Richard Laymon - Tread Softly

"You have very peculiar dreams."

"Don't I? So you made me lie down on top of my sleeping bag. You took off your poncho and knelt over me and started to undress me."

"I stripped you naked?"

"Very slowly."

She hooked her fingers under the waistband of his shorts, eased the elastic away from his body, and pulled downward. She felt him spring free. With the back of her hand, she caressed the underside of his rigid penis. She tugged the shorts lower. Then she curled her fingers around him, feeling his hardness and his heat. "Did I do this?" she whispered.

He answered with a moan.

"And did I use my mouth?"

"Yes."

Her encircling fingers glided up the smooth length of him. "And did you use your mouth?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

His hands showed her where, rubbing, fingers sliding in. She trembled as heat surged through her body. "Unzip the bag," she gasped.

"We'll freeze."

"Did you freeze in the dream?"

"No, but — " "Wouldn't you like your dream to come true? Better yours than mine, right?"

"You don't know everything we did."

"Show me."

He did.

"This is when I woke up," he finally gasped.

"Oh. Oh, Christ. Well, don't stop now!"

"But. this is when I — "

"Ad-lib."

When they were through, Scott pulled the cover of the sleeping bag over them. They held each other, panting and sweaty. "Quite a dream," Karen whispered, and kissed him.

Later, he fell asleep. Karen lay cuddled against his long smooth warmth, feeling his breath on her face, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest. She was lazy and content. She wanted to let herself slip into sleep and wake up in the morning with him, but she couldn't.

It had always been that way. During their months together, she constantly longed for him to stay, to spend the whole night. In the morning, she would make him breakfast. It would be so wonderful, so complete. Instead, he always had to leave her bed and hurry home. For the kids. She certainly didn't blame him, but she wished it were different. Someday, maybe.

She kissed his eyelids, his mouth. He stirred against her. His hand moved up her side. It closed gently over her breast. "You'd better be going," she whispered.

Scott groaned. "I'd rather not," he muttered.

"I know."

He held her for a long time. He kissed her. Then he eased away and left the sleeping bag. "Woe, it's cooold," he gasped, pulling on his underwear.

"Do you want my sweatshirt?"

"No, that's — "

"Please. I don't want you freezing out there." She tugged it from under her shoulder, and held it out to him. "You can bring it back tomorrow night."

"It's a deal."

As he pulled it over his head, Karen sat up. The cold wrapped her bare skin to the waist.

"Tight fit," he said. Then he leaned closer and hugged her. She felt his warmth through the softness of the sweatshirt. "Sleep well," he said. He kissed her again, then released her and crawled out through the tent flap.

Karen snuggled down in her sleeping bag. She heard his quick footfalls in the leaves, and imagined him rushing toward his tent. She was glad he'd taken her sweatshirt. It was as if part of her had gone with him. She wondered if he would keep it on once he was in his own sleeping bag. Would he wear it and think of her?

Curling up, she reached under her legs and found her sweatpants. She pulled them free. Instead of putting them on, she pressed the limp legs between her thighs. She smoothed the fabric over her belly and breasts. It was soft and warm. With the pants hugged against her, she fell asleep.

Scott woke up with a bad need to urinate. Lying motionless, he forced one eye open. The tent was murky with morning light. Benny was still asleep, breathing deeply, the red of his stocking cap all that showed of him at the top of his mummy bag.

After returning from Karen's tent, Scott hadn't bothered to put his own cap on. He should've. His head was cold, and the rolled-up jeans he used as a pillow felt hard.

He scooted lower until his head was covered, and brought up an arm to cushion it. A thick, soft sleeve pressed against the side of his face. Karen's sweatshirt. He sniffed it. There was a mild, fresh scent that brought a memory of crawling into her sleeping bag, huddling against her warmth, lifting the sweatshirt up over her breasts. She was without it now. He imagined how she would look wearing only the gray sweatpants. That gave him an erection. Swell, he thought.

He concentrated on how to conceal the sweatshirt. If the kids should see it. but Benny was still asleep and he heard no one stirring about the campsite. If he got up now, he could hide it in his pack, which was just outside the tent. He might wrap the sweatshirt in something, just to be safe. No telling whether Julie would actually be asleep.

Hell, if Julie was still sleeping, he could take the sweatshirt right over to Karen's tent and… no, too risky.

He didn't want to leave the snug warmth. He could just stay here. Take off the sweatshirt and leave it hidden in the bottom of the bag until later. Wait right here until the nice hot sun broke over the ridge. But that might be an hour. My teeth are floating!

Quickly, he pulled off the sweatshirt. He shoved it down low in the bag, unzipped the side, and climbed out. He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Funny, he thought, how the cold didn't bother him so much when he was sneaking out at night. It's all in the mind, he told himself. Sure. Feels more like it's in the bones. Sitting on the slick cover of his sleeping bag, he unrolled his jeans. He pushed his legs in, and leaned back slightly. He stifled a yelp as his shoulders met the cold, wet wall of the tent. Ducking away, he grabbed his cotton shirt and pulled it on.

He snatched up his hiking boots. Fresh socks were tucked inside them. He willed his hands to stop quaking, but they didn't obey. Finally, he managed to tug the socks over his feet. He shoved his feet into the boots. The cold of the boots, still damp from yesterday's sweat, seeped through his socks.

Why the hell does anyone go camping? he asked himself. We're a bunch of damn masochists.

He tucked the laces under the boot tongues. Even if he wanted to tie them, his hands were shaking too badly.

He crawled toward the tent flap, then remembered Karen's sweatshirt. He glanced at Benny. Still asleep. Reaching into the warmth of his sleeping bag, Scott pulled out the sweatshirt. He tucked it inside his shirt, and crawled outside.

He glanced at the two sleeping bags, some twenty feet away, stretched out side by side near the circled rocks of the fireplace. They didn't seem quite as far apart as the first night. Interesting. The tan hood of Julie's warm-up suit was all he could see of her. He quickly opened his pack, stuffed the sweatshirt deep inside, and rushed off into the trees behind the tents.

When he returned, he felt a lot better. If he could just get a fire started, he knew he would feel terrific. Fooling with it, though, he'd be sure to wake up Julie and Nick.

Their sleeping bags were no more than a yard apart. Very interesting, that. He was glad Julie seemed to like the boy. The way the trip had started, he'd been afraid of a disaster. Since meeting Nick, however, she'd been acting civil. Her resentment of Karen's presence seemed to have faded to the point where it was hardly noticeable. He supposed he could thank Nick for that.

And for picking up Julie's spirits in general. After getting dumped by that turkey, Clemens, she needed a friend.

O'Toole the matchmaker.

He took a small satchel and towel from his pack, and walked silently past the tent, heading for the stream. He smiled as he walked.

Julie would croak if she knew he'd planned it this way. When Flash first mentioned taking his family on a week-long backpacking trip, Scott had imagined spending time in the high mountains alone with Karen. It'd be a shame, though, to leave the kids home. Maybe a trip would help to pull Julie out of her depression. Then he thought of Flash's son, a handsome, reliable kid, a bit on the quiet side, but only a year older than Julie. If the two should hit it off at all, Julie might forget about that rat Clemens and start enjoying life again. So he'd suggested to Flash that their families join forces for the trip, and Flash had jumped at the idea.