Roughing It
Oliver keeps his hand on your back as he peers out of the foliage you've taken shelter behind. "They've gone. All clear Love." You stand and follow his gaze. You can see their flashlights leaving an eerie glow up the trail ahead. "Well, they've gone that way. We'll go this." He indicates the opposite direction and herds you ahead of him that way.
After an hour, you turn on the trail and look at him. "I'm not taking another step. Where the Hell are we going? A simple assignment you said. That to me did not include tramping about the woods in the middle of the night with a two ton backpack and a squad of armed goons on our tail."
"Think of it as a nature walk. That vacation I keep promising and putting off."
"Nature walk? Did you even see Blair Witch?"
He smiles. "Well I suppose you've found our campsite for the night. However I suggest we take it off trail a few hundred yards, through there, up the hill a bit, where it's more dense."
He puts his arm around you and walks you deeper into the forest. "How are we even going to camp Oliver? We don't have a tent. We don't have sleeping bags. We don't dare start a campfire in case F-Troop shows up."
"We do have one sleeping bag. It'll be a little cozy, but I'm sure we'll manage. And with all that body heat, we won't need a campfire."
You grin for the first time in hours. "You coming on to me?"
"If you have to ask, I must be losing my touch." Oliver assists you out of your backpack and then drops his as well.
Soon enough, he has all your belongings unpacked and the sleeping bag unfurled. The two of you quickly finish off the cheese and cold cut meats that he brought. All that remains to do is sleep. You both stand in the moonlight, just looking at the bag.
"So how are we doing this?"
Oliver considers for a moment. "Well, obviously shoes and socks have to come off." You both untie your shoes and step out of them. Next you remove your socks and tuck them into your discarded shoes. Your nose wrinkles as your bare feet touch down on the cold ground beneath you. "The uh, pants probably too, for comfort's sake."
Oliver and you both strip off your jeans. You are left in a flannel shirt and panties. He stands in black silk boxers, a tee shirt, and a flannel jacket. "Well, they do say skin to skin contact is optimum for warmth."
You roll your eyes as your hands come to undo your shirt's buttons. "I'm leaving my bra and undies on and that's final."
"Spoilsport," he grins and shrugs off everything but his boxers. He unzips the sleeping bag and crawls in. He looks up at you, beckoning. You kneel between his legs on the material and carefully lay down on his chest as he zips the two of you in snugly.
His hands find perch on your hip and back. Your palm rests over his heart. The two of you fall into a light sleep.
It can't be more than an hour later, judging by the position of the moon as you open your eyes, when you hear rustling on the trail nearby. "Oliver," you whisper.
"I hear it Love. We'd better get up and get dressed." His hand sneaks out of the sleeping bag and takes hold of the zipper tag. He tugs a few times lightly, then it becomes more furious. "It's stuck!"
"Shh! They'll hear you. What do you mean it's stuck?"
"How many ways do you think there are to take the word stuck? It's stuck. The bloody thing...it won't move."
"Oh great." The rustling becomes definite footsteps, and the footsteps are definitely approaching.
"All right, don't panic. We need to get over into the bushes. Try to find a little bit of cover. Now just help me scoot thi...Hey! Watch where you put your knee please Love."
"Sorry. Which way?"
"This way," he indicates with a nod of his head. You both push off against the ground, trying to get to a standing position. Unfortunately, the ground cover is very slippery. You do start moving, but not quite as you'd hoped. The two of you are rolling down the hillside uncontrollably.
At the bottom of the hill, you hit a tree, your back's side first. You 'oof' and Oliver winces in sympathy. Before you even have time to breathe, you look up at the shadow looming over Oliver. A gun is promptly shoved at your face. You grip Oliver's hand underneath the material of the sleeping bag and wait to hear the shot.
A shot that never comes. "Game over," you hear a voice in the dark say. Headlights come on and infuse the clearing with brightness. A figure walks into view. One you recognize as Robert Dawson, your Employers' latest liaison to the two of you. "You led a good chase you two. Your rating just went up 15% over last time."
"You mean this was a bloody war game?" Oliver is steaming and trying to twist around to see Dawson. Unfortunately, his squirming is only succeeding in grinding your already sore back further into the lumpy trunk of the tree. You grip his inner thigh securely to get your point across. He stills and seems to comprehend your meaning.
"Calm down Old Boy. You know as well as I do that you have to play bi-annually. It's just this year, we got a better drop on you is all. Would you like some assistance out of that bag?"
Oliver is about to say yes when you squeeze his thigh again, remembering what little you are wearing. "Just unhook the damn thing and then wait for us on the trail," he answers finally.
"Of course," you can hear the smirk in the man's voice. The only thing keeping you calm is the knowledge that Oliver will spend the next two years making Dawson regret this night ever happened, orders or not.
Two of Dawson's men unhook and unzip, but do not open, the sleeping bag. The group of them then departs, leaving the two of you some privacy with which to get dressed in.
Oliver throws back the cover of the sleeping bag and stands, extending an arm down to help you up. You stand and walk past him a bit. Oliver notices the large, already dark bruise on your back. "Poor Love." He comes up behind you and kisses your shoulderblade. You turn into his embrace and kiss him on the lips. He pulls back and smiles, starting to lead you back to your clothes.
"Oliver wait." He stops and turns back to you. "How long will they wait for us? Before they come back to check?"
"All night I shouldn't wonder. I think Dawson realizes I'd love nothing better than to break his nose tonight."
"Good," you lead him back to the remains of the sleeping bag and kneel down, smiling till he joins you. "Let 'em wait." He smiles as he kisses you and eases you back...
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| The character of Oliver Sampson and the show VR.5 were created by John Sacret Young and are © Samoset Productions and Rysher Entertainment. No infringement is intended and no profits are being made. |