Lauren was feeling terribly nervous about the little game they were about to play and what his eyes might say at first glance. Out of nervousness, once or twice, she tried peeking into the garden, but it was impossible to see through the emerald leaves. Returning to problem at hand, she slid on a tiny pair of white cotton panties and wondered, as she placed a silk stocking on each leg, "What use is this bit of underwear in a game of croquet, “Sexual Favors Croquet,” as he called it?"

Shaking her sluggish mind (for the night before was full of love and sweat, with very little time for sleep), she considered the pleasure that might spark when his hands traveled under the weightless silk of her little dress to find soft petals exposed and decided her under garments should go.

Quickly sliding out of her panties, she made her way into the garden, when suddenly a chipmunk jumped in front of her. There was nothing so unusual about this; Zip was a delightful and frequent neighbor. But then, unexpectedly, he didn't run off. Rather than flee, as was his customary greeting ritual, he threw himself on his back. Furiously scratching his fluffy white belly, the tiny creature’s liquid eyes never left Lauren. She stood still, watching this simple moment of magic, until the spell was broken when he hurried off, although he glance invitingly back at Lauren before disappearing around a rock.

Lauren continued on, carefully picking her way down the steep, grassy hill. Her shoes were meant for pavements and carpets, and so she found herself moving very slowly, always on the verge of loosing her footing. This gave her plenty of time to wring her hands and fret. First, she tried to smooth out the wrinkles in her dress, which proved as stubborn as the knots in her stomach; then she fiddled with the black satin sash in her golden hair.

Down, down, down, inch-by-inch, she edged forward. "What should I say when I see him! I hope he'll like this little dress. I thought of him instantly when I saw it in the shop. But what a wretched thing it was to put on! I thought I'd tear the silk, zipping it shut. What if it proves just as hard to unzip? What if it gets caught and I'm trapped in this silly dress?" Just then, amidst these rambling thoughts, Lauren noticed the black satin bow at her naval sitting at an awkward angle. Exasperated at having to adjust it again, she reached for it when suddenly, thump, she fell down, bare cheeks landing on slippery cold grass, transporting her quickly to the bottom of the hill.

"How ladylike," Lauren mumbled in her hurt pride. She jumped to her feet in a moment and was relieved to see that he was nowhere in sight.

She hurried forward, turning around a tree, and jumped back, startled to suddenly come upon two feet swaying in front of her. There he lay, sleepily rocking in the hammock, arms languidly crossed, his hat covering his face. Lauren stood looking at him in silence for some time. The stir of worries gradually grew silent, and she took a deep breath and reached out, lifting the hat off his
face.

His eyes sparkled and his smile washed her into delight. He rose to his feet, pausing for a moment to drink her in. "Well, look at you," he exclaimed.

Lauren fought the urge to throw herself into his arms, so he couldn't look at her any more. His gaze was intense. "I hope you’re pleased," she replied rather shyly, casting her eyes away.

"It's perfect! You see, croquet is a fashionable game! And, of course, we must play, with cocktails in hand."

He poured her a brimming glass from a pitcher full of sparkling red liquid, ice, and mint leaves. Under the strong sun, it gleamed irresistibly. It should have had "DRINK ME" beautifully printed on it in large letters. Fighting the urge to empty her glass, wise little Lauren carefully ventured to taste it, always minding her pretty dress. Finding it very nice (it had the wonderful bite of vodka) she hurriedly took several more gulps and wondered if the world soon would be standing on its head.

He handed her the mallet and began explaining the game of croquet. Amidst his talk of colors, wickets, and balls, Lauren's eyes wandered to the mountains majestically spread out around them. Green canopies were beginning to show the suggestion of autumn's blood reds and gleaming yellows. Suddenly, she was aware of the wilderness that sprawled out around them, how remote this tailored private playground was. How strange, how alien, how far away.

She felt, suddenly, like Alice in Wonderland.

"Where are my flamingos?" she ask her playmate.

He looked up at her, a little perplexed. "The Queen of Hearts gave Alice a flamingo!" Lauren explained.

"I've got something better than flamingos!" He grinned suggestively.

"Oh, and what's that," she twirled her mallet, and swayed happily to a tune playing in the lightness of her heart.

"For hitting another ball, you get a choice, a bonus stroke or a sexual favor."

Immediately, Lauren decided upon her sexual favor. It would have to be put on hold for the right moment, but having a debt owed to her would be handy when the time was right, she thought.

He passed her a clip and pointed to the nearest wicket. "Sashay over there and place the clip on it." Holding her drink in one hand, she deliberately flung her hips side to side, but carefully and delicately stepped (for poor Lauren couldn't stand the thought of repeating her earlier stumble).

Thrilled with the success of maintaining her balance, Lauren took another sip of her drink and reached down with flare, placing her clip on the wicket, cheeky bum perked in the air.

"Good Sashay!" he announced approvingly. She imagined the vegetables in the garden tittering amongst the chatting bees as they watched the game unfold.

Unsure of this new game, she made her first stroke light and watched her ball fall pitifully short of its mark. Before taking stroke at the first wicket, his calculating eyes met hers, mallet aimed at her solitary, defenseless ball.

“So he has a favor in mind as well,” she approvingly murmured to herself.

Her ball effortlessly conquered, he straightened his back and with royal airs announced "For the first of sexual favors in this game, you Mademoiselle," tipping his hat cordially in her direction "shall play the entire remainder of the game, with a single nipple exposed!"

With a little burst of giggles, Lauren lowered one shoulder, and let the strap slide off, an inviting grin beckoning her lover.

Caressing her breast out of the dress, he lowered his lips, and with tender kisses and exploring tongue, gently stirred her body to life. She indulged the pulsing pleasures, feeling nerve endings stir and heat seep through her veins.

"I see a problem with our little game?" he posited, interrupting her little moans, "How do I know when to stop?"

"It’s your favor, shouldn't you decide?"

Pulling her close, his lips glazed her ear, "If it were up to me, I'd never stop making you feel good," he whispered. And a new flood of pleasure and heat rushed through her body.

“You never do," she thought of saying, but instead clung to him a moment, taking in his comforting scent.

Their embrace broke, and she took the mallet up and gave a more forceful strike, missing the wicket entirely and sending it into untamed grass.

"Out of bounds, Queen of Tarts!" he roared with laughter.

She burst into a peel of her own laughter, "From ‘rocker moll’ to ‘The Queen of Tarts,’ you're a pernicious beast." Lauren had not the slightest idea of was a “moll” was, or what “pernicious” meant, but she thought they were nice grand words to say, so she did. "I'll look them up later."

The game continued on, Lauren stumbling along, laughter bubbling between them. The drink fought off the hotness of the late summer sun; her head began to feel light, and her heart carefree. Eyes always drifting back to the waving canopy around them, she listened to the distant whisper coming out of the vast depths of her mind. She was familiar with this ancient urge to run through the forest in her natural skin and find out what lay behind the next mossy rock.

Lauren's mind left the soft call of the wild, and rushed back to their playground, as their balls announced their union with a tap.

"Darling," he took her hand in a gentlemanly fashion, "I believe I get another favor."

"And what pleasure will the Queen of Tarts give you, now?"

"I will have you, oh so demurely, sit on my face! You must be demure about it though. Give me a moment to fetch a blanket -- we can't have the Queen of Tarts damage her beautiful dress."

After arranging the blanket, he lay down and watched her approach, quite pleased with himself.

“Demurely sit on my face,” she repeated in her mind. Lauren liked the oxymoronic sound of it. She stood over him, a foot on either side and looked down fondly at the rascal. Daintily taking an edge of her skirt in each hand, with the most angelic grace she could muster, Lauren lowered herself to her knees.

"Mmmmm yes, that's quite demure!"

Letting go of the skirt, it fell over his head, and he disappeared under her. A pull of yearning settled in as soft kisses teased. Soon he was lapping at her secret places, and her already titillated body gave way to carnal bliss. As the crescendo of electric pulses start to spin out of control, he slid out from under her, and she let herself fall, oh so demurely, next to him.

She stretched out on their blanket, feeling like a frisky kitten and purred, nuzzling his neck. In the midst of her cooing and nibbles, he pointed out a clip in the grass and then the appropriate wicket silently signaling where she needed to go. Lauren rose to her feet and made her way over to the spot. She bent down, knees straight, hips in the air, and hoped he had a magnificent view as she picked up the clip.

"You've been doing that a lot lately," he chuckled approvingly.

She made her way to the next wicket and dramatically bowed down, again displaying her backside deliciously in the air.

"Wanton hussy!" he called after her. Lauren glanced over her shoulder, a Cheshire smile blossoming on her lips.

She drank some more, and soon the world was weaving ever so slightly. She pranced, nimbly and bimbly, through the grass, chasing after balls and wickets with her mallet.

Until, again, that little click announced a sexual favor!

"This time," he lead her back to the blanket, "I want to watch you pleasure yourself!"

There's no denying, Lauren felt a touch of disappointment. Her own exploring hands wouldn't take her to the electrifying heights the gentlest of his touches could.

Primly placing herself back on the blanket, she slowly eased her skirt up her legs as he lay in the grass before her. A new tingling sensation began to drizzle, as she watched those light eyes absorb her. When the skirt reached her waist, Lauren lay on her back and looked into the glowing blue sky. Her tense fingers spread out and flowed smoothly down her thighs in theatrical seduction. Tracing curves and lips, finding the wetness that had been building through their frolicking, Lauren found she loved putting herself on display for him, being watched though he was unseen. How beautiful she felt under his caressing gaze.

Soon the flood of sensations began to whirl together, funneling from a general sensation and rising towards a climax. As her body began to tremble as it ascended towards explosive relief, Lauren used all her force of will to fling her hands off her body and grab onto the blankets and grass, until the shivering quelled and her body reluctantly simmered down.

"Cruel, cruel Queen! Why'd you stop?" she heard his voice from behind her closed eyes.

"Because that's another favor you’ll need to win" she panted.

Sitting up, she kissed his forehead and made her way towards the glistening pitcher. Her body wavered from the intoxication of drink and sex, and she wondered if it was perhaps unwise to drink more. But the sweat on her skin and thumping heart demanded cooling relief.

After pouring herself a glass, she drank greedily, making her way back to the opposite end of the field. Searching over the rim of her glass, she looked for her playmate - but he was nowhere to be found.

"I've decided its due time for a swim", she heard him call.

Lauren glanced over to the pond, and saw her lover waiting beside it, nude.

"Delightful idea," she eagerly replied; skipping over, she tossed the sash out of her hair, kicked off her shoes, and with unexpected ease, she slid out of the dress. He strip completed with an eager jump into his arms for a kiss.

Wading into the water, Lauren stopped when the cool surface gently graced her lower lips. The water was a touch colder than she had expected. Lauren felt a little timid about swimming through it and wavered a moment. The still waters and open sky, the wind sweeping through fields and around her naked body, all beckoned her to abandon civility and be a part of their world. “ Swim with the trout,” the wind seemed to say.

"I'll count to three,” his voice said over her shoulder. She smiled. Lauren liked deadlines. Listening carefully for "three", she plunged her body into the water, the shock of cold giving way to its liquid embrace. Bouncing to the surface, she looked back, and there he stood, still dry.

"CHEATER!" she hollered, wet hair clinging to her face. He only smiled and gracefully slid into the water.

Lauren set her eyes on the flat rock sitting in the water, a short distance away. For days she had been eyeing it from atop the hill, wondering what the world would look like from there.