Hidden In the Snow Ch. 01

"Yep, it looks like one heckuva shit-storm is heading our way. Pardon my French, Miss," the driver had grumbled at Julie, who sat at the backseat and looked at the frozen road outside her window, grimacing.

She had leaned forward, so he could hear her voice over the car engine."Really, you think so?"

"You betcha. My boss -- may he die a thousand deaths -- called me off the graveyard shift I was supposed to work tonight. Called off almost everyone from the station who was supposed to work tonight. And that sonuvabitch doesn't call off anyone -- unless it something real bad, like this weather here. Again, pardon my French."

Julie graciously smiled at him and leaned backward on her seat.

Now, looking outside the window in her bedroom, she began to understand what he was talking about.

God, let this weather calm down by tomorrow, she prayed silently. I won't be able to stay sequestered to this place for the all day with Bailey and Aunt Krystal. I just won't be.

Then she heard a faint knock on the door.

Julie cautiously walked towards the door, moving barefooted over pinewood flooring. She paused for a moment, a wreath of air caught in her lungs.

"Who is it?" she asked tentatively.

"It's me, honey," her mother's voice.

A sense of relief rushed through her body as she opened the door for her mom.

Debra walked in, wearing a beautiful, crimson colored, stretch nightgown that ended a few inches above her knees and with a cleavage that left very little to the imagination. Her golden hair, showered and combed, fell neatly over her shoulders. She quickly entered and sat on the edge of Julie's bed, softly tapping a nervous right fist against a sweaty left palm.

"So, Jules... we didn't get to speak much the all day," Debra said, looking down at her nail polished toes.

"Yeah, I know. I guess I just had to get outta the house for a while. You know..."

Debra nodded her head. The skin tightened around her closed lips.

"So, Mom," Julie took a step closer to her mother. "Did you talk to Aunt Krystal? You know, about what we spoke?"

Debra nodded again, still peering down at her toes. "I did. I did, and..." she raised her head to look at Julie, but froze when she met her eyes.

Dressed in a sexy white camisole and a low-cut pair of bright pink shorts, the twenty-two-year-old looked like she had just stepped out of one of Debra's salacious dreams. Her white top, cropped at the midriff, exposed her flat, taut stomach. Pink shorts covered the smallest amount of her shapely ass, revealing just a little skin from the bottom curves of her buttocks.

Debra followed the inseam of Julie's shorts with her eyes; she studied the line, which curved around her daughter's sleek thigh, and then stopped at the crotch, where the subtle protrusion of Julie's nether lips poked at the fabric.

Her beauty was almost mythical in the way it turned its appreciators into thoughtless, motionless statues.

"Mom?" Julie's voice roused Debra from her reverie.

Debra's dark eyes jumped at Julie. "Sweetie?"

"You were saying something?"

"Yes," She cleared her throat. "Krystal -- I did speak with her."

Debra slid backwards on Julie's bed, dragging her bum across the mattress, until she felt a large pillow cushioning her back. The lower hem of her dress got pulled up a bit exposing just a tad of her beautifully tanned thighs.

"Come, lie next to me. I wanna talk to you." She said, lightly tapping on a vacant spot beside her.

Julie stared at her mother, a storm of bewilderment settled across her face. Her lower lip was jutted out in a pout, its pink flesh glistering like white sand on a summer day.

Debra saw that lip and she wanted to conquer it. She wanted to sweep her tongue and suck the pink youth out of that glorious lip. And then force that lip down under, at the spot between her legs, and make it --

Then she blinked her eyes twice and hard, and the lewd images vanished from her head. It wasn't the time to get lost in such fantasies, she realized.

"Come on, sit." She asked again, graciously.

Julie slid next to her mother on the bed.

Debra inched closer to Julie and slowly began to run her fingers through her child's dark raven hair.

"Listen, before I speak about your Aunt Krystal, there's something I want to tell you about our family," Debra paused and then added: "My family."

Julie listened, a frown line delved between her eyebrows.

"My side of the family has always been more -- oh, how do I put it -- open towards the idea of interfamily relations." She said, and she was lying so close to Julie, she could feel her daughter's skin rippling with fresh goosebumps. She squeezed tighter against her and continued:

"Basically what this means is, we were doing things in our house, that were... well, let's say they weren't things we were suppose to talk about, if you know what I mean."

Julie's face turned ivory white. "Things like, what I saw last night?" she asked faintly, surprised that her throat was able to make a sound.

Debra nodded. "It's really hard to understand this -- not unless you lived through it, and I'm actually not going to try to explain, but I just need you to understand that for us, back then, it felt like the norm," she said, wrapping a warm arm around Julie's shoulders. "Just like for you growing up in a big wonderful house, having your own room, watching those game shows every night as a family. That was your norm. My norm... it was different. It was definitely different." She gasped for air and added: "Sweetheart, I know how strange it sounds..."

Julie lay 'on the bed, her body feeling useless. Her mother was hugging her with one hand and stroking her hair with the other. A slew of emotions raged through her body, harder and faster than the snowstorm that raged outside.

"It sounds wrong, that's what it sounds like, Mom," Julie said through tears that were burning the back of her throat. "I know it's not your fault, Mom, and that you were young, but there are laws against such things. I mean, Gramma and Grampa totally took advantage of --"

"Shhh," Debra said. "Your grandparents are long gone, and there's no point in speaking of them."

Debra moved even closer to Julie; she pressed her cheek against her daughter's and felt dry tears clogging between them. "Regardless of right or wrong, there is no one at fault here. Not Gramma, not Grampa, not Krystal, not me. When we did what we did, both me and your aunt were old enough to make decisions on our own. We chose to walk a certain path."

The more she heard, the more Julie felt like her body was sinking into the bed, like a bad dream where you're trapped in quicksand. She wanted to hate her mother, yet found herself unable to do so. In a way, she admired her for coming forward with such a dark secret, which her mother, most likely, kept buried in her past.

"And now, your aunt Krystal -- and I swear to God I didn't know it until today when you told me -- apparently, she still walks this very same path, this time, with her daughter."

Julie thought of Bailey. She was close to her, and she knew her so well -- or at least she thought so. Was Bailey just acting this all time? She wondered. Talking about boys; displaying acts of rebelliousness against her mother like every child. Is this all an act?

The thoughts jumbled in Julie's head; they jumped from Bailey to Krystal to her mother and then back to Bailey. There was a deep silence in the room, and for a while the only noises that were heard were the faint groans coming from the lodge's old foundations.

Debra let her hand rest on top of Julie's exposed flat belly, and pressed her lips against the side of her child's head, right above the ear, giving her a warm motherly kiss.

Julie edged closer to her mother. Somewhere in this sea of emotions and feeling of being lost, she welcomed the warmness. She enjoyed her mother's kiss; it felt like something ordinary and familiar in a moment that was fraught with unfamiliarity. And when her mother started to brush her hand across her stomach in warm friendly circles, she was soothed even more.

"What are you thinking about, sweetie?" Debra breathed in Julie's ear.

"Oh, I dunno. Nothing. Everything. I just don't know what to think," she said, dreamingly following the movements of her mother's hand over her belly.

She noticed the wrinkly lines across the fingers of the hand, and the skin that withered with age. That's when she realized that the years take their toll on anyone or anything. Her mother -- maybe once, a long time ago -- was like Krystal. And even then it was simply the result of her upbringing. But while Krystal had taken the lessons of her childhood and morphed them into a midlife sexual fantasy, using her daughter as the most vital toy in her game, her mother had bravely decided to shake the shadows of her past, and walk a new path. And that path was why Julie had turned out utterly normal, with the fondest childhood memories a person could ever ask for. She only had her mother to thank for that.

"I love you, Mom," Julie whispered, feeling like she meant every word.

"Now that's twice in one day that you said it," Debra told her, smiling. "I'm gonna start thinking you really mean it."

Julie giggled and wrapped her long legs around her mother's. "I mean it. I love you. And that's three times already."

Debra kissed her on the cheek. It was a big wet kiss that left a watery splotch across Julie's rosy skin.

"I love you too, honey."

They both lay on the bed, somewhat cuddled: Julie had her legs tangled with her mother's; their cheekbones pressed tightly against each other; their bodies exchanging pleasant and affectionate heat.

Debra brushed her left hand across her daughter's smooth belly. The hand moved up; sometimes sneaking a few fingers under the lower hem of the camisole, just beneath the valley of her breasts. And then sometimes it moved south; grazing over the bellybutton, sweeping just an inch above the belt line.

The right hand toyed with Julie's hair. The fingers grazed each lock of hair with a wealth of compassion, sending tiny waves of pleasure all the way down to her scalp.

"Mmmm..." Julie hummed. Her eyes closed, as she allowed the soothing sensations to take over her body.

She received another kiss from her mother -- right above the lips, and another kiss, an inch to the right.

The mature woman shifted her body even closer to her young offspring.

Julie felt her mother's breasts pressing against her arm, and she noticed how the nipples grew erect under the fabric of the woman's gown, to the point they were poking her skin.

Their noses were almost kissing. They inhaled and exhaled each other's breath, creating a warm circulation of air between their bodies.

Debra's left hand, feeling overly playful, traveled lower than ever before and now it was moving a hint above the waistband of Julie's pink shorts.

The twenty-two-year-old, who was known for her sharp mind and quick thinking among her school colleagues, was so beguiled by the feeling of comfort and delight that she didn't even notice at first when her mother slipped a hand under the elastic of her shorts.

With a hand pressed against the soft fabric of Julie's underwear, right above her delicate mound, Debra lowered her lips to her daughter's and hovered above them for a few precious moments.

Then Julie felt it.

The realization of it slowly trickled into her consciousness, like water from a wounded bucket. Her knees were the first to show signs of weakness but then it quickly transitioned to her entire legs, and arms, and neck, and before she sunk into that fragile point-of-no-return she realized that her mother was masturbating her. Then, the woman, who had once fed her by the spoon, and taught her how to tie her tiny shoes, pressed her lips against her mouth and gave her a kiss.

Julie was close to surrender to her mother's touch. Her thighs squeezed against each other, and the muscles in her pussy began to tighten.

Why fight it? She wondered. Who would know? Who would tell? Is it so awful after all? It's not. It's wonderful.

Her lips parted as a low moan escaped from her mouth, and it gave her mother a chance to push her tongue forward. But then quickly enough, a millisecond in real world time, a switch clicked in Julie's head. She knew it was wrong.

"What are you doing?" Julie snapped, and pushed her mother's face away from her.

Frightened, Debra withdrew her hand away from her daughter's shorts and clutched it tightly to her chest. The expression on her face was of shock and terror.

They both looked at each other, stunned and speechless. Julie's eyes were wide and mad. Her cheeks had flamed into a feverish red. Debra watched her, frozen. Her high, rich color was gone. She tried to say she was sorry, she tried to apologize and explain her sudden relapse, but Julie waved her off and headed straight to the door.

She clutched the doorknob and held the cold brass for a few seconds, contemplating. She looked back over her shoulder; a cold shadow crossed her face as she spoke.

"I'm going down to the living room," she said coldly. "Don't come after me. Don't any of you come after me. I just... I don't want to see you."

"Jule, wait—"

But it was too late. Julie had already stormed out of the room and headed down to the living room.

Outside, snow flurries were still raging all over Stowe. Main streets were blocked and the forests were heavily powdered. It was very clear that the snow was there to stay. And that meant, for the next twenty four hours, your home was your sanctuary. So you'd better make the most of it.

To be continued...