A Veil of Sky, A Bed of Earth

"Your fella? If you say so love. How about getting off this mountain before we freeze us bits off. He'll have to park up by road and we've got torches. He'll not miss us." She didn't believe for a second he was actually coming but Emily was on a high. It would be cruel to pop that balloon.

"We must part for now. You go down."

Brenda protested several times. They'd be much safer in one group, but the Emily was having none of it. The couple had no choice but to agree and they resigned themselves descending alone. Just as they were about to set off, Emily called out to her.

"When you find him, seduce him. Bewitch him as you do all men."

"Ok, will do, pet." shouted back Brenda.

As they started down Ted said, "Will you?"

"I might at that, what's it to you?" Brenda laughed. "Bah, it's not like his coming anyhow."

When they got back to the van, there was an empty Ford Fiesta parked next to it. Brenda knew instantly whose car it was.

"Well, I'll be," said Ted. "Here he is. Or near abouts. We didn't miss him on the peak. He'll be around somewhere."

"Well, I'm knackered for one. We'll wait in the van. He's bound to come back eventually."

5. The Chase

Neville had been to and fro from this spot all evening. He'd driven there before dark, just to get an idea of the lay of the land and to scout things out. Then it'd been tea-time and he'd had to head back. His mam had wanted him to put some stuff up in the attic afterward which had taken some time. He'd then headed out on the pretence of going round to his mates for some couch co-op gaming. Just as he was getting out of the car at the spot, his mam had called and asked him to get milk from the Co-Op before it closed. The Co-Op was next door to his friend's, but a forty-minute round trip from this bit of the moors. His mam being his mam, she'd be calling back every fifteen minutes to make sure he didn't forget. He swore to himself, but he set off back to town. They'd been no-one there anyway. Then he'd had to stop for petrol on the way back. When he arrived here for the third time in nearly four hours, there was a white van parked up in a secluded area, but no-one around, least of all his crush. He got out to go and see if anything was happening off the beaten-track.

He wanted to know what Brenda's game was. She'd been so helpful with the boots and she'd meant something with all that nodding and winking, though God knew what. It involved Emily in some strange way, but he couldn't see why she'd be out here of an evening. It didn't make much sense, but he wasn't going to let even a chance in a million slip through his fingers.

He'd considered about watching the bookstore, waiting to see if Emily left and then follow her, but then decided that was a bit stalkerish. He already felt bad enough about following her earlier today. He'd been milling around town, having picked up a paper from the news-agent and seen he heading down Park Street. He hadn't exactlynot been going that way, and his feet had just followed her of their own accord -- more or less. And then when she'd gone into the shoe-shop, it had just been curiosity that led him to have a nose in. On reflection, his behaviour was tending towards the creepy. He'd have to watch that. No laying in wait for her outside her place of work was a step too far, though now he thought on it, he wasn't sure why laying in wait in the middle of a wood in the darkness was any better. No, hang on, he did know - he'd been invited after all. That was it.

As he reached the edge of the trees he heard music coming from up on the peak. Kids, no doubt, they'd be the only one's crazy enough to hang out up there. He'd been up there at night himself, during his sixth form days -- just the once though, it was more a cool kids thing. He'd always been the outcast, at school and at university. He'd watched as each of his friends paired off, copped off and lost their virginity. None of the had ever happened to him. He'd always supposed it would naturally. Now, increasingly, he was coming to the realization that he was going to have to make it happen. If only he knew how. He had to admit it probably didn't involve buying three-hundred pound boots, but that was more of a positive step than not buying the boots. This year he was determined to at least get an A for effort.

He'd delivered the boots earlier in the day. He'd wrapped them and the note had taken him ages working out exactly how to say what he wanted. He'd put them by the front door step, so they wouldn't be missed. A player would have given them to her directly. No, he corrected, himself, a player wouldn't have needed to buy a pair of expensive boots. It didn't occur to him that a player might not be that interested in Emily in the first place.

He checked his phone. It was well past-midnight. Whatever was supposed to have happened either hadn't or he'd missed it. He assumed it was the latter. It was the story of his life. He wandered back to his car.

As he got back to the road he saw the inside light on in the van. Brenda was there, as was a man. With anyone else, he'd have naturally said it was their husband. Brenda being Brenda, you couldn't assume. The van flashed its lights at him. He went over.

"Evening," he said as she wound the window down. "Seen Emily?"

"Yeah, we've seen a lot of her tonight, haven't we?" Brenda nudged her husband. The way they were smiling suggested some secret, shared joke. If so, it was undoubtedly mucky. Neville didn't want to think about the possible implications. Several flashed through his mind before he shut them down.

"So, she around?" said Neville, trying and failing to play it cool.

Brenda opened the door and got out. Despite being nearly a foot shorter, she somehow still managed to loom over Neville. "She'll be round soon as she's ready. Thing is, she said we was to start without you. Get you all warmed up like." She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

Neville looked in horror at her hand and then in fear up at the husband sitting up in the van watching. Her relaxed -- marginally. The man didn't seem excited, nor did he seem about to punch his lights out. It was more curiosity, waiting to see if Neville would take the bait. There'd been a time when he wouldn't have minded being seduced by an older woman, even if Brenda wasn't exactly fantasy material. She'd was the same age as his mam. They'd were in the same year at school. This seemed tacky. Worse, with Emily on his mind, it seemed flat out wrong.

"I doubt it," he said, but uncertainly. Was this all a trap? Maybe Emily was miles away, tucked away safely in bed. Maybe this Brenda had called him out here on false pretences, to get her way with him. Why him? Spring chicken or Christmas turkey, the offer of free sex would have men queueing up all the way to the Lancashire border, wouldn't it? Men a whole lot more masculine than him.

"Now don't be like that," she said and her other hand snaked around to trousers. "Why don't we get you out and ready for when your lass gets here?"

Neville froze and Brenda's hand lingered. His cock twitched in spite of himself. Not a moment ago, he had been feeling sorry for himself. He'd never been with a woman. It would be so easy to give in -- get it done, get it over with. If what Brenda said was true then when Emily turned up they'd be doing exactly what she wanted, and if what she said was false then Emily would never know. But then, if what she said was true, then Emily wasn't the Emily his soul longed for and if it was false, and, by some miracle, they did get together in the future, he'd always have this lie hanging over him. These mental calculations became all the harder as the testosterone flooded through him and when the harlot leaned up to nibble his ear, he was nearly lost.

"You!" he said pulling back suddenly, "You're just like what me mam said."

That stopped the onslaught. Brenda looked genuinely hurt and suddenly the temptress was gone, replaced with a middle age woman acutely aware of her social standing. "What? What did say about me?"

In truth, all his mam had said, once he'd mentioned his encounter in the shoe-shop was 'That Brenda, she's no better than she should be', a common utterance of distain that could mean almost anything. "No, she just...I mean...Leave me alone. I'm saving meself. For her."

But even as he said the words, he realized that Brenda wasn't looking at him anymore, but instead looking behind him. He turned.She had arrived.

She wore only the boots he had bought her - from the knee up she was entirely unclad. He'd dreamed about her naked body every night since he had met her. His fantasies barely touched the reality. Her legs, her hips, her breasts, even her shoulders and neckline, were absolutely stunning. Her hair blew free in the wind. She moved toward him. Come to think of it, he'd never seen her move. She'd always been seated there behind the counter. Now she moved like a cat, all confidence and hips. Then, about a hundred meters from them, she stopped.

"Well done. You passed. I'm yours," she said with an arch smile, but then she turned to face the other direction. "If you can catch me, of course", she shouted over her shoulder.

Then she was off, running the opposite direction along the road. She started off fast, slowed for a moment as she seemed to realize that chase had not been given, and then dashed forward and away. Neville stood routed to the spot.

Brenda pushed him forward, "Off ye go, ye daft bugger."

Then Neville found himself running too. The road was little more than a dirt track, stones and pot-holes making it difficult going. She outpaced him initially. She seemed crazy with excitement, while Neville was still getting used to the idea that he was expected to run. As they came out of the tiny wood, she jumped a ditch and was off across the moors. Neville, ever cautious, stopped to check the dimensions of the ditch and, though a good leap would have gotten him across with no problems, he'd lost momentum now and had to gingerly step from bank to bank.

All this meant she had a good head-start on him, but now, on a clear flat section, with the adrenaline starting to flow, he gradually caught up. He had, in fits and starts, made some effort to stay healthy during his university-years, but when final exams had approached, he'd let it slide and not gotten back into the habit. He was regretting that, but still, there was no way he was letting her get away. He considered putting on a burst of speed and trying to end this quickly, but he decided against it. It would be too easy to wind himself. Instead he settled in to a rhythm, playing the longer game. He watched her seeing exactly where she went and where she was slowed by some unseen hindrance beneath the grass.

She suddenly changed direction, thirty degrees to the left, and why wasn't entirely clear to Neville in the dark. Then he saw it, a hedge up ahead. She'd have to go through the gate. She put one foot on the lower bar, her arms on the top and swung around it in one motion. Neville, being further behind her but able to course-correct at the same time she did, managed to close the distance faster approaching the gate, but then lost these gains as he clumsily tried to scale it.

The moors now descended, initially in a gentle curve and then a steeper drop. The run had to become more of a jog and, on several occasions, nearly became a slide. Even Emily slowed, picking her way down more carefully. Half-way down there was a road. A car was coming and, had Emily stopped, he would have caught her. Instead she bounded across like a gazelle, her naked frame illuminated in its head-lights for an instant and then leapt over the stone wall on the other side of the road. It skidded for a second, stopped, beeped its horn and the driver shouted an angry question. Neville had to wait by the side of the road for it to head on off its way. Valuable seconds lost, but the driver hadn't seen him and he really didn't want to have to stay to answer the really rather good question of what the bloody hell they were doing.

He crossed the road and mantled the wall. He couldn't see Emily, just a cottage with its lights still on up ahead. If he'd lost her then it was game over. Then he found the naked figure, heading east this time, presumably to avoid the habitation. She was moving slower now. Was she tiring or had she deliberately slowed so as not to win?

The car interlude had given him a chance to get his breath back as well and he set off with renewed vigour. With another flat section ahead of him and with Emily nearly knocked down just now, he decided it was time to end this. He lengthened his strides and dipped into his reserves of energy and burst forward with new speed. He was nearly on top of her before she realized, but when she did, she too increased her speed. Nevertheless, they were in the endgame and Neville seemingly had more left than her. He matched her stride for stride just a meter behind.

Now, here was the thing, it was all very well shadowing her, but how he to end the chase. He could rugby tackle her to the ground, but that seemed ungainly and ungentlemanly. He could tap on the shoulder and say "Tag, you're it," but he doubted she'd appreciate the humour. Instead, he got as close as he could to her and grabbed her from behind, hugging her at her waist and pulling her off her feet. Her legs kept flailing. She could have easily hit him in the face with an elbow. She didn't. She relaxed and he moved her round so he was holding her in his arms properly. She looked up at him adoringly and reached out to touch his face. He reached down and kissed her and she moved up to meet his lips.

So what now? he thought. Damn it, did a cat agonize over what to do when it caught a mouse? Was there any doubt that the pursuit had been sexual in nature? He imagined himself back to those sexual education classes he'd had in secondary schools ("Well, Miss Williams, you see she was wearing these boots...", "Now, Neville, it's incredibly toxic to assume a woman is a willing partner just because she's wearing [finger-quotes] 'slutty' clothing.", "Yeah, but Miss...") He was keenly aware that this was the first time he'd ever touched her, clothed or naked. He'd held her on her naked waist, back and thighs. They were his prize and he'd won them squarely according to her rules. He had the right to take her here and now and it was what she wanted, that much was clear. He could always ask her, of course, but it seemed they were better at running than they were at communicating.

Still, they were in the middle of the moors, with open space all around. He hadn't noticed during the chase, but the wind was up again. Where the ground wasn't wet it was stony. He cast his mind back to his only occasionally misspent youth and his explorations of the local area. He turned around three-hundred and sixty degrees and tried to gauge his position. With a sudden heft, he pushed her up and over his shoulder and set off to the south.

6. The Consummation

The cave was only about a mile away, though some of that was uphill and carrying a burden in pitched blackness was never easy. Neville coped better than he'd expected. He wondered what Emily weighed -- not more than 8 stone surely. She was manageable. He stopped after the a few steps to put his coat around her. He didn't ask her to get off and walk; he liked having possession of her. He did put her down from time to time and, about halfway through the journey, she climbed on his back and stayed there.

There were some spectacular caves in the moors that could keep spelunkers active for days. Roberts's Cave was not one of them. If it had been in a video game it would have contained two orcs and a single treasure chest. It was a great shelter out of the element however and gave them some privacy. He sat her down on a rocky outcrop.

"Wait here," he said. She would obey he was sure; she was exactly where she wanted to be. He scoured the immediate vicinity, picking up twigs and moss as he went. After about five minutes he hit pay-dirt, a fallen birch tree. He snapped some of the choicer branches off and headed back. He tried remembering back to his Duke of Edinburgh Award camping trips. His mam had insisted he go, as they would 'make a man of him.' He smiled to himself -- it looked like her prediction was about to come true, if she'd only known. It'd been a few years - what were the rules of making a fire? Never light one in a cave, that was obvious. He chose a section just outside. You also had to clear the ground around of grass and moss so the fire didn't spread any further. There was some more complicated stuff about using an underlay of bigger bits of wood at the bottom to get circulation, and ideally you'd split them in half, but he had no tools with him, so he did the best he could. He lit the fire by banging to two stones together. Back in his camping days, he'd wimped out and used matches, but he'd watched some of the other boys do it. It took him a while to get the knack and the angle to the strike right, but when he managed to get the wood to catch, he was immensely proud of himself. But then fire-building was a science, maybe the first ever, and he'd always been good at science.

The light was as welcome as the heat. He studied her face, all bathed in flickering red. He took his clothes off - shoes and shirt, then trousers. He pulled his boxers off quickly, lest embarrassment get the better of him. He put them on rock close to the fire to dry. He'd sweated a lot, both on the chase and on the carry. As he did so, Emily unlaced and slid out of her boots. Now he and Emily were equal.

He sat back down next to her, still wordless. She put her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulders. He felt her breasts push in against his arms.

"Well, here we are," he said.

"Here we are," she repeated. "Your place?"

"Yeah, well you know, my ancestors put the payment for the mortgage down back in the Cretaceous era, but just another couple of million years and it's all mine."

She smiled. He didn't really understand her sense of humour, but he guessed she's smile at anything, right now. They kissed. It went on for a long time, him just looking at the reflection of the fire dancing in her eyes. As they explored each other's mouths, he became erect. Without breaking the kiss, she moved herself round and came to sit on his knees, his cock pressing into her belly, her arms around his shoulders.

Eventually, when they parted lips, he said, "So, is this your idea of a perfect first date?"

She looked him straight in the eye and put a hand on his cheek. "No, it's my idea of a perfect wedding night."

He let out half of a snorted laugh and then stopped himself. She hit him playfully on the shoulder. "I'm serious. About you. Tell me you're not."

Neville considered his options. Getting up and leaving seemed a bit of an anti-climax after the evening he'd had and he was having difficulty thinking about anything except how much he wanted her. And she was, right -- if it was their wedding, it was just about perfect.

"So, that's your idea of marriage is it? I hit you over the head with a club and drag you back to my cave?"

"You'd never hit me and the first thing you did when we got here was you built me a fire. I suspect cavemen did the same -- the nicer ones anyway. They can't all have supported Millwall."

Then for a precious moment, they were not talking or kissing, but just looking at each other.

"I don't have a ring," he finally said. It was his way of answering a question she hadn't quite asked.

"It's okay. We'll let the darkness bind us."

Then they were kissing for a third time. After a pleasurable five minutes, Neville got up sheepishly and went to retrieve his wallet from his trousers.