Winter of Discontent

The other arm was across her and my hand was on one of her breasts. I could feel the lace of her bra under my hand and there was a hard little bump in the middle. I wanted to pull my hand away. I wanted to pull away from that firm little butt pressing against me. Her arm was on top of mine, holding me in place. The thought of those little red panties was running through my mind, causing things to happen.

I started to pull my arm gently away and she clutched my hand, pressing it against her breast. I froze and she slowly became aware. She turned and looked up at me. Her eyes were spectacular in the light from the dying fire and the sunlight from the mouth of the cave. They were a deep, cobalt blue and I swear there were violet tints in them. I learned later that they changed color. The violet came creeping in when she was excited and they turned almost grey if she was sad. Greenish was when she was angry and the deep blue was just normal.

She slowly released my hand and raised her arm.

I pulled mine out from under hers. "I'm sorry, Caden. I didn't mean to feel you up."

"I know," she said. "It's okay. I liked it, but don't do it on purpose. I'm hungry, thirsty and I need to pee."

"Which do you want to take care of first?"

"Pee," she said.

"Okay, let's get your cold gear back on. I'll build up the fire and then help you back farther inside. Call me when you're through and I'll help you back. I'll follow you and then do something about the hunger and thirst."

I built the fire into a roaring blaze. We dressed her and I hated seeing all that golden skin disappear. She sensed my disappointment and laughed. "You can look at me all you want until I get well."

"Really? I'm looking forward to it."

I helped her around the corner and rummaged around in my bag a little. She called me and I helped her back to the bag. I did my business and opened up my bag. I fed the dogs and got out the supplies I had.

I cooked chunks of bacon while she toasted bread and put cheese on the slices she cut with my knife. I let the bacon drip on the bread.

We ate everything I had and drank two bottles of water each.

"This is good," she said.

"A bit of onion and an egg would have been nice," I said. "I'd like a cup of coffee, too. How are you feeling?"

"My head aches like hell and my leg is killing me," she said.

"Are you allergic to Percodan?" I asked.

"No, why? Do you have some?"

"Yes, I have two."

"Jesus, why didn't you tell me, Macalastair? I hurt all night. My whole body hurts."

"I wanted to know if you had any other injuries. The drugs would have masked that. Do you have any other injuries?"

"I have a pain in the ass," she said. "His name is Macalastair. Give me one of those pills."

She swallowed it as I chuckled. In fifteen minutes she was high and felt like getting dressed. I packed up and put out the fire. I had to leave the skis. I put the snowshoes on and helped her out of the cave. The snow had stopped and the sun was shining, but it was cold as hell. She began to shiver almost immediately and I wrapped her up again in the blanked and tarp. I put her over my shoulder and started walking.

It was murder. We were so heavy that even the snowshoes didn't help much. I broke through into two feet of show on every step. I was in shape. If I wasn't, I wouldn't have made it. As it was, I had to stop and rest a dozen times and about half a mile from the house I started to sweat. She was shivering uncontrollably and I knew I had to make a last-ditch effort. It was like climbing Everest. I got to the packed down area around the shed and leaned against it for a minute, watching the dogs lunging through the snow. I got enough strength back to make it in the house. It was chilly inside. The fire had gone out. I put Caden down on the sofa and built an inferno in the stove and another in the fireplace. I pulled two chairs up between them and put Caden in one. I put coffee on and took her tarp and blanket.

She gave me her coat and vest and pulled off her shoes, stretching her feet out toward the fire. I went out and got the generator running. I have a gas backup, but I mostly use a little steam turbine. It's wood-fired, and I got the boiler up to pressure and went back inside. The lights were on and Caden was asleep in the chair.

There were a million things to do, and I got to it. I only had one bed. It was in the loft and I got the fans running to move the warmth from the stove and fireplace around. First aid supplies were in the bathroom, so I got those out. I kept casting supplies, and I got those, too. There were no women's clothes but I got her a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts with a drawstring.

I went and shook her arm. "Caden, I need to clean you up and take care of your leg."

She opened sleepy eyes. "Can't I rest for a while?"

"You can rest after," I told her.

I stripped her down to her underwear. She was high enough that she didn't protest. "I'm going to feel you up now," I whispered.

"Okay," she agreed. "Wait! What did you say?"

I laughed. "I was just kidding. This may sting."

Her head had bled a little from a cut on the bump, and she had abrasions all over her. I cleaned them up and washed her all over with a warm cloth. I cleaned the blood out of her ears and I put disinfectant on. She jumped when I touched her cuts and abrasions and I blew on them to soothe her.

When I had her cleaned up, I wrapped her leg in the soft padding from the casting kit.

"What color cast do you want?" I asked her.

"What are my choices?" she asked.

"Pink, blue, green or white," I told her.

"Green," she said. "You have to sign it, too."

I was laughing as I wound the fiberglass strips around her after dipping them in the hardening solution. I got a walking pad and wove it in. It was easy to apply, and I wound it up nearly to her knee. When I trimmed off the excess padding, it looked good. She hung it over the arm of the chair to dry and I made her a sandwich and a cup of coffee. I got the same for myself and found a bag of chips that we shared. The house was warm, I put the stove on automatic and moved her up over in front of the fireplace. We made s'mores and I carried her to bed. I tucked her in and she fell asleep almost immediately.

I woke her up at midnight and helped her to the bathroom. When she was finished, I carried her back to bed and gave her another Percodan. I replaced the one she had taken in my pack and turned in myself.

When I woke up the next morning, she was lying half across me. Her left arm was across my belly and her cheek was resting on my chest. The unbroken leg was across me and she felt like an angel lying there. I petted her back a little and her skin was like silk. Her flaming hair was covering both of us like a blanket. She stirred and looked up at me with those violet eyes.

"Good morning," I said. "It looks like you're the one feeling me up."

Her cheeks flushed but she didn't move. "I could get used to this," she said. "I need the bathroom again, though."

I carried her down and left her until she called. She wanted to take a shower and I needed one myself. I found a plastic garbage bag and wrapped it around her cast, binding the top with rubber bands.

"You need me to scrub your back?" I asked.

She laughed and shooed me out after I helped her to the door. I put a towel where she could reach it and laid out the shorts and sweatshirt.

"I don't have much you can wear," I told her. "No underwear, unless you want boxers."

"I might just wear them for shorts," she said. "I think I'd like that better. Go get me some."

When I came back, she was in the shower. I didn't peek as I left the boxers where she could reach them and went to make breakfast. I heard the shower stop, and after a few minutes she called. Her hair was wrapped in a towel and she looked adorable. I carried her to the kitchen counter and put her to work chopping onions, peppers and smoked sausages.

I went and showered and when I got back we made powered eggs and turned them into omelets; stuffed with the sausages, peppers and onions. They were very good, she said, and we stuffed ourselves. We drank a pot of coffee and sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace. She cuddled up against me and wanted to talk.

I told her about Sarah and she told me about her family. Her mother had passed away two years earlier. Her father was a professor of economics at George Mason. She had a little brother in college and she had been a spook for three years. She had graduated from Dartmouth and had a law degree from Yale. We talked until the afternoon and I had never felt more comfortable with anyone. I made roast beef sandwiches and potato salad for lunch. We went back to the sofa and she snuggled up again. She seemed to be a very physical girl. She wanted to be touching me all the time.

"Are you like this with everyone?" I asked her.

"No, of course not. I like you, though, and you're taking care of me," she said. "I hug around on my brother and dad all the time."

"Your aunt Sarah was like that," I told her. "My family didn't touch much and it took some getting used to."

"Does it bother you?" she asked. "I won't do it if you don't like it."

"I love it," I told her. "Don't ever stop. You make me feel warm all over."

She wiggled closer. We played cards and Trivial Pursuit until dinner. I roasted Cornish hens and baby carrots and we had a baked potato.

"You're a very good cook," she said.

"I like it," I told her. "I don't get to cook for people very much. I'm glad you like to eat. Do you like to do dishes?"

"No," she laughed. "It's only fair, though. Put me over by the sink and I'll do my part."

She cleaned up while I went outside and fed the dogs. I stoked the boiler and carried wood to the box. The cold hadn't let up, and I made sure we were ready. It looked like snow again.

When I went back inside, she was through with the dishes and I carried her to the sofa. I poured her a couple of fingers of good single-malt Scotch and got some for myself. We looked at old pictures of her aunt Sarah and me.

"She looked just like Mom did," she said. "It's so sad that they're both gone so young."

"Life isn't fair," I told her. "You just have to deal with it."

We had been dancing around the taboo subject of my abilities and she seemed ready to talk about it.

"When did you find out you weren't like other people?" she asked.

"I think when I was about 12," I said. "I could see things that were about to happen around me. It helped me in a lot of ways. I was very good at sports. When you know what the other team is going to do, it becomes easy. I could tell what the right answers were to tests and I did well in school. I went to MIT and the CIA recruited me out of college. I hid what I could do. Mom was the only one who knew and she had those abilities, too. She told me about other families. It seems to be genetic. There are about 30 families around the world. Most of us are in the US and Russia. There are some in England and France, too, and a few scattered in other countries. We were considered witches until modern times."

"How did the CIA find out about you?"

"I was working an operation in Israel. We were driving down the street and I knew there was a car bomb ahead. The only way out was to stop the car. I stopped and the other operative asked me what I was doing. He was a man named Gerald Watts. I told him it was a trap. I walked him through what was going to happen and he didn't believe me. We played it out and took the driver of the car bomb out. He had Watts at gun point and I killed him. Watts thanked me for saving his life by leading the team that kidnapped me."

"You killed him and the whole team. I didn't know the details."

"They didn't give me a chance. There were 30 of them. I killed eight while they were taking me, four in the truck after they took me and six more at the compound. I got three at the air base, six on the flight and the last three in that room in Macon. Benson lived."

"My God, Macalastair, how could you do that?"

"You mean the method, or how do I justify it morally?"

"I was talking about the method. You can answer the other if you want to."

"I can see opportunities. I calculate probabilities. For instance, the guys in the truck made a mistake. One of them got up to get a bottle of water. He crossed in front of the other three and I got my leg shackles around his neck. I crushed his throat and he dropped his gun. I knew where it was going to fall and I rolled on top of it and started shooting behind my back. I wasn't very accurate but it was close quarters."

"Jesus, that's creepy. You knew he was going to get up?

"Yes, they were kidnapping me, Caden. I knew they were going to beat the crap out of me. They waterboarded me 53 times and shot me full of drugs. I don't feel bad about killing them at all. I have the right not to be held against my will. I wasn't harming anyone. I saved Watts' life, for God's sake. I would have saved any one of those men. I have the right not to be tortured and given drugs. If anyone tries to take those rights away, I'm going to fight like hell and do anything it takes to keep them from doing it. Do you believe in self-defense, Caden?"

"Yes, I just heard the story differently."

"I just told you the way it happened. You can believe me or not."

"Everything I know about you firsthand tells me that you're telling the truth. You're incredibly gentle with me, Macalastair."

"I'm gentle with everyone who lets me be gentle." I told her. "You're nearly helpless. How could I not be gentle?"

"Give me my gun back and I won't be helpless."

I decided to do it. She wasn't going to shoot me, at least right away. I got up and got it out of my pack. I handed it to her and she gave it back.

"I didn't really want it," she said. "I was just seeing if you would give it to me. I'll take it when we go in. You keep it for me for now."

I put it on the fireplace mantle. It was late and I carried her up to bed. She pulled the comforter up and wiggled around. The sweatshirt came out and she dropped it on the floor.

I got in and she scooted over against me, her back to me and we fell asleep, back to back. When I woke up, the sun was coming up and she had turned to face me. She was hugging me and we were spooned up. I could feel bare breasts against my back and things started stirring. I got up before it got awkward and got dressed. She was still sleeping, and I let her stay there until she awakened. I went out to the shop and built a fire in the wood stove there. The dogs came in and laid on the floor and watched me. I thought about making Caden some crutches. I went to the lumber shelves and found what I wanted. I cut and sanded until the rough or sharp edges were gone and screwed them together. They didn't look bad and they were adjustable, but I needed rubber for the foot end. There was an old snowmobile belt around back and I glued rubber tips on the bottoms. She needed padding for under her arms and I found some carpet pad that would work. I covered the pad with leather and stapled it down. They didn't look bad at all.

I cooked breakfast and went upstairs with a tray. She was awake, waiting for me go come and get her. We ate in bed and talked. She was a little careless with the covers, and before long one luscious breast was exposed. A little pink nipple was staring at me. The breast was exquisite. It was big and firm and the areola was about the size of a quarter and a little puffy. She saw the direction of my gaze and looked down. She squealed and snatched the covers up.

"You could have told me," she accused.

"Then you would have pulled the covers up," I said.

"You're a bad boy," she said. "Go get me some clean clothes."

I dug around and found another sweatshirt and clean boxers. She pulled the sweatshirt on but not before I got another flash of those amazing breasts. Her face was as red as her hair and she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.

"Take me to the bathroom," she said, holding the clean boxers in her hand. "I need to shower. I need to pee, too."

I carried her downstairs and showed her the crutches. She was delighted with them. We had to adjust the height a little. She was taller than I thought. She went around the room and she could navigate just fine. She went into the bathroom and I read a book.

"What are you reading?" she asked when she came out.

"I'm reading The Abolition of Man," I told her.

"What's it about?"

"Philosophy," I told her.

"The killer philosopher," she said.

That hurt my feelings a little. I turned back to the book and she gasped.

"Jesus, I'm sorry, Macalastair. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay," I said. It wasn't. I didn't like her feeling that way about me.

She came over and sat by me. She took the book and set it on the coffee table. She took my face in her hands and made me look at her. There were tears in her eyes and they were a smoky grey.

"It isn't okay. I know that hurt. I'm very sorry. You don't deserve that from me. I love my crutches," she sobbed a little. "I'm so sorry, Macalastair."

I couldn't stand it. I pulled her to me and kissed her. She melted into my arms and her slender body shook as she cried. I could taste tears on her lush lips and they moved against mine as she tangled her fingers in my hair and kissed me fiercely. She slid her arms around my neck and climbed on my lap, straddling me as she continued to kiss me, over and over.

She nuzzled into my chest and I held her. "Do you forgive me?" she asked.

"Yes, baby; I'll forgive you for anything if that's the way you apologize," I told her.

"I liked it," she said. "This isn't part of my job, Macalastair. I wanted to do it. Can you tell?"

"Yes, I can always tell."

"That makes me feel odd that I can't lie to you."

"Do you lie often?" I asked her.

"Yes, I lie all the time. That's my job. I almost never lie about personal things, though." She wasn't lying.

She looked up at me and her eyes were blue. "I wish I could tell if people were lying to me."

"It's a curse, Caden. People tell polite lies all the time. Most of the time they don't want you to know, and if they think you do it gets very awkward."

"I can imagine. It would be nice if I knew you were telling me the truth. I hate doubting you, but I can't ignore the possibility that you're playing me."

"I know, but there's nothing we can do about it. We'll just have to wait and see. I know you're not playing me. That makes me very happy, Caden."

"Macalastair, I would like very much to make love to you. I can't with the way things are. I know it makes it seem like I don't trust you. I do, I just think you're wrong. Even if every detail went down exactly like you say it did, I don't think it's going to happen like that again."

"I'd like that, too. You honor me, Caden. I'll remember. I understand. In your place, I'd feel just like you do. I think you're hopelessly naive, but that's part of your charm. You seem like a wide eyed innocent to me. Keep that as long as you can. Can I at least hold you like this and kiss you? Will you still sleep with me?"

"Yes, I promised you back in the cave I'd let you look. Would you like that?"

"Oh, my God, yes. I had a couple of chances, you know. I didn't want to ogle you without your permission."

"You have my permission to ogle. You can even touch a little. Don't try to get me to go any farther. I probably would, but I would hate myself, after. I wouldn't like you very much, either."

"No, I won't then. I want you to like me."

"I do, more and more every day."

I hugged her close and wrapped her slender form up in my arms. She felt so little and cute I wanted to pet her all over.

"I never thought to ask you, Caden. Do you have a boyfriend or a lover out there? Are you married? Have you been married?"