She turned the hot tap off in the steamy shower and it squeaked a little, as she rotated it. She leant forward and towel dried her hair, and then wrapped the bath sheet around her. She marvelled at how clean and fresh smelling the towel was, by comparison to the smokiness of the air in the small flat. Padding out of the bathroom, she headed to the kitchen. It was late in the evening. She was staying over at his place, and they both had a couple of rest days due, unless they were called in. She hoped that wouldn't happen. They didn't have any plans, but she really needed a chance to unwind. Work had been unbelievable lately and she wanted to relax. She saw him, at the sink trying to bring some order to the chaos of his tiny kitchenette. Even on his salary and years in the job, this was what he could afford in the centre of Paris. Her place was little bigger, even though she'd put in the small amount of money she had received after the death of her parents. She had no siblings and didn't keep in contact with other family members. Her work hours made it difficult to, and she wasn't really inclined to, anyway. Despite it being bigger, she didn't like staying there on her own, her empty home just made her feel alone, so she had invited herself to his apartment.

They were just friends, but they had worked together for many years now, and they were very close. He was loyal, and she knew she could always count on his support at work. She was feeling lonely, and she was fond of him, she told herself as she neared him. He might turn her down, she considered. Perhaps not, she countered in her own mind: she knew he liked her. Felt something for her even. Sometimes his behaviour had made her consider that. And she was beginning to wonder if she had the beginning of feelings for him. She could see his broad back and thick hair. She liked the waves in it. She liked his eyes, hazel- green-ish and intelligent and always filled with a smile, a humorous comment. Mostly directed at her.

She reached her hands around his waist, as he leaned over the sink, soap suds in the tub. He turned to face her, and as he took in her state of undress, his eyes widened. The towel was below her arms, but set low, revealing cleavage. His eyes looked at hers, trying to read her thoughts, that look she had seen on his face dozens of times over the years, superficially a tough poker face, but his thoughts running underneath at a hundred miles an hour. He was trying to work out what she wanted.

Hesitantly, his still soapy hands reached, to make contact with her arms, running up and down, slowly, almost caressingly, and sending shivers of desire across her body, she had to admit to herself. She knew that he had felt the response of her body to his touch. He looked at her again then, his eyes glittering with desire, she thought. His hands moved to touch her back, her shoulders, and then travelled through her hair, gently combing the wet strands. They moved around to the front and stroked her throat and necklace, incredibly gently for a man who spent his days threatening people with his fists. He paused then, unsure, fingers hooked in the material at the fold. She couldn't wait any longer for him, and she opened the front of her towel to reveal her breasts. His breathing hitched audibly.

"You're beautiful," he breathed, staring at them in awe.

His fingers moved to cup them, caress them, and then his lips moved to suck them. She inhaled sharply with pleasure, and she could feel him smile on her skin. He roughly pulled the towel away from her, and it dropped to the floor. She was naked underneath. He stepped back then to look at her, and she felt her desire build, seeing the look of longing on his face. He pulled his own t-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Her hands reached for his chest then, moving over the warm skin. His hands reached to touch her again, and they moved over her stomach and around to her bottom, carefully exploring. He stepped closer and kissed her on the lips, momentarily, moistly, and it was the first kiss they had shared. One more kiss, so short, and he was on his knees, his tongue moving over her pubic hair and along her clitoris. She gasped, and gave herself to his skill. As she came, she buried her hands in his hair and called his name. He stood and took her hand, leaning her to the bed a short distance away.

Removing his remaining clothing, he kissed her fervently and then thrust into her, moist and inviting, and she welcomed him in with shuddering sighs of pleasure. It was rapid and swift, and they lay together afterwards, out of breath, chests heaving, looking at each other with huge smiles. She had guessed it would be perfect between them both in bed, as they were so in tune with each other's needs already, and she had guessed right.

"Laure…" he began, chest still moving up and down, and unable to form a sentence coherently.

She knew they would need to talk, but she stopped him there, with a finger on his lip. She leaned up to kiss him, and then said, "Let's sleep now, and we'll talk in the morning."

She could feel him nod, and he pulled the covers over them both. He had planned to take the sofa, as he usually did when she stayed, but now there was no need. She rested her head on his solid chest and her body naturally curled into his. She fell asleep without difficulty that night, which was unusual in itself, and had a good night's sleep. His touch had been therapeutic, and she found the sensation of his body touching her, the sound of his breathing, was both reassuring and comforting.

In the morning she was up first, making the coffee, wearing his discarded t-shirt. As he got up, slipping his boxers on and coming to find her, he reached to sip coffee from the cup she was holding. He lifted the t-shirt, to see if she was wearing anything else. He was already smiling, but he broke into a wide grin when he found nothing else. Taking the cup from her, and placing it to one side, he pulled the t-shirt over her head and kissed her. She was surprised how much she enjoyed that too, his lips were soft, and his tongue was firm but gentle. His hands roamed over her, with no uncertainty or embarrassment, and she could feel his erection grow in his shorts. Pulling them off in one fluid movement, he threw them out of the way. He sat her on the empty kitchen worktop, clear of debris at least for now, and eased into her, and she gulped with heightened sensation. Touching her breasts, tugging her bottom so he could go deeper, he took his time, and she kissed him as he came. She kissed him for a long time afterwards and she found that she didn't want to stop.

She couldn't remember the last time she had enjoyed sex so much, it just seemed so wholesome and pleasurable with them, like it should with a good lover, a good friend. She got dressed as he had a shower, and borrowed a t-shirt from him, despite having brought a change of clothes to wear. They strolled hand in hand to the local café for breakfast and a newspaper. Laure realised, as she tore a chunk from her croissant, that she felt peaceful and relaxed, and had actually forgotten to bring her work phone with her.

"So…" she reminded him, as he leant back, watching her. "You wanted to talk?"

"You surprised me," he stated. "I didn't know it was something you wanted. With me." he added.

"Why not you?" she challenged. "You're handsome. You're intelligent. I like you."

He smiled at that. A genuine smile. She realised it lit up his face and she liked that. She took his hand.

"Thank you," he said simply.

They walked along the river later and talked and laughed. They had a glass of wine and ate dinner and talked and walked some more. They reached his place and fell into bed together, giggling and at ease. She could hardly believe the change in less than a day. She slept well again, holding him and feeling loved.

They spent the next day together again, doing simple things like cleaning and chores. She frequently detested jobs like this, but they laughed and chatted their way through all of them. That evening, they went to her place so she could take a bath. His place only had a small shower. He sat on the side of the bath and rubbed her back. She marvelled at their easy intimacy, and how quickly they were able to fall into it. After a meal locally, neither of them inclined to cook despite their time off, they slept in her bed that night, and she appreciated his soothing presence once more. His comforting authority made her feel happier at her place than she'd been in a long time.

The next day they were due back at work. He tried to style her hair before they left, and she smiled as his attempts were reasonably unsuccessful. She quickly twisted it up as she commonly wore it, and a look of incredulity spread across his face. As they descended the stairs to her parked car, she slipped her hand into his back jeans pocket. It just felt so natural.

"I'd like to see you again," she ventured as she unlocked the car.

He looked at her, intensely. "You will see me in the office."

"That's not what I meant. I've enjoyed this. I want to see you."

His smile was answer enough for her. She had experienced a moment of panic as she thought all he wanted was a one-off thing. He leant over to kiss her, reassuring her of what he'd meant. She kissed him back enthusiastically. She couldn't believe how much she wanted to keep doing that. She looked around the car, weighing up the options. He realised what she was doing, and a shy smile flitted across his face.

"Another time?" she asked, indicating the back seat of the car. He smiled again.

In the office, no one noticed them arriving together. Things were difficult, as they went out of their way not to touch each other, but it made them feel awkward, and then they kept bumping into each other and apologising. At lunchtime, Laure beckoned to him to come into the women's toilets to speak.

"This is crazy. All I want to do is touch you, but as soon as I do, I feel guilty."

"Look, I don't care who knows," he said firmly. "Let's just be ourselves. We haven't done anything wrong." He kissed her.

Later on, he had paperwork that he was due to complete. As he sat at his desk, on his computer, his expression grim as he started on the long statement, he saw her come into the room and then get on her knees. She crawled under his desk and then he could feel the zip of his jeans being undone. He smiled to himself as she gently sucked him. Herville chose that very moment to come into the room, and he froze, but she continued the movements, and he was forced to speak to Herville about a current case as matters progressed under the desk. Thankfully Herville left, and Gilou relaxed enough to climax and then began laughing, big belly laughs that went on for some time.

Laure, looking completely innocent, stood up and muttered, "found it!" holding up a small item and left the room, also grinning to herself and licking her lips.

He shook his head in disbelief at her audacity. They left work together, heading to his place. They picked up some food on the way there, walking hand in hand around the shop and discussing their day. As they both spoke of Herville's entrance during a crucial time, they both began giggling and the giggles had barely subsided by the time they reached home.

Despite the small size, his kitchen was functional, and they cooked an easy meal of steak frites with salad. Later they made love leisurely and tenderly, and she enjoyed the varied experiences with him. As she lay in the bed afterwards, contemplating sleep, she realised she had never slept with someone who had mattered so much to her before. But then again, she had known him for a long while; they had been friends, work colleagues, and she was his boss. She wondered if it would get complicated with them, if things didn't work out. She hoped it did work out. She didn't know why she was thinking like this. She knew they communicated well already, she said how she felt, openly voiced her frustrations and he was never shy of contradicting her if he felt he should. But he also had backed her, many times. And she had helped him, with mistakes he had made, getting off the drugs, away from the prostitutes. Out of that life. He had helped her when she shot Ronaldo. She knew he drank heavily, smoked too much. But he worked hard and was good at what he did. He didn't play the political game as well as she did, but it didn't matter, she was there for that. It was easier for him, as a man, in some ways. She had to fight for everything, to prove herself time and time again, but she knew she could. It was just tiring.

"Will things stay this good?" she asked him, aware that he could already be asleep.

"They will," he replied sleepily.

She nodded, despite the darkness, in agreement. He got her, she knew that, more than anyone else. He knew she couldn't contemplate another job, because he couldn't either. Their lives were tied up in their job. It was their identity, everything they'd known since they were young. He shared her energy and commitment to get the job done at any cost.

"We should tell Tintin," she added.

"Yup, okay," he agreed. "Now, get some sleep, will you?"

In the morning, they headed into work early, both aware there was still lots to be done. As they parked the car, they shared a long kiss which carried an open invitation for that evening, back in bed. She could barely prise herself away. Since when had such a simple thing caused her to lose control? She touched her lips, as Gilou got out of the car and climbed the stairs to the door. They still tingled where they had touched his. She pinched herself to try and bring herself back to the now, and not dwell on the promise of the evening.

In the office, Gilou invited Tintin out to a bar after work, and after a moment's hesitation, he agreed.

"Laure will be there too, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," agreed Tintin.

That day there were busy with other things, in and out of the office separately, barely seeing each other. At the end of the day, she was late back into the office, and she saw a text saying they had already left for the bar. Checking the mirror, reapplying lipstick and trying to tame her hair, she headed there in her own car. The place wasn't far, but was a bar the team didn't often frequent. She knew that Gilou had chosen it because it would be quieter and they were unlikely to bump into any other work colleagues. Laure joined them at their table, bringing fresh beer for them and one for herself. They might move onto soft drinks after that.

They sat together, beers on the table, like they had many times in the past.

"You know we love you Tintin," started Laure. "And we both value and respect you as a colleague and friend."

Tintin looked at her, then Gilou, back and forth between their faces, his expression quizzical. This wasn't how most conversations with his boss began, even in the bar.

"And we wanted to tell you, not have you find out by finding us snogging in the toilets or something…" she faded out, as Tintin's eyebrows furrowed, and it was clear he didn't know where this was going.

"Snogging?" he repeated, not understanding.

"We've started seeing each other," Gilou interjected, cutting to the chase.

"Not long Tintin, just a few days, but we wanted to tell you ourselves, was what I was trying to say." She looked at Gilou then, and he lifted his hand to put it on her shoulder, to reassure her, rubbing her arm slowly. She shivered, but not with the cold.

"But you two are always arguing," protested Tintin, still clearly struggling to come to terms with what had been said.

"That is true," nodded Laure. "But somehow that led to…" She halted, unable to name what they had become.

"This," explained Gilou, leaning to kiss her gently on the lips.

Her hand reached for his, and the other took his face. She had to stop herself kissing him back in earnest. Tintin understood then, his confusing melting to realisation.

"Oh," he said. "Oh." And smiled.

They relaxed, since Tintin now knew about them, and seemed okay with it. The three friends spent the next couple of hours chatting, joking, teasing each other and patting each other on the back. At the end of the evening, Tintin stood to leave, and Laure pulled him into a hug. She kissed him on the cheeks and although he seemed a little taken aback, he beamed at her.

"You're a lucky man Gilou," he pronounced unexpectedly, as he patted Gilou on the shoulder before he left. He slipped into a taxi, a little worse for wear. "Look after her. Also, Laure, you'd better love my friend as much as I love him."

He was laughing, but there was a challenge in his words. He knew Laure's reputation for one night stands as well as Gilou did. They both smiled back at him, touched, and tears sprang to her eyes. He thought she could love Gilou. She wanted, in that moment, to love him, for a long time.

"I will, Tintin," she promised.

They waved him off, her arm around Gilou. Laure had only had the one beer much earlier in the evening, so she drove them back.

"Your place or mine?" she offered.

"I don't mind Laure, truly, as long as you are there," replied Gilou, leaning back in his seat, his eyes firmly fixed on her. She saw his expression and pulled off the road into a quiet wooded area. He leaned across and kissed her. She could smell the beer on his breath, mixed with his musky masculine aftershave, a mixture that generated unbridled desire in her, desire that threatened to spiral out of control in that car. She felt something else too, a good feeling, a pure feeling, which made her heart sing in a way she had never experienced before.

"Tintin thought I could love you," she said suddenly, breaking off, panting the words out, but needing to speak to him.

Gilou looked like he would rather carry on, but he too, took a breath. "He's an old romantic, don't listen to him."

"I think I'm falling for you," she said quietly.

"Good, because I fell for you a long time ago," Gilou revealed.

"Did you?"

"I did Laure. Did you think the drugs and prostitutes were what I wanted? It was the only way I could cope, seeing you with different men every day. I tried to lose myself, but it didn't work. I still wanted you. I never imagined you'd need me. Why would you?"

"God Gilou. Why not? I'm sorry," she added. "So sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he soothed. "Look at us now."

She looked at him, her eyes betraying her lust and a new feeling of love. Love that was just starting out in a woman unused to it.

"Help me to love you," she pleaded with him.

In response, he kissed her again, and unbuttoned her blouse. They made love in the car and gave in to their most base desires, following the need in their bodies and in their hearts.