Chapter 1

I looked out the kitchen window at the fields of white and knew we had another snowstorm the night before. I started mumbling under my breath happy that I was alone and there was no one to witness my dismal descent into the darkness of despair.

Even though I was still a young man, I had the look of an oldster about me with my stumbling gait and my terrible habit of chewing my fingernails like I was desperate for some sort of sustenance. I saw the tracks in the snow coming up to the cabin and then the double lines when the Black Dog circled looking for a way inside. I have to admit I was a bit frightened because I had never seen the dangerous creature and I had a premonition that if I were to see him it would the end of me once and for all.

I started counting backwards from one hundred just to distract my thoughts from the dreaded encounter. I saw the photo of my Gwen sitting in the ski-lift with her face almost hidden by the fur-lined parka. When I was with Gwen I never had that intense fear of the Black Dog, but I had to face up to the fact that my Gwen would never cross that doorway ever again. The name on my front door was Harry Anderson and I hoped that one day it would say, "Harry and Gwen Anderson" but that looked most unlikely at this juncture.

Gwen had been my salvation when I was drifting aimlessly from one sex-crazed grad student to another looking for the right combination of spirited independence and obedient submissiveness when taking what was dished out was the best course of action for both partners. Not that I was some sort of pervert or anything like that. It was just that I was a bit old-fashioned and believed that nubile females should toe the mark at certain times just to give the impression that they had ceded control to the dominant male partner. At other times, I was willing to be more accommodating in all matters related to sexual pleasure depending on my partner's desires and needs. Well, all of that was behind me now because I had committed the unforgivable sin of sleeping with two sisters at the same time and had no excuse when they confronted me with verifiable proof of my lack of loyalty with photos and love letters that I knew would be certain to get me into terrible trouble at some time in the future. I was still shocked that the day of reckoning arrived so quickly because I hoped my subterfuge would at least last a bit longer.

I had hidden the bottles of Vodka when I was falling down drunk and could not remember when I had placed them. I searched high and low and never even came close. I knew it was a total loss but I still kept looking just so I didn't have to admit how dumb it made me feel. Fortunately, I had stashed a collection of little bottles of almost every drink imaginable. I figured I could start with the wines and then gradually lead up to the hard stuff later on. I knew if my sister was here she would be laughing her ass off at me searching in all the corners and even down in the damp root cellar like in a horror story about ghosts and goblins.

Of course, the snowmobile was always there for an emergency exit but I was loath to resort to it because it would be an admission of defeat. I was hoping that the promised visit from the Johnsons would help solve my booze problem because they always brought a supply of gin with them wherever they decided to visit having mutual problems of fearing isolation without enough booze to carry them through. It flashed thru my mind that I might be flirting with alcoholism but I pushed that out of my brain because I knew I had been a much heavier drinker in my youth and it never became an addiction with me. Now I drank just because I liked it and often went several days with a drop underscoring the fact I was not hooked. Most of my friends were big time beer drinkers but I rarely touched the stuff even when it was free. Still, it was good to be on guard because it was the sort of thing that could sneak up you without warning and bite you right in the ass.

I was certain that my biggest challenge was the feeling of depression which seemed to wash over me like a Tsunami unexpectedly without warning.

The sound of snowmobiles coming up from the valley down below brought me out to the front porch and I saw that it was the Johnsons with a pair of young girls sitting in the back seat. It was enough to drive any thoughts about that Black Dog away and I discarded Gwen from my memory at the same time. Now if they only brought the Gin with them, it promised to be a smashing weekend.

I have to admit that Jenny Johnson looked an awful lot like Gwen but I tried not to think about that and asked her how her book on American History was coming along. That was always a key to getting her talking non-stop and just sit back relaxing watching her lips move in interesting patterns with lots of tongue action to arouse my normal male temperature gauge up a notch or two. The two girls were called Nancy and Naomi and they were sisters but about two years apart and not twins even though they looked like identical twins to me.

The girls were old enough to drink but they professed a dislike for Gin which meant that there was more for Jenny, Ralph and me to share. They were all enthusiastic about the cases of beer in the basement that I kept mostly for visitors and not for my own consumption. They asked me about the brand but I told them the water was all from melted snow and had no chemicals at all. That way they both felt they were doing a service to the environment by drinking the stuff and purifying their attractive nubile bodies as the same time. I found myself wondering what they would look like in bikinis in the hot tub on the back porch. I knew that the Johnsons and I would be eventually finding out way back to it and I always enjoyed rubbing thighs with Jenny who preferred to bathe "au natural".