My Autumn and My Winter

He exchanged a glance with Autumn. Unlike him, she seemed to be having a good time. She laughed and joked with Lashawnda, occasionally pointing toward the gathered men. Steve didn't know what she found so humorous. After all, she was one of the most ticklish people he had ever met.

Kakugari was fitted with a protective vest and helmet. The helmet had an opaque mirrored visor that swung down in front of his eyes. He was led to the starting position, awaiting the signal to begin.

A gunshot went off, and the small Asian man stalked toward the climbing wall with outstretched arms. Junko's squeals of laughter rolled over their heads, and Steve noted that a man sat near her feet, brushing them with a feather duster.

Kakugari had a lot of trouble getting up the wall, as he had to stretch quite a bit to reach some of the handholds. Worse, Junko was no help whatsoever, barely able to breathe let alone give him instructions. It took nearly ten minutes for him to get over the wall.

"Jack?" said Iorich on her phone. "It's me. Yeah, we're going to have to edit down the course footage."

She winced as Kakugari's feet slipped off the balance beam and he landed hard on his crotch, legs dangling over the water.

"A lot." She put the phone back in her breast pocket and returned to watching Kakugari's run. By the time his dripping wet, mud encrusted form managed to limp across the finish line, over twenty minutes had passed.

"Steve," said Iorich "you're up."

Great.

A microphone was thrust in his face while he was being fitted with the vest. He was instructed to comment on his chances for the course.

"I don't know, man." He laughed helplessly. "Autumn's pretty ticklish, so I doubt she'll be much help."

The helmet went over his head, and soon his vision was limited to a tiny line of brightness below his chin. The headset came on and he heard Autumn's voice in his ears amid a squawk of static.

"I can totally still move my wrist. What kind of bondage master are you?"

If her quip resulted in a laugh, it didn't come through on Steve's end. He indicated that he could hear his wife through the headset and crouched down to await the signal.

When it came he was off like a rocket. Predictably, Autumn's attempts at instruction were largely lost amid her burbling laughter. Determined not to make her suffer longer than he had to, Steve focused on the wall. Climbing was something he tried to do as part of his cross fit training, and his fingers knew the shape and feel of the handholds. Plus, his long arms made it easy to grasp them. He was up and over the wall in less than two minutes, feeling for the beam with his foot.

"It's right there! You're-"

Autumn was overcome once more. With a miserable sounding groan, she managed to bark out a few tips, mostly one word declarations.

"Right!"

"Cold! You're getting cold!"

"Hurry up I can't breathe!"

Steve tromped across the beam, feeling it sag under his weight. He stumbled near the end and fell, but he sprang forward as he began to topple and managed not to fall in the pit.

The zigzagging path tripped him up, figuratively and literally. Autumn had largely abandoned trying to help him, and he fell into the mud half a dozen times. He was grateful for the helmet when his head smacked hard on the stone trail during one of his trips. When he at last got to the end, Autumn's voice was clear.

"Steve, you're waaay off to the left of the rope. No, your OTHER left!"

Did they stop tickling her? Not even a hint of laughter.

"Okay, hammer hands, very carefully reach out. Grrr, you're damn fingers keep brushing it. YES! Now swing, sugar, and tuck in those long ass legs!"

He did so, feeling his toes brush the water. Actually, he was so muddy a dip in the drink might not be a bad idea, but he was focused on the competition.

Gratefully, he heaved the helmet off his head and tossed it to a grip. He looked up to see a red-faced Autumn being released from the chair. The man in charge of the feather duster was looking rather miffed, which Steve took to mean that he had kept tickling her.

Impressed with her self control, he wanted to go to her side, but was forced to wait with the other men. Four more times he watched the others run the course. None of them did all that well, and his time was clearly going to be the best of all. For some reason he felt no elation at the prospect, possibly because he didn't think he and Autumn had a shot of winning. She was beautiful, but his own appearance was apparently not ready for prime time, and he had little doubt that the producers could easily manipulate the challenges to hand pick a winner.

The sun had sunk below the horizon by the time the competition was finished. The other couples were permitted free time to wash up for dinner, but he and Autumn had to remain behind for an interview about their 'victory.'

"She's like Iron Woman." Steve smiled warmly at Autumn, who was sitting next to him for the dual interview. "I don't know how she resisted the feather."

"I'm bad ass!"

Autumn's reply was just what they were looking for, so much in fact that they made her do a dozen more takes of it. When they were satisfied, the two of them eagerly headed for the buffet room.

"Uh, how did you manage to resist being tickled?"

Autumn glanced up at him for the briefest of moments before shrugging and marching on.

"No big deal."

"C'mon, what's your secret? I mean, did you put something on your feet, or-"

Autumn sighed.

"Pain, Steve. Pain is the secret. Kinda made a fist really tight while I was being tickled, and eventually it hurt so much I couldn't even feel my feet. Okay?"

"No," Steve caught her gently by the arm and they halted in the hallway. "Not okay. You hurt yourself for a silly show."

"I hurt myself for you!" Autumn's eyes became slits, her mouth tight. "I didn't want you falling off that platform and breaking your neck!"

"Oh." Steve released her arm and they went on their way. Autumn stopped at the base of the stairs and grinned at him.

"Don't be such a pussy, sugar. I'm tough, like you said."

"I know." He brushed his palm down her smooth cheek, smudging her blush slightly. "I know you're tough. I still don't want you to be in pain. Ever."

"Pfft." Autumn put her hand on top of his and held it. "You know how much I like to be spanked."

Steve laughed at her joke, but his mirth did nothing to relieve the guilt weighing him down.

Chapter 22

Steve rolled over at the sound of Autumn opening the door to their room. He sat up, yawning cavernously, the blankets slipping off is bare torso.

"Hey, sweetie," he said past the yawn. He glanced out the window and saw just the barest beginning of the sunrise. "Where'd you get off too this early?"

Autumn paused for a long moment by the door, then headed into the bathroom. Her voice was muffled by the sound of running water.

"It was kind of stuffy, so I got some fresh air."

"Stuffy?" Steve leaned partially out of bed so he could see into the bathroom. Autumn's flannel-clad bottom was all he could see as she leaned over the sink. "Are you kidding me? The AC works great."

No response was forthcoming from his wife. She came out of the bathroom with a smile, her eyes seeming narrowed but unfocused. Autumn took two quick steps and launched herself into the air. Steve flinched as she came crashing down on the end of the bed and slithered up to him. Her body melted into against his. She felt good and soft and feminine, so much so that he was at half mast in seconds.

"You're in a good mood," he said, sliding his hands over her shoulders and back "did your hands stop hurting?"

"With some help." Her mouth was on his then, tongue swirling against his own. There was minty freshness in her breath from recent brushing, but another flavor as well. Something Earthy, with a hint of sourness. He wasn't that put off by it, however, especially when Autumn pulled his boxers down and rubbed his cock deftly between her fingers. "They're working just fine, see?"

"Oh god," Steve's eyes fluttered, his heart hammering in his chest. "I love you so much."

"I love you." Autumn kissed him, keeping his lower lip in her mouth for a moment before moving her face down. She kept going, flinging the blanket out of her way. Her lips caressed his muscled chest, then trailed down his knotted abs. Steve put his hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair-

The knock at the door caused him to glare at it in annoyance. Autumn either didn't hear or didn't care, because she continued on her inexorable path.

"Go away!" Steve said between gasps he struggled to mute.

"I'm sorry," came Iorich's voice through the door "but we need to get an early start today. Tell Autumn to be in the restaurant in half an hour."

"Just Autumn?" Steve bit down on his forearm to stifle a cry that had nothing to do with pain. Autumn's head bobbed up and down, unmindful of Iorich right outside.

"Just Autumn. The men won't be needed until seven."

Steve glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was just past five.

"Okaaaaaaaaaay!" Steve collapsed back on the bed as his spirit released itself. Autumn gurgled a bit, then continued to grip his shaft with her smooth lips.

"Are you alright?"

"Never better!"

He heard high heels clacking into the distance and relaxed. He looked down at Autumn, who was moving her head in slow, confident strokes.

"You get...aaaaaaah....you get all that?"

"Uh-huh," Autumn said, her mouth somewhat obstructed.

** *

Once the sun peeked over the hills to the East, it was impossible for Rich to get any sleep. The interior of the truck got hot with astounding quickness, even with both side and rear windows open. He sighed, stretched as much as he could in the front seat, and reached for a bottle of water. It was warm, but wet.

He felt the truck jostle as Sarah slowly rose into a sitting position. The big woman groaned, sat there for a time, and then dragged herself on her butt until her long legs stretched to the ground. Grumbling about myriad aches and pains reached Rich's ears as she went a short distance away, muttering something about the call of nature.

Not a bad idea. The tightness in his lower abdomen was growing insistent.

Once they had finished, the pair went into the truck stop and purchased snacks. As Rich munched on a bag of stale pretzels and drank warm soda, he ran over the directions given to them last night. Sarah ate one bite of an iced honey bun and tossed it out the window.

"Staler than shit."

"Yeah. Somehow I don't think stock rotation is lazy-eye's highest priority."

Susan chuckled.

"Look, Rich, I'm sorry if I got a little pushy last night. I was just trying to help."

Rich bit back a nasty retort. He was doing that a lot with Susan.

"Don't stress about it, blue eyes. Our mentors have ways of seeing more of our faults than we do."

"That's pretty deep. Confucious?"

"Nah. Star Wars: Attack of the Clones."

Susan laughed, pounding the door with his fist.

"Ah, Rich, let me tell you..." he sighed. "I wish it was this easy to talk to Mason."

Rich glanced over at him as they rattled down the road. It was an obvious lead in, and he took the bait.

"You guys...I thought you were getting along these days."

"Oh, we are." Susan smiled widely. "Things are better with him than with other guys I've dated. Still, we just don't have a lot in common."

"You're both wrestlers. That's something."

"He's a producer, but he knows the life. I should be happy with him..."

"But?"

"But...I'm not sure Mason really knows what he wants, either. I'll never be a good little homemaker like he wants."

A loud squawking started up, emanating from Diablo's cage. Rich thought perhaps he had hit a rough patch of road or some other thing to rouse the bird, but it kept up the racket for nearly a minute.

"What's gotten into him?"

"I don't know."

"Didn't you put some corn in his cage last night?"

"Yeah, duh! Maybe he'll stop in a minute."

They rode for nearly ten when it became obvious that the rooster was not winding down in the least.

Guess I'd better pull over and let him out for a bit.

Rich found a wide hard packed dirt swath running parallel to the highway and pulled the truck onto it. Susan snickered as he exited the cab and climbed into the bed of the truck.

"All right, you pain in the ass," Rich said, pulling the cover off the cage. Remembering his sore fingers, he gingerly flipped open the door latch and quickly yanked it open. He scrambled all the way out of the truck, warily watching Diablo the whole time.

He had been half expecting the rooster to explode out of the cage as soon as it was open, all feathers and fury, but Diablo made a much slower, somehow more dignified exit. From the way Diablo held his head high and seemed to strut, it almost made him regal.

"Feels good to stretch your legs, don't it?" The rooster's good eye snapped toward him at the sound of his voice. Rich dug in his back pocket for the corn feed the rancher had given them.

"Bet you're hungry. Here." He emptied the contents of the bag onto the truck bed, careful to stay out of pecking distance. Diablo warbled a bit, then strutted over to the pile and pecked up a beakfull. Rich retrieved a crushed soda can scavenged from the desert, molding it into a crude bowl with his hands. He poured a little bottled water in it and shoved it carefully near the rooster's corn repast.

Susan got out of the truck, came back to watch the proceedings. Diablo finished his meal and then lapped at the water. Rich wondered how they fed them on farms and in factories. After the noble bird was finished, he turned on his own and went back into the cage.

"Well, that was easy."

Rich stared up at the hot sun, shielding his eyes from its direct glare.

"He ain't stupid." Rich got up into the truck and closed the cage, carefully replacing the cover. A short cluck issued from Diablo. "I swear that bird just said thank you."

"Yeah, right."

The two men returned to the cab and were soon rolling on their way.

"I think you made a friend, Rich."

He jerked his head around for a moment, long enough to see a beady eye staring through a hole in the tarp. Staring right at him.

"Or he's sizing me up for a peck."

"No, really. I think he likes you."

"He won't think that when we get to Kentucky Fried Chicken."

Rich swerved, surprised at Diablo's angry squawking. The truck's driver's side tires went off the road. A loud bang resounded in their ears, and the truck jerked hard to the right. Rich slammed on the breaks, but they slid in soft sand, skidding until they came to a stop twenty yards from the highway.

"Shit," Rich said.

** *

Steve came out of the workout room, clad in a pair of biker shorts and nothing else. A sheen of sweat glazed the hard, round edges of his toned body. He was off of his routine, and was surprised that just one week of easy living had been so detrimental. Vowing to work out every day for the rest of his working vacation, he nearly ran right into one of the production assistants. The man implored him to hurry, stating that the rest of the men were waiting behind the Inn.

Steve took a quick shower, then dressed in the outfit that had been laid out for him. Camouflage pants, black boots, and a navy blue tanktop the same hue as his shorts the previous day. He tromped down the stairs and out the back door of the hotel, and endured another round of make up. Thus dolled up sufficiently, he was directed to the rear exit.

He came upon the other contestants as they were receiving instructions with...guns?

Just paintball guns, he thought when he saw the instructor loading neon yellow balls into the breech of his pistol. Byron was holding his in his ebon hands, eyes narrow with suspicion. It was as if he expected the plastic 'weapon' was going to turn into a snake and bite him. Sam seemed to be quite capable, loading his gun without assistance.

After a crash course in air powered recreational projectile units—what the instructor called them—the men were corralled onto the wooden staging area Steve was starting to think of as home base. So far, all of their challenges had begun at that spot, and the emplacement points for myriad cameras seemed to indicate that it would continue to serve that function. The sun was bright, and a hot wind was blowing across their sweating faces.

"Man," said Cody, wiping his brow "I thought that Canada was supposed to be cold!"

Murmurs of agreement came from the other men.

"Anybody know what the women are doing?" Hideyoshi's eyes snapped to Steve and he offered a polite shake of his head.

"They've been gone all morning," said Sam, glistening with sweat.

Their conversations died down as Iorich hit the stage. They waited for the camera crew to get situated, then the director verified they were rolling.

"Gentlemen," said Iorich. "I hope you had a good night's sleep?"

Nods of agreement went around the group, but Steve noted that no cameras were actually pointing their way as of yet.

"Steve."

Now there were cameras pointed at him and him alone. He swallowed hard, and took a step forward.

"Yes?"

"Thanks to your victory in the last competition, you have a special advantage for this challenge. Give me your gun."

Steve arched an eyebrow, but obligingly strode forward and handed Iorich the gun. There was a nanosecond when their hands touched, and he noticed a look in her eyes that may have been affection.

Then it was gone, and the ice queen returned. She handed his pistol to a grip and was given a rifle style paintball gun in return.

"What? No fucking way!"

Steve was surprised to find that it was the seemingly even-keeled Sam who was the most upset.

"He can out range us with that," said Sam. "It's not a fair contest."

"You won't be shooting at each other." Iorich waited until all eyes were on her. "You'll have different targets."

"Like what?" said Vinnie.

"All will be clear shortly. Let me ask you men something; How well do you know your wive's bodies?"

"Ha!" Vinnie cast a leering grin her way. "I happen to be pretty familiar with ALL women's bodies, if you know what I'm saying!"

Steve grimaced as the obnoxious man slapped him on the arm.

"Huh?" he said. "Huh?" Vinnie kept saying it until Steve nodded.

"We'll soon find out." Iorich gestured toward the obstacle course. Much of it had been dismantled the previous night, rearranged to form a maze of sorts. Most of the walls were taller than he was, though some of them looked to be about waist high. "Gentlemen, your quarry will be released into the game preserve."

"Some preserve," muttered Byron.

"But, you must be careful not to shoot the wrong target."

With a flourish, she gestured toward the Inn. Out of the back door came a line of figures, and with a start Steve realized that it was their wives. Each of them was wearing identical tiger masks that covered their whole heads. Other than that, they wore athletic shoes and what Steve at first took to be skin tight leotards.

Wait a second...

"Are they naked?"

Iorich turned to him with a smile that did not reach her gray eyes.

"Of course not. We couldn't show that on TV. They're each wearing a coat of body paint."

"Body paint?" Hideyoshi stalked to the edge of the stage and peered across the field at the women. "You mean my Junko is exposed to these Gaijin?"

"Everyone's wife is exposed, dingus," said Vinnie.

"Now," said Iorich "we'll find out which of you knows his wife's body the best. The Tigresses will have a two minute head start, and then you will be released into the preserve. Every time you hit a tigeress, you earn points. HOWEVER....if you shoot your own wife, you are disqualified.