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Introduction:

This story was written for Mr. Fors' forum competition. The theme was anonymity – we were to write a story without character names or descriptions, hopefully creating a scene that readers could identify with, maybe even pretend they were in. Okay, here goes.

I remember the first time I noticed her. She was walking along the side of the road I take to come home from work every day. There was a lot of traffic, too much to allow me to take more than a glance, so all that registered on me was: female, roughly my age, jeans, t-shirt, walking the same direction I was going, and not looking like she was going to jump out in front of my car. I didn't see her face.

The next day, it was the same thing. Different t-shirt, but wearing blue jeans and sneakers, walking in the same direction I was going. Still no sight of her face.

I saw her every day that week on my way home. I started to expect her, and I finally saw a glimpse of her face in my passenger's side mirror one day as I drove past her. She seemed attractive, but I didn't get a good look.

For the next several weeks it was the same. I began to look forward to seeing her. I don't know what it was, really. I'm the kind of person who likes routine in his life, and seeing her became part of my routine. We didn't speak, didn't wave, didn't even make eye contact, but I came to want to see her. She became a kind of milepost on my drive home, since I always passed her at roughly the same place.

As summer moved into autumn, her attire changed. She began to wear sweaters or jackets to accommodate the weather, but she always wore a pair of jeans. She never carried a purse or backpack, which made me start to wonder where she was going, or where she had come from. It seemed to me that she would carry something if she was on her way to or from work or shopping, but she never seemed to have anything that couldn't be carried in her pockets.

Sometimes, when it was raining, she would be wearing a poncho or hoodie. I felt sorry for her then, and a couple of times I considered stopping to offer her a ride, but there was always a lot of traffic, and besides, that seemed a little forward. After all, it wasn't like I knew her, and she never turned to face traffic in an attempt to hitch a ride, so I always drove past.

Late in the fall, a crew began making repairs to the pavement and the gutters along the stretch of road where I always saw her, in preparation for winter. This slowed traffic considerably, and every day, I saw her as I crawled through the construction delays. One day, she walked past my car three different times in the stop-and-go traffic. The last time I saw her that day, she turned and smiled at me.

That started a different phase in our “relationship,” if you could call it that. As I drove past her, I began to slow down so I could get a longer look at her. It seemed as though she was expecting me to pass her at that usual spot on the road, and she seemed to be looking over her shoulder as she walked, almost as though she wanted to see me. If she happened to glance my way at the right time, she would smile at me as I passed.

Winter was closing in. She traded in her sneakers for heavier shoes, and began wearing a warmer-looking jacket. Sometimes she wore a knit cap pulled down over her ears to ward off the cold. I always knew it was her, though. I knew every nuance of her walk, the length of her stride, the motion of her hips, the way she carried herself.

I was finding myself attracted to my “walking girl,” as I came to call her. I don't know exactly why. She was physically attractive, to my eye, but then, a number of women are. I work with some really good-looking women, and I have a few pretty female friends, but none of them piqued my interest like this woman who walked along the road every day on my way home.

I guess that's why I finally decided to wave to her. I remember that it was on a Friday, the last day of my work week. I knew I wouldn't see her over the weekend, and something made me decide to wave that evening. It was almost dark on my evening drives now, but my headlights still made it easy to see her.

She was walking in her usual spot, glancing over her shoulder from time to time, and she saw me. I slowed down and waved, and she smiled and gave me a little wave back. As I drove past, we made eye contact through my car window, and her smile seemed warm and genuine. She looked happy to see me, and she was still smiling when I saw her in my mirror.

Where I live, the winters are very unpredictable. One day, it can be sunny and cool, but still very pleasant if you're dressed for the weather. The next day, we'll have sleet and freezing rain. Still other days, it will be blustery and bitterly cold. Other times, we'll get snow. Lots of it. The kind of snowstorms that bring everything to a halt, so that schools and businesses are closed.

It was like that one Friday in January. The weather forecast had called for flurries, but it had been snowing steadily all day. At first, the road crews were keeping up with it, plowing and salting, and generally keeping things moving. In the mid-afternoon, however, the storm picked up with a vengeance. A lot of my co-workers left early, although I stayed until my usual quitting time. I knew my vehicle could handle deep snow, and I expected traffic to be light.

Things were worse outside than I had expected. Snow was falling heavily, and with the wind, we were experiencing near white-out conditions. There were a lot of drifts, and the snowplows were nowhere in sight. Had they given up? I knew it was possible. Sometimes, it seems as though they just stop and wait for the storm to pass. My car radio blasted alerts about the road conditions, saying that we were under a blizzard advisory, and that all unnecessary travel was to be curtailed.

I actually made decent time on my way home. Because the roads were terrible and visibility was poor, there were hardly any other vehicles moving. I was able to grind along at a decent pace. I glanced at the dashboard clock when I got to the area where my “walking girl” should be. Surely, she wouldn't be out in this weather. At least, I hoped she wouldn't be.

I almost didn't see her. She was standing along the road, not walking. She had her back to the wind, and was hugging herself against the cold. The snow was deeper than her boots, her jeans looked soaked, there was snow piled on the shoulders of her winter jacket, and the hair hanging from beneath her cap was caked with ice.

There were no other cars on the road. I stopped and rolled down the window. “Get in,” I said.

“I can't. I don't know you,” she replied.

“I don't know you either, but you can't walk in this. You'll freeze to death,” I said.

“I'll be okay.”

“Please, just get in the car. I'll take you wherever you're going. I'm not going to harm you or get weird on you, and it's not safe for you to be out in this. You'll get hypothermia or frostbite or something.”

“I am pretty cold. I thought I was dressed warmly enough, but I guess I'm not.”

“So, get in the car.”

When she opened the door, my interior lights showed me how cold she really was. Her face was red from the cold, but her lips were blue and her teeth were chattering.

“I'll turn the heater on high. Put your seatbelt on.”

She pulled the belt across her, but fumbled with the catch. “I'm shivering so hard, I can't latch the belt,” she said.

I helped her, and then started to drive. “Where are you going?”

“There's a hill up ahead. At the top of the hill, turn right.”

“You'll have to point it out to me,” I said, straining to see through snow that was almost over-powering my wipers. At this point, staying centered between the utility poles was the only way I could be sure I was even on the road.

We were approaching the place where I would turn left off the main road to get to my place. Just beyond the intersection was the hill, which was blocked by stuck cars. “I don't think we can make it through there,” I said.

“Huh?” she muttered.

“The road's blocked,” I said. “I can't take you home this way.”

“That's okay. I'll walk from here.”

“How much farther is it?”

“I don't know. Maybe a mile and a half,” she said softly.

“You'll never make it. You'll freeze to death. Look at you. You're soaked, your lips are blue, and you can't stop shivering.”

“Where am I?” she asked.

Why wouldn't she know where she was if this was the way to her home? She seemed pretty sluggish, maybe even confused. “You're coming to my place. You'll warm up there and wait for the worst of the storm to pass.”

“I can't do that. I have to walk home.”

“No arguments. I'm serious. It's too dangerous for you out there.” I turned into my road. From here, it was a straight, slightly downhill run. I was pretty sure we could make it to my place, but I knew that when I stopped the car, I would have a hell of a time getting it moving again.

The drifts were so deep in my driveway that it was hard to open my car door. She stayed belted in her seat, so I went around to help her. She was almost too weak to stand, and I had to help her into the house.

When I tried to turn on the light, nothing happened. Great. A power outage. This was going to be a problem in an all-electric house.

“We have to get you warmed up,” I said.

“No, I'm okay,” she mumbled. “I'm just so tired. I can't keep my eyes open. I need to sleep.”

“You have to warm up first. Grogginess is a sign of hypothermia,” I said.

She was hard to understand, but I think she said, “I'm so cold. I don't think I'll ever feel warm again.”

I helped her to a kitchen chair and got out some candles. I lit one and put it on the table, and took the rest into the living room and lit them. At least we had a little light, but it was already getting chilly in the house.

When I went back into the kitchen, I found her with her head on her arms on the table, sound asleep. Now I was worried. I half dragged and half carried her into the living room and put her in an arm chair that I pushed in front of the fireplace.

I gently shook her shoulder, but there was no response. I took her one hand in mine and squeezed it. It was cold and lifeless. I shook her again, harder, and she stirred and mumbled. “Wake up. Come on, open those eyes. You have to stay awake for awhile until you warm up. I'm going to build a fire in the fireplace.”

I busied myself preparing a fire, stopping every few seconds to shake her, squeeze her hand, and talk to her. Eventually, I had a roaring fire going.

Now I turned my full attention to my guest. I knew the fire would help to warm her up, but I wondered how long it would take. Was the fire enough? How bad was her hypothermia? I pushed her sleeve up and took her pulse. It was slow, much slower than it should be, even for someone who is sleeping. I also realized that she was only breathing about half as fast as the normal rate. I took her shockingly cold face in my hands and spoke loudly to her. “Wake up!”

She muttered something, but I couldn't understand it. When I let go of her head, it flopped back into the chair, and she started snoring. I shouted at her, and she said something I couldn't understand. “What? What did you say?” I yelled at her.

She mumbled something again, but it sounded like gibberish. What was I going to do? I had to get her out of this stupor. I was afraid she was in shock. I grabbed her face and squeezed her cheeks. “Talk to me!”

This time, I understood her. “I'm too tired to go to school today, Mommy.”

I had to do something. Now. Then it hit me. She was soaked from head to foot. Even with the fire blazing behind the screen only a few feet away, I could still see some snow in the tops of her boots. She was never going to warm up in those wet clothes.

I went to my linen closet and grabbed a couple of blankets. When I returned to her, she was snoring again, slowly. I pulled her upright and worked her soggy coat off of her. I threw it and her cap on the floor behind her, and then set her back down so I could pull off her boots. Icy water poured from them onto the floor. I yanked her socks off and tossed them on the pile with her coat and hat.

Her feet were a very unhealthy shade of light blue-gray. I gently took them in my hands and examined the skin. Nothing looked frostbitten, but what did I know? The only thing I was certain of was that this woman needed warmth.

Melting snow was dripping from her head. Even where her cap had covered it, her hair was wet. I took a towel from the bathroom and made a sloppy turban for her. Then I took a good look at her. She was wearing a sweatshirt and her ever-present blue jeans, and both were completely soaked. Well, this could get me arrested, but what the hell? Those wet clothes had to go.

I pulled the towel off her head and spread it on the hearth to dry. I took her face in my hands again and squeezed her cheeks. This time, she opened her eyes, but I could see her pupils were dilated. Her eyes were pointed at me, but she didn't look like she was seeing anything. I said, “Your clothes are soaked. You are wet through and through. We have to get those wet clothes off you so you can warm up. I'm going to help you get undressed and wrapped in some blankets.”

There was no response. I hadn't really expected one, but I felt better having told her that a complete stranger was going to strip her.

Taking off her soggy sweatshirt wasn't too hard. I struggled a bit getting it over her head, and she did nothing to help. I tossed the shirt on the pile with her other clothes and rewound the warm towel around her head. The blue jeans were a different matter. She was dead weight, and the wet denim clung to her skin.

By now I was getting pretty warm from the fire. I felt her arm. It was still cold. Her legs were no better. Even her belly, which probably had been best protected from the weather, was cold and clammy to the touch.

I got more towels and started to gently dry her skin. Her undergarments were soaked, too. I patted the moisture from them as well as I could. I draped her wet outer clothes over a drying rack I got from my laundry room and placed them a safe distance from the fire. Then I put her boots near the hearth.

The chair on which she sat was wet from the snow that had melted off her clothes, so I picked her up and put her on the couch. I considered leaving her there, but she was too far from the fire, which was the only heat source in the house. Besides, I didn't want her to get too comfortable. I wanted her to wake up.

I pulled an old wooden saloon chair into place in front of the hearth and draped a blanket over it. Then, I moved her limp body to the chair and wrapped the blanket around her and covered her with another blanket. I sat on the couch to figure out what I should do next.

After a few minutes, I checked on her. She was still unresponsive. Her feet, which were closest to the fire, had started to regain some color, but they were still too cold for my liking. I unwrapped the blankets to feel her skin. It didn't feel any warmer than it had before I wrapped her up. Her pulse and breathing were still very slow. This wasn't working.

If only I had electricity! I could take the electric blanket from my bed, wrap her in it, and crank up the juice. The blankets she had would hold in the body heat of a healthy person, but my “walking girl” wasn't generating enough heat on her own. She certainly wasn't getting any colder, but I knew I had to do something more aggressive to warm her up. If only I could apply heat directly to her body without worrying about burning her.

That's it! Apply heat! Warm compresses might do the trick. I reasoned that heat applied to the pressure points in the body, around the neck, under the arms, and in the groin could help. But I had no electricity, which meant no hot water. Or did it?

A few months ago, I had installed a new water heater. My old one had given up, and I hated having to stagger dish washing, clothes washing, and my shower. I wanted to have the freedom to do more than one of those things at a time, if I chose, so I went for a big heater, larger than the plumber said I needed. How much hot water did it hold?

I turned on the faucet in the tub. Almost immediately, a strong flow of hot water poured out. I turned the water off again. Could there be enough to fill a tub for her? If there was, it would probably be the best way to warm her up. It was worth a try.

Returning to the living room to check on her, I saw that the fire was starting to die down. I stirred it and added more wood, and then examined my guest again. She still would not answer me when I talked to her, and her limbs were still limp. She seemed to be breathing a little more normally, and her pulse was a few beats faster than it had been, but the thawing-out process was taking too long.

The bath was my best bet. Now I had to see how much hot water I really had. I put the stopper in the drain and turned on the water. I adjusted it to make it warm, a little warmer than my body temperature, but not hot. When it was almost half full, I turned the water off and gathered all the dry towels I had. I was going to soak her and thaw her, then allow her to dry herself and put her to bed. I prayed that, when this was all over, she would understand why I had taken such liberties with her. I got some of the candles from the living room and put them on the vanity so we would have some light.

Back in the living room, I spoke loudly to her again. “Can you hear me?” When there was no response, I held her face in my hands again and squeezed her cheeks to try to get a reaction from her. “You're not warming up fast enough under these blankets, so I'm going to unwrap you and help you to the bathroom. You're going to soak a while in some nice warm water. Maybe that will get you going. Okay?”

Again, I realized that she probably hadn't heard me, but I hoped that, somehow, she was registering this information so she wouldn't be quite as upset at waking up half-naked in a stranger's bathtub. Then I removed her blankets and carried her into the bathroom. I removed the towel I had wrapped around her head and rolled it into a sort of pillow to support her head above the surface of the water. She was still as limp as a rag doll when I put her in the tub.

It didn't take long for her to slide off the towel so that her face started to go into the water. Quickly, I reached in and cradled her head so she wouldn't get water in her mouth and nose. I repositioned the makeshift pillow several times, but the same thing kept happening. When I moved her body so that her feet were pressed against the front wall of the tub, her knees bent and separated, allowing her to start to submerge again.

Shit! This wasn't working at all. It wouldn't do much good to warm her up if I was going to drown her in the process. I couldn't think of anything I had around the house that I could use to prop her up. Finally, I decided that the only thing I could do was kneel there and hold her.

This created an awkward situation. Throughout this ordeal, I had touched her face, her hair, her hands, even her bare abdomen. I had rubbed her feet, inspected her eyes, taken her pulse, and watched her breathe. I had undressed her down to her lacy bra and panties. I guess my concern for her in this crisis had suppressed my male response to her as a woman. Now I was kneeling, bent over her, holding her head in my hand, and looking at her body, dressed only in undergarments that had become nearly transparent in the water.

I really tried to concentrate on her face, telling myself I needed to keep my eyes there to check her breathing and her level of consciousness. I remembered her warm smile that I had seen so many times as I drove past her. That led me to my memories of watching her ass move as she walked, the way she carried the body that now lay, practically naked, just inches from my face. Her perfect areolas and erect nipples were plainly visible through the flimsy fabric of her bra, and the symmetry and beauty of her feminine mound were openly displayed.

It was getting colder in the house. The wind was whistling outside, and I swore I could almost hear the heat getting sucked out of the air. A few times, I added some precious hot water to keep her body warm. Periodically, I lifted her arm and held it out of the water, trying to gauge the warmth of her flesh.

At first, I ignored the cramping in my back. I was holding a human life in my hands. I had no right to worry about my own discomfort. Then the fatigue in the arm I was using to support her head became more and more disturbing. I was losing control, and a few times I almost allowed her face to slip beneath the water. The only thing I could think of to keep her from drowning was to use my whole body to support her. In other words, I had to get in the tub with her and hold her head in my lap.

It was awkward to do, but eventually I managed to get my shoes, socks, shirt and pants off, working with one hand and holding her head with the other. I lifted her into a sitting position, and climbed in behind her. I tried sitting cross-legged and resting her head on my lower legs, but I quickly found that my legs would cramp in that position, and too much of her torso was out of the water in the chilly air.

Finally, I stretched my legs out on either side of her and cradled her head on my groin. I was still wearing my boxer shorts, so I didn't think this was too much more inappropriate than what I had already done.

I relaxed against the end of the tub, and let my head rest against the wall of the tub enclosure. In this position, I was reasonably comfortable, and I could easily support her head. There was a problem, though. Her head was resting on my cock, which was starting to respond to my view of her body. It struck me that she was my ideal body-type. She was lovely, and my manhood had already appreciated what my conscious mind was only now processing.

Several times, I sat her up so I could lean forward and drain some of the cooling water out of the tub and add some more hot water. Each time, the water from the faucet wasn't as hot, which worried me. The other problem was that each time I laid her head back down in my lap, my cock was harder.

I'm not sure how long we were in the tub. It seemed like forever. Her breathing had slowly recovered, and her pulse finally seemed to be about the rate I would expect from someone in a deep sleep, rather than someone who was dying. Her skin color was better too.

Eventually, she began to move the muscles of her face. At first, it was just a twitch. Then I could detect a little movement of her head. She moved her hands a little, and then she opened her eyes. She was looking at the front wall of the tub, and got a very confused expression on her face.

“You're awake,” I said.

“What? Where am I? What's going on?” she muttered in a groggy voice.

“Look up,” I said as I leaned over her. “Do you recognize me? I'm the guy who drives past you every evening when you're walking. Do you remember the snowstorm?”

“I was so cold. I'm still cold. Wait a minute! Why am I in the bathtub with you? Where are my clothes? Where are YOUR clothes?” She sounded a little panicked.

“Calm down. Nothing happened. I tried to give you a ride home, but the road was blocked, so I brought you home with me. The roads are completely drifted shut, the power is out, and you lost consciousness from hypothermia. I tried everything to warm you up, but I had to get you out of your frozen clothes. I put you in a chair in front of the fireplace and wrapped you in blankets, but you just weren't warming up, so I ran a hot bath and put you in it.”

“Why are you in here with me?” she asked.

“You were out cold, no pun intended, and I couldn't figure out how to support your head so you wouldn't drown. The only thing I could think of was to get in here with you and cradle your head in my lap.”

“Oh. So I passed out?”

“Yes. You were suffering from exposure and hypothermia.”

“I've heard of people doing that . That's when they freeze to death,” she said.

“That's what I was afraid was going to happen to you.”

“You saved my life.”

“Do you feel like you can sit up? I'll help you.”

I lifted her into a sitting position.

“You saved my life. I could have died out there. I don't really remember getting in your car. I just remember being colder than I've ever been before. I was so tired. I think I was looking for a place to lie down and rest.”

“I'm glad you didn't find one. I don't want to think about what would have happened if I hadn't seen you,” I said.

“I knew I shouldn't lie down, but I couldn't move any more.”

“You were pretty out of it. Why in God's name were you trying to walk in that weather?”

She looked a little embarrassed. “I had to get home.”

“Should you call home to let your family know you're all right?”

“I live alone. There's no one to call.”

“Well, then, I'm going to get out of the tub and get us some towels. Will you be okay if I let you alone for a moment?”

“I'm fine, I think. I'm just so weak and cold.”

“I know. Stay in the water until I get you some towels and something to wear.”

“Where are my clothes?” she asked.

“I hung them near the fire in the living room. They were dripping wet. I doubt they'll be dry enough to wear before morning.”

“What am I going to do?”

“You're going to sleep here by the fire. It's the only heat source I have right now. You can't go home. We're snowed in. The roads are impassable, and the wind is still blowing outside. I'll heat some water in the fireplace for instant coffee, if you can stand it.”

“That sounds great.” For the first time that day, she smiled at me.

When I got out of the tub, the cold air was more than enough to tame my erection. “Are you sure you're awake? Will you be okay in here alone for a couple minutes?” I asked.

“I don't feel normal, if that's what you're asking, but I'm not sleepy any more.”

“Okay. I'm going to dry off and get dressed. Here are a couple of towels. I'll bring you something to wear. Stay in the water until I get back. It's a lot warmer than the air in here.”

“Thank you.”

I didn't think to knock when I returned to the bathroom with a a sweatshirt, sweatpants and some fleece socks. I didn't expect to see her standing there, wrapping a towel around herself. She had removed her wet underwear, and I got a quick but clear look at her bare breasts and pussy mound.

“Oh! I didn't expect you back so soon.”

“I'm so sorry. I should have knocked,” I said.

“Don't be silly. It's your house. Besides, while I was passed out you could have done anything you wanted to me.”

“I didn't.”

“I didn't think you did. But you could have. You could have decided that I owed you that for saving my life. I appreciate the fact that you were a gentleman,” she said.

“I'm going out to add wood to the fire and work on our sleeping arrangements. When you're done in here, would you bring the candles with you?”

“Sure, she nodded.”

In a few minutes, she joined me in the living room. The fire had burned down to just a bed of coals, so I added a lot of wood to get it roaring again.

“I look ridiculous,” she said. She started to laugh. The sound was wonderful.

“Why do you say that? I think you look great.”

“With my stringy, wet hair, wearing a man's sweatsuit that I could probably squeeze two of me into and fleece socks that must be three sizes too big. Yeah, a real vision of loveliness.”

“Come sit in front of the fire and wrap up in that blanket. Are you warm enough?”

“Compared to how I felt out on the road, I'm downright toasty. In reality, though, I'm still pretty cold. That fire and a blanket will feel really good.”

“I wish I could get it warmer in here,” I said. “Especially for you. You've warmed up a lot, but I'm still worried that your core temperature isn't up to normal. We're both going to have to sleep out here. It's freezing in the bedroom.”

“We can't sleep on the hardwood floor. It's a cold surface, and the cold air in a room falls to the floor, which will make us even colder.”

“You can sleep on the couch,” I offered.

“Where would you sleep?”

“In the armchair.”

“That doesn't look very comfortable for sleeping,” she said as she walked toward it. “Oh, you can't sleep on this. It's soaking wet.”

“Oh yeah, that's where I put you when I first brought you in here in your snowy clothes. You're right, I can't use that. I'll use the saloon chair.”

“That thing's as hard as a rock. You can't sleep on that.”

“I'll be okay,” I said.

“Nonsense. It's a big couch. We can share. Besides, that way we can both wrap up in all the blankets. We can share body heat and have plenty of insulation at the same time.”

“Are you sure you're okay with that?” I asked.

“We were just in the tub together in our underwear. I don't think I'll have a problem with this,” she chuckled.

I pushed the other chairs out of the way and dragged the sofa across the floor to put it closer to the fire. “How about that coffee?” I asked.

“I can hardly wait.”

“It's decaf instant. I don't have any cream or sugar.”

“At this point, I'm not choosy.”

“I could add some brandy.”

“Oh, would you? That sounds delicious!” she gushed.

By the time I had made our mugs of spiked coffee, she had arranged herself on the couch, bundled in two blankets. There were two more for me to use. I handed her both mugs and wrapped myself in my own blanket cocoon. When I was settled, she handed me my coffee.

“A toast?” she asked.

“Sure. To summer. Let us never complain about the heat and humidity again.”

Her laugh was a beautiful sound. “I'll drink to that!”

We sipped our steaming mugs in silence for a while.

“I'd like to propose another toast,” she said.

“To what?”

She smiled, “I'd like to drink to the man who saved my life tonight. I don't know how I'll ever repay you.”

“I don't expect you to. Seeing you thawed out and smiling is all the payment I need.”

We finished our coffee.

“I hate to leave this nice warm fire, but I think I'd better use the bathroom before we go to sleep. Are you ready to bed down for the night?”

“It's more like bedding down for the morning, but yes, I'm ready.”

“Let's straighten out all four blankets and tuck them between the seat cushions and the back of the couch. You can work on getting it warm under there while I'm gone.”

I lay on my side, pushed myself against the back of the couch, and re-arranged the blankets so she could crawl under them. In a moment she returned and lay down in front of me, facing the fire so we were spooning.

“God, it's cold out there. Will you hold me? I need your warmth.”

She snuggled back against me. I was very aware of the feel of her buttocks separated from my penis by only two layers of sweatsuit fabric. She pulled my arm around her, so that I was holding her body just below her breasts, and put her arm on top of mine, holding us in place.

Her damp hair was in my face, but I didn't mind. It felt good to hold her. I just hoped she would fall asleep before I became fully erect.

The next thing I knew, I felt a hand caressing my face.

“Are you awake?” she whispered.

I opened my eyes. Bright sunshine was streaming through the windows. “I wonder what time it is,” I said.

“Your mantle clock says it's just past ten. It stopped snowing and blowing, but we're definitely snowed in. I got up to go to the bathroom and looked outside. I can barely see the roof of your car in the driveway. I've never seen such drifts,” she said.

“I guess we should get up and try to figure out what we're going to do today. We also need to eat.”

She rolled over to face me. I could feel her breasts pressing against my chest.

“I snooped around in your kitchen. You have an electric stove, so I can't make you a hot breakfast,” she said. “I didn't open the refrigerator because I didn't want to let any more cold air out, but your pantry has what I need to make a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich. ”

“My favorite,” I laughed.

Her face grew serious. “Thank you for last night.”

“Don't mention it. I only did what was right,” I said.

“I guess, but you did it for me. You rescued me, you kept me safe, and you held me close all night. That means a lot to me.”

She stroked my stubbly cheek.. Her soft hand finally felt warm against me. She smiled at me for a few seconds, and then she kissed me.

It was a soft kiss, more than a peck, but it was too brief for me to understand where she intended to go from there. I knew what I wanted, but I wasn't sure she meant to lead me on, so I didn't kiss her back. She pulled back slowly, smiled again, blushed, and lowered her eyes.

“I'll go make those sandwiches now,” she whispered.

She unwrapped us from the blankets, and the cold air hit us immediately. “Brrrrrr!” I said. “It's really gotten cold in here. I'd better get this fire going again.”

“Why is it so cold in here?” she asked. “Isn't your furnace working?”

“Electric heat,” I said. “Pretty much useless when the power is out.”

“Fold those warm blankets over to keep the heat inside,” she suggested. “We can wrap up in them again while we eat.”

It didn't take long to have the fire burning brightly again, and soon we were giggling like a pair of kids, cocooned in our blankets, eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in front of the fire.

“I wonder when they'll get the electricity back on,” I said.

“How much firewood do you have? It's going to get awfully cold in here if the fire goes out,” she said, sounding a little worried.

“I just got a cord of seasoned hardwood a few weeks ago, so that's not a problem. I'll bring some in after our feast. I probably should start clearing the driveway, too, so that we can get out of here after the snowplows come through.”

“I'll help you,” she said.

“No way. Your clothes probably aren't completely dry, and besides, I'm not letting you get cold again. It's bad enough for you in here. I'm not letting you expose yourself to the cold weather outside. There's a bookcase over there. You curl up under the blankets with a book. That's an order!”

“Oh, the domineering 'me Tarzan, you Jane' type, huh? That's sweet. Thank you. But you shouldn't let yourself get too cold either. I don't want to have to try to thaw you out.”

The memory of the two of us, in our underwear in the tub, flashed through my mind. I remembered how good she looked in her transparent bra and panties and how hard I got with her head in my lap.

It took most of the afternoon for me to dig my car out of the drifts and to shovel the driveway. By the time I went inside, it was getting dark.

When I got into the living room, I found her kneeling on the hearth, stirring something in a pot.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“Yeah, as a matter of fact. What's that?”

“I found some cans of stew in your pantry. It's not exactly gourmet cooking, but it's the best I can do,” she said.

“I'm sure it will be wonderful. This is definitely a hot stew kind of day.”

“Any sign of a snowplow?”

“I thought I could hear some equipment out on the main road when I was outside, but nothing has come down this road. It's going to take a while, I imagine. We had a hell of a lot of snow.”

“Don't I remember that the forecast called for flurries?” she asked.

“Yeah, but they didn't mention that we'd have over two feet of them with gale-force winds,” I chuckled.

“Well, it's a weekend. You don't have to be at work until Monday, do you?”

“No. You?”

“No. You know, this could be a fun adventure if we had electricity,” she said. “I'd really like to be able to wash up a bit.”

“I have an idea. We could heat some water in the fireplace and then pour it in the bathroom sink for sponge baths,” I suggested.

“That would be very nice.”

We finished our meal, and I then placed a large pot of water near the fire to heat. “You can wash up first,” I said. I'll find you a fresh set of sweatclothes to wear for bed.”

I knocked on the bathroom door to give her the clothes I had found for her.

“It's okay, come in,” she said.

I opened the door, and saw her, wrapped in a towel that barely covered her. Her hard nipples were visible poking against the terrycloth, even in the light of the single candle she had taken into the bathroom.

“It's really starting to get cold in this house,” she said. “I can hardly wait to put on some clothes and get back to the fire.” She turned her back to me and dropped her towel. As she bent to put on the sweatpants, I studied the curve of her ass, and realized I could see her pussy lips peeking from the space between her legs. When she put her shirt on, I got a glimpse of her tits in the mirror. She seemed more beautiful to me with every minute we spent together.

When she turned to face me, it was obvious that she saw the bulge forming in my own sweatpants.

“I'll go heat some more water,” I said, hurrying out of the bathroom. I stirred the fire, added more wood, and contemplated my situation.

I was snowbound in my house with a woman I didn't know, and I had just seen her naked. Last night, I had stripped her to her underwear and held her body against me in the bathtub, ogling her breasts and pussy through her wet bra and panties. I had gotten an erection from holding her unconscious head in my lap. I had then gotten a brief flash of her from the front, fully naked, when she was drying herself.

We had spent the night cuddled together on my couch, my hard cock pushing against her ass. In the morning, she had kissed me, making my manhood stir again, and causing me to wonder how far I could take things with her.

Moments ago, I had drooled over her ass and boobs as I watched her dress, and she had seen my cock stirring in my pants. Soon we were going to be snuggled against each other on the sofa again. When I got hard again, which I knew I would, what would she think of me?

“The bathroom's free,” she said happily, as she arranged the blankets on the couch. “I'll start warming up our bed.”

I got some clothes for myself, and took the pot of water into the bathroom. I was busy washing my cock and balls, and, I admit, playing with myself a bit, when the light over the vanity came on. The power had been restored!

She burst through the bathroom door. “The lights are on.... Oh my!” She was looking at my erection, her eyes wide. “Um, wow! Sorry, I'll let you have some privacy.” Her face was as red as mine as she quickly left the bathroom and closed the door.

Great. Now she thinks I'm a pervert. Maybe I am. I finished my sponge bath and dressed. My embarrassment had caused my hard-on to shrink.

When I came out of the bathroom, I found her in the kitchen.

“How about some real, freshly brewed coffee with some of that brandy tonight?” she said. “I opened your refrigerator and took inventory. I don't know that I'd trust the milk and eggs, but everything else in there should be okay. It stayed pretty cool in there.”

“I think my fridge has better insulation than this house,” I said. “It's going to take a while for the heating system to warm this place up.”

“Well, I guess we'll just have to bundle up on the couch again,” she said with a little smile. “That wasn't too bad.”

“You don't have to sleep on the couch tonight” I said. “I have an electric blanket on my bed. You can be nice and toasty in there.”

“Where will you sleep?” she asked.

“On the couch. Lord knows, we have plenty of blankets.”

“It's pretty early to go to bed, don't you think?” she asked.

“I guess so. Maybe we should turn on the TV. I wonder how badly the storm crippled this area.”

“Let's find out. Maybe there will be something on about how they're doing with clearing the smaller roads like this one,” she said.

We took our mugs of coffee and brandy into the living room and turned the couch so we could see the TV. We bundled up together again, and sat back to watch. There was no signal from the cable TV. It apparently had been knocked out by the storm. I said, “Do you want to watch a movie?”

She got up to rummage through my movie collection. “Hmmm. Action, adventure, sci-fi, typical guy stuff. Oh, my, that one looks a little racy. My, my, you have a bit of porn here, don't you? Hmmm. Oh, can we watch a romance? Please?” she said, holding up a DVD case.

“Whatever you like,” I said. I settled back on the couch and let out a little groan. “Oh, my back is telling me how much snow I shoveled today.”

She gave me a concerned look and said, “Does it really hurt?”

“No, I'm just a little stiff and tired. I'll probably be okay in the morning.”

“After shoveling snow all day, you're not going to plunk your tired back on that couch. I've seen your bed. There's plenty of room there for both of us.”

“Oh, I couldn't do that,” I said.

“Nonsense. I'm not turning you out of your own bed. Besides, I kind of liked having someone close to me at night. I don't snore, do I? Please? I'll be good.”

The thought of her next to me in my nice, comfortable bed, made me stir. I wished she hadn't promised to be good. “Let's watch the movie,” I said. “I'll see how I feel by bedtime.”

As we watched the movie, we found ourselves shifting our position on the couch so that eventually, she was snuggled against my side, and my arm was wrapped around her shoulder. We were comfortable. During the love scenes in the movie, I was aware of the warm, enticing feel of her body against me.

After the movie ended, I turned to her and said, “You know, there should be enough hot water by now for a shower. Why don't you treat yourself? There's shampoo and conditioner, and I have a hair dryer.”

“You go ahead. You're the one who needs the hot spray on your back and shoulders. If there's still some hot water after you're done, I'll get a shower then,” she said.

I had shampoo in my eyes when I heard the bathroom door open. Then I heard the shower curtain move, and felt a hand on my belly.

“I'll scrub your back,” she murmured. “Maybe there will be enough hot water for you to wash me too.”

“You don't have to do this,” I said.

“I know. Now turn around and let me wash you.”

Her hands felt amazing, scrubbing and kneading the skin and muscles of my shoulders, then my back, and finally my ass.

“Turn around and rinse,” she said.

As soon as I was facing her, she began to work the soap into a lather on my chest. I was already erect, but when she dropped to her knees to wash my cock and balls, I began to leak pre-cum into her hand.

“You're going to wash me next. All of me,” she said.

She stood and grabbed the shampoo. “Would you wash my front while I do my hair?” she asked.

I gently rubbed the soap onto her chest, watching as her nipples hardened with my touch.

“Be sure to lather my nipples really well. And don't forget the rest of me,” she whispered.

When it was time to wash her pussy, I knelt in front of her. She spread her legs slightly to give me better access. Her lips were full, firm, swollen-looking. Her clit was coming erect.

“Oh yes, clean me,” she moaned.

I did, thoroughly. Her breathing became ragged, and I could feel moisture on my fingers that had not come from the shower head.

“Oh God,” she moaned. “I think you'd better wash my back now.” She turned away from me, presenting her beautiful ass to my view.

I slowly washed her shoulders, her back, her sides, and her hips. My hands came to rest on her firm, luscious buttocks.

“Wash my ass really well,” she breathed.

My fingers traced patterns in the soapsuds on her asscheeks. She spread her legs, leaned forward, and said, “Please. Clean me.”

My soapy fingers slipped down to her brown star, and started rubbing it.

“Oh yes, that's nice,” she said in a husky whisper. As I continued to massage her asshole, she started moving her hips forward and back. “More,” she moaned. “More. Clean me inside.”

I pressed my middle finger against her sphincter, and it suddenly relaxed. My finger slipped inside.

“Yesssss!” she hissed. “Oh please, deeper. Add another finger.”

I glanced down at my cock, and saw it twitching with my pulse, a string of pre-cum falling to the shower floor. The feel of her hot, tight ass gripping my fingers was almost enough to push me over the edge.

She leaned front further and handed me the bottle of hair conditioner. “You might need this,” she said. “Spread some on your cock to make it slippery.” Then she bent forward and braced her hands on the tub faucet. “Fuck my ass,” she said. “Hard.”

I did as she asked. The heat, the tightness, the sound of her grunting as I fucked her made me ready to cum in way too short a time. I wanted her to cum too, so I slid my hands around her hips and began rubbing her clit while fingering her tight pussy.

“Make me cum,” she said. “Make me cum hard. Cum in my ass. I need it.” And then she began to scream. Her fluids were running freely down her thighs as her internal muscles clenched both my fingers and my cock. I came, long and hard, jet after steaming jet of my cum shooting deep into her bowel.

We stayed locked together for a time. She was supporting her upper body with her hands on the faucet, and I held her ass crushed against me, trying to regain my senses from the overwhelming orgasm I had just had.

Finally, she said softly, “Thank you.”

“No, thank you!” I said. “You were amazing.”

“The water's getting cooler,” she said.

“I hadn't noticed,” I replied.

“Let's clean up and go to bed.”

“Okay,” I replied, reluctantly allowing my softening cock to fall from her glorious ass.

When we got out of the tub, I realized I hadn't gotten any clothes out for us to wear to bed. As I toweled off, I said, “The hair dryer's in the cupboard below the sink. I'll go and find some clothes for us.”

“Just turn on the electric blanket,” she said. “I don't want to wear anything to sleep with you tonight.”

The bed was getting comfortably warm when she came into the room and crawled under the covers next to me. “I'm not sure that half-freezing to death is the way I would have chosen to get to actually meet you,” she said, “But I'm glad things turned out this way.”

“So am I.” We rolled on our sides to face each other. I was just about to ask her what she was thinking when she moved in to kiss me. There was warmth, a hint of passion, but it was not urgent. Our hands explored each other, but it was more an act of discovery and tenderness than it was actual foreplay.

When we finally broke our kiss, she lay her head on my chest. “I enjoyed our shower,” she said.

“I did too.”

“I want more,” she said, lifting herself onto one elbow to smile at me. Then she kissed me again, hard, her tongue thrusting into my mouth. Her free hand began to move downward across my chest and stomach, and came to rest on my re-awakening penis. “Here,” she said, “let me help you with that.”

She got on her hands and knees, and began kissing her way down from my throat to my belly. Her hand was lightly fondling my cock and balls. Her kisses moved out from my center line to rain down on my hip and then trail down my thigh. She leaned across me to kiss and lick my other thigh, and then gently urged my legs apart. Her tongue traced a line from the top surface of my thigh to the inside, and then crossed to the other leg.

By this time, my cock was as hard as it had been in the shower. This amazing woman was making me want her again, maybe more than I had before.

I felt her lips tugging on the loose skin of my scrotum. Her tongue bathed me, and then she sucked one of my balls into her mouth.

“Oh God,” I moaned.

“It gets better,” she whispered. Her tongue began to move, agonizingly slowly, up the underside of my shaft. She stopped at the little triangle where the bottom of the head of my cock joins the shaft. Using just the tip of her tongue, she flicked back and forth over that super-sensitive skin. Then she licked her way back down to my balls. Each time she came back up the shaft of my penis, she licked the edge of the head, but never actually touched the tip of my cock. I was going wild.

“I want to make you cum,” she said.

“Not without you. Move over so I can lick you too,” I said, helping her to position herself so that her wet pussy was just above my mouth. She smelled fresh and clean, of course, but the overall aroma was delicious sex. I stuck out my tongue and ran it from just in front of her asshole, over her sweet-smelling pussy lips, and then to her clit. Her flavor was intoxicating.

“Oh, please lick me,” she said, just before engulfing my cock with her soft, sucking mouth. As I ate her, she ate me, using her tongue, lips, fingers, even the roof of her mouth to give me pleasure. I was glad I had cum in the shower. This was too damn good to have it end soon.

She seemed to feel the same way. My licking gradually got faster, I hardened my tongue, and worked deeper in between her lips on each pass. Sometimes, I'd lick her clit, sometimes, I'd graze it lightly with my teeth, and every once in a while, I'd suck on it. When she went off, I nearly drowned.

Of course, the taste of her, the sound of her muffled screams, the smell, the feel of her convulsing on my mouth, only added to what her mouth was still doing to me. I eased two fingers into her asshole to try to prolong her orgasm.

That's when I came. She drank every drop, doing every trick in the book to get the last tiny bit of fluid from me, then licking me completely clean, just in case some had leaked out of her mouth. When she was done, she collapsed on top of me, then rolled off me onto her side.

When I was able to raise my head from the pillow, I saw her struggling to prop herself up on one elbow so she could look at me. We stared at each other for a long time, and then she started to grin. Her smile was infectious, and eventually we started to giggle.

“Can you help me turn around?” she said.

“I think so.”

“I hope so. I'm not sure I can do it myself. I really want to have some more fun with you, but I definitely need a breather. Plus, don't you think we're going to get cold if we don't pull the blanket back over us?”

“You're right,” I said. I helped her into a sitting position. Together, we got into a tight little huddle in the middle of the bed, me on my back, her lying partway on my chest with her one leg over me. The warm blanket felt good.

We cuddled for a while. I know she was asleep, and I think I was dozing when the noises of equipment outside woke us.

“What's that?” she said.

“Snowplow.” I got up and looked out the window. “There's other equipment out there too, along with a couple of guys.”

She joined me, our naked bodies touching in the darkened room. “Looks like I might be able to go home tomorrow,” she said.

“Maybe.” I pulled her back to bed. “What do you want to do?” I asked.

“Interesting question. Let me show you, instead of telling you,” she said, applying gentle pressure with the palm of her hand on my chest. “You know, there's something we haven't done.”

“I know,” I said.

She said nothing. Instead, she smiled at me and then straddled my body. At first, she lay on top of me, grinding her tits into my chest and rubbing my well-used cock with her crotch. We kissed as she humped me, and when she felt my meat starting to respond, she parted her legs so her wet pussy lips would massage me. Soon, we knew we were ready. She knelt on either side of my hips, gently stroked my cock with spit-moistened hands, and then aimed me. Taking slow, gentle strokes, she sank onto me until my pelvis supported most of her weight.

“Ahhhh. That's wonderful,” she sighed. She stayed still for a few seconds, and then leaned forward to kiss me again.

“I'm going to make you cum again,” she whispered in my ear. Even though my “walking girl” had always looked fairly casual and perhaps a little aloof, the woman in my bed was the exact opposite. She set to work on making good her promise, earning herself two knuckle-biting orgasms in the process.

When I woke up, there was sunlight shining in my window, made glaringly bright by the snow on this crisp, clear day.

She wasn't in bed. In fact, she wasn't in the house. Her clothes were gone from the drying rack, the furniture was re-arranged to its original position, fresh towels were in the bathroom, and our blankets and used towels were in a pile on the floor in the laundry room.

There was a note on the kitchen table. It said,

“I still don't know how to thank you. No one has ever been so good to me. I had to leave. Maybe I'll see you around. Trust me, it's better this way. I'm sorry.”

There was no signature. There was simply a sketch of a pair of lips puckered into a kiss, enclosed in a heart.

What the fuck?

I didn't even know her name. She didn't know mine. I guess she wanted to remain anonymous. All right, I hadn't expected that, but, well, okay. That was fun. What a strange weekend!

By Monday, the roads were well-cleared, although there were snow piles everywhere. It wasn't hard to drive to work. On my way home, I saw her. I slowed down and waved, and she gave me a little wave and a grin, and kept on walking. Her behavior was just like it had been before it snowed.

Nothing more happened between us. I saw her every day, but we never had any more contact. It had all been a crazy weekend that started with a crisis and ended with great, anonymous sex. In other words, passion between strangers.

As the weather got warmer, she returned to her t-shirts and blue jeans. I spent a lot of time thinking about how great the ass those jeans covered had felt, and how well she used every part of her body. In the fall, her bulkier clothes hid those treasures from view.

It's winter now. The road crews are at it again. They did nothing to maintain the roads all summer, so now they're making a mess preparing for snow removal. Again, the traffic is stop-and-go. Tonight, it's especially bad. My walking girl has passed me several times as I sit here and fume.

I stop at the intersection where I turn into my road and I see her again. She motions for me to roll my window down, and I do.

“They're predicting snow tomorrow. I bet I'll get tired of walking in the cold. Do you have plenty of firewood?” she asks.

Then she licks her lips, winks, and keeps on walking, with a bit more swing in her ass.

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