He hated winters in the north. He was a Southern boy, born and bred. How he had let his buddy convince him to watch this old cabin up in the middle of the forest, in the middle of the winter, he would never know. To make it worse, there was no electricity. To heat the damn place, he needed firewood. To get firewood, he had to chop it up himself.
His friend did have an old radio that he used from time to time, keeping up with what few current events that he actually cared to listen to. More importantly, keeping an ear out for the weather. Blizzards were common up this way, and they were bad. When the news reported a bad storm rolling my way, he went out and began to chop up as much firewood as he could.
Not too long into my chopping, he heard sounds coming through the woods, sounds that did not resemble anything any of the indigenous animals made. Setting down his axe and picking up a hot cup of coffee, he watched the woods as a beautiful, young woman trudged through the already nearly knee deep snow.
She stopped, suddenly, when she realized that she had entered a populated clearing. She looked around nervously, apparently she had heard many a tale about crazed woodsmen who preyed on the innocent hikers who stumbled upon their lairs. He stood there, casually sipping his coffee, waiting for her to either come closer or to leave.
Finally, a strong cold wind deciding for her, she approached him. He warned her that a blizzard was coming through and that she was welcome to stay in the cabin until it blew over but she refused, still hesitant to accept the company of a total stranger. He poured her some coffee, refilling her thermos and watched her leave, hoping nothing bad would happen.
An hour later, he was in the cabin as the first strong winds began to blow in. The fire was stoked, slowly warming the room and the stove held a large pot of chili. A bad feeling began to fill him, a sense of foreboding. Cursing himself, he quickly threw on his coat and opened the door, prepared to go looking for her and knowing it would be hopeless.
As the door flew open, blown out of his hands by the fierce wind, he saw her standing there, ready to knock. He ushered her inside and forced the door closed, blocking out the wind. He moved her to the fireplace, hoping to get her warm. It was obvious that she had been caught by the leading edge of the storm and barely found her way back.
He passed her a mug of coffee and some chili which she took gratefully. He rushed into the bedroom, looking for some dry clothes. All He could find was a quilt. Apologizing, He handed her the quilt. He turned his back as she struggled out of her wet clothes, which were hung up next to the fireplace to dry. She huddled under the old quilt, next to the fire, shivering and eating slowly.
There was little conversation. Eventually, she began to doze and he carefully picked her up, trying his best to keep her covered and only partially succeeding. He carried her to the bed, her body partially exposed to his view. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see that one of her breasts had come uncovered as had her clean shaven pussy.
He quickly laid her down on the bed, hurriedly covering her with the quilt and the blankets. He returned to the living room, pouring himself some whiskey from a bottle above the fireplace and dozed off. He woke up a short while later, some sound having intruded into his dreams. Looking up, he saw her standing there, quilt wrapped loosely around her but hanging off of one shoulder, allowing the soft curve of her breast to tease him.
