Anastasia's Mountaintop Experience

Anastasia took in the rugged grandeur of the Swiss Alps with wide-eyed amazement as she steered her rental car along the curvy road hugging the mountain's edge. Thoughts of the grey, urban life she left behind were quickly fading in the dazzling sunshine.

Her hectic routine as an in-demand portrait painter had left her stressed, not to mention deprived of a love life. 'I've got to get away from New York,' she'd schemed like an inmate planning a prison-break. Now, her only concern was to find a good place in the mountains to set up her easel and paint a landscape.

She took a deep, cleansing breath of the crisp mountain air gushing through the window. The new vista, the personal freedom, the chance to wear sunglasses – it was all very stimulating. She felt younger. As she rounded a sharp bend halfway up the mountain, she checked herself in the rear-view mirror. Lively azure eyes gazed back from her pretty, olive-toned face. I even look younger! she thought.

A frantic BEEP BEEP BEEP! came from up ahead. Then, several things happened all at once. With a gut-wrenching jolt and a terrible thud-crunch, the car came to a sudden halt. Anastasia swept her dark locks off her face, and waited a moment for her racing heart to calm down. She leaped out into a cloud of smoke, and she blindly felt her way through it until she came to another car. It was totaled. Behind the wheel was a man, his eyes closed and mouth open. 'Oh, my God, what have I done?' she thought.

She opened his car door and tried to revive him by slapping his face repeatedly. "Are you alright? Do you speak English?"

The stranger was undeniably intriguing: he seemed to have the exotic, seasoned charm of Johnny Depp in combination with the well-groomed, elfin quality of Orlando Bloom. He had dark, longish hair and perfect white teeth. He seemed vaguely foreign-looking to Anastasia, but she couldn't quite put her finger on where he might be from.

Much to her relief, the man shook his head and blinked. "I am alive," he said.

"Oh, good, you do speak English."

"Yes. Are you hurt, miss?"

"I'm fine, thank you. I'm so sorry this happened. Here, let me help you out."

She held out her hand to the handsome stranger. He tried to grasp it but his arm hardly moved.

"Ow," he yelped, wincing in pain. "I cannot move this arm. I think my shoulder is dislocated."

"Oh, no! Um, use your other arm, then." With some effort she pulled him away from the wreckage, but as soon as he took one step he winced again and almost fell into her.

"My ankle is broken, I am sure of it. I cannot walk."

"I'll call for help."

Just then she noticed the sky was suddenly overcast. Sleet, whipped up by a cold, blustery wind, stung her face. She tried her cell phone.

"I can't get a signal!" she shouted above the gale. She turned the key in the ignition. All it did was click. "Dammit, everything is useless!" she angrily yelled as she pitched her cell over the side of the mountain.

"The storm is intensifying," said the stranger. "It will only get worse. We cannot stay on this mountain."

"But my car won't start. We're stuck here!"

"We must find shelter quickly. We could die of exposure if we do not."

"Shelter around here? In the middle of nowhere?"

"Yes, I know this terrain well. There are secluded cabins up and down the mountainside. I think I passed one a few minutes ago. We just have to get there."

"But your ankle -- "

"I need you to help me walk. You need me to show the way. It looks like we are in this together." His steely gaze met her look of panic.

"I'll just need to get some essentials."

She peered inside the car at her belongings. What things can I absolutely not do without? she thought. After much consideration, she settled on just the one suitcase, as well as her cosmetics bag, her Louis Vuitton handbag, and the backpack containing her art supplies.

"I am sorry, miss, but you shall have to travel much lighter than that."

She dashed back to her car and dumped everything but the backpack. Her outfit was already soaked through and the temperature had plummeted dramatically. She returned to her stranger.

"OK, which way do we go?" she demanded as she tried to put his arm around her shoulder.

"Ack! That is the injured one."

"I am so sorry. I'll get on your good side." He placed his good arm across her shoulders and she supported him like a crutch.

He pointed with his chin. "This way. I know we can make it."

The two figures could barely be seen in the driving snowstorm as they slowly moved away from the car wreck. The howling wind made Anastasia lose her balance at times, and the stranger patiently held onto her before he resumed hopping.

"I've lost all sense of direction," she shouted. "I can't believe this storm came in so fast!"

"So it is with mountain weather – if you are bored with it, wait a minute and it will change."

They staggered along in silence for a while.

"Y'know, you're really good at limping," she said, trying to make conversation.

"I assure you, miss, women who know me well never describe me as limp."

'He must not have understood me,' she thought. 'What's the story behind this handsome rogue?'

"There it is! I see a cabin!" he said.

"Oh, thank God." Soon they made their way to the door of the ice-encrusted cabin. "I'll knock on the door."

"There is no one here. But it is our only chance for survival. Hand me that brick, please, miss. I will break the glass beside the door and reach around to unlock it."

The stranger took the brick and quickly made a rough hole in the glass, sending little shards tinkling inside.

"What's the matter?" she asked through chattering teeth.

"I cannot reach the lock because my sleeve is caught on something jagged. You must cut me free."

"How?"

"In my left front pocket you will find a Swiss Army knife." Anastasia reached into the pocket of his ski jacket. "The left front pocket of my jeans, I should say."

"Oh!" she gulped.

She hesitated for a long moment before lightly placing her hand on the stranger's hip, with her fingertips poised at the edge of the pocket. Her hand slowly dove down the front of his muscular thigh. It was a tight fit, even though her dainty hand was flat against his body. She was pleasantly surprised by the warmth she encountered. 'It's quite snug in here. This man fills out his jeans so nicely!' she thought. Not locating the knife immediately, she gingerly wiggled her hand to his inner thigh, where it was even warmer. She was very aware of how tantalizingly close her hand was to the source of this masculine heat; how she'd gained access to the centre of this man's potency without even trying; how she felt a little guilty for enjoying this otherwise uncomfortable situation. 'Oh gosh, it's been so long since I --'

"Please hurry, miss. I am in a very awkward position and I cannot move either arm."

"I've got a hold of your tool -- I mean, the knife! Hang on!"

She drew out the pocketknife and proceeded to slice away at his sleeve.

"I am free! Well done, miss. I can reach the deadbolt."

The door swung open and the two staggered inside. Anastasia slammed it shut and stuffed her snow-encrusted coat in the hole in the glass.

"Help me over to the fireplace, please, miss."

"I don't know how to make a fire."

The stranger told her how to get the fire started. Soon some flames sprung up, bathing Anastasia's face in a flattering orange. Most of the cabin remained in flickering half-darkness. The stranger lay on a big bearskin rug before the great stone hearth.

"Hey, why are you unbuttoning your jeans?" demanded Anastasia, feeling alarmed and intrigued at the same time.

"Please help me remove these. They are wet, and I cannot do it myself. Use the knife to widen the leg so that my broken ankle may be freed without disturbing it. Then pull both pant legs."

After a moment's hesitation she did as she was asked. She couldn't help but appraise his hairy – but not too hairy – tree-trunk legs. She very cautiously took off his ski jacket, folded it and placed it under his head. The stranger unbuttoned his shirt and Anastasia removed it as well, being careful not to move his shoulder. The enticing scent of his cologne enveloped her.

"And may I suggest, miss, that you will not get warm, nor will your clothes get dry if you continue to wear them."

"You're right, I am still cold."

She heavily plopped herself down in front of the crackling fire, as if the weight of the situation had built upon her. Tears welled up in her eyes. Words tumbled out as she began to weep bitterly.

"Everything bad that's happened is my fault," she blurted out between sobs. "It was my fault that we crashed. Your horrible injuries were my fault, as well as your shredded designer clothing... and then we had to break into this Swiss chalet ... 'cause of me, of course, who else." Her chest shook as she blubbered on. "Then I threw away my damned phone and I never thought to bring waterproof clothing with me on my outdoor adventure and now I'm marooned with some stranger and no one knows we're here. I'm so, so sorry for everything."

"My name is Leonardo Giovanni Eduardo Gustavo di Monaco. But you may call me Leonardo. There, I am not a stranger anymore."

He tenderly wiped the tears from her cheek. He gazed deeply into her eyes and smiled. He had the smile of an angel.

"I'm Anastasia," she said dreamily.

"Anastasia. Such a beautiful name." He pronounced it "an-nah-STAHZ-ee-ah."

'His foreign accent is such a turn-on. Be strong, Anastasia,' she warned herself. She began to peel off her damp sweater. She gave him a sharp look and he respectfully watched the fire as she undressed.

"The damage to this chalet is no matter. Not to sound boastful, but I am a man of means. My father is the Duke of Tuscany and I am the heir to his fortune and vineyards. I am here in Switzerland as a ski instructor. Skiing is simply a hobby, as is flying fighter jets, but dancing the tango is my passion. On the weekends I fly to Milan for my gig as an underwear model. I am fluent in many tongues and I socialize with the beautiful elite of Europe. We throw decadent parties at my elegant seaside villa where we slather my own brand of olive oil on each other's bronzed, naked bodies while frolicking on my private beach."

"You won't be tangoing any time soon, unfortunately." She sat down next to him on the bearskin rug. There was plenty of room for two. "Leonardo, even though I just met you, I feel as if I've known you forever. It's like there's a cosmic bond between us. I've come to trust you wholeheartedly."

He stared up at her face. "The flames do something magical to your eyes," he said.

She gazed into his eyes. A deep longing stirred within her. Her face got closer and closer to his. Her lips parted slightly. He looked down at them in anticipation.

"Y'know, the light in here is terrific! I just have to sketch you. Don't move!" She scampered to the corner of the room and pulled a sketchbook and charcoal from her backpack. When she turned back towards him she took a sharp breath in surprise. A magnificently chiseled, flame-lit Adonis lay before her, wearing nothing but a little smirk.

"How would you like me?" he asked.

"I'd like you to turn around. Face the fire, please," she said, her voice trembling.

"But Anastasia, I am facing the only source of heat in this cabin that I care about right now." She felt a flutter well below her belly button. "But," he continued, "if you want to get my good side, so be it."

She sat down cross-legged on the cold hardwood floor and began to render her hunky subject on the page. Biting her lip in concentration, she attempted to do justice to his nice tight ass. She shivered. It was chilly away from the fire, more so since she was wearing only her bra and sheer panties. 'It must be much warmer where Leonardo is,' she thought.

"No, this simply won't do." She laid down her sketchbook and knelt down beside Leonardo. "I've got to pose you." She took hold of his muscular leg and gently bent it at the knee. His gaze locked with hers, and, in one fluid move, he embraced her and rolled her towards the fire, onto her back. She found herself sandwiched between the bearskin rug and Leonardo, his folded ski jacket under her head.

"We must huddle together for warmth," said Leonardo.

"I believe I see the wisdom in that, Leonardo," she said coyly.

"We will not be rescued tonight. I want to savour every moment until morning."

Never breaking eye contact, he gently nipped her upper lip repeatedly, as lightly as a butterfly alights upon a daisy. Her pulse quickened. Impatient with his teasing, she grasped his head and mashed his lovely mouth into hers. His fresh, soft lips and passionate tongue caressed her in a sensual embrace. Her tongue eagerly searched out his – they danced together, their souls becoming one. With a sonorous kiss he broke free, his lips gliding south, planting a thicket of kisses everywhere upon her gorgeous, flame-lit skin.

"Oh, Anastasia," he murmured. "You are a true work of art."

Anastasia drew up her knees and dropped one thigh to the side. She could feel his hot breath caressing her pelvis. A large, manly hand supported her other thigh. He placed a tender, lingering kiss in the little valley below her hip, and as he did so, delicately pulled the crotch of her panties aside. He kissed all around her sex with quick, succulent smacks. Over and over again, his sultry mouth approached, then retreated from her nub. The way he teased her was maddening.

Just when she'd given up hope of ever getting it, he gave it to her: his lips and tongue merged with her love temple, enveloping her in inexpressible, moist warmth. Leonardo lusciously licked the length of her lady-business, lustily lavishing her lady-lips with liquid love. She soon gave in to the narcotic bliss, as if allowing a swift river current to carry her away. She didn't mind the slight prickle on her inner thighs from his 5 o'clock shadow. She didn't care that this stranger had so easily licked her senseless. His two fingers stroked just the right area firmly, rhythmically, as if beckoning her towards a new level of pleasure. 'I never got this from the art school boys!' she thought.

"Your essence is provocative and heavenly."

"Don't talk – ohhh - with your – *gasp* – mouth full."

His tongue relentlessly danced and swirled around her swollen jewel. "Aaaaaahhhhhh," she half-sighed, half-groaned. When she came, it was as if all of nature held its breath in silence. Nothing else mattered but the ecstatic release flowing through her. Her body, possessed of its own will, flattened her spine and spasmically thrust her pelvis into his face. Though she bucked, he stayed with her, trapping her between his ardent tongue and merciless fingers.

"Oh, fuck, Leonardo!"

Her chest heaved like bellows as she gradually regained control of her breath. Leonardo's lovely face reappeared as he lay down alongside her.

"You weren't kidding when you said you were fluent," she breathed.

"You are glowing," he said.

The lovers fell asleep, their exhausted bodies entwined, her head nestled under his chin.

***

A sudden, loud noise roused Anastasia. She slowly opened her eyes. Had last night been a dream? She saw sunlight pouring through the window. The storm had blown itself out.

Leonardo woke quickly and stretched his body. "Ugh, I am so stiff!" he groaned.

"Mmm, I can imagine," she said with an eyebrow raised flirtatiously.

"No, really, I will need a good massage after sleeping on this floor."

Again, loud pounding came from the door.

"Oh, Leonardo, we're saved – just as you promised! I just know everything will be fine from now on!"

"I want us to be together forever, Anastasia. My decadent life is empty without you."

"Oh, Leonardo, I will be by your side so that when you've healed you can show me how to tango."

He smiled his angelic smile. "We shall frolic under the sun and tango by the light of the moon. But first, we had better get some clothes on so we can be rescued in dignity."

Anastasia felt joy in her heart, for she knew she was born to be Leonardo's permanent tango partner.

THE END