The sound of helicopters rumbled in the distance.

"Come on," Riley said at last. "We'll need to find food and make shelter. No point in being free if we die of starvation or exposure."

We dressed and cleared a patch of ground between the stream and the cliff face then gathered kindling and lit a fire in a hollow log using Riley's cigarette lighter.

The few wild blackberries, lilli pillis and figs we gathered could hardly be called food, but they added to our meagre supply of chocolate. In the morning there would be fresh nectar on the grass-tree blossoms.

The space between the cliff face and the fire was warm and sheltered. As night fell and the stars began to light the sky, the physical awareness between Riley and me simmered just below the surface.

He bit into a wild blackberry. A drop of dark purple juice stained his lips. I pressed my finger to the juice and spread it across his face, tracing first one cheek bone then the other. I unbuttoned his shirt, slipped it from his shoulders, then took the berries from him and painted Celtic style patterns over his torso, then the curved pattern of tattooed warrior armbands around his biceps.

I undid his belt and slid his jeans from him. I drew dark patterns across his flat muscular stomach, his hips, his thighs, his balls. Gently I drew wild berry juice along his erect shaft. A low moan escaped his throat.

I looked up at him and smiled.

"You're my Pagan Warrior now."

Riley lifted my tunic over my head. The cool night air rippled over my back. I shifted closer to the warmth of the fire. Riley began to paint dark lines across my lips, my cheeks, and then curved lines to my breasts.

Each breast he decorated with spiralling circles around my now-erect nipples. He sucked hard on each swollen breast, sending tingling jolts of desire coursing through me.

He drew down my slacks. I stepped out of them and stood naked before him, in the dancing firelight. His eyes, shining with desire for me, made me feel like a wanton woman. It felt wonderful. I revelled in it.