The museum closed at six. Selina arrived at two in the morning. She was on the roof, crouching next to a skylight. It was the second weakest point in the museum's security. The first meant crawling through sixty feet of ventilation ducts. The skylight was riskier, but more dignified.

Breaking into places was how she made a living. But tonight had nothing to do with money. It was entirely personal.

Selina opened her backpack and pressed a glass lifter firmly against one of the panes. She scored around the edges with a cutter and freed the section with a gentle pull. She set it aside and looked down into the atrium.

Directly below, she could see the lobby's mounted Tyrannosaurus rex skeleton. The display base it sat on was above the alarm grid that protected the floor, making it a safe place to land.

She’d tied one end of her rope around the waist of a gargoyle, then fed the rest through the opening she created until it hung a few feet above the T-Rex. Selina slapped on her leather gloves, then planted a boot on either side of the skylight. She gave the rope a strong tug. The knot didn’t budge. Neither did the gargoyle. Satisfied, she began to lower herself into the museum.

It didn’t take more than thirty seconds. She came down without making so much as a sound, then looked up at the skylight and smiled. Front doors were overrated.

She’d staked the place out during the day, but everything felt different in the middle of the night. Earlier, it was full of class trips and tourists crowding around the dinosaur for pictures. Now it was silent. She’d have the place to herself. At least until he showed up, assuming he wasn’t already waiting for her.

Selina pulled the night-vision goggles from her forehead and lowered them to her eyes. Now she could see the infrared beams of the alarm system crisscrossing the hall in every direction. For the average person, even knowing they were there wouldn’t help much. But there was nothing average about Selina.

She studied the pattern and worked out the cleanest path to the main corridor. Once she had it committed to memory, she took a deep breath and went for it. Selina took a running jump from the base, cleared the first fifteen feet of the room, and stuck the landing perfectly. She slipped between two beams, pivoted beneath another, then leapt sideways onto a safe strip of tile that was no wider than her boot.

To get past the next section, she back-flipped over two consecutive beams, then stopped on a dime. If she edged even an inch further, the alarm would have sounded.

The last part was the hardest. She sprinted as far as she could and leapt. Midair, she curled herself into a ball, bringing her knees to her chest. She sailed over one beam while she kept her head tucked low enough to avoid another. When she landed, she slid across the floor, narrowly missing the final trigger, then came up standing.

She looked back at the room from the safety of the corridor. “Not bad,” she said to herself. From there it was an easy walk to the twentieth-century exhibit hall.

The gallery looked bigger than it did that afternoon, probably because the crowd was gone. She knew where she was going. Nothing could distract her. Not the piano Elton John wrote “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” on. Not even the sketched napkin signed by Picasso. Selina only had one thing in mind tonight.

She spotted the painting displayed on the wall at the far side of the room and went straight toward it. All of her preparation was about to pay off.

“You know I’m going to stop you, right?”

She didn’t have to look. She knew it was Nathan.

“I know you’re going to try,” she said. “But this won’t be like Monaco.”

“Still bitter about that?”

“It was a rare win for you. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Does that mean no fucking this time?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Good, then let’s get this part out of the way.”

“This one’s not what you think, Nathan. It’s not a job.”

“It’s always a job.”

“Not tonight.”

He didn’t believe her. He had every reason not to, but she said it with such conviction it made him curious. Between that and the look in her eyes, Nathan thought maybe this was something different.

“I'm not buying it, but I’ll humour you. Go on, what’s so special about this?”

Selina moved closer to the painting. Nathan mirrored her, instinctively placing himself between her and the frame.

“Do you know who this is?” she said, pointing to the painting.

“You know I don’t know anything about art.”

“Not the artist. The baby in the picture.”

“No clue.”

“It’s my great-grandmother.”

Nathan looked at the baby. It was impossible to see any kind of resemblance, but it did have a tuft of black hair, just like all the women in Selina’s family had.

“How?” he asked.

“The artist is Paul Klee. My family lived next door to him in Munich. When she was born, he painted her. It was a gift for the family.”

Selina tried another step. Again, Nathan stuck with her. He knew from experience how quick she could be.

“How’d it end up here then?”

“Stolen in 1937. The Nazis hated Klee. They labelled him a degenerate and confiscated his works, no matter who had them. Galleries, private collections. It didn’t matter. They took it all."

He knew better than to trust her, but this almost sounded like too much to be a lie, even from her.

“That’s one hell of a story, but–”

"My grandmother grew up hearing about her mother being painted by Klee," she said. "This is it. Right here. I'm doing this for her. Before, you know..." She looked Nathan square in the eyes. "She doesn't have time left for court battles and all that. She should have it. It rightfully belongs to her."

Nathan shook his head. He didn’t want to believe her, but he couldn’t ignore the emotion in her voice. If this was a con, she was doing a damn good job of selling it.

“You’re not bullshitting me, are you?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“I told you, it isn’t a job. I’m evening the score.”

He looked at the painting again, hoping a closer look might make her story easier to believe. It didn't. But Selina didn’t get like this over money. There was something more going on.

“Fuck,” he said. “For once I don’t think you’re lying.”

“You hate it when I make you think.”

“It’s a lot easier when you do what you do, and your parents pay me to keep you out of prison.”

“They don’t care about prison. They’re just worried what getting caught would do to the family name.”

The two of them stood in silence for a few moments. They were only a few feet apart. The painting hung between them like a witness. He hated that she might be right, or at least that he believed her. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

“You know what this would mean to my grandmother.” Her whole demeanour softened as she said it.

Nathan’s hand went to his face and stroked his beard. He’d never heard Selina plead like this before. She didn't show weakness.

“You’re really trying to right some ninety-year-old wrong by stealing a stolen painting that probably ended up here because some rich fuck bought confiscated art from the Nazis?”

She shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, basically.”

“That’s one hell of a Tuesday night.”

“Early Wednesday morning, actually.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes. He was really starting to wonder if her grandmother deserved the painting more than the museum did. Her parents probably wouldn’t fire him. It wasn’t like anyone else could do this job.

“I’ve got to think about this.”

“You usually do your best thinking after sex.”

“Unfortunately, a museum isn’t exactly a hotel room.”

“There is a bed,” she said, pointing to an exhibit across the room.

Nathan glanced over at it and shook his head. “No. Not John and Yoko’s love-in bed.”

A smile crept over Selina’s face.

“We can’t,” Nathan said firmly.

“I don’t know,” she said mischievously. “I think we could.”

“We shouldn’t.”

“I have a feeling a lot of things we shouldn’t do are going to happen tonight.”

She could tell that she was winning him over, and didn’t give him time to back out. She gave him a playful push, then turned and sprinted toward the bed.

“Catch me if you can!”

He almost hated himself for giving in again, but knew it would be worth it.

Selina reached the bed first and spun around just as he caught her by the waist. The momentum carried them both backward onto the mattress.

“I knew you’d follow,” she said, unzipping the front of her catsuit.

“You don’t exactly play fair,” Nathan replied, looking down at her breasts.

Selina caught him by the back of the neck and pulled him in for a kiss. As her tongue slipped past his lips, Nathan pulled at the collar of the catsuit and started working it down over one shoulder, then the other. The leather stuck to her like skin, resisting every tug. Selina laughed as he wrestled with it.

"Having trouble?" she taunted. Selina made no effort to help him. She was going to make him earn it.

"You could help."

"Where’s the fun in that?"

Nathan cut her off with another kiss. Inch by inch, he peeled the rest of the leather down her body until it came free.

“There you go,” she said. “Now it’s your turn.”

Selina watched as Nathan pulled himself up onto his knees. He had his shirt over his head before he was even upright. His pants came off next, a lot faster than hers did. Partly because they were denim. Mostly because he finally had her naked.

Nathan got back on top of her so quickly it made her laugh again.

“Not so fast,” she said. “You still owe me for Monaco.”

“That was professional. This is personal,” he said.

“It definitely is.”

“I’ll stop if you want.” His words didn't match the way his hand caressed her breast, or how his thumb skimmed the tip of her nipple, making her quiver. Selina turned her head to the side and bit her knuckle, hoping he didn’t notice.

“It cost me half a million.”

“What did?”

“Monaco.”

“You ever going to let that go?”

“Maybe.”

Nathan sighed. “How do I make it up to you?”

"I know where you should start." She grinned, nudging him lower as she spread her legs for him.

Nathan kissed his way down her stomach until he settled between her thighs. The faint smell of leather was still there, now mixed with sweat and arousal.

Selina hooked a leg over his shoulder as Nathan held the other in place. He lowered his mouth and started by giving her long, slow licks.

“Mmmm,” she moaned. “That’s it.”

He dragged his tongue from the base of her cleft all the way up to her swollen clit. Selina raised her hips off the mattress to meet his mouth.

“From now on, this is how I expect you to say sorry.”

Nathan kept her thigh pinned down as he continued to work her with his tongue, exploring her most sensitive places.

"Oh god," she panted, pushing her head back into the pillows. Selina’s composure started to slip away, replaced by urgency. She bucked and lifted her hips to force more pressure against his mouth.

"Nathan – don’t stop, wait, I'm going to–"

He didn’t slow down. Instead, he picked up the pace, flicking his tongue more quickly and pressing his lips into her more firmly.

“Fuck!” she yelled. The shout echoed through the empty halls of the museum.

Nathan moved to climb on top of her, but Selina planted her foot against his chest to stop him. She slipped out from under him until they were face to face. After stealing a quick kiss, she pushed Nathan back onto the bed.

“You always want to be on top,” he said.

“I always am. On top and one step ahead.”

Selina straddled his hips, hovering above him. She took his cock in her hand and rubbed the tip against her pussy. She let out a long moan as she lowered herself onto him, allowing his cock to fill her completely. She pressed her hands against his chest and looked down at him.

“You don’t deserve this,” she said. “But I need it.”

She began to move, lifting herself up and sliding back down in a slow, repeating motion. She kept her eyes locked on his, teasing him with a smile.

“You’re up to something,” he said.

“Yeah, getting fucked,” she said. “In John Lennon’s bed, no less.”

“No, something else.” A hint of doubt started to creep into his mind.

“You’re always so suspicious,” she said. “This is supposed to be the fun part.”

She lowered herself closer to him. Selina took one of his hands in hers and placed it on her breast, nodding.

“See? Now this one is lonely,” she said, tapping her opposite breast. “Give it a kiss.” She leaned forward, bringing it halfway to his lips.

As his tongue lapped at her nipple, Selina’s free hand slid beneath the pillow behind Nathan’s head. She felt around until she found them – the most important part of her plan, placed there earlier in the day when she cased the museum.

Nathan looked over at the painting. Why did it make him think of New Mexico?

“Just like that,” she said, returning his attention to her. “Keep licking.”

Selina still had his hand held against her breast when she suddenly changed her grip. Her fingers clamped around his forearm. Before he understood what was happening, Nathan felt cold metal slap against his wrist, followed by the clicking sound of handcuffs locking.

He tried to shoot forward, but Selina held him down.

"What the fuck!”

She forced his arm back until it hit the headboard. By the time he realized what she'd done, the second cuff snapped shut around the bed frame.

Selina leapt backward, clearing the bed in a single motion, landing on her feet just beyond Nathan's reach.

“Selina!” Nathan yelled, yanking at the restraint.

“This is for Monaco.”

“What?”

“Don’t you ever fuck me out of a half million dollars ever again.”

“Your parents pay me–”

“I don’t care what they pay you to do,” she yelled. “It was half a million dollars, Nathan!”

New Mexico hit him again. This time he knew why.

“Not Munich,” he said. “Your mother’s family is from–"

“Albuquerque. Never even set foot in Germany.”

“Jesus Christ…”

Selina was already half dressed. As angry as he was, Nathan couldn’t help but watch as she squeezed herself back into the tight leather.

“You’re going to let me go, right?”

“No,” she said.

“You’ve made your point, Selina.”

“Sorry, but this one’s gotta sting.”

“You can't just leave me like this.” He was trying to stay calm, but there was more than just a hint of panic in his voice. “What the fuck am I supposed to say when security finds me naked and handcuffed?”

“I don't know.” She shrugged. “Maybe tell them you're a really big Beatles fan?”

“Selina...”

“Not my problem, Nathan.”

She zipped the catsuit closed and ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back into place. She took one last look around the room, making sure she wasn’t leaving anything other than Nathan behind.

There was nothing more to say to him. Not today. She turned and took her victory walk back to the atrium.

“You know,” Nathan called after her, still pulling at the handcuffs, “this relationship has some serious trust issues.”

She glanced back over her shoulder. “Probably.”

Before leaving the hall, Selina took one last look at the Picasso napkin. She already had buyers in mind for it. The fact that it would more than cover her expenses for the night made it worth considering.

“Nah,” she said to herself. “I got what I came for.”