Chapter 2

Morning's light waked me. The fire had gone cold but some warmth lingered in the masonry.

Andrea was still sleeping. I crawled from under two layers of comforters. It was cold enough so I could see my breath, but not below freezing. I started chopping more kindling.

Andrea stirred. "I don't want to get up," she said. I have goose bumps."

"I'll have the fire going in a minute" I stirred the ashes, found some embers, fanned them and the kindling caught. With more wood on the fire soon it was blazing.

"We'll need to bring in more wood," I said.

"Do we have enough?"

"Oh, yes ... and there are more pallets to cut up."

"We seem to be burning so much."

"A fireplace isn't a very efficient heat source. Most of it goes up the chimney. We have enough wood for the duration -- assuming the duration doesn't last too long."

"I'll make some oatmeal," she said.

"I'll bring in more snow to melt."

I packed the clam steamer and some other pans with snow and put them on the hearth. Andrea came from the kitchen with her sleeves pushed back to her elbows, carrying a bowl covered with a cloth; and set it on the hearth.

I gazed at her and regarded her forearms -- her creamy skin streaked with delicate blue veins and downed with the finest and lightest of hair. "What's that?" I asked.

"Bread dough." She gave me a proud grin. "I love home- made bread and I never have a chance to bake it."

"It seems we have all sorts of time on our hands. I'm going to stack some more firewood."

I transferred the stack from the snow-covered patio to the carpeted living room. Then I went 'round the front and surveyed the situation. It was still snowing though not as heavily, but the wind was howling and visibility was nearly nil.

Back inside I stomped the snow off my shoes and slipped off my jacket. I noticed a pair of tin bread pans had replaced the bowl of dough. "Now not only do you have a tree across your driveway but a six-foot drift, too." I gestured toward the pans. "Do they go into the oven, soon?"

"Pretty soon," Andrea replied. "I thought it was a good excuse to heat up the kitchen a little."

"The oven is LP-powered, too?"

"That's right. I'll pop them in as soon as it's up to temp."

I followed her into the kitchen as she slid them into the oven. It was colder than the family room, but I could feel the heat from the oven. Andrea sat beside me at the kitchen table. I offered her my hand and she took it.

"I'll tell you," she said, "I'm having a good time, despite the circumstances. It's like an adventure ... a vacation from the ordinary."

"That's what a vacation is," I replied, "a change of aggravations." She smiled and made a little laugh. "I don't think I've seen you smile like that since I've been here."

"I don't smile much these days."

"You lead a pretty lonely life, don't you? I can see it in your face."

"Is it really so obvious?"

"I can smell the bread already."

"Mmm ... I love how baking bread perfumes a house," she said.

"Perfumes ... That's the word for it"

"Does Sarah bake bread?"

"Hell no -- she burns water."

"I think they're about done. They should cool fast."

She took the loaves from the oven and flipped them out of the pans. "Let's leave the oven door open for the heat," she said.

I fed more wood onto the fire. "It's quite comfy here, now," Andrea said.

"That was a wonderful lunch," I replied, "the bread and cheese." I sat on the sofa and she sat beside me. "Andrea -- I need to know. Do you love Ben?"

"We have a good working relationship," she said.

"A working relationship -- that's damning it with faint praise if I ever heard it."

"Well -- I wouldn't call it love. You haven't seen upstairs. He and I sleep in separate rooms."

"Why? ... If I may ask."

"Ben suffers from sleep apnea. He'd wake up with a start, a dozen or so times a night. It made it impossible for me to get a good night's sleep."

"They have surgery for that, now."

"I insisted he have surgery. The condition was affecting his health. He had a tracheotomy. He wears a plate here." She pointed to the base of her throat. "He has a little plug -- a cork that he keeps in place during the day so he can breathe and talk normally. At night, he takes it out and it makes a wheezing sound. I know it improved his health; but ... It was like sleeping next to Darth Vader and it drove me CRAZY!"

I couldn't help but laugh. Then I patted my lap and Andrea sat on it. I looked directly into her eyes. "My situation with Sarah isn't much better." I looked into her eyes and marveled at how clear and blue they were. I brought my lips to hers and kissed her. She slipped her hand behind my neck and we kissed again. "Andrea -- you're just as pretty as you were in high school..."

With the back of my index finger I caressed her cheek, then brought my finger down, under her chin and along her turtleneck between her breasts. I watched her expression carefully for any signal my touch was unwelcome, and saw nothing.

I caressed her with the backs of my fingers again, this time smoothing them across her left breast. Again I watched for any sign I should interpret as a red light, and again I saw nothing.

Andrea undid the top buttons of my shirt, slipped her hand inside and caressed my chest. "You're heart's pounding," she said.

"So is yours."

"I've never cheated on Ben before."

"I've never cheated either. Tell me if we should stop."

"No." She drew my face to hers and we kissed, this time our tongues touching.

I pressed my fingertips against her breast and began a circular massage. I was looking for her nipple under the knit of her top and the bra she wore beneath it. It eluded me at first, but as I stroked her it began to firm and I could feel her little knob through the fabric.

We continued making deep eye contact. Her breathing was becoming slower and more deliberate.

I pressed my left hand against her right breast and began a similar massage. Soon both her nipples were firm enough for me to squeeze and roll through her clothing. Her breathing was now very slow and deep.

Andrea closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. "Mmm ... that feels good..." She pulled her top out of the waistband of her jeans, grabbed the hem and lifted it off. Underneath she was wearing a sheer, front-closing bra.

"You're not chilly, are you?" I asked.

"No -- the fire is nice and warm."

I grasped the clasp, unhooked it, slid it off her shoulders and gazed at her breasts. They were beautiful, B-cup sized with round, pale areolas and pink nipples. It was the first time I had seen them in fifteen years.

"You know, Andrea ... yours were the first female breasts I ever saw."

"You mean since you were about a year old."

I chuckled. "Yes, since then. I thought they were beautiful then and I think they're beautiful now. They haven't changed a bit."

"They have -- they're a bit saggier now than then."

"You couldn't tell by me." I cupped my hands over them, caressed them and rolled her pale pink nipples between my thumbs and forefingers.

Andrea closed her eyes. "Mmm ... mmm ... mmm..." she sang with each exhale. She arched her back, grabbed the back of my head and drew my face to her breast. I kissed and tongued her nipple; then drew it into my mouth. "Oh, I want this," she whispered. "I want it so badly..."

I adjusted the cushions and helped her shift her position so she was lying across my lap. I continued caressing, kissing and fondling her breasts. Her breathing continued to slow and deepen; and now I could feel her heart pounding through her flesh.

She raised her arms and crossed them above her head. It was then I noticed it ... She didn't shave under her arms. I kissed and tongued the sides of her breasts until I worked my lips to one of her little tuffets of soft, fine, blond hair. I drew in a breath and inhaled her scent deeply.

"Oh, God," she said, "that must be so gross. I haven't showered in two days."

"It's your natural scent," I replied. "It's beautiful." I kissed under her arm and tongued her armpit to release more of her scent.

"That tickles," she said.

"Okay I won't," I said and went back to massaging her breasts. I modified my stroke so my fingertips would stroke her hair. "Were you a natural girl in high school?" I asked.

"No," she replied. "This is a newer thing for me."

"Well -- I like it. I never doubted you were a natural, Nordic blond. When someone colors their hair you can tell -- it doesn't match the rest of them. There's no doubt you are one hundred percent natural, and I love it."

I caressed her stomach, unbuttoned the waistband of her jeans and slid my hand underneath it. "Here," she said, unzipped herself and pulled her jeans down. I helped her slide them off her legs and discovered she didn't shave them, either. They were covered with the lightest, almost invisible downy hair.

I returned my attention to her abdomen, caressing her and admiring her muscle definition. I noticed a scar on the right side of her belly. "You had your appendix out," I said.

"Yes -- when I was twelve."

"I love appendectomy scars. I think they're sexy."

"Is it another one of those scars that make us more interesting?" she asked.

"I guess it is."

I traced the outline of her briefs against her body; then slipped my fingers under the waistband and slid them down. Andrea lifted her legs, bent her knees and kicked them onto the floor.

She was now lying nude -- except for a pair of socks, across my lap. I caressed her belly and ran my fingers through her soft, fine, golden pubic patch. With the tips of my fingers I explored the shapes of her labia. She rolled apart her thighs. I slipped my finger into her slit, moistened it with her juices and began stroking her clit.

Andrea closed her eyes. "Mmm ... that's nice ... Over to the side a little ... no, other way ... That's it -- just like that." She began taking slow, deep breaths and I watched her abdomen rise and fall with each one.

I slid my arm under her shoulders and lifted her to bring her breast within reach of my lips. I kissed her nipple, drew it into my mouth and sucked it in synch with my stroking. She held me around my shoulders and I could feel her heart pounding.

"Oh, God," she panted. "Don't stop ... don't change it ... Mmm ... it's been so long ... so long ... I like how you're holding me."

Her thighs began to twitch with each of my strokes. Her lips parted and her breathing became panting. Her heart was racing and I knew she had to be close. "I love you, Andrea," I said, "and I never stopped thinking about you."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Oh!" She let out a groan. "Oh, God! More!"

I stroked her has hard as I could. She grimaced, grabbed me and squeezed; then fell back onto the sofa, panting. "Stop," she said, "Oh, it's too much! Stop!"

"You get sensitive after you come?" I asked.

"Yeah..."

"Was it good?"

"Mmm ... Real good..." She sat up. "Now it's my turn to return the favor..."

Andrea unbuttoned my shirt and opened it. Then she undid my jeans, pulled them from me, slid down my briefs and dumped them on the floor.

She ran her hands along my legs, kissed my thighs and wrapped her fingers around my very firm member. "Mmm ... Nice," she said and began caressing my glans with her thumb.

With her other hand she stroked my chest and began working my nipples. I felt my arousal building and my heart accelerate.

"Ooo ... You like this," she said. "I felt you get stiffer."

I knew I was going to come, and soon. I closed my eyes and tried to divert my attention from her stimulation. "Oh, God, Andrea -- this is heaven," I said. I opened my eyes and gazed on her sleek body, her pale skin, her beautiful face and her crystal clear eyes. "Uhh!" I grunted and with each of my spasms Andrea stroked her thumb the length of my organ to squeeze out more globs of thick, warm semen onto my abdomen.

I fell back on the sofa. Andrea began rubbing one of the splotches into my skin with her fingertips. "Would it really have been so wrong to have done something like this in high school?" she asked.

"I suppose not," I replied. "Was it really so important to you?"

"I suppose not," she answered. She reached for some facial tissue and began cleaning me off.

"I didn't know what I was doing, Andrea. You were the first girl I was interested in ... the first girl I dated ... the first one I saw topless ... the first girl I loved. I was so inexperienced and I didn't want you to know."

"I was inexperienced, too. What kind of a girl did you think I was? Believe me -- I wasn't the girl in the rumors ... We would've figured it out. That's part of the fun, don't you think?"

"I suppose it is." I glanced at her and saw she had goose bumps on her arms and chest, and her nipples were firmly erect. "The fire's gone cold," I said, arose and began throwing more wood onto it.

We snuggled together on the floor under the comforters with I on my back and Andrea under my arm. She caressed my chest and I stroked her forearm. "Andrea," I said, "I keep coming back to one conclusion ... the more I think about it the more convinced I am."

"What conclusion is that?"

"I believe this storm stranded us together for a reason. You and I were destined to be together. We started out that way, but our paths diverged. We came to a fork in the road. You went left and I went right. Well ... The paths have joined up again. I want you with me, Andrea. I want to walk the path to the end with you by my side. I think we can make each other happy."

Her jaw dropped. "I can't believe I'm hearing you say that!"

"Please don't be cross with me. Remember -- we used to be able to be straight with each other ... absolutely straight. If you think I'm crazy, tell me and I'll forget it."

"That's not it. I keep thinking the same thing."

"Leave Ben," I said. "I'll tell Sarah I'm leaving her. It won't be pleasant, I know. I'm kinda scared of her, but I'll just tell her. I'll get a motel room and we can meet there. Then we can get an apartment. I know it'll be messy for a while, but it's the right thing."

"I can't," she replied. "I can't leave him."

"Why not?"

"He did so much to help me after Dad's accident."

"How many years ago was that? Haven't you repaid him? What has he done for you recently?"

"He's gone a lot. We can be together then."

"That's not how I want you. I want us to have a real life together. You could go back to school and get your certificate. I'd find a doctor and we'd see if there's any way you can conceive. And, if not -- we'll adopt -- maybe a little girl from China. I think they're so adorable ... or maybe South America. You could be a teacher and a mom."

"You're making it complicated."

"You deserve to follow your bliss, Andrea. Is what you're doing here your bliss?"

She stroked tears from her face. "Please, stop it."

"There's no reason for you to stagnate here."

"It's all too much. Please -- let's not talk about it any more."

"Okay," I replied and held her against me. "The fire's beginning to feel better."

"Yes," she replied.

"We need to re-establish our bed of coals." I got up and put more wood on.

"I think I want to go upstairs and find some fresh clothes," she said. "Even if I can't shower, I'll feel cleaner in clean clothes."

"I wish I had a fresh set," I replied...

"I put some water I warmed on the stove into the basin in the powder room -- in case you'd like to take a bird bath."

"A bird bath?"

She made a gesture mimicking washing under her arms. Then she bounded, nude, up the stairs. While she was up there I slipped back into my clothes and stoked the fire.

"It IS cold up there," she said as she descended the stairs in fresh jeans and another turtleneck. She was carrying a bottle of hand lotion, and she squirted some into her palm and rubbed it into her fingers. "I get terribly dry skin in the winter. I was afraid this would be frozen."

"I brought in more wood," I replied. "The snow has stopped and even the wind is letting up. Maybe we'll get plowed out tomorrow. Does the snow blower in the garage run?"

"I think so."

"I'll start working on the driveway -- the upper part of it, at least." I pulled on my jacket.

"Wait..." She opened a closet and handed me a pair of gloves.

"Thanks."

I went to the garage, pulled the emergency release on the door opener and lifted the overhead door. The snow blower came to life after some coaxing. I spent the afternoon clearing snow from the drive near the house, being careful not to get too close to the downed power line. I couldn't imagine it was still energized, but that was one mistake I wasn't about to make.

When I had done all I could, I parked the snow blower in the garage and pulled down the door. I walked inside the house and drew in a deep breath. "Dinner smells delicious," I said. "What is it?"

"Beef stew ... You must be frozen through."

"I'm all right." I stripped off my jacket and sat by the fire. Andrea handed me a plate of stew and sat on the sofa with hers. "It's pretty outside," I said.

"Any sign of the town plow?" she asked.

"No. It's pristine out there."

She took my empty plate. "There's more stew."

"I'm full. It was very good."

I stoked the fire and I sat on the sofa. Outside the blue shadows of a late winter afternoon were giving way to gray. Andrea again sat on my lap. I held her and stroked her side, my fingers wandering from time to time to the side of her breast.

"You must be tired," she said.

"No, not really. Are you ready for sleep?"

"No."

"What are you ready for?"

"More of what you're doing..."

I stroked her breast through her clothing. She sat up, pulled off her top and slipped out of her bra. I began caressing and fondling her nipples.