Richard Laymon - Tread Softly

"What about Karen's tent?"

"Why bother?"

"Just the two tents, then."

"Right. Let's do it."

Slowly, as if someone might be watching, they unzipped their mummy bags. Julie's throat felt tight. She clamped her teeth together to stop her chin from trembling, and sat up. As she reached for her shoes, she saw Nick swing his bare legs free of his bag. He was wearing blue shorts. Boxer underwear? No, she decided, must be gym pants. He wouldn't dare run around in nothing but his undies. "You're gonna freeze your tail off," she said in a shaky whisper.

"You're telling me." He turned toward her and started putting on his shoes.

She noticed, with a mixture of relief and disappointment, that the shorts had no fly. She caught herself trying to see up the leg holes, and quickly lowered her gaze. She stared at her shoes as she put them on.

"All set?" he asked.

Julie nodded. She stood up, feeling the cold seep into her clothes. As she tugged at the bottom of her jacket, she saw the thrust of her nipples through the tan fabric. Nick saw, too. He was staring. "Take a picture," she muttered. "It lasts longer."

He met her eyes for a moment, looking stunned and hurt, then turned away. He shook his head.

"Hey," Julie whispered.

"Never mind, let's just forget it." He knelt on his sleeping bag.

"Come on, don't chicken out on me."

"It was a dumb idea." He reached back to pull off a shoe.

Julie squeezed his shoulder. "Come on. I'm sorry. It wasn't your fault. I was a jerk."

"No you weren't."

"Hey, you can look at me all you want. I was looking at you."

"You were?"

"Sure. Come on, let's scare the crap out of everyone."

The flashlight no longer beamed through the side of the twins' tent. Julie heard no talking. "Hope they're not asleep," she whispered.

Nick took the lead, striding quietly across the clearing. They stopped beside the tent. He began to pound his feet on the earth. Julie joined in. Shoulder to shoulder, they ran in place, their shoes crunching the dry pine needles and twigs and pinecones. Through the noise, Julie heard frantic whispers from inside.

In a high, trilling voice, she called, "Helllllp meee. Pleeeease hellllp meeeee."

Screams erupted from the tent.

Nick slapped a hand across his mouth, apparently to hold in a giggle, and dashed into the trees just behind the tent. He cut to the left, Julie close on his heels. Running through the dark, with the girls still screaming, she felt a strange quivering tightness in her chest as if she needed to scream herself. They passed the tent of Nick's parents, then raced toward the rear of her father's tent.

"Helllp meee!" she called in a shrill voice. "Hellllp meeeee!"

Their feet crashed through the undergrowth.

"Pleeeease hell — "

"It's all right," came her father's voice. "Julie!" he yelled. "It's not funny!"

"It's Doreeeeen!" she cried, and rushed by.

As they raced for their sleeping bags, Mr. Gordon scurried out of his tent. "What the fuck's going on!" he bellowed.

Julie dived for her bag. Nick hit his, laughing, and burrowed inside.

"For Chrissake," Mr. Gordon said. "No more of that, Nick, or you're in for it." He muttered, "Infantile."

Peering out of her sleeping bag, Julie saw him crouch at the entrance of the twins' tent. "It's all right, girls," he said in a loud voice. "Just a couple of morons."

"He called me a moron!" Julie whispered.

She heard Nick laugh.

Scott listened to Benny's slow, deep breathing. Finally asleep. About time. Julie's stunt had thrown quite a shock into him, keeping him awake for a long while afterward.

Good old Karen. She really opened a can of worms with that story of hers.

Good old Karen.

He opened the side of his bag so slowly that the zipper popped open with quiet, individual clicks. Then he silently climbed out.

If Benny wakes up, he thought, I'll just tell him that nature is calling. Won't even be a lie; nature is calling.

Naked except for his jockey shorts, he shivered as he crawled to the foot of his sleeping bag. He relaxed his muscles, and the shaking stopped. That's it. Calm. Stay calm. He opened the mosquito screen and crept through the opening. On hands and knees, he scanned the camp. The fire was out. Except for a few pale tatters of moonlight, the area was dark. The two sleeping bags were black bulges near the low stone circle of the fireplace.

He stood up and brushed off his knees. Then he walked quickly to Karen's tent. He unzipped the front and crawled in. Her sleeping bag was stretched lengthwise along the right-hand side. Her face was a vague blur at the far end. Her breathing was slow and steady.

He lay down on the cold floor of the tent, and kissed one of her closed eyes. She moaned. "It's me," he whispered.

"Mmmm." She rolled onto her back.

Scott found the zipper at the side of her bag, eased it down, and slid his arm into the warmth. He touched her. She was wearing something loose and thick and soft. A sweatshirt? His hand moved over it, feeling her heat through the fabric, feeling the smooth curves of her belly and ribs and breasts.

Without warning, a hand grabbed his wrist. "Password?" came a whisper.

" 'Open sesame'?"

" 'Pumpernickel.' Close enough." She raised her head. "What are you wearing?"

"Not much."

"So I gather. Jeez, get in here." She lifted the cover of her sleeping bag, and Scott crawled in. She snuggled against him. Her lips brushed his as she said, "How nice of you to join me."

"Very thoughtful of Julie to sleep outside."

"Yes." They kissed. Karen flinched as he slid a cold hand under her sweatshirt. She pushed her tongue into his mouth. She touched the band of his shorts, slipped her hand in, and caressed his buttocks.

She sighed when he touched her breast. He stroked its smoothness, filled his hand with it, gently squeezed. She sucked a trembling breath as his thumb pressed her nipple. Then she pulled off her sweatshirt. She was bare and warm and sleek to the waist. She squirmed, rubbing herself against him.

His erect penis felt trapped in his tight shorts. She freed it. Her fingers curled around it, slid down the length of it and up again. Scott moaned as the sensation threatened to break his control. He moved lower, easing out of her hand. His mouth went to her breast. He kissed the rigid nipple, tasting the slight tang of salt on her skin.

Karen rolled onto her back, and he tongued her other breast while his hand roamed down the velvety skin of her belly. He plucked at the drawstring of her sweatpants, opening the bow. He slid his hand down. He felt the soft coils of hair. Her thighs parted to make room. She was warm and slick. Her breath became ragged. She clenched his hair, forcing his mouth hard against her breast as she raised her knees and writhed under his sliding fingers. "Oh, God," she gasped. "Oh, my God."

He took his hand away. She let go of his hair, and he rolled aside. While she struggled out of her pants, he shoved his shorts down and tugged them off. Then he was on top of Karen, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, squeezing a breast, pushing into her. She sheathed him, tight and slippery. She whimpered as he slid in deep. "Hurt?" he whispered.

"Oh, Jesus!"

"Is that a yes?"

"No," she gasped. "It's a no." She dug her fingers into his buttocks, pulled, and shuddered as he pushed the rest of the way in.

A few endless moments of mad lunging, burying himself in her dark hugging warmth, in her and enclosed by her and part of her; she strained against him for a deeper joining as if she ached for him to penetrate a secret place just out of reach. Scott sought that place. He plunged for it. He rammed for it. Just beyond him and now he couldn't hold back. He pumped, spurting into her, and knew that his fluid was finding that secret place, making that connection, joining them. Karen quaked under him. Then she held him motionless and tight.