fact, talk about flowers or something, okay? Panic a little.”
Nikolas reversed them once more and whispered into Ben’s ear, “Fuck. How’s that?”
Ben laughed and announced out loud, “I’m freezing. Is anyone else?”
They all were. Nikolas sighed. Would someone please suggest we need to maybe light a fucking fire?
No one offered anything except how uncomfortable they were.
Nikolas decided to drop a hint, so he lit up a cigarette. James asked if he could bum one, and Nikolas ground his teeth. “Lucky I have my lighter on me, isn’t it? So I can light the cigarettes.”
Finally, John—thank God for physics teachers—grumbled, “Let’s see if we can get a fire going. Can anyone find some wood?”
Nikolas knew exactly where they could find some wood; he wasn’t about to offer it to be burnt, however.
Gradually, they began to assemble the makings of a fire. Most had their folded or screwed-up programmes in their pockets, so kindling was easy. There was a chorus of ragged cheers when the fire caught, hands were outstretched, and everyone began to relax. Nikolas so desperately wanted to slide off into the trees, find the men watching them and end this little stunt, that he was actually glad Ben had a finger hooked into his belt. He’d thought at first when he’d felt the touch that Ben was being affectionate, playing up his role. He realised now he was being leashed.
“Maybe we should just walk back? It would be easy enough to follow the tracks of the truck.” Just because he was a florist didn’t mean he had to be completely incompetent.
John seized on this suggestion. “I think we’re about ten miles from the house, given the speed we were going and the time it took us to get here.” Nikolas took a drag of his cigarette, wondering if they were going to get some fascinating information about the gravity of the place as well, but when they didn’t, he pushed a little for his solution—he was tired…he wanted to go to bed! “So, ten miles? It wouldn’t be too difficult.”
“I haven’t got any shoes on.”
For the first time, Nikolas noticed Samuel’s bare feet. He pouted but conceded that, in the dark, this scuppered his plan. “Then I think, gentlemen, we are sleeping here.”
One of the men in the threesome—he hadn’t caught any of their names—spat out, “What the fuck is this for? This legit? Are they allowed to do this?” There was a murmur of support and agreement, and James added, “This isn’t what I paid all that money for.”
Surprising to Nikolas, it was Ben who spoke up. He was sitting very contentedly catching the ends of twigs on fire and watching them glow. He dug his fingers more firmly into Nikolas’s belt as if to tether him a little more securely and offered, “I was in army cadets when I was a kid, and we did things like this all the time. It’s why I became a chef, I guess.”
Everyone turned curious eyes to him, even Nikolas. Ben quirked his lip. “When you cook, you start with raw ingredients, which you blend into a perfect whole. You can do it with men, too, but, just like the ingredients, they need to be…broken down first. Shelled. Peeled. Scrubbed. Ground . Only then can you build them up again in a new image.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I was only a kid, of course. But I like watching stuff about the army on the telly…”
Oh, come on, he’s not that impressive! Nikolas couldn’t believe the worshipful glances being thrown Ben’s way. He took another drag on his cigarette—it had been one of his more brilliant moves establishing Nigel smoked—and drawled softly, “I wish we had some raw ingredients now, Justin. I could just manage one of your lobster in beurre monte …”
Ben clearly had his Nikolas-radar on full alert and continued preaching to his congregation, “You’ll all—I mean we’ll all be different men if we…survive…this experience. You’ll see.”
“Have you slept outside before, Justin?”
Nikolas had to turn
Nikolas reversed them once more and whispered into Ben’s ear, “Fuck. How’s that?”
Ben laughed and announced out loud, “I’m freezing. Is anyone else?”
They all were. Nikolas sighed. Would someone please suggest we need to maybe light a fucking fire?
No one offered anything except how uncomfortable they were.
Nikolas decided to drop a hint, so he lit up a cigarette. James asked if he could bum one, and Nikolas ground his teeth. “Lucky I have my lighter on me, isn’t it? So I can light the cigarettes.”
Finally, John—thank God for physics teachers—grumbled, “Let’s see if we can get a fire going. Can anyone find some wood?”
Nikolas knew exactly where they could find some wood; he wasn’t about to offer it to be burnt, however.
Gradually, they began to assemble the makings of a fire. Most had their folded or screwed-up programmes in their pockets, so kindling was easy. There was a chorus of ragged cheers when the fire caught, hands were outstretched, and everyone began to relax. Nikolas so desperately wanted to slide off into the trees, find the men watching them and end this little stunt, that he was actually glad Ben had a finger hooked into his belt. He’d thought at first when he’d felt the touch that Ben was being affectionate, playing up his role. He realised now he was being leashed.
“Maybe we should just walk back? It would be easy enough to follow the tracks of the truck.” Just because he was a florist didn’t mean he had to be completely incompetent.
John seized on this suggestion. “I think we’re about ten miles from the house, given the speed we were going and the time it took us to get here.” Nikolas took a drag of his cigarette, wondering if they were going to get some fascinating information about the gravity of the place as well, but when they didn’t, he pushed a little for his solution—he was tired…he wanted to go to bed! “So, ten miles? It wouldn’t be too difficult.”
“I haven’t got any shoes on.”
For the first time, Nikolas noticed Samuel’s bare feet. He pouted but conceded that, in the dark, this scuppered his plan. “Then I think, gentlemen, we are sleeping here.”
One of the men in the threesome—he hadn’t caught any of their names—spat out, “What the fuck is this for? This legit? Are they allowed to do this?” There was a murmur of support and agreement, and James added, “This isn’t what I paid all that money for.”
Surprising to Nikolas, it was Ben who spoke up. He was sitting very contentedly catching the ends of twigs on fire and watching them glow. He dug his fingers more firmly into Nikolas’s belt as if to tether him a little more securely and offered, “I was in army cadets when I was a kid, and we did things like this all the time. It’s why I became a chef, I guess.”
Everyone turned curious eyes to him, even Nikolas. Ben quirked his lip. “When you cook, you start with raw ingredients, which you blend into a perfect whole. You can do it with men, too, but, just like the ingredients, they need to be…broken down first. Shelled. Peeled. Scrubbed. Ground . Only then can you build them up again in a new image.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I was only a kid, of course. But I like watching stuff about the army on the telly…”
Oh, come on, he’s not that impressive! Nikolas couldn’t believe the worshipful glances being thrown Ben’s way. He took another drag on his cigarette—it had been one of his more brilliant moves establishing Nigel smoked—and drawled softly, “I wish we had some raw ingredients now, Justin. I could just manage one of your lobster in beurre monte …”
Ben clearly had his Nikolas-radar on full alert and continued preaching to his congregation, “You’ll all—I mean we’ll all be different men if we…survive…this experience. You’ll see.”
“Have you slept outside before, Justin?”
Nikolas had to turn
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