It was a dark and stormy night. You remember those spooky stories the group leader used to tell while everyone was huddled around the campfire? They always started with, "It was a dark and stormy night....." and then proceeded to scare the shit out of you.
Well, this actually was a dark and stormy night and had been for the last hour or more. Fortunately for me, it was on the other side of my window pane. I myself was huddled up on the couch with a bag of crisps and a bottle of beer on the coffee table while I scrolled through Netflix looking idly for some mind-numbing movie to distract me from the fact that my girlfriend of eight months had yesterday packed her bags and walked out. She'd departed with some mumbled apology that it wasn't working out the way she'd thought, and....well, the door closed behind the rest of her sentence.
Now I'm usually the type of bloke who's into action movies, with a bit of CGI thrown in to make them larger than life so I can live vicariously through them as the super-hero who eventually manages to acquire all the fame/girls/money/lifestyle a man requires. But now, for some reason, I thought one of those Hallmark-type romance movies might do the trick. One where the girl walks out on the guy only to later have regrets and return to find she's unintentionally thrown him into the arms of another. Yeah, that's what I needed. That'd show her....
There was a knock at the front door. I say a knock, but it was more a kind of dull thump at the door.
She was back already? I threw off the blanket I'd snuggled under and went through to the hall. I looked towards the front door with its frosted glass panels when suddenly there was a flash of lightning and an almost simultaneous crash of thunder. A silhouette was highlighted outside. There was a small, dark, hunched body with, apparently, no arms. Definitely not the silhouette of the dear departed Mandy. A shiver of nightmarish campfire memories and almost pissing my pants was suddenly felt but just as quickly dismissed. I was an adult now, for God's sake, studying for my Master's.
I didn't really know anybody in the neighbourhood, so... get dressed? No, they'd have to take me as they found me, which was basically barefoot, wearing just a T-shirt and boxers.
I turned the hall light on just as the figure thumped again and this time its head slumped heavily against the glass. It was a woman. And apparently in some distress. I rushed forward and swung the door open. The figure that had still been leaning against it dropped heavily forward into my arms. It was a freezing, shivering lump. I hadn't seen its arms through the glass because they were wrapped tightly around the flimsy dress she was wearing. She'd been knocking with her head. And she was soaking, with water dripping from every low point of her figure - from the hem of her dress, from her elbows which she still held protectively round her body, and from her shaggy disheveled hair which hung in a matted clump across her face.
I put my arm around her and pulled her, half lifted her, into the house and straight through into the warm living-room. She was shivering uncontrollably. I had a small electric fire in the corner with just one bar turned on. I hurriedly dragged it across to the couch where I'd placed this miserable wretch and turned on the other two bars. I felt the increase in heat immediately, but, apparently, she didn't. It was clear she was suffering from some degree of hypothermia. But how the hell do you treat a hypothermia case? Well, reheat, obviously. Half-remembered instructions from some first-aid course I'd attended at Uni flickered through my mind. While I was trying to get those instructions into some kind of workable order and racking my brain for a good solution, I swept the sodden mass of hair away from her face.
That stricken face was a pale shade of blue, but not from the eyeliner and mascara that had streamed down her cheeks. It managed somehow to look up at me, apparently realizing help was at hand, and I found that I was looking into the pleading, hazel-coloured eyes of Julie, my mother.
Maybe it was the shock of seeing her, but what I had to do now clicked firmly into place.
I laid her down gently onto the couch. First thing - remove her wet clothing. No if's and but's. It wasn't as though there was much to remove anyway. But women's clothing has all these hidden facets, like fastenings which are not meant to be seen because to do so would spoil the look of the outfit. Well, bugger that. After a few moments looking in vain for the way her dress was put together, I simply put my two hands into her top and pulled it apart. It ripped open like tissue paper. I lifted it away from her and threw it to one side.
The lingerie she was wearing underneath came as no surprise. Perhaps because it was obvious through the soaked transparency of her flimsy dress, I'd already subconsciously noted when handling her that she was wearing black underneath. What was surprising was how sexy were the low-cut embroidered bra and high-rise panties. No time though. I reached behind her, unhooked her bra and slid the narrow straps off her shoulders and down her non-resisting arms. I threw that in the same direction as the dress. Her released breasts now lolled to either side of her rib cage. But no time. I hooked my fingers into the top of her pantyhose and lifting her bum, yanked downwards. They came off her together with her subconsciously-noted sexy panties, and then she was naked. No time, though.
I rushed across to the bathroom and yanked a big bath-towel out of the cupboard then rushed back to perform stage two: Dry her off. A few rubs of her hair but then I concentrated on her torso. I was tempted to rub vigorously up and down her arms and legs but I remembered I shouldn't do that. Apparently it can stress the heart and lungs. So I dabbed her dry and wrapped her in the towel. But no time, no time. I carried her, she was so light, through to the bedroom and I pulled the covers of the bed back and placed her as gently as possible into it and covered her. She was mumbling incoherently all the time. But that was good, wasn't it? If she'd completely lost consciousness I'd probably be hysterical. But no time, no time - need more heat, more blankets. I rushed back into the living-room and brought back the one I'd been using on the couch. Her head was exposed...so some sort of hat? I rummaged quickly through the drawers and found the bobble hat I wore to the footy. I pulled it down onto her head and over her ears. The bed was beginning to resemble a small hill with all the things I was piling on top of it, but when I pulled the hat on, it was like dressing a snowman.
There was nothing for it. I looked down at that suffering face and knew what I had to do. The best source of heat was... me. I pulled my shirt over my head, stepped out of my boxers and got into bed with my Mum. Now I knew what survivors of the Titanic must have felt like in the freezing water and having to share a plank with another frozen passenger.
I cuddled up to her. I tried to cover as much of her body as I could with mine. I breathed the hot air from my mouth into hers. She was mumbling. I, for my part, carried on an obviously one-sided conversation - "What the hell were you doing out on a night like this...We'll have you right in no time...I'd better ring Steve when I get the chance...." Her eyes seemed to open wide at this point and the shaking of her head seemed to indicate that this was a bad idea. But at least she was responding, right? I mean, she was taking in what I was saying. So I hugged her even closer, if that was possible, and continued whispering a stream of nonsense into her ear. I told her Mandy and I had broken up so I just happened to be on the lookout for someone to share my bed with, anyway. I just hadn't realized it was going to be her.
She seemed to feebly respond to this and put her arms around my neck. "No, no, you can't put your arms outside the bed, you've got to keep them covered..." so her cold hands cupped my bum instead. I was lying directly on top of her with my legs open so I could hold hers on the inside of my thighs. Her neatly trimmed bush (yes, I had taken a quick glance...) was frizzy against my cock. My cock with a mind of its own which couldn't understand why it was pushing up against a woman's pubis but not attempting entry.
That's because its owner himself was not yet seeing this woman as a sexual being but as someone who simply needed help. I continued talking, whispering into her ear, because maybe that might refocus the issue.
"I bet we'll be laughing about it by this time next year, I'll be saying things like, 'Yeah, that's my Mum, I don't really know how I was conceived, she's so cold in bed....yeah, she's frigid....'. No, I'm sorry, I'm not making light of this, I'm just trying to get you to stay with me, okay? Can you say something?"
She turned her head slightly towards me and I heard her whisper, "sorry...un...feelin' bitch...can't even feel ...toes..."
So I started to play footsie with her, trying to manipulate her toes under the blankets. I glimpsed the beginning of a smile.
But I was still worried, I felt she wasn't warming up at any good rate. Of course, the next thing: a warm drink was recommended as a fast way to get some heat inside - but NOT alcohol, no way. So, out of bed, quick, quick...milk, yeah. But if I put it in a pan it'd boil over, wouldn't it, 'cause I'd have to quickly get back to the bed while it heated up. Scratch head, umm...memories of helping an old girlfriend to babysit came back to me...pan of water to heat, milk in container stood in that, and...back to bed...she was still with me, phew...straddle her thawing body...five minutes? No, give it seven...out of bed, rush to the kitchen, water bubbling away merrily, take out the milk, take a sip. Not too hot but definitely hot enough...back to the bed...persuade her into some sort of recumbent position, offer up the milk to her lips...unsteadily at first, but then more confidently she drank it, even bringing one hand up to help steady the cup. A grateful smile. Now we're getting somewhere. Cup to one side, back to cuddling.
I was woken by the morning sun on my face.
I'd eventually fallen asleep last night after what was probably another couple of hours of holding my Mum and prattling on about everything and nothing just so she wouldn't fall asleep - I felt that could have been dangerous, but in the end it was so warm lying there next to her, on her, eventually feeling reciprocal heat from her body, and with that, the relaxation of my own fears, thinking - yeah, she's gonna be alright...
So. I felt across the bed. I was alone. I shot bolt-upright, wide awake. Where was Mum? I leapt out of bed and through to the living room. There was Mum sat quietly as could be at the dining table, dressed incongruously in one of my T-shirts and a pair of my running-shorts, scooping jam up onto a freshly-made slice of toast.
"'Morning. You want coffee? The water's just boiled..."
She got up and came towards me, grinning widely, threw her arms round my neck and crushed herself into me.
"Lifesaver."
I couldn't help it, I threw my own arms around her back and kissed into her now neatly-combed, shoulder-length hair, her ear, her cheek, and then my tongue was on her lips, prising them apart. She kissed me back, laughing into my mouth. Then she was kissing at my cheek and my neck. Then she pulled away.
"By the way..." and her hand reached down to flick my penis, "you might want to...?"
I looked down at my nakedness with its morning wood poking out brazenly between her legs.
"Oh, yeah...sorry..."
