A Warm Place

The cabin was bigger than I was expecting. Expecting it would be actually small was probably silly, but the script said small, so I thought small. Turns out movie small is real life big. A spacious central room attached to a kitchen made up the downstairs, while the upstairs was a balcony that ran all around the main room with two bedrooms and a bathroom. At the time, I lived in a studio apartment in the part of Hollywood that still looked like

Assault on Precinct 13

, the cabin might as well have been a palace. It was almost enough to distract me from who I had just spent four hours in a car with to get here.

"We're shootin'

here

?" she said dubiously, pulling her sunglasses down to appraise it with her ocean blue eyes.

"It's nice."

"Yeah. Way

too

nice," she huffed, moving past me. I did my best not to stare at her heart-shaped ass, rocking to and fro in skintight jeans. Not ogling the talent was one of the main duties of a Production Assistant.

Her name on the call sheet was Anna Call, but I knew her by another name. Another name I didn't dare repeat for what it said about me, though it damn near slipped out of my mouth when she answered the door. "They said you can stay here. I think they actually want you to get a feel for the place. I'm...uh..." I glanced at the map. "Well, I'll find it anyway. I'm on the walkie if you need anything."

She turned and gave me a look. It was easy to forget she was only twenty. But look at her rounded face, her freckles, her smooth skin, it was there. Right now, her glossy red hair was pulled into a high ponytail. Her impressive breasts were barely corralled in a peasant top, and then there was the jeans, some knee-high boots, and a brown leather jacket. "Like what? What do you do?"

"Whatever you need." I went to the fridge and checked it, then the pantry. "You've got food, but if you have a special request or anything like that, I can drive out to town for you."

"You're a gofer."

"Yeah, basically."

"When's production getting here? I'm supposed to have an assistant."

"Day after tomorrow. I guess Sterling is wrapping another film." I named the "star," though that was being generous. Kurt Sterling hadn't been a star in fifteen years, reduced to doing the kind of movie that had a script like the one I had rolled my eyes through.

She sighed. "Thank you." When she said it, I heard the traces of a Kentucky accent she was desperately trying to suppress.

"No problem. Call if you need anything." I turned to go.

"You have a name?"

"It's Ash."

"Ash?"

"Short for Ashley."

She giggled. "Ain't that a little girly?"

"Everyone in gym sure thought so," I said, and the memories made it come out harsher than I'd intended. "If you don't need anything, I'll see where they have me."

"No," she said, quietly. "Thank you again."

I left, mentally kicking myself. Anna Call, or whatever she called herself, was the most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen. And I'd managed to make it awkward. At least it was only two days. This wouldn't linger. When the rest of production made it up here, she'd forget all about me.

I went up the dirt driveway and around a corner. After some hunting around, I found my cabin. If this was where I was spending the shoot, I was cooked. This thing was a shack and not a particularly nice one. One room, a cot, and I'm pretty sure no insulation in the walls. The one bathroom was a walk to a central area in between a collection of these torture rooms. I looked up at a leaden sky and shivered at the bite in the air. At least the weather said the storm would pass us by. It'd get cold, but not bone-chilling.

I didn't find that terribly comforting when I was freezing my ass off overnight in the shack. I didn't even get undressed, just wrapped myself in the one blanket the place had. I don't think I had more than thirty minutes of sleep. When I opened the door the next morning it was into two feet of snow. I stared at it in disbelief, then in mounting irritation as I realized I was going to have to make it to Anna Call's cabin somehow. I was a city boy, born and raised in Los Angeles, so getting through snow wasn't exactly my strong suit.

What had taken me five minutes the previous day took me two hours that crystalline morning. I figured there was an easier way but I had no idea what they might be. By the time I was knocking on Anna's front door, I was shivering helplessly and soaking wet from the knees down.

Anna opened the door, her eyes widening. "Ash! Are you okay?"

"Freezing," I managed.

"Come in, come in," she said, standing aside. She was wrapped in a furry robe. Cozy, unlike me. "What happened?"

"Snowed last night. Had to walk here. See if you wanted anything."

"You poor thing! Get your wet things off, I was just gonna start a fire."

Obediently, I took off my shoes and socks. They weren't built for the snow and had entirely soaked through. My pantlegs were just as bad, but I didn't figure she wanted me to strip down. I settled down on the chair closest to the fireplace while Anna knelt before it. I was impressed at the way she quickly got the thing going, then sat back with a proud sigh. She looked over at me and her expression changed. "

All

your wet things. I don't need you catchin' cold." The more she talked, the more her accent came out.

I raised my eyebrows in a

You sure?

and she nodded, so I stood up, undid my jeans and stripped them off. She smiled when she saw my crocodile boxer shorts. "Cute."

"I wasn't expecting to show them off." I picked up a blanket and wrapped it around myself while she set my things to be dried by the fire.

"I didn't think it was supposed to snow," she said, looking outside.

"The storm was supposed to pass us by," I said. "Guess not."

"What'd you come over to ask?"

"If there was anything you needed, but I don't think I can make it down to the market, even if you did want something. Can I make you something to eat?"

"You cook? Sure. Hold on, there's another one of these robes. Let me get it." She fetched a warm robe from the closet and when I had it belted I felt truly warm for the first time. My feet were still cold, especially against the hardwood, but after the walk over, I'd take it. With my body heat at a respectable level, I went into the kitchen and got to work. I was already looking forward to telling Natalie about this. She'd find it hilarious.

Anna followed me in and watched as I used what was in the fridge to make us omelets and potatoes. We ate in front of the fire. "They'd kill me if they saw I was eatin' this."

"Why?"

"Gotta stay thin for the cameras."

I snorted. "Fuck 'em."

"Easy for you to say. Your career ain't based on how well your tits stay up."

"Suppose not."

"It's good though. Where'd you learn to cook like this?"

"Taught myself mostly. It's a hobby."

"Good hobby," she said. "Maybe I'll get them to make you my assistant." She looked at me keenly. "What do you do really?"

"Production Assistant."

"I know I've only been out here for a little bit, but I know that nobody

wants

to be a PA. That's foot in the door. What do you want to do?"

"Writer."

"No kiddin'! You write this thing?"

"God no."

She giggled. "Yeah, it ain't too good. Beggars can't be choosers."

"You can elevate this thing," I said. "You just have to nail that scene in the third act."

"The

Scooby-Doo

part?"

Now I had to chuckle. "Yeah. I mean, it sucks but if you do it well, nobody's gonna care. It's the only thing memorable in the movie. Or it will be, if you can make it that way."

She stared at me speculatively. "You mind if I run lines with you? I mean, we got nothin' else to do."

"Yeah, of course. Anything you need, remember?"

"Great!" She scampered off and that was when she really looked her age. It was easy to forget, what with her being the star of this thing, and probably playing a character who was supposed to be at least a decade older, but she was younger than I was. Just a couple years, but still.

We settled in, losing the bulk of the day, running her scenes over and over again. Her role, Kate Lockhart, wasn't well-written, but it had a bit more meat than something you would expect for a movie like this. Anna dove into it. We zeroed in on a voice for her too. She initially tried to lose her accent, but I convinced her just to soften it a little bit and concentrate on deepening her voice to portray the age of the character, who was supposed to be at least a decade older than Anna was.

"I need a break," she said, sticking out her tongue.

"Yeah, let me get you something to drink."

I came back with water, and she pointed to the pack I'd carried in. "What's in there?"

"Laptop. Thought I could get some writing done if you didn't need me."

"Oh yeah? Got a screenplay in here?"

"I have something I'm working on."

"Well, let's see it."

"I don't know."

"C'mon, you got a real professional actress here," she said with a playful swagger.

"Yeah, okay. It's still a work in progress." I opened the computer and pulled up the screenplay that was heavy on the work and light on the progress and handed it over. This was supposed to be my foot in the door, the thing I'd show the first person who'd ask. At least, I would if I could finish the damn thing. There was always another draft to be done, always an improvement to be made.

Anna slipped down into the chair and took sipped from the glass. "Water? Uh uh. I saw a handle of Kentucky bourbon in the cupboard. You're good in the kitchen, mix us up a cocktail."

I shrugged, found the bottle and did what I could with what we had. Then I brought it back with my heart in my throat. Watching someone read your writing is awkward, and it didn't help that it was her. I wanted to pace around but I was also freezing, so I just cuddled up in my robe and pointed my bare feet at the blaze in the fireplace.

Outside, I saw the snow beginning to fall, but I was so comfortable, I didn't get up. We had descended into a hypnotic state. Finally, she looked up. "This is really good, Ash."

"Thanks."

"No, I'm serious. This is

really

good. You got an agent?"

"Nope. Turned down a few times."

"Let me get this to mine. Maybe he knows who to send it to."

"You don't have to."

"I

want

to. Least I can do for my snow buddy."

I chuckled. "Thanks."

"Snowin' again."

"Yeah. Not looking forward to walking back."

"You're not walkin' back. This place is big enough for the both of us. So long as you're a gentleman."

"Yes ma'am. You hungry? Let me make us some dinner."

We ate in front of the fire. I thought that being away from the fire was what made me cold, but it wasn't the fire keeping me warm.

She grinned to herself, a twinkle in her eye. She was having a debate with in her mind, trying to decide if she was going to say what she was turning over and over. "You recognized me, didn't you?" she asked.

I felt my face getting hot and I had a good look at the pasta on my plate. "Yeah, I did. I almost called you Miss Michelle."

She laughed. "Yeah, I thought so. Saw it in your face when you picked me up."

"Where did the name come from?"

"Deanna Michelle. Dumb name, right? I picked it because it was the names of the two girls who used to bully me in school."

"Bully you?"

"Yeah, glasses, red hair, I was kinda nerdy on top of it."

"Okay, those are all good qualities?"

"Not where I went to school. I was also a late bloomer. I didn't start lookin' like this until the summer after high school. That's when I got approached for, y'know, modelin'. I thought the guy might be a creep, so I got my dad to go with me to the first shoot. Can you believe that?"

"Which one is the first one?"

"Oh, that wasn't in any of the big magazines. I didn't start with those till last year. Which is what I'm guessin' you've seen."

I nodded. "Yeah, a couple."

"Anna Call's my real name," she confided. "It's silly. I mean, I know if I make it, the pictorials're gonna come out. I'm okay with that. I know I got nothin' to be ashamed of. Just wish I didn't have that name, you know? Get reminded of the girls who made my life hell."

"Yeah, that's hard."

"What were you thinkin' when you saw me?"

"I was thinking that my girlfriend wouldn't believe it."

She faltered a bit, but recovered. "Girlfriend? You got a girlfriend? Tell me about her."

"Her name's Natalie. I think she might be a bigger fan of yours than I am."

"Really?" she leaned forward.

"Oh yeah. She says you're like an old school pinup, a real artist. She's also bi, so I think some of that is her rationalizing how hot she thinks you are."

"Where's Natalie now?"

"She's still in college. She's a couple years younger than me."

"She want to be a writer too?"

"Visual artist."

"Got a picture?"

"Yeah, right there in the laptop case." This was back when we still had real pictures, when they weren't just in phones.

Anna fished around and pulled out the snap of Natalie. It had been at the end of a long day at the beach, so Nat had her sweatshirt on over her bikini, sitting on a rock and tucking her long hair behind her ear, her long, slender legs carelessly crossed. "She's pretty."

"I think so."

"You take this?"

"Yeah."

"She loves you."

"I don't...she never said the words."

"You can see it in her eyes." Anna stared at it, lost in the picture for a moment, then she held it out for me. I nodded to the laptop case and she blushed and slipped it back in. "Wish somebody looked at me like that."

"I figured everybody looked at you like that."

"There's a difference. I wish I could..." she trailed off, her eyes meeting mine. I felt my face growing hotter than the fire. I had to look away. She was quiet for a few moments, and when we went back to running lines, there was a strange, livewire energy to her readings.

"Anna. This. This is really good."

"What is?"

"What you're doing with the words. You put this energy in on the day? Yeah, you'll get the notices you want."

Color crept into her cheeks. She had luminous skin, and in that moment, her freckles made her look so young. We went back to work, and though she didn't get that energy every time, she was circling it, growing closer and closer.

By the time night fell, the snow was up over the ground floor windows. "That's...that's gonna make it hard to get back to my place."

"Stay here," she said, sitting up straight. Her eyes flicked away, then back to me. I could have fallen into the blue.

"I can't do that."

"You can't get through that!" She gestured to the window. "Besides, this place is big enough. There's a whole other room."

She was right. Going back was foolish at best. "Actually, if you don't mind, I wouldn't mind sleeping down here in front of the fire."

"Perfect." She smiled at her drink. "That'd be perfect."

It was getting late, and the heat of the fire and the cold of the room was weighing me down. I went up to the next floor and Anna directed me to the right bedroom. I came down with a pillow and blankets.

"Goodnight," she said, heading upstairs.

"Goodnight. Thanks for being cool about this."

She smiled at me. "First time I've ever been snowed in anywhere."

"Me too."

She shivered. "I'm gonna climb in bed and try to remember what it's like to be warm."

She disappeared into her room and shut the door. My pants, shoes, and socks had dried, but I didn't bother with them. Still in the robe, I cocooned myself in blankets and turned my back to the fire. It was already dying, leaping flames diminishing to coal-bright embers. It would be coal and dust by morning, and I'd enjoy what heat it had before tomorrow's deep freeze. Sleep took me with big dark wings, and I knew nothing else for a time.

Then, awareness. The sense I wasn't alone. A silhouette in front of the dying fire. Natalie? No, too curvy, an hourglass out of time. A voice, soft accent. "Ash? It's too cold upstairs. Can I bunk with you?"

I muttered agreement. I would have agreed to anything. Sleep still clung to me with hungry tendrils. I couldn't surface all the way, and it was impossible to say no.

I heard rustling, and then, I felt the shape--Anna, my addled brain reminded me, it was Anna--pushing her way under the covers. She pressed her back into me, and I was on my side, and just like that, we were under the blankets together, spooning. Her head was pillowed on my left arm, and my right naturally wrapped around her middle, facing the fading fire.

The final cobwebs of dreams still clung to me when my fingers brushed over her belly, finding a place where I could relax. I was expecting the cloth of a nightshirt.

I felt bare flesh.

Smooth, taut skin. Cold, but warming up. I froze, wakefulness hitting me like a blast of freezing air. Maybe her shirt got pushed up when she squeezed in. Maybe she slept in a crop top or a sports bra or something. Or maybe it was like it felt. Maybe she was nude.

I'd seen her nude many times. Now I was feeling skin that until this moment had been a fantasy. Her body fit into the contours of mine. Her ass was pressed into my crotch. No other place for it to go. If she was nude, all that was between her sex and mine was the thin layer of cloth of my boxers. I felt myself stirring, my cock beginning to wake up with the rest of me. I mentally cursed. If this was innocent, if she was freezing and was in fact dressed despite how she felt under my fingers, she was going to feel a boner poking her ass and that would be it. I'd traumatize this nice woman who had been nothing but kind to me.

An idea occurred to me. I had a way out. Just had to take it. It took willpower, granted, because I would be rejecting a fantasy jointly held by Nat and I. I heard Nat cursing me out for not making a move. She would have, but that was Natalie. With us, she had made the first move, and that had been by planting a kiss on me.

I groaned, as though half-asleep, and made to turn over. Back-to-back she couldn't feel my arousal. I could have the biggest erection of my life and she'd never know. It would die and we could both sleep.

"Where are you going?" she murmured, catching my wrist and drawing me back around her, fitting us into the former position like puzzle pieces sliding into place. Her words were sharp; she was still wide awake.

"Give you some space," I said, hoping my voice sounded thick with sleep.

"I told you, I'm cold. I was hopin' you'd warm me up."

In the flickering light of the room, I could only see the back of her head, her long red hair. I felt her put my hand to her belly again, this time purposefully. I spread my fingers and touched no cloth. She sighed, and this time pressed her ass back into me. I couldn't hide what was happening. I braced for a betrayed shriek.

She only sighed again. The twin globes of her ass were hot against my crotch. My cock swelled, pinned between her crack and my body. She had to feel that. Her hand squeezed mine and released it. I tried to treat this as a scientific question, to divorce myself from the sensory overload of the warmth of her body, the softness of her skin, the sweet smell of her form. My chest against her back, my growing hardness against her ass. I moved my hand from her belly, finding the dip of her waist. I felt no cloth against her.

I was still for what felt like hours. My cock was now painfully hard between us, caught under the elastic of my boxers, pinned and pinioned. I knew that moving my hand too soon would tell her what I was doing. I had to pretend that I was asleep and my movement was accidental.

She snuggled into me, her ass swaying back and forth. In my mind, I saw her walking to my car from her apartment, wrapped in those skintight jeans. The underside of me slid between her cheeks. I stayed as still as death. Moving now, though my entire will demanded I start to rock against her, would betray me.