Bus Crash

She had admired him from the first lecture on, and in four semesters their flirting had gotten heavier and heavier until his presence alone made her get wet and hum inside. He was so together, so wise and strong and collected and calm. He was always on top of things, always in charge, always ready to supply reassurance and advice.

She lived for the moments when he leaned over her shoulder in the lab to look at and praise both the samples she was working on as well as the view down her collar, the moments he rested his hands on her shoulders, slyly caressing her neck with his thumb until she started to breathe so heavily that he let out an agonized groan of restrained arousal, the times he went out of his way to brush against her on empty corridors, the times they were the first to arrive or last to leave the lecture hall and he came over to chat and charm and she could feel the attraction between them as a living, breathing thing. His eyes, voice and touch, all three firm and demanding, carried a promise that he would be like that in bed too, that he would take control, push her thighs apart and hold her down as he fucked her 'til she screamed.

For months and months she'd seen in his eyes the desire to give in to temptation, but they were both bound by practices of good taste. Unfortunately for them, students and teachers fucking each other wasn't exactly considered being of good taste. But she needed him, badly. Her student party hookups weren't able to give her what she really ached for. They were lighthearted youngsters, and when she asked them to be rough with her, the domination was but a pretense, a thinly sprinkled lie over eager boyishness. She dreamt that the power and authority she ceaselessly fantasized about would be genuine in Timo, that he would use her hard, hurt and bruise and then hold her just the way she craved.

Thus, teetering between depression and desperation, she'd scraped up the courage to leave home and follow him to the remote mountains of Serbia. The mountain ecosystems seminar at Ivanjica Mountain Research Station was their one chance in the foreseeable future to tear free from the boundaries of their restrictive campus roles. In a place full of strangers and far away from prying eyes they might finally stop flirting and start fucking. But then her plane had landed late and she'd barely caught the night's last bus. And speeding through darkness and torrential rain on winding mountain roads the bus had veered off the road and into a ditch and now she was lost and in pain in some stranger's house losing precious time she could be spending with Timo.

Chapter 2

Aamu was already hungry when she heard her host washing himself on the porch outside. A bare arm reached into the house and fumbled for a towel hanging from a peg near the door. Cold shivers raised the little hairs on Aamu's arms and back; the arm, glistening with water, was thick and reddish in colour, a working man's arm, the kind of arm that could grab a girl and hold tight no matter how hard she fought.

Anni wrapped the blanket tighter around her half-nakedness until she was wearing the bulkiest and clumsiest of all wrap dresses. She also sat up, because it felt more proper and less vulnerable than laying down when a strange man was soon to enter the room. Still, due to her wandering thoughts she kept her eyes to the floor and didn't look as he walked by into the adjacent room, shirtless, with grey working overalls peeled back to his waist.

He re-emerged in a clean t-shirt and a worn pair of jeans. Aamu looked up and before she even knew it was happening her subconscious had scanned him from head to toe. That scary yet kind face, sturdy frame, those lovely strong arms, his stiff, unhurried manner and determined walk, large hands and thick, thick fingers pushing and spreading and—

"No!" she hissed inwardly and turned her eyes from him. Not the place and not the time to be drawn into a fantasy, simply a big, fat no. If he caught on to her thoughts there was no telling what he would do. The fantasy might be a thrill to her but real rape, no thanks. No, no and no. She just needed to get out of there and on her way to Ivanjica. Quickly. Tonight.

She shook her head to rid her mind of improper thoughts and immediately cried out in pain. She'd been resting still for so long she'd forgotten her head. Vlajko rushed to her, helping her to lie down and take another pill.

"I'm sorry to trouble you like this. So embarrassing," Aamu whispered quietly, but he only smiled. His father had been a healer of sorts and though Vlajko professed to no such talents the cottage on the mountain still had a certain reputation among the villagers. And he certainly didn't mind it now when it had brought such a pretty little guest into his house.

He took a pot of stew from the fridge and while it was warming up he went outside and, despite it being only the end of April, came back with fresh lettuce and radishes. What's out there, a greenhouse? Is he a farmer? Aamu wondered and decided she wanted to see for herself after they'd eaten.

Anni walked over woozily and sat down on a bench by the dining table and Vlajko gave her the veggies to chop up. She gave it her best effort -- the least she could do in the way of thanking him for his help -- and he grinned and said something in the way of a praise on seeing the little rosettes she'd fashioned the strips and slices into. By then Aamu had figured out that no one would be joining them. There was no third plate so no wife, no sister, no daughter. They were all alone. But since he didn't seem to her as threatening as he had at first, the thought didn't make her as uncomfortable as it had a mere few hours ago.

He was less shy but just as awkward as she was at first, but as smiles grew more frequent they both relaxed and she found herself giggling at jokes and stories he was telling. Or maybe it was his wild faces and gestures and miming that amused her so. However, she was thankful for the pain killers he'd given her for otherwise her head would have split from all the giggling. Vlajko had a playful smile that was easy to like and laughing together made it all so much less awkward.

After the meal he went out again. What he did there she had no clue, so leaning against walls and furniture she got up and started exploring. The little house was essentially one big room with a separate bedroom. No toilet and no bath. Putting on a pair of his shoes she saw herself in the mirror. Lifting slightly the layers of gauze she saw a long bloody cut held together with butterfly band aids. She kind of liked the look of it, it made her girly face look more dramatic. She imagined how Timo would act when he'd see it, how he would gasp in shock and then shower her with attention to nurse her back to health. She was sure that the thought that she could have died would finally make him grasp her.

Hanging onto the doorframe Aamu stepped out of the house and instantly her jaw dropped. From the porch green mountains and valleys stretched as far as eye could see. Lower on the slope she could see little roads and clusters of white houses with red tile roofs. In the far distance the houses clustered together to form little villages, roads linking them like veins. Near and far fruit trees flowered all over in their delicate pinks and whites like in The Brothers Lionheart.

She drew a deep breath and felt light. That one breath seemed to cleanse her and open her, give inside her soul the sense of air and space. A weight so familiar that she didn't even notice carrying it anymore lifted from her chest. It was the cramped streets and crowded subway trains of the city, the cashier queues at the supermarket and the constant, relentless hum of traffic.

Vlajko cleared his throat beside her. "Nothing like it, is there?" he beamed proudly.

Aamu flashed him a disbelieving smile and laughed bewildered. He could tell she had never seen anything like it in her life. A city girl, he thought with a twinge of sadness, for city girls weren't made for the mountains. He was the first to acknowledge that life on the mountainside was short of comforts but the cottage was his refuge and it had grown on him.

Aamu walked along the porch railing until Vlajko offered her his arm as support. She hesitated for a moment, but then took it, smiling shyly. Yet her wish to explore was stronger than her shyness to touch him. There was an outhouse and a stable behind the house. No horses though, at least not anymore. Just chickens, rabbits, a goat pen and a battered tractor. A large vegetable garden spread out on the slope with berry bushes and fruit trees on one side. Hotbeds for early spring veggies ran in a neat row by the south wall of the house and she quessed it was where the salad greens at dinner had come from. The quaint homestead reminded her of summers spent at her family's summer cottage, of spiderwebs between the window panes and voles rustling in the outhouse crafted at the back of the woodshed.

Her clothes hung on a clothesline, washed but irrevocably stained with blood. Blushing she thought of him stripping her and then hand washing her clothes down to her lace bra. She felt naked, knowing that he'd seen almost all of her there was to see. Yet she was thankful that he'd drawn the line at stripping her of her panties. The clothes were dry and he took them down for her. Fully dressed she started feeling more like herself again.

He talked to her even though she didn't understand everything. He talked, gestured and laughed. They didn't have a lot of words but they smiled a lot. To her surprise she was even a little attracted to him but the familiar tingles of excitement on her skin were unwelcome. Of all possible wrong times this had to be the most inconvenient. Yet still she kept stealing glances at him when he wasn't looking, and thinking what it would feel like to touch him. His big hands turned her on and to think of those thick fingers inside her made her cunt contract so hard that she felt a lightning bolt of searing heat shoot deep up into where she wanted those fingers. What would it be like if he hugged her small body against him? What would it feel like to lie under him, small and trembling, helpless against his raging desire? She didn't want to think about any of it but she couldn't make the thoughts go away either. She'd lived for so long on Timo's vague promises that Vlajko's proximity made all the little hairs on her body stand on end from the stubborn, persistent need to be touched. Still, she knew it wasn't him she truly wanted and those feelings were mere projections of feelings she had intended to give to someone else.

Much later, when Vlajko got up to clear the table after their evening tea, Aamu stirred from her thoughts. The night was upon them; the night in his house alone with him. She wanted to bolt up and run. She wanted to get on her way but she didn't know how. She didn't know where she was, she didn't have any money, she didn't have her phone and she hadn't seen a car so she couldn't even ask for a lift. Besides, she had no idea what had happened to her rucksack and bag in the crash. She got scared that it had all burned up, her passport included, and she'd never get home. She tried to recall if the wreck had caught on fire but couldn't conjure up anything beyond the same broken images she'd glimpsed before. She tried to ask Vlajko about it but if he understood her question she couldn't understand enough of his partly spoken, partly mimed answer. Something about police and looking.

"Phone. Do you have a phone? I need to call my school, my teacher. I need to call home," she said and mimed talking in the phone. But she couldn't see a phone in the room and the man only shrugged and said something noncommittal. Aamu's eyes burned with tears and, trying to hide her emotional outburst, she turned and walked outside.

She held her breath to mute the sound of her sobs but the man followed her and she turned her back on him in a useless attempt for privacy. He put a hand on her back, petting her between her shoulder blades, trying to comfort her. She shuddered as his touch drew out a response from her body -- a ticklish, needy sensation on her clit. No, no, no! she kept telling herself. Not this, not now, not him, not here! Not like this. Yet it wasn't in her power to subdue her involuntary reaction. Where was Timo? she asked herself. Where was her whole life?

"Come," Vlajko whispered. "You need to sleep," he gestured with his hands, "and tomorrow I'll try to get your things back. Don't worry. It'll be ok."

Even saying it he knew it was a lie. She was too weak still to be left alone. Besides, if it was up to him she wouldn't be going anywhere too soon. He liked having her around, so very shy, but still smiling. She was clearly wary of his touch but earlier there had been genuine warmth in her eyes and that was worth an awful lot to a lonely man.

Back inside Vlajko opened a painted wooden cupboard in the corner and pulled out a clean set of sheets with a bold, Slavic floral print. Aamu's thoughts jumped from sheets to bed, and from bed to sex. She saw the man sitting on top of her, tearing at her clothes while she fought back and begged him not to hurt her. She cursed her overactive imagination; in her head everything that could happen did happen, and her stupid mind kept assaulting her with unbidden sensations and sights, scenes and sounds and there was no way to stop it.

Bed, bed, she thought. Had to happen sooner or later. Bed, night, man, woman, sweat, groans, sex. No! No sex. Sleep. Bed means sleep. Just sleep. But her frantic mind was already full of his heavy, solid body, strong arms, big hands and firm grip. Her body remembered all too well how he'd pinned her down on the couch. And who knows where he had learned how to do that, for men just like him raped thousands of girls in the Yugoslav wars. At that she clenched her teeth together and willed her mind to go blank. She didn't want those images in her head. Not now. Not here.

There were two beds in the bedroom, one beside the door, the other near the window. They made the other bed together, awkward and silent. She glanced slyly at his bed just a few yards away, wondering if he was going to sleep in it. Maybe he caught on to her unease because as soon as the bed was made, he took his blankets, sayed good night and retired to the couch in the main room. Aamu felt bad about taking over his bedroom but just in case wedged a chair against the door. It wouldn't keep out a big man like him but at least she'd get a heads up if he tried to sneak up on her during the night.

She grabbed an extra pillow and lay down hugging it to her chest. As she pulled the duvet and blanket over her, a confusing image of Vlajko tucking her in flashed hot and urgent in her head. The image triggered in her a wistful longing; if everything had gone as planned she could have been in Timo's bed by now, glowing and fulfilled. She fantasized about him for a while, but soon found that she was thinking of Timo but on his face she saw Vlajko's smile.

Hours later she was still awake. It was pitch black but she did not feel as if it was night. She couldn't always fall asleep even when she took her meds and now, without quetiapine and having slept most of the day, it was useless to even try. Where was the sluggishness of the pain tablets now that she needed it?

And to make matters worse she was shivering with cold, unable to create warmth into her little nest of blankets. After tossing and turning in the freezing little room for what seemed like three nights instead of one, she needed to pee. She tiptoed past Vlajko and took his coat from the rack by the door, silently slipping outside. She fumbled along the footpath in the dark, trying not to trip on rocks and roots in Vlajko's big shoes. She was sure he would have had a flashlight or a lantern at least, but she hadn't wanted to wake him. The intimacy of the little cottage was disturbing enough during the day, she didn't want to experience what it would be like to be alone with him in the dark.

She did her business and went to wash her hands at the water tap on the far end of the porch. The water was freezing and the night silent. No people, no traffic, no hum of streetlights, no sirens. Just the occasional muted chirping of faraway birds. She sat down on a little boulder to think and wrapped the coat tighter around her. The scents of earth, mist, animal and dew were mesmerizing. The night was magical. Just for the sake of this marvelous sense of peace, she thought, could she stay for a while? Just for a night or two. Just until she felt rested.

The competition in the university was brutal. It had exceeded all her expectations and still the demands grew and grew. She'd gotten through the first year living on Timo's lectures. He could make her feel that despite everything there was order and sense somewhere in the chaos of university life, and that she'd make it through, eventually. On the second year his courses grew fewer and fewer and towards the spring she barely saw him unless he came to her or she went to him on purpose. Yet every time they got together they talked and laughed and flirted like crazy again, and for a while she felt that she could manage even when everything was mad around her. Timo had a way of effortlessly breaking complicated things down into parts so that they became simple, doable, nonthreatening. Now she counted on him to do that same magic trick to her whole life. Yet here none of that mattered. She was in a whole another world where breathing came easy.

Returning to the cottage she stood still looking at the sleeping man. The sound of his heavy breathing sent shivers down her back. She was freezing and she knew he would be warm to the touch, hot even, if she could press herself against his body. The thought made her shiver. She knew nothing about him and yet she felt drawn to him. Half the time she loathed herself and half the time she kept guessing whether he felt it too. She did however appreciate that especially because of the peculiar attraction between them she would need to be very, very careful and be on her way as soon as possible. Anything and everything between them was strictly out of the question.

Still, she lingered for a few minutes, toying with the thought of stepping closer to the sleeping man. In his sleep her host seemed less formidable. She wished she could touch him, explore who and what he was while he was securely unaware of it -- study his face, caress his chest, run her finger over his full bottom lip. But she knew better and snuck back to bed to squirm up some heat to lull her to sleep. Damn, she swore, as she thought of the painkillers and the now welcome drowsiness they brought. Still she didn't dare to go rummaging in the kitchen for fear of waking him from his slumber.

Vlajko had been aware of the girl's curious interest. For her to watch him in secret had been exciting and arousing, and he groaned when his penis stiffened to a full, demanding hardness. Had she come closer, he fantasized, he would have grabbed her and sat her astride his lap to feel the erection. He wondered how she would have reacted then, with surprised gasps of pleasure or with confused fear. Would she have whimpered or pulled back if he had tried to kiss her? Would she have submitted if he had rolled on top of her, pried himself between her legs and tried to enter her? Would it have hurt her, the sex? What if he was too big for the girl? "Girl," he snorted under his breath and smirked at himself. He might not know her age, but she was a woman allright. No little girl would have the hunger he'd sensed in her just now.

A strange tingling warmth started roaming within him when he thought of her. In his chest, in his gut, in his balls. There was something about her, something soft and frail, that made him want to keep her with him, keep her safe and look after her. He wanted to fuck her too of course, boy did he want that, but he wanted to do it slowly and carefully as not to break her. A dash of nervous fear would only become her, but he wanted her to want it too.