Cold Comfort

Fortunately, keeping her wine glass from spilling distracted her for a moment; taking advantage of it, I was able to slip into the tub without her noticing my involuntary reaction. By the time she looked up, I had my face under control and had settled in beside her, but with a large enough gap to show companionship rather than romantic interest. Facing out to take in the view and with the lights turned low, I could do this.

Despite the tension, I enjoyed the next hour or so. Even if it was enclosed and heated, the porch was chilly, enough so we didn't expose more than our faces and the arms holding our wine glasses to the air. With our bodies concealed by the water and even our faces a half-seen mystery, I was able to repress that surge of intense physical awareness and concentrate on the current moment.

"What are you thinking about?" It almost didn't register. I'd been focusing on the immediate, not really thinking, so I gave an unfiltered answer.

"How much I enjoy spending time with you. And wondering what we should do next." Totally honest. At least I'd managed to avoid saying "I think I love you," much as I wanted to. Perhaps -- no, certainly -- I was being stupid, but I didn't want to drive her away by putting pressure on her when she had no escape.

I knew Amanda liked me -- a lot, I thought -- and she certainly trusted me, but I'd never detected any clear sign that she was interested in me the way that I had become interested in her. Right now, she could feel trapped -- here at the cabin, even her cell phone service wasn't reliable. If I wanted, she was at my mercy -- she couldn't call out, she couldn't drive my truck, and I was overwhelmingly larger and stronger. I would never force her -- I'm sure she knew it too, intellectually -- but we both knew I could, easily. And she'd told me that even though she'd escaped, she still had occasional nightmares about the time someone had tried.

So I couldn't say anything.

I wanted her -- now and always -- but I wanted her to want me just as much, and to be able to make any choice to be with me without fear. A week I told myself. It was Sunday night -- I'd enjoy the next week with her, keep my feelings to myself, and only tell her how I felt next Sunday night, on the way home. Ask her out on a real date, and take it from there. I wanted her for the long term; surely I could manage a week more. Decision made, I focused on our conversation.

Fortunately, Amanda took my response at face value and didn't hear the subtext. She nodded but paused before replying, frowning in obvious thought. "Can you teach me to snowshoe? And I want to do a hike in the snow. I don't think I want to try downhill skiing or snowboarding yet, but I'd like to do cross country or snowshoeing in some of the other areas you told me about. I know we can't do everything, but I'd like to do as much as I can while we're up here this week."

I thought a moment. "How about we try snowshoeing tomorrow -- it's a lot faster to get up to speed than cross country skiing, even if it's more work. Once you're comfortable with that, we can explore."

ooOoo

She picked it up snowshoeing as fast as I'd expected. By noon, we had our skis and snowshoes in the back of my SUV and set out exploring. Over the next few days, we sampled a little of everything.

I took her up to Northstar first; it's fairly close, and they claim 35 km -- I suppose it sounds more impressive than 20 miles - of snowshoe trails. We didn't cover them all, but we did our best. We were both exhausted by the end of that day, but her smile was incandescent. It was worth the aches that night. At least I'd had the foresight to start the sauna warming before we left. And the heat helped me keep from reacting visibly to her sweat-gleaming body in that red bikini. Despite the intense temptation, I managed to keep my attention focused on her face and carry on a coherent conversation; I knew if I let myself slip even once there'd be no turning back.

We mixed it up -- one day, we stayed close and hiked down the Vikingsholm trail and back, the next I took her all the way down to Kirkwood to try the cross country trails. By now, she was confident on both snowshoes and cross country skis and past the initial learner's mistakes. She'd learned enough to -- slowly and carefully -- handle the truck in the snow. And she'd learned the hard way why cotton clothes -- like, say, blue jeans -- are a bad idea in the snow, if you want to keep warm and dry.

The week took on a pleasant rhythm -- coffee and a hot breakfast, a few hours outside in the snow, trade cooking duties, sauna or hot tub, then sit together close to the stove talking or playing a game until bedtime.

She'd kept her promise and cooked a couple of Chinese dinners and was pleasantly surprised to find that the kitchen gear included a pressure rice cooker with a set of high altitude adjustments taped to the side. I demonstrated why the next night; chicken fricassee goes well with rice, too, and she liked my family's recipe enough to take a second helping.

I might not have enjoyed it, but the effort of keeping my libido under wraps helped convince me what I felt was more than just physical attraction. Yes, I did want to bed her. Urgently. Desperately. But I wanted to spend time with her even more. To see her eyes sparkle when encountering something new. And that mischievous glint just before pushing me off balance, whether metaphorically or -- once at least -- literally, into a snowbank. Despite our different backgrounds, we just fit. And I intended to do my best to see if we could manage to make that fit last for a lifetime.

If I could convince her to see things the same way. I knew she liked me and trusted me. I was probably her best male friend. Maybe her best friend, period. But though perhaps I was what she sometimes called me - "Captain Clueless" - I still hadn't seen an unmistakable sign that she might feel more than that. And it terrified me that I'd have to risk losing her to learn the answer.

Having a week alone with Amanda had been an unexpected gift, and I cherished every moment we shared. But if we'd had company, even one other person to act as a buffer if needed, I'd have felt free to tell her exactly how I felt.

It was Friday, the 14^th -- Valentine's Day itself -- that I nearly lost her and my cautious approach came to a crashing halt.

The day before had been almost perfect -- we'd gone a bit further south, down to Grover Hot Springs State Park near Markleeville. She'd clearly thought I was joking when I told her to bring her swimsuit and towel along and had been suspicious enough to confirm I was bringing mine before packing them. But she'd been enchanted to be proven wrong -- after a couple of hours on snowshoes on the trail, soaking in the steaming outdoor mineral water pools surrounded by snow and mountain forests was like something from a fairy tale. And the handful of other visitors had interesting stories to share. She happily took the opportunity to have our picture taken together, too, and we didn't bother to correct them when they assumed we were a couple. Neither of us really wanted the day to end; we didn't leave until the sun went behind the mountains and the rangers ran us out, late enough our rumbling stomachs demanded we stop for dinner in South Tahoe on the way back.

Perhaps as a consequence, we decided to try something different the next day. We took a jaunt on skis right after breakfast, but we were both in practice now; even though we went another couple of miles past where we'd turned back the first day we were back at the cabin by lunchtime.

Amanda reminded me that we'd talked about taking in a show -- after all, it's only about an hour down the hill to Reno, and Friday night's usually less of a hassle than Saturday. And she'd never been to Reno -- dinner and a show sounded like a fun change of pace. Neither one of us had brought anything really dressy, but jeans and a sweater over running shoes beat our snow gear for a night out on the town. So we changed, threw on our jackets, and ran for the truck.

It really isn't that far -- north and east on 28 around the lake, past Tahoe City and Incline Village, then take the Mt. Rose highway past the ski area over the pass and on down to Reno.

I pointed out the Tahoe Meadows trailhead, a little before the Mt. Rose ski area, as we approached it. It's officially closed in winter, even though there are places to park along the shoulder, but in summer the wildflowers are amazing. It's a favorite easy hike, too, one of the first my parents had started me on when I was small. There's a small creek that runs through the meadows -- probably frozen, at this time of year -- and the trail crosses it a couple of times on footbridges. It's still a bit further to the top of the pass, but there's something about the shape of the land here that I've always liked -- it gives me a feeling of greater openness than it really should.

Perhaps I was too enthusiastic in describing it; Amanda asked me to stop for a picture. We weren't really dressed for the cold, but it shouldn't take long and we could warm up again in the truck -- I pulled off on the shoulder and helped her out.

As long as we watched our footing, the first couple of hundred yards of the trail wasn't that bad. It looked like we hadn't been the first to hike on this section today, either -- it connects to the Tahoe Rim Trail that circles the basin, and there are a few hardy souls who're up to the hike in winter conditions. Which we most assuredly weren't dressed for. All the same, we picked our way to the first bridge without too much trouble before Amanda found the spot she wanted.

The bridge is low -- basically, just a plank-bed walkway 15 or 20 feet long, no more than a foot or so above the level of the stream; there's no railing, just a low curb on either side to mark the edges. You could faintly see the course of the stream below, but as expected it was frozen over, with a drift of snow covering the ice.

Amanda took a few pictures showing the bridge and frozen stream, then handed me her phone and asked me to take a few with her standing on the bridge. She smiled brightly and posed, then made her mistake -- she stepped back without looking. She'd stayed well away from the edge, but hadn't noticed the patch of packed snow; her feet slid out from under her and she went off the bridge onto the ice.

By itself, the drop wasn't that bad -- she'd landed on her back, not her head, so it shouldn't have done more than knock the wind out of her. But the ice wasn't as solid as it looked -- the water underneath was fast-moving enough to keep it from freezing completely through, and it cracked open under the impact. With a splash, she went completely under.

"Amanda!" Shallow or not, that water was cold enough to put her in shock. I'd done a course on winter first aid; hitting hard and going under like that, the shock could cause paralysis, involuntary inhalation, and disorientation. If I didn't get her out immediately, she might drown, especially if she washed down far enough to be under the unbroken ice.

I don't remember moving -- it seemed that one moment I was watching her fall, the next I was next to the bridge. I couldn't reach her from the pathway, but I thought I could get to her if I waded in from the bank. Fortunately, Amanda had fallen on the bridge's upstream side and hadn't washed under it, but it still looked bad; she was still moving, but her head was underwater and she was visibly slowing.

I gritted my teeth and waded in; my legs went numb almost immediately, but I was able to reach her without going much more than knee-deep. Moving fast, I was able to snag a wrist and pull her to shore.

Her fit of coughing was one of the sweetest sounds I'd ever heard -- she might have inhaled some water, but she was still breathing. I scooped her dripping body up in my arms and ran for the truck.

Thankfully, there wasn't much of a wind, but she was soaked to the skin; her teeth were chattering like castanets by the time we reached it.

"Strip! Get everything off!" My legs were freezing, but at least my upper body was dry and warm. Amanda was much worse, soaked to the skin, and right now her clothes were more liability than help -- wet cotton holds water, and the wet cloth was wicking heat away faster than air would have.

When she didn't respond right away, I started undressing her myself, pulling off her shoes and socks, then unzipping her sodden jacket and tossing it beside them on the rear seat. She was disoriented, but not totally out -- her hands were shaking, but she started unbuttoning her shirt on her own. I let her work at that as I unzipped her jeans and worked them gently down her shivering legs. She managed to get her shirt open, but I needed to help her slide it off. She gave me a wide-eyed look as I continued on to unhook her bra, then pulled off her panties as well.

Under other circumstances, I'd have loved to see her like this. At the moment, though, her nakedness barely registered as I pulled one of the emergency blankets from the back and wrapped it around her before belting her into the passenger seat and closing the door.

I got the truck started and turned the heat as high as it would go. It helped; Amanda was still shivering but she looked a little better and more focused.

"How are you feeling? Did you injure anything in the fall?"

She shook her head. "No. Just winded at first. And c-c-cold!"

"Do you need to see a doctor?"

She shook her head again. "No. Just get me back to the cabin, and put me in the hot tub." She took a moment to suppress a fit of shivering before continuing "It feels like I'll never be warm again."

I got her there as fast as I could safely manage; 4WD may be good in case you're stuck, but it doesn't help a bit if you take a corner too fast and slide off the road. Driving with cautious speed, it took a good 20 minutes or so to reach the cabin; even with the heater blasting, her teeth still chattered occasionally.

I pulled up as close to the front door as I could, then scooped her up again. Amanda sighed and nestled close as I carried her through the house and on to the back porch, then winced slightly as I unwrapped her and lowered her into the hot water.

I watched her anxiously, but after a few moments, she smiled and spread her arms wide on the edge of the tub, arching her back as she felt the heat beginning to soak in.

As it sank in that she'd be OK I could feel the adrenaline beginning to wear off. And I realized that I'd been staring at her bare breasts. Her very shapely, very sexy bare breasts. She giggled as I blushed and averted my eyes.

"I'll bring you your bikini and a robe."

"A robe, maybe. Don't bother with the bikini -- you told me you don't usually wear a suit out here yourself. Anyway, you've already seen everything of mine that there is to see and it doesn't seem to bother you too much. But could you manage a hot drink?"

I could feel my face glowing. "I've been doing my best not to see everything there is to see, Amanda. Even though I do like it. But OK -- I'll put the kettle on, and bring in your wet clothes so we can dry them out."

Another giggle followed as I beat a rapid retreat.

I took the time to move the truck to its regular parking spot, then set up drying racks next to the stove and hung up her wet clothes. By then, the kettle was whistling.

"Here's your drink -- my grandmother's prescription for the winter cold, black tea with lots of brown sugar."

She sipped cautiously, then took a bigger mouthful. "You're right -- it's really sweet, but it does seem to help. Thanks! I'm beginning to think I'm going to live. But you're wet too. Join me?"

"OK -- let me go get my suit."

She coughed a bit at first, but it went away as she kept laughing And her smile was her familiar pixie-like grin. "Don't! You've had your free show -- it's my turn now. Just fetch us some robes and towels."

Amanda watched as I undressed. My boots and socks really didn't want to come off, and my pants were almost as bad; it took much longer than I liked to get them all off, and she got a good look at me while it happened. I'm pretty certain that my cheeks were flaming by the time I slid into the tub, even if my legs were covered with goosebumps. At least the cold helped me to keep from showing a visible reaction to what I could see of her body.

Her voice sounded hesitant: "It's OK to look at me. I know I'm not your type, but I think you like the view a little bit."

I turned to look at her. She'd sunk low enough in the tub that there wasn't much to see; only her head was above water. And with her long hair wet and stringy she didn't look very seductive, either. It didn't matter; she was alive, and -- to me at least -- was the most desirable woman in the world. I could have lost her so easily -- she could have struck her head, or she could have slipped under the bridge, and I could be waiting for her outside an emergency room. Or morgue.

I was done playing it safe. I just hoped she'd be willing to at least try to make it work. At worst, she'd push me away, but she'd be alive -- that would have to do.

"Amanda, I was trying not to look at you because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to look away again. And you are exactly my type. I've been falling for you all the time since I've first met you, even if I was hiding it from myself. I know you probably don't feel that way about me. But I thought I'd lost you this afternoon, and I can't pretend anymore." Somehow, I got it all out.

I watched her face. It didn't look good -- her face went slack with surprise. I slumped and started to turn away when she started laughing hysterically - I'd hoped she'd at least let me down gently.

She didn't let me escape; suddenly, I felt her bare body plastered against me as she mashed her mouth against mine in a rough kiss. After a frozen moment, I responded and pulled her tight as our tongues dueled.

We were both breathless when we finally broke apart, but she recovered first. "You, you, idiot! You really are Captain Clueless, sometimes! 'You probably don't feel that way about me.' Really? I've been doing everything but taking out billboard ads trying to show I was interested! And you never responded at all."

I tried to glare at her, but couldn't manage; my face hurt I was smiling so hard. "It must have been billboards in a foreign language, then. Or I was afraid of reading them wrong. I'm interested. I'm very interested. I'm crazy about you, Amanda."

I think she said "Good" back at me. But with her mouth plastered against mine again, it was hard to understand.

A hot tub really isn't the best place to make love, but it's a great place to make out. And we took full advantage of it. After that second intense kiss, we'd shifted, leaving her sitting almost demurely across my lap. 'Almost' - if we'd been wearing suits. As it was, it positioned her perfectly to grind her bare bottom against my stiffening cock as our tongues fenced and explored. And to press a firm breast into the hand not pulling her body tighter against me.

Despite my ... amply endowed ... recent girlfriends, I've never particularly cared about breast size. I'm a guy, and by definition maybe a little shallow, so I react to them reflexively. But even in my hormone-driven pimply teens, their primary attraction had been that they belonged to a girl I liked. So even though I'd enjoyed playing with Pat's ample rack, I'd expected to enjoy Amanda's too. What I hadn't expected was how much more touching hers turned me on, because they were hers. And how much she seemed to enjoy my hands touching them; I could hear a moan as I kneaded her breast and rolled its thick stubby nipple in my fingers.