Coincidence

Beta: Miranda Bell, and further assistance by Dominique

Notes: According to what I've been told, "sex" as New Zealanders pronounce it sounds like "six" to Aussie ears, & "six" in N.Z. pronunciation sounds like "sux." Wordplay ahead, be aware. Also, I've toned it down for easier reading, but one girl has a heavy French-Canadian accent.

* * * * *

Armed with degrees and a year's worth of work experience under their belts, Catherine and Nicola were ready to take their first 'real' vacation. All year they'd been saving up, pooling money. Absolutely, they had a plan. The women, one fine Aussie chick and one naturalized, were partial to a certain actor from a certain neighboring pair of islands. Along with various other activities, including the inevitability of them biting the bullet and going to see Hobbiton, Rivendell, and all the other now-dismantled sites for their own eyes, they would be indirectly, haphazardly, unintentionally looking for him. Or so they told themselves.

If ever there were two girls who were closer friends, the world might never have seen fit to tell of them. Catherine and Nicola met five years before during their first week of university in Sydney. They hit it off so quickly they soon were finishing each other's thoughts and sentences like identical twins or an old, long-married couple. They were both lovely creatures, long past any adolescent gawkiness. Neither could be termed the 'quiet' one or the 'smart' one or the 'funny' one. These were attributes they both possessed.

The girls looked nothing alike. Three generations ago, Catherine's family had been Anglo-Saxon Brit on one side, Scottish on the other, though her features were more of the Celtic cast. She inherited height from both sides. Her soft, wavy hair was not quite red, more auburn, but she considered herself a redhead. Pure green emerald eyes sparkled with easy-going humor.

By contrast, Nicola was barely over five feet tall. She'd grown up in Quebec and had not lost the accent. Her hip-length brown hair contained red, gold and silvery highlights. She had the large, piercing hazel eyes of many mixed French/Native Americans. Like them, she exuded a certain wildness. No one would ever put her in a cage.

Nicola always said she'd seen him first. Maybe that was true, but neither girl had given him any deep thought years ago as bleach-blond Cupid. Cute, but a passing thing. However, when the familiar face appeared in their favorite fantasy film series, volume two, that was it.

They saw him first on the plains of Rohan, hauling his mortally wounded cousin home on horseback. "Karl." They'd breathed simultaneously. The women had had to hold hands throughout the whole Rohan sequence. Cathy recalled wondering if her fingers would be broken as an arrogant, wary Éomer demanded, "What business do an elf, a man, and a dwarf have in the Riddermark?" Well they remembered the manly armor, the easy way he sat a horse, the long Nordic locks, and especially the intense dark eyes that undressed the world with every glance. Sure, they knew those eyes were hazel, but on screen they appeared a deep brown-black like pools of warm, liquid tar. Oh, to just fall in!

Their jet circled and veered east. Catherine, who had never flown before, let out her breath and asked, "You think we'll run into him?"

Not having to ask who 'him' was, Nicola answered, "Would be a major coincidence if we did. The islands aren't that small. Well, we can 'ope, eh?"

"And pray..." Catherine added.

"Famous last words, atheist," said the Canadian native.

"I don't think they'd be my last words at all," Catherine said with a wink. "If you could call, 'Oh god, oh Christ, oh fucking hell' words." Luckily, she had used a good enough sotto voce she was not overheard in their cramped quarters, "And I don't think that counts as prayer, either."

On their third day of sight-seeing and shopping, Nicola got wind of a local beach that was said to be worth going out of the way for. Hearsay was correct. The best friends surfed from early afternoon till the sun set blood-red over the ocean. Nicola's honey brown skin had slowly glazed to deeper shades. The little shack where they'd rented their boards was just about to close when they returned them.

When the beach cleared and they were at last alone, Nicola shucked her aqua bikini top and freed large, dark-tipped breasts. Tall, milky-skinned Catherine had seen her friend naked a hundred times but the woman's perfection never failed to amaze her. Nicola, for all that she was totally oblivious to it, had a body made for sex, with her generous breasts and the sleek little hips that at the moment she was rolling her bottoms down over. Catherine felt she was rather upside down by comparison; in other words small, neatly-formed breasts, and a generously proportioned bum. She shook her head, calling herself silly, and hooted over to her butt-naked best friend, "Nice rack! Don't scare off the wildlife!" Nicola squeezed her own boobs in Catherine's general direction and traipsed down to the waterline.

"Ah, the wildlife," Cathy mused. She and Nic had had their days. Darkness fell as Cathy sat, quietly reminiscing over her raunchier exploits, wrapped in a light blanket, on a large flat-topped boulder. She watched Nic piling sand into a messy fortress. The girl was so child-like sometimes. After nearly half an hour, she climbed back down and selected three burn CD's as soundtrack for the evening. She felt an odd tension, almost like she'd committed some minor infraction and was about to be confronted about it. The dark trance techno she'd chosen, if it worked like it usually did, would help her relax.

The last light breathed its farewell to Nicola as she returned to their impromptu campsite. They'd hiked in with a sleeping bag each, a medium-sized cooler, the CD player, and whatever odds and ends fit into compact day-camp packs. Catherine unrolled a light tarp and was securing the edges with more rocks. "Hey," she greeted her friend. "This should help with the 'sand-in-embarrassing-places' problem."

The French-Canadian grinned. "I'll get ze fire going."

Soon a campfire lit the night and the girls snuggled down on their sleeping bags to watch it. This was one of their rituals, fire-watching. There wasn't a breath of wind; they weren't cold. It was just them and the flames, the sand, and the ocean.

"So, do you think zhere is a god?" Nicola opened their years-long debate after some time.

Catherine watched the crackling flames. She had not changed her position on the subject. Now that she had new ammo, she was going to use it. "If there were a god, he'd give me Karl." She cackled evilly.

"No, I'm supposed to get 'im," Nicola stated, getting up suddenly. She crossed to the cooler and squatted down, still stark naked, to grab fresh beers for them. Catherine couldn't help but admire the view. "We could share though," the first girl went on after a minute.

"Share Karl?" Catherine wondered aloud. "How do you share a man? He's only got one prick."

"Yes, but he's also got two 'ands, a mouth, and a bum. Surely we could find a way." The fire picked up golden glints in her eyes, which studied the red-headed girl for some dissent.

Catherine's peaches-and-cream complexion glowed like an infrared light bulb, even in relative darkness. In Catherine's opinion, even though she hadn't done anything too non-standard, her friend had an untapped kinky side. Once in a while, like this, it would slip out in some offhand remark. Deep down, she enjoyed it, but it still made the Aussie blush. "Well, dibs on his mouth," she said.

"Good!" Nicola retorted. "I get ze best for myself!"

"You're such a pig! There's more to a man than his 'parts.'"

"Yeah, well, like it's gonna 'appen anyway, n'est-ce pas?" Nicola had a point.

"What if it did? We're here... if he walked up to you in the street, would you turn in him down?"

"Oh, no. 'Ell no! I definitely would not turn 'im down."

"Turn who down?"

At the very edge of the light, just barely limned in the orange-red flickers, stood the owner of the low voice. The large, masculine form could've been there for a second or an hour, so quiet had he been. Nicola gasped in surprise and at her nude state but to her credit did nothing more than rise slowly to her feet and ask the stranger, "Wanna beer?" For her part, Catherine simply stared in disbelief. The details became clearer with every unhurried step he took in the girls' direction. His identity was unmistakable. How or why, she would have to find out; otherwise, Catherine's tidy mind answered itself, "This man, here, now, is Karl."

He presented himself with dark brown hair to his shoulders, a neatly trimmed beard, a deep tan set off by all-white clothes. He wore form-fitting button fly jeans and a short-sleeved shirt open all down the front. Catherine's seat put her at eye level with his navel, which did look mysterious in the middle of a patch of belly hair above those low-slung jeans. Fire threw unsteady patterns off his smooth chest. Half the shirt was open enough for Catherine to see one dark, flat nipple set on a subtly sculpted pec. She slowly raised her eyes to his face, almost as if to double-check herself. No, it was unquestionably Karl. He took the bottle from a slightly shaky Nicola and raised it to full, bee-stung looking dusky pink lips. Almond-shaped hazel eyes fringed by thick lashes flashed with amber highlights around their small campsite. Karl jumped slightly as he realized for the first time there was a second woman, one whose eyes were glued unwaveringly to him. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "Two of you!"

This put Catherine at an advantage she refused to let slip through her fingers. Remaining perfectly still, she locked her bright green stare into Karl's. "Well, of course there's two of us. Who did you think she was talking to—herself?"

"I couldn't hear you speaking over DJ Micro, here. I thought she was on a cell."

"Nope," Nicola put in. "She's live." Both girls were impressed he'd heard of their favorite rave artist.

"That's right, and I'm not nearly as naked as my impulsive friend over there. Who are you and what do you want?" It took every measure of self-control she possessed not to goggle at him or drool or something equally undignified. Nicola, on the other hand, had backed up two steps and literally dropped her jaw. Her huge jade-and-gravel eyes, so like Karl's in that regard they could be siblings, widened and darted back and forth between the seated girl and beautiful young man. The hand not occupied with beer gesticulated near-frantically. Catherine took her meaning loud and clear.

"Well, my name's Karl... Karl Urban. I was just out for a walk. I was surfing earlier up the beach a couple miles..." he threw out one corded arm in the general direction of behind himself, to Catherine's right,"...and it got dark before I knew it. I was about to turn back, even though I have no idea where I'm parked, when I saw a light, which happened to be your fire."

"It is dark tonight," Nicola managed, in a hopeful tone.

"No moon," Karl seconded.

"Yeah," Catherine said dryly," except Nicola's, which happens to be a full moon, eh?" She'd picked up the sarcastic use of "eh" from her friend over the years.

Karl tipped the bottle up and took a long swig. Nicola looked at Catherine. She tilted her head slightly, eyebrows raised and a terribly 'significant' look over her features. Catherine gave her a quick nod and raised her own bottle before Karl saw this exchange, or so she hoped.

"So...." Karl's' voice rumbled softly. "She's Nicola and you are...?"

Dazed, dazzled, horned-up stupid... "Catherine."

"Cathy? Or Catherine?"

"Either is fine." Call me whatever you want, baby.

"You don't have any more friends lurking out there in the dark, do you?" he asked.

"No, there's just us. Why? Should we be scared now?" Cathy asked in what she hoped was a bold voice.

"Should I be?" Karl countered. "I wouldn't want to be set upon and ripped to shreds by six angry women or something." He sat down near the firepit, opposite the girls.

"Sux angry women?" Nicola giggled. Catherine elbowed her. "He sucks angry women...? Or they suck him?"

"Nic!" The Aussie smacked the smaller girl on her upper arm. "Shut up! It's his accent. He said 'six.'"

"I don't have an accent," Karl smirked. "You have an accent. And so no, I've never had sex, or 'sux,' with six angry women."

"Oooh!" Nicola hooted, before Catherine could stop her. "You never 'ad six either? You poooor man! You're deprived. Mon dieu! Well, Catherine is the expert at sux, or so I've 'eard..."

The Aussie woman threw in the towel with being semi-proper. Karl's eyes turned to her, interestedly. Warmth ignited in her mid-section and stole outwards from there. "So I've been told," she allowed. What the fuck? She'd just told a complete stranger, regardless of who he was, 'Guess what? I give good head.' Gott in Himmel, as her grandma used to say.

Karl stood up and jammed his fists in his front pockets. "Maybe I'll take you up on that later. Right now I gotta take a piss. And I stink. Nicola, you want to take a short swim? I want to ask you something." His eyes promised much more than that.

"What, now?"

"Why not?" He turned and walked toward the ocean. "Coming?" he threw back in their direction.

"Oh, mon dieu, yeah," breathed Nicola. She was just about to follow when...

"Nicola!" Catherine laid an urgent hand on the small brown shoulder.

"What?"

"You go, but bring him back here."

"What do you mean?" Nicola was shivering, not from cold, though, and Catherine could tell she was desperate to go after Karl.

"You guys get cleaned up or whatever you gotta do, and then you get back here. I wanna see you... you know. Even if I don't get to touch him at all, I gotta see... Please, Nicola!"

"You want to watch?"

"I'll take what I can get."

Nicola laughed at her. "You're a voyeur. Wants to watch her friend get laid."

Catherine squirmed in embarrassment and Nicola in sheer arousal. "I'm going now," the Canadian girl said pointedly.

"Nic..."

"Ok, I'll see what I can do."

If she hadn't been so lethargic from the beer and her from participation in the small melodrama, Catherine would have been pacing. 'Do you want to go for a swim, NICOLA?' What the hell was that? She was most annoyed. Not only had she been left behind, now she probably stood no chance of seeing what she wasn't getting. So much for sharing. Peeved, yes, and she almost wanted to cry, self-pity and a ridiculous sense of loss pouring from her soul. Before any real offer had been made, she's already been slapped down, or so it seemed.

Catherine sat staring into the fire, trying not to hear any betraying noises from the water. Ten minutes of this, and she had just decided to lie down and try to sleep. Who knew how long the other two would be gone? Then, to her astonishment, they reappeared. Both drenched to the skin with slicked back hair, they'd been in the water all right. Their skin gleamed with droplets as they drew nearer.

When they'd marched up to the edge of the firepit, the most amazing thing happened. Nicola circled behind Karl. She was so short, nothing of her could be seen except her lithe arms coming around Karl's sides. In time to the techno beat, one hand caressed up and down his lean stomach, down the furry line; the other went straight for the button on his tight, and now soaking wet jeans. An obvious erection swelled under his fly, slowly revealed as his other buttons came undone under Nicola's fingers. Not saying a word, she steadily worked open the wet denim, then began the task of getting the jeans off him. Near-black pubic curls rimmed the base of his cock, which stood straight out, in fact pointed a bit upwards, heavy and veiny. It was big, at least eight inches, Catherine thought from where she was sitting. Nicola's little hand gave the impression of being miniature, wrapped around the thick cylinder, stroking languidly, while Karl looked amazed at being put on display like that.

"Kneel," commanded Nicola's voice from behind Karl. He dropped to his knees in the sand, jeans still down no further than mid-thigh.

Now Nicola was revealed. She looked tiny above Karl's incredibly wide shoulders. Looking Catherine in the eye with a hint of merriment she said, "'E's on to you. Go ahead, have him. 'E's yours." Her slim fingers curled into loose, thick hair. Nicola swayed, her lithe hips gyrating slowly, smoothly, like a sylph. Karl turned his head and rubbed his cheek against her bare skin.

"But, what about you?" Catherine asked, bewildered. Surely her insides would melt at the sight of him nuzzling into Nicola's cleavage, his slick cherry tongue dancing circles around each puffy areola.

"I'm sure there is more for me, later. I give him to you."

"Come on, you girls," Karl said in a mock-whining voice. "I'm starting to feel like a piece of meat."

"Aren't you?" Nicola asked. Karl couldn't see her face, but Catherine could. A huge shit– eating grin was plastered on it.

"No, you first, Nicola. I insist." What was she saying? This was insane. She heard herself continue, "You know I'm a firm believer in saving the best for last."

Nicola was too turned on to be insulted, or she understood there was none intended. Hardly. "Thank you so much, sweetie!"

Catherine steeled herself. She was going to have her request fulfilled, it seemed. Suddenly Karl whipped his upper body around and grabbed Nicola. In the next blink, the brown-haired girl was on her knees on the tarp with Karl looming over her, behind her, his knee forcing her thighs apart. In the firelight, Catherine could make out glistening moisture on the insides of Nicola's thighs and at the tip of Karl's cock, which appeared between them seconds later. He looked huge compared to the wild-eyed girl he was about to impale. One hand around Nicola's waist, he threw off his shirt with the other giving Catherine full view of his primal, muscular body, from solid shoulders down to bunched abs over Nicola's bent back.

A curtain of fine, water-spangled brown hair flew out to the side. Nicola twisted sideways in the same direction and looped an arm up and around Karl's neck. Her wide lips fastened to the tender spot where his shoulder and throat met. Karl captured her pointed chin in one large hand and tilted her head back, way back. Catherine's guts lurched. In the dancing orange light, suspended in a stuck moment, the two on the other side of the fire kissed zealously. Their heads moved side to side, tongues delved deep; the man's generous lips opened Nicola's mouth wider still in further exploration. The girl's slender neck arched as she strained upwards. Karl's eyes shut, rendering a perfect crescent of sable lashes on his cheeks.

"Baise-moi!" came Nic's demanding cry. She had pulled her mouth away. Catherine was well aware of how the small woman's bottom was squirming back against Karl's groin. Every wriggle and curl was one she felt in the small of her back, in the same place one feels their first rush of arousal. When Karl's eyelids snapped open, he pinned her where she sat with a deceptively innocent expression.

Then, reaching down between himself and the French-Canadian girl, he tucked his ass under and pushed. Nicola cried out hoarsely, wordlessly, her head thudding unto his chest. Karl answered with a grunt and began a steady, forceful bounce. Her small body tucked underneath his much larger powerful one, Nicola started to yip with every hard thrust. Catherine might've laughed at the noises they made if it didn't make her so fucking horny. Her own juices flowed freely from her quivering, clenching pussy; she gritted her teeth against the pain its emptiness was causing her. Two pairs of predatory, lust-glazed eyes were fixed on her. She didn't know how to meet them both, how to deal with the sight of their bodies slapping together rhythmically, of the threshing, grinding, gyrating of Karl's hips and he ripped up her friend from behind, or of the girl's distended pussy lips, stuffed full of cock, and her bouncing breasts. Catherine was on overload. If she moved, she'd cum just from watching. Karl sunk his teeth into Nicola's shoulder, still watching Catherine. The other girl shrieked. Her little barks turned to harsh, breathy squeals.