Outside, the soft hiss of falling snow is the only sound. Shadows cast from the cabin windows dance in sprightly cadence to the rhythm of light from a crackling fireplace.
Within the protective walls, the sizzling logs warm the room and surround the two of us with cozy cheer. Nestled deep in my arms, your head cradled between my neck and shoulder, we share a warmth not generated by the burning wood, but by the mutual awareness of each other.
Holding you closely, tenderly, I am content in the simple pleasure of your touch. The soft scent of your perfume tantalizes me, as I let my lips brush lightly over your hair.
I feel the gentle pressure of your breasts against me as you breathe, and the muffled beat of your heart binds my life to the life within you.
The soft rhythm of your sleepy breathing seems totally out of character with that of the gasping, breathless, passionate woman I held only a short time ago. My thoughts drift pleasantly back over the hours we have been here, and I find myself once again becoming aroused. Soon you will awaken and this time will be gentle and loving, soft and slow in contrast to the fury with which we took each other last...
When I suggested we take a drive up through the mountains, I really just wanted to get out of the city and away from people. The crisp, fresh air and stark beauty of snow capped peaks always clears my mind and leaves me feeling vibrantly alive. Having an attractive female in close proximity enhanced the effect.
Maybe if I had not been so high on life, I would have seen the first hint of the rock slide and we would not be stranded now. Maybe someone would have come along soon, and we could have gotten a ride back into town ahead of the storm. Maybe a lot of things would or would not have happened, but I am not one to sit and hope for rescue on a back road with the winter wind smelling of snow and night only a couple of hours away.
You didn't argue my decision at all. I've lived out here too long not to know how slight the odds were if we bet on getting help before the snow began. We probably wouldn't make the 10 miles back into town either, but at least we might be far enough down the mountain to avoid the worst of the storm. Watching the shift and sway of your body as you moved downhill had made me acutely aware of a ripeness which could not be disguised by the heavy clothes.
In fact, I was having trouble suppressing visions of making love under the open starlight, when the storm issued it's first announcement. A brief flurry of heavy flakes swirled around us as the wind sighed through the needled treetops.
Somehow you spotted the vague silhouette of this place against the darkening grey of the sky and without hesitation started out across the hillside. I held little hope it would be much more than a shack, but at least it offered some protection from the snow and wind.
When I reached the small porch, you had opened the door and were peering into the gloomy interior. The dimming twilight gave only a hint of the twinkle in your eyes, but the mischievous smile of your mouth teased me unmercifully.
Hanging on a nail just inside the door was a kerosene lantern. In a few seconds, the flickering flame was causing shadows to grow and shrink as we entered the single room of the structure. With the door shut, the sound of the wind was barely detectable, the log walls furnishing a natural insulation.
A stone fireplace formed an entire end of the cabin, and was flanked by a rack full of firewood. A small sign tacked on the wood announced this was the property of "Jim Bridger" and further declared, "If you are here to destroy, there is nothing I can do to stop you. If you seek shelter, be welcome. You will find food enough for 3 days if necessary. Please replace what you use."
