A Week in the Snow

by Gwen Masters

  Richard nodded and watched Grace walk away, knowing Amanda would never be herself again.

  Rebecca was waiting for him when he got home. As his headlights washed over the house, she came out on the porch to greet him in her bare feet, even though it was below freezing. Her whole body hurt, her face worst of all. She had used ice packs and ibuprofen from his medicine cabinet, but the pain had hardly eased. The pain in her heart, however, was now for someone else, not for herself.

  “How is she?” she asked as he came up the walk.

  He shook his head and urged her into the house. “You’re going to freeze.”

  “Is she going to be all right?”

  Inside the house, the fire was roaring. Richard stood in front of it and warmed his hands while he thought about the things Grace had said, and where Amanda’s life might be headed. “She’s in the psych ward,” he said, and Rebecca sank down on the couch, stunned.

  “You mean, she’s…they committed her?”

  “Apparently this isn’t the first time.”

  Rebecca felt horribly guilty, not only for the way she had provoked Amanda, but for the things she had said about her in the past. Hindsight was twenty-twenty, and right now hindsight was a vicious bitch hell-bent on reminding Rebecca of all the mistakes she made.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “Her mother told me the whole story,” he said, then explained everything to Rebecca.

  She sat still as a stone, watching him and listening to every word, wishing like hell she had never pushed Amanda over the edge. But how could she have known? She didn’t even know the edge was there.

  “They are going to keep her?”

  “She’s in for at least two weeks.”

  Rebecca took a deep breath. Her ribs hurt. She went to the kitchen for an ice pack and came back to find Richard facing the fire, his back to the doorway. She watched him stand there, read defeat in the slump of his shoulders, heard the sighs that came from deep in his body, the ones that said he was more tired than he had been in a long, long time. It had been a long and draining time for all of them.

  Richard heard her come into the room and turned to look at her. He was dead on his feet, but there were more things he had to say before he collapsed into bed.

  “I want you to know,” he said, “I’m going through with the divorce, Rebecca.”

  She sat gingerly on the edge of the couch. She had thought about that long and hard while he was gone, and she had decided that if he chose to stay married to Amanda she would have to live with that. It would break her heart, but she knew he was the kind of man who did the right thing, and she had no idea what the right thing might be in a situation like this. She would trust his judgement, even if that meant letting him walk away from her.

  “Richard…”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Amanda was gone for years, and my heart has moved on. No amount of explanations can change that. I’m sorry she’s in this terrible state right now, and I’ll do what I can to help, but I’m not going to stop the divorce because she came back.”

  Rebecca’s heart swelled with happiness, even as a part of it broke for the woman he had once loved. Regardless of the trouble Amanda had caused, Rebecca wanted to see her get better, and she didn’t want her to suffer the heartache of losing the man she loved.

  But that was the same man Rebecca loved, and she didn’t want to give him up.

  She rose from the couch, put her arms around Richard, and kissed him on the forehead. “Let’s get some sleep,” she said. “The world will be clearer tomorrow.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  They awoke the next morning to the sun streaming in through the windows. It was just like the days they had awakened to after a lazy night of lovemaking, the sunlight their only alarm clock. This time wasn’t nearly as calm, as Rebecca stretched and cried out in surprise. The pain of her altercation with Amanda had caught her off guard, no matter how many ibuprofen she had taken.

  “Whoa, now, easy,” Richard said, touching her arms gently, looking into her face. The bruises looked terrible this morning, as he had known they would, but the cuts looked much better than they had when they had been fresh. Now that she was naked in the sunlight, he could see the bruises on her ribcage too, and the one really good one on her breastbone, almost directly between her breasts.

  Amanda had to be insane with rage to do that kind of damage.

  Rebecca smiled at him. Her lips were still swollen and one eye was looking pretty rough, but she was still more beautiful than any other woman he had ever seen. He leant forward and kissed her carefully, afraid of hurting her. She ran her hands through his hair and kissed him back, pulling him closer with every passing minute, until he was almost on top of her.

  “Make love to me,” she whispered, and he shook his head.

  “No way. I’ll hurt you more than anything else.”

  She smiled against his lips. “You can be gentle as a whisper, Mr Paris.”

  He protested as she lay down and pulled him over her. It wasn’t just his fear of hurting her, and when she saw that scared look in his eyes she knew his hesitation was much bigger than it appeared.

  “What did she say to you?” she asked softly, and Richard looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

  “She said her lover was better than me. That she had learned there was more to sex than the missionary position.” The words had been hard to hear and, now, they were even harder to say. Rivers of shame tore through him as he said them, wondering anew if they were all true, or if she had just set out to hurt him.

  Rebecca sat up and forced Richard to look at her. “She lied.”

  “But…”

  “She lied, Richard. You’re a kind and attentive lover, and you’re exciting, too. I’ve never met a man who would so readily share his fantasies with me, or ask me about mine, and do his best to make them all into a reality.”

  Though her words warmed him, the doubts still lingered. Rebecca knew what those doubts were like—she had felt more than a few of her own in the past. It would take a long time for them to fade, and there was no better time than now to start working on it.

  “Make love to me,” she said again.

  Richard was almost afraid to touch her. He hadn’t known until that moment how badly mere words could hurt, how paralysing a fear they could bring to the surface. He gently touched Rebecca’s breast and she smiled at him, encouraging him to keep going.

  “Rebecca,” he murmured. “I can’t, honey. I just can’t.”

  She bit her lip and studied him. She knew full well it wasn’t a rejection of her, but it felt very much like one, and she silently cursed Amanda for her ability to hurt both of them, even when she wasn’t there.

  “Then let’s get dressed and go back to your office,” she said. “We’ve got plenty of time to overcome this, and I’m not about to push you until you’re ready.”

  “Isn’t that always the man’s line?” he teased, relieved she wasn’t going to insist.

  She carefully got out of bed and walked to the shower. She climbed in and Richard was right behind her, both of them under the water and using the soap, but neither one of them trying the sexual games that had happened the last time they were in a shower together. Now that Rebecca was moving around she felt much better, but she avoided the mirror. She didn’t want to know how bad it looked.

  She solved the problem of making herself presentable by wrapping a scarf around her neck. It was one of Richard’s, old and thin, but perfect for what she needed. Her black eye would still be evident, but was there anyone in town who didn’t know what had happened? Rebecca was sure the gossip wires had hummed well into the night and got an early start this morning.

  Richard watched her move around the room, berating himself for not making love to her. Was he really going to let Amanda’s anger keep him from enjoying the woman he wanted so much? But now she was dressed, and so was he, and she was looking at him from the top of the stairs.

  “Hurry up, lazybones
,” she said.

  Richard drove them to the office, where the same young man was there to greet them. The coffee in the back room was piping hot and Richard poured two cups. Rebecca wandered over to the layout room as she shrugged out of her jacket. He watched her bend low over the old press and study it. Her shirt fit snugly into the waist of her jeans. Her hourglass profile was accentuated by a thin leather belt. She had left her hair down today, the better to cover the marks on the side of her face, and when she arched her back to stretch, he watched as her breasts were thrown into sharp relief.

  Her nipples were hard under her shirt.

  Richard stared at them as she moved. She must have known he was watching her, for sometimes she seemed to glance sidelong at him, but she never acknowledged him. She just moved among the things he was so familiar with, taking her time, and every now and then she would stand in such a way he could have sworn she was posing for him.

  When she moved from his office area to the rooms that never got used anymore, the ones so crowded with the flotsam of days gone by that Richard mostly just kept the doors closed and ignored the mess, he grinned and followed her.

  He closed the door behind them.

  The room was pitch-black without the overhead light from the next room over. He could hear the slight rustling sounds Rebecca made as she moved carefully in the room, perhaps turning around to look at him, perhaps trying to feel her way back to him. Finally the movement stopped and her voice came, low and careful. “Does the door lock?”

  Richard reached behind him, felt for the knob, and found no lock there. He had never thought to look for one before. “No.”

  There was silence for a long moment. “Good.”

  Richard waited to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, but there was no adjusting to be had. It really was dark as a tomb in there, and it smelt like one, too—musty paper, dusty computers tucked away in corners, wood that was a century old.

  Richard took a few steps forward, feeling his way with his shins and his hands, hoping he would brush up against something rather than slam into it. He took his time, working towards where he had heard her voice. If he stood quietly for a moment, he could hear her breathing.

  When he reached something hard, he wrapped his hand around it. It was wooden, and smooth—maybe part of a frame of some old machine, something that hadn’t been used in decades. He felt with his other hand and there she was, warm flesh under his palm.

  He slid his hand down. And down.

  She was naked.

  Richard’s cock was instantly hard. What he couldn’t do in the glare of the sunlight was the one thing he couldn’t live without, here in the utter darkness. Using her body as a guide, he stepped behind her and realised she was bent over the old printing press, her hands outstretched, her bare ass waiting.

  “Fuck me,” she whispered.

  Richard pulled down his slacks. He listened for sounds from outside the door, any evidence of an interruption, but even as he listened he knew he didn’t give a damn. There was a warm and willing woman right in front of him, her pussy already wet, and what else mattered?

  He slid in with one long, smooth thrust.

  Rebecca arched her back, pushing on to him, and smiled in the darkness. He fit her perfectly, like a key to a lock. She spread her legs wider and bent low over the machine in front of her, the metal parts cold against her hard nipples, the smooth rubber parts slippery against her body. Richard’s hands were on her hips and he was pulling her back, fucking her hard, while she held on.

  Richard rammed into her with all the force he had. He knew she was bruised and battered, but that paled in comparison to how wet and hot her cunt was around his dick. She wanted a fuck, and she wanted it hard. She slammed back into him, giving as good as she got. His balls made a soft slapping sound with every thrust, and he grunted softly every time he pushed in.

  Rebecca spread her legs wider, desperate to get him deeper. He bent his knees and fucked her with an upward angle, a new sensation that made her shake with the impending orgasm. He was touching something within her, something that was hard to reach, and she was afraid to move, lest the pleasure disappear. “Right there,” she whispered. “Right there, oh, God, don’t stop.”

  Richard pumped in and out of her, nothing but his hips moving. He held her thighs hard with his hands when she started to squirm, not letting her move away from him, and not letting up. The metal rattled underneath her as she tightened her hands on it, pulling hard, the orgasm blossoming from the inside out.

  Richard knew when she came. Though she didn’t make a sound, he felt the pulses of her cunt around him, both sucking at him and trying to push him out at the same time. He held very still inside her for a moment, enjoying the sensation. When he moved again it was to pump hard, straight in and out, now intent on making himself come, too.

  When he did come, he had to bite his lip to keep from hollering.

  He held inside her for as long as he could. Then he rubbed against her, spreading her wetness all over them both. She giggled at the slippery feeling, and he shushed her with a loud stage whisper. “Somebody will come back here and see you naked,” he warned.

  “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

  His cock twitched in response, making her laugh again.

  Richard carefully pulled up his pants. He made his way back towards the door as Rebecca made herself somewhat presentable. When she gave the okay, he opened the door just a little, enough to let the light shine through, and looked at her.

  Her hair was a mess, the way he loved to see it. Her cheeks were flushed, and in the dim light the bruised eye didn’t look bruised at all. She gave him a wicked grin.

  “I think I have ink on my tits,” she said.

  The rest of the day was spent flirting like mad while he tried to get work done. He pushed himself to finish more articles than he usually did, and Rebecca did her best to help him, though she was miserable at proofreading and admitted as much. She kept staring at him instead of at the papers in front of her. Every time he got up for something, she made sure to reach out and touch him. The constant scrutiny kept him hot, and the constant interruptions from townsfolk and employees kept the frustration high. Though he knew he was there to work, there was nothing he wanted more than Rebecca in bed, moaning on his cock.

  When the office finally closed up for the day, Richard bade the last employee goodbye and locked the door behind them. He pulled the shades down and turned to the woman who had been waiting for this moment all day.

  “You vixen,” he growled, then he was on her.

  They did it in his office chair. She sat on top of him, her legs draped on either side, and lowered her wet hole on to his dick. He slid in without the slightest hint of resistance, but when she pulled up on him she squeezed hard with her inner muscles. The result was like a firm handjob, only much, much nicer. He teased her nipples with his fingertips while she bounced up and down on him, her head thrown back. When she reached back to brace herself on the desk, all the paperwork slid to the floor, where it was completely ignored. She leant back against the computer monitor and when the keyboard got in the way, she pushed it aside, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter.

  Richard stood up and grabbed her hips, pressing her firmly into his desk, running his dick in and out of her while she squealed with delight. She grabbed the edge of the desk, knocking over a cup full of pens and pencils. They scattered on the floor and rolled in every direction. Richard leaned over her, thrusting hard into her pussy and running his dick against her clit at the same time, stimulating her from the inside out. She bucked against him when she came, her mouth open wide with ecstasy, her eyes wild as they met his. He came right along with her, his balls throbbing as he emptied into her.

  Someone knocked on the door.

  The sound startled Richard so much he almost dropped Rebecca to the floor. She caught herself on the edge of the desk and lowered her feet to the ground, staring at the front door. The blinds there were closed
but could someone see through anyway? Maybe from around the corner?

  Richard pulled his pants up and shrugged into his shirt. “It’s probably someone wanting to place an ad before deadline.”

  The sound came again, but this time it was an insistent pounding. Someone knew they were in there, and they weren’t taking silence for an answer.

  Rebecca quickly found her clothes and put them on. Richard waited in the inner doorway while she made herself look presentable, then he peeked out of the shade at whoever was beating down the door.

  When he saw his mother, he sighed.

  “Let me in, son! Damn it, it’s cold out here.”

  Richard opened the door and Janette came inside, a whirl of wool and cold and anger.

  She glared at him then shot a vicious look at Rebecca. “What have you done?” she almost yelled, and, though Rebecca’s instinct was to fade into the office and avoid this confrontation, Richard stood his ground and calmly answered.

  “I’m not sure you want to know what I was just doing, Ma.”

  His mother looked as though she wanted to slap him. “Don’t be obscene.”

  “If this is about Amanda, Ma, you’ve got no cause to argue. She’s in the psych ward at General.”

  “She’s a very sick woman!”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “And you’re still leaving her? I figured you would be the good man I raised you to be, and come to your senses! You don’t just leave your wife when she’s in the hospital and in need of her husband’s good care!”

  Richard rubbed his eyes. “She’s been gone for years, Ma. I’m sorry she’s sick and I will do what I can to help her, but I’m not in love with her anymore.”

  “Oh, yes, you are. You’re just blinded by that…that…”

  “My name is Rebecca,” she said from across the room, and won a glare from Janette.

  “I’m not in love with Amanda,” he said again, “and I’m not a martyr.”