North

In spite of the rain, Marjie took Rebel off to pee while I got us checked in. I pulled around to the side door -- all the room doors were along the interior hallway -- and grabbed our bags from the back. When I returned to the truck for the cooler, Marjie was running toward the door. Rebel was bouncing along beside her. He was in heaven. I never ran him like that. The idle thought drifted through my mind that I could leave him with her in Quesnel. Then she could keep him or I could pick him up when I went north again.

I discarded the idea almost immediately. I've never been one to slough my dogs off on other people. I was raised learning how to care for pets and the responsibility had taken root. Rebel was mine until he died -- or I did, whichever came first. Her cheeks were rosy when she got to me. The rain had soaked her hair and made mats out of Rebel's fur. I grabbed the trash bag with Rebel's towels in it from the back of the truck. He was going to need them.

In the room Marjie stripped to the skin and used one of the bath towels to dry off while I did the same for Rebel. I didn't do such a good job on the dog because I was too busy watching Marjie. Her belly was flat and she had very little pubic hair. In the light from the nearly closed curtains I caught sight of a silvery line just below her navel that I hadn't noticed that morning. I realized I was looking at a stretch mark from her pregnancy. It meant that she had been fairly well along when she lost the baby.

She was sitting on the bed with her hair forward as she toweled it. Suddenly she jerked her head up, flipping the curtain of hair to the back. She caught me watching her and her lips curled into a slow smile. She leaned back on her elbows and moved her knees apart. My heart thumped in my chest. It was such an erotic move I felt my mouth water. I dropped Rebel's towel on the floor and walked on my knees to the bed. I moved between her legs and caressed her thighs. Her smile never wavered. I leaned forward. Her taste was wonderful. Once she climaxed, I stripped down and moved up on top of her.

Later we finished the vodka before we dressed and went out for dinner. I was surprised at how much she ate. When I commented, she just said I'd made her work up an appetite. We laughed and clinked our beer glasses together. We had another beer after dinner. Marjie had a shot with hers. I looked at my watch and saw that it was not quite 7:00. Before returning to the motel I made a stop at the liquor and grocery stores. I knew they were right next to each other so one stop took care of both needs.

I told Marjie to go in and get some stuff for snacking on while I walked over to the liquor store. We'd discussed the relative merits of American vs. Canadian beer over dinner. I bought a half case of my preferred (American) brand and a six-pack of Molson's for Marjie. I stashed the beer in the truck and joined her in the grocery store. She was already in line. I examined what she'd picked out and dashed off to grab a couple more things that I wanted.

Back at the room we put everything that needed cooling in the cooler with some fresh ice. Marjie turned on the television and flipped through the channels. I called my brother and told him where I was. I hadn't told him about Marjorie yet, since there hadn't been any opportunity. It didn't seem like a good time to try to explain her right then, either so I hung up letting him think it was just Rebel I meant when I accidentally said 'we' a couple of times during the conversation.

I opened the atlas and found the map of B.C. I confirmed what I thought I remembered from previous trips. It looked like roughly 60 or 70 miles to Chetwynd and another couple hundred to Prince George. Beyond that it was about 70 more miles to Quesnel. Under normal circumstances it was an easy drive. I've covered twice that much in a day on my earlier trips. Even with my slackened schedule I might have gone on to Williams Lake -- for a total mileage of just over 500.

I reminded myself that the road from Dawson Creek to Prince George led back across the Rockies. There was no telling what we'd run into up there in November. We were about 230 miles south of Fort Nelson at Dawson Creek, and the weather was fair. Climbing back into the mountains would take us back into winter. There was no certainty we'd make even Prince George by tomorrow night.

Between Chetwynd and P.G. there was only one place on the map that might have shelter that time of year. I'd never stayed at McLeod Lake, but it was a year-round community so I was confident something should be open. Long haul trucks make the trip all year round. Still, it was only a little over 200 miles from Dawson Creek to there. If it was an emergency, then we'd be fine. I hoped to get farther than that, however.

I closed the atlas and slid down to the pillow. Marjie had been watching some Canadian or British sitcom. I waited until it ended before asking her for the remote. She handed it to me and gave me a quick kiss before stumbling off to the bathroom. I recalled how much I'd seen her drink that night.

I flipped through the channels until I located the weather channel. So far they were forecasting decent weather where we'd be traveling the next day. I offered up a little prayer that it would hold. I sat up and took off my shirt. I sat on the bed and popped another beer while waiting for Marjie to finish getting ready for bed. She came out just as I was draining my beer. I stood up and looked at her. She was naked. We hadn't been together long enough for the wonder of her beauty to have paled for me. I just let my eyes caress all her curves and valleys. She continued across the room to me and hugged me. She smelled great. She hadn't showered, but she didn't need to. I inhaled her natural scent and rubbed her round butt. She bit my nipple and I was instantly erect.

"Let me go brush my teeth and get out of these clothes. I have plans for you."

"Okay," she said. "I'll warm up your spot." I assumed she meant the bed, but then I wasn't sure if that was the spot she meant. I let go of her and walked into the bathroom. I noticed that she had washed her panties again, along with her tee shirt. She hadn't brought any clothes with her at all. In Ft. Nelson she had picked up a sweat shirt and some long johns along with the spare panties. I hoped neither of us would need the long underwear. If we did, it would mean we would probably be walking.

We made love twice that night. Marjie slipped down my body to use her mouth on me, just as I had done for her earlier. When I pulled her arm she realized I wanted her to stop before it was too late. When she began to settle herself on my hips I tugged her legs to get her to move farther up. She gently lowered her aromatic crotch to my face. I gripped her ass and she gripped the headboard as she climaxed. Then she slipped down again and impaled herself on my stiff erection. There was no gradual entry; just a quick stab and I felt her weight settle across me. I expected her to pound down at me after the sudden penetration but she just rocked back and forth a while, smiling down at me. We held hands and just felt our joining.

She leaned forward to kiss me. Her tongue was like a butterfly, slipping into my mouth and out, running across each lip separately, then back into my mouth. She rolled her tongue into a tube and slipped it in and out of my mouth. For obvious reasons it increased the eroticism of our act. Eventually the sensual pleasure mounted too high to dally any longer. She began to move faster and I thrust my hips up to meet her. It didn't take too long for us to reach our peaks. We arrived there together, or near enough as to make no difference. Sweat glowed over her upper body and added to the fluids we had both released between us. She collapsed on top of me, breathing hard, and I hugged her.

We rested and kissed a while as we recovered. Then, without leaving the sheath of her body I rolled us over. We rearranged our legs so hers were once again outside of mine. I nibbled her nipples a while before rising over her and moving higher to kiss her. Then I leaned farther forward and asked her to suck my nipples. Sherry had been the first woman to suck my nipples. I learned that it was an intense turn-on for me. She had gotten the notion on her own, though, once she learned I liked it, she did it whenever she thought of it. With Marjie, I asked for it and it felt strange. Marjie moaned as she sucked and nipped on my little nubs. Shivers skittered up and down my spine and I grew incredibly hard inside her. "Harder," I whispered, and felt even more...what? I guess it was a kind of wantonness I was feeling. Just the asking turned me on more.

Marjorie responded and I felt the intense pain/pleasure as her teeth clamped onto me. I slammed into her as she bit me. My movements pulled my nipple away a little with each thrust and it increased the intensity of what she was doing to me. I erupted into her with a heavy throbbing that surprised me, considering it was my second climax in less than an hour. I continued to thrust and Marjie's teeth released my tender nipples as her mouth opened for a wail that announced her own second orgasm. Her legs clamped to my hips and her inner tissues clamped my rapidly deflating member.

When I relaxed next to her that time I knew I was done for the night. She hunched her hips against mine and whispered as she drifted off to sleep, "I could get used to this, Don." I had been feeling the lethargy that overcame me after vigorous sex. Her comment brought me back to alertness. I'd been thinking the same thing but didn't tell her. I mulled the thought over as sleep regained its hold on my mind and dropped the curtain on the day.

As I stood over the toilet peeing the next morning Marjie slipped into the shower. As she stepped in her hand slid across my ass in caress. It felt great. I recalled her words from the night before. I had a dilemma. I was undecided whether I should ask her to skip Quesnel and continue south with me. I really wanted to. It was great having winters off work and being able to do pretty much as I pleased. Still, it always felt like I was killing time until my life started into motion again. The things I saw and the places I went were beautiful and amazing, but I always had the feeling they would have been better if I could share the experience with somebody. I took pictures and showed them to my friends later, but that wasn't the same.

The room filled with steam and I slipped into the shower behind Marjie. She leaned back against me and our bodies melded together. I slipped my hands under her arms and around her under her small tits. I slid them from her collar bone, over her hard-tipped breasts and down the outward curve of her belly. She sighed and leaned her head back against my chest as I stroked her, revisiting places a few times over. I reached as far down as I could, to where her thighs came together and I cupped her mound. The hot water coursed down and over us both. She turned her head and I kissed her. I was happier than I'd been for a long, long time. I gradually released my hold on her and she stood away from me. I wiped the water from my eyes and looked at her.

I knew she was feeling the tendrils of the bond forming between us, just as I was. We were rapidly approaching a point of no return in our relationship and we both knew that. I splashed her with a handful of water and she giggled, splashing me back. We played and scrubbed each other until our skin was flushed and tingly. When we stepped out we clumsily tried to dry each other at the same time. We finally admitted it was impossible. So I told her to wait and I dried her off first. She returned the favor for me and we got dressed.

We were back on the road by 7:30. The weather channel said conditions were the same, but travelers should carry chains at all times. The forecast was for high and broken overcast. That meant it would be cold, but better that than a blizzard or freezing rain. The road south out of Dawson Creek ran through some low hills before it began to climb up into the foothills of the Rockies again. The roadside slush gave way fairly quickly to unmelted snow heaps left behind by the plows after they had cleared the first layers from the road.

Along with my big cooler I had a smaller one that I kept in the cab of the truck so I could snack without stopping. As the miles rolled under us I drank coffee from the thermos. Marjie drank some water, ate jerky and chips with dip and talked. I learned all about Marjie's family -- her three sisters (two older and one younger), her mother and more about her dad. In return I explained about how I got to the North and about my smaller family.

"So where do you go in Arizona all winter?" It was the first time she had asked any details other than where I was headed. She had the atlas open on her lap to the page with the map of Arizona.

"Well, I've stayed a couple of different places. I like Tucson best. One winter I rented a house in Bisbee, but it was too far from anything else, except Mexican border towns." I glanced at her and she found Bisbee.

"There it is! Wow, it really is close to the border. It's smaller than Tucson, eh?"

"Yeah -- a lot. There was a great big copper mine there, but it's closed now."

"Hey, there's Tombstone! O.K. Corral and Wyatt Earp! I know all about that."

"Yeah, it's about halfway between Tucson and Bisbee." She studied the map with a lot of interest.

"So, it's nice there in the winter, eh?"

"Well it's nicer than here. The last few years it was cooler than when I lived there, but still better than this." I stepped on the accelerator as we started up a long curving hill. The engine shifted into a lower gear and we climbed. I thought I knew where her interest in Arizona was taking us. I hadn't thought about much else all morning. When she popped a beer I was kind of surprised. She caught me glancing at my watch.

"No worries. I'll take it easy," she said. I thought there was an edge in her voice.

"Hey, as long as you aren't driving and we don't get stopped I don't care. It's just a little early, that's all."

We topped the hill and began to descend the shorter far side. Rebel whined and moved into the space between the front seats, his feet resting on the console between them. I recognized the signs. He had to pee -- at least. At the bottom of the hill, I pulled to the side of the road. I pulled my parka out of the corner of the back seat where Rebel had been using it as a pillow. Opening the door I made quick work of putting it on. I grabbed the leash from under my seat and clipped it to his collar. He jumped to the ground and I closed the door.

I pressed the button to let Rebel extend the leash. He wagged his way into the low scrubby underbrush, sniffing as he went. He stopped here and there to mark his passing and broke through the brush into a spot that only held some dead yellowed grass, matted to the frozen earth. He took on a frantic pacing back and forth that indicated he was going to take a dump. I lit a cigarette and waited.

While he took care of business I looked around. The clouds were still high, but I could smell the cold, and it also smelled like snow. That might sound strange to people who have never spent time in places that get real winter. It's true, though. You can smell the weather sometimes, just like the scent of the air changes after a rain. In fact, as I stood there waiting for Rebel to finish a couple of flakes fell. I smoked and waited. When my dog stood up and pawed some dirt toward the pile he'd left I pushed the button to retract the leash. He felt the tug and, following it, he came to me happily enough. Marjie was doing something in the back of the truck.

I opened the door and Rebel jumped into the back seat. I repeated my earlier motions in reverse: unclipping Rebel, stashing the leash and pulling my coat off. I got back into the truck. When Marjie got in she had a fresh beer in her hand.

In a few minutes we were climbing another hill. I have made it a habit to take notes as I travel. I log my mileage at the beginning and the end of the day, as well as expenses, stops, and sometimes intermediate mileage. Everything was kept in a small notebook that "lived" in my truck. I double checked the distance from Dawson Creek to Prince George. Barring any bad weather we could reach Prince George, have an early dinner and decide whether to go on or not. If we did I figured on making Quesnel just after dark. The miles rolled by and we spoke little. Marjie would ask a question now and then -- about me or about my life. I'd answer and we'd fall silent again. When one silence stretched out longer than usual I glanced over to see she had dozed off.

She slept until I had to pull over to pee. She had to go too, and we moved a little apart in the leafless brush. We both gave off steam clouds in the frigid air. Marjie glanced my way and called over, "I still say it's unfair that girls have to freeze their asses while guys only have to get a little part of them cold."

"Hey! What are you calling little?" I countered. That made her laugh. I got back into the truck but Marjie grabbed her empties and stashed them in back, and returned with two full ones. I was starting to wonder a little about her.

As it turned out I decided to stop at Prince George. The weather was supposed to worsen and I just didn't need the stress. It was only an hour or so from P.G. to Quesnel, but neither of us wanted to pass up the opportunity for another night together. We checked into a Travelodge and went to the restaurant.

We had more drinks with dinner and were pretty loaded by the time we went back to the room. I walked Rebel and Marjie watched TV. It was a repeat of the night (and morning) before. I think she felt as desperate as I did, not wanting to face the next day and our parting. As she snored I lay awake, pondering whether to ask her to come with me. Finally the alcohol took effect and I slept.

******************************************

The next day was bright and sunny. The weatherman had been wrong (big shock). We didn't say much after we made love again, showered and dressed. We had breakfast and Marjorie didn't look at me much. I reached across the table and took her free hand. Then she did look at me. Her eyes traveled over my face and returned to my eyes. I squeezed her hand and took a deep breath.

"You know, you can always come with me to Arizona," I told her. Her eyes widened a little but she didn't say anything at first. She glanced away and then back.

"Don...you're sweet. I really love being with you. On top of that, you're a dog lover." She paused and took a bite of toast. I thought I knew where she was going. When she looked back at me there was a shine in her eyes. "You don't know much about me. You've noticed that I'm an alcoholic. I've noticed you aren't. That kind of relationship is doomed from the start – I know."

"But that can be controlled," I protested. She snorted.

"Only if a person wants to control it," she said. " Haven't you heard about us "injuns"? We're regular alkies if we start drinking."

"That's just a stereotype, honey. You mean you don't find anything in life to make you want to cut your drinking down?"

"Oh, it isn't that so much, it's just that...well, I couldn't 'cut down'. I'd have to stop completely. I'm not sure I'm strong enough for that. Besides, you like to drink, though it doesn't seem to have the hold on you it does on me."

She was right, I realized. Though my parents had been drinkers – my brother thought they were alcoholics, but I wasn't sure any more what the term really meant – I didn't feel a 'need' to drink. I just liked it. I could take it or leave it. My brother didn't drink at all.

I pushed the cold hash browns around on my plate. I looked back at her and saw her tears had brimmed over and were running down her cheeks. She wasn't doing anything to impede them. "Marjie...listen, I'm not proposing marriage. I've been there, done that and I know it isn't for me. Come with me for the winter. Then, if you want me to, I can bring you back in the spring." Her hand tightened around mine. She looked up at me. Then she swiped at the tears with her napkin. She blew her nose and just sat there.