‘How much further?’ she said, wiping a trickle of sweat from her cheek.
He checked his bearings, then pointed due east. ‘It should be over there.’
She shielded her eyes and took a look in that direction. As far as she was concerned it was a long way to trek for a shag. She wasn’t averse, particularly since he’d brought some good shit to smoke when they got there, but the hike was killing the anticipation.
‘There it is. See, the big grey stone.’
She tried to focus, but the sun was in her eyes and the rolling farmland seemed to shimmer and move like a restless sea. When he’d first suggested coming here, they’d been listening to the Police singing ‘Fields of Gold’. She’d pictured herself walking through ripened barley, and what they would do there. That image and the dope they’d smoked had set the scene perfectly. But like most fantasies, it hadn’t quite matched her expectations yet.
He was striding ahead, having apparently spotted his phallic symbol. According to him, midsummer was a potent time to indulge in sex at such a spot. Something to do with the power of energy lines. Well, she hoped he had enough energy left for the both of them when they finally got there.
He’d stopped now beside what looked like a long grey lump of fallen stone. The image of a collapsed phallic symbol didn’t bode well. She felt a giggle rise in her throat, then stifled it when she saw his expression.
‘There used to be three in a circle, but some bastard knocked them down.’ Anger flashed in his eyes.
He looked so serious, she felt the desire to laugh building again, so she said, ‘I need to pee.’
Irritation replaced the anger. ‘We’re almost there,’ he said.
‘Walk on, I’ll catch you up.’
When his striding figure was ten feet away, she hitched up the floaty dress she’d thought would match the occasion and squatted, glad she’d already removed her pants in anticipation of what was to follow.
When she stood up again, she realized he was waiting with his back turned. His good manners endeared him to her again and she felt the stirring of desire return.
This could be good, after all, she thought.
As she reached him, he took her hand and, leaning down, kissed her full on the mouth. When she felt him stir against her, she broke free and, dragging him along, shouted, ‘Come on, let’s hurry.’
As they ran, she felt her bare breasts jump against the cotton. Her heart rate rose and her face flushed. A beat of desire found her groin. She laughed with joy. This was what she’d imagined when she’d listened to the song.
They crested a small mound and saw the upright stone before them.
Panting, her heart crashing, she pounded down the intervening grass as a curlew rose to bleat above them. The sudden appearance of the bird startled her. She didn’t like swooping birds or fluttering wings and covered her head with her arms.
‘It’s okay. It’s only a curlew protecting its nest.’
He drew her into his arms and lifted her lightly, placing her back against the stone.
Now they were in shadow, yet the stone felt warm through the thin cotton of her dress. Her skin prickled, through heat or anticipation.
‘Can you feel it?’ he whispered in her ear. ‘The energy in the stone?’
He slipped his hand up and under her dress. Tracing his finger up her inner thigh, he found entry. She gasped as his other hand grabbed her hair, tipping her head back. Now she was looking up into the sun, and the heat was all about and inside her. His finger retracted and she was suddenly empty again.
‘Now,’ she urged, but he used her hair to turn her head and she yelped at the sudden discomfort.
‘Face the stone,’ he said.
She did as asked, bracing her palms against its roughness. Her body sang with desire as the stored warmth found her palms this time, radiating up her arms and down through her torso.
She gave a cry as he entered her, welcoming the pounding rhythm that pressed her forehead against the roughness of the stone. The satisfying beat of it seemed to go on forever. She felt a trickle of sweat descend her face and seep into her open mouth. It tasted of salt and blood.
The curlew was back, swooping and crying above them as he reached climax. She sagged a little as he extracted himself, then she felt his arm encircle her waist and lower her gently to the ground.
The grass smelt cool and sweet. She thought how right he had been to bring her here.
His fingers found the pulse in her neck and stroked it. She wanted to stay here, her face in the sweet-smelling grass. She wanted more of him, until the sun finally sank over the horizon. She felt him straddle her back and realized it was about to begin again.
A fly buzzed round her head, smelling her sweat and the trickle of blood from the scratch on her forehead. She felt a sharp pinprick in her neck. At first she thought the fly had bitten her and tried to slap it away, but he took both her hands and placed them on the ground. She smiled as a wave of euphoria claimed her. Her body felt as soft as a cloud. She knew if he let go of her she would float up above the tall grey stone.
He left her as the sun sank below the horizon. The sky was a deep red over the fields as he walked back. This time had been the best. Almost perfection. More time, more pleasure. And she’d enjoyed it too. Even as he’d laid her out, she’d been smiling. He hadn’t stabbed the hands this time, just cupped them closed. It would look the same, but not quite. Keep them guessing. He’d chosen the best image he’d taken and uploaded it before he left the site. It would be out there now. How soon before they worked out where she was?
Not before he was well away.
There was a ditch by the side of the road, fed by a field drain. He wiped the mobile clean of prints and dropped it in, covering it in a mixture of mud and slurry. Then he headed for the van.