The temperature fell below freezing that first night, but it didn't snow. That was good. It allowed Linda to finish her work the next day by 2pm and spend a little more time making the cabin her own. By the end of the week she had the route down cold. All the better, because the first real snowstorm of the year began on Saturday, and it was dark when she got back from her testing. Tired, but looking forward to a bath, she unhooked the enormous galvanized basin from the wall and began filling it up with water from the pump at the sink. Once the weather turned really cold the pump would no doubt freeze, but it poured forth a steady stream of water and soon there was a good 4 inches of water in the 5 foot long basin. Linda would supplement this with hot water from the stove, a process that would take the better part of an hour, just enough time to cook a decent meal and clean up.
Later that night, Linda luxuriated in her first bath in nearly a week. A little bath oil added an extra measure of enjoyment. Linda had clean hair, clean skin, clean everything, and it felt great.
Another week went by quickly, then a second, then weeks lost meaning as a measurement of time. Linda's focus became her work and getting around without getting lost in the vast wilderness. Snow was deep in the woods now, and getting deeper. Cross-country skis were the only way to get around.
Twice Linda was wakened by the sound of wolves howling in the distance. She knew they were around, she'd seen their tracks, but seeing tracks in the daylight is not the same as being woken by howls in the night. And even though Linda had no fear of wolves, the sound of howling wolves was a bit unsettling.
One day when Linda returned from her work she saw a plume of smoke coming from her cabin. Usually at this time of day a bare wisp of smoke was all that remained of her morning fire--if anything. She opened the cabin door cautiously, sniffing at an unfamiliar, though delightful cooking smell that enveloped her.
"Happy Thanksgiving! Hi, I'm Cole"
Linda blinked, stammered a hello of sorts to the smiling stranger, then sat down on a chair to compose herself.
"I'm sorry if I scared you. I meant to stop by a dozen times and introduce myself, but I was so far behind in my work that I was afraid to take an hour off. I managed to score a turkey from the Park Ranger's wife three days ago when I went back for a consultation, so I thought it would be neighborly to share. I'm working on some dressing, too, but I don't know how it's going to turn out."
Linda just shook her head in amazement, removing her snow boots and jacket.
"I hardly know what to say. That's very nice of you to share, and I'm glad to meet you, I just...well, you don't come home everyday to find a stranger cooking dinner in your house."
"Out here, anything can happen. Maybe you should put a lock on that door, though. Most bears sleep through the Winter here, but every now and then one wakes up and starts sniffing around. They can do some serious damage."
"I'll do that."
Linda picked up a peeler and began peeling potatos, partly out of nervousness, partly out of wanting something to do, and partly out of desire to get a better look at this unusual stranger. While chatting with Cole about life in the forest, Linda stole some quick searching glances to better assess him. He was lean, and looked a bit like a Daniel Day Lewis with light brown hair, a beard and blue--no green eyes. No telling what he looked like under that beard. Linda didn't like beards much, but most men this far north had beards in the winter. Besides, there seemed to be a scar on Cole's right cheek. Maybe he was covering something."
"Oh! I forgot. I've got some wine. Here....Have a glass. It's left over from a Summer hiker, but it may not be bad"
Linda accepted the glass and drank some. Good or bad, it still produced a wonderful warming feeling in her, not having had a drink for two months.
"I should set the table. What else can I do?"
"Nothing. I only have to open a can of cranberry sauce and make the gravy. This is an improvised oven, so I can't make any claims for the turkey, but..."
"I'm sure it will be fine," Linda said. "You must have gotten here at noon to do everything. Thanks very much. I made my own calendar and totally forgot about Thanksgiving."
It was a memorable meal. Any decent diner could serve up something as least at good, but this wasn't a diner. Afterwards, when the washing up was done, they savored instant coffee in front of the stove, shared a few laughs and secrets and fell asleep from the effects of the wine and warmth in the cabin. Cole woke first, sometime after midnight when the fire was dying, and mumbled a few words of parting as he gathered his things. Linda said he could sleep on the floor, but Cole had other plans for the morning: a bird count at dawn.
"Going anywhere for Christmas?"
"Christmas? No...I'll be here."
"How about I stop by Christmas Eve day?"
"Sounds great," Linda replied sleepily. "I'll cook this time."
"Lovely. Look forward to it. Now go back to sleep."
Linda was busier than ever now, analyzing chart patterns and test readings from the first two months. The memory of that evening with Cole faded a little with the days and because of the pleasant wine fog she'd been in. Still, Linda kept thinking about him. Their friendship had been very natural, and he'd hardly done or said a thing to irritate her, something that was definitely out of the ordinary. Most men did bunches of things to irritate her.
She thought about dropping by to say "Hello" herself, but never seemed to think of it at the right time. Come Saturday night, bath night, she felt like a school girl out of control. She actually made her bed with real sheets and quilts, put on real pajamas instead of long underwear, and dabbed a little perfume on before crawling into bed. Beneath the covers, she gave in to the inevitable. Breathlessly, slowly, she began to touch and caress herself, acting as her own lover. The pajama top which had been buttoned only minutes before, now was opened one button at a time. Linda gave herself fingertip caresses above her breasts, up and down her neck and down her sides. Her fingers insinuated themselves in her hair, twisting lightly and massaging the scalp.
Up...down....up. The fingertips of one hand, then two, trailed down into the valley between her awakening breasts and stroked lightly. Linda's hands cupped her heaving breasts from below lightly, lifting, squeezing ever so softly, then drifting higher where her budding nipples fell naturally between thumb and forefinger. She stretched to the end of her toes and sighed deeply. Not having even thought about sex--let alone masturbate--for weeks made her more than ready. Pulsing sensations and a growing warmth in the core of her sexual being accompanied her gentle touches.
Quiet little sighs escaped her lips. Her breasts seemed to lift on their own to meet the next touch of her nipples. Her body undulated like a wave in slow motion. And as great as it felt, it was going to get better. Linda's hand dropped lower, caressing her stomach. A second hand joined the first, making long strokes from the top of her pajama bottom up across her stomach and breast to her neck, then back down...slowly...the way it came.
Minutes passed while Linda prolonged the delicious exercise. She imagined a lover behind her cupping her breasts; kissing her neck and ears, letting his hands slide slowly into her pajamas. Almost as if in a trance, she untied the drawstring waist to give him free access, then pushed her breasts upward in greeting. He was almost there...and he almost looked like....Cole. He definitely looked like Cole!
But it was someone else. A lover no one knew, and now his fingertips were working there way into her pubic hair, pulling delicately, curling hairs lightly, lightly, lightly around his fingers. Both hands caressed her, and five fingers from each hand felt every millimeter of the soft, swelling mound. Linda arched her back and spread her legs to give this special man more room to touch her; more room to give her pleasure. She lifted her rear to slide the bottom half of her pajamas down, but of course it was his hands that actually did it, his fingers that tickled her pubic hair as they unbuttoned each button.
It was almost too much to bear. Linda groaned as fingers began gently massaging the sides of her vaginal lips, slowly, firmly, up and down, down and up, never actually touching her labia or clitoris, but teasing the area around them. She was getting wetter by the minute, now, wetter with each stroke of his hand along her sex. And when she started to feel the first stages of a warm rhythmic pulsing the hands moved lower to caress her sensitive inner thighs. They were his hands, too. With eyes closed and body alternately breathing deeply and not breathing at all, Linda raised her body to allow those loving hands to embrace her more easily, to give her more pleasure.
And they did. With a few more strokes of her inner thighs the hands moved up again to massage her tingling mound. A fingertip parted her pubic hair and stroked the length of her pink and parted lips. Linda moaned and sighed and lifted herself to get closer to this pleasuring hand, but it moved higher, too. A second hand joined the first, massaging her venus delicately but firmly.
One finger on each side stroked the area around her clitoris causing more sighs and moans, then one finger, a long middle finger, slowly entered her warm and willing vagina while it's partners danced around her most sensitive opening and the thumb zeroed in on Linda's pulsing clitoris. Around and around it went, happily circling and teasing the little pink bud that had now become the center of Linda's universe. Linda was more than wet, more than willing to give in to the slippery sensations that were making her stomach rise and falldocudelight. Around and around, and OH! it felt so good.
The thumb retreated, only to be replaced by two fingers now. The index fingers of each divine hand pressed rhythmically on each side of her throbbing clit, gently, firmly urging her to a higher plane. Linda was moaning more than breathing now, and loud sounds she hadn't heard before escaped her lips as two different fingers, two middle fingers with a mind of their own, massaged her slippery lips, all the while the two index fingers kept up their masterful massage around her sensitive clitoris that strained to feel their every touch.
Linda could feel the orgasm coming. It was going to be powerful, so powerful that it scared her, but she gave in to her primal urges and lifted her mid-section off the bed as her vagina contracted and wave after wave of the warmest pleasure washed over her again and again and again.
