(Author's note – from time to time, in this story, there will be references to previous experiences enjoyed by Janet and Mary. More (intimate!) details of these can be found in my stories – "New Year's Revelations" and "One Night at a Party".)
Their breath frosting in the chill late afternoon air, they tumbled out of the SUV, and Pete fiddled, frustratingly, with the key to the impressive timber-built lodge.
"However did you get this place?" Mary asked Janet, as they hopped from one foot to the other, trying to keep warm.
"A friend of Pete's father owns it, and he lent it to him for a couple of weeks. Pete's parents were supposed to be coming with us, but they can only come for one week, now, so we've got the place to ourselves till next Saturday," Janet replied, in between exhorting her husband to 'get a move on' opening the door.
"Oh, you're lucky," said Mary. "We've only got the one week – we go home on Saturday."
At that, the door swung open, at last, and the four of them hurried inside. The log fire in the open-plan living-area was still alight, but only just, and Pete and Charlie went out through the back door for more logs, while their wives set about preparing the much-needed coffee.
"So," said Janet, "how did you enjoy your first day's skiing?"
"I thought it was wonderful," giggled Mary, recollecting the number of times she had slid down the nursery slopes on her behind. "How about you?"
"Aye, I enjoyed it," smiled Janet, in her East of Scotland brogue. "I'm really glad we met you two, though – I'd have felt a real idiot if Pete and I had been the only adults falling about all over the place! Mind you, Howie was very patient, wasn't he?"
"Oh, yes," agreed Mary. "Although he isn't how I pictured a ski instructor! He's a bit older than I thought they were – and a bit skinnier! He's very nice, though – and he obviously knows what he's doing."
Janet looked at her, quizzically. "He seemed to know what he was doing with you OK, anyway," she commented, drily.
Mary coloured up. She had thought no-one had noticed. The first time Howie had helped her to her feet, she had wondered if the contact of his hands on her breasts was accidental, but there had no question about it, second time around. As his hands slid under her armpits to lift her from the snow, they had definitely cupped her breasts, and squeezed them – and, as Mary had struggled to regain her standing position, with Howie behind her, there had been no mistaking the hard ridge she had felt, momentarily, pressing against her bottom.
It was odd, Mary thought, how she saw these things differently, in the last year. Almost her first thought, after she was back on her feet, was how Charlie would enjoy hearing about how the ski instructor had copped a sneaky feel of his wife's tits. She would wait till they were back home, of course, before she told him, and then, between them, they would conjure up a story in which things would go much further ...
But, for Janet's benefit, she laughed lightly and said – "Yes, I suppose he's used to picking up 'damsels in distress'! Anyway, I liked him – I'm glad he's coming tonight."
"Aye – he should be good company. I bet he's got a lot of stories!" said Janet.
"I bet, if we're anything to go by!" laughed Mary. "It was very good of you to invite us back for dinner, too – thanks. And you're sure you've got enough food, and so on?"
"Oh, yes," said Janet. "It's just a couple of bottles of wine – and Pete's malt whisky – we're short of, and the boys can pick that up in town when they go down."
"Aye, we can't manage without a bottle of Highland Park," put in Pete, as he lumbered through the kitchen with an armful of logs.
"Are you sure you'll be OK on that road?" asked Mary. "It'll be dark before you get there – and there's fresh snow falling."
"Ach, we'll be OK," pronounced Pete, dismissively. "It's only about a 40-minute run – and we're used to snow, in Scotland. We'll be back by the time you two have got the dinner on."
Dropping his load of logs on the hearth, Charlie took the cup of coffee Janet handed him, and gratefully sank into a chair.
"This is a great place," he said, looking round. "You should see the pokey little hotel room we've got, in the town."
It was on the tip of Janet's tongue to suggest that Mary and Charlie join them to stay at the lodge for the rest of the week, but, just in time, she bit back her invitation. After all, they had only met the other couple that morning, and, although they all seemed to get on very well, it might be advisable to get to know them a little better before making a commitment she might regret.
Also, she thought, there might be definite advantages to having the place to themselves, as a delicious memory flitted across her mind's eye of how she and Pete had rolled around, naked, in the snow the previous night before he chased her inside and took her, ferociously, on the rug in front of the roaring log fire ...
She looked up and caught his eye, and he grinned. She knew that he knew what she had been thinking, and a pleasurable shiver ran through her. She dropped her eyes, aware that her face was reddening, and glad that it was still flushed from the day's exertions on the slopes.
"Right!" said Pete, standing up. "The sooner we get away, the sooner we'll be back. Ready, Charlie?"
"Sure am!" responded Charlie.
The girls accompanied them to the door. The snow was falling quite heavily.
"You be careful!" warned Janet.
"No worries!" called Pete, as he swung up into the driver's seat. "Just get on with the cooking, woman!"
The engine roared into life, and Charlie waved to Mary as they bumped across the rough ground towards the single-track road.
"I'll give him 'cooking'" Janet growled, as the girls shut the door behind them. "I'm going to get some of this gear off, then have a big glass of wine, beside that fire, before I even think about cooking!"
She led Mary into the second bedroom and showed her where everything was. Left alone, Mary took off her outer layers, but decided to keep her jeans and jersey on, meanwhile. She was still a little chilled from the afternoon in the cold, and the jeep had been a bit draughty.
She returned to the living area. Janet was pouring two large glasses of sparkling white wine. She was still wearing her tight ski-pants, but had donned a red polo-neck sweater.
She was quite tall – about five foot eight inches to Mary's five-four – and, Mary thought to herself, she was 'handsome', rather than pretty, with her long black hair and well-defined features. She was still wearing her glasses, which made her look a little severe. She's got a lovely figure, though, thought Mary, taking in the other girl's high, firm breasts and shapely buttocks, and her slim waist and straight shoulders.
"I bet she strips well," she thought – and then was surprised at the surge which ran through her, as her imagination pictured Janet, undressed. It was such an unusual reaction that her legs sagged a little, and she sat down rather quickly, and heavily. Janet looked up, concerned.
"Are you OK?" she asked, carrying the glasses over.
"Yes, thanks," mumbled Mary. "I think I'm maybe just a bit tired – all that exertion!"
"Yes," laughed Janet, "skiing gets to the parts other activities don't reach! Cheers, anyway," she added, holding up her glass.
"Yes – cheers," responded Mary. "Here's to a good evening!"
"Aye," came the reply. "If those two make it back! My Pete's not the Formula One driver he claims to be – and that snow's getting quite heavy ... Anyway, we'll manage fine by ourselves, if need be – and they can always bunk up in our hotel room, if need be – if they get stuck in the town!"
"Oh," said Mary. "Do you really think …?"
"No – not really. They should be OK," said Janet, dismissively. "Unless, of course," she added, "they fancy a night down there, on their own!"
Mary didn't know quite how to take that, so she just nodded, and took another mouthful from her glass, which, to her mild surprise, emptied it. Janet noticed and, emptying her own, stood up to go into the kitchen, to fetch the bottle. Mary couldn't help noticing the sway of Janet's hips as she passed in front of her, and felt, again, a little frisson of excitement.
She had never experienced this reaction to someone of her own sex, before, and it alarmed her. Inevitably, her mind was dragged back to the night, last summer, when she had found herself sexually 'sandwiched' between her friend, Beverley, and Bev's husband, Tony, and recalled that it had been Beverley who had pulled off Mary's bra and put her hands on her exposed breasts. Mary had sensed, dimly, then, that, although Beverley had ostensibly been exposing her friend's breasts for Tony's pleasure, Bev had derived some stimulus, herself, from feeling them and, at the same time, pressing her own large, bared breasts against Mary's naked back.
At the time, with her hand closing round Tony's stiff, excited erection, Mary's attention had been focussed on the heterosexual elements of that encounter, but later contemplation had called to mind Beverley's references to 'girl/girl' encounters from her school and college days. But Mary had not dwelt on these with any sense of envy – so why this reaction to Janet, now?
Coming back to the present, Mary realised that Janet had refilled her glass, and was speaking to her.
"Sorry!" she said, with an embarrassed half-laugh. "I was somewhere else, then!"
"Aye," came the thoughtful reply, "and it looked like an interesting place! I was saying – you've no worries about Charlie, on the loose in the town, then?"
"Oh, no," laughed Mary, genuinely, this time. "Quite the reverse, actually!"
Janet's face lit up with a gleam of interest.
"Now, what can you possibly mean by that?" she asked. Mary blushed, and took another drink.
"Oh, nothing, really." But when the other girl stayed silent and continued to look at her, speculatively, sitting forward, holding her glass in her cupped hands, Mary felt compelled to go on.
"Well – it's just – he's more interested in – what I do, than doing it with other girls, himself."
Janet stayed silent, a little frown of concentration on her high brow, an eyebrow arched in further query. Mary felt as if she was digging a hole she couldn't get out of, and tried to end the discussion.
"It's hard to explain," she said, with an attempt at a shrug. "And not worth the bother!"
"No," said Janet, unexpectedly, and Mary noticed that the knuckles of the fingers gripping the glass had turned white. "No," Janet repeated, "I think I maybe know where you're coming from, on this one. Do you mean – he likes you to … tell him things?"
"Well – something like that," said Mary, feeling very uncomfortable. "Oh, it's just 'pillow-talk' – it's nothing, really."
