Chapter 1: Stay With Me

Marcy cried out in terror as she sprang up from the cold, firm mattress. Her entire body was aquiver, her breath ragged as her eyes darted all around the rustic bedroom.

She had just had the most awful nightmare. A mad dog had been chasing her through the woods. Before she was able to get to safety, it had pounced. The last thing she saw was that mouth full of sharp teeth lunging at her, before she awoke in the serenity of the cabin.

It took her a moment to get her bearings; to sort the dream from reality. Then she remembered the bath she'd taken, in which she'd opened a huge, diseased wound in her leg while shaving it. Frantically, Marcy flipped on to her back and threw the off-white bed sheet off of the lower half of her body. She almost wept when she discovered that her calves were clean. She checked every inch of the skin for any blemish or rash, but it was all as flawless as ever.

All the same, she was far from being safe, as she soon remembered. The disease was real, and considering her exposure to it, she probably was infected. Quarantined in a small shed nearby, her best friend, Karen, was dying from it.

The dog from her nightmare was also real, roaming the surrounding forest, primed to lash out at anyone it didn't like the smell of. It just hadn't mauled her - yet.

Marcy must've dozed off just after having sex with Paul; not surprisingly. She'd been so restless the previous night that she barely got three hours of broken sleep and her fling with Paul had been one exhausting fuck. She'd held nothing back; taking him with a series of rapid, powerful thrusts until well after her thighs were screaming for rest. She pushed herself to make it a damn good screw, because she knew it was probably gonna be her last.

Her lover was nowhere to be seen. He must've slipped away while she was dozing. Marcy wondered how far he had wandered. Was he still in the cabin? Had he gone out to the shed to check on Karen? Or had he gone off into the forest?

Looking out the bedroom window, Marcy saw a bush rustling.

"It might be the dog," she thought to herself. She shivered as she remembered what it had done to her in her nightmare.

She turned away from the window, afraid of having her fear confirmed. With a sorrowful sigh, she climbed out of the bed. She didn't bother to put any clothes on. The air was a little brisk but she just couldn't be bothered.

She left the bedroom and visited the nearby bathroom. Part of her mind was still muddled between the nightmare and reality. She remembered finding nasty red marks on her back where Paul had squeezed her while they were going at it, but she couldn't remember whether or not it was real. These were the first symptoms of her sickness and by the end of her nightmare, they'd become rotten pits.

Anxiously, she turned her back to the bathroom mirror to examine it. She could barely believe it, but there were no suspect marks back there at all. It was a relief, but even with the rot in her back cast away with all the other horrors of her nightmare, her situation was no less dire.

Forlorn, she left the bathroom with no clear destination in mind. As she stepped out into the hallway, she noticed Paul for the first time. Wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, he was sitting silently at the small table across from the kitchenette, staring out the window and seemingly lost in thought.

In her nightmare, she'd caught Paul trying to sneak out of the cabin. She confronted him, but she wasn't able to stop him from leaving. That was where it all started to go wrong. She was left all alone and vulnerable. Her body quickly decayed afterwards and with no-one around to help her, she was easily caught and killed by the mad dog.

Now, it all seemed almost like a warning. If Paul abandoned her like her boyfriend Jeff had, she'd be too vulnerable. They'd be much stronger sticking together; watching each other's back. But judging by the way Paul's gaze was fixed out that window, Marcy got the sense that Paul had different ideas.

Was he staring at the dusty trail leading back to civilization, all those miles away? Perhaps figuring that it would be better to try making the long trek on foot, rather than wasting away in a cabin, waiting for help that mightn't even be coming?

Or was he staring at the weathered old tool shed where Karen layed at death's door? Paul loved Karen, Marcy was well aware. He had since they were kids. He'd always been too coy to make a move on her, though. Marcy had easily charmed Paul's manly urges earlier. But now that his passion had run its course, was he filled with regret for what they'd done? Regret for 'cheating' on the girl he loved, while she lay dying no less?

Either way, whatever he was thinking wasn't good. Not for Marcy.

She needed to keep him here where he could protect her, before he sucked up the will to get up and leave her to her doom. She knew just how to do it, too: she'd seduce him again. There would be no way of reasoning with him to stick around. Nothing she could say would be compelling enough to accomplish that. But Marcy had more sexiness in one of her long, athletic legs than most women have in their entire bodies. She was pretty in almost an exotic sense. Her breasts were large, natural and astonishingly pert for their size. Her ass was firm and shapely and between them her slender waist completed a perfect hourglass figure. She was a wet dream come to life for a guy like Paul, and she damn well knew it. Once she got him hard again, he'd need to be with her.

Marcy stepped out into the main living area of the cabin. With a subtle, "Hmmm..." she caught Paul's attention. Even though he was clearly making a conscious stand to try to ignore her - to try not to acknowledge his mistake, he couldn't help but gawk at her naked glory for a second.

"Hey," Marcy greeted in an oddly casual voice.

Noticeably avoiding eye contact, Paul opened his mouth as if to respond but had nothing to say to her. Without a word, he turned his head to gaze back out the window.

Unfazed, Marcy strolled calmly over towards the table and sat down on the seat beside him. Her arms were straight by her sides, with her hands folded neatly in her lap. She wanted to make sure Paul had an unobstructed view of her ample tits as they were by far her main selling point. Now, she was grateful for the bite in the air as the chill actually tightened her skin and made them look even firmer.

She matched his gaze, staring out the window rather than at him so as not to seem pushy. He was already reluctant. If she came on too strong she might drive him away.

"That was ... that was good," Marcy remarked with an air of pleasant surprise. "Better than I expected. I came pretty hard. I passed out," she remarked with a light chuckle. "Honestly, I didn't think you had it in you."

That caught Paul's full attention. He instantly turned to her with a look of shock. No man could ever shrug off a jibe at his sexual ability. Paul's reaction was practically a reflex action. Marcy all but had Paul in the palm of her hand now. His male ego wouldn't allow him to back down from any opportunity she offered to prove himself.

"Oh, no offense," Marcy clarified after a taunting pause, pretending as if she'd only just noticed the sharp look of offence in Paul's eyes. "It's just that I've always gotten the impression that you weren't ... very experienced," she shrugged.

He broke eye contact and his gaze sunk in shame, all but confirming that his list of sexual conquests was woefully short. Marcy was tapping her tented fingers together and the motion caught his eye, drawing his gaze right on to her crotch - the silken valley that had caught his gushing seed only minutes earlier.

"That's okay," she casually brushed off his silent confession. "I had a good time. You're certainly big enough," she complimented. Truthfully, she had been pleasantly surprised by Paul's size. He filled her very well, which was probably why she'd been able to get off so easily on him. " ... It was real exciting. And I liked your energy."

Marcy's compliments seemed to disturb him even more than her light jibes to his manliness. He turned to look out the window again, making a clear effort to ignore her.

"Hey Paul?" Marcy eventually said, ending an increasingly awkward silence. With an exasperated huff he turned to face her once more. "What do you say we quit fucking around and just do it again?" she asked in a dead-serious tone.

"Look, Marcy..." Paul began to protest. Again he was distracted by the motions of her fingers, which were now gently stroking her bush back and forth, all the way down to her clit.

"We can sit here in silence because neither one of us wants to talk about what's happened. We can go off into separate corners, try to ignore each other and just go nuts worrying by ourselves. Or we can have sex and enjoy each other's company," Marcy reasoned. "Well, I know which one's the obvious choice and I don't want to waste any more time acting like I don't."