We were back at the hotel, in bed, having just screwed each other's brains out. I was on my back contemplating the ceiling frescoes and he was on his side facing me, scowling. "What is?" I finally had enough energy to ask.

"You eat and an hour later, you're hungry again."

I snorted. "That's nothing new."

"Also, it's the only trouble with fucking you, Kitty."

My head swiveled towards him, "Oh? What am I, spare ribs?"

His giggle sounded as he twined a strand of my hair around his forefinger, "More like the best sweet and sour chicken I ever ate."

I digested - er - considered that. "So - I'm sweet and sour, huh?" I wasn't sure I liked that.

He was into it, though. "Yeah - I mean, you have some real mood swings, even by my standards."

"And when I'm being foodlike and changeable - which is what I assume you mean by that description - which do you like better?" I lay back, having scrunched my pillows into a comfortable mound.

"Well, the sour, or pungent parts are interesting, I have to admit." Russell had likewise scrunched his pillows up and reclined on his back now, hands folded across his bare tummy. "I love the spices - the lovely contrast of tender white meat, for instance," he reached over and caressed my right breast gently. "With the overlying flavors of ginger and hot peppers adding some flair." He tweaked my nipple, grinning when I jumped slightly. "Sorry."

"Sure you are," I came back. "Go on with this, I'm finding it very interesting to be compared to a Chinese menu." God help him if he said my face reminded him of Egg Foo Yung or something. "What about the sweet parts? Don't I have a lot of those aspects?"

"Oh sure you do," he answered agreeably, letting go of my breast. His big hand resting palm down on my belly, he leaned over and kissed my belly button, then blew into it, laughing when I squeaked and told him I was ticklish. "See? I think that's sweet - the formidable Agent Kitty is ticklish."

"That doesn't have anything to do with my being good at my job," I grumped. "Nobody will ever get around me on the job by tickling me."

"I bet I could," he grinned wickedly.

"Could not." I ducked to one side when he pounced, "Russell, no fair! Stop it - stop now, I mean it. . ."

Whereupon ensued a long interval of him tickling me until I found out he was ticklish on the sides of his ribcage under his arm. We then tickled one another into breathless exhaustion. After that, there was nothing to do but for him to climb on top of me and give me the Aussie cure for hiccups, which I had as a result of being tickled. "Works every time, luv," he claimed, aiming his cock and sliding it into my very ready body. "Oh, yeah, God, I love how it feels to come into you, Kitty." He began pumping his hips slowly and steadily, twining my hands in his and pressing them down onto the bed on either side of my head. "See, you've already forgotten about those hiccups," he commented.

I could only moan in reply.

Sure enough, after that round of sex, I was hungry enough to eat a bear. Instead, I ordered up from Room Service while Kitty used the shower. When she was done, I jumped in, emerging just in time for two hamburgers with everything and two ice cold beers to arrive. We sat in elegant terry robes, dining on our second supper in less than two hours, both of us starving. "I told you I was hungry," I remarked, practically licking my platter clean.

"I hope the pattern is still on that dish when you've finished licking it," she twitted me, but her's was just as clean, I noticed.

"I've got afters coming," I informed her just as there came another knock on the door. A waiter trundled in another cart, removed our empties and put large bowls of ice cream in front of each of us, both of them drowning in rich, dark chocolate fudge sauce. On the side were bowls of extra fixings - red raspberries, chopped almonds and hazelnuts, candy sprinkles, maraschino cherries and the like. "This is better than Chinese dessert any day," I commented.

The waiter left, shutting the door behind him. "Why is that?" Kitty wanted to know.

"Because after you have your one from column A and your two from column B, you're still hungry, and you do get your cookies, but ice cream beats cookies any day."

She stared at me for a moment, then burst into laughter, shaking her head at me. "What?" I wanted to know.

"You're priceless, Crowe, just priceless. 'Get your cookies' indeed."

"We both did."

Kitty nodded, slurping up ice cream and sauce, raspberries dripping down onto her chin so that I had to lean across and kiss them off. "Yes, we got our cookies - in spades."

"I intend to see that you get your cookies every day for a long, long time," I told her smugly.

She dropped her spoon. "What?"

I nodded, "A long time - the rest of your life, if you'll have me." I removed a small velvet box from a pocket of my robe and set it on the table after opening it. The light glinted nicely off the 2 karat sparkler set in platinum nestled inside it.

She looked from me to the ring, from the ring to me, and back again. I swear, it's the first time I ever saw her at a loss for words.