The Blizzard

The incident burst the bubble of unreality and also destroyed the mood that had pertained so far. Right from the start it had been the stranger's supreme confidence which had done much to reassure me but now he seemed unsure, anxiously scanning the surroundings (although he would have claimed that he was merely being vigilant).

Approaching midday it started to snow again and by the time we had eaten lunch it was coming down heavily, with this fact noticeably increasing my companion's unease. Suddenly reaching a decision, Geoff announced, "I'm going to go for help, at least far enough from this spot for my mobile to work."

"Why now?" I didn't see that the situation had changed."

"Because I don't think the people in charge expect to find anybody still alive trapped in cars. If they had been looking, the guys in the helicopter would have flying alongside of the road instead of right on top of it. If this new snow is as bad as the last lot we could be in real trouble; we've got supplies for a few more days but what if we're still here in a week. I know for sure that the petrol won't last that long and we are also getting low on the camping gas."

Despite my protests Geoff's mind was made up but I could tell that he had something more to say and the need to do so was embarrassing him. At my prompting he reluctantly admitted that we would need to split supplies. "I'll leave most of the food for you because there's a limit to what I can carry but I will need to take three vital items, the sleeping bag, the camping stove and the torch. If they don't come for you today it will be tomorrow for certain, so that only leaves tonight for you to get through alone. If you wrap up well in the blankets and keep the engine running there should be enough petrol left to get you through to tomorrow."

Less than an hour later with his huge backpack and wearing a pair of proper mesh bottomed snow shoes that he had dug out from somewhere, without ceremony or even a farewell kiss, Geoff set out looking every bit like Nanook of the North. Feeling suddenly terribly lonely, I watched him apprehensively until he disappeared from sight. He had left a gadget which consisted of a metal plate which if heated by four night light type candles was sufficient to warm either water or soup but it wasn't a quick affair. For the first half hour after his departure I kept occupied making a coffee but then I wrapped myself in blankets and turned off the engine. I had developed a sudden fear that the fuel would run out during the night.

While it was still daylight I was reluctant to burn candles, so the lack of those flames and the contribution of Geoff's body heat within the capsule of the vehicle, it soon started to feel very cold. I huddled there for quite a long time feeling very frightened and dreading the night. When it got near to 3 p.m., I realised that I should start heating some soup before I lost the light but put this off for several minutes, reluctant to squander the little heat that I had managed to accumulate. Then suddenly, without of any warning, there was the roar of a helicopters engine directly overhead and sounding very low. Almost immediately the car door was wrenched open, I was lifted bodily out of my seat, efficiently wrapped in some silver thermal sheeting and carried quickly to the helicopter.

Some medics took care of me as we flew, performing routine tests upon me. I had had managed to let myself get so chilled that my behaviour and body temperature were similar to those of a genuine hypothermia victim and that is how they treated me. Maybe it was the relief of being rescued or perhaps just the fact of feeling warm again but I remember very little of the flight to hospital, although I could recall someone telling me that it would take twenty minutes. I didn't fully recover my senses until I was tucked up in a hospital bed with concerned nurses bustling round me but after exchanging only a few sentences with one of them I promptly drifted off to sleep again.

I was woken some time later being gently shaken by s smiling nurse who informed me that there was someone special to see me. Illogically I immediately assumed it would be Geoff. I found out later that when informing the rescue services about me he had been able to give then my precise map coordinates. In my still befuddled state I rationalised that as he had managed to get me rescued, he had undoubtedly been rescued himself, brought to the same hospital and had popped in to see me at the first opportunity. Imagine my shock when it was my loving husband who walked in, a massive bunch of flowers in one hand and a smile splitting his face. Unfortunately I did not react quickly enough and I saw his smile falter as he read the disappointment in my eyes.

That unfortunate moment lasted only a split second but then he was smothering my face with kisses and I was eagerly kissing him back, with my arms wrapped tightly round his neck. "I was so worried, I thought I had lost you," he mumbled and the tremor in his voice as he spoke gave me some hint of the despair he had experienced.

I knew that there would be questions to answer but I wasn't yet prepared. I desperately needed time to decide how much or how little I could reveal about what happened during my time trapped in the snow covered SUV. I used the excuse of sleepiness to field his initial tentative queries with the vague promise tell 'tell him everything' later. The tiredness wasn't really pretence because although Geoff and I had both dozed for part of the time every day during those days alone, in the close confines of the sleeping bag we had got little real sleep. It was if the touch of bare skin on bare skin always triggered a new bout of carnality, with both he and I being the instigator.

The next day my position on what to reveal had deteriorated. The media always likes to seize upon some unexpected survivor, as if one life saved seemed to somehow mitigate the horror of an unimaginable disaster. Some people had been found dead in cars and the bodies of others who had tried to walk to safety were expected to be discovered when the snow melted, so my picture and story were on the front page of every single newspaper. Every report also mentioned the unnamed hero who had trekked through deep drifts to the top of a mountain, to alert the authorities to my plight.

The next day when Clive came to visit he was no longer smiling. He gave me a quick kiss but then sat on the chair by the side of the bed. For a while he remained silent but then asked quietly, "Who was he – this guy – this knight in shining armour?"

"He was ex army," I answered honestly, "His vehicle was trapped in front of mine, even though it was a four wheel drive SUV the snowdrift was even too big for him. He'd had survival training and was far better prepared. You should be very grateful to him because there was nobody else anywhere near and if he hadn't taken me into his car, I would have died like all those others."

That seemed to satisfy my hubby and for a while we chatted normally, mainly about our son but I could tell there was something on his mind. Eventually he blurted out, "Are you saying that in the days that you were trapped alone with him he never tried to make a pass at you?"

"Clive, throughout all the time that I spent with him, he always behaved like a perfect gentleman," I said firmly and that seemed to ease his mind, at least for that day.

The next day was worse. The front page of every newspaper carried some variation of the legend, 'Blizzard Hero Was Killer On Run'. The supporting story stated that the unnamed man was wanted for a rather nasty murder in London, with one down market tabloid giving the extra detail that the victim had been tortured before death, with a broom handle included amongst the implements used on him.

Clive stormed into the ward as soon as the doors were opened. Throwing a newspaper on the bed, he asked loudly, "Did he rape you?" and when I mutely shook my head, he said, "Come on admit it, a man like that is wouldn't miss the chance to have a woman like you."

"Darling, he didn't rape me, you've got to believe me," maintained stubbornly, "Despite what you think, he wasn't that kind of man."

"But it says in the newspaper......"

"Clive, he was a decent guy, if he wasn't why would he go to the trouble of getting me into his car and sharing his food instead of just looking after himself?"

"Because you're a very attractive woman and he saw the chance of getting some sex on the side," my worried husband answered triumphantly.

"His wife is dead."

Clive gave a mirthless laugh, "Is that what he told you, it always that or they say they're divorced, It's what his kind of man always says."

"She was murdered."

"He told you that to gain your sympathy, God women are so gullible."

"You are being completely silly," I informed my husband, speaking very firmly. "When he came to invite me into his car he had no idea if I was male or female and it wouldn't have made any difference if I had been a guy. He just wanted to save a life if he could."

"Subarus are women's cars," Clive muttered, unwilling to concede the argument.

"With all the snow piled on top of it he could have had no idea what kind of car I was driving," I concluded and with nowhere left to go, for the moment, my husband fell silent.

I was not in a bad way when rescued and I was now fully recovered but although desperate to hold my young son again, I was deliberately playing the invalid because I wanted to prolong my stay in hospital. While still in my hospital room, my husband's questioning was at least limited to visiting hours but I was afraid that once home I would be subjected to none stop interrogation. There was also another reason for my procrastination. When I got home I knew that I would be making love with my husband and although I was looking forward to that, I worried how easily he would be able to tell that I had had a much better endowed man inside me. On all calculations, a few days delay couldn't do any harm.

"What kind of stuff had he got in his vehicle that helped you both survive?" Clive asked in conversational tone, his voice having lost that accusatory edge.

"Lots of food and candles, a small Gaz stove for cooking, a powerful flashlight and a sleeping bag." I went through the list without thinking and immediately I had named the last item I knew I'd made a bad mistake.

Of course Clive seized on it like a terrier, "What kind of sleeping bag?"

"It was an army one, specially designed for artic survival," I told him factually, hoping that was the end of the matter.

It was a forlorn hope. "Was there only the one?" Clive asked and when I nodded my head, "Which of you slept in it?" was his follow up question.

"We both did. Darling, we couldn't keep the engine running through the night at that was the only we could keep warm."

"What did you wear?"

"Geoff slept naked because that was how the sleeping bag was designed to be used and I took most of my clothes off as well," I told him, shading the truth only slightly.

"I'm not at all happy with the sound of that."

"Sweetheart, it was all done very properly, Geoff got undressed whilst I looked away and then got in the bag to lie with his back to the centre then I switched off the light before removing my clothes and wriggled in so that my back was towards his." It wasn't exactly a lie but I had deliberately given the impression that this was the routine we had followed on all four nights and not just the first.

Hubby had only one shot left in his armoury, "Are you telling me that you lay nearly naked all that time and he never tried to touch you."

That made me laugh out loud, "My love, he and I touched constantly, skin to skin. Crammed into a one man sleeping bag we kept making contact if either of us even twitched." This seemed to mollify my husband and he even half heartedly joined in the laughter.

I was discharged the next morning. I had the great joy of holding my little son Brian in my arms once again and then the inordinate pleasure of having him excitedly bring all his Xmas presents to show me. I was also able to belatedly open all the gifts that had been laying waiting for me since Xmas day. My in laws were around until mid evening and it was not until Brian was finally asleep that my husband I were alone. We sat in silence nominally watching a movie, both of us preoccupied with our own thoughts but holding hands. Eventually we went to bed and made love.

I'm not saying that the earth moved, Clive isn't into the earthquake stuff but when it comes to gentle tender lovemaking he is the absolute master. At first I think that I was the more tense because I wasn't sure whether I had become changed down there but when he said nothing I began to relax because I knew he would have checked. It was so nice to return to the familiar loving, like slipping on a well worn but much loved glove.

The following day was another good one, relaxed and full of laughter, with not one single reference to my missing days. I seriously began to think that I'd weathered the storm but my loving husband had an ambush waiting. After our evening meal, Clive washed the dishes while I went upstairs to read Brian his bedtime story. When I came down I found that two glasses of wine had been poured but instead of being placed near to the settee they were sitting on either side of the dining table.

My husband was waiting for me and as soon as I was seated and he had my attention, he said quietly, "I want you to look straight into my eyes and tell me that he didn't fuck you."

I have no problem with avoiding a question or with giving an only partially true answer but I find it impossible to tell a straight lie. It would have been so simple and got rid of my problem completely but it was beyond me. "I can't," I said sadly.

I watched a mixture of emotions cross my husbands face, first the undoubted hurt at having his worst fears confirmed but quickly followed by an element of satisfaction that his suspicions had been well founded. I think Clive was surprised by my quick confession because he didn't speak immediately and that gave me the chance to say, "He didn't rape me, I wanted him to do it."

Trying to lie hadn't worked but I now realised that brutal honesty wasn't the best policy either because my poor husband had a stricken look on his face as he mouthed the single word, "Why?"

"Because of the situation, because I thought I was going to die and never see either you or Brian ever again, because I thought I was certain to freeze to death within a couple of days and I wanted to grasp some experience and pleasure from the time I had left. It didn't feel like cheating." That wasn't exactly lie but neither was it the truth because at no point trapped by the snow did I seriously think I might perish except possibly during those three hours after Geoff left me alone to start his solo track through the snow.

I expected my husband to challenge that excuse but he had a question to which he gave higher priority, "Did it happen just the once?"

"No," I admitted.

How many times?"

"About a dozen."

Clive looked incredulously at me. "Twelve times?

"More or less." I knew it was a damn site more than twelve and that wasn't counting the three times I had sucked Geoff off to completion. During our time together it seemed that my army lover had Viagra constantly pumping through his veins and I was equally insatiable. I sucked him for my own pleasure and he certainly enjoyed it but there were times when I had to get him off that way just to give my pussy a rest.

"Twelve times in three fucking days."

"Actually it was three days but four nights," I corrected pedantically, not that it really made the figures any better.

Clive stayed silent for quite a while, as if my answers had taken the wind right out his sails but when he did speak again it was with the inevitable question, "Is his cock bigger than mine?"

"About an inch longer and possibly a bit thicker," I said, again using the female prerogative to modify statistics.

"Tell me the things you did with him and how it felt?"

"Darling, don't you think you might be better not knowing that kind of stuff?" I murmured seriously concerned about his feelings.

"But I need to know," Clive insisted passionately, "I have to get the full picture in my head if I hope to understand."

Against my better judgement I offered, "What exactly do you want me to tell you?"

"Was it his physique and masculinity that attracted you to him?"

"Clive, if I was attracted to men like that then I could easily have married one, plenty asked but I didn't want them, I chose you."

"Was he very much better at sex than me?"

"It wasn't a matter of being better but he was certainly very different. In some ways he was better but in others he wasn't a patch on you."

"Give me an example," my hubby asked, but his voice was calmer and I felt as if I had thrown him a lifeline.

"Well you might have guessed, from what I've already said, that he got stiff again far more quickly than you do but on the other hand you can carry on a lot longer than he could manage," I explained.

"But how did we compare?"

"Sweet heart my love, there was no comparison because of the difference between you. You can keep me on a sexual plateau for ages and ages and I love that where he is fast and explosive and I rather enjoyed that as well," I said trying to be as tactful as I could.

My husband sat in silence contemplating my answer, slowly nodding his head before delivering his logical coup de gras with the question, "If you weren't attracted to him and there was so little to choose between us, why did you fuck him?"

"Because I was frightened and lost and he was there," was the only thing I could say

As if there was nothing left to ask, over the next couple of days the questioning ceased but Clive seemed to walk about as if carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. I often found him gazing pensively at me but as soon as I met his gaze he would glance away before quickly leaving the room.

We just went through the motions of living, with minimal words exchanged between us and only then when absolutely necessary. In fact the only times that we behaved at all normally were when Brian was the focus of both of our attentions. We still slept together but there was no kisses and the most that I got was a polite goodnight before he turned out the light. I wanted desperately to try to break out of the cycle but was afraid than anything I said could only make matters worse.

Ignoring the fact that he had saved my life, the media as a whole started to portray Geoff as some sort of psychopath, openly speculating how I had managed to survive those days alone with him without being violated. One or two actuality inferred that I had been molested by him but was too afraid or embarrassed to say. Then the tenor changed, largely due to the efforts of one investigative reporter. The first thing revealed was Geoff's military record and the fact that he received awards for gallantry in both Iraq and Afghanistan.

The next issue of that paper contained the full story of the court case, saying how the dead man had been acquitted of the rape and murder of Geoff's wife but only on a technicality. He was even able to describe the disallowed evidence as 'a knife still covered with the victim's blood and the fingerprints of the killer'. It seems he had kept the weapon as a trophy, along with several intimate items taken from the couple's house. Soon the general consensus of media opinion supported Geoff, some even suggesting that if he handed himself in he should be treated very leniently. Unfortunately the fact that as well as killing the guy he had enacted a rather grisly revenge rather ruled out that possibility.