Tree Fantasy

I'm quite sure that I've never been so mortified in my entire life.

Not that I'm going to let anyone else know how embarrassed I am.

I'm just going to make myself comfortable on this branch and wait until I either wake up from this hysterical little nightmare, or fall out of my tree.

Damn.

There go my keys.

Oops, I can hear someone coming, a jogger by the sounds of it, coming into the park. I lean casually against the trunk, the perpetrator of my folly curled up and happily purring in my lap. As well she might.

The jogger passes under my tree, and I put my discomfort on hold as I admire the scenery. Long muscular legs, highlighted by the dark blue running shorts over slim hips and the Nike's, on his feet. I don't really get much further as he starts to pass out of my view. I hear the footsteps stop, and lean over to look.

He comes back into view as he's obviously spotted my keys. He bends down to pick them up giving me a glorious birds-eye view of a fabulously tight butt. He straightens and looks about as if searching for the owner.

I clear my throat loudly, and he turns in confusion. I call to him, and he looks up, surprise evident in sparkling blue eyes. I politely ask him to leave the keys at the foot of the tree so that I can pick them up when I come down.

He obliges and asks if I need any help. I laugh, and tell him blithely that I like sitting half-way up sprawling oak trees; it gives one a different perspective on life. He smiles uncertainly, a flash of white in his handsome face, then nods, bidding me farewell as he returns to his run.

When he's gone, I curl up as the mortification overwhelms me, my aggravating, beloved moggy protesting with a quiet mew. The first cute guy I've seen in an age, and he must think that I'm completely insane.

I watch other people come and go, more joggers along with dog-walkers and skaters. The handful that see me give me strange looks and move hurriedly on. It's a big park; a nature reserve really, nearly ten miles square and it's easy to spend all day wandering through it.

And now it's starting to rain. Correction; it is raining. Hard. My traitorous moggy jumps a foot in the air when the first drop hits her, and with a confidence that was sorely lacking when she was crying for me to climb up the tree and get her, she virtually runs down the trunk and sprints for home, just across the way.

Great.

I hear footsteps again, and pray they don't see me; my humiliation would be complete. But fate is working against me today and the footsteps slow beneath the tree. I peek over my arm and see a pair of familiar blue eyes looking up at me.

I could do with a really, really big hole to open up about now and swallow me and my tree up whole. Please. I'm begging here.

The jogger folds his bare arms over his broad chest, raindrops glistening as they run down his bunched biceps, and cocks his head to the side. He asks me if I'm sure I'm all right, and I reply yes, of course, it's not even that wet with the leaves above giving some vague semblance of shelter. I even add inanely that he shouldn't be standing under a tree in a storm.

Naturally, perfectly timed, a large splodge of water falls down from somewhere above and lands on my head and runs down my face, a good portion of it dripping off the end of my nose as I blink owlishly down at him. He laughs and it's a soft, rather pleasant sound, that makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, despite my embarrassment, and I laugh nervously back.

He suggests that I should get home and dry, and to my surprise and delight, offers to buy me a drink to warm me up. I accept eagerly, then stuttering, decline and he looks disappointed, throwing me the most adorable puppy dog looks.

I blush and admit, with halting words, that I can't get down.

I don't look at him as I expect gales of laughter followed by footsteps running away. I only hear rustling and a grunt. I peer down and my disappointment is complete as he is nowhere to be seen.

I jump as something taps me on the shoulder and turn my head to come nose to nose with the jogger, who's grinning at me, cheeky dimples and deep blue eyes flashing at me merrily.

The rain has stopped, but we're both soaked by now, and I lick rainwater away from my mouth, as I watch rivulets cascading from his short, drenched hair, following their trails over high cheekbones and strong jaw.

He asks me to shunt forward and I do, rough bark scraping at the inside of my legs. He climbs up behind me and slips strong hands round my waist, leaning his chin on my shoulder.

He tells me I'm right, the perspective from up here is certainly different...

...We perch there in silence for a few moments. Me, because I'm having problems remembering how to breathe. Him, probably because he's trying to work out what he's doing here, up a tree with a madwoman.

The warmth of his hands feels like it's practically raising steam from my damp clothes, and I'm very conscious of the pressure of his chin, and his rain-slicked cheek bare inches from mine as he peers over my shoulder, none of which is helping much with the breathing thing. I try to focus on something else, but everything that springs to mind just seems to make matters worse.

He's obviously faring better with his dilemma, though, because he slides by to sit down on the branch next to me, rubbing a forearm across his face to wipe away the water, those long legs dangling. I register a fleeting moment of distress at the loss of contact as he moves his hands, until I realise he still has one arm wrapped almost protectively around my waist, as if afraid I'm going to jump or something. Nothing could be further from my mind at this moment, but I have no inclination to tell him that.

He asks if I come here often, the old line forcing a hiccup of laughter from me which miraculously also reminds my lungs what they're there for. Gulping in air and raising a hand to push back tendrils of wet hair from my forehead, I shoot him a sideways glance to find him watching me, a small smile curving his mouth and eyes full of humour. But doesn't he know, I query in mock surprise, waving a hand airily around the still dripping greenness surrounding us, that this is currently the 'in' place to be, especially on lovely afternoons like this. He laughs again, bringing back that warm fuzzy feeling, and tells me he should have guessed that when he saw me up here. His voice is soft and delightfully accented, I notice, which starts to turn my insides from fuzzy into mush.

Now the rain has stopped the park is beginning to come to life again and we're subjected to more strange looks from passers-by, but he just grins and waves casually at them, telling them we're exploring the broader issues of existentialism as they relate to arboreal life. This sends them scurrying on their way and reduces me to fits of nervous giggling which seems to amuse him greatly.

The air becomes chilled with the passing of the rain, and a cool breeze springs up which sets the leaves rustling and cuts through my wet clothes, raising goosebumps on my flesh. I shiver under its impact and he tightens his grip round my waist, the bare skin of his muscled thigh pressing against mine which oddly seems to have a localised effect in raising the temperature there.

He asks if the lure of the offered warming drink is any more appealing now, and I admit to myself with him doing the offering it's probably strong enough to have me sprouting wings and flying off this branch. But given that's unlikely to happen, I know I'll have to make it down the more mundane way, so with a sigh I look up at him and nod, trying not to think about how far down it is.

His dimpled smile is broad and encouraging, his eyes full of warmth and understanding, and for a brief moment I find myself struggling to remember where I am. But he draws away to pull himself easily to his feet, moving behind me on the branch again and suggesting I shift along a bit so I can turn round and see where we're going.

The thought of leaving my secure position by the trunk brings the fear flooding back, and I have to take deep breaths to calm myself. Muttering under my breath about Tiggers not climbing trees and being better off taking up swimming instead, I do as I'm told to find him already standing on the next branch down looking up at me. He grins and says that he thought climbing trees was what Tiggers did best, before patting my knee and indicating I should turn over and slide down to join him. I give him a 'Doh!' look, reminding him that it's not so much that they can't climb trees, just that they can only climb up them because their tails get in the way when they climb downwards.

His grin broadens and he puts both hands onto my branch again, biceps and shoulder muscles bunching as he pulls himself effortlessly up a bit to peer round behind me. A flush rises through me as I realise he's examining my rear, but I have to smile when he drops back and informs me that in that case we're going to be just fine because unless I'm hiding it somewhere there's no tail in sight.

He waits patiently for me to move and eventually I do, rolling onto my stomach to inch my way backwards and down, feet seeking out the branch below. His hands come up to grip my waist again, talking to me continuously, telling me exactly how far I still have to go. Once I get past a sudden breathlessness, which I tell myself is all due to incipient panic and in no way indicates a reaction to the warmth of his touch, I start to feel much more secure. In what seems like no time at all I'm standing beside him, and he gives me a nod of approval before offering his hand to help me sit again ready for the next bit.

With the first hurdle over my confidence grows, and by the time we reach the bottom I'm actually beginning to enjoy myself a bit. This, of course, has nothing to do with the long moments spent pressed against his firm flesh while he manoeuvred us round the old oak's trunk to reach the next foothold, or the almost constant feel of his fingers against my arms, waist, legs or ankles as he guided me down.

He's there to catch me as I drop the final few feet to the ground, arms closing around me as I stumble slightly and preventing me falling by gathering me to him, hands rubbing at my back. I lean into him a little dazedly, my body registering every point of contact.with his and using the sensations to feed the little fire that's starting to burn inside me. But the afternoon has turned to early evening while we've been occupied with our descent and the cool breeze has turned decidedly cold. Although the exercise - and my current situation - has proved warming, I'm shivering again and the still damp fabric of his clothes feels chilled under my fingers.

I pull away, looking up at him to smile shyly, thanking him for his help and asking tentatively if I can repay him by offering him that drink and somewhere to dry off. He looks quizzical, his left eyebrow rising and a lop-sided smile playing around his lips, so I explain that my house is nearby and providing my keys are still where he left them we can be in the warm in a few minutes. He turns back to the tree, bending to retrieve the keys and giving me another flash of that butt which does nothing to quench the growing flames, before handing them to me with a flourish.

I take that as acceptance of my invitation, and the fire grows a little stronger as I lead him out of the darkening park and across the road to my little abode. I'm very conscious of him standing close beside me while I fumble with the lock and for the sake of my rapidly increasing pulse rate I'm glad when I can push the door open and flick on the lights. He follows me into my sitting room, looking around while I fuss about drawing curtains, turning on the heating and fetching towels and a couple of blankets.

My irritatingly serene striped moggy blinks innocently at me from where she's curled up in the centre of my bed, asking what took me so long, and I treat her to a sour look as I carry my bundle back to my guest, asking him if he'd like tea, coffee or something a little stronger. He seems much bigger in here, filling the small space with his presence, and my eyes are drawn again to the broadness of his chest and shoulders under the thin vest before running down to admire the firm tightness of his waist and hips.

He clears his throat, which drags my gaze up to his face to see him grinning down at me, blue eyes dancing with laughter, and I am hugely embarrassed to realise he is obviously only too aware of my train of thought. He says coffee would be fine, so I gesture speechlessly towards the towels lying on the sofa and flee to the kitchen where I busy myself filling the kettle and finding clean mugs as I attempt to control my shivering and regain my composure.

There's a noise behind me and I turn to find him standing in the doorway, blanket draped round his shoulders and towel in hand. He smiles, telling me that can wait until I've got myself dried off, and advances towards me holding out the towel. The fire within me burns even hotter but that only seems to make me shiver more, and I can see the concern in his eyes as he removes his blanket and leans closer to wrap it round me.

That doesn't seem to create any immediate improvement in my condition, so he moves closer still to gather me into his arms as he did at the bottom of the tree, rubbing at my still chilled flesh through the soft wool of the blanket. With a sigh, I slide my hands round his waist and let my head sag onto his shoulder, relaxing against him, feeling that inner heat starting to radiate outwards to finally reach my skin where it meets the warmth I can feel emanating from him.

The sound of the kettle boiling percolates through my contented state, and I raise my head to look round at it. Somehow, though, I find myself staring up into his face, hungrily taking in the strength of his features, the deep blueness of his eyes under the straight eyebrows, the fullness of his lips, lips which I now very badly want to taste.

Luckily for me, it seems he's forgotten I'm the madwoman he found up a tree and I feel him pull me tighter to him, his face drawing nearer, eyes growing larger until they fill my vision. Then his lips softly meet mine, and as I give full rein to the flames now raging through me, I think vaguely that as rewards for getting stuck up trees go, this is probably as good as it gets - but resolve to try and find Tigger something she'll enjoy just as much next time I go to the supermarket...

FINIS