Sex, Lies And Edelweiss

by J. L. Merrow

  "Quite right, darling. And how many serious relationships have you had since then?"

  "I've been busy," he protested. "Studying and...studying."

  "You passed all your legal exams years ago, darling. Although I've never understood why you didn't want to go on to be a barrister, instead of sitting in an office all day dealing with conveyances and wills. I always thought you only wanted to go into law for the wigs and gowns." Her face brightened. "I remember Serry telling me how much you enjoyed dressing up in her clothes when you were little--"

  "Mim!" Simon looked around anxiously, but no one appeared to have heard.

  "Anyway, unless you've been doing some Open University degree you've been too embarrassed to tell me about, there hasn't been any studying for you to do for a long time," she continued.

  Simon adjusted his glasses. "I've just been...busy with other things, that's all."

  He'd never been more thankful to see the arrival of the soup.

  * * * *

  Matt remembered to smile as he served the guests. Nobody tipped a miserable waiter. God, the woman was all over Simon, wasn't she? Smiling and teasing him--Matt could recognize Simon's look of embarrassment a mile off--and pawing all over him with those talons of hers. It was a wonder she could even lift her hands to do it with all those bloody rocks on her fingers.

  "You are bad-mooded tonight," Heike said as they met in the kitchen.

  "Don't know what you mean," Matt muttered. "And anyway, it's 'in a bad mood.' Which I'm not."

  "He did not let you shag him on the side?" she asked, just as the kitchen door opened and Herr Meissner walked in.

  Matt's stomach turned leaden. "Told you, Heike," he said loudly. "Me and Rudi on the boats are just good mates." He swept out with his plates. God, he hoped that suspicious glare on the manager's face wasn't for him. Good job he was used to thinking on his feet.

  Better steer well clear of Simon for tonight, though.

  * * * *

  Next morning, Simon was having a rather pleasant dream. It involved Matt and another visit to the woodshed, which had somehow become twice the size and been rather handily equipped with a king-sized bed. Matt was dressed in the cut-off denim shorts, but Simon himself appeared to be entirely naked, lying on the bed. His whole body tingled as Matt grinned and clambered on top of him. Soft kisses marked Matt's progress down Simon's chest, across his stomach and down farther still. Simon wriggled in delight and blinked as the sun streamed in through the thin curtains of the shed...

  Only to realize he'd woken up alone, in his room. Simon sighed, but a smile still lingered on his lips. He swung his feet to the carpet and padded over to the floor-length window wearing just his shorts, pulled aside the curtains and opened the door to the balcony.

  As Simon stepped outside, the sun on his face was already warm, but had yet to burn through the misty haze that cloaked the surrounding mountains, lending them an unreal air. There was an occasional rumble of traffic from the main road behind the hotel, but despite this, everywhere was clothed in an aura of peace and tranquility. The shimmering blue waters of the lake seemed to beckon to him once more, promising a cool respite from the heat of the day that was already beginning to gather strength.

  And he was seeing Matt later. At least, he hoped he was. Matt had proved unexpectedly elusive last night after dinner, and with the restaurant manager an ever-brooding presence, Simon hadn't liked to push it. He'd spent the evening losing vast sums of imaginary money to Mim at cards instead. He had a strong suspicion she'd been cheating, but he'd never been able to catch her at it yet.

  Simon knocked dutifully on Mim's door, but was unsurprised to find her absent from her room. Mim tended not to sleep well in a strange bed, so wasn't really one for company over breakfast. She preferred to wake up at her own pace over a strong black coffee and the society pages.

  She was just finishing up as he reached the dining room. Simon slid into the chair opposite hers and smiled. "Sleep well?"

  "Oh, you know, darling. Now you, on the other hand, look quite disgustingly well rested and cheerful. Pleasant dreams?"

  Simon's face grew a little warm.

  "I shan't enquire, then," she said, eyes twinkling. "Do you have plans for the day? Or should I not enquire about those either?"

  "Ah, was there anything you'd like to do?" Simon asked with a touch of desperation.

  "Oh, I think with the weather as it is, I shall stay by the pool. It would be criminal not to make the most of this lovely sunshine. And I met some absolutely fascinating people yesterday."

  By which, Simon knew, she meant men. Women tended not to fascinate Mim.

  "All taken, sadly, but one can't have everything."

  Simon caught sight of Matt over the other side of the dining room and looked down in a hurry before Mim's keen eyes could follow his gaze. "In that case, I think I'll just go for a wander. Explore the local environs, that sort of thing."

  "Well, as long as you remember to take precautions, darling."

  "Mim!" Simon squawked.

  Her eyes narrowed. "Mountain climbing can be dangerous. Or was it another kind of exploration you had in mind?" Mim's perfectly plumped lips quirked. "Just make sure you have all the proper equipment, that's all I ask." She rose and moved around the table to kiss him on the cheek, then swept out in a cloud of Coco Mademoiselle, leaving only an empty coffee cup and a half-eaten slice of dry toast in her wake.

  Feeling reprieved, Simon rose and collected an assortment of cold meats, cheese, and interesting bread rolls from the buffet. The scrambled eggs and bacon had looked enticing, but Simon would have been ashamed to choose anything so British. By the time he returned to his table, Matt was there to take his order for coffee. Simon couldn't help beaming at him.

  "What time do you finish here?" he asked, having cautiously looked around to ensure the manager was nowhere in sight.

  Matt grinned. "In about an hour, as long as everyone's finished breakfast and we've cleared away. Want to meet down by the lake?"

  Simon nodded.

  "Okay, how about the bit with all the trees, just down from Rudi's boat hire place? Oh--and wear your trunks, okay?"

  "That'd be perfect." As Matt left to attend to other tables, Simon tucked into his breakfast. He had a good feeling about today.

  * * * *

  An hour and a half later, Simon paced along the lake promenade, gazing across the water as he waited for Matt to turn up. The sky overhead was a pure, clear blue and, although the sun was beating down strongly for this time of the morning, clouds were gathering over the craggy tops of the mountains over by Strobl. Simon recalled that the weather forecast posted in the hotel lobby had warned of storms approaching.

  "Hi!" Matt's arrival brought Simon back to the here and now.

  Matt had changed into the casual clothes of the day before--at least, the cut-off denim shorts were the same, but the T-shirt was a new one, somewhat tighter than yesterday's. Simon could see the outline of Matt's nipple piercing through the thin cotton.

  "I thought perhaps we might go for a stroll around the lake?" Simon cringed internally at how pompous he sounded.

  Matt grinned. "Sounds great, but I've got a better idea. This way." He jerked his head toward the road.

  Simon followed him across the grassy verge, passing through the shade of the trees and emerging by a large, black motorbike.

  Simon swallowed. He couldn't help noticing there were two helmets, one slung on the handlebars and the other on the seat. "Yours?" he asked feebly.

  "Yeah, like it?" Matt gave the scuffed bodywork a fond caress. "It's not a bad little bike. What I'd really love is a Kawazaki ZX10. Those bikes go like you wouldn't believe--can do over a ton in first gear and they corner like they're on rails. But the Honda gets me around for now. Anyway, I thought we could go for a ride."

  "That'd be lovely." Simon tried to sound like he wasn't suffering abject terror at the prospect.

  He rather suspected he'd failed, as Matt flashed him a
blinding smile. "Don't worry. I'll take the corners slow. And you'll have this on," he added, chucking Simon a battered looking helmet.

  "Why is this dented?" Simon couldn't stop himself asking.

  "It came off the bike when I took a corner too fast one time," Matt said in an off-hand manner, picking up the second helmet.

  "Was anyone wearing it at the time?"

  Matt laughed. "No. I'd just dropped Rudi off at his place. Don't worry. I haven't killed anyone yet." He cocked his head to one side. "Don't tell me you've never been on a motorbike?"

  Simon shrugged, still awkwardly holding the helmet. "Everyone I knew had cars."

  "Well, there's nothing to it." Matt swung his leg over the bike and sat. "Just sit behind me, hold on tight and go with the flow. Relax; you'll be fine." He jammed his helmet onto his head.

  Simon swallowed again and followed suit, sitting gingerly behind Matt. He remembered to remove his sunhat and jam it in a pocket before easing his head into the helmet.

  "You can put your arms round my waist." Matt's voice was muffled.

  Feeling a bit self-conscious, Simon did as he was bid, his arms tightening involuntarily as the engine roared into life. It sounded impossibly loud, even with the helmet on, and he could feel the vibrations in his thighs--and then they were moving, the bike pulling away from the curb and into the road.

  Simon felt a rising panic as they approached the first corner. Matt was leaning into it--should he do the same? Or would their combined weight be too much for the bike and leave them sprawled and bloody at the side of the road? Perhaps, though, Matt was counting on Simon leaning, and if he didn't do so, they might not make it around the corner at all?

  Go with the flow, Matt had said. Simon leaned. The bike, miraculously, stayed on two wheels and returned to an upright position as they exited the curve and started to accelerate. As they zoomed down the road alongside the lake, the cool wind clutched at Simon's clothes. Matt's body was warm against his own, and the throbbing of the engine vibrated through them both. It felt extraordinarily intimate.

  It was exhilarating, watching the scenery zip past them, seeing walkers and cyclists fall far behind. As he breathed in lungfuls of the fresh mountain air, Simon felt sorry for the car drivers, sealed in their little metal boxes. Even the knowledge that only Matt's skill as a rider stood between them and a ninety mile-per-hour road rash now seemed more exciting than terrifying. Why the hell had Simon never tried this before? He almost laughed aloud at how nervous he'd been. Long-buried memories of being coaxed onto fairground rides by his mother came flooding back until he could almost see her smile and smell the candy floss.

  When Matt slowed and turned off the road to park in a small lay-by, Simon felt like a small child who'd had his ice cream taken away. Tearing off his helmet, he grinned widely at Matt. "That was brilliant! Do we have to stop now?"

  Matt pulled off his own helmet and laughed. "Well, seeing as we've got where we're going, yeah, we do. I'll take you for a longer ride next time," he added, his rough tone causing a sensation not unlike the throbbing of the Honda's engine in Simon's insides.

  "So, where are we?" Simon asked, looking around. There was a curious little round hut at one end of the lay-by. "What on earth is that?" He laughed self-consciously as a thought occurred to him. "I don't suppose you ever watch German children's TV?"

  Matt grinned. "Just how old do you think I am?"

  "Ah. Right. Well--don't laugh, but I used to watch it on satellite sometimes when I was first learning German. I remember a program called Meister Eder und sein Pumuckl. Ring any bells?"

  "No. What the bloody hell is a Pumuckl?"

  "I'm not sure, actually. Some kind of goblin, I think--but anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that this place looks exactly the sort of place a Pumuckl would live in. That's all." Simon cleared his throat.

  Matt was openly laughing at him. "It's the Franzosenschanze. It's a chapel, built by Napoleonic soldiers to commemorate their fallen comrades."

  "Ah. So no Pumuckls?"

  "Not a one. Sorry, and all that."

  Simon smiled. "You seem very well informed about the area."

  "Nah, there's a board up. Tells you all about it."

  They looked inside at a beautiful little shrine, bedecked with fresh flowers. And not a hint of graffiti.

  "I can't imagine anything like this in Britain," Simon mused.

  "There's stuff like this all over the place around here. S'pose it's because it's a Catholic country. It's kind of nice." Matt broke into a sudden grin. "But I didn't stop here just for that. Fancy a swim?"

  "Here?" Simon looked around.

  "Yeah, there's a landing stage down there, but no one ever seems to moor up at it. You sometimes see divers setting off from there. It's a good way of getting into the water--the stones are hell on bare feet if you just walk out from the beach."

  "Um, I haven't brought a towel..."

  "You don't need one! You'll dry off in minutes in this heat."

  It was undoubtedly true--Simon's shirt was already starting to stick to him. "Well..."

  "Come on!" Matt was already climbing the wooden fence bordering the path.

  Feeling very daring, Simon followed him down a grassy slope to a wooden jetty that stuck out into the water like a very short pier.

  "I like it around this side of the lake," Matt said as they reached the quay. "It's quieter--less chance of seeing anyone from the hotel. They all tend to go the other way, around the lake to Fürberg."

  "Oh? What's at Fürberg?"

  "Remember that bay we passed yesterday, where there was a hotel with loads of tables outside? That's Fürberg."

  Simon remembered it had looked rather inviting in its picturesque setting amongst the trees, the only building in sight. Still, this place was lovely, too--and its relative privacy was a definite advantage.

  Matt, of course, was stripping off his shirt as he went, baring that enviably tanned torso. Simon, on the other hand, possessed the almost luminous pallor of the office worker and the traditional Englishman's deep-seated aversion to revealing any more of himself than absolutely necessary. Said aversion seemed to have passed Matt by. When Simon looked around, he saw Matt unselfconsciously stepping out of his denim cut-offs to reveal skin-tight bathing shorts.

  His mouth going a little dry, Simon peeled off his outer layers with reluctance, folding them into a neat pile and placing his glasses on top. Matt threw him a grin and then dived smoothly into the lake, making Simon wonder just how deep the water was here. Gingerly, he lowered himself into its icy depths. "Good God, that's cold!"

  Matt had surfaced and laughed at him. "You'll get used to it. Watch out for the fish, though!"

  "Fish?" Simon looked down nervously, but the lake water wasn't clear enough to make out anything about to nibble at his toes or, indeed, any other parts of his anatomy. Although some parts were probably quite safe, having retreated inside his body at the shock of the Arctic water.

  "Yeah, they like to hang about the landing stage...don't know why. Feels a bit weird when they rub up against your ankles."

  Shivering, Simon decided to swim out a little from the jetty. The exercise would warm him up. He was relieved to discover a pocket of warmer water and basked there a moment.

  Matt didn't follow. "Not scared of a few fish, are you?" he teased, a sun-kissed blur in Simon's uncorrected vision. "They won't hurt you, you know." He swam along the shadowy edge of the dock toward the bank.

  Simon joined him. "Are you sure they won't bite--ah!" He started as something cold and slippery brushed intimately against his thigh. "Where are they? I can't even see them. Good Lord, there are hundreds of them!" His eyes, good enough at such short distances, had at last adjusted to the shadow, and he stared in amazement at what must be a fisherman's wet dream. His initial estimate of their number might have been an exaggeration, but not by much. The fish, which ranged in size from about six inches to over a foot long, seemed oblivious to his presence. Simon jumped as
he felt something rather warmer brush up against him.

  It was Matt.

  "I keep thinking I should bring a net down here one day," he said in Simon's ear. "Could feed the whole hotel for five minutes' work." Matt held onto the jetty with one hand, while the other slipped around Simon's waist. When he pulled their bodies tighter together, Simon could feel a hard length pressing against his backside. He was fairly certain it wasn't a fish.

  Simon drew in a sharp breath--and another as Matt reached round to cup his groin. Five minutes ago, Simon would have sworn the icy water had shrunk his masculinity to a mortifyingly small size, but suddenly that no longer seemed to be a problem. "We can't," he protested. "It's broad daylight!"

  Matt's breath was hot in Simon's ear as he answered, "There's no one near enough to tell what we're doing. Just relax and enjoy it."

  Simon swallowed and hung onto the edge of the pier with both hands as Matt reached inside his trunks and grabbed hold of his erection. Simultaneously, a hard cock insinuated its way between Simon's thighs.

  "Oh, God!" Simon gasped out. They couldn't be doing this--could they? Out here where anyone might see? The lake water might cloak their nether regions, but surely anyone who happened upon them would be in no doubt as to what was happening in those murky depths?

  "We shouldn't," he stammered--and then Matt's grip tightened, and Simon forgot why he'd been protesting, forgot everything except the feeling of Matt's hand on his cock, Matt's hard length slamming into his balls from behind, Matt's hot breath on his neck, and Matt's icy foot twining itself around his leg. No, wait, that was a fish. Did that make this bestiality? Simon almost laughed aloud, drunk on pleasure.

  Their motion caused the water to slap rhythmically against his chest, sending spray up into his face. From the corner of his eye, Simon could see a huge, white blur that must be the ferry making its way across the lake from St. Gilgen. He hoped to God none of the tourists on board had a powerful zoom lens or they'd be getting some holiday snaps with a difference. Then he didn't care any more because he was coming, shooting his seed out into the water, waves of ecstasy washing over him like the waters of the lake. As he came down from the high, he felt Matt's arm tighten convulsively around his waist, and a tiny patch of water around his hips became briefly warmer as Matt groaned, tensed, and let go of the jetty altogether.