Snowed In

December Twenty-eighth

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Sherry,” Neal said. “What exactly are you accusing me of?”

“It’s real simple, Neal,” his wife spat, shaking her sleep-tousled head. “Were you playing with me last night?”

“Playing with you how? I can’t even get into your room, you know.”

“You could get through that lock if you wanted to.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Sherry,” he grumbled, though he hated himself for saying it. “I didn’t pick the lock, nor did I want to. And no, I wasn’t playing with you. I’m not allowed to, remember?”

She was silent a while, weighing his remarks, head in her hands at the table. Her robe was tied crookedly, her eyes bore dark lines beneath them -- she looked a mess.

“Look,” she said finally, her voice an unsteady croak. “I . . . I could’ve sworn that someone was with me last night. I thought it was you. It had to be you, Neal!”

“Jesus Christ, Sherry, it was not me! What makes you think it wasn’t a dream or something, anyway?”

“It just . . . didn’t feel like a dream,” she muttered.

“What time was it?”

“I don’t know. It was dark still. I don’t know, I was half asleep.”

“Uh huh. And what did he look like, this guy who was playing with you?”

“Neal, I don’t know! I didn’t get a look at his face. I told you, I was asleep.”

“Okay, Sher -- ‘you were asleep’ means ‘it was a dream’! Okay? It was a dream.”

But Sherry, still trying vainly to pin down her thoughts (thoughts? dreams? experiences?) from the night before, just couldn’t accept this. That stone still figure beside her bed, those hands on her body, touching, exploring. Familiar but different, welcome but wrong. She’d felt . . . touched that morning. Not just disoriented, but fondled, molested --

She held up her hands in frustration.

“It didn’t feel like a dream!”

“Yeah, well . . . maybe -- and don’t bite my head off --”

“Go on. Say it.”

“Maybe with everything you were on last night, you dreamed a little harder? Maybe you even hallucinated --”

“Oh fuck you, Neal!”

Neal threw up his hands. “Yeah, fuck me, I’m such an asshole. You’re boozing nonstop and popping pills like a groupie or something, but I’m the one who’s being unreasonable.”

He fell silent; she was crying into her hands, her shoulders trembling.

Outside the kitchen door, Vanessa bit her lip, shook her head.

“Josh, you son-of-a-bitch,” she whispered.

***

“Hey!” she said, prodding him hard. “

Hey!

Wake up, dammit!”

Her brother stirred a little, rolled over. He grinned at her toothily.

“Mmm,” he groaned sleepily. “Curbside service -- now that’s more like it.”

“What did you do?” she said sharply.

“What did I do? What the fuck are --”

“To Mom. What did you do?”

“Nothing. To Mom? What are you talking about --”

“Bullshit, nothing! You snuck into her room, didn’t you?”

Josh waved his arms about mockingly, said in a girly voice: “Oh, I didn’t do anything with Daddy, Josh! I just slept with him tuz I was sooo told!”

“God damn it, you fucker --” She hammered at him several times, hurting her wrist against his hard shoulder. Grinning, he grabbed her hands in his stronger ones, planted a kiss on her lips while she squirmed. She broke away after kicking his shins and leapt back against the door.

“Don’t even think about it, you asshole!” she snarled. “Tell me what you did.”

Her brother shrugged and lay back on the bed again, casually crossing one leg over the other.

“I just paid her a little visit, that’s all. Nothing serious.”

“You didn’t.”

He laughed at her. “Okay, I didn’t. You’re the one making accusations, sweetheart.”

“Josh, you went and messed with her last night? For real?”

“I just told you I did.”

“And did she know it? Did she wake up, did she recognize you --”

“Are you kidding? The way she’s been tripping lately? I coulda buttfucked her and she wouldn’t have known it.” He stroked his cock through his briefs carelessly.

“Mom keeps on trippin’, trippin’, trippin’, into the futuuure . . . ”

“Well, she’s downstairs telling Dad about it right now, smartass,” said Vanessa.

He stopped singing.

“No kidding? What’s she say?”

“That someone was playing with her last night. She thought it was Dad at first. Now she’s crying about it.”

“Aw, shit. I didn’t mean to make her cry. Hell, I thought she was liking it.”

“You’re such a selfish ass, Josh.”

“Oh yeah, I’m terrible. Of course, we both know it couldn’t have been Dad playing with her cuz Dad was playing with you, wasn’t he?”

“Fuck you.”

“Wasn’t he? Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He lay back again and pulled out his cock, stroking it languidly. “She looks pretty good naked, you know? Not as good as you, baby, but then she’s got twenty years on you. She’s got nice big titties, big nipples like you. Waaay hairy pussy.”

“Josh, I did not come up her to watch you jack off! Just promise me you won’t mess with her again.”

“I’m not promising you shit. Here, you want me to promise something?” He waved his hardening dick in her direction. “Come lick this and I promise not to mess with her again.”

“Oh, you fucking wish.”

He shrugged.

“’Kay. I’ll just have to drop by again tonight, then.”

Vanessa clung to the door, frustrated at her powerlessness. Her brother ignored her, went back to stroking himself. Finally she left.

***

Neal caught up with her that afternoon when she was getting out of the shower. He knocked softly and said “It’s me,” and she let him in as quietly as she could. Once the door was closed he was all over her, touching and stroking her body through the towel, kissing her deep and passionately. His kisses, his groping hands, his energy swiftly awakened her sex, and she felt her knees weaken beneath her. Still, she knew it was too risky at this time of day, and she eventually succeeded in holding him at arm’s length.

“Where’s everyone else?” she whispered.

“They’re in the kitchen, playing Checkers. At least Josh is playing; your mother’s just kinda there.”

“You better get back down -- one of them might come looking for you.”

“I know, baby, but I had to see you,” he said, reaching out to stroke her breasts. “I’ve been dying to be with you all day.”

“Oh God, I know, Daddy -- me too. But you can’t stay in here. We could never explain it -- we might get caught.”

“I know. Here, just let me have a quick suck --”

She lowered her towel obediently and he sucked a nipple into his mouth, stooping, while she stroked his hair.

“Oh shit,” she whispered. “You’re getting me wet . . . ”

“Mmm . . . you smell nice,” he mumbled contentedly.

“Mmmf, aw shit! -- Daddy -- you gotta go! Someone might --”

BAM! BAM! BAM!

A huge knocking at the door, inches away from them. Vanessa’s blood froze, while her father straightened so quickly his back popped.

“Hey Ness, is Dad in there?” came Josh’s voice.

The two of them stared at each other, Neal’s face a mask of panic.

“Um -- no. I’m taking a shower,” she replied.

“Oh, okay. Well, tell him the power just came back on.”

The sounds of his steps down the hall -- sounds they hadn’t heard somehow when he came to the door. Her father’s face was full of troubled questions, terrified conclusions. Vanessa tried to make light of it, flicking on the switch to light the room.

“Yay,” she said, smiling lamely.

“He -- how did he know --” Neal tried to say.

“Hurry up and get downstairs,” she ordered, kissing him dismissively. “We’ll get together later. I promise.”

She rushed her father out the door and locked it, stood for a while in front of the heater vent, now pouring out warmth for the first time in days.

That fucker, Josh. He was playing mean and he was playing dirty. He obviously didn’t care what happened, as long as he got his.

“Stupid mother fucker,” she said aloud -- and then she swallowed hard as the words sunk in. If she didn’t do something fast, that’s exactly what he would be.

***

The return of electricity was an extremely mixed blessing, at least for Neal. On the one hand, it meant they could get out of the kitchen, didn’t have to endure each other within a twenty by fifteen foot space. And the television was soon up and running again, the cable was back on. Josh, Nessa and Sherry soon got lost in front of it in the den, making up for the recent drought by vegging for hours with Fred Flintstone, Archie Bunker, Barney Miller, Johnny Fever . . .

On the other hand, the return of heat completely destroyed any possible excuse for sleeping with Vanessa that night. She couldn’t say to any unforeseen intruder that she was just trying to get warm. So anything that happened between them would have to happen very sneakily.

Not that Neal thought excuses would do much good anyway -- not with his son. He was still puzzling over Josh’s remark from the other side of the bathroom door that afternoon. It made no sense, unless

he knew

Neal was inside.

Is Dad in there? -- No -- Okay, then tell him the power’s on.

What the hell? Why did he respond that way? Why would he think they were together in the bathroom in the first place? They never had been before. And how come they didn’t hear him come to the door? Granted, he had been greatly preoccupied with sucking Nessa’s tit -- but they should have heard something . . . unless he snuck up to the door, in which case, what the hell did that mean?

Neither his son’s eyes, when he could catch them, nor his mannerisms told Neal anything. True, the boy had given him a few significant glances days ago -- but that was well before anything happened with Vanessa. Had he seen them together somehow? Heard them last night? Neal tried to imagine his chronically lazy son rising at four in the morning to listen at the office door and couldn’t. Josh lived in his bed. He’d probably never even seen a sun rise, just thought someone switched it on. It was inconceivable that he should be spying on them, or at least, that he could catch on so soon. And Vanessa certainly wouldn’t have told him.

Still, why that loaded question? Why sneak up to the bathroom door? It seemed obvious he knew something -- but what?

Neal rested his forehead against the cold windowpane in the living room, stared out at the eternal whiteness. Oh, this was awful, this was too much like cheating -- always asking questions, wondering if Sherry was catching on. Maybe the snow would begin to melt soon -- then he and Nessa could sneak away for a while. They could go into Fulmer, or even into Tampa perhaps, get a room . . . It seemed absurd, plotting such nefarious activities -- which belonged in his mind to his Melanie phase -- with his own daughter. But at some point during the day he had chosen quite consciously not to think too much about what he was doing. Their night together had been unbelievable, ecstatic -- the most mind-blowing night he’d ever spent with a woman, any woman. Whether his excitement occurred in spite of their being father and daughter, or whether it stemmed from that very fact, he didn’t know. Maybe it would all catch up with him and his life would be ruined. Maybe he’d go crazy, unable to cope with his disgusting perversion. If there was a hell he was definitely going, he knew that. But even if he couldn’t adopt such a casual, devil-may-care attitude about their sex, as Nessa could, he knew he wanted more of it. Maybe with the thaw, they could find a way to fuck each other in more secure surroundings. The big house was suddenly shrinking in on him.

But even as he stood in the glow of the Christmas tree, watching and hoping, the little flakes began to flutter down again, damning them all to their confinement.

***

For the first time in days, Vanessa took Jasper out that evening without telling her brother. But he followed her out anyway, he’d been watching her. When she didn’t head for the barn he grabbed her ass, even though they were well within the view of the living room windows.

“Cut it out!’ she said, smacking his hand.

“Oh, so now I don’t get to touch you at all? Now that you’re Daddy’s little girl?”

“Just stop it. Someone’ll see, you asshole.”

“Oh boo hoo, someone might see. I really don’t give a fuck anymore, Ness. Let ‘em see. I mean, you’re doing Dad and I’m doing Mom. Who’s gonna object?”

She looked at him hard through the cascading snowflakes.

“You’re not doing Mom,” she said. “You said you just touched her.”

“I put my fingers in her a little bit. She liked it, I think -- her ass lifted off the bed and she moaned. Nice wet, fat, hairy pussy -- looked good. Maybe I’ll have a little taste tonight . . . ”

“Josh!”

“By the way, I notice you didn’t dispute me about Dad. You really are fucking him now, aren’t you?”

“Fuck off!”

“Was it good, Ness? Was it everything you hoped for?”

“Leave me alone!”

Suddenly he had grabbed her wrist, was wrenching it painfully, thrusting her up against the barn. Jasper turned about and stared at them worriedly.

“I’m not gonna leave you alone, you little cunt!” he hissed into her face between his teeth. “You can fuck him and me if you want, but you’re not gonna fuck him instead of me. You got that?”

“Let me go, dammit! You’re hurting me!”

“Have you got that?” he snarled, his eyes flashing.

“Yes, okay! Okay! Let me go . . . ”

Jasper whined at the pain in her voice, growled suspiciously at Josh.

“Now let me tell you what you’re gonna do,” he said, releasing her wrist to unzip his pants. “You’re gonna go down on me right here, right now, and you’re gonna suck up all my cum and you’re gonna like it. Then you’re gonna come to my bed tonight. Understand?”

Vanessa nodded, watching his fingers pulling his erection out of his pants. She was cold and she was annoyed, and she was certainly in no mood to service her brother, least of all where someone might see them at it. But she was also a little afraid of him -- he made a habit of being a rude asshole, but she had never seen him this angry, this forceful and mean.

When she dropped to her knees he gave her shoulder a shove and grunted masterfully -- that was more than enough for Jasper.

In a flash he was all over Josh, growling like a demon from hell, flailing about with his claws, snapping with bared fangs while Josh rolled to get away from him. It took her almost a full minute to get him under control again, and by that time Josh had scratches all over his hands and forearms, a gash on his cheek, and a shroud of snow all over his dick.

She laughed while he cursed and fumed and threatened. But it wasn’t a laughing matter. She got back inside as quickly as she could.

***

“Oh my God!” cried Sherry, rising from the couch. “Joshua Lawrence, what the hell did you do?”

Her snowy son, wiping blood from his cheek with a scratched-up hand, shrugged sheepishly. “Aw, I fell down outside, taking Jasper out. Slipped. In the snow. And I, uh, fell in some brambles.”

“Well, crap, just look at you! You shouldn’t be outside anyway -- Vanessa, why didn’t you take him out? He’s your dog.”

“I did take him out,” her daughter replied, with what was perhaps the ghost of a smile playing around her lips. “He wanted to tag along.”

Sherry clicked her tongue and shook her head, which was throbbing.

“Well, go up and put some peroxide on it. Honestly, you’re sick, Josh. Don’t go outside anymore till you’re better.”

While he trudged up the stairs, Sherry surveyed her daughter, who was definitely laughing at something, yet who also looked a bit worried, a bit troubled.

“What’s up?” she asked her frankly, not inclined to mince words. That was one very good thing about alcohol; it made a person bold.

“Nothing,” claimed Vanessa.

“No, I saw you laughing at your brother. You think it’s funny he hurt himself?”

Vanessa pushed her hair back with a scowl.

“He deserved it. He was . . . picking on Jasper.”

“Picking on him how?”

“Mom, I don’t know. Antagonizing him.”

Surely it proved something, she thought, that she could tell Vanessa was lying. Surely that demonstrated that she was in no drug-induced haze, the way her husband wanted her to believe. She was sharp enough to smell something up between her two children, though she couldn’t tell what.

If only you could talk,

she thought, stroking Jasper’s cold head.

Watching the whole conversation from his chair, Neal tried to transmit his own messages to Vanessa unsuccessfully:

What’s going on between you and Josh? Why did he follow you outside? Why does he always follow you outside? The dog quite obviously attacked the boy -- that was a claw mark on his cheek. But why?

But his daughter, who had spoken so much about trust the night before, refused to meet his eyes, and left him to stew in his own speculations. A little later, when he caught her alone in the den, he leaned across the coffee table to whisper to her.

“What happened? Outside, with Josh?”

Nessa looked confused and evasive for an instant, then shook her head.

“Nothing. He just slipped, that’s all,” she lied.

Neal watched her trying to ignore him for a while, pretending to focus on the TV.

“Are you going to come see me tonight?” he asked in a low voice.

Again she appeared unsure, evasive. “I’m gonna try. It might not be easy.”

“Why?”

She shrugged, glancing furtively down the hallway.

“With the power back on, I mean. I can’t just say I was cold now.”

He nodded to himself; so she had thought of that too. Of course, this was the same girl that had led him into his office only the night before to fuck him for hours. No amount of cold could have explained a locked door and the raucous sounds of sex behind it if Sherry had stumbled upon them.

She was worried, all right -- but not about the power being back on. There was something going on between her and Josh. Neal suspected he knew what.

Somehow, God only knew, the boy had found out about them, just that quick. Perhaps he had been outside that office door, after all. Was he threatening to tell Sherry? Maybe he was trying blackmail Nessa in some way? Something ugly had passed between them outside, something that put that fearful look in his daughter’s eyes, and, he supposed, caused Jasper to rip into the boy. Old Jasper was not the best watchdog in the world, but he was fiercely protective of Nessa. All Josh might have to do was raise his voice to put himself in dutch with the mutt.

That was assuredly the scenario, or some close variation of it. Neal decided not to pressure Nessa quite so much; she was probably as scared shitless of Sherry finding out as he was. God damn that son of his!

“Just find some way to come down for a little while, as early as you can,” he whispered. “We need to talk.”

***

Sherry retired at about ten, toyed with the idea of lying awake to watch TV, wrote it off as pointless. Whether she was becoming some kind of junkie or not, she recognized that, despite a brief lift in her spirits, she had now settled into a whole new category of despair. Oddly enough, it may have had as much to do with the big rubber dick Vanessa had given her as anything else. She wasn’t Vanessa. She couldn’t get used to sticking some foreign object into her for pleasure, no matter how nice it felt. She also couldn’t reconcile herself to cheating on her husband -- not that there was anyone to cheat with, anyhow. So, there it was. Neal had his fun; she had only despondency and gloom.

The only thing she was determined not to do was eat her head off, tempting as that was. She hadn’t developed her skimpy eating habits and worked for what was left of her figure to throw it all away over Neal. Besides, it was her mind, not her body, that she wished to escape. So drink and painkillers were the way to go for now, no matter how much her smug husband might disapprove.

At ten thirty Vanessa knocked on her mother’s door and was beckoned in. Her mother looked absolutely awful: haggard, tired, spent and anxious all in one. Vanessa sat on the edge of her bed and held her hand, chatting with her for a time. She felt like she was visiting in a hospital, so fundamentally unwell did her mother look. They talked about trifles, since Sherry’s state of mind was touch and go at best (there was an empty Scotch bottle on the bedside table, Vanessa noted). When they had exhausted every relatively harmless subject, she kissed her mother and rose to leave.