Chapter 1

Sometimes, we go into work when we would much rather be huddled under our blankets. Issues like a continuing stream of paychecks, ongoing employability, and assorted similar trifles can mysteriously levitate us from our warm beds, through our kitchens, and out into our vehicles, there to drive in stupidly miserable weather so we could Fight Disease And Save Lives ™.

Now, I used to live in Northern Michigan, so a little snow does not faze me overly much. Hell, a lot of snow isn't much of a big deal. I used to volunteer with the rural rescue where my family lived, so I was accustomed to coding out in weather that even the locals (wisely) determined was too batshit fucking awful to drive around in, so driving in to work during this particular snowstorm only meant getting out of bed early, packing extra clothes, food and water beyond my typical lunch, and heading slowly off into the white out.

I arrived at work earlier than I had anticipated, so I got to let myself into work before anybody else. Or so I had thought, until I saw Sandra neatly seated at her station, looking for all the world as if she had just come in from a spring day to begin work.

"Not that I'm not delighted to spend the day with you, but what on earth brought you in to work today?", was the greeting I received. I summarized the foregoing for her, and turned the question back to her.

"Well, I only live about a half a mile from here, and there was no way I was going to get to Central Clinic today", she explained. "I swapped with Cindy, and she will work there today, since she isn't all that far, and I trudged in here. I made coffee!", she finished brightly.

Recognizing a good thing when I heard it, I dumped my stuff, and went about saturating my caffeine receptors. I took my station, and we began our day. Clinic medicine is different from hospital medicine, but similarly has your day determined by the decisions and actions of others. If folks make good decisions and avoid PDFL fails (wherein Pure Dumb Fucking Luck rears up and smites them), we sit and chat a lot. If they insist on doing dumb stuff, then we get busy. Snowed in folks seem not to do much in the way of clinic level dumbness. That works for me, from time to time.

Our day passed, we performed the clerical chores that came our way, saw the patients who managed to trudge on in, and we chatted. Mid afternoon The Suits called, telling us we were closing down due to the continuing snow. We concluded what we were doing, packed up, and headed out. I offered Sandra a ride home.

Of course, it had snowed yet more while we were at work. I was able to navigate out of the parking lot, after a couple of tries, but the city streets were entertaining, to say the least. I finally pulled into Sandra's apartment parking lot, and pulled to a stop. Once I felt the truck settle a few inches, it occurred to me that allowing her to eject while I slowly rolled past her place might have been a better idea, from a mobility perspective. As it was, I wasn't going anywhere for a while, a fact confirmed by a few experimental attempts to rock the vehicle forward and back. Sigh.

Sandra noticed, as well. "Looks like you might be interested something warm to drink. Lets carry your stuff inside, and get settled."

I juggled the majority of the baggage while she fished for her keys. Once the door opened, and our debris was collected inside, I offered to do some shoveling.

Around a half hour later, I could see beneath my truck (no, I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon), had cleared her walk, and started to excavate her car. I'd done as much as I was going to get done for the time being, and retreated indoors.

As I shed my winter gear, and hung it up, I savored the smell of something delicious cooking. Sandra looked up from the stove, and offered me a taste. "What do you think? It's my Mom's beef stew recipe."

"Yum! May I have some?"

"Of course, silly! You aren't going anywhere for the night. As my knight in shining armor, who swept me up and carried me home through the frozen wastes, of course you get fed, at the very least!"

We enjoyed dinner, and chatted about the storm, laughing about the media's hysteria. Having cleaned up, we sat on the sofa, and watched tv for a while, occasionally laughing about some foolishness or other. After a while, Sandra got up to retrieve a blanket, and returned to the couch, having wrapped the blanket about herself, and leaned against me. I placed my arm around her shoulder, and caressed her arm slowly. She stopped me, and drew my arm inside the blanket, where I found not the blouse she had been wearing, but a terrycloth bathrobe.

I rubbed her arm, as before, companionably, glad I wasn't sliding my way home, while I enjoyed the warmth of the cute young woman at my side. She was 20 years younger than me, a bit shorter than my own 5 feet 6 inches. She looked to be around 120 pounds, shoulder length brown hair she wore in a pony tail most days. Cute, smart, professional, capable. Yep, quite the attractive package.

She relaxed against me for a while, then turned a bit, her right breast pressed against my side. "You know, Mark, most guys would have wandering hands by now. How come you don't?"

"Well, this isn't a date, you're young enough that you are likely more interested in some younger man who isn't bringing along my baggage, and, finally, if I started caressing you, I don't know where I'd stop. You do know I've been admiring you from afar, don't you?"

"What makes you think I'd want you to stop? I know I've caught your attention. The fact that you tried so hard to be subtle is only one of the things about you that interest me. Guys my age don't seem able to stop undressing me with their eyes. They make every move that they seem to think that they can get away with. You? I know you've admired my figure, but you make considerable efforts to avoid being obvious about it. But, a girl knows when she has been ogled. You, young man, have ogled me!"

"Guilty! I hope I haven't offended you. Like you said, I have tried to be unobtrusive about it."

"I hope you realize that sometimes, I played into your ogling. When I saw we would be working together, I gave some thought to how I could tantalize you, and maybe trick you into some horn dog leering. You never entirely fell for it. You continued being your subtle, low key self. That day of the last big snowfall? I picked that jacket and those boots, specifically because they showed off my butt so well. What did you think?"

"I think that you succeeded. I tried to not act like I'd never seen a woman in a coat and boots before, but you looked so tasty as you left for the night, I suppose I might have looked star-struck."

She giggled a little. "Yep, you certainly did. I saw you staring down the hall, right where I was, when I turned to close the door. Made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! A girl likes to feel appreciated once in a while. That look you were giving me, sure made me feel appreciated!"

With that, she settled her cheek into my shoulder, and her left arm across my chest. Adjusting her head into the hollow above my shoulder, she murmured, "Feels like that spot was just made for me."

I responded by giving her a squeeze, and thoughtfully gazed off into the corner of the room. I was indoors, I was warm, I had a cute young woman beneath my arm: life was good. I relaxed, imagining where this might lead, at least according to my fevered imaginings.

After (I suppose) a half an hour, I roused from my thoughts, and gave Sandra a little shake. "Time for bed, I think." I suggested.

"You don't waste any time on foreplay, do you," she grinned back at me. "I usually insist on being wined and dined, before we go to bed, mister!"

I backpedaled, since I had meant a completely innocent slumber. Not my best conversational moment. Stuttering, I searched for something to say. She laughed out loud.

"You should see your face! I don't think I've ever seen you at such a loss for words. Oh, I wish I had caught this on video!"

I was not nearly as amused, trying to recover my balance. I had indeed meant it entirely in innocence, but she had given voice to my lustful musings. The contrast left me nonplussed. I continued to sputter and make no sense whatsoever. Eventually, she rescued me.

"Your bed is in here," she said, rising and pulling me to my feet by my hand. " I even have sheets and a blanket, so you don't have to use your chilly sleeping bag. All the comforts of home!"

I had somewhat recovered. "And sharp witted company! Simply an extra service you offer your guests?"

"Yep!" she agreed. "You ought to see what we include in the holiday package!"

"I might never be able to collect myself enough to speak at all!", I ruefully admitted. "Thank you for the hospitality."

"You're welcome. Sleep tight!"

She turned to exit the bedroom, and I now noticed how short her housecoat was. When she stood, it came to about the middle of her bare thigh, revealing a firm expanse of leg. When she was seated, if must have risen to nearly ... I wasn't sure I wanted to think about how high it would rise, when she was seated. I did watch her firm rear roll as she walked out into the hallway, and turned toward her own bedroom.

It had been a long day, and the unaccustomed exertion of shoveling both her vehicle and mine was the capper. I shortly fell asleep.

Once asleep, I began to dream. I found myself facing Sandra, who was wearing her short housecoat. She had the tie loosened, and was playing with it, nervously or teasingly, was not clear. She had a faint smile on her face, as if she was uncertain of my reaction, but anticipating my positive reaction to whatever she was about to do. In my mind, I could tell I was thinking, "Take it off! I want to see all of you."

In my dream, as if she heard my thoughts, a look of decision crossed her face, and she drew the tie loose of the knot, grasped the lapels of the robe, and drew them apart. Her breasts came into view. I admired their firmness, the erect coral nipple atop each one, I noticed her own breathing was more rapid than I had noticed at dinner, and there was a flush (a blush?) developing across her upper chest and breasts.

The director in my mind continued orchestrating her actions, suggesting, "drop the robe". She hesitated a moment, then did so, her shaved pubis revealed by the falling cloth. I admired her beauty, in my dream, and recall thinking, "I sure wish she would turn, so I could admire her butt!" She began a faint smile, and she slowly turned, glancing over her shoulder uncertainly as if worrying about my response.

She shouldn't have worried in any way. Her firm buttocks complemented her upright breasts, and curved in to meet her waist. Fetching, simply fetching. As if she heard my praise, she smiled a radiant smile at me over her shoulder, and gave her hips a little wiggle, causing delicious things to happen, from my point of view. I gazed upon her, nearly breathless at her loveliness. I remember thinking, "I want you to come to me, I want to hold you close." She turned about, and began to walk to me. That is about all I remember of that dream.

What I do recall, is being awakened by the bed shifting. I opened my eyes to find the room dimly illuminated by outside streetlights. I saw Sandra seated upon the edge of my bed, and she looked at me, both concerned and radiant at the same time.

"Mark? Were you just dreaming?"

"Yep. Very nicely, too."

"uhhh ... was I in your dream?"

"Yep. That is why it was such a nice dream."

"I was dreaming too."

"Really? About what?"

"You go first. Tell me about your dream."

"Do you really want to hear about my dream? It was kind of graphic"

"Tell me. I bet I already know."

That was odd, but, whatever, she had asked twice. "I was dreaming about you. You were in that bathrobe, and it was like you could read my mind. I was hoping you'd give me a glimpse of your breasts, and you did. I wanted you to drop the robe altogether, and you did. I wanted you to come closer, so I could admire you closer, and, well, here you are. Some dream, huh?"

Sandra grinned at me, and replied, "Yep, that was some kind of dream. Were you really thinking all those things? About how pretty I was, about how you wanted to see me, about how you had desired me? All those things that seemed to flow through my mind, while I was dreaming about you, about submitting to you?"

At that, her hands flew up to her mouth, and she turned her head, as if this was an admission too far. I sat up, and took her hands, gently laying them in her lap. Placing a hand upon each of her cheeks, I turned her gaze towards me.

"Sandra, I was thinking those things just now, because I've been thinking them for months. Only a fool wouldn't desire you. Only an idiot wouldn't seek you out."