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The snow had come early, a sure sign of a bad winter. Living in the mid-western United States, you quickly learn that snow storms can kick up out of nowhere, last for hours, and take days to recover from: all the perks of living in the mountains with none of the scenery.
The old battlewagon was moving slowly for some reason this weekend; there was a smell coming from the engine that wasn't quite exhaust, burning oil, or anti-freeze. Whatever it was, it was bad. The old beat up Chevy wagon had been through hell and back, and it was due to die soon. I kept trying to coax it through just one more winter and I'd let it die this spring. I had to get it there first, and winter had just begun its 4-month reign of ice and snow. First, I just wanted to get home from the horror that had been Thanksgiving with my in-laws.
8 hours of bickering, bad food, and not nearly enough alcohol in the eggnog had more than dulled my appreciation for the holiday. To top it all off I had a fight with my wife because of things brought up by her sisters that happened before Tanya and I had even met. I was so pissed off I said I was going to just go home. She told me off and said she was staying with her folks until we both had calmed down. I got in the car and started barreling down the highway for the 4-hour trip back to the empty house. Yet another holiday down the drain. Fuckin' Thanksgiving.
The wind had kicked up out of nowhere. The snow started falling soon after. Then came the sleet. It got so bad so fast that the windshield wipers on the car froze in mid-position. The already-setting sun was disappearing rapidly and the weather consumed the fading light with a voracious appetite. I braved the conditions for 20 minutes without a problem, came around a curve in the road and hit a deer. The car lurched to the side and up-ended into the ditch. I remember hitting the brakes in panic as the car was already sliding, and I remember my airbag rushing toward my face when the sound of crunching steel screamed to my ears. Then there was nothing.
I came to sometime later. The car was without power and I didn't have my watch on. There was a thundering in my ears and I thought I heard a tapping on the window. I looked over and saw a figure outside. A flashlight shined in the window, waved by an unseen hand.
"Well, there's at least 2 of them," I thought slowly and the darkness and pain overtook me again.
The second time I came back to reality, I was someplace warm and stretched out. I opened my eyes slowly and realized that I heard three voices. The word music doesn't even begin to do justice to the voices I was hearing. The soft feminine crooning of a lullaby permeated the car and everything in it. I felt the music penetrate me to my very soul. Its beauty eased my pain. I looked up and realized that my head was in the lap that belonged to one of the voices. The face singing looked down on me. The vision could only be described as angelic.
Long red curls framed a pale face. The most penetrating blue eyes shined as sapphires on an alabaster sea. The fullness of her lips made me realize that my pants were uncomfortably tight. The very tip of her pink tongue flashing behind the white pearls of her teeth made me shiver slightly; the movement was an eruption of pain that was quickly abated by the sultry tones of the three voices.
Her mouth turned up into a smile as she sang and I barely made out the words "Go to sleep my little one," before I passed out again, only too happy to stay where I was. Besides, it only made sense to do as the lady said.
Consciousness found me again, this time I was in an old farmhouse. My coat had been taken off and so had my shoes. I was lying on a fur rug in front of a fireplace; the smell of the hickory logs burning slowly was a welcome scent. The smell of cooking food drifting in from an adjacent kitchen met my nose happily; I couldn't place the meal, but it smelled like meat and potatoes. I turned my head lazily and looked at the place.
White wallpaper, oak trim, cast iron stove in one corner, a brick fireplace in one wall, and two windows in every wall except the wall to my left decorated this room. Large over-stuffed furniture was place cozily around the room with more oak furniture intermingled. The whole place emanated antiquity, though nothing was dirty and the air was not musty like most old farm places. I heard a door open and those three voices drifted in like a dream. I heard clanking in the kitchen and I sat up on the rug. I was about to try to stand when the redhead came back in and shook her head, still smiling at me and seductively pointed back down to the rug I was now sitting on. I lay back down and took in the site before me. She slowly pulled the zipper of her parka down, exposing a tight cable-knit sweater underneath. She took the coat off and gently flung it into the chair next to her.
Her boots were next to go. They were lace up boots, like combat boots, but they were lined with fur. She took them off slowly and I saw her bare feet emerge from their leathery confinement, her deep crimson toe-nails flashing in the light of the fire as she crunched her toes up into little fists a few times. Her snow pants came off next, slowly peeling from her body, revealing miles of denim encased legs under the insulated coveralls. The fabric pooled around those soft toes and she stepped forward.
The sultry tones of their singing rose in a harmonizing note and their voices turned to gospel music. Never in all my life had old gospel music sounded so sensuous and reacted with my body in such a manner. The simple sound of those sexy voices was enthralling me more than any site my eyes have ever beheld. The red head shook her hair out and pulled the loose locks back over her shoulders, exposing her slender neck. The vixen swayed out of the room slowly and returned with a plate of food a few seconds later. Following her were the owners of those other two equally sensuous voices. My eyes rolled off the redheaded vision before me and I soaked in the visage of the other two.
The first one in the room was already stripped of her winter gear. She was of Native American decent, that much was sure from her nearly oriental eyes and beautifully tanned skin. Her long silky hair hung around her body like a nymph's shawl, its brunette beauty almost glowing in the ambient firelight. Random tight braids protruded and danced among the rest of her silken strands, those too were playing in the firelight, with one strand of the braid lightened to almost blonde and the other strand having been darkened to the deepest ebony. Her face was narrow and had an almost royal quality to it, those deep black orbs drawing my eyes from her cheekbones. Her lips were unpainted, but were the most beautiful shade of natural pink I had ever seen; it was almost like seeing the color for the first time.
