The snow tumbled from the sky like a curtain in big, wet flakes that
glittered in the porch light and added layer after layer to the smooth,
edgeless blanket that tried to swallow the world. From time to time,
trees capitulated under the weight and threw their branches to the
ground with a final, resonating gun shot, or faltered altogether with a
cannon blast. The startled jerks and hammering heartbeat were the only
things that broke Carol’s miserable monotony while she stared out of the
blurred window into the white-gray nothingness and watched through
red-rimmed eyes as the snow climbed above the window sill.
Her
mood was just like the snow - gray, heavy and cold. It should have been
the best Christmas ever. Now she sat there, alone, the ambers of the
fire in the hearth behind her dead, and wrapped her blanket tighter
around herself, unable to dispel the chill from her heart.
“Going to be a day late. Missed flight. Driving up there by myself.
” Was that the message you wrote your fiancĂ©e when you needed to tell
her that you’d be late for your first real, romantic holiday together --
for the long-awaited, cozy Christmas week in a remote mountain cabin?
Of course it wasn’t.
How he could not have expected her to call
him after that, she had no clue. Or perhaps he had, subconsciously.
Perhaps this had been his way to tell her that sorry, it just didn’t
work for him. The giggling, female voice that had answered her on his
fixed phone had been like a punch into her face and guts. But when she
had asked for Fernando and Miss Giggles had called out for loverboy, she
had felt her heart freeze and shatter, piece by piece, with agonizing
pain.
“Don’t bother coming.” It had been a single wave of
wounded rage that had kept her voice steady enough to say the words --
before the tsunami of misery following in its wake tore apart her world.
She had hung up the phone, and there had been nothing. No frantic call
back. No message begging her to talk. Just silence, a broken heart and
tears streaming in rivers down her face.
* * * *
The
snow was halfway up the windows. Candles flickered and made the room
look far warmer than it felt. Carol’s stomach grumbled, but she couldn’t
find the energy to get up. A knock sounded.
She should go to
the door. But there couldn’t be anybody outside, not on Christmas Eve
with the snow already four feet high and still falling. Her fantasy was
playing games; loneliness was no doubt making her imagine things.
Another series of knocks broke the silence, loud, insistent. She turned
her head around and looked at the door. “Wha…” Her voice was inaudible,
raw from crying.
The knocking turned into a pounding. “Hello?” a muffled male voice asked from outside. “Is there anybody inside? Hello?”
* * * *
A deep trench, almost a canyon, wound its way through the snow, and the
older couple standing in front of Carol’s door, clad in thick down
jackets and with their cheeks reddened by the exertion in the cold,
looked relieved. They were both breathing hard and leaning on their snow
shovels.
Carol vaguely remembered their faces. “Hello,” she
finally managed to stammer, and even as she spoke, the names came back
to her. “Mr. and Mrs. Preston.” The tumbling snowflakes gave the scene a
blurry appearance.
“June. Please call me June, and he’s Edgar.
We’re neighbors, after all. You’re Carol, aren’t you?” The woman smiled
brightly, and her breath came out in puffs of mist. A few blond curls
clung wetly to her forehead under the jacket’s hood.
“I’m… yes. I remember you. Dad fixed your car once.”
The man, Edgar, chuckled. “That he did. I’d been trying to get it
running for a whole day. Took him all of five minutes.” He looked her up
and down. “We saw your car and the smoke from the chimney, but then the
smoke stopped, though your car’s still up the lane. Are you okay? Are
you here alone?”
“I… yes.” It was hard for Carol not to start crying again. “My fiancĂ© was supposed to come too.”
“Oh.” June gave her a look of sympathy. “They closed the roads a few hours ago.”
“I don’t care!” Carol’s breath hitched. “I’m sorry,” she hastily added.
“It’s just that…” She looked at the single wooden step in front of her
that the snow already tried to claim once again.
“You had a falling out.” It wasn’t a question.
“How…?”
“Your eyes are red and puffy. We saw you crying through the window.”
As if the mere mentioning of the word had open a valve, fresh tears
streaked down Carol’s cheeks. She hated that she couldn’t hold it
together, but the frozen fingers of loneliness crushed her heart once
again.
“Oh my!”
The wooden shaft of the shovel clanked
on the cobbles, and then arms wrapped around her and pulled her into a
tight hug. A scent of female perfume and sweat filled her nostrils. Sobs
shook her, but a soothing hand travelled up and down her back.
“Nobody should be alone for Christmas. You’re coming with us.” June’s
tone left no room for discussion. “But first, we’ll go inside and close
the door. You have to be freezing in just your pajama, girl!”
“I… oh…” Flustered, Carol extricated herself from the embrace and took a
step backwards. “I’m sorry, you have to be freezing yourself. Come in.”
Edgar had already leaned the shovels against the porch railing, and the
two of them quickly stepped out of their boots and onto the lush
carpet. Once the door shut behind them, Carol nervously looked around,
for the first time in days noticing that the living room was quite a
mess. “Sorry, I didn’t have much energy for tidying up.”
“And
that’s understandable.” June stood next to her, one hand on Carol’s
shoulder. “Why don’t you pack your things and jump into some warmer
clothes, and we’ll head over. It’s rather cold here.”
“I had blankets.” Carol’s defense fell short against the twinkle in her older neighbor’s eye.
“Oh my god!” Edgar exclaimed far too loud. “Is that an original?” He
crossed the room with a few long steps and crouched down in front of the
wooden statue Carol’s mother and father had quarreled about so often.
“Not really. But it’s been made at the end of the nineteenth century.”
She felt her cheeks grow hot, watching Edgar admire the lewd ebony
statue. “Mom always argued that it was indecent, but Dad insisted on
having it out in the open. I never got around to stowing it away.”
“And I’m glad.” Edgar’s voice was nothing more than a deep whisper.
“She’s beautiful.” He ran a finger down the horned, wooden goddess, over
her full, naked breasts and between her lewdly splayed legs.
As
her neighbor’s finger caressed the statue in such a loving, almost
sexual way, Carol became aware of her own state of being under-dressed.
“I… I should really put something on. I haven’t unpacked much. I’ll be
just a minute.”
The tightening of June’s fingers around her
shoulder stopped her. “You don’t need to hurry.” She winked. “If there
are two things that can keep my Edgar happy and occupied, it’s Egyptian
history and naked women.”
Carol’s blush intensified, and she quickly headed to her bedroom.
* * * *
“...and this will be your room.”
“It’s lovely.” It was, really. Unlike the rest of the Preston’s cabin,
which was all sheepskins and wood, the small room towards the back had
two red-bricked walls and a four-poster bed with intricate ornaments and
airy, transparent veils. “It’s like a princess’ quarters in a castle.”
June chuckled. “That might be because Edgar modelled it for his princess.”
“You have a daughter?”
“Yes, her name’s Amy. She has to be about your age. It’s a pity you never met. She’s twenty-three.”
Carol bit her lip while she stowed away her clothes in the dark wooden
wardrobe, wondering if she should ask the question. But she was curious
now. “She’s not coming here for Christmas?”
“Not this year. She lives with her husband in Australia. They visit us over the holidays every other year though.”
* * * *
They had spent the night in front of the fireplace, wrapped in thick
woolen blankets, eating home-made cookies, sipping hot punch and sharing
stories of past times at the cabins. Whenever June and Edgar had shared
a particularly funny moment, they had sent each other loving smiles and
winks, and the small touches that accompanied those always sent small
stabs through Carol’s heart. But the laughter over -- in hindsight --
hilarious mishaps had more than weighed up these reminders of her
loneliness, and when Carol had made her tipsy way to bed, she had felt
relaxed for what had felt like the first time in ages.
She awoke
to a soft bumping sound and had to blink a few times to realize where
she was. The soft, bluish moonlight reflected on the snow and tinged the
room in a mysterious glow. Something creaked, and more bumping
followed, soft thuds.
Suddenly wide awake, Carol extricated
herself from the blanket and slipped into the felt shoes. They were
really ugly, but they were soft and warm. She tip-toed into the hallway
to get herself a glass of water, but with each step, the thumping sound
got louder.
When she was about to pass the Preston’s bedroom,
she noticed the door slightly ajar and couldn’t stop herself from taking
a peek. She almost gasped aloud and put a hand across her mouth.
Both were naked. June was on all fours in the middle of the huge bed,
with her eyes closed and her head thrown back in ecstatic bliss. Behind
her, Edgar knelt with his hands around her hips and pushed her slowly
back and forth. She couldn’t see his groin, but there was no doubt what
Carol was witnessing.
She had never considered herself a voyeur.
But these two bodies, in all their slightly pudgy imperfection, were
beautiful in the moonlight. June’s big breasts dangled rhythmically in
the shape of long, perfect, round cones tipped with dark, long nipples,
and gasps and grunts accompanied their dance of love. The looks of
passion on their faces were breathtakingly beautiful.
Moisture
coated Carol’s fingers and a moan almost escaped her lips. A guilty
blush spread over her cheeks when she realized where her hand had
strayed. She shouldn’t be doing this! But the rhythm sped up, the
creaking and thumping intensifying just like the moans and grunts did.
“Oh god yes, baby, yes, give it to me! God, this feels so good!
Harder!” June’s moaned encouragement was shaken by pleasured hitches in
her breath.
“I love you!” Edgar grunted in reply, pushing himself hard into her and drawing a moan of delight.
Carol’s own fingers danced between her thighs, delved into the wetness.
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