It was late in the season and the mountain blizzard had come upon them unexpectedly. They had got to the cabin just in time and once inside the blizzard seemed to rise to its full fury as if angered at being denied its victims.
The door closed they looked at the familiar sight. They had been there many times in every season of the year; it had been a favourite holiday venue, but they had never known such weather before.
Some logs and kindling was stacked beside the pot bellied stove and Steve set about starting the fire while Flower went to the kitchen - an obviously later addition to the cabin -- to get the wood range going ready for an evening meal.
The fire in the pot bellied stove started and Steve braved the elements and went to the car parked a few metres from the cabin and began to bring in their clothing and supplies, the supplies intended to last for the fortnight of their stay.
Finishing the task Steve entered the cabin and shook the snow from his anorak and stood for a while watching Flower as she unpacked the supplies. It had been she who had suggested they go to the cabin, but he had not been very enthusiastic since he'd had other plans for the vacation, but he'd finally agreed because otherwise Flower would have been on her own at the cabin.
Originally she was supposed to come with Jim, but at the last minute Jim had to cancel out for what he called "business reasons;" it was then Flower had almost begged Steve to come with her.
It was early spring and the intention had been to engage in some bush walking and climbing. Steve wondered how she was feeling now that the unseasonable snow storm had come raging in and what they would do if they got completely snowed in.
He joined Flower in the cramped kitchen and got the kerosene refrigerator started, then leaving Flower to load the perishables into the refrigerator, and realising they were in for a bitterly cold night, he made another sally outside to get more logs for the fire and cooking stove. He silently blessed Jim for having cut up a big supply of logs during the last time he had been there.
Having made several trips to the wood heap Steve once more shook the snow off and warmed himself by the stove.
He could see into the kitchen and he watched Flower stirring something in a large saucepan. As so often in the past he was captivated by her movements that even when engaged in such a mundane task as stirring something in a saucepan, were graceful and almost dance-like.
She opened the fire door of the oven to replenish the fuel and as she bent her long auburn hair hung down glowing golden in the light of the fire, and to Steve it seemed in danger of catching fire. He went to her and said, "For God's sake Flower tie your hair back when you're working over that oven or it'll catch alight."
She stood up straight, smiled at him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, and said, "I put out some things on the bed, there should be a hair ribbon among them, get it for me, will you."
He left her to hunt among the items of clothing she had not yet stowed away. There were delicate panties, bras and a couple of flimsy looking nightdresses which he thought singularly inappropriate given the weather outside. Nevertheless, seeing these tantalizing items of female clothing caused a tingling sensation in his groin.
She'd frequently had that affect on him ever since he had entered those teen years of raging hormones, often leaving him frustrated and angry that she could so easily arouse him.
He was thankful it was not summertime when in past years he had often dutifully accompanied her and Jim to the beach and Flower wore what he understood was called a "Mini Micro Bikini." He had sometimes wondered if she wore this for Jim's benefit or simply to tease him, Steve. Perhaps she knew how easily she could arouse him and enjoyed his discomfiture.
He found the ribbon and returned to Flower. Instead of taking it from him she said, "You put it on for me."
He stood behind her gathering her long silken hair and with hands trembling slightly he tied the ribbon. Even dressed as she was in corduroy trousers, strong hiking boots, a padded jacket and a shirt, her superb figure could not be completely obscured. In Steve's eyes even this rough garb made her almost as sexy as when she wore the bikini, but then, his were the eyes of one who had long been in love with her despite the anger and frustration she could inspire in him.
It was there now, the desire for her, his penis grown long and hard. As he tied the ribbon her back was to him and when he finished tying it she bent forward to attend to something on the stove and pressed back against him. He wanted to pull her to him and press his manhood against her firm high buttocks, but as on many similar occasions in the past he dared not.
He turned away as Flower said, "Get out the cutlery and bring me a couple of plates, Steve."
What is it?" he asked, glancing into the saucepan.
"Irish stew," Flower replied. He knew she had prepared a number of dishes in advance to save too much meal preparation at the cabin and had brought them in the foam freezer boxes.
* * * * * * * *
He held out the plates to her and she ladled stew onto them and then they went into the main cabin to eat at the old deal table.
The pot bellied stove had done its job effectively; the cabin was warm, a trifle too warm, and Flower removed her jacket. The swell of her breasts was clearly visible against the cloth of her shirt.
Steve removed his own coat and felt the familiar jolt in the pit of his stomach as he looked at her. She was gazing back at him, with her long lidded green eyes, an enigmatic smile on her lips and seemed about to say something, but instead she sighed, sat down and began to eat.
They ate in silence for a while. Had Jim been with them there would be a constant stream of chatter from him always related to what he called, "the bottom line." For all of his conscious life Steve seemed to have heard about the bottom line, the triumphal trumpeting of profits made and profits yet to come.
Sometimes Steve had wondered if there was anything in Jim's life other than the bottom line. For example, did he make love with Flower when they went to bed?
Steve had often lain awake listening for the sounds that would indicate they were "doing it," but had heard nothing. Here in the cabin there was every chance of detecting any coitus taking place. The room that he had always slept in was another tacked on afterthought, along with the shower recess, both screened off by curtains.
Apart from these additions there was only the main room with at one end the matrimonial double bed. Any snore, grunt, moan, whimper or expression of love and desire lovers are wont to use during sexual intercourse would have been instantly audible to Steve in his alcove. All he had ever detected were Jim's stentorian snores that erupted occasionally.
Was it possible that Jim could resist, or even did not desire, beautiful Flower? Of course it was equally possible that Flower had no desire for Jim and had rejected him to the point where he had given up trying. If that was the case, why did they still sleep together, or remain married to each other for that matter? This was a mystery Steve had never been able to plumb.
"If she were mine..." Steve would think, but what was the use, she wasn't his and never could be.
For Steve Jim's absence was a relief, but the silence between him and Flower became oppressive and he struggled to find something to say. When he did speak it was about the obvious.
"The weather..." he began.
"Didn't expect this," Flower interrupted. "Do you think we'll be snowed in?"
"Could be," Steve replied, and as if to confirm this the wind seemed to take on new energy as it hurled itself against the cabin.
"Well, at least we can be comfortable in here," Flower said cheerfully. "We won't be able to do much hiking, but when the storm dies down we might drive up to the ski slopes and do some skiing."
One of the advantages of the cabin was its proximity to the ski slopes that were only a few kilometres farther into the mountains and they had frequently gone to the slopes when they paid a winter visit to the cabin.
"Perhaps," Steve said morosely, as he listened to the raging wind.
"What shall we do this evening?" Flower asked brightly.
Choice was somewhat limited. There was a television set, but the surrounding mountains made reception uncertain, and the only clear station was a local commercial that specialised in inanities. There was a small battery radio but this too was given to fading in and out. Apart from that there were only a few board and card games.
Steve didn't answer her question but rising from the table said, "Why don't I do the washing up while you take a shower?"
"Thanks darling," I think I will," Flower said brightly, and then as if answering her own question went on, "we can spend a quiet evening just enjoying each other's company."
* * * * * * * *
Steve cleared away and washed up and then as it was growing dark he lit a couple of candles. Since there was no gas or electricity candles and a kerosene pressure lamp were the only means of illumination. Jim had always talked about getting gas and electricity laid on, but had never got around to it.
"Probably doesn't fit in with his bottom line," Steve thought cynically.
Carrying one of the candles he went to his room and tucked away the things he had previously left strewn over the single bed. Apart from the need to put these things away if he was to use the bed for sleeping, he felt that he needed to give Flower the privacy in which she could undress or dress.
He listened to the dull hiss of the water tank supplied shower, the hot water being provided by a back boiler in the kitchen stove. When the sound of running water ceased he gave it a few more minutes and re-entered the main room. Flower, wrapped in a woolen dressing gown was curled up in one of the three battered armchairs, relics from the early days of her first home with Jim some twenty years ago.
Steve placed the candle on the table and for a few moments looked at Flower. "It's true," he thought, "Women do look their best in candlelight," although to his mind Flower needed little enhancement of her beauty.
"I'll have a shower," he said.
"I hope I didn't use too much hot water," Flower said. The supply of hot water from the boiler was inclined to be uncertain.
Unlike Steve, Flower did not hide herself away from him. He went back to his room, undressed, wrapped a towel round his waist and then ran the gauntlet of Flower's frank stare as he went into the shower. He'd noticed for some time that she seemed to take an inordinate interest in his partially clad body. He wondered what she would do if he suddenly appeared before her naked.
