Saturday

She used to sleepwalk when she was little.

Sometimes she'd wake up to find herself making a sandwich. Sometimes she didn't wake till morning, when she'd discover the jelly-smeared knife in the sink.

When she wakes this morning to find her panties balled up in the corner of the tent, sopping wet, she wonders if she can claim to have been sleepwalking.

x x x x x

Friday

It's hot, and she can't sleep.

She's trying to, desperately. Michael is sure to have a full day of team-building, morale-boosting, productivity-increasing exercises for them tomorrow. If tonight's campfire was any indication of what lays ahead, she hopes Jim has a good prank planned.

Just now, she's tossing, wondering how Phyllis can possibly sleep. She can hear her breathing lightly next to her, once in a while making a sound that's almost a giggle. She wishes her sweet, refrigerated dreams, and quietly exits the tent.

The air is humid and heavy with honeysuckle. Even the crickets have been oppressed into silence. The moon rests behind clouds, creating a strange half-glow that makes Jim's teeth stand out when he smiles at her.

"Can't sleep?" he whispers.

"Nope."

"Me either. Take a walk?"

"Sure."

They walk in silence at first. The dew is cool on her toes, and when she looks down at them, she sees that Jim is barefoot. The tendons in his feet flex in and out of view as he walks. She wants to trace one from toe to instep with her fingertip.

When they're out of sight of the tents, he speaks. "So I think I've thought of something."

The prank. "Excellent. What?"

"This way." He turns toward the lake. She follows him down a long hill, into the trees.

"Ooo, slather him with honey, and leave him for the bears?"

He chuckles. "Do you want to spread honey on Dwight?"

She grimaces. "Eee. You're right. What was I thinking?" She tries to shake off the image.

The path comes out onto the shore. "Watch your step." He leads her down to a small dock.

"When did you find this?"

"While everyone was figuring out their tents."  The wooden dock is smooth under her feet.

"Nice. So what's the plan?"

"Two words: lake creature."

"Oooohhh! Yes! Like the one on -?"

"Yeah. Do you think he'll buy it?"

"Are you kidding? That's his favorite episode. Awesome."

"Thanks."  They reach the end. The moon has eluded the clouds, and the ripples at their feet have silver edges now. The water directly ahead forms a tiny bay, protected by a semi-circle of forested shore. "Nice spot."

"Mm. So quiet." She sits down and pulls off her sandals. The water is much warmer than the dew. "Ahhh."

Jim lowers himself beside her. "Save some for me." And for some reason, the words make her insides jump. To distract herself, she leans down, splashing water up onto her shins. But his feet are there, and his ankles, and his shins, two calves, a couple knees.... She gives him a splash for good measure. "Thanks. So I figure I tell Dwight I saw something down here tonight, and he'll come investigate tomorrow night. But here's the thing: we need a creature."

She sits upright. "Not you?"

"Well, I'd do it, but if I'm not there when he sees it, he'll know I'm behind it -"

"I'll do it."

He looks surprised.

"Seriously, he'll never know it's me. Just show me what to do."

Something changes imperceptibly in his expression.

"Oh, god, he won't shoot me, will he? Tell me you'll frisk him before you come down here."

"Absolutely not." He looks horrified, then reassures her. "I promise he won't have any weapons more dangerous than his own hands."

"I can live with that. So, what's your vision, maestro?"

"Okay," and his voice carries the familiar excitement, "see that log over there on the right? You should be able to hide behind that whenever you need air,..."

"Okay..."

"...and between breaths, you can, I don't know, just move around a lot, popping up some part or other, to keep him guessing."

She giggles. "Some part or other?"

"Yeah, if you do it right, he'll report a creature with five legs or two heads or... well, you get the picture."

She grins.

"What d'you think?"

"I think we need to rehearse." She's dying to get into the water.

"Reh-?"

"Turn around." His eyes follow her fingers to the hem of her t-shirt. It takes him a moment to realize she's stopped moving. He looks up quickly.

"Right." He turns around so that he sits facing the shore. He mutters, "Turning around, noticing nothing..."

She quickly strips to her bra and panties, and slips into the water. It sweeps deliciously over her skin as she swims out to the log. When she reaches the far side, she peeks over it, and whispers loudly. "Can you see me?"

He whispers loudly back. "Yes."

"No! Wait." She ducks. "How ‘bout now?"

"That's better. Now act creature-ish."

She breaks a twig off the log, takes a deep breath, and sinks. She swims around the open area, holding the twig so that it forms wake patterns when she's near the surface. The moon is bright now, and when she pokes up an elbow now and then, a knee, a heel, two hands together to resemble a fin, it looks as though she's painting her body with ripples.

When she resurfaces behind the log, she takes a moment to catch her breath before calling softly, "How was that?"

Silence, but for the water lapping at the log. She peeks over the log again.

"Jim?"

She can't see the end of the dock where it sits under the trees. She clutches the log and squints.

"Jim? Jim!"

"Yes?"

He's right behind her, and when she screams, his hand flies around to cover her mouth. The force of it pulls her backward against him. He laughs softly in her ear. "Shh! You'll wake the whole camp!"

She giggles in relief and tries to ignore the twisty feeling in her tummy. She breaks free and swims a short distance away before turning. "How did I do?"

He's grinning. The muscles above his shoulders bunch as he treads water. "I like the stick - great idea. Ooo! Maybe let your hair drag on the surface."

"Like this?" She puts her face down in the water and moves across in front of him. It's hard to keep her rear end down out of sight. She's mostly successful. When she looks up again, he's trying not to smile.

"Yeah, exactly like that."

She splashes him. "Shut it."

"Oh, that reminds me. Splash here and there. Do you know how to make a water spout?" He cups his hands together and squeezes, and a stream of water shoots up from between them.

She imitates him and produces a decent little fountain of water. "But from underwater, right?" She takes a deep breath and slips under, watching her hands at the surface. When she squeezes them, the water a few feet away is disturbed by the spout. She practices a few more times, then looks over to see the ripples playing on Jim's chest and stomach. His boxers billow a bit as he kicks. The water's too deep here to see his feet.

She turns slightly and squirts in his direction.

His muscles tell her he's laughing before the sound reaches her. Then he slips under, his arms crossed on his chest, and gives her a chastising look. Her own arms are still stretched toward the surface, something she doesn't notice until his expression falters and his eyes flit briefly downward. When they meet hers again, they hold the moon.

Her hands come down slowly, and as she turns to face him, she's surprised they don't move to cover her. Instead, they scull lightly at her sides. His arms have fallen as well, but she can only see his eyes, almost feel them as his gaze leaves a trail over her skin. The sensation brings heat and goosebumps at the same time, and she begins to move toward him.

He looks back up when he realizes she's getting closer, his expression somewhere between terror and hunger.

When she's close enough, she reaches for his hands and, holding his eyes with hers, places them on her breasts.

His eyes close and he swallows. His hands rest on the lace, warm and gentle. Then, his fingertips begin to slowly, lightly, trace the edge of the fabric. When he opens his eyes again, they don't waver from hers, even as his fingers slide between her breasts, down her side, and around to her lower back, where they flirt with the elastic there.

She doesn't notice they've broken the surface until she sees water dripping from his ears.

He kisses her once, wet and warm, lingering.

Then his lips are gone, and his thumbs are tracing her cheekbones, her temples. She opens her eyes to find him looking at her as though he's trying to memorize her face.

She follows the moon in his eyes until he's finished.

x x x x x

Saturday

She dresses slowly, remembering.

She zips the tent screen carefully, deliberately. When she can't stall any longer, she slips on her sandals and walks to the picnic tables, blindly putting a bagel and a banana on her plate. She's peeling her breakfast when he takes a seat next to her.

His fingers hold the coffee mug protectively, caressing the heated ceramic. He lifts it to his lips and blows gently across the top, then takes a tentative sip. When he sets it down, he taps the rim lightly with his thumb.

Even after he clears his throat, his voice is morning hoarse.

"Did I ever tell you I was a sleepwalker when I was little?"

"No."

He nods. "Mm-hm."

She looks at him until he meets her eyes. She smiles. "Me, too."

He laughs softly and looks back down at his coffee. "Huh. Imagine that."

"Yeah. Imagine." She bumps his arm with her shoulder, and they eat in silence.

After a while, she says, loud and innocent, "So, what was that you were telling me about the lake?"

He looks confused, then remembers. He looks up, then around to find Dwight. He spots him nearby, and winks at her.

"You'll never believe what I saw there last night."

She tries not to grin as Dwight's head whips around.

This is going to be fun.