I left Cadden’s office to be met on the landing below by Peter.

“That seemed to work well. You got Raffles out of there like a hot snot,” he said with a grin.

“It was a good plan. It took them by surprise, Cadden has a few things to think about.”

“He’s just worried that it’s gonna cost him, but it’s gonna.”

“So what’s our next step?”

“Keep the head down until they counterattack. We’ll be ready for him. Confusion, obfuscation, contradiction and prevarication are our friends.”

“How so?”

“Whatever they hit us with we withdraw and consider it. This has to go our way or no way. We’ll formulate something that’s in our favour and hold out until the last to get it.”

“What’s acceptable?”

“Everything we want or nothing at all. That includes location.”

“Location? How do you mean?”

“These towns down the country are fine for tourists, you can check them out yourself to see. If it were me, I’d be in Galway. It’s good for socialising. It’s a tourist magnet and there’s a never ending supply of tail, foreign and domestic.”

“What about the training facilities and courses?”

“What about them?”

“Are they any fucking use? In comparison to the other towns, I mean.”

“It’s government, Tony. None of them are any fucking use.”

“I don’t want to waste six months by failing.”

“You’ve already eliminated that prospect with the credits, they all count as a pass with a distinction. You’ll only be judged by the syllabus used for the module you’re attending. It’s a government training program, Tony. It’s a scam to make us all think that they’re doing something for people in deprived areas. It’s all about votes. They won’t let you fail. Just turn up for classes, sign in, look a bit interested for ten minutes and fuck off back out again.”

“That’s very cynical, Peter.”

“Plus, the lodgings in Galway are pretty good. It’s mixed gender, hot and cold running women, guaranteed. Just make sure you don’t get yourself pregnant.”

“Great. I’m in.”

We retreated to our respective lairs to await the edict from above. Nothing came by 4:00 so I felt myself relax a little. I was contemplating going home when Raffles came in.

“Hi, Tony,” he said quickly, “I didn’t want the day to pass without apologising to you. I didn’t think your birthday was such a big secret.”

He was a little bastard. I said nothing and just looked at him until he got the message and fucked off.

My phone rang.

“Hello stranger, you missed my party, it was fab.”

“Chloe, how the hell are you? How did it go?”

“It was great. It would have been better with you there.”

“I’ll take you out this week as a belated celebration.”

“You mean on a date?”

“If you like.”

“What’ll we do afterwards?”

“What would you like to do.”

“You.”

“Chloe.”

“You asked, but I miss you.”

“It’s only been a few days, Chloe, in any case, we don’t have anywhere that we can go afterwards.”

“That’s why I called. I have the house to myself next week for a whole week.”

“Why?”

“My parents are going to their house in Spain to schmooze someone.”

“Why not go with them?”

“You know why.”

“Ok, text me the details. We’ll set it up.”

“Kewl!”

My phone dinged a text from Lillian:

"Good morning, Tony. I had an enlightening talk with Lindsay last night. She is still very raw but she's a strong woman. I sent her to our business advisor who will be seeing her today. She has a lot of ideas, so whatever you said to her kickstarted something in her brain that set her to thinking in a more businesslike fashion. If I need to, may I call you on the phone at some stage? Nothing is solidified as yet but we may need your assistance. Talk soon, Lillian x"

I just texted her a thank you, and an agreement for her to call, in reply. I grabbed my jacket and left for home. I had just sat down with a cup of tea when Cadden called me on the phone.

"Hi, Mr. Cadden, how are you?"

"Ah, Tony, I'm very well thanks. My sincerest apologies for not getting to you sooner."

"Not to worry, I'm sure you're very busy."

"Yes, that's why I'm calling you. I need an intervention with a rival firm, on a job that's going south in your neck of the woods, at a house in Santry."

"Sure, what's the issue?"

"I've only heard one side of the story so I can't comment. Would you go over there this evening and get the clients side, please? We can compare and contrast and make a determination based on that."

"Will you text me the client’s name and address, please? I’ll head over there straight away, while it’s still light."

"Ah, my life on you, Tony. You are a star."

"Yes, but not enough of a star for you to get me proper training," I thought to myself.

I headed out to Shanliss Avenue. The job was a rear extension and complete refurb of a semi-detached house built in the mid-fifties. I watched the owner, Elaine, as she remonstrated with some construction staff outside on the driveway of the house. She was crying. I felt she was being bullied slightly by the guy who was either the contractor or his foreman. I sidled up behind them and eavesdropped on the conversation. They were arguing about the workmanship and the alleged breach of the National Building Regulations. There was a lot of waffle spewing from the contractor/foreman so I asked what the problem was. They all looked at me as if I had three heads.

"What's it to you, pal?"

"Who are you in this operation please?" I asked him politely.

"I'm the General Foreman, Pat Markey," he said importantly, and stuck out his hand.

"Tony Harris," I said, "Cadden Architectural and I'm not your pal."

The guy shut down immediately. Elaine nearly jumped for joy, she came and stood beside me and started to talk very quickly. I shut her down just as fast.

"Pat, I've been sent out here by my boss to get some information. Who do I ask, you or Elaine? Better still, let's have a little walk around the site, are you ok with that?"

He agreed and we went inside. We strolled through the main entrance and into a room off to the right of the hallway. I stopped, looked around and scratched my head.

"Something wrong, Tony?" Pat asked.

"Possibly. Where's all of the Health and Safety notifications and PPE?"

"Ah, we don't bother with that stuff, Tony. It's only a small site."

I took out my phone and took some pictures, starting with him and his big, ugly, unprotected head. I got Elaine to stand beside him and took one of them also.

"Ok, Pat. I've seen enough for now. I'm shutting this site down until it's properly secured and posted. I'll visit again next Monday morning at 8:00 to see if it's compliant. If it is, I'll allow you back in on Tuesday. Meanwhile, you'll have to lock this place up and have a HSA team carry out the required work. If I think that you got your own men to do it, I'll have your registration. Understood?"

"But..."

"I didn't ask for questions, Pat. Just do it."

I went out to my van and got two safety helmets, and high-visibility jackets, one set for me and one for Elaine. We put them on and walked inside the site. She was still upset so I put my arms around her and gave her a hug. I took a tissue from my pocket and wiped the tears away.

"Don't worry, Elaine, this'll get sorted out for you. He's just a bully. Bullies don't phase me. I'm a bigger bully."

She smiled appreciatively.

"Ok," I said to her, "tell me your story."

She spoke for a long time and appeared to be gaining a certain strength as she spoke. The starting point for the aggravation was that she had been getting advice from a neighbour on the standard of the works being done. He also told her that the materials weren't registered for use in this country and that the insulation in the extension roof was not compliant.

"Can you get this chap over? I'd like to hear it first hand from him."

"Can you not take a look and confirm or deny it, Tony?"

"I can, but I usually take this route for a number of reasons, which I won't disclose at this point."

She took out her phone and called the chap in question. A man called Clive marched in about two minutes later sucking on a pipe and full of his own importance. Elaine introduced me and we shook hands. I took out a small notepad and pen from my pocket and asked him to sign it. He dithered a little as he took it from me,

"What's this for, Tony?"

"It's a waiver, Clive. You're not covered by anyone's indemnity cover and you're not wearing any PPE. If anything happens to you, we aren't liable. I just want you to be aware of that and I need it in writing."

The idiot signed it. I switched my recorder on and held it up so he could see it. He nodded in agreement.

“Ok, you appear to have made a lot of defamatory statements about the works and materials going into this job, Clive. I have no connection to it, at all, except in a refereeing capacity at the moment, so to save me a little time, can you tell me what your concerns are, please?"

"Certainly, Tony."

He walked straight out to the kitchen and pointed at the roof timbers.

"These timbers are not the correct size. They should be nine inches by two inches."

"What size are they?

"A little more than eight."

"Ok, what else?"

"The insulation is only six inches thick, It should be afoot."

"Ok, anything else?

"Yes, if you come over here and look under the concrete floor in the corner, the insulation is only three inches thick but it should be four and there's no plastic sheeting protecting it. Just this reddish tarpaulin that someone found in the back of his van. It's not acceptable."

"Do you have a background in construction, Clive?"

"No, but anyone can see it's not right."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, the insulation that they're using on the inner walls has been banned as a system in favour of external or cavity wall insulation."

"Who told you that?"

"I read it online."

"Is that it?"

"For now. I'll take a more in-depth look around it tomorrow and get back to you."

"Ok, Clive. Thanks for that. Firstly, you will leave this premises today and will not set foot inside it until everything had been signed off and paid for. I have to say that I have never heard so much bollox coming from one person in my life."

"How dare you? You're in league with them."

"I need you to shut up and listen, Clive. You might actually learn something. Firstly, the roof timbers shouldn't be nine by two, they should be 225 x 44. We use metric measurements these days.

It doesn't say anything in the regulations about flat roof insulation being more that 150mm to allow for ventilating the roof with a 60mm ventilation space. Further, if you looked closely enough you would have seen that there is a top layer of insulation across the top of the joists and beneath the plywood deck. There's a scientific reason for that but it's none of your business.

The underfloor insulation is calculated by a formula to derive a thickness that is compliant with Part L of the current Technical Guidance Documents. The architect that specified the job will have done that calculation and signed off on the installation. That's why there's an inspection pit in the corner, it's common practice. The ‘tarpaulin’ is a Radon barrier.

The internal insulation you say has been banned, holds a current certified Certificate of Agrement, I was looking at the same stuff on another job this morning, so I know. There is no obligation on anyone to specify any particular fabric construction once the required UValues of the building element are correct and compliant under Part L of the Technical Guidance Documents.

We don't use metaphor, gossip or second-guessing when designing buildings. Neither do we take information from a rabbit hole on the internet. I suggest you keep your uneducated opinions to yourself and pray that this contractor doesn't sue your arse to kingdom come for defamation, aggravation and time lost due to delays caused by your stupidly ignorant intervention. I will be recommending to my boss that we sue you for wasting our time and seek appropriate damages which, I guarantee, will be quite substantial. The architect of record will receive the same recommendation, as will the engineering company who designed the structural elements of the job along with the contractor who has suffered egregiously at your unwarranted intervention. I'm also sure that this project will incur overrun costs in liquidated damages that will be passed on to Elaine, here. I don't know if she will sue you also, but if everyone takes up the option, Clive, you'll be up to your arse in solicitor's fees for the foreseeable future. I have everything on tape so it can't be denied."

Clive went pale in the face and Elaine was no better. He left us to our own devices and disappeared with his tail between his legs.

"I'm sorry, Tony. He was so convincing."

"People like him tend to talk the talk but they cause unending problems between builders and their clients. Honestly, Elaine, I don't see much to complain about here. The job looks sound, straight and true, to me. I suggest you give Pat a call. Apologise and tell him to get back to work tomorrow. Otherwise, a bad atmosphere will develop and the job will never finish."

"Thanks, Tony, I'll do it tomorrow."

I handed her my phone.

"Do it now. That's the best advice I can give you. That, and trust your architect."

She called Pat and they sorted it out. Pat called me on the way home and thanked me. I told him to get his Safety stuff up to speed. I bade Elaine farewell and left for home. When I got there Jack McKnight was just leaving. I beeped the horn at him and he waved.

“Hey, Jackie,” I said.

“Working hard or hardly working?”

“Sorting out a messy job for someone.”

“Fancy a pint?”

“Now you mention it.”

“Where?”

“I’m easy, Jack.”

“The Sheaf?”

“I’ll follow you down, I just wanna change clothes.”

“I’ll get two in.”

I followed him down ten minutes later and found him sitting in the back lounge talking to a few women. I grabbed my pint and sat beside the fire, waiting for him.

“You’re a snobby bastard all of a sudden,” he said.

“Why?”

“You could’ve come over and said hello.”

“I don’t know any of them.”

“A couple of them know you.”

“Which ones?”

“Maria Ennis, Tara Jones and May Kavanagh.”

“Jesus, I wouldn’t recognise any of them. Which one has the dark hair, Jackie?”

“That’s Tara.”

“Nice.”

“She’s attached.”

“Good for her. Who’s the blonde to her left?”

“With the red jacket?”

“No, the other left.”

“That’s, May.”

“I suppose I’d better go and say hello.”

“It’d be an idea.”

I walked over to them with an embarrassed expression on my face.

“Apologies, girls but I honestly didn’t recognise any of you when I came in. I’m absolutely mortified.”

“That’s ok, Anto. We haven’t seen you around here in years. How’s your Mam?”

“She’s good, May. Listen, let me get you girls a drink as an apology. I feel terrible,” I called the server over.

I walked over to Tara.

“Hi Tara, long time no see.”

“The longer the better, Anto.”

“Are you married yet?”

“No, hopefully soon, though.”

“Who’s the lucky bloke?”

“You wouldn’t know him.”

“Ok.”

I turned to Maria.

“Hi Maria, I didn’t recognise you either but now that my eyes are adjusting, I can see it’s you. You haven’t changed much.”

“Thanks, Anto. You’re a bit different. You’re more confident and together.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. You used to be so shy around girls, now you’re chatting them up in the pub.”

“Hardly chatting you up, Maria.”

“No, but there’s something about you just the same.”

“Are you married yet?”

“No. I’m staying single as long as I can.”

“Playing the field?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Wise move. Well, it’s nice to see you all again. Cheers, ladies.” I raised my glass to them and went back to join Jackie.

“So what did you do to Tara?”

“When?”

“Didn’t you go out with her?”

“I think we went to a movie once. A Bruce Lee film. I didn’t even get a kiss.”

We were still laughing about it when Sandra, Jack’s fiancé, walked in.

“Hey Anto. Too bad about you and Gemma,” she said.

“That’s how it goes sometimes, Sandra. I hope it works out for her, she’s a fantastic lady.”

Sandra smiled at me. She saw the three girls and went to talk to them. When she came back, two of them had come with her. I moved the chairs around to accommodate them and they sat down. Tara sat near me, a stool in between us. I sat, virtually, on my own, sipping my pint. My phone rang in my pocket. Cadden.

“Tony, I apologise profusely for interrupting your evening.”

“No problem Mr. Cadden, what do you need?”

“How did it go in Santry?”

I walked away from the group and turned my back to them before telling him everything.

“Ok. An interfering neighbour strikes again. I can cross that off my list, Tony. Good boy. I’ll let you go back to your evening,”

We hung up. I sat down in my seat again and went through a few messages. I was reading one from Chloe and thinking about a reply when Tara said something to me.

“Sorry, say again?” I said.

“I said, you’re a busy little bee.”

“Yes, it can be like that.”

“You sounded very official.”

“Yes, that was the boss. He’s a bit of a stick in the mud by times.”

I patted the empty stool between us and she thought for a beat before lowering her beautiful little bum onto it.

“Tell me what I did, Tara.”

“When?”

“I honestly don’t know. Jack asked me and, I’ll be honest, if I thought for a second that I was inappropriate with you, it’d kill me inside. I was stupid back then.”

“We both were. No, Anto, you did nothing. That was the problem. I saw you and Eileen Clarke kissing behind the library one night, but you never even tried to kiss me.”

“I didn’t even know how to kiss then.”

She laughed.

“Have you learned since?"

“I suppose I must have. I hated kissing then but not now.”

“Sandra told us about you and Gemma. She’s about five years older than us isn’t she?”

“Possibly.”

“She told us all about it. Everything.”

“I wish she wouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Ah, I don’t think it reflects well on Gemma. It’s not fair.”

“Are you a gentleman now too?”

“I try. So who’s the guy?”

“Alan? He’s just a guy at the moment.”

“You like him?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Do you love him?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’ll work out where it works out, or not.”

“So I reckon you owe me a kiss, Anthony Harris. How about it.”

“In here?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? What if one of Alan’s mates is around and tells him?”

“It’s just a kiss.”

“Ok, come closer.”

She scooched over.

“A bit more.”

“There’s no more room.”

I pulled the stool, with her sitting on it, closer to me. Her hazel eyes, already beautiful and wide, opened wider for an infinitesimal second, a curious little smile appeared on her lips. Her eyes locked with mine.

“I like this new, masterful, Anto?” she whispered.

“I’ve always liked you, Tara.”

“You never showed it.”

“I know, we were only kids. Let me make it better.”

I touched her face and smoothed her dark hair from her forehead, I heard and saw her swallow something. I touched the corner of her mouth.

“You always had very kissable lips, Tara. If I had any courage I could have lived in those lips, those beautiful eyes, your cute button nose. You were everything anyone could ever dream about.”

“Kiss me, Anto. Please.”

“I’m going to, Tara. When we were younger, the thoughts of kissing you totally consumed me. My every waking hour, my dreams at night. I concocted many complicated tactical plans in my stupid head to manufacture a situation where our lips met and some form of magic would transport us off to a land that exists only in fantasy. Yes, I did kiss Eileen, but it wasn’t a kiss. Magic didn’t happen. I was devastated. Was it all a figment of someone’s imagination? Was it me?”

Her face softened and leaned slightly to the left. I took her hand in mine.

“So I ran away from it. Back to my dreams at night and my thoughts during the days. Stupid childhood things, over-complicated thoughts about you and I, when all I had to do was this.”

I touched my lips softly to hers and looked deeper into her eyes. They flashed momentarily as I kissed her softly again. I kissed her cheek and she kissed my lips. Her hand squeezed mine as our lips met fully in a deeper connection. My tongue touched hers and withdrew, hers followed mine into my mouth, touching, testing the waters. Her hand caressed my face as we engaged fully. The motion of my lips took hers on a timeless journey, uncaring of our surroundings, off to a place of joy and love. Our lips parted and her eyes stayed closed. I touched her knee.

“Tara?” I whispered.

Her eyes opened.

“Oh my God. How did you do that?”

“It’s my way of apologising and to show that it wasn’t you, only me.”

I nodded my head a little to the side and she looked as Jackie, Sandra and May scrambled to make themselves invisible.

“Bad idea doing that in here, Tara. I hope none of Alan’s mates saw us.”

“Fuck them,” she said, “would you like to take me home? I have memories of feelings too.”

“Give me a few minutes to calm down first, you’ve got me all wet.”

“I understand completely. I have to use the bathroom first.”

Tara lived with her widowed mother in a house about five doors down from us. Her mother, living alternatively between Tara and her two sisters, was away for a few days on the south side of the city with Tara’s older sister, Karen. I stopped outside the front gate and left the engine running. I leaned over to kiss her again, but she stopped me. I sat back in my seat, chastened. She smiled, reached over, turned the engine off, withdrew the key and handed it to me.

“I listened to your dreams, Anto. Would you listen to mine?”

We went inside and sat on a couch in the living room of the house. It was dark so she switched a dim light on. I took her in my arms and kissed her, the kiss lingered and grew. She sighed inside as her arousal took hold, becoming more animated with her actions, more adventurous with her touches. She touched my penis, finding it fully erect and painfully hard. She unzipped me, released me from my trousers and moved silently to take me in her mouth. Her lips caressed the head of my penis, occasionally moving to take most of me into her mouth, lubricating my entire shaft. She lifted her head with a proud smile. I kissed her and slid her short jacked from her shoulders, followed quickly by her shirt and skirt, A white lace bra held her breasts precariously in place, dropping slightly and seductively as I opened the clasp and set them free. I moved to lie her down on the couch. My hands and lips devoured her breasts, bringing her to full arousal as she squirmed beneath me in desire. My hand slid across her stomach to the waistband of what felt like a lace thong. My lips followed my hand to discover a red thong and deliciously and slowly slid it off over her legs.

“Oh fuck, Anto. You’re driving me insane,” she whispered.

She was beautiful, lying there naked, her legs apart as my fingers teased the area around the perimeter of her vulva, sliding sensually along her soft inner thigh, then along the rear of her thigh and beginning the cycle again at her vulva. Her hips rose and fell as they demanded a touch, or an indication of touch. My tongue would be their saviour, but Tara had it inside her delicious mouth, sucking on it, tingleing from a low moan surrounding it. She gasped, my tongue still exploring her lips, "Anto please, I'm going to cry, please."

"Do you want my finger or my tongue, Tara," I whispered into her mouth.

"Everything, Anto, everything."

I slowly kissed her breasts, lingering slightly at her nipples before touching my tongue to the outer lips of her labia. She groaned. I knelt between her legs and allowed my tongue to dip inside to her pink inner labia, a slow stroke with the flat of my tongue along the pathway to her clitoris. I focused entirely on her clitoris as she almost babbled, she shrieked when I inserted my finger into her vagina and then exploded as my finger found her G Spot and massaged it simultaneously. Her hips threw me from my precarious position on the couch, I held on to her and pulled her with me, my tongue never leaving her clitoris except for a microsecond of disconnection. She pushed my head away and took my penis in her hand, guiding it shakily inside her. She was soaked as I slid deep inside her in one thrust, she leapt as I hit every receptor in the walls of her tight vagina. She moved quickly against me, craving the release of orgasm, it hit not thirty seconds later. Her vaginal muscles pulsed and held me inside as her body ebbed and flowed with the waves of her orgasm, finally settling enough for me to complete my journey.

"Anto, don't come inside me. Please."

I did the gentlemanly thing and pulled out a few seconds before I climaxed and destroyed the carpeting on the floor beneath her. She clung tightly to me, the slowly lessening tremors in her limbs abating as her awareness returned. I lifted her chin and kissed her gently. Her eyes sparkled with a tired energy and her face was a mask of calmness and fulfillment.

"What do we do now, Anto?"

"What would you like to do?"

"What's left?"

"Let's go upstairs and I'll show you."

"Can we do it tomorrow night, please? I couldn't take any more tonight."

"What about the memories of your adolescent dreams, Tara?"

"They're no longer dreams, Anto. They just came true."

I kissed her softly, gave her a card and left for home. When I got home, my mother was still awake, watching TV.

"Ah, good. You're here. I wasn't sure if you'd be coming home tonight." she said.

"You're up late, Mam," I said.

"Yes. James Cadden rang earlier and asked me to have a word with you about this training thing."

"Did he now?"

"He said..."

"Mam, please don't get involved. I'm doing what I need to do, he shouldn't have dragged you into it."

"Ok, son. You know your own know."

"If you say so," I said, laughing, "now I'm going to bed, I'm whacked."

"I wouldn't wonder," she said, looking stoically at the TV, "how is Tara Jones doing these days?"

I thought about how Peter would answer that and I laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. Tara seems to be doing well."

"I heard she got engaged."

"She never said."

"Nor would she, Anthony. She's had her sights set on you since you were both children."

"Really? I never knew that."

"Of course you did. You were never out of that feckin' window in case she walked by."

I laughed and kissed her.

"I love you, Mam. You never forget anything."

"Don't ever forget that, Anthony."

I went to sleep thinking about how much of Cadden's head I'd like to pull off the next morning. I hadn't calmed down on the drive into work so I called Peter to get his take on it. He didn't answer, so I left a message telling him to call me back. I had just ended the call when the phone rang again.

"Tony Harris," I said.

"Anto, Jack McKnight."

"Hey Jack, twice in less than twelve hours. Do you miss me?"

"Yeah, always. I just wanted to pick your brain."

"You're welcome to what's left of it, Jack."

"This is why I wanted to see you last night, but the little one-eyed Anto woke up. How did that go?"

"Oh, you know. Old girlfriends and all that."

"I assume her tonsils are ok, given the examination you were giving them in the Sheaf."

"She was well able to scream, Jack, and that's all I'm gonna say about it."

"You're a classic. Anto. How do you do that?

"I fill them up with drink, Jack. Works every time."

"Anyways, your sex life apart, I'm working on something that might be interesting."

"Ok. What is it?"

"I don't really know yet, but it could be a fantastic earner if we hit it right."

"Still none the wiser, Jack."

"It's a property play with a different angle. I haven't got it totally worked out yet, but I need someone like you to assist on the property side. There's money in it for you."

"Where's the money coming from?"

"See, that's why I called. I have a large line of credit to work with. It came as part of my contract with the Fund."

"What does large mean?"

"Plenty. At present it's only $20 million, but there's another $10 million when we cover the first lot of financing."

"Fuck me, Jack. Well fucking done, lad. I'm proud of you, you bastard."

"I'm playing around with stuff at the moment but I may have found a path. Are you interested?"

"That depends on what's involved."

"I'm working on that, but I need to know if you'd be interested first."

"As long as everything is above board, of course I'm interested."

"Great. I'll get back to you early next week when I have everything crossed and dotted."

"Jack?"

"Yes?"

"Before you go, how much are we talking here for my end?"

"Oh, we'd call it something like a consultancy fee at three percent."

"Three percent of what?"

"Any given investment."

"Sounds interesting all right. Keep me in the loop on it."

"Will do, Anto. Sayonara for now."

The phone rang when I hung up on Jackie. It was Peter. I told him about Cadden.

"That bastard."

"What does this mean, Peter?"

"It means he gets his head bitten off this morning."

"Ok. I'm just on Leeson Street, I'll see you in a few."

Cadden beat us to it. When we walked into the office he was standing on the stairs waiting for us. Of course, he tried to make it look coincidental.

“Good morning, men. I was hoping I’d run into you both. I need the file index for the Adams project. What time are you meeting them today?”

“In an hour,” Peter said.

“Good, let me know if there are any issues. Tony, can I see you in my office, please?”

I followed him up the stairs and sat across the desk from him. He handed me a slim folder.

“Take a look through that proposal, Tony.”

I opened the file and took four pages out. I read through it quickly. I was so angry with him that it didn’t sink in at first. It was everything I asked for, along with a retrospective salary subvention to cover my demand for a non-welfare payment.

“Thank you, Mr. Cadden. Where do I go? Which college?”

“It’s on page four, Tony. I hate to lose you for six months, but so be it.”

“It says I can choose Cork, Tralee or Galway.”

“Yes.”

“Which one would you suggest?”

“Personally, I’d choose Galway. You might think differently.”

I almost thought there was a listening bug planted somewhere.

“When do I go?”

“The start of next month, three weeks time. It gives you some time to prepare and get whatever files you’re working on, up to date.”

“So that’s it?”

“Yes. There are some paperwork things that you need to put together, travel cards, various passes, photo ID etc. It’s all in the file. We can’t do that for you.”

“What about the course credits?”

“All agreed and the diplomas will be issued in the next few weeks. With your agreement, I’d like to keep them in our personnel files until you return.”

“Why?”

“We’d like to make a bit of a deal of it. Drinks, food, photos, all that stuff. We don't raise many through the ranks.”

“I’d like that, Mr. Cadden, thank you.”

He smiled and stood up with his hand out. I was about to take it but I paused.

“That’s all good Mr. Cadden. Can’t we take pictures using copies? That way I’ll have the originals in hand when I go to Galway.”

He took my hand and broke into loud laughter.

“Nothing ever runs easy, Tony, does it? Of course, you can have the originals.”

We shook hands and I left with the file folder clutched in my sweaty little hand. When I got to my office, Peter was inside. I handed him the folder. He had a worried look on his face.

"Well?" he said.

“The bastard screwed me,” I said, and threw myself into the chair.

He riffled through the papers.

“That sneaky, slimy fucker. He screwed us. Now we can’t pull his fucking head off.”

“I know, let’s pull someone else’s head off.”

“Look out Grizzly Adams, we’re cominatcha.”

I was still a bit confused, however. Why would he call my mother?

“The cow!” I said, to nobody in particular.

I called her on the phone.

“Anthony? Anything wrong.”

“No,” I said, “I’m just calling to say thanks.”

“No need, but I appreciate it.”

“See you later. I love you.”

“I love you. At the back of it all you’re a very good man. Even to Mrs. Smith. You do realise that she really loves those little boxes of chocolate that you bring her, don't you? Don’t give that up.”

I laughed.

“You’re a right sleiveen, Mam. If you want chocolate all you have to do is ask.”

“Ellen doesn’t have to ask,” she said, but she broke down into laughter.

“Gotcha. See you later.”

I read through the file again to familiarise myself further with the requirements. I spent thirty minutes registering with the Student Union. I snapped a selfie on my phone and attached it before emailing the entire thing to them. I just completed the free travel application and was sending it, just as Peter came looking for me.

“Getting yourself sorted?”

“No point in sitting around.”

“True. Speaking of which, get your arse in gear, we’re due at Grizzly Adams' cabin.”

We jumped in the van and took off.

“Have we got everything?” I asked.

“Yep! Busy last night?”

“A little. Out for a few pints.”

“Did you shift anything?”

“Kinda.”

“Oh, what does that mean?”

“I met an old girlfriend in the pub?”

“What? Is she a pensioner or something?”

“I mean a girl I went out with when we were kids.”

“And?”

I reached into my pocket and handed him her red thong.

“Nice. How was she in the sack?”

“It was only okay, really. Just a straight shag. Shoot on the floor at the last minute. A little off, to be honest. Kind of like a guilt trip.”

“Sometimes you’re better off not revisiting things, Tony, it’s never the same. So what’s on the agenda tonight?”

“Natalie sent me a text this morning. I’m seeing her tomorrow night. Nothing tonight.”

“There’s an engagement party in Toners that I have to stick my head into tonight. Fancy an hour there?”

“Yeah. Why not? It might be fun.”

“I’ll have Ellen make some dinner for us.”

“Now that works for me.”

We parked outside Adams’ offices.

“Into the valley of death,” Peter said, and we strode purposefully through the big glass doors.

We were led into a conference room encased in glass, with a huge, white oval conference table surrounded by fourteen trendy chairs. A matching set of floor cabinets ranged the entire length of one side wall under the windows and it was covered with loose sketches and plans.

“IKEA gone mad,” Peter remarked, as he flicked through some of the sketches.

I could see his point.

“Jill’s work?”

“I’d say so, Tony. The rugby ball motif of the table is a dead giveaway.”

“It’s like we’re on display in here, I wonder how hot it gets in the summer? Their AC bills must be huge.”

“We’re fucked here, Tony,” Peter said quietly, as he picked one of the sketches up.

“Why?”

“These sketches were only done recently, they’re just for show and they want us to find them.”

“How do you know?”

“They’re not our job, for a start, and they’re titled as renovation and change of use at 80 Fitzwilliam Square.”

“That doesn’t make them fake.”

“There’s only 69 houses on Fitzwilliam Square.”

“How do you know that?”

“Fuck off.”

“Sorry, I should’ve known better.”

“We need a counterattack, so don’t look surprised if I say something off-plan. Just go with me on it.”

“Such as?”

“I'm going freestyle. You’ll know it when you hear it. It depends on what they throw at us.”

Peter was looking at the plan when Adams, a tall chap with glasses and two young secretaries walked in. We shook hands, smiled at each other and were introduced.

“Peter, Tony, this is Toal, Ailish and Niamh,” Ben said.

Ailish and Niamh were little foxes but Peter stayed professional, while I chose Niamh for him. Ailish wore a nice trouser suit and her bum was incredible.

“I see you’re admiring our new project, Peter,” Toal said.

“Yes, this is a big one alright, expensive.”

“true. It’s not in great shape. It needs a huge amount of work.”

“I’d expect it would, it's usually a full strip out back to the skeleton.”

“You got that right, Peter.”

“Good luck with it, Tool. You’re probably gonna need a magic wand to produce this.”

He looked straight at Toal with a flicker of devilment. Toal took a step back and was thrown completely.

“Well let’s get down to business. I’ve had a good look through this proposal and it’s just not what we need for this job.”

“Why not, Tool?” I asked.

“It’s way beyond the scope of the allowances on the project. If we demolished both stables we could build them out new for half of the estimated cost here.”

“That’s quite true, Tool,” Peter said, “so go ahead and demolish them. Before you rebuild, though, you can’t use those designs unless I sign off on it.”

“Sorry, Peter, Tony, it’s Toal, not Tool and why can’t we use them? We paid for them.”

“Take a look at the bottom left-hand corner.”

“What am I looking at?”

“They’re copyright protected, Tool, you only paid a licensing fee.”

Adams looked at me with fire in his eyes.

“So, what exactly is going on here, lads and lassies?” I said.

“We don’t think we can accept this proposal as it stands. Our renovation budget won’t cover number 80 and the stables. If we can’t get the costs down by fifty percent we’ll have to shelve it for a year or two.”

“Ok, that makes sense. We can’t alter the proposal, Tool,” I said, as Aisling looked at Niamh and tried not to laugh, “so we’re not gonna waste any more of our time. Can you give us something in writing to that effect, please? We’ll be on our way then.”

“That’s a shame, but it was worth the effort, all told,” Toal said, as Adams quietly fumed beside him, “Aisling and Niamh will give you a note to cover it, if you’d care to wait.”

“Happy to,” Peter said.

We shook hands again and they left us with the two girls.

“What do you want from us, Tony?” Aisling said.

“Oh, where do I begin, Aisling? We should probably discuss it over a nice glass of chilled Sauvignon Blanc at lunchtime, but we have to get back. Will you do that letter for me, please? I’ll tell you what we need.”

“Yes, of course. Lunch sounds nice too, would you like to come to my office while I type this out? In case of an error.”

“Certainly. Peter might persuade Niamh to join us at lunch, and whatever may occur beyond that.”

I could hear his thoughts as he called me a conniving bastard. He’d just have to take one for the team if it came to that.

Aisling listened carefully and typed exactly what I said into her word processor. She patted her hand on the chair next to her and I sat beside her to read it. It was perfect and exactly what I needed. She raised her eyebrows in search of acceptance and I just looked into her delicious, chocolate-brown eyes.

“Tony?” she touched my hand.

“Sorry, Aisling. I was lost in your eyes for a moment."

She blushed and indicated the screen with her hand. I read it again.

“That’s spot on, Aisling. Great job, I could kiss you.”

“Well, why don’t you?”

I leaned into her lips and she took my hand as they joined with hers. I opened her mouth with my lips and her movements were slow, deliberate and sexy. Our tongues toyed with each other as they pursued one another, much like children at a picnic on a warm summer day. Her hand moved to my face and held me, her fingers running through my hair, her breath deepening with mine until we finally came up for air. We were momentarily breathless. Her eyes were closed as she pursued an objective balance. Without looking at me, she printed the page with the touch of a button.

“I’ll get Toal to sign this for you, Tony.”

“Thanks.”

She brought it back in less than a minute and handed it to me. I read it again, folded it and went to place it in my inside pocket. She stopped me. I looked at her in dread.

“Wait, forgive my manners, we need an envelope for this. I’m a little distracted.”

She asked for my number and promised to call to arrange something. I returned to the conference room but Peter had disappeared. I spent a few minutes looking for him but there was no sign, so I left the building. I had just opened the car door and my phone rang. Peter.

“Where are you?”

“Outside at the car.”

“Come back in for a second, were not done yet.”

“Why, where did you go?

“I’ll tell you later, but that Niamh one, she nearly killed me in her office.”

I laughed and met him back outside the conference room. He handed me a copy of the plans that he had found in the room.

“Hide these in your pocket and follow me.”

He stopped outside a door with Toal’s name on it. He stared at the time on his phone for a short while before knocking briefly and pushing the door open. Adams and Toal were toasting each other and looked shocked when we walked in. About twenty seconds later, Toal’s phone rang on his desk, Peter looked at me and winked. Toal raised an imperious finger in our direction and picked it up.

“Watch this, Tony, that’s Maria on the phone.”

“Oh hi, Maria, what can I do for you?” Toal said, as sweetly as he could.

Whatever she said to him caused him to turn pale, his eyes darted around between the three of us, eventually stopping at Adams.

“Ok, thanks,” he said, and handed it to Adams, who looked like a small, lost child as he listened.

He eventually hung the phone up.

“Ok, lads. You win this one.”

He picked up a pen, signed the proposal acceptance sheet and threw it on the desk. I walked over and picked it up.

“Nice try, Tool.”

“It’s Toal,” he said quietly.

“No,” Peter said, “it’s Tool, because you’re a fucking tool, Tool. Before you try and fuck someone you need to know who the fuck you’re fucking with. 80 Fitzwilliam Square? When there are only 69 houses on the Square? This’ll be a great laugh around every property-based business in the country. You’re a fraudster, a liar, a conman and a tool.”

"You have no proof of anything.”

“Show him the tape,” Peter said to me and I produced the recorder from my pocket.

“That’s illegal.”

“Fuck off, Tool,” Peter said, and then to Ben, “if I was you, Ben, I’d fire this imbecile ten seconds after we leave this office.”

We walked out and ran from the building in stitches. When we got in the car Peter said,

“Not a bad morning, young maestro. I fucked Tool and his secretary and I’m sure you made headway with Aisling. That’s what I call a successful morning. We should go for lunch.”

After lunch, we updated Cadden and Raffles on our adventure. I handed over the tape, the fake sketches, the signed letter of acceptance and the Toal letter. Cadden looked at us in disbelief.

"There's an awful lot to process here, lads. Very well done indeed. Looking at everything here I would venture to suggest that a bit of forward planning went into this?"

"It was all Tony, Mr. C. I just played my own part and Tony rowed in beside me. It was very flexible."

"Tony?"

"Yes, I know. I didn't trust those bastards, Mr. Cadden and I still don't. To be honest, I didn't think they'd go to this extreme but, thankfully, Peter is a nosey fucker and he copped on to what they were up to. It was a joint mission all the way."

"How did you know the house count on Fitzwilliam Square, Peter?"

" I told you before. Local knowledge. How can anyone forget a 69?"

"Ok, so we move on. Peter will take charge of the project while you're away on sabbatical, Tony, ok?"

"As long as there's no messing from Raffles," I said.

"My name isn't Raffles, Tony. I wish you'd stop calling me that."

"Yes, Tony don't ruffle Raffles feathers," Peter said.

We all laughed, except Raffles, and headed back to our respective offices. I was no more than twenty seconds through the door when my phone rang.

"Tony Harris."

"Hi, Tony. Aisling James here."

"Aisling, I was just thinking about you, we must be psychically conjoined."

"What were you thinking about? If I may ask."

"Our kiss and its deeper harbingers."

"In what way?"

"I tend to view a kiss like that as a harbinger of joy, trust, romance. It blows away doubt and allows the warmth in."

"That's quite deep."

"I could extrapolate further if you wish, say, this evening? Dinner at Roly's Bistro?"

"Yes, please. I love Roly's. Will I book a table for us for, say, 7:30?"

"That's a plan. Let's meet in the Herbert Park for a drink at 7:00. Make a civilized evening of it."

"Ooh, yes. We have a corporate suite there. Would we have time to take a tour of it? I've got the keys in my desk."

"We can tour it after dinner if you like, Aisling."

"I'm excited. I'll wear my new dress."

"Now I'm excited, I'll wear mine too."

I tore home and cleaned myself up. I came downstairs with my good suit on and my mother looked at me with a sly smile on her face.

"I'm guessing you won't be home tonight, Anthony."

"If there's any justice in the world, Mam."

"What's her name?"

"Who said it was a she?"

She threw a knitting needle at me.

"Don't tell me, then."

"Her name is Aisling, she's a lovely girl."

"Once it's not Tara, I'm happy."

I handed her the box of Leonidas I had hidden behind my back. She smiled and rubbed her hands together.

"Oh, Goody. Tell Sinead to come down and we'll have a girls' night in?" she said.

Aisling was inside the lobby of the Herbert Park Hotel when I arrived at 7:00 on the dot. She was stunning in a green off-the-shoulder dress accented with a printed motif of large white Plumerias. It turned heads everywhere as it clung to her shape. She wore beige sandals on bare feet to put a killer finish to her look.

I hugged her and stole a kiss.

"You look incredible, Aisling. I love your dress."

"I know, isn't it cute?"

"Is it Selani?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"I took a shot. I love the Plumeria's detail. It screams elegance and fun at the same time."

She took my arm, "you're not so shabby yourself, Tony."

"It doesn't matter what I wear, Aisling. Nobody is looking at me. Every eye in the place has you in their sight."

She kissed me quickly as we strolled to the bar.

"You're good for a girl's ego, Tony."

We had a quick drink, water for me and a spritzer for Aisling, then we strolled around the corner to Roly's Bistro. We had a lovely meal and a nice chat. She had another glass of wine and she was smiling. She took my hand across the table.

"Can we talk work for a second?"

"Sure."

"What happened after that meeting today?"

"Why?"

"Toal was fired."

"That doesn't surprise me, Aisling. He was outmaneuvered, that's all."

"You didn't get him fired, did you?"

"No. I'm just an office boy in real terms."

"Now I know that's not true."

"It pretty much is. I'm off to school in Galway in a couple of weeks. That sums my position up in a nutshell."

"Peter and Niamh got it on today too. Did you hear?"

"No. Tell me, I need to know."

She scratched the back of my hand with her nails and sent a shiver right through me.

"Jesus, do that again."

"Later," she said.

"How much later?"

"No later than a few minutes after we pay our bill here."

"You mean now?"

She laughed and blushed as she held her hand to her face.

"I suppose I do. Let's go."

She led the way to the corporate suite at the Herbert. In the lift, she kissed me like her life depended on it. It curled my toes and I couldn't stop a low groan forming deep in my throat. She broke away when the lift stopped and she let us into the suite with a key from her purse. It was a fantastic place but I was waylaid by Aisling as I took in the panoramic view from the living room windows.

I sat on a couch and she sat on my lap. Our lips were alive as we descended into a deep and comfortable haven, lost in each other, sharing breath and taste. I held her close, in an embrace akin to a woven web of soft silk, as our kiss became a spell, enchanting us both and shutting out all external stimuli.

"Let's go to the bedroom, Tony," she whispered.

She kicked off her shoes as we walked to the bedroom. I had butterflies in the pit of my stomach, I wanted this to be perfect for us both, but especially her. She was such a beautiful woman it made me pause every time she looked at me. As she perused the room from the door I placed my hands on her shoulders and eased her gently to me. Her left shoulder was exposed because of the style of her dress. I kissed her there and tasted her skin with my tongue. Her scent was of patchouli, bergamot and limes and her hair, parted straight down the centre, was shining and bounced deliciously each time she moved to allow me to kiss the crook of her neck and shoulder.

"I love that, Tony," she whispered softly.

I unzipped her dress and watched it fall to the floor, exposing her to my eyes for the first time. She searched for my hands as they encircled her tiny waist, holding them to her stomach as she leaned back into me. I slipped out of my shirt and trousers and turned her to me. She wore nothing except a brief, white lace and satin thong. I lifted her in my arms and carried her slowly across the room, placing her carefully on the bed before joining her quietly as she watched every move I made. Her breasts were in proportion to her slim figure. They had their own personality and her nipples called to me. I kissed her lips and then her neck, softly with more use of my breath than my tongue. She shivered with pleasure then sighed when my hands cupped her breasts, she watched as my lips took one of her nipples and sucked on it. My hand then stroked her other nipple at the same time and she groaned a low sound from somewhere deep inside. My hands needed to experience her whole body, her hips, her waist her thighs. Slowly and incrementally find their touch and her sensitive areas. I lifted her arm and kissed underneath, my tongue sliding along her skin in search of a sensitive area there, she shuddered when I found it, whispering,

"Oh God."

My hand explored her spectacular bum, lifting slightly and encouraging her hips to rise from the bed to allow them access. She dropped back as I brought my hand to the side of her thong and slid it under the leg and across her Mons Veneris, scratching her trimmed patch of hair with my fingernail, eliciting a little roll of the hips and a sigh of pleasure as it did so. Her thong was soaked and her legs were slightly parted as I used both hands to slide them off her, down over her legs to her feet which she wriggled about to remove them completely.

Her vulva opened to me and I kissed beside it softly, slowly kissing the opposite side, not touching the sensitive lips as they called me in glistening glory. I kissed all around her, light little sucking and blowing kisses, supplementing that with soft touches of my tongue until she begged me for more.

I placed my tongue softly inside her moist vulva and held it there, the only movement coming from within as I flexed it slightly. A stream of fluid made its way from inside her and onto my tongue, liquid nectar such as I'd never tasted before. This was a very special lady and I was worshipping at her core. I felt humble yet important to her. I wanted to ensure a joyous release for her, to take care of her. I eased my tongue higher towards her clitoral hood, kissing her there and letting my tongue take the strain again. My fingers would not invade her, I wanted her to be uplifted. Her hips began gyrating slowly in time with the movements of my tongue as she sought a higher arousal, a higher place. Her head was moving rapidly from side to side as she held onto mine for dear life, counteracting the rise of her arousal and the closeness of her ultimate climax. As she climbed the final few feet she began to ramble incoherently. When it hit, she released a piercing scream as her body pushed her into a sitting position and pulled her back down immediately.

She turned on her side and clamped her legs together as she tried to control her shaking body. I held her from behind, soothing her with gentle kisses and whispered promises. She started to laugh. Her hand riffled through her hair as she turned on her back. She had a huge smile on her face as she looked into my eyes.

"I can't speak," she said.

"That's one in the goal for the men," I whispered, and she doubled over laughing.

"It's temporary, Tony."

She took my hands and held them to her, one on her breast and the other on her stomach. I moved it to her trimmed bush and scratched her skin. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

"That was wonderful, Tony. Thank you. If you can give me a few minutes I’ll make sure you finish too."

"There's plenty of time, relax and enjoy the moment, Aisling."

"Tell me your story."

"Which part?"

"The part where you came to know so much about my body."

"Ah, that part. Everyone wants to know that part, Aisling. It's a story with troubled beginnings, a story of intrigue, love and hatred. It was a cold night in February, the coldest night on record in Dublin city. I was just a few weeks old, wrapped in a few soft pink blankets, my mother longed for a little girl, lying in a wicker basket left over from Easter, the time of rebirth and renewal. I was taken out into the cold night air and carried four miles into the heart of the city, to the Rotunda hospital.

At two o'clock in the morning, as some flakes of snow began to drift ambivalently from the sky to take up a short-lived residence on the footpaths and roadways to cover the dust and grime of a busy street, my basket was placed slowly on the step outside the deserted main portico of the oldest maternity hospital in the world. I recall my mother looking into my basket, eating a chicken and a bag of prawns as she did so, and whispering something that I have never been able to decipher to this very day. Years of toil and bitter memories couldn't jog my mind. Hours of therapy and hypnosis capitulated in the face of the vice in which my brain had held the information. Then, one day many years later, I was walking through the main gates of the Botanical Gardens on Mobhi Road. I was lost in my thoughts, in the middle of one of my regression-based exercises recommended by Doctor Hans Fervoort of the Amsterdam Institute of Recall and Recollection. I was lost in a world of silence, of regret and self-annihilation until I heard something being said to me by the gatekeeper at the Botanical Gardens, which brought me rocketing back to earth."

Aisling was spellbound. "What did he say? Did it help you remember?"

"No, it didn't. All he said was, "Here you, where's your ticket?"

"You fucker! I thought that was real."

"It felt real."

"Not as real as this."

She reached for my penis.

"Oh, now you want some attention do you?"

"A girl can only take it when she can get it, Tony."

"You have my number, Aisling, that's a gold-plated invitation. What do you intend to do with my penis?"

"Watch and you'll find out."

She took me in her mouth and held me there, her warmth and breath enveloping me, her tongue testing the surfaces, her lips gently sucking the tip. Her hips were beside my head so I slid between her legs and brought her vagina to my mouth. I inserted my tongue inside her and copied her movements as she brought me close to orgasm. She, however, lifted off and screamed as her orgasm hit first. I quickly turned her around and inserted my penis inside her delicate vagina. I savoured the feeling for less than a minute as we both climaxed together. Joined as one with her on her side, clutching me to her in absolute unity.

TBC