The Virginity Mission (2 page)

I look around the group, my heart contracting with each glance. The guys are sporting jocks, sizing each other up, puffing their chests out, rolling shoulders. Prickling concern dances down my spine. It's going to be a competition. The shorter girl's like me—eyeing off the muscles with trepidation. The taller girl doesn't seem at all worried by the guys' preening antics. Both girls look athletic and I'm skinny. I wonder how we'll get along.

The blond guy starts the introductions. “I'm Ed, your group leader, not that I know much because I've never done this before. But we'll muddle along together. We're a botany group, tasked with doing botanical transects through the rainforest. I'll tell you more about that after we introduce ourselves.”

Ed indicates the person to his right should go next, the blonde haired girl. “I'm Belinda. I've never done anything like this before either.” She giggles and aims one of those overly flirty smiles at Ed. “But I'm really looking forward to it, now.” She's wasted no time. Ed is off limits unless I want to fight Belinda for him. That's never my style, which could explain why I'm still waiting to lose my cherry.

The serious brown-haired guy is Damien, the nuggetty guy with the scowl is Sam and Harry I've already met. The tall curly brown-haired girl is Annie. And then it's my turn.

“I'm Mac. Willow MacIntosh really but no one calls me anything but Mac. I hope you will too.” I hate my name. It sounds prissy and girly. Plus when you're tall, curve-free and bony, Willow is a dumb name. I can't believe my parents landed me with such a weird moniker. I've been known to completely ignore anyone who calls me anything but Mac. From the nods I receive from the group, I guess everyone will call me that.

We wander off under Ed's guidance to make a group ‘home' in the paddock and get to know each other.

Ed explains our tasks. “We need to work out a list of supplies for the first trip into the rainforest. It's a three day trip leaving the day after tomorrow. We need to list our requirements, obtain supplies and pack gear ready to leave. We also have to plan and log our journey. During the trip we must complete five one-hundred metre transects, collecting and pressing samples of each plant along each transect, for the botany component.”

It doesn't sound too difficult. Except for Harry, we've all done transects and plant collections. We've all done a lot of walking and camping so we understand the basic requirements. We don't disagree on much and once the list is made, we go to obtain supplies. The obtaining is mighty easy as there's a big tent that houses the supplies and you line up and present your list. Some things you get then and there, the rest are delivered later on. Easier than shopping. Fiona's the assistant quartermaster as part of the expedition leadership group and runs the ‘shop'. She's exceptionally friendly and helpful to us. I suspect she knows Ed as she's way more helpful to us than other groups. This leaves us with time to hang out at the creek and time for me to surreptitiously check out the guys and see if any will suit my nefarious purpose.

I haven't meant to remain a virgin. University should be full of sex and fun, but for me it's been full of study. The years slipped by and now I'm about to finish uni and enter the adult world as an untested girl. This trip could solve my problem. Six weeks of girls and guys camping together. Surely I could get lucky.

I follow everyone down to the creek crossing. The spot is overhung by gums and shrubs. They look like mallee trees with multi stems shooting from the base, but I'm not really familiar with tropical trees, even if they have put me in a botany group. The creek has a sandy bottom and the clear water gurgles mid-calf deep. Not deep enough to swim but perfect for sitting in. Trees are spread across the water to create screening so you can sit in an area and pretend there's no one else there. It's not completely covered but sheltered and dappled with shadows.

The paddock is hot and dry. The creek crossing is the coolest place to be. Even along the edges, the ground is covered by a mat of dead leaves making the ground cool to stand on. With the tropical heat we're all wearing swimmers and a shirt and not bothering with shorts, making it easy to sit in the creek shaded from the heat of the day.

Everyone talks noisily but I fade into the background where I prefer to be. I'm happiest in my own company, outside the conversation circle and only in the periphery of people's thoughts. The tree screening allows me to almost disappear.

Being on the outside looking in gives me time to think and my thoughts lead me to the guys in my group. I'm not a cradle snatcher so Harry's too young. Damien's too serious for a fling and I'm not after a relationship. Sam seems too straight. Ed's out. None of them set my blood racing anyway. I always dreamed my first time would be one of those moments when my body took control and nothing could stop it happening. It seems as if losing my virginity is going to be harder than I hoped.

There's a rustle in the bushes. Someone steps into the creek near me. I resist the temptation to turn around as this will only invite them to sit near me. They don't take the hint. They stand beside me and make a deep, but soft, throat clearing sound. A male. I have to look now. Dark haired, muscular legs capture my interest. I follow the long legs up to a pair of blue jogging shorts and a khaki singlet. My throat constricts, my heart booms louder than a jet on afterburners and sweat breaks out of every pore. I don't have to look beyond the singlet to know who this is. I risk a quick glance to his face. Sweat pours from me and my face heats.

Panther Man.

“Mind if I sit with you?” The honeyed depth of his voice pours heat through me, as if I'm not hot enough looking at him. I want to throw handfuls of water over my face, or sink into the rushing creek or…

Like a person devoid of social skills I dumbly nod and wave my hand at the clear water beside me. Every single thought escapes my head as he sits beside me. No doubt I wear a dumb expression while my hungry stare darts across his body as if I've never seen a man before. His legs match his arms. Muscled, toned, good enough to bite. I turn away, blushing furiously. I have the hots for a man too old and totally out of reach, not to mention the rules about no fraternisation with the army guys.
Great.

“Thanks for the water.” His voice is not as deep or loud as I expected—no panther growl. It's one of those delicious voices I could listen to for hours. The kind that heats my blood, soothes my soul and makes sure I know I'm alive.

I must still be in shock because I don't react at all, forcing him to say, “You did leave the water bottle, didn't you?” This time his voice is hesitant and his uncertainty relaxes me. I can speak to someone who's tentative far more easily than someone sure of themself. Maybe he's not so far from reach.
Hell.
Imagine having sex with the Panther Man. My mouth dries at the thought. My eyes inadvertently drop to the front of his shorts imagining his cock thick, hard and ready for me. I shudder and halt those thoughts.

“Yes.” I shrug, feigning a casualness I don't feel. “Stupid I know, but I was thirsty. I thought you might be too.” I stare intently at the water running past my toes. He must think I'm an idiot.

“Not stupid at all. I needed it. Thanks.”

Wow!
Maybe he doesn't think I'm strange. I might have a hope. I glance at him from the corner of my eye. Hot as hell. I have no hope.

We sit in riveting silence. I'm not sure what happened to my intelligence but it's definitely gone. I can't think of a single topic of conversation. Every part of me is concentrating on the man sitting beside me and the thousand questions running through my mind that I'm too embarrassed to ask. Why on earth is he here? How did he know I left the water? Did he come to the creek to find me? Why did he thank me? Could he have sex with me, right here, right now?

“So, how's the trip going? How's your group?” His voice is coarse sand running over stones—rough and abrasive, but at the same time bone-meltingly soft with strange inflections, like he's whispering just to me.

There is not a drop of moisture in my mouth. My friend Mardi would kill me for acting like this. I shrug as I search for words.

“It's fine.” Such eloquence. Honestly, I'm a moron.

“Where are you off to for the next few days?”

Oh great, a man with patience
. I smile at my own mental humour. I have to make an effort to string words together or I'll kick myself forever. He's making an effort with me, it's the least I can manage.

“Somehow I've ended up in the super fit, gung-ho group. We're going on some huge big loop to test how far we can walk in this terrain. I'll be lucky if I make it.” Why on earth have I blurted out the truth to him—super fit, muscle man? I truly am a moron.

“That's not the attitude to have before you even start.” The words themselves are scolding but his tone's amused. I look up unsure how to take his comment. His smile softens the chastisement, although his eyes have a look of concern, like he's worried about me. He probably isn't used to wimps and he's trying to toughen me up. At least he didn't yell like I imagine army people do.

“Sorry. I'm wondering why I'm here. I'm not sure how I got picked.”
Oh great, more honesty. Can't I censor my mouth?

“Are you a defeatist?”

I drop my hand then lift it, watching the water catch the sunlight as it trickles through my fingers. I keep doing it, finding it somewhat soothing while I bare my soul to a stranger. A total stranger I want to jump. A stranger who's probably never heard anyone with so many doubts.

“Not usually. I've always thought I was pretty tough. But here, in my group, I don't belong. Everyone's super fit with piles of muscles. It's a scientific trip. I thought they'd be nerdier.”

He chuckles. I look up at him from the corner of my eye and then turn my head to look at him more closely. There are a few beats of silence before he says, “Do you think I fit in here?” His lips are set in a wry grin, which pulls them into a tight line. They don't look kissable like this.

I tip my head away as I examine him. He's watching me but his look is gentle. He doesn't catch hold of my gaze but allows it to wander. It isn't what I expect.
He
isn't what I expect. I'm feeling more and more comfortable each moment, yet I shouldn't be. He's off limits. “You look like you fit in to me.”

“What makes me fit in and you not?”

“You're athletic.” Understatement of the year considering the muscles in those limbs. “You're relaxed. You come down here and talk to people. You seem to get along with the other army guys.” I shrug. “You fit in.” In the beats of silence that follow, I realise I've made a hell of a lot of observations in a short period.

“And you?”

“I'm more scrawny than muscled.” The way his gaze strolls over my body and down my legs makes me almost curl into a ball and hide. Another part wants to stretch out and bask in that gaze, pretending I have a body he admires.

He makes no comment so I keep talking. “I've done a bit of camping and bushwalking but nothing this rough or isolated. I think I'm too inexperienced to be here.”

He makes no sound. My words hang in the air uncomfortably. I can't believe I've blurted all this to a man I want to impress. Mardi will murder me. What's happening to me?

Finally, he says, “So why are you here?”

One of those half-snort, half-chuckle things I give when I feel completely stupid and embarrassed pops out before I can stop it. I speak quickly to cover up my embarrassment. “I didn't feel like this when I applied, or when I left home. It's a recent thing.”

“Are you going to chuck it in?”

I stare at him, my eyes are wide open. For a moment I stall. Then my mouth opens. “No way.”

“So why bitch about it? You're here, enjoy the experience.” The words sound harsh but his delivery is not. It's encouraging, not rebuking and I find myself answering honestly, again.

“I don't want to let anyone down. I don't want to be the weakest person in the group. I don't want to fail.”

“Then don't.”

My look, I hope, holds every bit of confusion and frustration I feel. I don't understand what he's saying. Why am I baring my soul to him? Why does he care? I don't even know why he's talking to me. In my dreams he'd be a fantastic sex prospect and now I've told him what an idiot I am. Bonking needs confidence and I've just told him I have none.
Totally fucking brilliant.

“If you're going to stick at it, then toughen up your attitude. Back yourself. Give yourself courage. Take a hold of life, don't let it pass you by.” He smiles a slow sexy smile that gives his lips a sensual motion and his eyes a dazzling gleam. I can't help but answer that smile with one of my own which peals across my face involuntarily.

“Thanks. That sounds like the best advice I've heard.” I hold out my hand. “I'm Mac.”

“Jason.” He takes my hand in his. My palm's alive. Tingling. Burning and freezing at the same time.

He grins even more sexily. “I'm afraid advice like that costs more than just a handshake.”

I blink.
What did he just say? Did I dream that?
I open my mouth to ask, but he gently tugs my hand. I fall into him. One hand lays flat against his chest, where he guided it. The other flies from the water to splat against the heated skin of his shoulder, dripping water over his singlet. I'm not sure where to look, what to do. His mouth hovers over mine no more than an inch away. My eyes lock on his completely kissable lips. The urge to sink into them is huge but I'm not that brave. His lips part and I drift closer. Maybe I am that brave.

“How good did you say the advice was?” His words send a wisp of breath dancing across my lower lip before it disappears into the air. There's laughter in his voice, even a smile on his lips. Mine aren't responding. I'm frozen.