Snowbound

Dedicated to Peter

Oh, God! Sometimes I just cannot believe what has happened to me!

I wake up every morning, thinking it was all a dream. But it isn't. I am in a cabin. A small, single room, rustic, little wooden cabin. Complete with an old, cast iron stove and plenty of firewood to keep me warm and cook my meals. A comfy down filled bed for me to sleep on and even a small kitchen in one corner were I can keep the few dishes and pans available to me. There's even a porcelain chamber pot waiting for me under the bed.

I then usually open the door and find it is still snowing. And I mean a heavy, freaking blizzard! I can never see more than twenty feet ahead. Everything is swirling, heavy snow and fog. Even at night, when I peek out with my oil lamp, all I can see is snow.

Of course I have a good reason for not going out in the stuff. See, I am naked. And if the fact I am a decently proportioned young lady wasn't enough, the fact it is bone-chilling C-O-L-D would be! You see, one thing this cabin did not come supplied with is clothes.

Well, let me amend that. I do have 'clothes', if you can call them that. Tight, belly cinching corsets and sheer, seamed stockings and skyscraper 'fuck me' heels. Did I mention the little makeup vanity where I can slick my lips with red lipstick and dust my cheeks with blusher?

It is a bizarre situation I have found myself in. Sometimes I sit and look out my window and try to remember how I got here.

I remember the party. It was December in Detroit, where the snow is a greasy black soot on the dirty streets. I was attending a gala hosted by one of the senior clients in our law firm. I remember drinking a little more than I should, and dancing with a stranger. A tall, handsome stranger with a face I just can't place.

Somewhere in the night, as we danced, I let myself melt into him. I hadn't had a steady guy in three years. When a woman is on the fast track to a full partnership by 35, you aren't allowed a personal life.

And then the music ended, and I headed home to my condo in Grosse Pointe, where I lived by myself.

I remember feeling dizzy, and thinking that if I got stopped by the police I would really be up the creek. Then everything went black...

The next thing I remember is waking up in this cabin.

I rummaged about, trying to put a logical spin on the situation. Maybe I'd had a wreck, and some local had found me and placed me here. Yeah, right. Naked? And where the hell was I? Canada? Northern Michigan? Winters here are brutal, but it doesn't snow its ass off every... freaking... day!!!

So everyday I would wake up and find fresh firewood by the stove, and plenty of canned goods and fresh food in the kitchen larder. I would eat the food and keep the fire stoked. Sometimes I would melt a few pots full of snow and take a bath in the small galvanized steel tub that sits in a corner. But mostly I would sit and wait for my mysterious benefactor to make his appearance.

Three days later, he did.

He knocked on the door one morning while I was making breakfast. I ran to the bed to grab a quilt to cover myself with, and then ran to the door.

He was there. Big and strong and handsome, in a heavy coat and boots and a hunter's cap. he stomped his feet on the porch and just walked right in, asking for some coffee.

I poured him his coffee and made him up some bacon and eggs and hash browns, all the while asking him the million and a a half questions burning in my mind. Questions he managed to brush off with a shrug, or else answer without really answering. He would've made a fine lawyer.

He said his name was James. Not Jim or Jimmy... but James.
When I told him i felt the same way about my name -Katherine- and that i despised being called Kate, or Katie, or Kathy... he promised me that he would always call me Katherine. I found that oddly comforting.

I begged him for some clothes, then I begged him to stay. He said he would be back, and then he left.

I felt lonely without him. I had been alone my whole life, so it shouldn't be bothering me now. But here it did.

Next morning I had breakfast waiting for him, I still wore the quilt because that's all I had. Except for 'those' clothes. He again knocked on the door and ate breakfast with me. We chatted and talked for hours, but not about the things I usually talk about, which is my career and my life and my politics and all those things I thought So Very Important.

Sometimes he would come by in the evenings. And we would sit by the stove and sip hot, mulled cider together.

One night, I decided to dress up for him. I bathed myself using sweetsoap and fresh snow water. I then cinched myself into one of the corsets, slipped on the stockings and heels, combed out my long brown hair and even used the makeup.

When he arrived, he grinned when he looked at me. I blushed and felt like I was back on my first date in high school.

He kissed me. And then we made love.

Everything kind blurs from this moment on. The days and nights run together. When he isn't here, I try to think of ways to please him. When we are in bed, I let him take control. He has shown me ways of lovemaking I could never had imagined, with the result being that a mild-mannered businesswoman has become a rather wanton harlot.

Yesterday, after I fixed him breakfast, I simply slipped down to my knees before him, placing my forehead on his leg. It felt so good. It felt so right.

Sometimes, I get so lonely for him, I get dressed up as best I can and strike out into the cold, snowy woods.

But everytime I do, I end up back at the cabin in less than a minute. Once I even left a trail of breadcrumbs and came back to the cabin to meet my own bread trail. Then I backtracked and followed my bread trail back to the cabin again!

I wonder about such oddities sometimes. Like I wonder how long I have been here. Days? Weeks? Years? How long does a winter last? Especially a winter where it snows forever and the snow never gets more that ankle deep.

I do know the answer to that. Sometimes, a wind comes along and blows the snow so hard that it seems to fly off the ground, to swirl about the cabin, which always stays so warm and comforting to me.

I have let my old life fade. This is home, this is where I wish to stay. I told James this the other day and he was very happy. He said he will keep me forever.

I love him so.

It is early evening, and I have dinner cooking in the stove. A pot roast with onions, carrots and potatoes, a tray of hot biscuits, coffee, and a little dandelion wine he brought me the other day.

I am dressed for him. My body seems to have blossomed in ways I can't explain. My breasts fuller, my tummy tighter, my bottom rounder... and embarrassingly enough, my nipples are hard and I am wet for him even now.

I wait by the window, my oil lamp by my side, waiting for him to arrive...

*******

At 5 pm on the dot, Maddie Hendrix walked into Mr. Dyson's office with the day's final reports. She considered herself a dedicated secretary, but when the 5 o'clock whistle blew, so did she.

He had the corner office looking down on the granite greyness of downtown Detroit and the suburbs beyond. It was a prized and coveted view to have, but Mr. Dyson never seemed interested in it.

"Anything else, Mr. Dyson?" she asked as she put the reports on his desk. She cocked her hip and smiled. Maddie knew she was a good looking, young black woman with all the right moves. And the chance to catch an executive on the rise like James Dyson was not to be missed.

But as always, he simply smiled and told her to have a nice evening, and that he would see her in the morning. She nodded and walked out, wondering for the umpteenth time about crazy white men.

James Dyson glanced over the reports, but then looked across his desk, where a large, handblown glass snow globe was sitting.

It was larger than most, about the size of a softball, and just a gentle shake caused the snow inside to swirl around forever. He could just make out the three-dimensional scene inside the glass.

A small cabin in the woods, with a light burning at one of the windows.

James Dyson grinned and locked the doors to his office.

It was almost time for dinner.

 Copyright © 1999 by Nicole

Copyright Michelle Williams