Rochelle lay staring at the fire, listening to Steve’s steady breathing. There was no way she was going to be able to sleep. She slipped carefully from beneath the blankets and went to stand naked before the fireplace. She felt no need of a robe - the room was toasty, though she knew there was a blizzard going on outside.
She sighed. Everything was beautiful here – the fire, the huge rough-hewn log bed – but it wasn’t what she had expected, or hoped for, really. She had planned this trip as a romantic getaway, to try to put back something she felt was slipping away from them. Maybe she was dreaming. It was their fifth anniversary, after all. Maybe she was foolish to think that the spontaneity, the joy in their lovemaking when they first fell in love, could continue year after year. What did she expect – that a weekend getaway to a condo in Tahoe would turn them back into new lovers? They knew each other, their likes and dislikes, their particular turn-ons and –offs. Part of the fun of being with someone new was discovering all that for the first time, exploring each other’s sexual landscape. But they’d covered that landscape pretty thoroughly now, and the novelty was gone.
She turned to look at Steve sprawled across the bed. She smiled. The quilt had slid partly off him, and his body glowed in the flickering light from the fireplace. His tousled hair made him look boyish, but the long smooth length of his leg and the firm round curve of one buttock were all man. It wasn’t like they were getting old, for God’s sake. They were both fit and vigorous – most people would call them an attractive couple. And they were still very much in love. It wasn’t that. They’d just gotten used to each other. And that made her sad.
She’d planned this weekend so carefully. She’d found the place and rented it online before she even told him about it. When she did, all she would say was that he should pack for snow. She’d collected all of their favorite foods and wines (not forgetting both oysters and chocolate), packed her snow boots and some sexy underwear, and whisked him off right after work. The snow had begun to fall as soon as they started up into the mountains. At first it was wonderful, and they had exclaimed at the beauty of the snow-covered woods as they climbed higher. But the snow kept getting heavier, and then it had gotten dark, and the last hour to the condo had been a little too white-knuckle to be romantic.
They’d made it all right, found the place, and checked in. The night manager told them some of the roads were already closed. They’d had scores of people call to cancel their reservations. There had been few people in the restaurant, but of course that didn’t bother them. They hadn’t come to socialize. After dinner they’d come back to the room and made love. And it had been good – really good. Steve was still a wonderful and attentive lover. But after all, it was still – well, what was it? She felt guilty for even thinking it about her own dear husband, but it had been the same old thing. Foreplay, her head, his head, he climbs on, and a good time is had by all. Is that so bad? Wouldn’t a lot of wives feel lucky at that?
Ah, but it had been so exciting at first. Both of them were experienced lovers and had had a number of partners. But together, they had discovered something special. They both felt it that first time, and discovered to their joy that it just kept getting better. In six months they’d gotten married, but they still considered the first time as the real beginning of their marriage - that was the anniversary they were celebrating now. That first year had been unbelievable. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Often after a frenzied session they’d lie there entwined, soaking wet and exhausted, staring into each other’s eyes in wonder. Then they’d grin, and then start to laugh – because it seemed too perfect to be true.
She gave another deep sigh. How long had it been since that had happened – two years, three? It wasn’t Steve’s fault. Nor hers. Their feelings for each other hadn’t changed. But the novelty was gone.
She looked at him again, and realized his eyes were open, watching her.
“What is it, angel?” he whispered sleepily.
“Just can’t get to sleep,” she smiled, not wanting to bring him down too. But he knew her well enough. He pushed himself up on his elbows.
“What’s wrong?”
She nearly tossed off a meaningless reply, but bit her lip. Why shouldn’t she tell him what was bothering her? They’d always been honest with each other. What was more important? If she felt it, maybe he did too. They should talk about it, and if not now, when? They were snowbound for a couple of days. They could talk without distraction.
“Something’s wrong,” she said. He searched her eyes a second, then turned and sat up, pulling the sheet around his waist. He was fully awake now, but simply waited for her to go on. God, how she loved this man!
“It’s the sex. It’s not like it used to be.”
She saw the hurt flare up in his eyes and she instantly regretted saying it.
“Oh,” he said. “Was I not quite up to snuff tonight?”
“No, no, it’s not anything you did. It was good for me. Really.”
“Good, huh? Not exactly a five-star rating. Should I be doing something else?”
“No, I like it all. But it’s what we always do.”
“You always seem to like it.”
“I do. Please don’t feel that it’s your fault or that I’m blaming you. I don’t think that at all. But we’ve been together a long time now.”
"Five years tonight,” he nodded.
She looked at him. “What about you?”
He took a long time answering, and she realized what a difficult question she’d asked him – a hundred times worse than “Does this make me look fat?”
“I still find you the most beautiful, exciting, desirable woman I’ve ever met,” he said, and then cut her off when she started to respond. “But, yes, I know what you mean.”
Now she felt the pang she’d just seen on his face. In spite of herself, she felt tears well up. To hide them, she turned away and went over to the window. She stood looking out into the darkness. Huge soft snowflakes drifted thickly beyond the glass. His arms came around her to wrap around her waist.
“How many times have we done it, angel?” he asked. “A thousand times? How can it be different every time? There are only so many positions, so many places, and so many ways. It can’t go on being new every time. It can’t be the first time again.” She leaned her head against his.
“I know that,” she said. “But it makes me sad.”
Neither had anything to say to that. They stood there naked, his arms around her, looking out into the snow-covered courtyard of the complex. The snowfall was so thick the few lighted windows were just yellow rectangles in the moving wall of snow. The covered pool was nearly buried in thick drifts. The only bright color was a turquoise circle where the outdoor spa steamed like a volcano in the sub-freezing air. This close to the glass, she could feel the chill of the night on her bare skin and felt her nipples pucker with the cold. She leaned back against him and felt the warmth of his body against her. His hands slid up to cover her breasts and she felt him grow suddenly hard and press against the small of her back.
“Feel like a dip?” he whispered into her hair.
She laughed. “A bit cold for the pool,” she said.
“Not the pool, dummy – the hot tub.”
“You’re crazy. It must be below zero out there.”
“In the air, sure. In the water it’ll be over a hundred.”
She looked down at the blue-tinted steam drifting away below them. It did look rather inviting, the one spot of warmth in all that snow.
“You really think we could go out there now, in this blizzard?”
“Sure, why not? Once we’re in it’ll be great.” He squeezed her breasts. “You were saying you felt like trying something new.”
Her breath caught. “You mean – out there?” She felt a rush of warmth go through her at the thought.
“I can’t think of a better spot. What could be more romantic than to make love in the middle of a snowstorm?”
“This is a public place. Somebody would see us.”
“Bullshit. Look out there. We can barely see the ground. And there’s almost nobody else in the whole complex. The steam makes it impossible to see any detail at the tub.”
She looked down, considering. If someone did look out, they could probably see that there was someone in the pool, but she didn’t think they’d be able to see what they were doing or wearing.
“We don’t have bathing suits,” she said, her resistance fading away in direct proportion to the motions of his hands.
“That’s okay. Can’t fuck in bathing suits anyway. Come on.”
He went to the bathroom and brought out two thick fleecy white bathrobes. “This’ll be a good look with the galoshes,” she said, already putting one on.
“Fuck the galoshes. We’ll go barefoot. It’s only a few yards from the door.”
In another minute they were padding down the hall with towels over their shoulders. They reached the elevator and got in. When the doors opened on the ground floor, she nearly lost her nerve. She was wearing only the short bathrobe and felt very naked. But there was no one in sight, and Steve led her down a hall to the glass doors opening into the courtyard. A foot of snow had drifted against the door.
“This is silly,” she said. “We’ll freeze our asses off out there.”
“I only regret that I have but one tush to sacrifice for love,” he said, and pushed the door open with an effort. The door scraped off an arc of snow. It was cold and dry and light as eiderdown. A cloud of icy air drifted in, but there was no wind and the snow was falling vertically. He stepped out into the snow in his bare feet. He went in over his ankles.
“Oh, shit,” he said, and scampered out into the darkness. She wasn’t going to stand there by herself, and she ran after him.
The snow was so cold she could hardly feel it at first. Then they were standing at the edge of the pool. It was round, maybe ten feet across, with jets bubbling and a thick cloud of steam boiling off into the snow. The drifts, nearly two feet deep now, curled down to meet the lip of the pool exactly. Steve looked at her. His eyes were wild, excited. He took off the robe and laid it over a lump in the snow – it might have once been a chair – and stood there naked. The blue light from the pool shimmered and moved over his body. He grinned at her, then kicked some snow from the nearest edge of the pool. It fell into the water and melted away in seconds. He bent down, rested his hands on the edge, and lowered himself into the water.
She stood there, stunned by the cold.
“Are you going to stand there all night?” he asked. “Get in before you freeze solid.”
She glanced up at the two or three lighted windows above them.
“I hope everybody’s watching television,” she said. She whipped off her robe, tossed it on top of his, and slipped into the water.
At first her feet burned as if they were on fire, but they soon thawed out, and the hot water enveloped her chilled skin. It was heavenly. The air immediately above the pool was humid and steamy, but occasionally a waft of frigid air struck them. She looked down at herself, her skin light blue and wavering through the bubbling water. It was exciting, invigorating, and being naked outside in public gave it that little frisson of danger that always gave her such a tingle.
She looked up at Steve and found him watching her with a smile. The frothy water did not hide his erection, bobbing nearly to the surface as they sat side by side. She reached out to take hold of it.
“Well, hello there,” she said. “Who’s this then?” He let himself float up till he lay out flat, his belly rising out of the water.
“Why, it’s the lonely old keeper on lighthouse island,” he said, and she laughed out loud.
“Oh, the poor old fellow,” she said. “How lonely he must be.”
“Oh, yes, he misses the female companionship, don’tcha know?”
“Let me see if I can make him feel better,” she said, leaning over to take him into her mouth.
“Shiver me timbers, it’s a cannibal,” he began, and then lost the thread of the story.
As she swallowed him, her face came down nearly into the water. The fizz from the bubbles tickled her nose. She loved it when he twisted her hair in his hands and guided her head, but he had to use his arms to hold himself out of the water for her. She was really getting into it when one of his hands slipped and he fell back into the water. Her head dipped into the water and she came up gasping and laughing.
“There must be an easier way,” she giggled.
“How about this?” he said, standing and pulling her to her feet. They kissed and squeezed their wet bodies together as clouds of steam boiled off them. He slid down her body, letting his mouth trail down her collarbone to her breast. He suckled and nuzzled at her as she stroked his shoulders and the back of his head. Then he sank to his knees in the pool and slipped his tongue into her navel. His hands smoothed down her back to cup her buttocks. He tried to dip his head between her legs, but the object of his intentions was under water. He grinned up at her.
“For the first time in my life, angel, I wish you were a foot taller,” he said. He made a couple of gallant tries at submarine cunnilingus, but she was so concerned he was going to drown down there that she couldn’t concentrate. Besides, her upper half was freezing. She pulled him up and they sat again on the bench, their hands playing over each other’s bodies. Finally he pulled her to him and she straddled him. He reached beneath her and spread her lips open, and she held his cock upright and lowered herself onto him.
But somehow the water made it difficult for him to enter her. As much as she wanted him right then, the water seemed to wash away any lubricants she was producing. They both pushed and strained, but it wasn’t working. She almost cried in frustration. Finally they’d gotten it – gotten the excitement back, and she was as hot and ready as she could be. But they couldn’t seem to do it in the hot water. And where else was there? It was a long cold trip back to their bed, and the way she felt right now, that was impossibly far.
Suddenly Steve stood up, his huge erection bobbing in the air. He bent down, took her under the arms, and lifted her out of the water. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held on. He slid inside her like a hot iron. She nearly screamed with pleasure and relief.
With him holding her weight, she had to provide most of the motion. She raised and lowered herself on him. Her wet breasts slid up and down his chest. But as the passion built, she was having more and more trouble controlling it. The third time he slipped out of her – the fastest four-handed game in the world – he cursed.
“Fuck it! You’re taking the fall, angel,” he growled in a Bogart voice. She looked at him in surprise. Suddenly he took a step forward and knelt on the underwater bench. He lowered her bare bottom into the deep snow surrounding the lip of the tub. She squeaked, but his mouth was pressed to hers. Now he could drive into her, and he did so furiously, sloshing great waves of water out into the snow and sending fresh plumes of steam billowing.
But kneeling as he was he still couldn’t get as deep as they both wanted. She slid forward, grinding herself against him, but the angle just wasn’t right. Slowly, as he rammed against her, she was driven back into the snow bank. She fell back on her hands, then her elbows, and at last just lay back naked in the snow. He surged up out of the pool and on top of her, pressing her deep into the icy softness. She brought her heels up onto the edge of the pool, opened her legs wide and he drove to his full length into her.
“Oh, yes,” she groaned. “Yes, that’s it exactly. That’s what I’ve been missing.” He leaned on his hands above her and fucked her furiously, pushing her into the snowdrift. He watched her breasts bouncing wildly as he pounded into her. She was tossing her head from side to side, her long hair flailing the snow, covering them both with glittering icy powder that melted instantly.
Then his climax came upon him and he bucked and arched and grunted. The sight of his transported face above her sent her over her own edge, and she thrust up against him, feeling his warmth boiling into her. He collapsed across her and she pressed his icy chest against hers.
“Oh God,” she gasped. “Oh, shit. Oh, my sweet baby. Oh – hey, my ass is freezing.”
Instantly he jerked up. “Oh, angel, I’m sorry. Believe it or not, I forgot for a second.” He pulled her up to a sitting position. Her hair, matted with snow, fell over her shoulders and about a bucketful of snow slid down her tits and landed in her lap.
“Yow!” she yelped. He picked her up and lowered her into the delicious heat of the water. They held each other, kissing deeply while his hands smoothed hot water over her back and breasts again and again.
When they separated at last, they looked at each other and grinned – the old grin. Yeah, she thought. We’ve still got it.
“Guess we better get back into our room before we freeze,” he said finally, “or someone discovers us.”
“Jesus, look at our bathrobes,” she said. “They’re almost buried already. This is going to be a very fast scamper back to the room.”
He got out and got their robes, shaking off the snow before handing hers to her. They slipped them on. They were freezing, but their bodies were so warm and relaxed and sated that it actually felt good.
“Look,” he said, pointing down. She looked where he pointed, and laughed. There was the outline of her body pressed deeply into the snow. There was no doubt how it had been made - there were two deep impressions of his knees between her thighs. There was even a delicate halo around her head where her hair had whipped the snow.
“Hey,” he said, squeezing her against his hip. “I made a snow angel.”
Originally published April 2009