So it was that Thompson found himself in a dove gray cabin overhanging a babbling, crystal clear river in the mountains south of the city. It was vastly different than anywhere Thompson had ever been; none of his duties had ever taken him outside the city. The cabin was rather small; two bedrooms with double beds. The kitchen was tiny, but somehow Thompson didn't think that was going to stop Etna; she'd made sure that the cabinets had been stocked with all manner of substances incomprehensible to him. Whatever alchemy she did with those things somehow resulted in things that tasted good, so he didn't complain. Outside from the broad, open patio porch, Thompson could see the rapids of the river. The water rushed down over them, forming bubbles that reminded him of a glass of soda and resulted in a cacophony of soft, bright sound. He could smell the river, too. In some strange way he couldn't explain, it smelled cold. The porch was shaded by the enormous trees surrounding the cabin; looking up was like looking into a vibrant green quilt with patches of every possible shape.
Greene had changed clothes the minute they arrived. She bounced out onto the porch wearing a shirt unbuttoned over a camisole and a pair of jeans and handed Thompson something. "You change, too," she ordered.
"What? Why?"
"Because Etna said so." That would explain where the clothes came from. He looked back through the open breezeway door, where Etna was standing in a wrap skirt and tank top, waving her fingers and giving him a smirk he was more accustomed to seeing on Smith. "Besides, you look weird wearing a suit in a place like this," and Greene motioned above them to the rustling leaves.
He went back inside and changed as ordered. It was a sage green t-shirt and a pair of jeans. They certainly weren't his, but they fit as though they were. They also looked as though they were well-worn; the material was soft in all the places it would be if he'd been wearing these for years. The jeans even had holes in them. Definitely Etna's doing. Hanging the suit in the closet, he came out of the bedroom.
Etna was opening a floor-to-ceiling window to let the breeze blow through, and looked up as he came in. "Thompson!" she said in surprise, and stopped what she was doing. She put a hand on one hip and raised both eyebrows at him, then looked him all the way up and all the way down, very slowly. "DAMN," she said, and turned back to the window to tie the pale linen curtains back. Smith's head poked around the corner from the other room. He looked at Etna, then looked at Thompson and scowled before disappearing back into the other room.
"Hey, Etna have you seen the--" Greene said, walking back in off the porch, and her jaw dropped. She was staring at Thompson. "Thompson, you...I...wow. You look really good in jeans."
He blinked & looked down at himself. He couldn't think of anything to say. "This is where you say 'Thank you,' Thompson," Etna said as though she could read his mind. She frog marched Greene to stand beside him, and with a sudden movement plucked both their earpieces from their ears.
Thompson started. "What are you doing?"
"This is a vacation, dear. The idea is to avoid working." She turned with a flourish and waltzed from the room.
"I know you told me you 'don't have fun', but you don't have much of a choice now," Greene told him, not bothering to hide her amusement.
Swimming was the order of the afternoon. Thompson found himself in a blue pair of swim trunks and up to his ankles in the river before he knew what was happening. Smith & Etna were already up to their necks in the calm pool below the rapids, and Greene walked up beside him. She was also in a swimsuit; a sapphire blue one with a scoop neck and a very low back. She sat down on the edge of one of the rapids & dangled her legs in the water. With no ideas of what else to do, Thompson followed suit. Greene was looking at the water, watching it bubble and swirl and dance.
"You seem upset."
She looked up at him. "No...I'm just thinking."
"What about?"
"Whether or not I'm alive." Thompson blinked, but said nothing. "Whether or not I'm an abomination." She sighed. "There are people out there who would hate me for no other reason than I exist. For a human, that's an unsettling feeling."
"You are not a human."
She winced. "I know." Another sigh. "I'm not really anything."
"Yes, you are. You're an agent," he told her.
She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Thanks, Thompson." She promptly shoved him off the rapids into the pool below.
He'd never been underwater before, and he found it quite pleasant. The water was very cold, but since the sun was hot, that was a good thing. He found he couldn't see very well, but the bubbles from the rapids rippled through his hair, and he could feel the differences in current from his feet to his knees up to his chest and face. He thought he heard yelling above the water, but he couldn't be sure; he couldn't hear well under the water either.
Suddenly someone grabbed his arm and hauled him up. "--but he doesn't know how to swim," Smith was finishing. "His version wasn't meant to leave the city, and swimming was never installed."
Greene was laughing uncontrollably. "I didn't mean to drown you, Thompson."
"I don't have to brea--" he started, but she bounced off the rapid into the water beside him.
"I'm going to teach you how to swim."
"My earpiece is--" he began, but Greene interrupted again.
"You're not going to download it. I'm going to teach you." And for the rest of the afternoon she did exactly that. It was interesting, "learning" something as opposed to simply knowing it. It involved a lot of explanation and trial and error. There was also a lot of splashing and sinking on Thompson's part and laughing on Greene's part. An afternoon of this, and they were sitting back on the rapids where they'd been before as the sun went down. Etna & Smith had long since gone back to the cabin.
"Who taught you to swim?" Thompson asked.
"There's not really enough water for that in the real. I downloaded it," she admitted sheepishly. Thompson gave her a flat look and pushed her off into the water. She bobbed up laughing and wiping water out of her face. "Come on, I'm pretty sure Etna will be cooking dinner by now."
They went in, dried off, and got dressed. Etna had indeed been cooking; something was in the oven and the timer was on, and the whole place smelled of bread. Greene said she was going to sit in the den and knit for a while. It was another one of her inexplicable hobbies; Thompson couldn't understand why she just didn't code a sweater or a scarf if she wanted one. "I could not possibly explain it, Thompson. Could you bring me the little straw basket from second bedroom?" He obliged, thinking he'd sit & talk with her after he brought it.
As he passed the breezeway door to the porch, though, he heard soft laughter and murmuring. Arranging himself behind one of the long curtains so that he wouldn't be seen, Thompson peered onto the porch. There, on one of the broad, cushioned porch benches, were Etna & Smith. Etna was next to Smith but facing him so that both her legs draped over his lap, her back to Thompson. She was kissing his neck from the collar upward very slowly. Smith's eyes were closed, but one hand was stroking Etna's neck beneath the messy bun of her upswept copper hair. They were speaking softly, but between the wind and the river, Thompson couldn't hear what they were saying. Smith moved his other arm. Thompson couldn't see what was happening very well from this vantage point, but from the angle of the arm, it looked like Smith was touching Etna. It looked as though his hand were between her legs, and as far up as it was, definitely beneath her skirt. He kept doing whatever he was doing as Etna kissed him, until finally he seemed to have reached a goal. Etna must've thought so, too, because she gasped and threw her head back. Smith smiled a little deviously and kept moving his hand. Etna's murmurs didn't sound much like words, anymore, and her hand had moved to Smith's knee. She was gasping, and it looked like she parted her knees slightly to give Smith more room to do...whatever he was doing. Suddenly her fingers clenched on his knee and she cried out wordlessly and shook a little. Smith was smiling VERY deviously now, and Etna collapsed, burying her face in his shoulder. He whispered to her again, and kissed her long and softly, much more gently than Thompson would've expected to see from Smith.
Two things suddenly occurred to Thompson: Greene would be waiting on him for this basket, and he got the very distinct idea that if Smith had known he was watching, he would've ripped Thompson's arms off. He had much higher privileges than a regular agent, and Thompson was quite sure he was capable. He hurried back into the den with Greene's little basket of knitting things.
"What took you so long?" she asked, and then looked up at him from the crimson and purple shawl she was making. "Are you okay? You look..." she trailed off, unable to put her finger on what he looked like.
"I'm fine," he said, putting the whole scene out of his head. He sat beside her on the couch and they talked about nothing while she knitted. Eventually supper was ready, and Smith & Etna came back in. Both looked rather pleased with themselves and continually looked at each other throughout the evening. Thompson had no doubt that whatever they'd been up to, they were going to be up to more of it after they'd gone to bed. After dinner and drinks and some mildly amusing gossip, Smith & Etna excused themselves to do just that, leaving Thompson and Greene alone. He sat beside her on the couch again as she worked a little more on the shawl. He sat close enough that they touched, but she didn't seem to notice.
He thought about what he'd seen earlier. He knew Smith had an attachment to Etna; it was well-known that he loved her. He supposed that's what Greene meant about "different types" of attachment. Smith's love for Etna and Greene's love for her were obviously somewhat different. He thought about his own newly discovered attachment to Greene. He was certainly more interested in life since he met her. He much preferred her company to being alone, and he felt somehow different when he was with her. He wondered if that meant he "loved" her. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder if she was attached to him in any way at all, love or not.
After a while she started to yawn, and interrupted his thoughts. "I suppose we should turn in for the night, too," then she looked curious. "Do you sleep? Smith does, but I think he only got into the habit because of Etna."
"I don't usually, but I can. I may as well, since 'this is a vacation'." He did a rather decent impression of Etna. Greene giggled and left her knitting on the couch as they headed for the other bedroom.
There were two double beds in their room, and Greene made a point of lying on both of them several times before deciding which one she wanted. Thompson smiled as she bounced on the one near the window for the 3rd time, pronounced it "softer" and claimed it. She looked up, surprised. "You're smiling at me!"
He didn't stop. "It seems I am."
She seemed pleased, then for a fleeting second annoyed, but then she shook her head and assumed a false sense of gravity. "Turn around, Thompson. I have to change," and at his blank look, she added "into the clothes I sleep in. Yours are right there." She pointed. Though he saw no reason to do it, he thought he might as well wear them since they were there. He was going to sleep; he might as well do the whole thing the way she did. He stripped off his shirt.
She jumped visibly. "THOMPSON!" she yelped, and hid her face when he unbuttoned his pants.
"Greene, you're being ridiculous," he said as he changed. Nevertheless, she kept her face hidden as he put on the clothes she'd pointed out. There was a pair of pants made of some soft material and a shirt that matched, but the buttons irritated him so he left it off. He sat on his bed when he was done. She finally looked out from behind her fingers. He sat, obviously not going to give in to her insistence that he should "turn around" while she changed. When he didn't move, she sighed and moved off her bed to put on her nightclothes.
Hers turned out to be rather different from his. It was a short, swingy sort of dress made of a material he'd never noticed before. It was solid blue, which seemed to be Greene's favorite color. She stepped out of her jeans and took off her shirt with a great deal of scowling at him, and then slid the gown on over her underclothes, which Thompson also noted were blue. She marched over to stand in front of him, kicked him in the shin, and demanded "There. Happy?"
He was mesmerized by the material of her gown, though. Without thinking, he reached up and caught the hem of it, feeling it between his thumb & forefinger. He then slid his hand from the hem upward along her hip to her waist. It had a glossy, filmy texture, and was very slippery. It caught the light in different ways depending on which way it was turned. He liked the feel of it, and looked up at her to tell her, but the words died in his mouth as he saw her face.
Her mouth was slightly open and her eyes closed. Her bottom lip quivered as though she was trying to say something but couldn't quite manage it. Her cheeks were flushed. He was startled, wondering at first what he'd done wrong, but she finally got her words out. "Wow, Thompson." He suddenly realized that what he'd just done felt good to her. He did it again, this time with both hands. She shuddered; he thought she might collapse. She looked down at him where he sat on the edge of his bed. Her eyes looked somehow fierce. Suddenly he wanted very much to do to Greene whatever Smith's touching had done to Etna. He stood up and kissed her softly.
Wearing this instead of her uniform clothes, she felt smaller. He caressed her back with both hands the way he'd done her hips, and she seemed to melt into him. Her tongue found his, and they kissed as they had outside her apartment. He had been right; the errant emotions she'd been causing in him did get sharper again. At that very moment, he didn't care what happened in the rest of the universe. The whole Matrix could fall apart around him, and as long as she was right here, it wouldn't concern him in the least. She stroked the back of his neck and it felt like his skin was on fire. Her lips were somehow both soft and firm, and when she used them to tug on his lower lip as he'd done to her, he felt like he might explode. He pulled her closer and ran his hands along her hips again; she moaned her approval into his mouth.
It was Greene who finally broke the kiss, to his intense disappointment. He leaned down to try and reach her mouth again, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. "If we don't sit, I'm going to fall down," she said, still stroking his hair with the other hand. He nodded, and she sat down on her bed & drew him down next to her. The instant he sat down, she pressed her lips against his, and this time he was the one groaning in approval. He ran his hands around her waist again, and as she seemed to enjoy it, began to touch other places. With one hand on the small of her back, the other roamed over her gown, stroking her anywhere she seemed to particularly enjoy it. He slid upward over her breast and she broke the kiss again, this time to gasp in pleasure and surprise. "Just out of curiosity, do you have any idea what you're doing?" she breathed into his mouth.
"No," he answered honestly, trying desperately to kiss her again. She smiled, looking genuinely amused. Her brown eyes, still fierce, seemed to sparkle with some light that hadn't been there before. He kissed her again, moving his hands to touch her legs. She gasped and clutched at his shoulders. Everywhere he touched her seemed to please her. He suddenly thought of the swimming lessons earlier that day. "Teach me. Please," he whispered.
Something in her seemed to unwind, and she sighed. Seeming to make a decision, she took both hands from his shoulders and grasped the hem of her gown. In one quick move, she'd drawn it off over her head and tossed it to the floor. She sat on his lap facing him with one leg on either side of his. "Touch me," she told him, and began to kiss his neck the way he'd seen Etna doing to Smith. He knew why Smith had closed his eyes; the feeling was almost too much to process. It was necessary to shut everything else out. He put his hands at her waist again and was startled to find her skin was just as soft as the gown had been. It was warm and smooth, and he began to slide his hands over her. He could tell when he'd reached a place she liked because she'd moan into his neck softly, which nearly sent him flying each time. When he reached her breasts, she hissed slightly in anticipation and reached behind her back. She sent her bra into the floor beside her gown.
He slid his fingers over her breasts, and she squirmed in his lap. Her breath came in little, ragged gasps. She opened her mouth and began to slide her tongue over his collarbone. He groaned in pleasure, and she answered with another long, slow stroke. When his fingers reached her nipple, she threw back her head. She seemed unable to make a sound. Thinking of how it felt for him, he leaned his face down and began to kiss her collarbone. She kissed the top and side of his head softly as he mirrored what she had done. Looking at her breasts below, he suddenly had an idea. Mouth still open, he ran his tongue down one breast and onto the nipple in a long, smooth movement, and took it in his mouth as his fingers toyed with the other. Every muscle in Greene's body tensed up, and she made a throaty whimper. Before he had time to protest, she moved off his lap and slid out of her panties, then climbed back onto the bed, where she motioned for him to lay beside her. He did, turned onto his side so he could look at her. It had just occurred to him he'd never really looked at her.
She was tall, and her legs were long. Her body seemed to be made of all curves and softness, covered in her remarkably soft skin. Her breasts were not big, but they curved beautifully, and the nipples were rosy and erect where he'd touched them. She kept her hair longer now than when he'd first seen her, and the dark blonde fell in long, straight lines until it twisted into big, round curls near the ends, just below her shoulders. Her shoulders were broad, for a woman, with sharply defined collarbones that made her look like a sculpture. She'd always looked like just another person before, but now, looking at her as if for the first time, she was obviously the most beautiful creature in existence.
"Here," she whispered into his ear, kissing along his jaw and setting his heart racing again. He had no idea why this should make him breathe this way, but his breath was coming in gasps, just the same as hers. She took his hand and guided it to her thigh, which he began to stroke the way he'd done her waist. She nodded wordlessly into his shoulder, and moved his hand slowly between her legs. She parted her thighs to make room for his hand. When he had reached the apex, she indicated for him to slide upward with his fingers a little more. If the rest of her skin was soft, it was nothing compared to this. It felt warm and slippery and delicate. He didn't have long to think about it, because she writhed against him and whispered urgently against his shoulder "There!" He moved his fingers again in a slow circle, rubbing the spot she'd led him to. She moaned his name as if it was a prayer and her kisses along his shoulder were punctuated with little bites. He kept stroking, and she kept whispering and kissing and suddenly her whole body went rigid and she clutched at him frantically. In his excitement he kept stroking her, using his other hand to lightly pinch one of her nipples. She cried out and bucked her hips, then collapsed against him looking utterly spent.
He'd done it. He was elated. "Did you like it?" he said in a breathless half-laugh, with a broad smile. "Did I do it right?" Greene didn't say anything; she just nodded and kissed him and moved her hands--
And suddenly her hands were stroking him through his pants. She had slid her hand up his thigh very intentionally, as though she were on a mission. He'd never been touched like this before; every fiber in his body felt her. There was a roaring noise in his ears and he felt himself harden beneath her hand. Sensations he didn't know existed sprang to life beneath her touch and seemed to course through his body with an unnatural speed. "Greene!" he gasped. "What--"
"Your turn," she said, and tugged his pants down over his hips. He kicked them off his ankles and she pushed at his hip, motioning for him to turn over so that he lay on his back. He did, and gasped as her hand went between his legs again, teasing and tickling. Her hands were soft and gentle, but her caresses were firm and deliberate. He moaned and pressed his hips toward her. She stroked from the base of him to the very tip, and as far as he knew, nothing else existed but her. He was babbling now, begging her not to stop, telling her how good it felt, pleading with her to touch him more. She smiled at him through their kiss, still stroking him with long, gentle caresses that sent exquisite shocks down his thighs. He began to moan the way she had, chanting "yes" and "please" and groaning her name as she kissed his neck. Suddenly she slid one leg across him and down the other side, so that she was sitting astride him, warm against his almost painful erection. She smiled down at him, and he tried to say something, anything to tell her how she made him feel. In a smooth motion, she moved her hips towards him and sank downward onto him, groaning as her body took him in.
His hands flew to clench the sheets beneath him and a yell tried to form in his throat, but he couldn't make a sound. He was inside her, inside that warm, slippery, soft place. Pleasure so intense it was just on the threshold of pain was radiating through him, beginning where their bodies connected. It was wet and tight and hot around him, and he begged harder. He didn't even know what he was begging for, now. Every thought had been shoved out of his mind. The only thing he knew, the only thing he cared about, was her.
He touched her breasts and her nipples and her face and her shoulders and arms, sliding his hands everywhere he'd touched that made her moan. He wanted her to feel what he felt. He looked at her face; her cheeks were flushed and each time she moved, sliding him nearly all the way out and then taking him back in again, she gasped. He smiled through the fog of ecstasy; she felt it, too. He laughed, elated again, and wrapped his arms around her, pressing his hips upward to meet her. There could not be anything so perfect as the fact that giving her pleasure felt this profoundly incredible. Each time he moved into her, she groaned and moved her hips toward him. Her fingers played over his chest and touched his cheek; impulsively he turned to kiss them as they passed. She lowered her lips onto his, and their tongues met again as their bodies moved against each other. "More," she pleaded into their kiss.
"Anything," he swore to her fervently, touching her jaw with his fingertips, then bringing them down over the tops of her breasts and teasing her nipples.
It seemed that time stopped entirely while their bodies were locked together. If Thompson prayed, he'd have been pleading with every god that ever existed to make this last forever, make it so she never had to leave his arms. Suddenly she stiffened again. Without warning, the wet heat around him tightened and Greene buried her face into his shoulder, calling his name in a wail. She rocked her hips against him and everything became tighter and tighter until he called out for her, too, and something inside him suddenly released. Waves of agonizing pleasure shot through him over and over; he closed his eyes. It seemed to last a thousand years before it subsided, and he was aware of Greene, collapsed over him, breathing his name, her face on his chest. He leaned his chin down to kiss the top of her beautiful head, still smiling and half-laughing through his exhaustion.
Looking a little drowsy, but flushed and smiling herself, Greene slid down beside him and curled up in the crook of his arm. "So how did you like it?" she asked, her hair spreading out soft on his shoulder. He didn't want to speak; he just looked at her, a startling brightness in his green eyes, smiled, and kissed her softly, snuggling her closer in his arms. "I guess that means it was good," she said, and he nodded, putting his forehead against hers.
He had a sudden moment of doubt that hit him with a feeling of anxiety. "I can go back to my bed, if you'd like. So you can sleep." He desperately wanted to stay next to her, and a wave of relief settled over him as she shook her head and curled deeper into his arms, already drifting off. As he listened to her slow, even breathing, enjoying the feeling of her weight and bare skin against him, Thompson knew without a doubt that he was happy.