Fancy Jonty and Orlando in some midsummer madness?

There's a new story - Oh What Fools These Mortals Be - newly uploaded to my free story page.

“Have you never seen or read or even heard of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’?”
“Well of course I’ve heard of it. I’m not stupid.”
“I never said that you were. Your brain is the size of a small African state. It’s just a little under supplied in the finer points of literature. So do you know the story within the play? And don’t snort.”
“I didn’t snort,” Orlando lied. “Yes. It’s all fairies and elves.”
“Heathen! “ Jonty reached down with his free hand and slapped the first part of Orlando he met, which, thank goodness for the man concerned, was nothing more delicate than his shoulder. “It’s about finding one’s true love, and it’s very funny. I once saw the most amazing Puck who got three laughs on the I go, I go... line alone.”
“Sounds an absolute riot.”
“If I could get a sufficient swipe at your backside, I wouldn’t half whack it one. Now shut up and go to sleep.”
“Don’t want to sleep.” It was Orlando’s turn to put on a puckish grin.
“Well, it’s too hot for anything else so you’ll have to.” Jonty slid his arm off his lover’s shoulders and turned over.
They passed a hot, humid and troubled night, although none of it involved anything at all pleasurable.
The next day was equally hot, but they ventured out, procuring for themselves a surfeit of ruins, dolmades and retsina. By the time the cool of evening began to waft in, they had their second wind and the thought of staying in their suite post-nap was not an enticing one.
They found a cafe, a table in the shade of a tree, a pair of iced coffees, and watched the world go by.
“What are they up to?” Jonty said, gesturing at group of what seemed to be workmen who were strolling along, gesturing and bellowing to each other in high humour.
Orlando had picked up a fair amount of Latin and Greek in his time, in a mathematical context, but this clearly confounded him.
The waiter, whose English was excellent, came to their rescue. “They say they will go to the woods to practice a performance.”
“A performance?” Jonty sat up, as alert as a greyhound in the slips. Orlando obviously had no idea of the significance of what the waiter had said. “Let’s follow them. It might be entertaining.”
To his astonishment, Orlando agreed without argument.
The woods proved to be only a short distance away and the density of the foliage was quite unexpected. They found it hard to keep up with the group ahead of them, the oppressive air deadening all sound and leaving them more than a touch disoriented. It didn’t take long to lose the workmen altogether. A sense of unease began to arise.
“Stay close to me Jonty.” Orlando grabbed his lover’s arm. “We need to retrace our steps and go home.”
“Nonsense. There must be some sort of a glade around here for them to practice in and they’ll probably have lit it. If we can find it and them they can guide us back.”
“Or we could wander around till kingdom come,” Orlando snorted. “We need to walk exactly in the reverse direction, and get ourselves out of here.”
No wonder Orlando looked agitated. This wasn’t a nice calm English woodland: it was threatening and disturbing and anything might happen.