Page 20 of ReTreat Yourself

‘Christ, I need this,’ says Oliver, tearing off some bread and a lump of cheese and handing them to me. Surprisingly, once we’ve had a few bites to eat we relax easily into each other’s company.

‘What sort of utter horseshit are they feeding us?’ I ask. ‘This beats those dry sticks, that’s for sure.’

‘I know,’ agrees Oliver. ‘And those two warlocks? What’s their game?’

‘I’ll be leaving worse off than when I arrived! I’ve never been so frigging stressed. Did you have to do any Tear Seeking? I mean, what the actual fuck is going on? I think I picked the wrong package.’

‘Hmmm,’ Oliver says, cramming more cheese and half a baguette into his mouth. ‘I got forced to come here from work. The bastards.’

He doesn’t seem the type to be ordered about by anybody.

‘Who do you work for?’

He yanks the cork out of the wine bottle with his teeth and blows it onto the ground, holding it out to me before picking up another and doing the same thing again. He glugs it down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘A company of morons.’

‘Ah, now I am a veritable expert in that field. I bet you any money I have far worse tales to tell than you,’ I say, downing half of the bottle almost in one go.

Oliver’s face lights up unexpectedly. ‘Ah yes, the whole sister making you redundant saga.’

‘Wait until I tell you about Karen the boss.’

‘Let me guess. She’s a sexually confident woman in her forties and everyone needs to know about it.’

We spend the next hour trying to suppress our laughter while swapping workplace horror stories. Oliver is having trouble breaking away from his company. He has not enjoyed working for them for a number of years, but can’t quite bring himself to leave the generous pay and conditions.

‘Your sister sounds like a nightmare,’ he says, deflecting attention away from himself.

‘She is.’

‘Why do you let her walk all over you like that?’

I freeze mid-slug and realise I have no proper answer. ‘Well, I… don’t let her walk all over me for a start, and for your information… I… erm, I’m very assertive with her. I’ve made it sound worse than it is. You know, for comedic effect.’

Oliver breaks off more cheese, handing it over to me. ‘Here, you simply haven’t lived until you’ve tried Tree Tickling,’ he says, quickly changing the subject. I force a smile while he describes what he got up to all afternoon, which was tickling each other on the arms and neck with leaves.

‘I’ll show you,’ he says, which feels like a deliberate tactic to distract me and pull me out of the mood that seems to be grabbing hold of me. Gandalf’s words about letting go of my anger and resentment float into my subconscious as I stuff the cheese in my mouth and savour the strong flavour. It is delicious. I will try to focus on the here and now.

‘Okay then. Do your worst,’ I say, reluctantly holding out my arm.

Oliver takes my wrist gently and turns it palm up. He plucks a leaf from a nearby branch and trails it round my hand and along my arm. It is a very slow and sensual act, far from the harrowing sobs that my group were treated to. I take a deep breath in and feel my whole body relax.

‘Close your eyes,’ he whispers. The sensation is unbelievably enhanced by not being able to see him or the world around. The tension drains away from me.

Now, I’m not entirely sure how this comes about (possibly due to us both having downed at least a bottle of wine each), but one minute I’m sitting with my back to Oliver as he runs a leaf lightly down my neck and over my bare shoulder, tantalisingly slowly down my arm, skirmishing the side of my boob, and the next, I’ve turned towards him, and I’m offering him my neck to kiss. Which he does, expertly. Then before I know it, we are making out under the stars like frisky teenagers.

‘You have incredible lips,’ he says, trailing a line of kisses down to my neck. ‘And you have unbelievably soft skin.’

My whole body is covered in goosebumps at the surge of electricity crackling between us. We are kissing like explorers navigating unchartered seas. We kiss for hours and hours, only stopping to glug more wine. Soon, we are grinding leisurely against each other, my hands tangled in his hair. It’s like a pressure valve has been released, hissing pent-up energy into the atmosphere. Oliver’s hands spread out over my taut stomach, reaching up to cup a breast in each of his paws. I hear his breath quicken as he massages them lightly, sweeping his thumbs expertly over my nipples.

‘Christ, these are magnificent,’ he groans against my lips as our kiss grows ever hungrier. My hands slide down to his buttocks. They are rock hard as I grab him and pull him towards me. I am having a huge effect on him, and I like it.

Eventually, we break free when we both realise we are at the point of no return, Oliver’s erection about to burst from his baggy pants and my nipples poking through the vest top like a couple of stuffed olives. We stare at each other in wonder before a distant clanging of gongs breaks the spell and reminds us that we need to be in bed before the chimes finish.

‘If we get caught, Endless Cloud will be very disappointed in us,’ I whisper, suddenly aware of our rule breaking and wrong-doings.

Sitting bolt upright, Oliver apologises. ‘Yes, you’re right. Sorry. I hope I haven’t overstepped.’