Driftwood

Adam pulled the soaked shirt over his head and began to gingerly rub his arms and chest dry. Trine couldn't help but take in the sight. He was not exactly built, but instead lean in a pleasant kind of way, with a hint of abs and the same stubbornly strong wiriness to his arms that she had felt when she lead him from the shore. He was really cute, now that she had the chance to pause and look at him, and her eyes went from his face, to his chest and belly, and back. He didn't seem to notice, just glad to finally get dry and a little warmer. Dreamily, she watched his muscles move, his skin flex, his chest heave with breaths. Whose chest it was, was only barely relevant. It was the body of another, in front of her, within range. She felt that immediate pull, a faint urge to reach out and put her palms on those shoulders, maybe lean into him and share a little of her own warmth. Nothing more than that. Just a little touch, a little company. It had been a peaceful year, a year of rest and survival. But it had also been a lonely year. So very lonely, she thought. Just a little closeness, just someone's arms around her for a while, just a little...

She was almost about to take a step towards him, when he finally looked up and met her eyes. That snapped her back into reality and she thanked her lucky star she hadn't been staring at his belly, or even lower, at the time. What the hell was she thinking? She didn't know this man, for all she knew he could be a chauvinistic prick, or a mass murderer, or a country fan. Or gay. Did he look gay? Damn it, snap out of it. You're staring again, Trine.

"Yeah, right, um, all dried and cosy now?" she quipped in panic, with a Shit! Did I just say cosy? added in her head. She wanted to run away and hide, and thought he must think she's a babbling idiot. And he'd be right, she admitted to herself.

If Adam thought she was an idiot, he hid it well. He just gave her a grin and pointed at his chest. "This part anyway."

"Oh. Yes. Towel. Yes. Sorry. I'll be right back," Trine said and fled out into the bathroom.

To call it a bathroom was generous. It was more of a plastic shed attached to the outside of the small house, You actually had to walk outside to get to it. The makeshift room contained a sink, a shower head behind a curtain and an old washing machine. But it had radiators for the winter and running water. Warm even, if you turned on the pipe heater. In the warm summers, Trine settled for cold showers though. She needed a cold shower right about then. She leaned at the sink and took a few deep breaths. This was no good. She had to get a grip. It was just--a guy, this was not the time and place to get all hot and bothered over a cute smile and a bare chest. She'd had enough of that. She didn't need men, they were part of what she'd left behind, what she'd escaped form. Focus, girl.

She grabbed a suitably huge towel from a hook on the wall and went back inside. With a mixture of regret and relief she saw that Adam had put on the sweater and was towelling his still damp hair. She gave him the larger towel and headed out into the bathroom again so that he could change in privacy. From a small cabinet under the sink she picked up a bottle of medical alcohol, a bag of cotton balls and a roll of surgical tape. Living alone on an island with a bi-weekly ferry as the only link to civilization means you'll have to be ready for pretty much everything short of a comet strike. Maybe this wasn't the time and place for her to moan with pleasure, but it was definitely the time and place for him to scream with pain. It was either that, or gangrene for the poor guy. Besides, digging around in a bleeding wound ought to take her mind off sex for at least an hour or two.

It did. For an hour and thirty-five minutes. It was plenty of time to clean out the cut on Adam's ankle, along with aforementioned screaming, or at least loud grunts of discomfort, patch it up and wrap a bandage around his heel, light the fireplace, call the Danish coast guard and let them and Adam's sailing buddies know that the guy who went floating about in the middle of the night had been found, get her own tired feet out of boots and into fresh socks, shuffle away the most embarrassing piles of laundry into a corner, and make sandwiches and coffee.

She sank down at the end of her bed and peered over the edge of her cup of Arabica at a slim face with dark eyes, a three day shave and short, almost pitch black hair that seemed to have a will of its own. Half the face was hidden behind a mug the size of a soup bowl, and he carefully blew the steam off the black pool, eager to devour its content. He looked up at her and flashed that cute smile, the one that had made her train of thought derail and crash gloriously an hour and thirty-six minutes earlier. She felt a faint jolt in her spine, and had to hold onto her coffee extra hard not to spill it.

"Thank you," Adam said out of the blue. Trine raised her eyebrows in question and he continued. "For the coffee, for the food, for the clothes and--well--let's call it a quilt for the sake of my manliness, for the hospitality, for carrying my sorry self over hills and ditches, and for sitting there right now, being a lovely end to an up until now terrible day. This morning I was vomiting salt water and clinging to a pink pool mattress in the middle of the sea, and now I'm having gourmet coffee by an open fire with a pretty girl. So yes, thank you and thank you again."

There it was again. The jolt in her spine, the momentary flutter in her chest. Lovely. Pretty. It seemed to trigger a high in her that she couldn't escape from. Not that she wanted to. It was a great feeling. Company. Not just conversation and a break-off from the loneliness of recent months. Merely that would have been great. But this was also company of a man, a nice and reasonably attractive man who seemed to think the same about her. A man that she could be a woman around, give a little smile to, toss a little hair for. Be a little, if only just a little, adored by. Right, she didn't need this. She'd sworn off all those things that were bad for her. No sharp drinks, no fuzzy nights, no expensive clubs or cheap fucking at the drop of a pill. But was this it? She'd gotten off on attention in the past, to the point of spreading wide to get it. But this wasn't the same, was it? She was just being a little nice to a guest. It wasn't like she was on her knees with her head inside his skirt...quilt...towel. It was just a little harmless flirting, nothing else. This wasn't about sex. Right?

Right, she decided. With the ferry two days off, Adam's boat at least as far away and her own rowboat with a strapped on outboard being too small for the weather, they were stuck together for the next 40 or so hours. Two nights and almost two days. She couldn't be an ice queen for two whole days just to cling to a principle. She returned his string of compliments with a tenacious smile and took a first sip of the coffee.

With warmth, bread and hot beverage in his system, Adam started to regain a little of the colour that had drained from him over the last day. The hue of his cheeks returned, the rings around his eyes disappeared, and his expression went from lightly tormented to confident and friendly. He was looking better by the minute, something that Trine was not late to notice. While they finished their coffee and chatted away the evening hours with nonsense and non-topics, the weather and whatever, her eyes rarely left his features.

And, she noticed, his eyes were fixed on her. The right kind of appreciative glance, with the right kind of peaks snuck down at her chest when he thought she wasn't looking. Men are men after all, and Trine would have been insulted if he didn't try to ogle a little. You can always count on some peeking. Unless maybe if you wear a burqa.

-----

4. Bed, breakfast and beyond

Her eyes were shut, her head arched back, her face a conflicted mask of intense pleasure, concentration and frustration. Her legs were spread wide, her breasts arched up high, her hips bucking, her ass clenching, her heels digging into the mattress. Her palm ran up and down her frantic body, gliding over sweaty skin, tugging at soft hair, stopping by her nipples to pinch, pull, twist, rub in an almost violent way. Two fingers on her other hand was deep in her pussy, plunging hard in, out, in, out with a speed that looked more like a shudder than a steady fuck rhythm. Her voice was saturated with lust and urgent on the verge of tears.

"Oh c-come here and touch me. Nngh...why won't you touch me?"

"Because you look so fine like that. You handle yourself so beautifully. Go on sweetness, just a little while longer now."

"But I want you, I want you so bad."

"Baby, I'm right here."

"But here, not there. On me, in me, please, I need you inside of me."

"You're almost here, keep it up."

"Fuck me, please fuck me!"

"Next time, sweetness. Maybe next time."

"Fuck me! Aaaaah!"

The orgasm hit like a storm, rolled over her in wave after wave, drowning out all sound, all sight, all reason. For a minute, she was a creature of pure ecstasy, a living, breathing climax. She moaned out wordlessly into the dark emptiness until her lungs were drained, and collapsed in a curled up ball with her hands still clamped around her pussy.

"Beautiful. So beautiful." Then nothing for a while. Then, "Time for me to go. Until next time, be good, Trine. Be a good girl."

She could barely breathe, let alone speak, but a faint "No..." managed to slip past her lips. "No, don't leave me."

But there was no reply. The whisper in the shadow was gone. Only her own voice remained.

"Please don't leave me alone, please love me, please take me, please fuck me, please fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..."

With that mantra repeating on her lips, she slipped away into deep and dark sleep.

-----

She woke up naked, curled up on the side with ruffled hair, sticky fingers and a sheen of sweat all over that made her shiver in the chilly air. The fireplace was a few dots of powerless embers that didn't manage to keep anything warm but themselves, and the cold outside had seeped in steadily through the night. It didn't bother Trine much, crisp mornings was part of her routine, a good way to get started. It wasn't until she sat up at the edge of the bed and rubbed sleep out of her eyes that reality hit her. She was stark naked. She had, beyond reason and self control, done what she'd done many times before. Kicked off her covers, stripped down to nothing and fingered herself into an erotic frenzy.

Nothing wrong with that, she did it all the time, and what a girl does by herself is her business. But that was the problem. She hadn't been by herself.

Adam. The driftwood, the stranded guy, her latest Stuff From The Sea, was sleeping on the couch right in front of her. She must have masturbated...in her sleep? Unaware in dream-like half-consciousness that she had company? Totally naked...legs spread... With a guy just a few feet away. In plain sight. Oh fuck. Oh hell. Oh fucking hell. Beelzebub on a bicycle, what if he'd seen her? What if she'd made noises, unashamed, undeniable noises, panting, moaning...what if she woke him up? Did she give him a midnight show without even knowing it? Did he watch her shove her fingers straight up... Shit, this couldn't be happening!

In panic, she picked up the pile that was her sheet from the floor and wrapped it around her body, before finally daring to look in the direction of the couch. Adam was sound asleep, lying on his side with the back against the room. His breath was slow and deep, but other than that he didn't move a muscle. So he sure as sunshine didn't see her in the buff right now, at least.

And maybe, just maybe, he'd slept through the whole thing. She quietly moved over to a drawer and took out a clean top and panties, put them on with some effort under the sheet, and wore the pair of sweatpants she'd hung over the end of the bed when she went to sleep. Then she snuck outside to collect her thoughts. The chilly wind splashed her in the face like a sharp, fresh caffeine overdose. It was a never failing method to wake up, and all the mental cobwebs of sleep were blown away. The mean little spider of possible disaster was, however, not. She considered her options, and realized that she had pretty much none. Short of throwing herself to he waves, all she could do was pretend like nothing happened, go about her business and wait the day out, praying to whatever deity that cared that Adam had been in too deep a coma to notice. He was pretty exhausted after all. Yeah, that's it, he probably didn't see anything. Maybe. Pleasejesusmakeitso...

"Good morning, love."

Trine spun around. There he stood in the door behind her, looking wonderful. Unshaved, a little morning weary and with a hair that had given up on looking proper long ago, but that smile, those eyes, a neck that looked perfect for nuzzling up against... and a very undressed body beneath it. A bare, tanned chest, and only a towel that hung loosely around his waist and was held up by hand. His tall figure leaned against the doorpost and smiled at her. Smiled. The same smile as yesterday, as far as Trine could tell. What was it again? Oh yes, act normal.

"God, you scared me. Wait, did you just call me love? Are we that kind of friendly now?"

He laughed. "It's just a tag. My mum calls me that for goodness.... Is miss better? How about ma'am? Does ma'am work for you?"

The ma'am came out with such a fake Texan drawl that Trine couldn't help but laugh.

"No way! Ma'am makes me feel like I should wear an apron, three layers of skirts and have hips like a rhino."

"I say, if I knew being properly polite was this difficult..."

Polite would be to not walk around naked in my house, Trine thought. But she let that pass. She was not sure what she'd do if he replied "But you didn't seem to mind nudity last night." She'd probably die on the spot. And, she had to admit, he was a sight that she most definitely enjoyed, and he did cover up all the no-no bits.

"I've got a name, you know," she said. "We're not big on titles in this corner of the world."

"Ok then. Trine, can I please use the shower? I've got salt everywhere and a plankton zoo in places I don't want to talk about."

"Oh. Of course. Wait here."

She brushed past him in the door. For a moment, her whole vision was filled with his torso, her hand rested lightly on his chest, her arm brushed against his side, the smell of salt and sweat filled her nostrils... It was just half a second, but that was enough to make her heart pound, and her balance played tricks on her as she went inside. Cursing her inability to focus, she staggered into the room and found an extension cord hanging on a hook, She plugged it into the wall socket and went outside where she handed the other end to Adam.

"Here. It's for the--um--water. Plug it in to the thing by the sink and give it a minute, then it should be warm enough."

"The 'thing by the sink'? I love it when you get all technical on me."

"Oh, you know what I mean. I don't know the English word for it, ok? Just shove it in and enjoy the heat."

She started to blush even as she said it. Quickly, she fled inside and left Adam standing by the door, holding a dangling power plug and looking more than a little amused.

Amusement was not a feeling on Trine's mind though. One part of her was worried sick that he knew everything and that his behaviour was just as much an acting-normal charade as hers, and that the big, terrible joke was on her. Another part kept on ranting "There's a naked man in my shower, there's a naked man in my shower. There's. A. Naked. Man. In. My. Shower!" A third, much smaller part said "Yes, there's a naked man in my shower. A hot naked man. Wet, probably soaped up nice and slippery. I hope he saw me naked and is jerking off to the memory right now. Why don't I strip and join him?", but the other two parts kept telling it to shut up.

A fourth part looked at the other three parts and shook it's proverbial head. "I'm an idiot," it said. "Just start with the damn breakfast already."

-----

5. Wresting an hourglass

She awoke with a blink, a shudder, sometimes a shout. The world spun, she felt drained, paralyzed. Was she there or just dreaming that she woke up? What was the difference? Did it matter? The room was pitch black, save for a faint patch of moonlight that had moved from her thigh to the wall. The whisper was not there, and the hum of satisfaction from pleasuring herself long gone. A sinking, empty feeling of loneliness had taken its place. A vacuum to fill the vacuum? How ironic, she thought.

Deep, cold dreams tugged her back before she could think anything else.

-----

The rest of Trine's day was crossfire of doubt, fear, what-ifs and a constant struggle to keep her blooming lust under wraps. The four way debate in her head kept bouncing illogic arguments, wild guesses and slippery slopes at the walls of her skull. And that was pretty much all the voices could do, because Adam didn't reveal whether he knew her dirty little secret or not with as much as a wink or a waver on his voice. Not that that made Trine any more confident. Because he had changed. He was pleasant and charming as before, but with a new glimpse of interest in his voice. He was leaning a little closer, his eyes lingering a little longer, a little more compliments and innocent flirting weaved into what he said. And more of those heart-stopping smiles that simply couldn't be healthy in too large doses. But that could mean anything, really. He was a guy and she was a girl who seemed to be having that effect on males now and then, so it could be the little head pulling him along even without her accidental nocturnal inspiration.

Whatever caused it, it didn't help her keep her head cool. There were, on any given day, chores to be done and routines to follow. The fireplace didn't light itself, especially without chopped wood, there was laundry to do, groceries to order out with tomorrow's ferry, a well to check, a small patch of vegetables to weed out... Stuff that didn't nearly fill her day normally, but that took twice the time now, since Adam, foot healed enough to walk around, insisted on doing his share and helping her with everything. So he tagged along like a puppy, and although he dug in ambitiously, Trine - who was the one supposed to know where things went and how they worked - was so distracted by his presence that she fumbled like a clown, forgot the most basic things and generally made an ass of herself.

Ferns hovered up ahead, swept back and forth in the grey sky, opening their beaks in gleeful yapping over her embarrassment. Or not really, but when she managed to ungracefully trip over her own feet right in front of Adam, and heard a spiteful "Hya-hya-hya-hya-hya!" From above, she wanted to grab a shotgun and blow the stupid bird's tail feathers into confetti.

The gnawing uncertainty in her pit of Trine's stomach about last night's grand show was one thing. It was what it was, which wasn't cheerful, but there was nothing she could do to affect it. But the man himself, that was something else. When he touched her, when he breathed in her direction, when he said something appreciative about her or when he smiled that god damn smile, she went putty like an adoring teenager. When she did, she had to drop whatever she had at hand, tense up her body not to stagger and focus hard on breathing not to show her excitement.

"Get it together, silly girl," she told herself. "Just stay cool for a little longer, and he'll be on a ferry and your life can return to normal."

"Or I could just jump his bones and get it over with," she small and horny pixie in the back of her head said. "End of problem. I know I wanna."