On Saturday morning, with Erika left in charge of the hotel, Ben and Christine joined Gerd in his Mercedes for the hour's drive up to the valley. Gerd's friends would join them on site.
For most of the drive, Christine turned in her front-seat to talk with Ben in the back. While she told him about the opening-up of an additional ski-resort in the side-valley and the conflicting interests and the politicking, her laughing eyes and tempting lips told a parallel tale. While her husband, driving slowly, concentrated on the narrow, winding road, Christine was no longer just flirting.
When they arrived, the builder and friends were waiting. Gerd unlooked the door. The hut, solidly built with log-walls and weatherproof windows and doors, had two large rooms. The front was furnished with a stove, a corner bench, chairs, large table and a massive, 19th Century credenza for supplies and utensils. The sleeping room adjoining was utilitarian: It had a raw board-bench along one wall, and a raised, eight-foot deep platform along the opposite one. The latter was covered with thick hessian matting and could accommodate eight or - on a squeeze - ten sleepers. There was a pile of army blankets in one corner.
Christine had brought blankets from the hotel. While the men stayed outside, talking already about the rebuilding task, Christine and Ben carried the brought provisions inside. The foods' place was a given. With the bedding, it got interesting. Ben placed his blankets at the platform's end close to the wall, adding his back-pack and track-suit as a pillow. Christine watched and smiled. She spread out Gerd's and her blankets. And then, smiling at Ben with the tip of her tongue showing, Christine placed her pillow and track-suit right next to his. Shifting Gerd's bedding further away, she grinned at Ben: -
"I'll be safe here, won't I? At rest, between you two."
At lunch-time, with the repast of rye-bread, cheese and salami, the Schnapps-bottles appeared. As hunters and proud locals, they had brought no other drinks into the mountain. Traditionally, the 70% Proof Schnapps guaranteed a wipe-out and took up little space and weight in their gear-packs. Ben was not allowed to refuse. He was not a spirits-drinker, and after two hearty sips felt the effect. He would need to watch it!
In the afternoon, Gerd and friends stuck to their task: Measuring, drawing, arguing, photographing, calculating. Christine and Ben, so clearly outsiders went for a long, exploring walk. She took his hand and so countered his Schnapps-induced wobble as they strolled laughing and chatting like an established loving couple. There was nothing untoward, until later in the afternoon.
The September-sun, still pleasantly warm, had set the valley aglow. Christine and Ben had on a rise, first sat down in the grass and now they lay there, stretched out. When Ben opened his eyes, Christine was bent over him. He felt the tips of her breasts touching and moving against his chest. Christine's lips were almost touching his as she asked: -
"I wonder how much Erika is missing you this afternoon?"
And then she kissed him.
It was a questioning kiss: Not too brief, but light in touch, ending with a mere suggestion of tongue brushing over his lips. Ben responded by pulling Christine close, and his hand caressing the firm roundness of her ass in her tight-fit jeans. As Christine rubbed her groin against his rising erection, Ben decided on the truest, possible answer: -
"I hope she misses me and our wild, glorious sex and loving each other. ... Erika and I have something special. ... As you know, our loving goes back a long way ... we are catching up. ... With you and me ... it's a bit different. ... Would our sex be as wild and wonderful too? ... You know, Christine, don't you, that I love you, desire you, just like I do Erika. ... But there could never be a choice, an either you or her for me."
Christine sat up, hunched over her knees. For the moment she found no reply. Ben had now seriously acknowledged what they, she and Erika, had teasingly toyed with in yesterday's sexting. But they had only jokingly promised a little joint-playing on the bed. Or did they, like Ben, desire to share fully?
On returning from their afternoon's explore, Ben and Christine found Gerd and friends sitting on the bench leaning against the hut's wall. They had finished their day's work and were pleased with what they had done. A bottle was passed, and glasses filled and refilled and toasts drunk. Ben was invited to join, a shot-glass for him was found. When they were raised for a toast, Ben only sipped while the others drowned theirs. On sitting down on the end of the bench, he poured the rest on the ground. Then he listened as Gerd, and the builder explained in detail how the hut would be rebuilt.
The evening meal, prepared by the men with much roaring laughter, was a huge frying pan of bacon and eggs. Eaten with thick slices of rye-bread to soak up the fat, they declared it the proper food to line their stomachs for, now the work was done, some serious drinking. By then they were, Christine pointed out, on their third bottle of Schnapps. "Who is counting!" - guffawed Gerd.
By then, he and the other blokes no longer noticed that Ben had stopped matching their intake. When they brought out the playing-cards, there was a moment's hesitation. It was the builder, not Gerd, that looked at Christine and Ben and asked if they wanted to play poker. The others were silent. It was clearly not the game they favoured but with six, what else could they play? There was a sigh of relief when the outsiders - hardly any of the men, including Gerd, had spoken to Christine all day - left them to play their foursome.
Christine cleaned up and washed the dishes. Ben eventually got up. He complained he had too much to drink. Putting on a show, he staggered outside for a piss and cold wash in the trough. On returning to the room, the light of the one kerosene-lamp over the table made it easy for Ben to stay in the shadows. His plea that he did not feel too well after all the Schnapps and better bed down was - with suppressed laughter - condescendingly believed by the hard-drinking card-players. Christine lent him a flashlight, giving him a quick smile and wink. So, Ben made for his pallet in the corner of the other room and an unlikely early night.
He would wait for her. They had not exchanged a word about what would happen. Yet Ben was sure that they were in silent collusion that somehow, it would be their night. He left the ultimate choice of what they would do to Christine. Everything was out in the open between the three of them. As Ben thought about all the possibilities that were, perhaps, in the offering, he stretched out pleasantly aroused, waiting in the dark.
Half-an-hour or so had passed before Ben saw a dull flow of light coming from the briefly opening door. Then there were her light foot-steps and the touch of her hand on his leg. "You have my flashlight, Ben?" Christine murmured.
She had slid up next to him, and her hand had stolen under the blanket. Christine suppressed a giggle as her hand found Ben well aroused. She whispered: -
"You keep the flashlight. You'll want to turn it on for me to undress, won't you?"
Christine giggled: -
"After all, you have always seen me dressed. If somebody comes, turn it off quickly."
Then she moved away, and the darkness was charged with expectations.
Ben found the flashlight. Gripping its round shape, he turned on his side, resting it on the mating close to his chest. At the slightest sound of intruders, Ben could pull the light under the blanket. Then he pressed the button. Christine, just out of reach, sat there on top of her bedding in the softly reflected light. She looked at him, smiled, had been waiting. They were in unspoken unison. There was not going to be anything accidental about Christine's stripping and Ben's watching. Or about what could follow.
Christine now bent forward, took off her shoes, dropped them to the ground. Then, getting on her knees and sitting back, she half-turned to him. Unhurriedly at ease, it appeared, Christine reached for the seam of her top and pulled it up and off over her head. When she shook her head to flatten her messed-up hair, her tits jiggled provocatively in the cups of her bra. Christine now grinned. As she reached behind her back to unclasp it, she pursed her lips in an air-kiss in Ben's direction. And then, throwing the bra aside, Christine turned fully towards him.
