Prologue

"Would you mind if I share your table, Pat?"

"Of course not, Carole, have a seat." Pat moved the brochure she'd been studying to give the newcomer more room, "How do you like working here?"

"Well, I've only been here a week but it seems okay and I get on fine with most of the others in the office. Are you thinking of taking a winter holiday in the snow?" she asked, eyeing the brochure.

"Not me, I'm much too old for that. My son's thirty in January and Bob, my husband, and I, thought we'd give him a holiday as a special present. He likes cross-country skiing and tries to go every year and doesn't seem to mind the cold. Says it makes a change from being in the dusty atmosphere at work; he's joiner at the Wills & Greton reproduction furniture works on the industrial estate and if he arranges it in good time, can usually take a holiday during the winter, especially after Christmas when work is slack. He keeps himself fairly fit but groans about his aching muscles when he gets back. Typical man!"

"Kim, my daughter's thirty in January too, January 14^th. She's a nurse."

"Snap! John's birthday is the 14^th, born at 6.13 in the morning."

"I pushed Kim out a little earlier, 4.36, about an hour and a half before you."

They spent the remaining half an hour of their lunch break discussing their children.

"John, my son, is a loner and spends most of his spare time making model farm carts and carriages. He does very intricate work on them and they look beautiful when they're finished but I despair of him ever leaving my home and finding a girlfriend and my having grandchildren. There are hardly any women where he works or in the model cart making club and he's too shy to go to a pub or a dance and I keep hoping that he might find someone on the skiing holidays he's been on, but so far he hasn't even mentioned a girl."

"I have a similar problem with Kim but for a different reason. When she was sixteen a man attempted to rape her and in her struggle he cut her face with a knife, leaving a scar down her right cheek. Between the rape and the disfigurement, which I think she over exaggerates, she stays at home knitting or doing embroidery. She's a help in the house, but Roger and I think she should be over the trauma by now and setting up a home of her own and like you, we'd like to see some grandchildren."

With lunch break nearly over and having discussed the problem in considerable depth, Pat suggested with a laugh, "Carole, why don't we do a little bit of matchmaking?"

John

Even at breakfast on the morning of my departure for Norway, a Saturday a week before my birthday, I had the feeling that something wasn't quite as it should be. Mother seemed very edgy and at last moment, she announced that we would be travelling in her friend Carole's car to the airport and used shopping in Cambridge as an excuse. "Why didn't she tell me before?" I mentally questioned, "She must have arranged it yesterday at the very latest." I tried to make sense of the odd things I'd noticed and particularly the fact that my parents paid far more for the holiday than their normal present especially considering I earned good money and normally paid for my winter skiing trips. Then she wouldn't let me in on any of the arrangements until the last minute and I only found out the name of the hotel they'd booked me in when she gave me the labels to fasten to my rucksack and hand luggage. "It's a birthday secret," she repeated when I asked. When the car arrived I noticed a girl in the back seat and as I put my two bags in the boot, saw a holdall and a case with similar tour labels and a girl's name and the name of the hotel I'd been booked to stay in written on them. "What's going on, Mum," I started.

"Get in the back and belt up," she ordered sharply and held the door open.

A worried looking girl dressed, like me, in winter sports clothing, sat on the other side of the seat. Instantly all the secrecy and hidden planning became clear and I'm sure the girl realised it too.

When we started off, mother confirmed my suspicions that the trip had been pre-planned to get us into a relationship. With her seat belt loosely fastened, she turned, smiled in a knowing way and said smugly, "Kim and John, you've been set up." She introduced us and insisted we shake hands; kissing wasn't practical with the seat belts. "When we found that you both had the same birth date, Kim you are older than John by 1 hour and 37 minutes, and for different reasons, you both had relationship problems, Carole and I decided to try being matchmakers and if it doesn't work, then no harm should be done, you'll get a free holiday, but we've booked you on the plane and into the hotel as a couple so you can get to know each other and maybe form a lasting relationship. Don't worry, Kim, you won't have to sleep with John unless you want to. It's part of a sports complex and the accommodation is mainly for students and school parties and the rooms are for two people in bunk beds, one above the other and with John being almost afraid of girls, I doubt he will deliberately climb into yours. Now, so that there are no major secrets, there are two things you should know about each other; John, Kim has a scar on her face from knife wound during an attempted rape years ago which she thinks disfigures her and her memories of the struggle to fight off her rapist, keeps her away from men." Kim immediately covered her face with her hands and I felt sorry for her, but mother ploughed on, "Yes, Kim, we thought it better for him to know right from the outset and not find it out a little at a time. John's problem, Kim, is that he is extremely shy with girls and I'm pretty certain it will take a little while for you to get him to say more than a few words but, once he's become comfortable with you, he should speak normally like he does with me. What I am certain of is that you will be safe with him, even when alone in the same room of a hotel otherwise Carole and I would never have agreed to this."

For a while she explained more of the reasons for 'setting us up' and tried to insist we held hands for the remainder of the journey but after a brief handshake we retreated into our corners. Fuming with indignation but hiding it, the same as I usually did, I pushed myself as far back as I could and kept quiet. Kim protested vehemently at our parents interfering with her life but in the end sat quietly when the two mothers ignored her. At first we stared unseeingly out of the side windows but I gradually glanced more frequently at her, although neither of us spoke, partly because Pat and Carole talked incessantly. Not ever having been close to a girl of my own age, she looked like any other perfectly normal girl, well woman really, probably a little on the short side, with neck length dark hair and glasses with fashionable frames but wearing her bulky cold weather clothes, I couldn't tell much about her body and, although I tried to get a sneaky look at her disfiguring scar, it was on the side away from me and partially hidden by her hair. "She seems very nervous and I suspect it has more to do with her rape trauma than the scar," I decided without any confirmation.

For the rest of the journey, my mind played with various scenarios, none of which I expected would happen, given that she didn't wish to be with me and, while I often imagined having a girlfriend and lover, I doubted it would happen with her even with us being thrust into each other's company.

Kim

My mind quickly pieced together the little scraps of information. "So that's what's up. I wondered at Dad and Mum paying for a holiday for the big 3-0 birthday as they put it, but I didn't suspect any of their plans until we arrived at Pat Grant's house and she appeared with her lanky son carrying a rucksack with a similar colourful tour label to mine. At breakfast when mother said we were picking up her friend from work and the pair of them were going shopping in Cambridge on the way back from the airport, I believed her. Gullible me. They're putting us together and hoping one and one will make one. Some hope of that happening, not with him cringing in the corner."

Angry and embarrassed at Pat telling him about my scar and attempted rape, my mind pondered over many situations that might occur in the next two weeks and on John's very noticeable shyness. "Certainly he hasn't said much in the car, but between mother and Pat, neither of us could really get a word in. I wonder if that is the cause of his shyness? As far as I can tell, he had no idea of the arrangement either and looks worried, scared more like, about being alone with me, a girl, for the first time in his life, when I guess most men would jump at the chance. Maybe we'll just be two separate entities sharing a room together. Our mothers didn't take any notice when I protested at their interference with my life; guess they expected that but what if I protest further and refuse to go on the plane? Sod it, I've looked forward to the holiday and trying cross-country skiing for the first time, so, I guess I'll go. It's free. From what Pat said, it sounds as if he is experienced with that type of skiing so maybe that is something we have in common. Will he really be as docile as his mother says? What if he isn't? After the attempted rape, I had self-defence training and also learned how to handle difficult patients at the hospital so I should be able to handle him and he's certainly not as big as some men I've dealt with at work." I looked at the tall, thin boy sitting silently across from me. "It will serve our parents right if we arrive home as two people hating each other and not as the loving couple they hope for. Mother's made her views known enough times that she thinks I ought to be married and having kids and, yes, in the back of my mind, I've thought about it too but always that man and the knife pushes the thought further back into the recesses of my head. However, if there are other guests in the hotel, particularly students, it might be worth while to appear that we're together to avoid being hit on by other unattached men."

Eventually we arrived at the Stansted airport, said quiet, rather angry, good-byes and listened to more advice on trying to get together, and checked in.

At the airport, once free of our parents, John seemed a little more relaxed and found a trolley for the baggage and loaded mine as well as his, for which I mentally gave him a few Brownie points, but I dealt with most of the booking in procedures. It wasn't until we sat in the departure lounge with a cheese roll and a cuppa he bought, that we had a chance to talk. I did most of the talking and John hesitantly answered my questions but didn't ask any in return so I gave him some of my background to which he nodded without making much of a reply or commenting. Even with my ability to chat to people, I found keeping the conversation going to be hard work and a number of times I relapsed into an uneasy silence. Somewhat to my surprise, during my questioning, I learned he had been to Lillehammer three times previously but had stayed at the Youth Hostel and not the Sports Hotel. "Will you show me where to go and the ski paths?" I asked and reluctantly he said he would but gave me the distinct impression that he would rather ski alone.

"No need to cover it, Kimberley, I've seen it and it isn't as gross as Mother made out. It's nothing to worry over and if we are together for a fortnight, I will see it many times," John stuttered. At least, during the wait until we boarded the flight, he'd started to talk a little. He'd gained a few more Brownie points by putting my coat with his in the overhead locker and offering me the window seat, which meant he now saw the opposite side of my face. I'm sure he'd caught glimpses of it earlier but now belted in the narrow seats with only the armrest separating us, and my face just inches away from his, I'd caught him looking at it more closely and flicked my hair forward to cover the dreadful scar. At his words, I turned away and gave an involuntary shudder, remembering all too clearly the feel of the knife at my throat and the tip of it slicing my cheek when I struggled to get away. I felt a tear slide down my face and, inexplicably, wanted John to hug me but he didn't. Damn his shyness.

On arrival in Oslo, I began to appreciate John's efforts a little more. He knew his way through the airport to get the bus to the railway station and where to get the train for the long journey to the resort. We again sat side by side but with other passengers pressed close by and talking a foreign language, we didn't speak much. Darkness had descended long before we arrived and could make our way along snow-covered streets to the hotel. "Good evening, I'm Ové and I own this place. Welcome, I will show you to your room and then you can come to the kitchen and I will warm a little food for you. Dinner finished an hour ago but I'm sure you are hungry after the long journey," the friendly Danish proprietor greeted us, "Afterwards we find skis and boots for you, ready for the morning."

The brochure mother gave me at the airport had accurately described the rooms but nevertheless ours seemed much smaller than it appeared in the photo, definitely designed for cheap student accommodation rather than for a luxury hotel and I suspected the low cost had been a deciding factor when mother had chosen this particular hotel. It was clean and tidy but a little Spartan. One wall had the two bunk beds, the opposite one, a wardrobe, a short counter with one chair, and a washbasin. A window in the end wall overlooked the street but very little traffic passed along it and with the snow on the bushes and houses, in the glow of the streetlights, it looked very Christmas card-like. The toilets were along the corridor and, according to the floor plan on the back of the door, the showers and sauna were in the basement. A lounge, with an open log fire, and the dining room were situated on the ground floor, as were the offices. "Which bunk would you like?" John asked when we first arrived and dumped our bags on the floor.

"The bottom one, if you don't mind." For a few moments I thought about it and almost changed my mind. "It would be easier to stop him getting into my bed if I were on the top bunk but maybe I can trust him, maybe I should learn to trust him and others." In the end I kept the bottom one and left John with the problem of climbing the ladder to his bed.

John

Over our meal in the kitchen Ové explained twenty students from Denmark filled the hotel and that only because we'd booked early, we had a place. "They're mad Danes, I can say that because I'm one too, but they're a friendly, if noisy, bunch," he told us.

I'd brought my own ski boots so sorting out skis and boots for Kim took longer than for me but she seemed to open up and laugh and joke with Ové and I wondered if later, she would be as friendly to me. It didn't seem like it when were back in the room thinking about the bedtime arrangements. Most of the students had decided to visit the local beer house but a few chatted in the lounge and greeted us in good English when we looked in. The log fire tempted us to stay for a few minutes but, tired from the travelling, we didn't stay for long and Kim used the need to unpack as an excuse to get away. "You go to the loo while I change into my pyjamas and I can do the same while you change, although I don't know why the sight of you should bother me; I see enough naked men in my job, mind you, they're not usually awake or responsive," Kim quipped and I remembered her telling me that she worked as a theatre nurse in the local hospital.

Outwardly I know I am very shy but I've the same sexual urges and thoughts as other men, I just don't have the courage to put myself forward to sate them, although on the journey I repeatedly told myself to try and overcome that problem. "Our mothers have forced us into close contact with each other and maybe that will provide the necessary incentive for me to lose some of my reserve but at the moment, I haven't made much progress. Perhaps when I get more accustomed to being with her?" The sight of Kim's breasts poking out her pyjama top when I returned, caused my prick to stiffen and only the loose jacket over my trousers hid it from her, at least partially, and covered my embarrassment.

Tired from the travelling but unable to sleep, I lay in my bunk mulling over the day's events, whilst very gently stroking my erection and trying to keep the noise to below her level of hearing. All the time I debated the prospect of the woman in the bed below allowing me to have sex with her, would take my virginity. I wasn't sure that she ever would, not after telling me curtly before I climbed the ladder, to keep to my own bed and threatening to castrate me if he tried to get into hers. It didn't appear to be a joke either. "What an eventful day," I told myself, "For years I've imagined having a girlfriend and this is the closest I've ever got to one and so far she's been more like a sister than a lover. What can I do to change that? Be more forceful? Perhaps that would really turn her against me and I doubt I could do it anyway. Will I ever see her naked? How will she react if I show myself to her? Just seeing the way her nipples showed through her pyjama jacket caused me to have that embarrassing erection, so seeing her with nothing on, could be worse, unless she wanted me to make love to her; to fuck her. Doubt that will happen, not after her previous experience and knife attack but maybe with the atmosphere here, that will change. Will I be able to cope with the change though? Do I really want a girlfriend, or a woman to live with? Do I really want a wife and kids to upset the routine of my life? Our mothers made it clear that is what they wanted."

Kim

After being with John and seeing his gentlemanly manner, my fear of being raped receded and my worry over the ugliness of the scar diminished too. "John's sat alongside me all day, often with his face close to mine and hasn't appeared shocked or even to notice it. Certainly he hasn't commented on it except to tell me not to bother hiding it, but he hardly comments on anything. Strange boy. Certainly he took charge once we arrived in Norway and it's a good job he did. With the plane being a little late arriving, if I'd had to look and ask for the bus and train, I would have missed the connection here. Obviously he must have sexual thoughts about me and he definitely had an erection when he saw me in my pj's but that would be typical of all youngish men. I can't hear him playing with himself above me so perhaps he relieved himself in the toilet or perhaps he took my threat of castration seriously. In a way I suppose my mother was right, I should get over the rape thing and get to know a man but I'm not sure she's chosen the right one, not unless he starts talking to me. At the moment I cannot tell if he even likes me."

Any thoughts of sleeping were nullified when the Danes returned. In high spirits they shouted, laughed and banged doors but when it quietened a little, through the wood panelled walls I heard a couple enter the room next to ours. From the giggling, laughing and kissing sounds, it was obviously a boy and girl getting ready to have sex and my mind flashed back to that evening and the boy with the knife. This certainly wasn't the same. Although I couldn't understand what was being said, the tone of the girl's voice and her laughter, clearly indicated she not only wanted it to happen, she encouraged him. Soon came the unmistakable squeaking of the bedsprings and girlish squeals as they fucked with some enthusiasm and lying on the bunk with only the woodwork separating me from them and listening to the sounds, I became aroused and gently fingered myself to an orgasm and couldn't help letting out a low moan when I came. In the warm feeling the aftermath produced, I wondered what it would be like if I climbed into bed with John and debated, "Would it be enjoyable like when the Danish couple did it or something that would leave me cold and unsatisfied?" I had no intention of finding out though. "I wonder what he's thinking about? Is he thinking about fucking me, or one of the Danish girls? Did the noises from next door arouse him? Perhaps with his shyness he's hoping one of them will drag him to her bed for the night and save him the problem of courting her. Should I do that instead? No, he'd believe I was following mother's orders."

John

Hearing and understanding the activity in the next room, I barely managed to prevent having an emission. "Better make sure I have a tissue handy another night otherwise I will soil my trousers," I mused, "I wonder how the noise is affecting Kim? I think I can hear the rustle of her duvet so perhaps she is playing with herself too. Maybe there is a chance for me after all. Is she thinking of me or having one of the Danes? They seem to be really enjoying themselves and the girl obviously wants the boy to do it harder. Wish it was me she wanted but would I have the courage to do it?"

We met the couple, Bjorn and Vibeje and two others, Kurt and Marianne, on their way to breakfast and from the good humoured conversation over the meal, it became clear that there'd been a last minute bed swapping decision. "Ové doesn't worry unless there is trouble, in fact he tries to get girls into his bed so you had better be on your guard, Kim," Vebeje told us after she apologised in near perfect English, for disturbing us, "Perhaps you should do it at the same time, then you not be disturbed," she added to Kim's consternation. My thoughts prayed that we would but seeing the look on Kim's face, I doubted it would happen.

With the temperature at -8 Celsius and bright sunshine, the day's skiing proved very enjoyable and Kim soon picked up the art of sliding her skis along the packed snow trails. With my long legs I could easily outpace her on the flat and uphill stretches but Kim, being less nervous of the speed, overtook me on the downhill hill runs and I had the pleasure of seeing her bottom thrust out as she squatted slightly and tucked her sticks under her arms to get the maximum speed. Tired, sweating and happy, we returned to the hotel a little before dark. "I'm going to find the showers that are in the basement," I stated, and set off wearing ski pants, a towel around my shoulders and carrying my toiletries.

The large shower room had five heads positioned centrally in the ceiling above drains in the tiled floor and Kurt stood soaping himself underneath one. "Kom in, the others will be here soon," he called and instructed me on the controls. I'd hardly started to wash when the noise indicated the Danes were arriving and to my disbelief, not just the boys.

"Is there another room for the girls?" I wondered but hadn't seen one, and I soon knew there wasn't when the towel clad group with much ribald humour which I didn't understand but could guess, piled in and shared the shower heads. Vibeje came right up to me and said, "Hi John, you will wash my back please?" Others around me were doing much the same and even washing more than backs. All seemed in good spirits and like other boys, I started to get an erection. Vibeje rubbed my back and I frequently felt her thighs against my prick, too frequently for it to be accidental. Again I wondered at my chances of losing my virginity this time and amidst the noise and confusion and trying to wash my new partner, I shyly stared at the tits and cunts around me until another smaller group of Danes arrived dragging Kim with them.

"Here's your girl, John," Bjorn shouted above the noise, "She didn't want to come in with all the others but she needs a shower too. I'll finish Vibeje." He deftly undid and stripped off Kim's robe and laughingly pulled her towards me. In her struggles she nearly slipped on the wet floor but fortunately, I caught her and held her close for a few seconds as the water poured over the four of us. Knowing this might be my one and only chance, I risked whispering, "Hold still, I'll do your back and you can do mine. No one minds here as you can see and it's only play, no sex." Kim's experience at washing men in hospital showed when she nervously got into the spirit of the games and washed my front and flicked my erection to make it go down. Vibeje saw her do it and suggested she wanted to save it for later but from the look that Kim returned, I wasn't sure that would be the case.

Soon the hot water began to cool and while everyone dried each other I compared Kim with the other girls. They were of course younger, but Kim compared well with them. Her breasts, although not over large, were well developed and looked in proportion to her stocky body and her unshaven mound matched the colour of her hair. Her facial scar showed more clearly now the hot water had turned it pink and I thought there might be a scene when Vibeje questioned her about it but she asked the question with concern and Kim shrugged and simply said a man with a knife did it.

The orgy, well nearly an orgy, didn't end there. "We all go to sauna now, you bring towel to sit on," Kurt called to us and we were swept along in a tidal wave of naked bodies all jostling and pushing, trying to get through the door at the same time. "Old people sit on lower shelf," he joked, "Young people go higher where it is hotter." The bottom shelf was more than hot enough for me especially when they threw cups of water on the hot stones and produced a steam that took my breath away. Twenty-two people in the small room meant everyone sat close packed to each other and I sat sandwiched, almost squashed, between Kim and a blonde girl whose name I never found out but she had larger tits than Kim. Irrationally I wondered if Mother knew we'd end up in a room full of naked boys and girls, most of them not bothering to cover their sex and even when the men started to get a hard-on, it only caused some merriment but no embarrassment. Fortunately I managed to keep myself more or less under control and my prick only started to rise so Kim didn't need to flick it again.

Several couples openly kissed and fondled each other but we didn't although I had visions of Kim's body against mine in a more intimate situation. However, the blonde kept me occupied and asked many questions about where we lived and where we'd been and when a few of the Danes started to move out of the sauna, we did too and had a quick wash under tepid water in the shower room.

I expected caustic comments from Kim when we made our way to our room but she seemed deep in thought, perhaps, like me, thoughts concerning where the episode would lead and the difference it would make to our being together. We entered the room and I'd hardly shut the door when she, without any warning, burst into tears. Not knowing what to do or say, I hugged her until she quietened and suggested we'd better get dressed.

Kim

A day to remember for the rest of my life; a day that ran the full gamut of my emotions, from pleasure to fear and many variations between. John woke me when he moved around his bunk and then climbed down the ladder. I kept my eyes half shut and again noticed his prick tenting the front of his pyjamas but he put on his slippers and dashed to the toilet and from my time as a ward nurse, I knew he had what men rudely called a 'piss hard'. Quickly taking the opportunity of his absence, I got up too and had partly dressed by the time he came back. When I left for the toilet, Bjorn and Vibeje, the couple from next door came out of their room at the same time wearing only knickers and pants and greeted me as though nothing unusual had occurred. I tried to act the same way but wondered if I could ever bring myself to make love to John, or anyone for that matter, within the hearing of others, or even to walk to the toilet showing my tits like Vibeje. The Danish openness to sexual matters was far beyond my realm of normal behaviour. Vibeje apologised for disturbing us when we sat with them and two others for breakfast and I blushed when she suggested that John and I should do it at the same time.

John, in his gentleman's role, helped wax my skis and gave me a little instruction before we set off on the trek up the mountain, a steepish climb which took nearly an hour but then we were on a plateau with gentle rises and falls, and, keeping our skis in ready made tracks, made our way through a sparkling white winter wonderland of forests and open land to Lake Mesna. Some of his shyness disappeared too, first when he instructed me on preparing and using the skis and then again when we sat in the sheltered spot to eat our lunch and shared a flask of coffee. Sitting on a log that had been cleaned and used by others, we ate the sandwiches we'd made at breakfast, watched men fishing through holes in the ice and even had a limited conversation about the area. I knew John with his long legs would have gone faster but he slid his skis along at a pace that I found reasonably easy to cope with although my legs had to go faster than his. Slowly I began to see him in a new light, more as a partner and not an enemy or a lover. We made good progress on the way back and on the run down the mountain to the hotel, I showed off the skills I'd learned on the Swiss piste and overtook him and waited at the end for him to snowplough gently to a stop. We thanked each other for an enjoyable trip and went to our room. Surprisingly, given the low temperature, we were both soaked with sweat from our exertions and needed a shower.