The Survivor Ch 1

My former life seems like a work of fiction anymore. It was such a nightmare when the FBI showed up at my office at the state capitol and arrested me. The trial followed with all of the horrible charges of corruption. The media were on me like wolves on an injured lamb. My ever-loyal wife of eight years left me and filed for divorce while I was in prison. I never saw her again. Just as well.

I wiped my tears away with the forty-five million dollars I had on deposit in the Cayman Islands.

What crime did I commit to warrant such a lavish bribe, you ask?

Ironically, it was the crime I really did commit. All the while I sat in that courtroom listening to the arguments by the prosecutors and by my own team of attorneys I was silently agonizing over the evidence that would exonerate me of the crimes I was accused of.

"Your Honor!"

I could hear myself saying.

"I did not commit these crimes and I can prove it!"

The judge would bang his gavel to quell the furor I would raise in his court.

"Explain yourself."

"I was five hundred miles away committing an even worse crime at the time I am accused of committing these crimes!"

Oh, sure. I can really picture myself saying this.

So I cut a deal with the Devil and silently accepted the sentence of two years instead of the thirty years I really deserved.

I spent the next two years being the model prisoner at the minimum security honor farm where I kept company with several of my former colleagues from the state legislature and many more of my former business associates. The tennis courts and the pitiful excuse for a golf course were an annoyance, of course, but it was nothing I wasn't man enough to bear. At least the Scotch was palatable. It ended up being an uneventful two years except for when the one burly fellow threatened to rape me. That particular afternoon my bank account decreased by a mere one hundred thousand dollars and the following day the poor man coincidentally suffered a tragic accident while he was on a roadside work crew.

With all of the amazing advances in medical technology these days and a little faith and perseverance on his part, he may someday walk again. I make a point of sending him flowers whenever he has to go in for another round of excruciating and prolonged surgical procedures.

I feel bad about what happened to him. Really.

After all, I had only paid for two broken legs. Paralysis was quoted to me at a quarter of a million bucks. I really feel bad that he got more than I had paid for.

After my two years were up I walked out of prison a free man, my debt to society barely even dented. The waiting limousine whisked me off to a chartered jet and from there to Canada. My attorney, following my detailed instructions, had a nice little place waiting there for me on a remote stretch of Vancouver Islands' northwest coast and I intended to get in a little fishing, catch up on my reading, and enjoy the fruits of my ill-gotten gains. The floatplane from Victoria gave me a wonderful view of the rugged and isolated coast that was to become, in a perverse way, my new prison. Granted, the five million dollars that had been invested in the place provided for a most comfortable and well-stocked prison, but I wanted it to be my prison never the less. It's not that I'm a masochist, and it's not that I'm repentant. Hardly. I simply needed to be away from everyone for a while to clear my thoughts and to plan my next move.

I needed some peace and quiet.

The pilot of the floatplane had followed the coast for almost three hours before he turned right and flew maybe ten miles into a narrow fjord before alighting on the glassy smooth waters. A deft and capable pilot, he killed the engine and stepped out on the float as the craft moved to my brand new pier. At the last second he nimbly danced onto the pier and made fast the moorings. All of my gear, clothing, and supplies had been shipped in long before so all I needed to do was to tip the good man for a comfortable flight and then wave goodbye to the last human being I wanted to see for a very long time.

I luxuriated in my solitude for the next ninety-six days. I found peace and clarity in my fishing, in my reading, in my cooking, and in my occasional target practice at the dead trees across the fjord. I felt myself becoming me again. The spring was back in my step and a song was in my blackened heart. It was the very last day before the first cold weather was to set in and I had decided to take the canoe out to where the fjord became the Pacific Ocean. I'll admit no noble intentions of becoming one with nature and my environment; I just wanted to see what the hell was there.

And that was my mistake.

The air was crisp and the ocean unusually calm as I paddled out beyond the safety of my little inlet. A light mist hung in the afternoon air as the gulls noisily descended on a school of fish nearby. I had set down my paddle to let the canoe just float with the tide back to shore when the gulls burst into the air with a visible and silent alarm. I feared a shark or perhaps a lurking killer whale could be stalking me when I felt a bizarre pressure in the air around me.

In a moment that stretched into a brief eternity I felt my own mortality rush up to greet me and spit in my eye. And then a blur of metal and color impacted the sea maybe twenty yards from my canoe. Like an ass, I sat there perplexed as the wave from the impact nearly capsized me into the lethally frigid waters.

I quickly regained my senses and, wondering what the hell had nearly turned me into crab feed, I paddled over to the impact site. Oddly enough, I found an airline seat cushion floating in the water that now had a sheen from what smelled like hydraulic fluid. I took it aboard for what seemed like a good reason at the time.

A bright spot of red popped up to the surface just a few yards away and I casually paddled over to see what other surprise could be waiting for me. I figured it had to be another seat cushion so my mind had a hard time grasping why a seat cushion would have brown hair? Without even thinking about my actions I hauled up on the red sweater and found myself looking at an ashen faced young lady. Unconsciously, I checked her pulse and, feeling a pathetic little thump under my finger, some lingering sense of my humanity compelled me to pull her aboard and wrap her in the throw I'd had on my lap. The cold water had somehow worked to prevent her from drowning, which was fortunate for her.

I took a cruise around the impact site to see if there were any more surprises and, finding none, I made for home with my catch of the day.

Her breathing was painfully shallow and fitful as I paddled homeward. Having taken charge of her well being I picked up the pace and soon had the canoe fairly slicing the calm waters of the fjord. I decided to skip the pier and ran the handcrafted wood hull onto the rocky beach close to the house. I surprised myself by leaping out and dragging the little boat ashore, cargo and all. It was then a minor detail to pick up my charge and carry her into the warmth of the house.

She was freezing and I was certain that if she wasn't in shock from the cold water, then she was surely in shock from the event that had landed her in the water. I remembered my basic first aid and laid her close to the hearth and elevated her legs on my coffee table. I faced a brief moral dilemma as I wondered what to do about the wet clothes and then settled that by pulling them off as gently as I could after briefly thinking about just cutting them off with my fishing knife. I no sooner had her relieved of the soaking wet fabrics than I had her dried off and bundled up. Tossing a few well-seasoned logs on the fire I soon had her ensconced in a radiant heat.

I simply watched her for the next twelve hours. The sun set and rose again before I moved from my chair. Her breathing was calmer and the color had returned to her face and I figured it was time to check for broken bones. I was being practical because I realized that setting a broken bone would be much easier with an unconscious patient than with a screaming, crying, and flailing patient. I was careful to check her arms and legs and I felt along her spine for any ruptured or slipped discs and, miraculously, I found not one visible fracture. I gingerly lifted my patient and took her to the extra bedroom and set her down on the rustic style bed and drew up the blankets and a quilted comforter over her. Then I went to call for help and remembered having spitefully made sure that there were no transmitters or satellite phones at the house. I had wanted to be isolated and I know realized that there was a flaw to my plan. I did have satellite television for the games and the stocks so I switched it on and shortly heard of a dramatic airline flight between Anchorage and Seattle where a door had blown out of the plane and several people were assumed to be dead. The crew had landed the plane safely despite numerous problems and was being hailed as heroes. Then followed the obligatory film of the anguished families of the dead. I pondered the fact that I was probably looking at the family of my little guest in this voyeuristic piece of reporting. The bad weather, which I had not observed just yet, was supposed to be preventing any search activities. A Royal Canadian Navy spokesman said there was no sense risking lives to go look for dead people and alluded to the fact that any search, if any, would be cursory and brief. His US Coast Guard counterpart said about the same thing, but not as directly.

I checked on my guest rather often as she slept all of the next day. About noon on the third day of her stay with me I was cooking some lunch and my bleary eyed visitor managed to find the kitchen and asked, almost as if she was embarrassed about her predicament,

"Hi, could you tell me where I am?"

Now I must say that my first impression was that she looked absolutely precious in the heavy robe and slippers I has set out for her. And that very thought surprised me as I had thought of myself as quite the bastard when it came to my sensitivities. Frankly, I had planned on telling the girl to get the hell out of my house after she got on her feet. But her tousled brown hair and her helpless and vulnerable appearance managed to bring forth that last shred of humanity I'd hidden away in some dark corner of my soul. I really gave a damn about this life I'd saved from an icy death. What do you know about that?

"Good morning!"

I even smiled. My attorney would have been shocked. Come to think of it, so would my ex-wife.

"Sweetie, you seem to have fell out of your airplane and splashed down about a hundred miles from just about anywhere. I'm glad you made it. Sit down and I'll get you up to speed on who I am and you can fill me in on who you are. Fair enough?"

She politely and even gracefully pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table and slowly replied,

"Yeah, okay...um, yeah, that'll be just great."

I found myself having to look away from her.

"I'm David, what's your name sweetie?"

"Sara."

Sara. Even her name struck me as beautiful. Was I so damn weak that this little girl was getting to me? The lobbyists back at the Capitol would have cut of their nuts to see me like this.

"Well, Sara, it's like this..."

I spent the next hour telling Sara all about how she nearly ended up sleeping with the fishes, and how I nearly ended up there, too. I also had to break it to her that she was stuck with me until the plane came back the next April, almost six months away. She seemed to take it just fine until I explained having seen people on the television crying about all of the people who were assumed to be dead, including Sara. Sara just burst into tears when she realized that her family thought she was dead and she had no way of telling them otherwise. She started to plead with me to take the canoe and get her back to civilization and all I did was gesture out the window and she saw the snow already blowing in from the sea as if to seal her fate. So despite my well laid plans, my confinement would not be solitary.

Over the next month we got to know each other in conversation. I heard all about her recent 20th birthday and the outing to Prince William Sound with her friends, her uncertain major at a junior college, her wonderful family, and her stories of an intense and failed relationship with some jerk who left her for a cheerleader. She had denied him when he had demanded her virginity and then he jumped into bed with the junior-varsity tart. I assured her that she was incredible and that the guy was an asshole for leaving her and I also told her that if it would make her feel better I'd arrange to have him killed. She laughed and thought I was kidding. Okay, sure.

I managed to leave her alone most of the time as she tore through the library and discovered the literature that had been key to my character when I was younger and untainted by the temptations of power. Sara would often discuss the themes of the books with me and she reawakened feelings and thoughts in me that I had almost forgotten about. It was as if she was renewing my lost innocence with her joyful curiosity.

I have to admit that I was falling in love with my young guest.

As jaded as I was, I did feel a pang of guilt over the fact that I was eighteen years her senior and possessed of a lifetime of experience that she could easily fall victim to. I am rather adept at manipulating women to get what I want; yet Sara had me being very careful not to exude my con-artist instincts around her. I was protecting her from me.

All the while I was admiring her charming personality I will also admit to admiring her willowy and beautiful body. Being the handiest female for a hundred miles around, I found Sara to be the center of my fantasies, some of which kept me up late at night. My animal urges I kept well in hand, so to speak, to better tame them. Yet I would still find myself staring at her when she was lounging on the couch by the fireplace or when she was working out in the gym in just her underwear.

It was the Friday after Thanksgiving when I found myself walking by her room after she had been working out and I dared to let myself in. Steam was wafting out of the bathroom as Sara was washing up after her almost Spartan regime. The blood rushed up in my head as I peeked around the corner and saw her in the open shower stall washing her hair. My eyes lingered on her gorgeous body, traveling from her shapely ankles to her perfect ass and then to the side of her pert breast, the angle hiding a better view from me. Her skin was just the most amazing golden hue I had ever seen on a woman and I was transfixed by her beauty and also by my need. I felt my cock rise in my pants and I subconsciously felt it as I looked at her. I shook some rather unsavory thoughts from my mind and quietly retreated from her room so as to maintain the trust I had now secretly violated.

She sensed my guilt when we sat down for dinner and asked what was wrong. I lied and told her how I felt bad about her being trapped with me and she surprised me by telling me that she didn't feel trapped at all, rather, this was like a fine vacation with excellent company.

My heart was in my throat. Did she like me? And if so, how much?

And then, one night after our usual evening by the fire, she kissed me goodnight right on the lips. And then she just zipped off to her room like nothing had happened at all. I about blew my rocks right then and there. As I finally made my way to bed, I found myself by her door, tempted to enter and pursue the feelings in my heart and the urges in my loins. Yet one more time I made it to my own bed without incident.

"Good morning! I made breakfast for you!"

I woke up to the smell of coffee and biscuits and Sara bringing them to me on a tray. I sat up in bed and fairly wolfed down the fresh biscuits while Sara sat at the end of my bed apparently pleased with my appetite.

"The fjord is frozen over, could we go for a walk and see it?"

"Sure thing, sweetie! Let me get dressed and I'll be out to the kitchen in a minute, okay?"

She took the empty tray and headed out for the kitchen while I got my heavy clothes on.

We ended up walking maybe a mile up towards the head of the fjord so Sara could enjoy the winter scenery. We found a sunny spot and sat down for a bit while she just drank in the glory around us. The rumblings of avalanches could be heard from high on up the mountains around us, a few of the loud rumblings got Sara to scoot a little closer to me for security. I didn't complain. On the walk back we talked more about our past relationships and what we both wanted out of the future for ourselves. I cannot place exactly when it happened, but at some point our conversation crossed a line of intimacy and we both realized it. For the rest of the day and into the evening we said very little to each other. I think we were both trying to analyze not just what we said to each other, but what the true feelings behind our words were.

The embers on the fire started to fade and I finally put down my book. Taking my cue, Sara placed the bookmark in her novel and stretched as she stood up.

"I think I'm going to bed, okay David?"

"Yeah, that's a good idea. It's time to turn in, kid."

I swear I couldn't help it. Sara came up and got on her tiptoes to kiss me goodnight, on the lips like before, and I took her in my arms and drew her close and kissed her the way I'd been wanting to kiss her for months. She went limp in my arms as I held her face to mine and ran my fingers through that luxuriantly fine hair. Her lips were so soft and yielding and her skin so amazingly surreal that I just lost hold of myself. I knew what I wanted and I had waited long enough. My eager hands pulled the tie from her robe even as my own robe dropped to the floor. I swept it off of her shoulders and she silently allowed it to join mine in an embrace of their own. Sara felt herself lifted off the floor as I picked her up and carried her to my bedroom.

"I'm not sure I'm ready for this, David," she quietly whispered in my ear as I carried her, "Maybe we should wait?"

My answer was to put her down and take her into my arms again and kiss her with all of the passion I could muster. When I went to kiss her neck and she offered it to me I knew she had surrendered and that I could make my next move. My t-shirt came off in the dark and then my boxers' fell to free my swollen cock. I felt a tremor run through her body when I pressed naked against her and began unbuttoning her pajama top.

Oh, the incarnate joy when I pushed that top off of her creamy shoulders. Like magnets, my hands instantly fell upon the pert breasts that had been the core of many of my fantasies and daydreams these long months. Her skin was ever so silky and her nipples answered my attentions with a pleasing response. I felt the goose bumps run over her virgin body as I drew one of her tender buds into my mouth and teased it with my teeth. I went lower and kissed her firm belly as I wrapped my hands around her waist and the eased her bottoms and panties off in a favorite maneuver of mine from when I was married. The smell of her musk was almost too much to bear. She didn't have the heavy smell of a practiced woman; it was definitely the lighter scent of an untouched maiden, with just the barest hint of the juniper splash she had made for herself. I rose and lifted her into my arms again only to lay her back into the covers of my bed. I felt like a teenager again, I was so eager to be with her. Clumsily, I banged my knee as I got up into the bed and then had to silence Sara's laughter with a renewed assault on her senses.

I lay beside her and had her fully engaged in kissing me as my hands explored her body and my fingers probed her every last inch. Three times I tried to feel her unblemished pussy and each time she shrank back from me, testing my limits of control. Only on the fourth attempt did she allow me to touch the holy of holies, and she was utterly amazed by the result. She gasped as my fingers quickly sought out and found her clit in it's little hiding place and began their task of bringing her to a climax. Sara never said a word as I carried out my task, her body tensed a bit at first, but then settled into a sort of rhythm as her breathing, gentle thrusting of her hips, and flexing of her legs all matched tempo with my ministrations to her tenderness. Our kissing became more intense and my fingers matched that intensity with not just the attention to Sara's clit, but an occasional probe into her virgin pussy. I had two fingers probing up to her hymen when my busy thumb finally succeeded in wringing an orgasm from her lithe little body. I made my strokes to her clit ever more deliberate as the waves of pleasure broke across her maiden body. Everything I knew about extending and increasing a woman's pleasure I applied to my lovely Sara. The wetness flowed out over my hand as I prolonged her pleasure almost to the point of agony. When I could sense the fury of her release subsiding I redoubled my efforts and soon had her almost faint with an even more powerful orgasm that wracked her body with spasms of sheer delight. Wasted and spent, she lay dazed in the bed wallowing in the afterglow of her first carnal pleasure at the hands of a practiced man. I kissed her gently now as I eased myself on top of her limp form and spread her legs out to accept the invasion I could no longer delay. I still managed to be as gentle as I could and I massaged her arms and lifted them over her head all while kissing her as I got my desperate cock into position.