Pickle Face And The Professor

Author's note: Just a slow-burn post-Christmas romp. Contains elements of mild consensual non-consent.

~~~~

The cabin looked bigger on the web site, but how much space did a guy need for a week alone? Ken dropped his duffel bag on the floor, surveying the cramped space. He left the door open a crack for the winter air to clear out the musty smell.

Though tiny and basic, the cabin walls and ceiling were varnished knotty-pine boards that glowed with golden warmth. The sitting area in the rear had an electric fake fireplace and overstuffed recliner. Sliding glass doors opened onto a narrow balcony that looked down to the expanse of the frozen lake.

Other than the wind creaking the tall pine tree outside, the world was silent: no traffic, sirens, or voices—just sporadic calling of crows. Ken closed his eyes, enjoying the peace.

It was December 27. Ken had until New Year's Day to enjoy the solitude before the two-hour drive back to the city and his wreck of a life. He was determined to force himself to do nothing but doze, read trashy thrillers and walk the shores of the frozen lake if he found the energy. Ken rarely had energy lately, though it was spiritual and not because he was approaching forty.

His cabin was the last in a row of others sitting atop a slope overlooking a wide lake. The other cabins were empty, including the "executive chalet" that sat like a palace in the middle of the lesser cabins. A strip of gravel parking lot separated the cabins from the dense forest and a narrow lane led into the trees, eventually connecting to the crumbling rural highway beyond.

From outside came the crunch of tires on gravel. A small car emerged from the lane.

Ken felt his heart sink and temper rise.

Just great. The owner swore the other cabins would be empty all week, he thought.

He took a breath. Okay. Maybe it was the owner checking up, making sure he had everything.

Not likely. The car was tiny: cherry red with white racing stripes and a streamlined ski box on the roof. No one used to rural roads would drive that in winter on a road so far from everything. Even driving an SUV, Ken had struggled a few times on the winding, snow-packed roads.

The car parked in front of the executive chalet. A woman unfolded herself from the driver's side and, facing the car, stretched then began unlocking the ski box on the roof.

She was alone, but Ken had little doubt someone would be joining her—probably more than one, given the size of that chalet and what it cost to rent. His mood darkened, thinking of the loud music and drunken whooping when more people arrived. Fortunately, one cabin sat between his and hers. That would muffle some of the hoopla, and maybe they weren't staying long.

With a sigh, he stepped back outside to greet the new neighbor—and to set a few ground rules.

As he approached, Ken saw the woman was tall. Her tight yoga pants presented an exquisite ass and thick toned thighs. Honey-blonde hair fell in enchanting waves down the back of her clinging turtleneck top.

He called out a greeting and she turned.

His thriller novels might describe her as 'a cathedral of a woman'—towering and beautifully architected. With wide shoulders, large high breasts and a narrow waist, she even had blue eyes.

Ken began to speak, but faltered when he saw her face. Her down-turned mouth, squinty eyes and arched, furrowed eyebrows made her look like she had just smelled something foul.

"Uh, hello," he said. "Looks like we're going to be neighbors. I'm Ken. I'm staying in cabin one."

Weakly, he gestured behind him while scrutinizing her face. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties, but that scowl added years.

"Nice to meet you," she said, her face softening. "I'm Allison. But call me Allie, okay?"

Ken realized that what seemed like an annoyed glower was her natural neutral expression—it was simply how her face went.

"Staying here long?" he asked. "I'm booked right through to New Year's Day."

"Me too. We got a last second deal on the chalet and since this is the only time I can take an entire week off, we booked it."

"I see. Are many others coming?"

"My boyfriend's coming soon."

Ken sighed. "The owner assured me none of the other cabins were rented this week."

"He told us the same thing. We were supposed to be alone."

She studied him, pursing her lips and furrowing her brow. Ken thought that made her look especially foul.

"Hey, are you..." Her eyes widened then narrowed. In a falling tone she said, "Ohmygod. You're Kenneth Henry Hellenberg."

He flashed a tight smile. "You know me?"

"You look different without your glasses and the famous cardigan. I, uh, follow you on social media."

"Do you. Well, thank you for that. Are you into cryptocurrency too?"

"Crypto and all types of investments," she said. "And I was at the Melrose conference. About a year and a half ago? Actually, we talked a little after your keynote."

She grimaced. Ken thought if he could capture her expression at that moment, it would make a million-selling Halloween mask.

"In fact," she said, "maybe you remember... we had a little argument."

Ken searched his memory, but he presented at so many conferences. They blended together. After every talk, some audience members would trap him at the foot of the stage to slather praise, press him for more advice or, too often, argue and promote their pet theories.

He vaguely recalled a heated debate with a woman who was tall, astute, and had a profound pickle-sucking expression. Her blonde hair was short with neon blue highlights, though.

"Ah, he said. "I think I remember you. You had short hair then, right? You took me to task over my assertions about smart contracts."

Allie nodded. "Yeah. You were way too dismissive about reentrancy attacks."

"Nonsense. I urged suitable caution."

"You said it wasn't an issue at all! When I called you on it, with examples, you completely dismissed me then called me a deluded twit." Her scowl deepened unpleasantly.

Ken frowned. "Did I? Well, sometimes I forget my manners when debating. But... oh, I remember. Then you called me an 'arrogant know-it-all' or something."

"I think it was 'pretentious myopic windbag'."

"Ah, yes," Ken said, nodding. "How very delightful of you."

Allie's mouth became a thin line. "I really wanted to call you an arrogant asshole. You were incredibly rude. And not just to me—you were rude to everyone who wanted to talk to you."

"Is that so? I recall you being remarkably crass yourself, shoving your way through the crowd, interrupting someone else who was talking, rattling off a bunch of facts and half-baked ideas. Quite frankly, it's ill-mannered people like you who make me want to stop going to those conferences."

"Yeah? Well, it's self-centered, self-appointed experts like you who make me want to stay home! I never understand why crypto attracts so many egotistical, misogynist pricks."

"You think I was rude because you're a woman? That's a highly sexist assumption."

"Okay, then maybe it was because you're just a self-centered

asshole.

"

Ken reddened. "And you, lady, are an entitled, ignorant, lemon-sucking bitch!"

He fumed. She glared. A Halloween mask of her expression would sell

billions

, Ken thought.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know I was here," he said. "I'll leave you to be bitchy with your boyfriend."

"Great," she said. "I'll leave you to be with the person you admire most—

yourself!"

Allie turned her back to him and again fiddled with the ski box.

~~~~

Back inside his cabin, Ken was thankful for the distance from the chalet—less chance of ever seeing that Amazonian gargoyle.

In the kitchen, he began moving mountains of Christmas leftovers from a cooler his sister had packed into the fridge. She insisted her family couldn't eat it all, but Ken knew she worried without it he would eat nothing but instant noodles during his week alone. She was right.

As his temper cooled, he felt his cheeks burn thinking how rude he'd been. But she was rude too!

With that attitude and that face, it's a wonder she has a boyfriend, he thought, then immediately felt bad for thinking it.

He tried to not let being a so-called "cryptocurrency expert" go to his head, but sometimes, he knew, he did act like a know-it-all. For the hundredth time, he swore to keep his ego and his temper in check. He needed to find some way to make amends to her.

He went to his car to fetch something from the trunk.

~~~~

After he unpacked everything, Ken plopped into the sitting area recliner with a glass of scotch in one hand and a trashy thriller in the other. Starting a classical playlist on a portable speaker, he pressed the remote for the fake fireplace and sipped, watching the simulated flames wiggle. For one week he didn't have to think about writing a new book, recording podcasts, or applying to speak at conferences. He didn't have to think about giving it all up and finding a new way to make a living.

As the fireplace warmed the room and the scotch warmed his insides, he gazed out of the patio doors to the expanse of the snowy lake and the forest lining the opposite shore. Daylight was fading, turning the trees dark and the snow a deep blue and gray.

Someone was out there. Just coming into view, Ken saw a lone figure striding over the snowy lake toward the cabins: a cross-country skier. He stood to get a better look.

Allison. She must have headed out while he unpacked.

She strode easily through the powdery snow using the classic style: reaching with one ski and the opposite pole while kicking with the trailing ski. Her graceful rhythm made it look easy. He remembered trying it as a kid and never getting the hang of it.

Reaching the shore below the cabins, she popped off the skis, slung them over her shoulder and trudged up the slope. When she noticed Ken, her natural sour expression deepened to a peevish scowl. But she waved and flashed a tight smile before continuing to her chalet.

~~~~

Thirty minutes later, Ken's peace and the soothing tones of Chopin's Nocturnes were shattered by thumping music blasting from the chalet, the screeching and throbbing booms pounding his cabin's thin walls.

Her boyfriend must have arrived

, Ken thought as he stomped to the chalet. But only Allie's car was parked in front.

She answered her door wearing a thigh-length fuzzy gray bathrobe trimmed with fake white fur. Her golden hair was damp. She pulled the robe's loose hood over her head, revealing its long floppy ears. Ken couldn't decide if the ears were supposed to be bunny, donkey or wolf.

She had turned the music down when Ken banged on her door, but it still rang and boomed.

"What?" she said, glowering.

"That fucking music," Ken said. "Will you turn it down?"

"You can hear it?"

He pointed to the speakers mounted under the chalet's eaves. "I probably couldn't if you turned off the outside speakers."

Allie looked up and gasped. "Oh, I'm sorry! I had no idea. I just synced my phone with the stereo system and it started playing. Uh, hang on while I see how to turn those off."

Leaving Ken at the door, she ran inside. Her bare legs peeking from under her robe looked smooth, long and toned.

The music stopped, then started at a much lower volume, then with a crack, the outside speakers turned off.

Allie returned. "Did that do it?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"I'm really sorry about that," she said. "Hey, about what I said earlier—"

"Save it," said Ken, testily. "Just keep the noise down and I won't bother you again."

~~~~

He must have dozed off. His novel had fallen to the floor and his playlist had ended.

The sitting area was blazing hot.

Turning the fireplace down, Ken opened the patio doors to let in cool air and stepped outside to cool off. He leaned over the rail, looking at the tapestry of stars above and towering pines swaying in a gathering wind.

High above, flashing lights of an airliner drifted across the night. Ken wondered where it had departed from and where it was going. Maybe a passenger up there was looking down, wondering if anyone below was looking up.

Brilliant light streamed across the snow from the rear of Allie's chalet. He heard her patio door slide open and, though partially shielded by the grid of a trellis at the end of her deck, Ken saw her emerge.

He backed close to the wall to stay in shadow. Allie wore the same light-grey bathrobe and had a large white towel in one hand. She dropped the towel onto a deck chair then turned and bent and a foamy whoosh reached Ken from across the distance. From the web site, he recalled the chalet had a little hot tub on the rear deck. His cabin only had a flimsy plastic shower stall.

Allie dropped the bathrobe, revealing her breathtaking naked form. Even with the distance and the trellis between them, he could see she had lovely breasts, shapely and larger than average, and a perfect figure with a narrow waist and flaring hips.

Ken looked away. He had already embarrassed himself by being such an asshole with her. Invading her privacy would only deepen his disappointment in himself.

Sneaking back inside, he carefully slid the patio door shut and returned to the recliner and his book. But that glimpse of Allie's naked body was too distracting. Many tall women were thin or massive but to him, Allie was perfect!

He couldn't get the image of her out of his mind. It had been too long since he had been with anyone. After re-reading the same paragraph four times, he gave up and went to bed.

~~~~

Ken lay restless in the too-soft bed, listening to the wind. It had built all night, howling and whistling while he lay distracted by the sound, by his horniness and how his vacation had become as derailed as his life.

He tried loading a weather report on his phone, but there was only one bar of signal. Calls probably worked, but data was next to useless. He thought he should feel lucky the area had service at all, being so far from everything.

Hours later, Ken fell into a dreamless slumber while the wind raged.

~~~~

In the morning, the wind had died to sporadic gusts. The cabin was cold and when Ken checked the thermostat, he discovered the electricity was out. Grumbling, he checked his phone for an outage report, but 'No Service' stood in stark letters at the top of the screen.

There was a knock.

"Mr. Hellenberg? Ken? Are you awake?"

Outside, Allie stood in a short ski jacket, shifting anxiously from foot to foot.

"Uh, hi," Ken said. "Is your power out too?"

"Yeah, but you'd better come look at this."

Ken pulled on a coat and followed Allie to where the lane entered the forest. Far up at the bend, toppled pines and fir crisscrossed the lane—some flat on the ground, others leaning on top. It would take a chainsaw and tractor to clear them away.

"I saw it from my window, " Allie said. Fear danced in her eyes.

"Is your boyfriend here?"

"Not yet. I'd better call him. He won't be able to get his car past that mess, but he's sturdy. He can climb through it."

Allie pulled out her phone then blanched when she saw the no service indicator. She held her phone high and turned, hunting for a signal.

"Cell service here probably goes out a lot too," Ken said. "It'll be back soon." He looked at the trees in the forest wobbling in the gusting wind then at Allie. "Do you need anything? Have enough food?"

"I have plenty. You?"

"Way too much. How about cooking? My range is electric, but there's a propane barbecue on my balcony I guess I can use."

"My stove is gas. And there's a barbecue in back, too."

"Then we're okay. We'll call the owner when we can. They must get downed trees out here all the time. Maybe we'll even get a discount out of this."

Allie nodded, still looking worried.

A large gust buffeted them, whipping snow into the air. The trees rocked and in the forest they saw one thin tree topple like a drunken lover into the limbs of another. From behind came a crack and a squeaky splintering. They turned to watch a moss-hung granddad of a tree fall in a graceful arc and crush Ken's cabin.

"Well," Ken said with a sigh, "hope this doesn't mean I'll lose my damage deposit."

~~~~

Ken wormed back out through a ragged gap in his cabin wall. He had already worked his way inside twice to salvage clothes and food.

Getting to his feet, he brushed himself off and said, "There. I saved the most important thing." He raised a bottle of scotch high.

"Are you insane?" Allie screeched. "I thought you were getting your wallet or medicine or something important!" She eyed the weathered tree that loomed over them, held up only by the dented cabin wall and remains of the roof.

"Well, do

you

have any scotch?" Ken asked.

"Hate the stuff. I've got wine and some Irish cream."

"Then this

is

important."

Allie growled in exasperation then told him she had found the cabin's main breaker and shut it off.

"At least the place won't catch fire when the power comes back," she said. "Now, let's get your stuff over to my place and get you settled in one of the spare rooms."

Ken thought he'd rather sleep in his car.

"I'm not going to intrude on your holiday with your boyfriend. I can probably jimmy one of the other cabins open and leave you in peace. The owner could hardly complain."

"And freeze? You said your heat's electric. So the other cabins will be too, right? I have a huge fireplace and lots of wood. And the place is enormous. We can keep our distance and not snarl at each other too much, can't we?"

Ken wasn't sure about that, but said, "Okay. But only until the power comes back on."

~~~~

Allie gave him the grand tour. The ground floor of the chalet was open plan: kitchen, living room and dining area all exposed. Everywhere was gleaming varnished wood, right to the peaked ceiling and exposed beams.

A couch and opulent recliners circled an immense stone fireplace. Niches on both sides were filled with firewood and a white fake-fur rug lay spread in front of the hearth.

Allie tossed on a fresh log and paused to warm herself in the flickering heat.

The rear of the chalet was a floor-to-ceiling wall of glass giving a spectacular view of the lake. Outside, a wood deck spanned the entire width with the small soft-sided hot tub squatting on one side, protected by an insulated cover.

Upstairs, Allie offered Ken his pick of the spare bedrooms. He chose one furthest from hers and dropped his bag onto the bed.

She showed him the shared bathroom then the master bedroom she was using. Dormer windows overlooked the lake and Ken noted the king-size bed.

In the kitchen, Allie filled a kettle and ignited a burner on the stove. She also started the oven heating.

"There're two giant propane tanks outside, so we're probably not going to run out," she said.

Every kitchen appliance was top-of-the-line, and the cupboards held bowls, measuring cups and everything else any cook could want. When Allie opened a drawer, he spotted a melon baller and garlic press.

They unpacked Ken's cooler, putting his food in the fridge on an empty shelf to keep it separate from hers.

Ken said, "If we collect ice from outside, it should keep the fridge cold enough."

Allie nodded. "And we could fill containers with water and leave them out overnight. There are plenty of small storage containers to use."

"That's a good idea, Allie. I'll fill some and set them on the deck."

"No, I'll do it," she said, curtly.

~~~~

Ken went to his room to read while Allie stayed downstairs by the fire. He didn't unpack, hoping his stay would be short.

When he closed his door, the room cooled quickly. With it open all the way, heat from the fireplace downstairs kept the room comfortable, though still slightly cool.