A Week in the Snow

by Gwen Masters

  She disappeared out of the door and Richard chuckled. He knew exactly where she was going. Sure enough, she returned a few moments later with her camera. She had told him she carried a camera everywhere, always, for she never knew when inspiration would strike. Apparently it had struck in the offices of the Crispin Tribune.

  Richard watched as she framed shot after shot of the back room, zooming in on things he never would have noticed: a mistake in the typeset on an old box, dozens of ancient papers fanned out with their dates showing, a bottle of ink with a perfect fingerprint on the closed lid. Rebecca saw these things with her creative eye and suddenly Richard viewed his office as a lovely place with secrets in every corner, instead of a dust-covered place that needed a good cleaning.

  “You’re amazing,” he said to her, and she grinned at him before she lifted the camera.

  She caught her first photograph of him while he stood in front of an old Crispin Tribune sign, a worn and faded banner they used to use at sporting events until it was too ragged to be hung with any dignity. He looked into the eye of her camera as she took the picture, completely relaxed under the gaze of her film.

  Most people instinctively shied away from her lens, or worried about how the film would record them. She loved that Richard was comfortable enough with himself to allow such things and not bat an eye in embarrassment.

  “What a place,” she said, turning in a circle on the dusty floor.

  “It is great, isn’t it?” He had caught the fire from her, and now he was seeing all kinds of things to use in photographs, and even an article or two about the old printing press, the hectograph, and all the things that went together to make a paper run efficiently throughout the decades. He could do a whole series of stories on how the newspaper made it into the hands of readers each week. He was already seeing the headlines.

  Rebecca read the thoughts in his eyes and smiled at him. “We make a good pair.”

  He took her into his arms and kissed her.

  No one had come by the offices all day, but, as fate would have it, one of the local police officers chose that moment to walk in the front door with a classified ad. When Officer Watts saw Richard embracing a woman who was definitely not his wife, his surprise was written all over his face. He was even more surprised when Richard didn’t immediately spring from the woman’s arms. In fact, he took his time in moving away from her before coming to the desk and greeting the young man with a smile, as though nothing was amiss.

  “Been a long few days for you boys, hasn’t it, Steve?”

  Steve blinked at Richard, looked again at the pretty brunette who was standing on the other side of the room, and decided to take the very obvious hint. “Busy doesn’t begin to describe it,” he said. “Why every fool with a heart condition chooses the same moment to shovel his snow, I’ll never know. What happened to your hand?”

  “A nice little slice of glass.”

  “Stitches?”

  “More than I care to count.”

  “Hey, at least it wasn’t a heart attack.”

  Richard grinned. “There’s a reason I don’t shovel snow.”

  Steve handed the ad to Richard, who pulled paperwork from under the counter and started putting the information into the form. “I just sent the paper off for printing, so this will have to run next week. I hope that’s all right.”

  Steve nodded, eyeing the young woman as she walked through the back room. As soon as she was out of earshot, Steve leaned over the counter. “Hot damn and shazaam,” he whispered. “Who the hell is the chickie?”

  “The chickie is named Rebecca. She’s here visiting from Miami.”

  “How the hell did you get a woman from Miami?”

  “Mail order,” Richard quipped.

  The officer rolled his eyes. “I mean…how did you meet her?”

  “She had some car trouble and I helped her.”

  Steve raised an eyebrow. “How’s her car now?”

  Richard paid attention to the paperwork and didn’t answer. Steve looked around the corner at Rebecca then looked back at Richard. “Haven’t heard from Amanda, I take it?”

  Richard shot him a look that could freeze an ocean. Steve held up his hands and backed away from the counter. “Hey, whoa, okay. Sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  “We can talk about it later,” Richard said, smoothing things over. “Just not now, okay?”

  “Okay. Man, I’m sorry. Really.”

  “It’s all right.” Richard gave him a genuine smile to show him that it really was all right, then handed the paperwork over for Steve’s signature. Steve signed it, slid the appropriate amount of money across the counter and stepped towards the door, but not before shooting another look in Rebecca’s direction.

  When he was gone, Richard sighed and leaned on the desk. Close, so close, and now he knew the word of Rebecca’s presence would be all over town by the end of the day. It wasn’t that Steve was a gossip of any higher order than anyone else, but Crispin was a small town, and one overheard conversation would make it into every nook and cranny of their little world with surprising speed.

  He had to tell her.

  Richard looked at her as she walked back through the room, her camera in front of her face, taking shots of things he hadn’t noticed before. He watched her as she lost herself in the old articles pinned to the bulletin board, and studied her as she took a good look at his awards on the wall. When she turned back to look at him, her smile was so radiant his whole heart warmed at the sight of it.

  He had to tell her, but it didn’t have to be right now, did it?

  “Come on,” he said, pulling the keys out of his pocket. “I know a place your camera will love even more than this.”

  As they stepped out into the snow and he locked the door behind them, Richard didn’t miss the curious eyes looking at them from the diner across the street. Steve Watts stood in the middle of them, talking, and Richard thought he knew exactly what the man was saying.

  “This is beyond beautiful,” Rebecca said.

  They were standing at the end of one of Iowa’s famous covered bridges. Richard had told her the name of it but she had hardly heard him. She was too interested in the way the afternoon sun shone through the loose slats at the top of the bridge, the way the inside of it seemed to come alive with dancing light. Rebecca was glad she had brought along extra film. She stared at the bridge as she put the new roll into her camera with one hand. The digital camera was in the truck, but for shots like this she preferred to go old school.

  She approached the bridge cautiously, gauging the light with every step. Her heart was pounding but her mind was serene, and that was always a good sign that she was in the right place at the right time. The world narrowed to the focus of her viewfinder, and nothing else around her mattered.

  Richard watched silently as she worked, unwilling to disturb her concentration and happy to be able to watch her as she moved in her own creative world. It was like watching someone take a shower, or catching someone dancing when they thought no one was looking. She was so lost in the process, so absorbed with the world through her lens, that disturbing her would be tantamount to committing a crime.

  Long minutes passed as she snapped one shot after another. Richard looked out over the creek that ran below the bridge and watched the water flow down the centre, gradually chipping away at the ice near the shore. When spring came the creek would be so swollen with runoff from the snows that the bridge would become almost impassable. He picked up a handful of ice with his good hand, gingerly patted it into a ball with his fingertips, and flung it into the water. The tiny splash was satisfying, so he did it again. On the third snowball he looked up to see Rebecca’s camera pointed at him, capturing his every move.

  She walked towards him as he threw the next one, sometimes kneeling for a shot, sometimes circling behind him. He let her take the pictures, as many as she wanted, and made a point of not looking at the camera. She cheered him on through a dozen snowballs befor
e she abandoned the pictures and threw her arms around his neck.

  “I’m hungry,” she said. “Where are we going to eat?”

  Richard thought of the diner in town, and the gossip that was already going strong.

  “Want to get some things at the store and take them home?”

  “No. We wouldn’t get around to eating food.”

  He grinned. “Okay, then…there’s a fantastic restaurant just over the river. You like steak?”

  “I love steak.”

  “You like wine, too?”

  “I’m not that big a drinker.”

  “Me, neither.”

  “But first…”

  Rebecca grinned up at him as she dropped down to her knees and carefully set her camera aside. The blood began to sing in Richard’s head, a song of desire.

  “Becca?”

  “You’ve been such a good boy,” she teased. “I figured it was time for a little…reward.”

  She unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks. They were on the road where anyone could come along, anyone at all, and Richard realised he really didn’t give a damn. Everybody knew by now, and not a single one of them mattered a whit. This woman on her knees in front of him was the only person whose opinion mattered. Obviously she didn’t mind the whole world seeing her, so who was he to worry?

  She opened her mouth and took him in. He was instantly hard and aching. Her tongue was maddening, flickering against his head before pressing against his shaft and rubbing with slow, careful circles. She kept it up until he grabbed her hair and pulled her closer. With a sound he could have sworn was a giggle, she started to bob up and down on his dick, sucking hard on the upstroke. She worked him into a near-frenzy of desire before she abruptly pulled away, leaving his cock wet and straining in the cold air.

  “That’s a preview,” she said. His hand tightened in her hair and he tried to pull her back on to his dick but she resisted, watching him with feline eyes. He shot back a look of such frustration that she almost took pity on him and let him come.

  Almost.

  “Don’t move,” she murmured, and reached for the camera.

  Richard stood still and let her take those pictures, too. She took shots of his cock from every angle, enjoying the way it moved and twitched as she snapped the pictures, as if it had a mind of its own and wanted to hide from her viewfinder. Richard leant back against the railing and closed his eyes, to better hear the tiny motor in the camera as it took one image after another. Richard had never known what it was like to pose for a sexy picture, but now that his chance was here, he found it even more enjoyable than he thought it would be.

  “Can I take pictures of you later?”

  “We can take pictures together.” Her voice was nonchalant. “It has a timer.”

  The thought of that made him even harder, and Rebecca noticed. She took one more picture then sat for a moment, looking at his dick. Suddenly she leant forward and sucked it into her mouth again, this time driving him deep with one long thrust. She almost gagged on him. She took a deep breath and slid him deeper, until he brushed the back of her throat. The feeling of that made her go all liquid between her thighs, and when Richard put his hand in her hair, she almost forgot what kind of game she was playing. She started to fuck him with her mouth, keeping her lips tight and her tongue moving. He thrust forward then she did gag, but quickly recovered to take him deeper than she had the first time. She started thinking of angles, of lying back on the bed and letting him slide into her mouth, so she could take the whole length of him. She thought about lying back on the bridge and trying the same thing, but just then Richard tightened his fingers in her hair, and the pain of it brought her back to reality.

  She gently pushed him away again, and this time his groan of frustration was more than clear.

  “Let’s go get dinner,” she said as she rose from her knees and kissed his neck. She was breathing hard, the teasing taking its toll on her, too. His cock was still hard and wet. When she wrapped her hand around it she was gratified by another deep groan. She stroked until his eyes went glassy with need, then she slowed down and let him keep some dignity.

  “Rebecca,” he managed, but wasn’t sure what to say after that. Only one word came to mind. “Please.”

  “Save it for later,” she said.

  “I don’t want to save it for later,” he said. “I want you right now. On the bridge.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “I want you here, in front of the whole town. I don’t give a damn who comes along. Let’s give them a good show. I want them to see me fuck you.”

  Rebecca’s eyes were bright with a smile that she fought to keep off her lips. “No.”

  He sighed, studied her for a moment, and then pulled away. He stuffed his manhood back into his pants and, with a wince that was just as much from the pain in his hand as from frustration, he zipped them up. “You’re a very cruel woman, you know that?”

  She was already headed towards the truck when she heard his words. She might be a lot of things, but cruel wasn’t one of them. Didn’t he know that about her by now? She spun and looked him in the eye.

  “Do you really want to fuck here?” she asked, walking back towards him. “Because I’m so damn wet, I could let you slide right in, and I swear to God I would come in seconds. Is that what you want? Or do you want to wait until tonight, when I pull out all the toys and do wicked things to you, things you’ve only imagined, and then let you make me come until I can’t breathe, or remember my own name, or think a coherent thought other than…” She pressed her lips to his ear. “Fuck me.”

  Richard closed his eyes, hardly able to breathe. “Yes.”

  “Wait?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let’s go torture each other,” she whispered, and they headed for the truck.

  Chapter Eight

  Dinner was indeed torture, as they sat at a little table that allowed their legs to touch and ordered decadent things from a stellar menu: for her the filet mignon with cream and chive sauce, and for him the grilled chicken topped with fruit salsa and grilled pineapples. They ate by lamplight and watched each other over the table, teasing by taking long bites or sucking the juice from a tender slice of meat, dissolving into laughter when the tension got to be too much. She pressed her knee against his and rubbed up and down. That motion alone made him hard again, and now with the pleasure came an ache, the sign of being deprived for a little too long. He shifted in his seat and Rebecca smiled at him with approval.

  “I have big plans for tonight,” she told him, as casually as she might have described the weather outside.

  “Do you?”

  “It involves using several items from your toy box.”

  His mind immediately went to the possibilities. His appetite for the food in front of him was nothing compared to his appetite for what she might use from that box. He resisted the urge to beg her to tell him what her plans were, and they finished their meal in silence, their eyes speaking volumes.

  Back at the truck, Rebecca slid over the bench seat and buckled herself into the middle, right beside Richard. She laid her head on his shoulder as he drove and whispered into his ear: “When we get back to the house, I want you to go upstairs and get a few ties out of your closet. I’m going to tie you up with them, and then I’m going to have my way with you.”

  Richard pressed down harder on the gas pedal and said a silent thanks to the road crews for getting the snow out of the way. They roared down the highway as Rebecca’s hand snaked out of her pocket and found its way to Richard’s crotch, where she squeezed hard enough to make him draw in a sharp, pained breath. “I’m going to do whatever I want to this, and you won’t be able to stop me.”

  Richard nodded. “Yes.”

  She watched him as the streetlights cast shadows in the cab of the truck. He was so eager for everything, so ready to do whatever she might want, that she wondered anew why he didn’t have a woman in his life until she came along. Three years was
a long time to go without, but it was especially long for a man with such a rich, fertile imagination and a sex drive to match. She felt as though she had stumbled on a winning lottery ticket.

  They almost skidded into the driveway. Richard didn’t bother to put the truck in the garage. He helped Rebecca out and they both ran up the sidewalk. Richard’s hands fumbled when he tried to open the door so Rebecca took the keys from him and did it herself. Once inside, Richard turned to her but she stopped him with an upraised hand.

  “Upstairs,” she reminded him. “Naked, on the bed, with ties.”

  He went up the stairs to do as she asked. His heart was thudding already, and his cock was hard—God, had it ever gone down since the blowjob at the bridge? He yanked ties out of his closet, not caring whether they were the good ones or not, and flung them on the bed. He stripped out of his clothes, kicked them into the corner, and lay down on the cool sheets.

  He looked up at the corners of the bed, the posts that he had never thought of tying anyone to, or much less being tied to himself. He looked down at his cock, standing just as erect and ready as those bedposts.

  When Rebecca’s shadow fell across the bed, he looked up at her. She was naked too, her body almost shimmering in the dim light from the hallway. She leaned over him and took the ties. He raised his hands above his head. As she wrapped the silk around one wrist and made it tight, he lifted his head and licked at the hard nipple right over his mouth. He groaned when she pulled away.

  “Not yet,” she said, and turned her attention to his injured hand. She gently wrapped the tie around his wrist and fastened it to the headboard, leaving ample room for him to move for comfort, but not so much that he could get away or touch her without her permission. He smiled at her consideration.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  He watched as she picked up the toy box and placed it on the end of the bed. After a moment of thought, she went to his closet and pulled out one more tie. This one she placed carefully around his head and tied it over his eyes, blindfolding him to what she was about to do.