly, turning back to the stove. 'She waited up as long as she was able to, but, just before you were due to land, she decided to go to bed. Well, we had a long weekend, probably not as...' Kwame paused, '... energetic as yours, but still —'

'Wait,' Wheeler sat up. 'You mean Linka was still up just before I got back?'

Something about Kwame's words, spoken so off-handedly, caught Wheeler's attention and he stared at Kwame intently. Kwame hardly blinked though, looking back at Wheeler with honest eyes.

'Yes. She and I stayed up together, going over the speech I am to give for the Green Planet convention in Paris next month. But just as you were coming in to land she suddenly grew tired, and left very quickly.'

A thought, astounding in it's near ridiculousness and just as unpalatable, abruptly struck Wheeler and his mouth gaped open. 'She played me,' he whispered, almost frozen with shock. 'She played me.'

'What did you say?' Ma-Ti's voice, clear and curious, cut through Wheeler's momentary quiet and he startled, looking back to Ma-Ti and shaking his head.

'Nothin',' he replied, draining his coffee. His mouth was unaccountably dry; his throat tight. 'Nothin' worth repeatin', that is.'

Ma-Ti nodded, before sliding the coffee pot to Wheeler, who filled his mug to the brim. He dumped another three sugars into his drink, so lost in thought that he did not see Ma-Ti grimace.

'Wheeler—'

'You know somethin'?' Wheeler suddenly exploded, banging a fist on the table so hard the crockery rattled, coffee spilling in all directions. 'I don't understand women. I don't get 'em. Even the ones you think you know... they're just as... as... as duplicitous as the next one,' Wheeler's brow furrowed and his mouth turned into a frown. 'I'll never understand 'em.'

Scowling at his coffee, Wheeler didn't see as yet another look passed between Kwame and Ma-Ti. With a sigh, Kwame turned off the stove and wiped his hands on his apron, before sitting at the table across from Wheeler, his gaze at once soft and serious.

'Did something happen this weekend? With Trish?' he asked kindly, and Wheeler exhaled, long and low.

'Nah,' he said, stroking the stubble on his chin. 'Trish is... well, just the same as always.'

'So, nothing happened?' Ma-Ti queried him, resting a hand on his shoulder, and Wheeler shook his head.

'Nope,' Wheeler replied. 'I got there, took her out for dinner—'

'A date?' Kwame asked with one raise of an eyebrow. 'Oh, I did not think that you and Trish were...' Wheeler watched as discomfort flitted across Kwame's face. 'Well, I did not think that she was... that type of girl to you.'

Wheeler took a deep breath. 'I think she might be now,' he said, clearing his throat, which still felt too tight. 'She wants to get serious, and I always said when the time was right I would go along with it.' He paused. 'Maybe now the time is right. I'm running outta reasons not to commit to her.'

Next to him, he felt Ma-Ti stiffen, and Wheeler turned to him curiously.

'What?'

'Well, it is just...' Ma-Ti trailed off, clearly hesitant, and Wheeler nodded at him.

'Go on,' he said. 'You got somethin' to say? You should say it.'

Ma-Ti sighed again. 'It is just... well, it speaks volumes when you say have to 'go along' with something rather than want to do it, Wheeler. And you say you are running out of reasons not to commit to Trish? Well, that also means you have been searching for reasons not to commit to her. I do not like to say this, but I am not sure you truly want to walk this path with her, my friend.'

Silence fell over the room, and Ma-Ti looked down, obviously uncomfortable.

Wheeler nudged him gently. 'It's okay, kid,' he tried to sound jovial, even though his heart had sunk at Ma-Ti's words. He was right, Wheeler thought miserably. He gave Ma-Ti a pat on the back. 'This is why you wear the heart ring, you know? You're too good at this kinda thing.'

Abruptly, Wheeler stood, and Kwame looked at him in concern.

'Are you alright, Wheeler?'

'Yeah,' Wheeler shrugged. 'I'm gonna get the day started. Once Gi and Lin get back with Gregor,' he struggled to keep the bile from his voice, 'well, they'll be no good to anyone work-wise. They'll wanna spend all day fawnin' over him.'

'That is not fair,' Kwame said gently. 'Neither Gi nor Linka are work shy, Wheeler.'

Instantly, Wheeler felt guilty.

'You're right,' he agreed. 'I guess what I meant was, if I can take away some of Linka's workload, she'll have more time to spend with him.' Once again, his throat constricted at the thought. He cleared it awkwardly, before turning to Kwame. 'Any tasks of hers I can help with? You cleared me for today just in case Trish and I— well, I can work instead of Linka.'

Kwame gave him an odd look. 'That is very generous of you, Wheeler.'

But Wheeler shook his head. 'Nah, it's not. It's the right thing to do,' he swallowed hard. 'She's my best friend after all...isn't she?'

But even as the words crossed his lips, he heard how shallow they sounded, and he felt his throat tighten once more.

Kwame, watching him, nodded slowly. 'Linka was on maintenance today. You can take it up, if you really want to?'

Wheeler nodded. Maintenance was good, he decided. It would keep him busy at the hangar. Too busy to do more than get a quick glimpse of Gregor, at any rate.

He nodded again. 'Yeah. Maintenance is fine.'

Wheeler heard rather than saw Gregor's arrival. There was that tell-tale quiet thrum of an engine, followed by the geo-cruiser door opening, and Gi's laughter, high and merry, echoing around the hangar. Wheeler stood, brushing dirt from his jeans, resting an arm against his forehead as he blinked in the midday sun.

There was Gi, all smiles, her hair pinned prettily away from her face. She was gesturing in the distance, pointing out the details of the hangar. Next to her stood a man, almost as tall as Wheeler, fair-haired and disarmingly attractive.

Gregor. Wheeler did a double take as he took in the handsome man, who was dressed for warm weather in light slacks and a clean cotton shirt. Wheeler looked down at his own jeans, torn and filthy, and at his Planeteer shirt, sweat-stained and lying in a discarded heap to the side. It was a hot day and maintenance was a messy business, and he hadn't thought twice about stripping off in the midday heat. But now, seeing the clean-cut Gregor, who would no doubt appeal to the fastidiously tidy Linka's tastes, he was regretting his actions.

'Wheeler!' In the distance, Gi had spotted him, and she raised an arm in greeting, pulling Gregor with her towards him.

'Shit,' muttered Wheeler under his breath, but he plastered a smile on his face all the same, waving back and trying to look nonchalant.

'Wheeler, this is Gregor,' Gi said breezily. 'Linka's friend from home?'

'Sure, yeah, Gregor,' Wheeler said, extending a friendly hand towards him, although a strong dislike for the man suddenly washed over him. For up close, Gregor was even more handsome than Wheeler had originally thought. His skin was clear, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline, a welcoming smile on his face. His hair was a sandy blond, less golden than Linka's but still unmistakably European. He was tall and well-built and when he shook Wheeler's hand it was with a strong grip. It immediately let Wheeler know that Gregor was sure of himself and confident, and he felt a small knot of worry pull in his stomach.

'Hello, Wheeler,' Gregor said as he withdrew his hand. 'I have heard much about you, of course, from Lenka's letters.'

Wheeler frowned, wiping his hand on his jeans again. 'You mean Linka,' he said. 'Linka's letters.'

But at that Gregor shook his head, giving Wheeler a confused look. 'No, I meant Lenka. Who is Linka? I have never heard—'

'On imeyet v vidu menya, Grisha. Menya zdes' zovut Linka,' a calm voice suddenly intoned, and there Linka was, emerging from the geo-cruiser and smiling at Gregor pleasantly.

Wheeler watched as Gregor's face lit up at her presence, and his fingers involuntarily clenched around the wrench he was holding in his hand.

'Ty pozvolil im nazyvat' tebya Linka?' Gregor asked, clearly still confused.

Linka nodded, adjusting the strap of the dress she was wearing, drawing Wheeler's eyes towards the bare skin of her shoulder. A dress, he thought worriedly. Why was she wearing a dress?

Linka never wore dresses. She kicked around in shorts, overalls, and old t-shirts. She wore baseball caps and over large jackets. She never — never, ever — wore dresses, let alone skin tight, paisley blue dresses that clung to every curve like this one. Wheeler stared at her, half aroused, half horrified.

'Why's he callin' you Lenka?' he demanded, his voice abrupt and sharp, and Linka looked up, finally meeting his eyes.

'Because that is my name,' she replied simply.

'No, your name is Lena,' Wheeler said sharply. 'Shortened to Linka, but—'

'No,' Linka shook her head. 'It is Lenka. It has always been Lenka.'

Wheeler's mouth opened and closed several times as he digested this information. 'What do you mean, it's always been Lenka?' he asked her. 'We've been callin' you Linka since you got here, and not once have you ever corrected us. Not one of us,' he added. 'Isn't that right, Gi?' he turned to their colleague, who was chewing awkwardly on her lip, staring at the floor.

'Leave me out of this,' Gi said firmly. 'I wanted to tell you years ago but—'

'Tell me what?' Wheeler snapped. 'What did you wanna tell me?'

Linka sighed, turning to Gregor. 'Vy mozhete menya na minutku izvinit'? Mne prosto nuzhno pogovorit' s moim kollegoy zdes.' Wheeler watched as she then turned to Gi, 'Will you take Gregor to the common room, please? Make him some tea? I will be there shortly.'

Gi nodded, taking Gregor by the hand. 'Come on,' Wheeler heard her say as they walked away. 'You get a great view of the ocean from this way... we keep the landing bay at the top of the island because of the weather, but the view is fantastic and...'

When they were out of earshot, Wheeler snapped towards Linka.

'What the fuck?' he asked her, his words unduly harsh. 'What do you mean, your name has always been Lenka?'

'Because it is,' Linka replied, a tired note to her voice. 'Lena is most always turned into Lenka.'

'Then why did you call yourself Linka to us? To me?' Wheeler spluttered.

'Well, actually,' Linka suddenly flushed, her cheeks turning pink. 'I did not.'

'You did,' Wheeler argued. 'You called yourself Linka, and—'

'Yankee,' Linka suddenly reached over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. 'I called myself Lenka. You mispronounced it, and I did not...' she paused, looking at him softly. 'I did not have either the courage, or the heart, to correct you.'

Wheeler stared at her, completely aghast. 'I've been callin' you by the wrong name,' he said slowly. 'All these years, all this time... I've been callin' you by the wrong name.'

'It does not matter,' Linka told him, tracing her fingers down from his shoulder to his hand. 'It has never mattered to me.'

'It matters to me. Why didn't you tell me?' Wheeler asked her, catching her fingers within his own. 'You should have told me.'

'Yes,' Linka agreed. 'Gi said as much, and Kwame and Ma-Ti too, but it just seemed—'

Wheeler stepped away from her, pulling his hand from hers and running it through his hair. 'The wrong name,' he said again, almost mournful. 'The wrong fuckin' name.'

Linka stepped towards him, and this time, she laid her hand against his cheek.

'You call me the right names,' she told him gently. 'Just as you are Yankee to me, I am Babe, or Lin, or Linka to you. I like them,' she added fervently. Wheeler looked down to her, suddenly aware that she was standing incredibly close to him, and that he was half naked, while she was in that dress, with one strap falling down around her shoulder. Gently, he eased it back up, tracing her collar bone as he did so.

'We gonna talk about last night?' he asked suddenly, and the change in conversation seemed to surprise Linka, who blinked up at him.

'Do we need to?' she asked. 'It just happened... it was—'

'It didn't 'just happen'. You knew what you were doin',' Wheeler interrupted her, shaking his head. He didn't step away from her though, keeping his hand on her shoulder, sweeping up and over her soft skin. He wasn't going to stop unless she asked him to, he decided. He liked the way his hand looked against her, liked the way her skin seemed to shiver — even in this heat — as he danced his fingers across her body. 'You knew exactly what you were doin', Babe.'

She chewed on her lip, but said nothing. There was no denial. No argument.

Abruptly, Wheeler dropped his wrench, the metal instrument making a loud noise as it hit the floor. Linka didn't have time to flinch, as Wheeler used both of his hands to hoist her suddenly into the air, before pushing her against the corrugated iron wall of the hangar. His hands rested on the backs of her thighs, squeezing gently, while he pushed himself against her, lust flooding through him. He brought his forehead to hers, enjoying the sensation of hearing her pant slightly beneath him.

'I like your dress,' he told her silkily. He narrowed the gap between them, pressing against her harder. He caught Linka's eye, and she held his gaze, unwavering, but not unaffected.

'Wheeler, you are... you are...' she seemed to struggle for the right word, and Wheeler squeezed her thighs again, watching with satisfaction as she shivered once more. 'You are filthy,' Linka seemed to settle on, but she made no effort to extricate herself from his arms. 'You will make me all dirty.'

He squeezed the backs of her thighs again, before drawing his hands further up, so that his fingers just skimmed the lace of her underwear. She shuddered against him, and he gave a victorious smile.

'I think you wanna get filthy, Babe,' he whispered confidently. 'You were playin' a game with me last night, weren't you?' he fingered the lace of her underwear again. 'Feedin' time at the zoo, it's called. A game where you throw crumbs in the direction of a hungry beast.'

'You are not a beast,' Linka whispered back, but she still held his gaze, and Wheeler liked that, liked how she didn't falter in his arms. She was feisty, his girl.

'You want me to be one,' he replied smoothly. Deftly, he drew both hands up, until they were trapped under the snug confines of her dress and squeezing her buttocks gently. He nudged her legs open, grinding against her and letting her feel how hard he was. 'You wanna play feedin' time at the zoo? That's fine by me,' he said. Against him, Linka was growing breathless, and Wheeler felt a surge of desire run through him, one that almost overran his last grip on common sense. Regretfully, he peeled away from her.

If he didn't, he was fairly certain he would fuck her then and there on the hangar floor.

Linka looked up at him with wide green eyes, and Wheeler licked his lips.

'What happens now?' Linka asked him softly.

'You gotta go and play hostess with Gregor,' Wheeler replied flippantly, turning away from her.

Behind him, he heard Linka clear her throat.

'I mean with us... how does feeding time at the zoo end?'

He picked up his wrench, turning back to look at her once more.

'Keep throwing crumbs, or you risk your fingers being bitten off,' he shrugged.

'And if I do not? Throw crumbs, that is?'

He shrugged again. 'Starve the beast and he's likely to swallow you whole.'

Linka stared at him. 'That sounds like a... how do you phrase it? A no win situation?'

At that, he grinned at her. 'Feedin' time at the zoo ain't about winnin', Babe,' he looked her up and down, long and hungrily. 'It's about satisfyin'.'