"Let go of me now!"

"Or what?" He threw my words back at me, pressed against me making his arousal obvious. This violence was turning him on. Sara stood beside him, leaning against him and also against me, her breast flattening against mine.

I squirmed. "You fucking leave me be, both of you. What if I tell Jeff you harassed me."

Greg laughed, Sara joining in. "Tell him. It'll get you nowhere. We've nothing to fear from Jeff or Chrissy."

I had no idea what he meant, not then, not until much later.

Greg's hand explored my body as though I was a willing partner. I slapped them away, but as fast as I did Sara's fingers replaced his. They prodded and pulled and pinched and I slapped Greg's face and he laughed.

"Hit me again, Dani, you know I like rough."

"Get her down. Hold her," Sara said, her eyes bright.

I raised my knee hard but I'm no fighter and Greg avoided me easily. His foot swept behind mine, unbalancing me. I landed hard on my side and Greg dragged me along the narrow porch, partially out of sight behind the railings. While he knelt across me and held my arms Sara started unbuttoning my shirt. I rolled my head, rocked my body but to no effect. Sara grabbed my breasts through my bra, squeezing them painfully.

"Nice tits," she said, pushing her fingers inside the white cups.

"Undo me," Greg said.

Sara grinned. "I want to watch."

"Sure. I want you to watch."

Sara loosened Greg's belt. A sense of total unreality enfolding me. What the hell did they think they were doing? Six in the afternoon, the sun still high, people walking around and soon they'd be going in to dinner and... soon everyone would go in to dinner and no-one would be around...

Sara managed to get Greg's pants open and reached inside, struggling to pull his rigid cock from his shorts.

"Dani!"

They froze at Jack's voice.

"Dani, you here? I thought we were going sailing."

"Jack!"

He heard the panic in my voice, his feet loud on the porch and Sara spun away and put herself between him and Greg. Jack kept coming, pushing her aside as like a bundle of straw. Greg rolled off me, stood and faced Jack.

"What the fuck's going on here!" Jack's voice had never sounded so cold, so filled with anger.

"Just a little fun."

"Jack." My voice was weak and I held my hand to him, not sure I could rise on my own. He leaned toward me and grabbed my hand, his touch comforting. Everything was going to be okay now.

Except Greg pushed him and Jack fell sideways against the cabin wall.

"We haven't finished. Dani's begging for it. You know what a slut she is."

Jack hadn't fallen. He used the wall to launch himself at Greg, grabbed him around the shoulders and they both tumbled backwards. They hit the railing and I heard it crack as they fell through, wood splintering. They rolled across the grass. I discovered I could stand without any help, followed through the broken rail and rained punches down on Greg's back. He sat on top of Jack, hitting his face and chest. Then someone hit me from behind and I turned to find Sara swiping at me. I'd had enough, way more than enough and I pushed her hard so she went down on her ass, her face a mask of shock. I followed through, landing on top of her, slapping her cheeks, her shoulders, her arms, and she tried to fight back but all I saw now red mist.

I might have killed herathough probably not, I was slapping, not punching, and her raised arms took most of my blowsabut for hands pulling me back. I spun again, determined to face up to Greg, determined to put an end to this stupid feud but it wasn't Greg but Jack. He put his arms round me, holding me as I collapsed against his chest.

Greg rose to his feet, a hand to his nose leaking blood, all the fight gone from him. He helped Sara and they stepped away, far enough to be out of reach if Jack decided to attack again.

"This isn't over," Sara said, her voice bitter.

"Get lost," I said, surprised how firm my voice sounded. "Grow up and stop this stupid feud now. I don't even know what this is all about." I glared at Greg. "We had a fling. Two years ago, for god's sake, for two weeks, and then you ruined any chance we ever had! What the hell is this all about?"

Greg didn't reply, his eyes burning, and at that moment I'm not sure he knew himself. Things had gone too far, emotions ramped so high he couldn't back down. But he would. This had to stop.

"Fuck off," Jack said, and they turned, Sara throwing a final bitter glance at me. If not for Sara Greg might've stopped our feud, but something in Sara couldn't be tamed, a wildness like the wildness in Cherri except with Cherri it was positive, a thing of joy that in Sara had turned dark and bitter, poisoning her soul.

I hugged Jack and whispered, "Thanks," against his chest.

"You have to tell Jeff and Chrissy. You can't ignore this."

"Greg's been warned off now. It'll be okay." I pulled away from Jack's arms, surveyed the damage to the railing. "I'd better go report this though."

"How are you going to explain it?"

"I'll tell them I tripped and fell through."

Jack laughed. "Sure, they'll believe that."

"Of course they will."

"Dani, you don't weigh a hundred pounds. Who's gonna believe you could break those railings?"

I shrugged. I didn't care. Believe me or not, that was the only explanation I'd give. "Don't say a word to Cherri. I want this to blow over, not get fanned."

"I think you should tell her." The way Jack looked at me my face turned warm, something in his eyes, something loving but hurt that brought a pain to my chest. He was a good man, and I didn't deserve him to think the way he did about me.

"I'll think about it."

"I guess the sailing's off."

I shook my head. "Give me ten to report the railing. I'll meet you on the jetty. I need to let the wind blow through my head."

Jack nodded. "You're amazing."

I laughed. "Sure I am"

"I mean it, you are."

"So do I."

Jack grinned, not believing a word, same as me.

I didn't get to develop the film that night because I'd forgotten Friday was show night. Cherri's kids, and those from the dance and performing arts classes put on a show every Friday after dinner. Cherri and I had to go, in fact almost the entire camp were in the big barn where a makeshift stage had been created from bales. We sat through some dance, a short play, and then Cherri's group came on, individually or formed into groups and played and sang. Cherri played too, singing three covers in her husky, sexy voice. By the time the concert finished I was too tired to think about going to the darkroom and collapsed into bed.

The days went on. Cherri and I talked with Brian and Jack, and Tuesday after dinner Jack took us both out in his dinghy and sailed us around the lake. Cherri loved it, and I realized I was beginning to get comfortable in the tiny craft. Jack sat at the backathough he kept telling us to call it the sternadoing his steering and tacking thing, while Cherri and I lounged at the front. Jack's eyes flicked between us, eating us both, obviously enjoying having two girls in his boat and we played up to him, wrapping our legs together, shifting when the boat turned so we rubbed against each other and even though we were only teasing Jack it felt pretty damn good to me. Our display also had a pretty visible effect on Jack. He wore a pair of loose shorts beneath a camp sweatshirt and we both saw the thick ridge formed as his cock stiffened.

When we came back Cherri walked on ahead to the cabin, leaving me to say goodnight to Jack. He kissed me and pressed his cock against my belly and I said, "Not tonight, Jack," and he nodded, accepting my refusal, a perfect gentleman and I liked him for that. I wasn't ready for sex with him yet. Maybe never.

When I got back to the cabin Cherri was in the shower. I checked on the kids, sat on a few bunks and caught up on their day, called in on Mandy who was reading a Stephen King and we laughed as she told me how the book scared her but she couldn't stop reading. Cherri was in bed when I got back, her face glowing, hair damp.

I went to shower and when I got back she was asleep.

The time went fast, one day following the next, then the next Friday night after the concert, as we lay in bed across from each other Cherri said, "Tomorrow, Dan."

"What about tomorrow?"

"You can't have forgotten. Tomorrow, yeah?"

"Tomorrow?"

She rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand. "Don't be dense, Dan. You're taking my picture. Tomorrow." She stared at me.

"Haven't changed your mind?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Nope. Have you?"

I shook mine back. I hadn't, though I'd half wondered if she might've forgotten. Half hoped she had, half feared she hadn't.

"Tomorrow then," I said.

Cherri grinned. "Yeah."

I lay exhausted in bed unable to sleep, arousal surging through me. Across the room Cherri breathed softly, asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow. I rolled onto my side and reached under my pillow for the film canister that still lay there. It felt hot within my palm, the mere idea of what might exist on the film making me shiver. I touched my breasts, naked beneath my t-shirt, found my nipples rigid, stupidly sensitive, so sensitive I was barely able to touch them, so sensitive I had to touch. Images of Cherri sprawled across the wooden bench in the darkroom replayed through my mind, the way her fingers moved slowly inside herself as her stomach clenched and thighs shook.

I rolled the film canister over my nipples, the thought of the latent images causing an odd thrill to run through my body. I slid the aluminum cylinder down, pushed my hand inside my panties and touched myself. I was so wet, so horny. I needed to bring myself relief. I tucked the film back beneath the pillow and rolled onto my back, slipped my panties down on my thighs and slid two fingers into my pussy, instantly soaking them. My knees lifted the thin blanket and I worked fast, fingers inside, thumb hard against my clitoris. Within moments my breath grew ragged, within minutes the bed shook as I went into spasm, biting down on my forearm to stifle a scream.

Afterward I left my fingers inside, relishing the wantonness of what I had done. I sighed deeply and rolled onto my side again. Maybe now I could finally sleep.

"Better?" Cherri said from out of the dark.

"Um... I thought you were asleep."

"Obviously." A giggle followed.

I was at a complete loss, embarrassed Cherri had witnessed my lack of control. The silence stretched, uncomfortable for me. Finally Cherri said, "G'night then, Dan."

"Goodnight, Cherri."

Sunday I rose early despite not getting to sleep until almost dawn. Early but not so early all the kids and Mandy hadn't already gone for breakfast. Cherri lay on her back, mouth open, dead to the world. Silently I dressed in cargo pants and shirt, slipped on my fishing vest which had dried with stains running through it and tiptoed out. All over camp kids and counselors were starting their day. Scratch games of soccer, baseball and volleyball were beginning. I saw Brian leading a group of kids out on horseback for the eight mile trek around the lakeshore. He looked good, moving as one with the animal beneath, long hair blowing in the breeze. Out on the lake kayaks formed a line, making their way over the still water like a line of ducks. I heard music of different kinds coming from several cabins and smiled. I felt like myself again, dressed in combat gear, vest weighed down with the Nikon, which had dried okay, and the two long lenses, hiking boots encasing my feet making me stick to the ground like I was held by magnets. I climbed the hillside and slipped between the trees, following a trail north toward the barn I had seen from the dinghy when Jack took me sailing.

The sound of camp fell away behind, replaced by the not quite silence of the woods. My feet crunched through dead leaves and pine needles. The scent of the woods filled my head, the dim coolness calming me, allowing me to stop spinning my wheels thinking about Cherri. Thinking about what we did last night, about what she heard me doing, about what I kept dreaming I wanted to do, Cherri and me, what I so wanted to do with her.

After a while I guessed I was too high so when a narrow trail led downhill I followed, branching off again a moment later. I came out on a pebble beach, trees crowding close to the water. Over the lake the kayaks had split up. Dinghies now joined them, faint voices carrying to shore as counselors shouted instructions. The buzz of the safety boat rose and fell, surging forward, slowing, the nose rising sharply before dipping back.

I turned right and pushed through undergrowth, briars and fallen branches catching at my vest until I came to a wide track deeply rutted by wheels. The track rose up the hillside behind, disappearing into the woods. A hundred yards ahead in the other direction the track ended at the barn, which appeared even more romantic from this side, leaning drunk on aged timbers, a platform protruding from the upper floor above which stood a stout post that still held a rusted pulley. I imagined this place a century before, loading wheat or barley onto boats.

I walked down the track to the barn. Wide double doors hung askew, a thick chain that once held them secure hanging loose where the wood had rotted around its clasps. Inside shafts of light entering through broken planks illuminated the large space. Bales of straw were piled on the far side, closer old stable blocks lined the nearer wall. The upper floor covered half the top area. A wide-runged ladder led upward.

I took a light reading, set the Nikon to f5.6 and 1/125th of a second so the focal length was shallow and ran off half a dozen shots, moving around the ground floor, kneeling, standing on tiptoe, framing the images without thinking, working with light and shadow. When I was ready I stamped hard on the bottom rung of the ladder. It held firm and I repeated the action all the way up. Inside the barn was still dry with little sign of rot, an air of long abandonment gathered about itself as though no-one had entered here for decades.

A thrill ran through me. This was my place now, my secret place, a refuge from the madness of camp and the madness of my own thoughts.

I tested each step as I made my way to the platform extending over the lake. The floor was good, solid pine boards which drifted dust as I stamped on each but held firm. The platform was closed off by smaller twin doors and I tugged at them. Nothing held them closed but neglect, and after straining and pulling the right hand door came reluctantly back and sunlight flooded the barn. I stepped outside, the air suddenly cooler. Even out here the floor was solid beneath me and I walked to the edge, grasped the thick frame supporting the roof and leaned out to stare into feet of water, the lake so deep beneath I saw no sign of the bottom. I loved this place already.

I took more shots over the lake, but they were only landscape, it was the interior that fascinated me. I turned back inside, jumped up and down and ran shots off capturing the drifting dust moving through sunbeams.

More bales of straw were piled up and I pulled them into a chair and sat, resting the camera on the makeshift arm. The seat was surprisingly comfortable. I got up and dragged another bale over, sneezing at the thick cloud rising from its movement, sat again and put my feet up. Better.

I lifted the camera and took another photograph before the dust settled, leaned back and closed my eyes, lids pink from the sun splashing me, falling on my face and chest, warm and comforting as I drifted.

I awoke cold. The sun had moved round, leaving my side of the barn in shade. I glanced at my watch, amazed to find it was mid-afternoon. God, I must have needed to catch up on my sleep. Still I made no move, lethargic, my body soft and indolent. I lifted my hand and touched my breast, placing my palm over the full mounds. My secret place, my secret safe place. I twisted a button loose, another, thinking of nothing other than the complete stillness of my body and deep inside a trembling need that seemed constantly present these last weeks. When my shirt was open I ran a finger along the top of my bra, shivering at the sensation against my skin. I sat forward and unclipped myself, letting my bra drop into my lap. The air on my breasts brought my nipples erect and I touched them, pulled on them. I was no stranger to onanism but usually found my efforts accompanied by a rushed sense of guilt. In my own bed I feared discovery by my parents or brother. Last night I'd been overheard by Cherri. In this barn I could be myself, free, liberated.

I leaned over and pulled off my boots, stood, unclipped my pants, unzipped and let them fall, bent and tugged my panties down. I slipped from my shirt and dropped my loosened bra on the bale forming the side of the makeshift chair. I sat, straw prickling against my bare ass forcing me to stand. I stretched, naked. Sunlight flooded the far side of the barn and I walked across the dusty boards, turned to face the sun, its rays warming my skin. I touched my breasts again, allowed my hand to drift down where it needed to be, jerking when my fingers reached their target, almost too sensitive to bear. My fingers found me wet... no, soaking, wetter than I ever recalled, a climax lurking ready to pounce, my entire body a mass of nerve endings each crying out for stimulation. I walked quickly back to the makeshift bench and leaned back, ignoring the pinch of straw beneath me, the tweak only adding to my arousal. I spread my legs wide, lifting my heels to rest them on the bales and plunged three fingers frantically inside myself. I was sure I would come almost at once, but instead I peaked fast, held against the precipice for an age, working myself to the tipping point then holding, working harder, drawing closer before reaching another plateau. I'd never experienced anything like the next half hour, my body almost too sensitive to touch but each touch triggering new waves of pleasure. I rocked from side to side, rolled over to my knees and thrust my ass in the air, my breasts shaking and swaying beneath me, my hand touching them: light, hard, squeezing, stroking, pulling.

The moment grew closer and I rolled back, watching my fingers enter myself, the tension drawn like a bowstring ready to loosen, drawing closer, drawing tighter, and then I was tumbling, shuddering and gasping, trying to force my entire fist inside myself and my pussy ejaculated against my hand, another first, wetness covering my fingers and splashing on the dusty floor. I shivered, jerked and fell back exhausted, my fingers lying alongside my leg, my breath loud in the quite confines of the barn.

"Oh Cherri..." I whispered into the fragrant dusky air inside the barn, knowing now where I had to bring her when I took her photograph.

Chapter 15.

Early next Saturday we grabbed breakfast as soon as the refectory opened and managed to beg extra rolls, some cheese and apples. I called into the darkroom and stocked up on fresh film, adding one of my own spools of high quality transparency. As I packed everything into the pockets of my fishing vest I discovered my hands trembling and finally admitted to myself I was turned on at the idea of what we were going to do. I'd been trying to ignore all thoughts of the coming photo shoot but now the day had arrived I was ready. When I walked out Cherri waited outside grinning.

I think she'd dressed specially for the trip: the same short filmy skirt she'd worn on the day we met, a dusky red tank top showing the edges and straps of a pale blue bra, and walking sandals I'd never seen before. So Cherri could be practical when she chose.

"Any idea where we're going?" Cherri asked.

"I've got somewhere might be good." I had been to the old barn a few times by myself, though never quite repeating the madness of my first visit. I was ready to show my secret place to Cherri. I led the way up the hill, the route familiar now, following the main trail for three hundred yards, turned left downslope and after another hundred yards we came out on the old rutted trail.