Arrival
Valentine's Day weekend marked the third year that Greg and Viola were living together. To celebrate, Greg arranged for them to drive up for a long weekend at a cozy in in New Hampshire.
As soon as they got sprung from their respective jobs, they piled into Greg's car along with snacks, hot cocoa, blankets and music, undaunted by the five-hour journey ahead of them.
They'd known as soon as they met that they were meant to be together. They were compatible on every level in spite of the fact that they came from decidedly different worlds. Greg was stocky but well-built and grew up on the streets of the Bronx, the middle child of a Puerto Rican family and Viola, tall, blonde and slim was the only child of a Connecticut politician and his stay-at-home wife. He went to public schools, she went to private schools. He was owned his own plumbing business and she was a dancer in Broadway shows. Yet together they were yin and yang. They simply belonged together and nowhere was that more true than in the bedroom.
Halfway through the trip, it began to snow. First fat, thick snowflakes that plopped onto the windshield then, the farther north they got, the finer the snow got and the harder it was blowing. Viola was driving and had to pull over at a rest stop to remove her contact lenses and change to her glasses. Greg took over the driving and the five hour journey took seven. They arrived at the inn at midnight.
The innkeeper at The Nor'Easter Inn had stayed awake reading as she awaited the arrival of her guests who had courteously called from the road to let her know that because of the storm they'd be late.
"You must be starved," she told them and went to the kitchen to fetch leftovers from the evening meal. With the winter storm warning, all of her other weekend guests had swallowed the loss of their deposit and left before the storm hit its peak or didn't show up at all, so there were plenty of leftovers for Greg and Viola.
Caroline Hawthorne, a distant relative of the famous New England writer of the same last name owned the inn. She was a young widow who lost her husband and partner in the inn when both were 38 years old. To her it seemed like only yesterday that he was killed by a mine in Afghanistan, but it was five years ago this coming April. She still missed him terribly.
A fine cook, she inherited her grandparent's huge Victorian home right at the edge of a state park. She and Steve had made a go of it almost immediately and it seemed to be a slam dunk for them until his National Guard unit was called up. Even then, for several months she managed the place on her own, cooked for guests, kept the books, managed the three helpers she had who cared for the property and changed linen and did small repairs when needed. And then the phone call came.
Caroline helped Greg and Viola get settled in the honeymoon suite (an upgrade made available by the cancellation of a newlywed couple) and laid out a dinner of beef pot pies for the couple.
"Wine?" she asked. And then poured glasses of merlot for all three of them. They sat at the long, family-style table and chatted with the couple as they chowed down hungrily on the dinner.
Caroline told them the history of the inn along with the sad story of her and her late husband. Viola, seeing Caroline's eyes begin to tear up, reached out her hand and took Caroline's hand in her own, stroking it gently with her thumb.
Dinner finished, Caroline offered coffee and apple pie but the guests were exhausted. By then it was one-thirty in the morning and it was time to go to bed. Caroline asked them if there was anything they needed, made sure there was sufficient firewood and kindling for a fire in the wood stove and went off to her quarters, leaving the couple alone in the suite.
They undressed, showered together and put on the white terrycloth bathrobes the inn supplied. Greg had never put up a fire in a wood stove but Viola's family had one in their family room and got a blazing fire going in no time.
The picture window in the bedroom was open to the forestland revealing a winter wonderland as they basked in the heat of the fire. Once the room was warmed up, Greg removed his robe and removed Viola's. Standing behind her, he encircled her waist with his arms and nuzzled her neck.
"You know that makes me crazy," Viola groaned, half from fatigue and half from passion. "Aren't you tired?"
"Nah! You know me, babe. Besides, here we are in a romantic inn, probably snowed in for the weekend. We can always sleep."
Now his hands were on her small breasts as her hips began to gyrate. His fingertips gliding over her hard, pink nipples. She ground her ass against his hardening cock as his hands wandered down to her belly as she sighed, "Ooh," knowing full well where his hands were headed.
He loved that she kept her pussy; he could feel her heat and her wetness as soon as his fingertips encountered her opening pussy lips. Greg used his thumb to tease Viola's now-swollen clit as first one and then a second finger entered her canal. Removing his fingers from inside her, he put them in his mouth to taste her goodness. Then he shared the treat with her and the action of her gently sucking and tonguing his fingers made him even harder as he groaned, "Oh honey." Then back inside her pussy they went.
They didn't last much longer in front of the wintry landscape because they literally fell into bed and went at each other like the two hungry creatures they were. In no time, she was on her back and he was sliding in and out of her. Slowly at first but then frantically as though his life depended upon it. She arched her dancer's body up at him, swallowing his cock inside her. She was the first to cum, her body trembling out of control and it was her orgasm that triggered his, seconds later as he spurted his cum into her. Lying atop her strong and sweat-soaked body, he kissed her deeply, told her he loved her and immediately fell asleep with her.
But Caroline the innkeeper was not asleep. She had watched the attractive couple making love and, masturbating, timed her own orgasm to theirs.
"Oh Steve, I miss you so much," she whispered in the dark.
2. Snowy Saturday
When they awoke the next day, the storm had passed and the sun was out. Great mounds of snow covered most everything outside and the bright azure blue of the sky made it all the more brilliant to the eyes.
Viola and Greg awoke to the smell of brewed coffee and bacon. After a quick shower, the hungry couple fled to the dining room/kitchen for breakfast. When they arrived, there were hot pancakes piled on a platter along with hot scrambled eggs, biscuits and bacon warming in the serving area. Caroline was nowhere to be seen until Viola, going to the urn to fetch coffee for the two of them, saw the innkeeper half under the sink where she was wrestling with a wrench to repair something.
"Help yourselves. We have a bit of a leak that I'm trying to fix. I'll be with you in a few minutes." Ordinarily, and old codger named Otis, who lived in town, would do the plumbing repairs to the old house for her, but Otis never went out in the snow anymore.
"Greg's a plumber. He'll take a look at it for you. I'm sure he can fix it. If it's not a big leak, just leave a few towels to soak it up and come have breakfast with us."
"Sure. No problem's too big or too small for Greg the Plumber," Greg laughed. Come and eat with us." Which is just what she did.
As they ate, they talked about themselves, about the inn and the things that normally were available to do when they weren't snowbound. Greg would have to shovel his way to his truck to get to his tools and the women agreed that, after the leak was fixed, maybe they could all go outside and have a snowball fight or build a snowman.
Once they finished eating, Greg examined the leak with Caroline. As they both lay on their backs beneath the commercial-sized sink, their faces were merely inches apart and a moment passed where, in spite of the best wisdom of each of them, it would have been so easy to have exchanged a kiss or more. Greg snapped himself out of it and addressed the problem of the leak. All the tools he'd need to fix the leaking pipe was the wrench that Caroline had been using earlier. Some Teflon tape would help but it wasn't necessary. Otis could do that later.
So, without it being necessary to get to the truck, the three of them cleaned up the kitchen and headed out into the snow with the joy of three innocent children.
They estimated that there were two feet of snow on the ground. Perfect for making snow angels. Viola hurled the first snowball at Greg and Greg returned the favor, hurling one at Caroline. When they tired of the snowball fighting, Caroline went into the house and fetched a carrot from the kitchen. As he helped Viola scrape the snow from her coat, Greg's hand brushed her breast and they stood there in the snow, which is where Caroline found them when she returned. The couple had red faces, whether from the cold, the embarrassment of being caught or from the passion of the moment, Caroline couldn't tell, but the sight caused her to replay all she'd seen the night before.
Both Caroline and the couple shared an awkward moment as Greg and Viola both thought it was making her flash back to better times when her husband was alive.
It was Viola who called out, "Hey everyone! Group hug!" So they got together and shared a tight group hug that wasn't altogether very intimate given how bundled up they all were. Though it wasn't very intimate, it was heartfelt and it was Viola who broke the moment asking Caroline, "Is that a carrot in your hand or are you just happy to see me?" They laughed, but for Caroline, who had seen Greg's sizable "carrot" on her laptop, it had a mixed meaning.
Greg was the first one to get cold and he went back inside to take a nap. Caroline and Viola shoveled their way to the truck while he slept, then, tired out by the cold and the exertion, they walked back inside holding hands.
