Heather opened the door just as I was about to knock on it. She'd given up on the tent after the twins had left, and returned to her normal room. I couldn't complain. I'd taken Sally up on the offer of a bedroom for the rest of the holiday myself, and was enjoying the comforts of modern life.

Heather looked great. A pale green sundress hung breezily on her, swirling with her movements. Her grin was infectious, as usual.

She looked back behind her to make sure no one was listening, then poked her head through the door. "Listen Paul, umm... do you like tomatoes?"

"What? Yeah, sure. Why?"

"Well, it's... Look, sorry, but I think I volunteered your help."

"Help? With what?"

"You better come take a look." She opened the door properly, and I followed her through. We walked down the hallway into the kitchen, and I stopped and stared. The table and bench were both stacked with wooden boxes of fresh red tomatoes, three crates deep in some cases. She looked at me, and grinned again. "Yeah. So, do you like them a lot?"

As usual, I couldn't resist. Dropping my camera bag in the corner, I walked up and lifted the nearest box. "What exactly," I asked as I turned to her with them, "are we doing?"

"Just... tomato stuff. Sauce. Pulp. Soup, paste, probably porridge. But put that down over there," she finished, waving to the free space next to the sink.

"What, all of those?"

"Sort of. We're just helping Mum, though. You guys don't do this at your place?"

"My mother concentrates on not poisoning us each night. Tomato processing is probably beyond her."

"Grab one of those stools. I'll make coffee. We might need it. Sorry to change plans."

I sat as instructed, and let Heather work. "It's fine, really. But listen, did this suddenly happen? You woke up and the kitchen was all red like this?"

"Not exactly. I haven't been taking any notice, but apparently this is an exceptional tomato season."

"It is? Why's that?"

"Well, lots of rain earlier, and fine weather now, I'm told."

"We've certainly had the fine weather."

"Yeah. But spring was pretty wet."

"Okay."

"Yeah. So... well, what usually happens is that one of Mum's uncles comes around and they do this stuff between the two of them, every year."

"So where's Uncle...?"

"Dennis. Uncle Dennis. And he's going to be here tomorrow. Coffee. You want anything with it?"

"What, like a tomato?"

"Oh, don't do that. You'll be sick of the sight of those soon."

"I'm fine. So it's just today? What's the problem?"

"The problem is that Mum is far too friendly with one of the local growers..."

"Okay."

"And he dropped all these off this morning, and will be back tomorrow with some more, so we need room for them."

"Oh, I see. So we need to process this ton or so of tomatoes?"

"Yeah. " Heather waggled her finger at me. "Preserve, not process. We're going to preserve the tomatoes. In a few different ways."

"Preserve. Alright. Then what?"

"Ah. Come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"The laundry, of course."

Heather took my hand, and led me out of the room, still chattering. That was where this had got to. We'd spent the last two weeks being the best of friends. We'd told each other secrets, held each other's hands, kissed now and then.

We had spent literally days fiddling with cameras and recording the surrounding countryside. Heather had learnt all I knew about composition and aperture, exposure and depth of field.

We'd laughed. A lot. We'd cried a little as well, now and then.

We'd driven each other's cars. Heather had worn some of my shirts. We'd told silly jokes, taken long walks, watched movies, become vegetables sitting together in front of the TV.

I'd come to understand even more how funny, how clever, and how warm Heather was. She claimed to have come to know me better than she ever thought she could.

Mostly though, we had fun. Great friends, wonderful times, and a living, breathing sexual tension that would just not go away.

We both admitted frankly that we often left each other and went home to masturbate. We skinny-dipped. We discussed fantasies. We agreed that things should stay the way they were, and I for one was lying every time.

And now and then, when she touched me, it was all I could ever ask for. Like now, dragging me down the hallway to the laundry. I hoped we would never get there, because then Heather might drop my hand, and I didn't want her to.

The laundry wasn't what I expected. It was a large room with workbenches and shelves everywhere. The actual laundry equipment stood in one corner of the pale yellow room. The shelves were full. Over-full. Mostly with large glass jars full of different sorts of food.

At first glance most of them seemed to be red. Tomatoes in various disguises, I guessed. But there were also identifiable collections of fruit. Peaches and pears in tidy rows, along with some things that I couldn't quite categorise, but which must have been more obscure preserves.

Heather spoke while I stared. "Yeah, it's something of an obsession, I think. When we were younger we were pretty short of money, and Gran taught Mum to do this stuff. She's been working on perfecting it ever since. There's nothing quite like a jar of home-made spicy tomato soup in the middle of the winter though."

"It's impressive. So..." I looked at her. "Are you likely to inherit the obsession?"

She smiled, before kissing me on the cheek, and making me realise she was still holding my hand. "No, silly. I'm just going to visit and steal some of this every year."

"Good plan. Alright, thanks for showing me. Isn't the coffee getting cold?"

"Yeah. Hold on though, Paul." She turned me to face her, pulled my head down a little, glancing quickly at the doorway, and kissed me properly.

I completely forgot what was happening, and concentrated on returning the kiss. When she finally released me, I stood, my hands in hers, and stared at her. "What was that for?"

She didn't smile this time, but her eyes sparkled. "A test. Tell you later."

"Did... did I pass?"

"Damn right. Kitchen, slave."

Heather's mother Sandra was in the kitchen when we returned. She insisted we finish our coffee, and thanked me very much for offering to help. I was fairly sure I hadn't, but it didn't matter. I was happy to hang out and do whatever Heather was doing.

At least for a start I was. It turned out to be hard work, cutting, blanching, peeling, boiling, straining. By the time we stopped for lunch I was exhausted, and just so hot.

Along with the tomatoes themselves, we had to do various things to sterilise the glass jars before we could fill them. Depending on the type and purpose, some were boiled themselves. Others were heated in the oven.

Sandra knew exactly what she was doing, and I just followed instructions, and helped wherever I could. Heather was working hard as well, aside from the time she took me down to the laundry room again to get some lids for the jars. As soon as we were out of sight she kissed me again.

I looked down at her. "You alright?"

"Yeah. I am. Very much so."

"What's going on?"

"Tell you later."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

We stopped for lunch at some point, and elected to eat sandwiches outside, away from the heat. The grass was cool to sit on, and Sandra sat with us, chatting until the phone rang, when she ran off.

Heather was sitting next to me, and while she didn't drag me into a full embrace again, she was decidedly friendly, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. I didn't want to stop her, so said nothing.

Sandra was gone for a few minutes, and then came back outside, looking a little concerned. She spoke apologetically. "Listen, kids, could I leave things with you for a bit?"

"Mum!"

"It's Lucy, down the road. Her daughter is sick, and she needs to go out. She asked me if I could babysit for a little while."

Heather sounded more as though she was teasing than actually upset. "Mother, you know very well that I can babysit Miranda for you."

"Yeah, you can. You want to?"

"Yeah, why not? Mandy's..."

"Vomiting."

"Huh?"

"She's vomiting. Frequently. You still want the job?"

"God, no!"

"Thought not. So could you carry on with the soup until I get back?"

"You're trusting me with your preserves?"

"Hell, no." Sandra grinned. "I'm trusting him." She pointed at me.

"Me?"

"You."

I shook my head. "I don't know anything, Sandra."

"That's a good spot to start. You'll both be fine. Sorry."

Heather sighed, and smiled at her mother, and I was suddenly aware of how close the two of them were. They could almost read each others' thoughts. "Go, Mum. Go."

" I'll be back around three, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I want to talk to Paul anyway, and you just get in the way."

"I'll remember that next time you want some money."

"You'll owe us some money."

"I can't hear you."

Sandra walked off around the house and disappeared. Heather looked at me, and asked. "What?"

"You want to talk to me?"

"Yeah. But later."

"You sure are mysterious today."

"It's part of my charm."

"You have charm now?"

"Inside!"

"See, what you have is called leadership. Just remember who has been put in charge here."

"Yeah, right. Git!"

We worked. Heather really did know what to do, and I really did follow instructions. We'd been back in there for a while when she suddenly spoke. Hesitantly. "Paul?"

"Uh huh?" I was pouring hot red slop into jars I'd removed from the oven.

"Could you stop that for a second?"

"Hold on." I put the container back on the bench. "Yep?" I turned to face her, and noticed tears flowing down her face. "Oh, God, Heather, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Really, nothing. It's just... give me a hug?"

I took her into my arms, ignoring the heat. "What's going on?"

"It's just... you know when I told you about Marcus...?"

"I thought we weren't going to talk about that?" I still had her in my arms, and we were both speaking quietly.

"Yeah, I know. We weren't. But..." She reached up and kissed me lightly. "I needed to tell you."

"As nice as this is, you're not making a whole lot of sense, Heather."

"Yeah. You know I said the problem was that I couldn't trust anyone else enough?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"Yeah. Well, I realised something just before you got here this morning."

"What was that?"

"I realised... I was wrong. I can trust someone. More than enough."

"Oh?" I held her tight, hopeful and terrified, all at once. "And... who is that?"

"You, of course, you twit!"

"Me? Really?"

"Yeah. Of course. You think I had someone else stashed in the cupboard?"

"I hoped not, but you know what your family is like..."

"Yeah, alright. No, it's you. I... I'm not sure how to say this."

"Just say it straight."

"I... I love you, Paul."

"I love you too."

"You do?"

"Yeah. More all the time."

She reached up and kissed me properly. When she finally needed a break, Heather kept talking. "I think about you all the time. When I wake up. When we take photos. When... well, when I touch myself. All I can think about is you."

"You know, you have a way with words, you know that?"

"Let me finish. I... realised that I could let someone get that close, if that someone was you."

"How close?"

"That close."

"God." I pulled her close, squeezing her in my arms, and kissed her again.

That was when Sandra walked in, and smiled. "I might have known."

"What?" That was Heather, who hadn't seen her mother walk back in.

"I leave the house for a few minutes, and you start slacking around."

"We..." and Heather waggled her finger in that now familiar way, "... were just having a rest."

"Right. And I'm going to be the next Prime Minister."

"Mother!"

"Yeah, yeah. Soup, right?"

Sandra said nothing else about it, and we couldn't continue the discussion. So we got back to work, pouring and boiling, sealing and stacking. But every time we got near each other, we'd make sure our hands brushed, and sparks would leap between them. Heather's smile would make me jump, and I would follow her delightful movements with my eyes.

After another hour or so, Sandra called a halt. It was just getting too hot in the kitchen, and we all needed a proper break, though I was in no hurry to get any further away from Heather.

Sandra sealed up the last of the current batches, declaring that there just might be sufficient space for the continuation for tomorrow, and assured us that we wouldn't be needed for that.

Heather and I quickly agreed that we should go out somewhere, and I picked up my camera bag, telling her that I'd better go take a quick shower beforehand, after all the hot work in the kitchen. Her look assured me she'd rather take that shower with me, but I ignored her for once, and turned to the door - just in time for Sandra to stop me with two large jars of soup from the morning. They had really just cooled enough to carry.

"Listen, Paul, thanks for your help. This was never your responsibility."

"Oh, no need. I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

"Really?"

"Really."

Sandra handed me the soup, and then pulled herself up to kiss me on the cheek, pausing just long enough to whisper in my ear. "Look after her, Paul. Please."

I stared for a while, mumbled something to Heather, and walked out the door. Did everyone understand what was going on except me?

---

Heather was waiting on the steps when I came back out of Sally's house. I sat beside her and put my arm around her waist. "You okay?"

"Couldn't be better. Umm... ask you something personal?"

"Yeah, sure. Of course."

"Did you... visit the urn, lately?"

"Huh? Oh. Well... no."

"Perhaps..."

"Oh? Now?"

"Yeah. If... if you want to."

"I... you sure have me on the back foot today."

"Yeah, sorry."

"No need. I... already have some. In my bag. From... before."

"Okay. What were you talking to Sally about?"

"Oh, tell you later. She has plans for the soup, though."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, she wants to claim that she made it herself, and then watch Mike splutter when she admits I had something to do with it."

"She has a mean streak."

"Yeah. Just as well she has the sense of humour to go with it. So where are we going?"

Heather turned and looked up at me. "The river. Don't you think?"

---

When we parked down by the river in Heather's VW, the heat was still overpowering. We both sat on the grass bank for a while, unsure of exactly what to do next, until Heather turned to me with her trademark smile. "Swim, big boy?"

"Yeah. Great idea."

"I'm like that."

"So I hear."

"Last one in is a toad." She stood then, and pulled her shirt over her head.

"I thought," I told her, jumping to my own feet, "that it was a chicken."

"Toad." She kicked her jandals off, and wiggled her shorts and knickers off in one elegant shrug.

"Chicken. You have been badly educated." I tried to catch up.

"Toad!" she called back at me as I watched her ass wiggle in the sun, and I thought it was well worth it to be last. I dragged my shorts off and ran after her.

The water was cold despite the warm day, and I shivered as the water rose to engulf my privates. Probably just was well, because I was more than a little aroused.

We splashed around in the water like little kids, ignoring the tension, as I'd been doing so carefully over the last couple of weeks. I wasn't stupid enough to try not to watch her bouncing breasts or her bum as she turned and disappeared under the water, but I sure tried not to take too much notice. We'd been walking this tightrope so carefully that I was almost used to it, and was surprised when Heather swam up behind me and put her arms around me, letting her hands slide down over my stomach to my suddenly attentive cock.

"It's cold," she whispered in my ear as she stroked my cock just enough to ensure I knew it wasn't any sort of an accident. "How about we get out of the water?"

I turned to face her, squashing my erection against her stomach, and her breasts against my chest. "Listen, you sure you know what you're doing?"

"That's twice today you've questioned my ability. Could you try to relax?"

"I think you can feel just how difficult that might be."

"Oh, is that what that is? I was worried there might be eels in the river."

"You'd let an eel touch you like this?"

"If he was as charming as you."

"Out."

"Bully."

We separated just a little, and walked out of the water, hand in hand, dripping wet. Heather glanced down at the effect she'd had on me. "Oh, that's not an eel."

"No."

"Driftwood, could be."

We walked up the slight embankment a little, and both lay down on our towels, saying nothing, but thinking a lot. After a few minutes, the water dried off our skin, and the sun heated things up. Well, perhaps not just the sun.

Heather turned and kissed me on the shoulder. I kissed her back. When she kissed me again I turned my body to face her, and we lay there, side by side, lazily sliding hands over each other as our mouths danced their own tango.

After a while Heather sighed, and then pushed me over onto my back again. She pulled herself up and climbed up and over me until she was sitting astride my stomach, her knees either side of my chest. She leaned forward and kissed me again before lifting herself up on her hands. "We need to talk."

I laughed despite myself. "All of this to have a chat?"

She looked worried for a moment, and then laughed. "If you promise to pay attention, I'll make it up to you."

"I'm all ears."

"Bullshit. There's a substantial amount of your blood residing elsewhere. Think you can still concentrate?"

"I'll give it my best shot."

"Okay. You love me, you said?"

"You need to hear it again? Yes, Heather. I love you."

"And... you want me?"

"More than anything."

"Yeah. Me too. You know that, right?"

"I'm not sure how you define these things. But I think so, yes."

"I do. I have for a while. I just didn't know what to do about it."

"Yeah."

"So..." She sighed. "I told you already. I decided I do trust you enough, and if you want to, I'd like to do something about it."

"Something?"

"I want to make love to you, Paul. And to fuck you. Both."

"I hoped that was what you meant."

"Good. Now."

"Oh? Here? On the grass?"

"Yeah. I can't explain that."

"No need. But... why the sudden change?"

"It's not sudden. I've been thinking about it. But, Paul?"

"Uh huh?"

"I wasn't sure I could. And then have you leave."

"Oh."

"I thought that maybe it would be better not to. Better to leave things as they are."

"But?"

"But I can't. I just can't. So I decided that it would be better to... go ahead. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Heather, the most gorgeous redhead is sitting on me, stark naked. Her grin is enchanting, her freckles are cute as a button, and her sparkling green eyes are mesmerising. You think I'd have a problem?"

"Thanks."

She leaned her body down close to me then, and kissed me properly. I couldn't believe how our bodies felt together, how much I liked the weight of her on me. I slid my hands down her back and loved the shiver of her body. The press of her breasts against me was breathtaking. The slow rhythm of her movements against me was everything I'd ever hoped, and more.

So I was as surprised as Heather when I stopped her. I lifted her shoulders and pushed her hands from my body. She sat there, stunned.

"I'm sorry, Paul. Oh, God. I thought..."

"Hold on. Hold on. You've been fucked over once already. I'm not going to be next on your list of assholes. Give me a moment."

"Oh, you're not an asshole, Paul. What's the matter?"

"Well, nothing. This is just wonderful. But..."

"But what?"

"You're... you're happy to fuck me..."

"More than happy!"

"Yeah. But then... I pack my bags on Sunday and head home? What then?"

"That's what I was saying. I can handle that."

"Yeah, but..."

"Oh. Oh, God. Paul, I'm sorry. You wouldn't want that?"

"Oh, I would. I would. Really. But listen... how to say this..."

"Just tell me, Paul. That's what you say to me."

I looked up and tears were hovering in her glittering eyes. "I'm... I'm trying to, Heather. Really. Sorry."

"Oh, God, please don't be sorry!"

"Listen, can you tell me this? Are you only willing - okay, wanting- to do this... because I'm going away?"

"Huh?"

"Well, you know. It's safe, right? You can... I don't mean this in a cruel way... you can get this issue out of your system and get on with your life, and I go back home and get out of your way, right?"

"What? No! Would you do that? Just disappear?"

"I don't think I could."

"I don't want you to. It's... I don't want a goodbye fuck."

"So what would happen?"

"I thought... God, maybe I assumed too much. I thought we would find a way. Write to each other. Phone. Visit. People do this stuff all the time, right?"

"So this isn't the end of the relationship?"

"No, it's... That's what you want? A clean break?"

"No! I was just checking if that was what you wanted."

"I don't want to ever say goodbye to you, Paul. Look, if you don't want to do this, just say so. I thought... I thought you wanted this."

"I do." I pulled her back down, close, and kept talking, between small kisses on her neck. "You know I was talking with Sally back at the house?"

"Yeah. Oh, you told her?"

"No, no. She seems to have guessed though. And your mother."

"Oh, I told her. I hope you don't mind."

"Don't worry about that. But listen, Sally has been talking to my mother."

"About... us?"

"I'm not sure. But Mum had a call from school to say that Mr Gibson, my photography teacher, had an accident."

"Oh God, I'm sorry, Paul. I know you like him a lot."

"I do. He's going to be fine though. That's not the point."

"Oh?"

"He's not going to be able to teach for a while. And they couldn't find anyone to replace him. So the class is cancelled."

"Shit."

"Yeah. So Mum phoned to tell Sally, and asked her to pass the message on to me. But the thing is, Sally has known for a week or so."

"Oh? Why wouldn't she tell you?"

"That's the thing. She wanted to check on some things first."

"Things? What sort of things?"

"Options. She found somewhere else I could do the course."

"Oh, okay. Good."

"Yeah. Here."

"What?"

"Here, Heather. At your school. If it was alright with you, I could stay here, and go to school with you."

"Oh!"

"Yeah. Sally talked Mum into it, and has arranged for me to stay at her place for the year, if I want to. But now I just need to know..."

"Know what?"

"Well, if you want me to, of course."

"What?" She lifted herself up again, and even waggled a finger. "Paul, sometimes you are the most infuriating man I've ever met. That's what this is about?"

"Well, of course."

"You stupid, stupid man. Of course I want you to stay."

"You do?"

"How could you possibly think otherwise?"

"I was just..."

"What?"

"Scared."

"I'm familiar with that. How about we overcome both lots of fear the same way?"

"Oh? And what way might that be, Heather?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she bent her head again, and kissed me.

There was no rush. Some of the heat had drained from the afternoon, and a small breeze was tickling my skin. We lay there, kissing and touching, just taking our time, and making up for all the delays.

Heather's breasts had always been nice to look at, but they were astounding to caress. Her skin felt hotter than mine somehow, and the soft pale texture of it contrasted so much with the hard, desperately aroused nipples.

Her freckles went everywhere, and the colour of her skin changed with her moods. I loved the sheer feel of her in my arms.

After a while, she inched herself down a little, and I could feel her bum pressing against my hard cock. Her breath caught for a moment, and then she started to rub against me, quivering just a little as she moved, her breaths short between the kisses.

I thought we were going to have to stop to retrieve some protection, but Heather was just manipulative enough to have thought of it already, and hidden one beneath the towel when we came down from the car earlier.

She lifted herself up and over me, so she was crouched on my legs, and carefully rolled the condom on to my cock, enjoying making it jerk until it warned her to stop that if she wanted me to get anywhere near inside her.

In response she lifted herself again, and then slowly, with a broad grin on her face, she lowered herself over me, her body sure of itself, but still with the glitter of tears in her green eyes. I was busy anyway, trying desperately to let this last a little longer.

We stopped then, with her body lowered over mine, the two of us pressed close, my hard cock deep inside her. I looked at her watching me, and smiled. She grinned back.

As I took her nipples in my hands again she started to move. Slowly at first she lifted herself a little, sliding gently back until her weight was on me again. I loved the look of her ginger hair around me, of her freckled skin, of the smell of her arousal. I thought I just might be able to listen to the sounds she made forever, as her body was slowly tickled and persuaded closer to her release.

Heather closed her eyes, and her movements became automatic. She undulated above me, her body supple and hot. Sweat poured from both of us.

My hands found their way back across her breasts to her shoulders, and then down her back. My fingertips slid their way down her spine, slowing at the small over her back, and she shivered uncontrollably. My hands found their own way to her bum, and I cupped her buttocks in my palms, and did my best to assist with our movement.

Heather whimpered at me that she was ready, and was relieved because I was pretty sure I couldn't possibly hold off much longer. The pace quickened. The movements became more precise, more urgent, and then suddenly we were both past the point where we could stop.

She stiffened above me, her muscles tightening as she orgasmed, her thighs squeezing my cock, and her fingernails digging into my shoulders. As she gasped, I came. Her clenching muscles somehow matched the pulsing of my cock in her depths, and I grunted as I let go, my hips thrusting of their own accord, as Heather whimpered in pleasure, trying to move and stop moving at the same time.

As the pulses slowed, and we both regained our breaths, she fell on top of me, the weight and heat wonderfully intimate, and the feel of her breath on my neck an indication of the trust and acceptance she felt. I continued to massage her back lightly, and refused her offer when she felt she ought to get off me.

The sun continued to shine, the river burbled in its journey past, and I knew that this was one time that I didn't need a camera to record the moment. I was never going to forget this.