She had a calm, dreamy look on her face. A hint of a smile. Arching her back, she reached both arms up behind her.
‘Don’t,’ Charles murmured.
Her eyebrows lifted. ‘I was just going to unhook…’
‘I know. Let me?’
Her smile brightened. ‘Sure.’
Charles pulled out his knife. As he opened the blade, he watched Lynn - ready to grab her if she should try to flee.
Her smile went crooked. She stood motionless, eyes on the knife. ‘You’re kidding, right?’
‘I have to.’
She lifted her gaze to his face. She seemed to be studying him. Then she shrugged one shoulder. ‘Go ahead, Charles.’
‘Huh?’
‘If you have to, you have to. I’ll buy a new one.’
‘Oh.’
She put her hands on his hips. He felt them shaking slightly. They squeezed him when he cut through each of the shoulder straps. Then he slid his blade under the narrow band between the cups of her bra. She closed her eyes. Her mouth hung open. He heard her raspy breathing. He tugged, severing the band.
The bra fell away.
Lynn opened her eyes. A smile fluttered on her face. ‘This is pretty kinky,’ she said, her voice husky.
She shivered when he rubbed the blade’s blunt edge down the top of her left breast. In the glow of the nearest florescent light, he saw the smooth skin go pebbly with goosebumps. Her nipple grew. He pressed it down with the flat of the blade, and watched it spring up again. Lynn groaned.
She tugged open his belt. She unfastened the button at the waist of his jeans, jerked his zipper down, feverishly yanked his jeans and underwear down his thighs.
Can’t be happening this way, Charles thought. Never had anything like this happen. He wondered if he might be asleep, dreaming.
But he knew that he was very much awake.
Lynn’s fingers curled around him.
‘Do my panties,’ she whispered. ‘With the knife.’
He cut them at the sides. The flimsy fabric drooped, but the panties didn’t fall. They clung between her legs until she reached down. A small pull, and they drifted toward the floor.
‘This is so weird,’ she gasped. ‘I’ve never… nothing like this.’ Her soft, encircling fingers slid on him. Up, and down.
The knife shook as Charles moved it toward her chest. Just above her left breast, he pressed the point against her skin. Gendy. ‘Careful there,’ she whispered. ‘You don’t want to cut me.’
‘I do, actually.’
Her hand slipped away. She stood up very straight, searching his eyes. ‘You’re kidding, aren’t you?’
‘No.’
‘But you hate cuts.’
‘I’m sorry. As a matter of fact, I love them. They… they do something to me.’
‘You mean like they turn you on?’
‘Yes.’
‘But that’s crazy!’
‘I guess so. I’m awfully sorry, Lynn.’
‘Hold on, now.’
‘I have to do it. I have to cut you up.’
‘Oh my God.’
He shook his head. ‘You’re so beautiful, and… I guess I love you.’
‘Charles. No.’
He stared at the knife point denting her skin. A slit all the way down to the tip of her breast…
Lynn grabbed his hand, twisted it. As Charles yelped, the elbow of her other arm crashed against his cheek. Stumbling backward, he heard his knife clatter to the floor. His pants tripped him. He slammed the side of the study carrel and fell.
Lynn scurried, crouched, and came up holding the knife.
Charles got to his knees. He gazed up at her. So beautiful. Scowling at him, naked except for her white socks and sneakers. The blade of the knife in her hand gleamed.
‘Oh, Charles,’ she murmured.
Tears stung his eyes. He hunched over, clasped his face with both hands, and wept.
‘Charles?’
‘I’m sorry,’ he blurted. ‘God, I’m so sorry! I don’t know why I… I’m sorry!’
‘Charles.’ Her voice held a note of command.
He rubbed tears from his eyes and lifted his head.
Lynn stared down at him. She nodded slightly. A corner of her mouth was trembling.
She flicked her wrist. She flinched and grimaced as the blade cut a tiny slit. She closed the knife and lowered it to her side.
Charles watched the thin ribbon of blood. It started just below her collar bone and trickled down. It ran along the top of her breast, split in two, and one strand began a new course down the pale round side while another made its slow way closer to her nipple.
‘Come here,’ Lynn whispered.
Charles was embarrassed horribly the next day in the pharmacy.
Lynn was giggling.
She plopped three boxes of condoms down on the counter. The clerk, a young man, glanced from her to Charles. He looked amused.
‘You got something against safe sex?’ Lynn asked.
The clerk blushed. ‘No. Huh-uh.’
Charles wanted to curl up and die.
‘Ring these up, too, while you’re at it.’ Onto the counter, Lynn tossed three tins of adhesive bandages.
Out of the woods
A sound like footsteps outside the tent shocked me out of half-sleep. Another camper? Not likely. We were far from the main trails and hadn’t seen a backpacker in three days.
Maybe it was no one at all. Maybe a twig or pine cone had dropped from a nearby tree. Or maybe the smell of food had drawn an animal to our camp. A big animal.
I heard it again - a dry crushing sound.
I was afraid to move, but forced myself to roll over and see if Sadie was awake.
She was gone.
I looked down the length of my mummy bag. The unzipped screen was swaying inward. A cool damp-smelling breeze touched my face, and I remembered Sadie leaving the tent. How long ago? No way to tell. Maybe I had dozed for an hour, maybe for a minute. At any rate, it was high time for her to come in so we could close the flaps.
‘Hey, Sadie, why don’t you get in here?’
I heard only the stream several yards from our campsite. It made a racket like a gale blowing through a forest.
‘Sadie?’ I called.
Nothing.
‘Saay-deee!’
She must have wandered out of earshot. Okay. It was a fine night, cold but clear, with a moon so round and white you could sit up for hours enjoying it. That’s what we’d done, in fact, before turning in. I couldn’t blame her for taking her time out there.
‘Enjoy yourself,’ I muttered, and shut my eyes. My feet were a bit cold. I rubbed them together through my sweatsocks, curled up, and adjusted the roll of jeans beneath my head. I was just beginning to get comfortable when somebody close to the tent coughed.
It wasn’t Sadie.
My heart froze.
‘Who’s out there?’ I called.
‘Only me,’ said a man’s low voice, and the tent began to shake violently. ‘Come outa there!’
‘What do you want?’
‘Make it quick.’
‘Stop jerking the tent.’ I took my knife from its sheath on the belt of my jeans.
The tent went motionless. ‘I’ve got a shotgun,’ the man said. ‘Come outa there before I count five or I’ll blast apart the tent with you in it. One.’