Ice-Cold, Red-Hot

(Boston/Cambridge residents will note that this story is set in the early 1980's, when the MBTA Red Line Extension was still under construction. Apologies for any mis-remembered details.)



February—the cold, dark heart of winter in Boston. And tonight it was so cold--well below zero--that the wind itself seemed to have been frozen into stillness. As Marilyn stepped out of her apartment building she thought she could feel the cold seeping right through the soles of her boots from the concrete steps beneath her. She hugged herself as she hurried the few blocks to the subway entrance. It wouldn't be so bad, she thought, if she hadn't dressed to please Dan. He wasn't picky about most things but she knew he preferred her in dresses or skirts—and that he hated finding anything but panties underneath them. On occasion a garter-belt and stockings but never tights or pantyhose. She knew it was only a preference but she liked to please him—which was why she was scurrying down the sidewalk with her legs freezing, despite the boots and socks which came up to her knees and the wool skirt and half-slip which came down to them beneath her quilted winter coat.

It was a huge relief to get on the noisy, over-heated train to Cambridge and recover somewhat, though she knew there was more to be endured. Dan was to meet her in Harvard Square but then they would have to walk to the bus stop and wait for transportation to Porter Square, where he lived. They were both too broke for a taxi and it was too far to walk on a night like this.

Dan would normally meet her on the sidewalk but tonight he was waiting in the stairwell of the subway station to take advantage of the warm air rising from below. His smile as he spotted her coming up the stairs made her tingle as it always did. Marilyn had never considered herself a particularly attractive woman but Dan's affectionate nature and unflagging desire for her had always made her feel special.

Even now, standing in the stairwell as people hustled by them in both directions, he had taken her gloved hands in his ungloved ones (he claimed that just keeping them in his coat pockets kept them warmer) and after a quick greeting kiss had simply stood there for a moment looking into her eyes with a gaze, equal parts affection and lust, that made her weak in the knees with its promise of what was to come. Then he linked his arm with hers, slipped his hand back into his coat pocket, and led her out into the polar night.

It seemed just a tiny bit warmer in Harvard Square than it had been in Boston, though that might have been the psychological effect of the brighter lights and the greater number of people moving around, apparently determined not to let the temperature interfere with their Friday night entertainments. The effect quickly wore off however as Dan led her away from the square and onto a darker side street.

There was construction going on—the subway line was being extended, and someday Marilyn would be able to ride all the way out to Porter Square, thank heaven. If only it was possible tonight, she thought, shivering. But a new subway station was being erected here, where the buses had formerly stopped, so a temporary shelter had been knocked together on the sidewalk in front of it—not much more than a park bench roofed and surrounded on three sides with plywood.

Marilyn looked longingly at the new station. It would be easy enough to get there—the chicken-wire fence surrounding the station was ramshackle and had even fallen down in places—but all the entrances were boarded up. The brick columns near the entrance might provide some protection from the wind if there had been any. But there wasn't any wind—it was just really, really cold.

Dan led her to the bench and sat down, but Marilyn decided to stand, the better to shiver more freely. A bus came almost immediately, but it wasn't the right one. A couple of people got off and headed for the square. Dan looked at his watch and guessed they had at least fifteen, maybe twenty minutes to wait.

If we live that long, Marilyn thought dismally. She shuddered. Dan noticed, and looked her up and down. "You're not cold, are you?" he asked, jokingly.

Marilynn hugged herself more tightly and bounced up and down. "Cold?" she replied through chattering teeth, "W-why would I be c-cold?"

Dan smiled up at her. "Beats me. Though I 'd think maybe your legs would be a little chilly. Let's see..." He scooted over so that he was right next to her, and took his hand out of his pocket and slipped it under her skirt to rest gently on the back of her thigh, making her gasp. "Nope," he said, grinning now, "Seems pretty warm to me. So far."

And with that his hand crept slowly higher. Then higher. Finally it reached the curve of her behind, and he began to caress her there through the satiny fabric of her panties. "Oh yes, quite warm, I'd say."

Marilyn's eyes darted frantically left and right to see if anyone was coming. Although she had always loved the things she and Dan had done behind closed doors they had been behind closed doors—not on a public street where anyone might see them. She thought about telling him to stop, but she was afraid he would think her a prude. And it wasn't as if anyone could really see what he was doing—he was sitting so close to her that his arm was completely hidden behind her coat, so the actual location of his hand was impossible to judge.

And a good thing, too, because here came a portly, middle-aged man, so bundled up that only his eyes were visible, walking his dog at a quick march. They passed within inches of Marilyn and Dan, and Marilyn blushed and bit her lip as she felt her panties being drawn tightly between her legs. She must have made some sound as well because the man with the dog turned his head slightly to look at her as he passed, and to Marilyn, in her agitated state, it was if the man could tell she was standing there letting herself be fondled in public.

Marilyn hadn't had that many boyfriends in her life and she often felt that her shyness and lack of experience kept her from pleasing Dan as much as she wanted to. He had given her a little gentle guidance from time to time and had never complained about her occasional awkwardness—but she still felt inadequate and wanted very much to learn how to please him. So she said nothing, even though she felt that what she was allowing him to do to her was slutty and shameful.

She stood there, trying to keep her expression composed and breathe normally while he continued to stroke her thighs and behind and played with the fabric of her panties. But when she felt him tugging on the elastic of her panties, felt them begin to slide downwards, she couldn't help herself.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a tense whisper, trying not to move her lips or look at him, as if that might draw attention from passers by—not that there were any at the moment, but there might be.

Dan turned his face up to hers and smiled. "Oh, I think you know very well what I'm doing," he replied in a normal speaking voice. "In fact, why don't you tell me what I'm doing?"

Marilyn wanted terribly to tell him to shush and then to stop what he was doing—and he was still doing it: she felt her panties continuing to descend--a horrifying quarter-inch at a time. And now he wanted her to...to say right out loud... She knew he enjoyed having her talk about sexy things, that he got an especial pleasure out of it exactly because she was so shy and hesitant. The first time she had whispered the word 'cock' to him at his urging she had wanted to sink through the floor with embarrassment. And now he wanted her to do it right out here in the street! She closed her eyes. It's only words, she told herself. Nothing but words.

"Y-you're..." She whispered, then stopped for a moment, then forced herself to go on. "You're...pulling..." She made herself open her eyes and watch the rest of the words become clouds of icy vapor in front of her. "...Pulling down my...p-p-panties!" Her lips quivered as she spoke, and not just from the cold. She had tried to convince herself on more than one occasion that she had outgrown the influence of her hyper-conservative, fundamentalist parents, that she was free of their disapproval of all things pleasurable-- and sometimes, when she and Dan were naked together in bed and making love, she truly believed it. But this was a line she had never crossed before.

"That's right," Dan said, still smiling but watching her expression carefully. "I'm pulling your panties down. You'd better move your legs apart if you don't want them to fall down."

Marilyn had a sudden vision of herself standing there on the sidewalk with her shiny blue panties lying crumpled on the tops of her boots for anyone to see—just as she felt those same panties sliding past her hip-bones under her skirt. She gasped and quickly took a wider stance, just in time to keep her panties stretched across the tops of her thighs. If Dan didn't pull them up again they would fall the instant she tried to take a step, she just knew it.

"Nice save," Dan said, grinning. He plucked the taut elastic of her panties as if it were a stringed instrument. Then he reached inside them and began to stroke the delicate skin of her inner thigh using just the tips of his fingers—light, feathery touches, moving slowly upward until they reached the junction of her pelvis and thigh. Marilyn no longer knew of she was shivering...or quivering.

Oh lord, here came another couple down the sidewalk, and they (Omigod, no!) stopped next to the shelter, apparently waiting for a bus. Surely Dan would stop, pull her panties back up...

But instead she felt his fingertips begin gently brushing through her pubic hair. She would have fainted from embarrassment except that if she did she knew her panties would fall down. She bit her lip, hard, trying desperately not to let her expression give the faintest hint of what was going on beneath her skirt.

Ohhhh...now she felt his palm brushing against her sex, cupping her there, while his fingers continued to comb and play with the hair above it. What was the matter with him?

Did he not see the couple standing almost next to them?

...Or the bus coming towards them? She prayed that this would be their bus. Then he would have to stop--Oh!...she gasped in spite of every effort not to--squeezing her there—Oh god! --and pull up her panties.

But it was not their bus. On the good side, however, it was apparently the bus the other couple had come to meet. Once they had boarded and the bus was gone, Marilyn opened her mouth to speak but Dan beat her to it.

"How are you doing? Still feeling cold?' He sounded solicitous but there was also a gleam in his eye and Marilyn knew very well what he was really asking: 'Are you enjoying what I'm doing to you?' She had to admit that she hadn't been aware of the cold—or of anything other than his hand, for that matter—and that in fact she was feeling considerably warmer than she had when they had arrived. Still, she was going to tell him just how uncomfortable and humiliating she found his public groping of her to be. She once again opened her mouth to speak...

...And felt her jaw fall loose and her head tilt back as Dan slid a finger between her (she now noticed) extremely moist lips and found her clitoris. A wave of heat, and then another, and then another rippled through her, right up to the roots of her hair, as he stroked her clitoris with a fingertip. Cold? She was burning up! She had to fight the urge to unzip her coat and throw it open.

She felt her hips responding to his touch, falling of their own volition into the rhythm of his strokes. The movement was small and certainly not visible beneath her coat, but oh, she was acting like such a slut!

Not that she cared anymore. She was so aroused, so...hot! She didn't see how she could possibly wait for the bus to arrive—then the ride to Porter Square...the walk to Dan's apartment...the unlocking of the door... Though she knew objectively that it was only a matter of a few minutes, in her current state they seemed to stretch before her like unending torment. She wanted him now! Wanted him to bend her over right there, lift up her...

Her eyes, which had been closed, snapped open. What had she been thinking earlier? Something about...the station!

In an instant she had reached down, grabbed Dan's arm and started dragging him over the fallen portion of the fence and toward the station. Her panties, as predicted, had fallen to her ankles with her first step but she kicked them off without even breaking her stride or looking back to see where they landed.

Dan was wondering out loud what she thought she was doing and telling her that they would miss their bus, but Marilyn didn't waste her breath trying to answer him. She knew he would find out soon enough.

She dragged him behind the first of the brick pillars they came to and without even checking to be sure they were hidden from view threw herself at him, thrusting her tongue into his mouth as she frantically tore off her gloves and began fumbling, first at the buttons of his coat and then at the zipper of his pants. In seconds she had his cock out.

Dan was muttering against her mouth and when she broke away managed to gasp, "...the hell are you doing?" He might have had more to say but was struck dumb when she turned her back on him and bent over, simultaneously reaching behind her to raise her coat, skirt and slip up over her waist.

Oh god, she could feel her skin turning into goose-bumps from her knees to the small of her back as the cold struck her there. So cold...and yet so unbearably hot at the core! She leaned her crossed arms against the pillar for support and stood with her legs apart, completely exposed to him.

She looked back over her shoulder. Dan was staring between her legs, stunned. Oh god, she couldn't wait for him to figure it out. "Put it in," she hissed. Then to her own shock she blurted out: "Fuck me, Danny! Now!"

That snapped him out of his trance and in an instant he had seized her by the hips and thrust into her so deeply that she cried out, her voice echoing among the pillars. Ah, so hot, so hot!—he was filling her with heat! With every slap of his hips against her behind she felt her pores opening up, felt the prickle of sweat on her forehead and scalp. Now it was running down her face...oh god, so hot, so hot... It was building up inside her like a volcano!...she was going to...oh god, oh god.... She suddenly remembered that she was holding her gloves in one hand and stuffed them into her mouth. Just in time, too:

"AHHHHHhhhhhhh....!"

A moment later she felt Dan reaching his climax, felt him spurting inside her as he gasped and wrapped his arms around her waist. He rested his head and chest against her back for a moment, then considerately withdrew and quickly pulled her coat and clothing back down before taking care of his own.

Not that it mattered to Marilyn—she was still sweating freely as she struggled to bring her breathing under control. What a wonderful, cool night it was!

Dan was staring at her, pleased but utterly bewildered by what had just happened. She put her arms around him and kissed him.

"To hell with the bus," she said. "Let's walk."