Page 52 of Playing the Field
Ben pours the champagne and holds his glass up to mine. ‘To fun times in the wilderness,’ he says. And I repeat it back to him because I’m pretty sure I know what kind of fun we’re going to be having.
The temperature gradually drops while we’re eating and chatting, so we’re more than ready to climb into the hot tub by the time the champagne is finished. Ben grabs the fluffy white towels from inside the hut while I slide the cover off the tub, releasing pillows of steam.
‘I’m glad I brought my bikini with me for once. I think it’s going to get plenty of use.’
‘I was hoping you might have forgotten it,’ Ben replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
All thoughts of changing into it vanish instantly.
We undress quickly, shivering slightly in the crisp night air before we swing our legs over the side of the tub and lower ourselves into the soft bubbles. Ben draws me close, kissing me as the steam swirls around us and playing with my nipples, which have hardened in the breeze.
It’s only by accident that we discover the bubbles can be made more ferocious, when his arm brushes against a sensor neither of us had noticed. We laugh as the first splashes of water hit our faces, but with it getting in our ears and going up our noses, it becomes a lot harder to kiss. We concentrate on touching each other instead and by the time the cycle has finished and the bubbles have mellowed again, my body is aching for more than just his hands against my skin.
As if he can read my mind, he lifts me out on to the side of the tub, pushes my knees to the sides and moves his head between my legs. Then all I can think about is the feel of his tongue on that sweet, sweet spot and it’s no longer the cool air that’s making me shiver. I arch my back and sigh as he pushes a finger inside me, the tremors quickly intensifying.
I don’t know if it’s because it’s so relaxing here in our own little bubble or because I’m feeling really loved up this evening, but quite suddenly I start to climax, my mouth falling open and my stomach muscles tensing as I’m overcome with the pleasure.
Ben quickly replaces his tongue with his other hand so he can look up and watch me, pulsing his fingers against my clit till I’m gasping. It’s only when it starts feeling so ticklish that it makes me want to giggle that I grip his wrist, meet his eye and shake my head.
‘You want me to stop?’
I nod. ‘Just for a minute. I think I need to come back up for air.’
Smiling, he draws me back into the water. ‘That was a quick one,’ he says, kissing my lips, my cheeks, my neck.
‘That’s the effect you have on me,’ I murmur as I reach for him under the water. Then it’s his turn to perch on the side of the tub and have his breathing made ragged.
Afterwards, we sit in the bubbles with our bodies entwined as the sky darkens above us.
‘We probably should have saved the champagne,’ he says, stroking my back absently.
‘Is it weird that I’m more in the mood for a beer? I know it’s not as romantic, but I could quite happily sip a pale ale right now while we look at the stars.’
‘A girl after my own heart, and your wish is my command.’ A quick dash to the hut and he returns with two freshly cracked-open bottles.
We shift positions so I’m sitting between his legs with my back against his chest, his free arm loosely round my waist. Then we put the bubbles back on maximum speed and stare up at the night sky– both admitting the plough is the only constellation we recognise– until our drinks are empty and our skin has started to prickle from the chlorine.
‘I guess it’s bedtime,’ Ben says after we’ve showered off, because there’s nowhere to sit inside the hut except the snug sleeping area. But of course with us both being naked and in such romantic surroundings, it’s not long before our bodies are intertwined beneath the sheets.
This time there’s a tantalisingly slow build-up to my orgasm that makes it even more consuming, and Ben admits after he’s climaxed that it was one of his strongest ever. I think we’re both still wearing satisfied smiles as we cuddle up together and drift off to sleep.
27
The next morning Ben pulls two exercise mats out from under the bed and asks if I want to join him for a stretch in the rising sun. We roll them out in the garden and I watch him fold himself into positions that don’t look like they ought to be possible– he’s been practising yoga for years. I do my best versions alongside him.
After breakfast we head off for a long walk through the countryside, eventually circling back to the cosy country pub we spotted right at the beginning to grab some lunch. Then we spend the afternoon playing cards in front of our hut, with me mostly winning up to the point when I suggest the loser should shed an item of clothing after each game. Ben’s luck suddenly takes a turn for the better and I accuse him of hustling. But it’s not long before we’re both semi-naked and the cards are discarded pretty quickly after that.
We barbecue steaks for our dinner, which we have with the red wine. Then we sit by the firepit, Ben’s arm round my shoulder, my head resting on his, listening to the sound of the logs crackling in the flames.
I reach for his other hand and thread my fingers between his. ‘This has flown by so fast. I can’t believe we’ll be back in Hamcott tomorrow.’
‘I may have another little something in mind for the weekend after next,’ he confesses. ‘To celebrate your exam results, if you’re up for it. You did say you get them that week, didn’t you?’
He’s right, but I’ve been trying not to think about it– that last paper still fills me with a sense of foreboding. ‘Is it another glamping trip?’ I ask, looking up at him.
‘Something different.’ But he doesn’t say what.
‘So I’m not getting any clues this time either?’
