Author's Notes: I'd like to say a big, massive thank you to Sam for her pearls of wisdom and continual encouragement...a choccie covered Scottie's on his way. Also thank you to Gilly for all her support.

Raucous laughter from the sofa; a snort, a gasp and the laughter subsides. Smiling, I continue tying blue silk ribbon. A surprise. Well, that's what I'm hoping, after the events of last year with Eddie this has to be an improvement. I glance at the reason for the laughter.

Dressed as a peasant, Michael Palin, his hands buried in horse manure, is telling King Arthur why he thinks the people of Britain do not need a monarchy. The King tries without success to justify the monarchy's existence with the story of how Excalibur came into his grasp from the lady of the lake.

"Listen, strange women lying in ponds, distributing swords is no basis for a system. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate of the masses, not some farcical aquatic ceremony." My stomach tenses, my mouth curves. I giggle to myself and you're laughing.

"Tin-Tin, come and watch this. It's just the best. Come on..." Sky-blue eyes meet mine. It's the puppy-dog look; my stomach tenses again, this time not from laughter. A smile reveals perfect white, your hand beckons. My throat tightens; thoughts of last night returning and my cheeks redden.

"I'll be there in a moment, Alan." The box I'm holding jolts. A faint whine; I cough, hiding the evidence. Sky-blue eyes narrow, head tilts.

"What's in there?"

I blank, nearly revealing all, but the words "You yellow bastard!" and "I'll bite your legs off!" draw your attention. Thank you 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail'.

And thank you Scott, for the idea, great present...

I concentrate on cardboard box and ribbon. A tiny snout appears, nudging through one air hole, disappears, then reappears.

"Just five more minutes, little one." I whisper the words; press a finger through a hole and stroke soft, fuzzy skin.

Memories of Eddie again; that's what you called him, and I know why. 'Eddie Alligator' was last year's birthday present. You'd just returned from a rescue, fighting Eddie's giant relations.

The irony still makes me laugh, you fighting alligators, me buying you one.

The look on your face was one of surprised horror; Eddie, wriggling in your bath, legs flying in all directions. You weren't that keen at first. None of you were, except Gordon, who often took the poor little thing into the pool, a disapproving Grandma Tracy always watching...

Can feel you looking again, eyes boring through me.

"Tin-Tin, please come and watch." Your voice softens. "I want you next to me." Looking over, your eyebrows raised, that smile... I run a hand across my stomach as warmth grows inside.

"Five minutes...then I'm yours." Flutter eyelashes, flash a seductive smile; hear your throaty growl of appreciation. You turn to the screen as the Knights of the Round Table are introduced. John Cleese as Sir Lancelot, should be a riot.

Back to thinking of Eddie; after a few months he became a member of the family, even Grandma had a soft spot for the little reptile. Then it happened. Still brings tears to my eyes. I was tidying your bedroom, Grandma cleaning the bathroom, the toilet flushed and I heard a cry. Grandma rushed as fast as Grandma could into the bedroom, toilet brush in hand, and spoke those awful words...

"It was an accident, an accident." Her eyes welling.

"What, Grandma? What's happened?"

"I flushed him down the toilet. One minute he was watching from the sink, next minute...oh, Tin-Tin."

We waited for hours by that toilet, hoping he'd come back...

Your voice calls, distracting me. Ignoring the lump in my throat, box under arm, I move towards the sofa. Engrossed in 'God's' speech instructing the knights to seek the Holy Grail, you ask, "Who's that standing next to what's his name? The one with that thing in his hand. You know who I mean."

Stop just behind you, mind trying to find an answer to your impossible question.

My god Alan, we're not playing this game again are we? What was it this morning while I was taking a shower?

"Tin-Tin? Tin-Tin?"

"Yes, Alan." Water beating down my lathered, naked body.

"What's the name of that woman singer? You know, the one who sings that song. It's got Christmas in it. Oh God, how does it go?"

"Errrr...I don't know, Alan, but at least we've established it's a woman, that narrows it down," I shout above the noise of falling water to Alan in the bedroom. And while I'm at it why don't I recite Hamlet...backwards!

Smile at the memory; my hand glides gently through golden hair, fingertips caress your neck; my eyes take in broad, strong shoulders.

"I don't know who it is, Alan, but I have something for you." I have your attention, leaning over the sofa; placing the box tied with blue ribbon next to you. Feel a hand on my back, rubbing gently; the touch is warm. I gasp, and the heat like warm syrup grows through me.

"You're spoiling me, Tin-Tin. Another birthday pressie?" Not so innocent look as you reach over, lips pressing softly against mine and I respond. The box jolts; you pull away, the moment gone. I smile at your worried expression.

"Tin-Tin, what have you bought me?"

"Open it and find out," I say, excited but nervous, hoping you'll like her.

There's something shuffling inside as you lift the object onto your knee, your eyes widen. Fingers undo the ribbon and you peer inside. An explosion from the television distracts just for a second as the lid shoots open, a mop of hair appears and two brown almond shaped eyes stare at you. A tiny yelp as your strong hand scoops a miniature thirteen week old pup from her hiding place.

My stomach is taut, feeling like an elastic band about to snap; I'm watching. You're examining her, not quite sure what she is. There are portions of hair on the tail and feet; I smile, thinking they resemble thick woolly socks. You're stroking the hairless body; a pink tongue licks your fingers and you smile. Sitting on the arm of the sofa, I watch you bonding. She's inches from your face; brushing her warm soft body against your cheek. You look at me.

"Very cute, Tin-Tin, thanks." Moving towards me, I slide next to you, feel the heat as our thighs brush; your hand plays with my hair. Glance at the puppy, she's like putty in your hand. I know that feeling.

"Okay Tin-Tin, what is she?" Your hand works slowly down my half covered back, palm hot against soft skin. I hear noises from the screen but they do not make sense, mind is blank; all I feel is searching lips on my neck, heat growing between my legs. The smallest whimper from the pup distracts and I gently push you away.

"Not now, Alan." I giggle. You're disappointed; but rather than be mad at me, you lift the puppy; stare into two tiny innocent eyes.

"Mmmm, I can see Jess coming between us." Said with mock hurt. I laugh, liking the name 'Jess', and scratch her head.

"She's a Chinese Crested Hairless Dog. It was either that or one from the same family called a Powderpuff." Looking at raised eyebrows, you're starting to grin. "At least this way you can say what breed Jess is without her sounding like she came from Lady Penelope's vanity case." You give a throaty laugh and pull me against you, place Jess carefully on muscular thighs.

"She's great, I love her." Eyes are blazing, saying what you never tell me, lips inches from mine. I feel your breath on my face, hand stroking my cheek, brushing down my neck. My heart pounds, hot blood rushing through my veins as your fingers touch my breast.

"Alan." It's a whisper, your touch hot, your eyes burning into me. My hand works under your tee-shirt, finding tense muscles; I hear an intake of breath and you shudder.

Hear a growl, a yelp and patter of tiny paws. Glancing towards the sounds I whisper, "Alan, you better check on Jess."

Turning reluctantly, you see the puppy sitting in a puddle on top of the 'Monty Python' DVD case, amongst bits of box and torn ribbon.

"I guess she's not house trained then?" You pick her up, her little legs dangling in the air.

"No, Alan, that's your job." Knowing full well I'll be the one training, I begin to clear up the mess. Men! Sometimes I wonder how they would survive without women; the world would fall apart. Can't tell them that, though. But even while I'm shaking my head, I smile.

Sometime later, the mess cleaned up, Jess is settled on a cushion and we're lying on the sofa watching the final scenes. You're trying to concentrate on a killer white rabbit that's about to be blown apart by a grenade; my hand wanders under your tee-shirt, now it's me trying to distract. Feel warmth from your stomach, stroke golden hair. I find your belly button; circle it with my middle finger, my other hand pulls at your shirt. Your hands move behind your head, hearing a soft moan I glance up, seeing your eyes shut, your lips parted. Gazing into your belly button, I know what I'm looking for. There it is, that fluffy substance, fascinated by the mystery of its appearance, I gently dip my middle finger inside. Rubbing with the tip, determined to remove it; I feel your stomach tensing. You're laughing; your leg rises, falling against the sofa. I continue rubbing.

"Tin-Tin, stop, that tickles...Tin-Tin, please." I ignore you, intent on my quest, like King Arthur and his Grail. My nail finally traps and removes the fluff. You're curious, straining to see, restricted by my arms on your stomach. "What's that you've found?"

Examining closely, pretending I've found something new, I quash my laughter. "Well, I just discovered my boyfriend collects belly button lint." Body weakened by laughter, I'm pulled under you, navel fluff lost as you pin my hands above my head.

"Miss Tin-Tin Kyrano, are you laughing at me?" I feel you against me, eyes searching. My chest tightens, catching the smell of your after shave. My voice is soft.

"Me, laugh at you on your birthday...? Never."

"Mmmm, that's right, it's my birthday...don't you have another...present...for me?" Your reply is sensual; I feel your heat intensify, your breathing grows heavy.

"Yes I do, Alan." Your lips on my neck, hand moving up my thigh; you lift my leg and find me moist, waiting. White mist behind my eyes, my body like a furnace; I pull at your shirt. The DVD, the sleeping pup and your belly button lint is forgotten; a trail of clothes leads to the bedroom... and you receive a birthday present of a completely different nature.