NYC Blizzard of 2016

The thrill was still in their veins when the sole officer waved them to get out of the intersection. He put the car in reverse to get back in the right lane. Then, they tuckered into the small town. Having to avoid the freeway, it was going to be small fishing villages along the New England coast all the way. He would have loved to turn around, but he was stuck finishing the ride. Where could he drop her off earlier?

She could feel the tension. His face was too tense. He was searching for something. What else could he be searching for then how to get rid of her. He didn't have to say anything. They got to the center of the town. There wasn't a soul in the street. Every single window, every single store sign, and every single parked car was black. Everybody was gone, holed up in their homes. That made the streets feel extra cold. Anna shuddered at the thought of being left on the sidewalk there. To lighten the mood, she plugged her iPhone cable into the car stereo and played Beth covering songs.

"No, no, no music!" complained Nirvaan.

"Oh, we gotta cheer up this sad road trip. What's your favorite music?" asked Anna. "I'll be your personal DJ."

"I don't listen to music," said Nirvaan uptight.

"I'll introduce you to some good stuff," trumped Anna.

"Girls," growled Nirvaan under his breath.

"Boys," mocked Anna, her mood picking up with the music.

He let the music slide. She was putting up too much resistance. He should focus on how he could get rid of her. This situation was getting ridiculous. No sane person would keep going under these conditions. He had to keep his eyes open for a motel. She was too much trouble. And she started silently singing as well, which grew into full-out bellowing. She seemed to be having the time of her life.

"Why do you listen to one song after the next about breakups?" asked Nirvaan.

"I don't!" replied Anna.

"Yes, you do. Listen to this song: 'Don't cut me down, throw me out, leave me here to waste. I once was a woman with dignity and grace. Could you find a way to let me down slowly?"' insisted Nirvaan.

Anna looked through her playlist, "Huh? I guess you are right. They are all break-up songs. I must have developed an affinity for that emotion."

"Did you have a recent break-up?" asked Nirvaan.

"Yes, my long-term boyfriend broke up with me a month ago," replied Anna.

"What happened? Was he cheating?" asked Nirvaan with Indian bluntness.

"No, I was too insecure and drove him away," admitted Anna.

"What do you have to be insecure about. You are a very good-looking woman," insisted Nirvaan.

"I'm a fat, ugly pig. Look at that big belly! I have barely any eyelashes. And there is a giant pimple on my chin. All these hot girls were talking to him. Every week, I thought he'd succumb to sleeping with one of them," explained Anna.

Nirvaan looked her over. From the drape of her top, it seemed liked she'd have beautifully firm, big-apple-sized breasts. Her hair was spot on like she had walked out of a hair salon. Her make-up made her look sexy as fuck. Her clothes made her look elegant and intelligent. That white nail color made her fingers look extra sleek.

Anna noticed the ogling side glance that he indulged her in. "Have you ever been with a white woman," she asked point blank.

"No," he replied. "Have you ever been with a brown man?"

"No," she replied. "Have you ever been with a woman?"

"Yeah," he stated. "I've been with a girl at a party. Rithika and I went to a bedroom at a friend's house. We were both very drunk and passed out, but we think we had sex."

She could have stabbed him for that crude comment, but she remembered observing his face earlier. She could tell that a lot of pride hinged on that one pathetic encounter. She didn't want to take him down. It felt cruel to do so. Even though he had said it in a bragging way, he had really shown his soft underbelly. He was inexperienced with women.

He didn't know why he had told her that. He had felt like he had to prove his manhood to her. Something about her outburst and the display of her poor self-esteem had been like she had shown him her soft underbelly. Behind that facade of the cunt bitch was a terrified little girl. In the wavering tone of her voice when she had put herself down, he felt like he had felt deep inside of her. She wasn't simply a fare. He had to get her home. In silence, they were seizing each other up.

"I need to pee," exclaimed Anna.

"I'll keep my eyes open for the next Starbucks, replied Nirvaan routinely.

"Everything has been closed for the last fifteen minutes. There won't be an open store. Let's pull over. I'll pee right behind that car," Anna's face was hot red with shame.

"Ah, okay," said Nirvaan and pulled over to park behind the car.

The sidewalk was entirely empty. There wasn't a single footstep. Thus nobody had come by. Anna would have privacy, but she was still sitting in the car.

"You have to come with me," exclaimed Anna.

"I'll be right here," insisted Nirvaan.

"No, you are going to leave me. I saw your face. You've been scheming the whole time how to get rid of me. This will be a perfect chance to leave me behind. You have to come with me," Anna's voice was bursting. She was so full of shame and embarrassment.

"Okay, okay!" he said and kicked his door open. Was she a mind reader, he wondered. He might have to be careful what he was thinking around her.

She walked in front of him to hide behind the parked car. "Turn around, she ordered," she ordered. He turned around. He could hear her zipper open, the pants slide down, and then the angry hiss of piss shooting into the snow. She was five feet behind him, so close.

"He's a good guy," she thought. He puts up with me. He gives me privacy without trying to sneak a peak or putting up a stink. His pants are kind of baggy, but he might have a good ass hiding underneath there. His whole wardrobe was kind of neglected. If she'd dress him up in some nice Diesel jeans, a leather jacket, and a snuck ribbed T-shirt... oh, he'd definitely look good with some rings, bracelets, and adornments. There is something about his brown skin that would pair well with gold, silver, and green sapphire metal works. Definitely grow out the hair and put some oil into it to turn it into a luscious mane. Oh, the stream is done running.

"Shit! I forgot to get wipes. Can you get me napkins from my purse on the front seat?" Anna asked.

Nirvaan started walking, but Anna stopped him, "Leave me the car keys! I don't trust you!" Nirvaan threw the car keys behind him. She squat walked to get them.

He opened the passenger door and looked for her purse. It was a little read leather thing. It was about the side of a thick book like Lord Of The Rings. He snapped the gold lock open. There was her wallet. He couldn't help but take a glance at what was in there. He extra generously searched while folding the purse wide open to get a look around. He found the two silver condoms quickly. There was a pair of black panties bunched up. Of course, there were condoms, keys, a small pepper spray, and even a pocket rocket vibrator. The toothbrush suggested that she was prepared for one-night stands. A serious-looking street fighter flip knife made her seem like she was a tough thug. The oddest thing was a screwdriver. Sadly, he found a pair of napkins from a takeout restaurant and didn't have the pretense of a reason to snoop around more. Digging around in her intimate spot, getting a feel for what she was on the inside had been deeply titillating to him.

Slowly walking backwards, he waved the napkins behind him. "One step right and two step back," she told him and then took the napkins from her hand. She wiped, stood up, and zipped up. When they were walking back to the car, she was wiping her hands on a snowball in her hand. She was very prim, proper, and clean.

Before they entered the car, Nirvaan lingered at the door, looking across the street. Anna watched him hesitate and asked, "What are you looking at?"

"I have a feeling," Nirvaan said. "There is a Shell gas station. There is an Indian restaurant next to it. I think they have the same owner, and the owner is going to sleep at his business to protect it when something like this happens. It's an Indian thing. Let's see if we can wake him," explained Nirvaan.

Anna felt strange about this, but Nirvaan confidently knocked on the Shell gas station window, walking around, knocking on each window, calling out in an Indian language. He did the same thing with the restaurant. He even boldly went knocking at the backdoor. Anna felt like a guard dog would attack him any moment, but the backdoor opened. There was hushed Indian conversation. "Is he selling me to sex traffickers?" was her first thought. But they kept talking and negotiating. Nirvaan handed a money bill into the barely open door. A plastic bag was handed back.

With a big grin on his face, Nirvaan turned to Anna and walked her back to the car. His gait had as much joy and happiness in it as when she had been singing her songs happily. She was mesmerized by what would be in the bag.

When they were both seated in the car next to each other, he placed the bag in the middle between them. Heightening the suspense, he acted like he was going to start a big formal speech instead of opening the bag. It was a white plastic bag with a red script that said: "Thank you!"

"So good news, bad news! We have excellent food, but we have only one container of dal to share and no utensils. But the chef gave us a big roti bread to spoon out the dal," revealed Nirvaan.

He opened the bag. There was a clear, pint-sized plastic container with dal lentil soup inside. There was a giant foot-long piece of fluffy white flat bread that he ripped into two pieces. He handed her one, waved her to start, and took his first scoop of dal with a torn of piece of bread. He sighed, moaned, and gasped to signal how good it was. Okay, I'm sharing finger food with a stranger. I guess that is happening.

She accepted her half of the bread. She ripped off a piece, folded it into a round scoop, and tasted the dal. An explosion of flavor and spice hit her tongue. Boy, was that good! She realized how hungry she had been only when food touched her lips. The hunger of a wolverine drove her for second, third, and many more scoops. In the fervor of her food lust, she didn't mind touching his fingers when she accidentally had been too impatient to dive for another scoop. When he was about to drop a little dal of his bread scooper, she pushed it back on for him. It was like an all-hands-on-deck situation to get a critical task done. The critical task was to devour that dal as fast and as possible. The intimacy of their fingers and eating was not an issue.

"Fuck was that good!" she burped out, lying back in her seat when the last drop of dal had been scooped out with their bare fingers. All decorum and distance had dissipated in their feeding frenzy.

With much new vigor, they set back onto the abandoned road to carefully thread the speed just right between slipping out of control and getting stuck in the snow drifts. They made it past two more small towns along the coast before the wind picked up so much that it lifted the snow off the ground and threw it in front of their light beam so that all they could see was their own light reflecting back in the snow and nothing else. When Nirvaan stopped the car because he could positively see nothing but the reflection of the light, he thought that the car was sliding sideways, pushed by the storm across the slippery ground. It was spooky. He tried to open the car door to put his foot on the ground to feel if they were indeed moving, but the storm howled in so hard when the door was only an inch ajar that he quickly slammed it closed.

"We have to get off the road so that we don't get run over by a blinded driver," he said with panic the first moment the wind had lowered enough for them to see the outline of parked cars next to them. With awareness of mind, he noted the direction of the storm and parked on the opposite side of the street so that the storm would push them against the curb and not into the middle of the street.

The cabin was bouncing on the shocks because the storm pushed so hard. Shudders ran through the steel. Worry chased their minds to how far the car could tilt on the shocks before the tires on the roadside would lift. Another hard yank on the car and white covered the windshield. Even seeing as far as the light reflecting in the snow from the high beam was hard to see. That as only a dim and vague blip of light obscured hard. Outside their window was mostly black darkness, except for the closest snowflakes that were lit up white by the cabin light. The biggest mind terror was their anticipation of how bad it could get from here.

Anna took his hand, grabbed it hard, and squeezed it. He could feel from the intensity of her grip that she was truly panicked. He was well aware of the situation but had a more action-oriented attitude. His mind was thinking about what could happen, strategizing on what he should be doing in that case, and vigilantly scanned everything for trouble. Was the door seal holding up? Would flying debris hit the windshield? Could the engine air intake get starved of air by the storm? He felt her iron fingers squeezing his right hand. She had put all three hands (one of his and two of hers) between her thighs and was squeezing them together hard. Her thigh squeeze was very powerful.

She could feel the energy of the wind, its vibration in the howling, like an old giant hollering, inhaling, and then squeezing air out of the lungs with all the emotion and pain of having suffered a hundred years and held it all in - excruciating emotions, long suppressed shooting to the surface and being released into the torrent of the storm. And his anger, rage, and fury were stalking outside - wanting to smash everything in sight. She was simply a little girl, an itsy-bitsy little girl, with no power of her - not even brown childhood bear Snuggabear. There was a high-pitched howl in the wind, seemingly coming from the stop sign pole nearby as it cut through the path of the storm, but really it could have been a fallen elf circling the car to let out its cry of torment for the envy of not being allowed to live up in the tree houses among the good elves filled him with painful jealousy. Oh, all the mythical creatures that could be out there, roaming in the protection of the blinding snowstorm. That was their time of coming out to the surface when nobody could see them. In all the swirls of darkness, they could be out there.

A big bang like Thor pounding a table into pieces sounded more like a big shop window bursting. Two seconds later, a hailstorm of little pellets drummed against the car from the right side. Anna jumped up and sat on Nirvaan's lap in front of the steering wheel. She was curled up with her knees to her chest, digging her face against Nirvaan's shoulder in a child-like effort to not see because if she couldn't see the monster, it would not exist.

Nirvaan's first thought was that Anna was physically much smaller than he imagined her. With her body all tight and right against his, he could feel her actual size, her arms, elbows, butt, belly, and all. Psychologically, she had appeared much larger to him. The clothing also did a good job of making her appear larger than she actually was. She was maybe two-thirds of his weight at most. He had never felt a woman with such utter lack of reserve press her body against his and let him feel her. He was silently praying, "Please don't get a boner! She's going to feel that! So in appropriate!"

The mounds of her breasts pressed against his chest as her torso was turned sideways from her knees. The firmness, size, and shape were so unmistakable boobs like a shark can taste blood from miles away. Both are that unmistakable. Her belly was heaving. Like in high fidelity, he could sense all the emotions running through her by the vibrations of her belly. Then there were her lips pressed against the triangle of his collar bone and top of his trapezius. The texture of her lips was moist, smooth, and soft like an air cushion. Then there was her whole body in motion when the car got hit hard by a broadside of the storm, she'd climb and claw with arms and legs more up onto him than was possibly possible. He was at the center of her physical clinginess, rubbing and pressing her body against his. "Dear god, this feels so good! But please stay down boner!" he pleaded silently.

"Safety - I need safety," were her thoughts. She dug herself deeper into his arms. Feeling his body and embrace of safety was good, but most of all, it was his manly scent that reassured her. She dug her nose deeper. Somewhere between the nape of his neck, the onset of his hard, and the headrest seemed to be a cave that she was trying to dive into to hide. She dug with her nose for more of that scent: A little bit Indian spice, a little bit musk of a teenage boy, and a little bit old leather like her daddy. The absence in the scent of everything that was her (rosy, apple blossoms, and sweetness) was what made it reassuring.

She couldn't help but each sound and hard rock of the car made her jump, squeeze, and clench him. The intensity of panic in her had turned into a little ball of out-of-control convulsions. She tried to make herself smaller so that the Thor god, fallen elf, and hollering giant outside wouldn't see her. She was an itsy-bitsy ball in his arms. She noticed her whimpering sound. All the emotion was so overwhelming. It was so hard for her to keep in emotion in general because it always wanted to pour out. And in general, she kept herself in check, but in the eye of the storm, the restraint was gone. Did polar bears migrate down from the arctic during snow storms? Could there be polar bears outside stalking anyone foolish enough to be outside and look like a zeal?

Her lips pressed against his triangle on his shoulder of collarbone and the top of his trapezius was starting to get wet. She pressed so hard that her lips had parted. Her drool started covering his skin. He could smell her intimate up the close smell. From the conversational distance, she had been a cunt bitch, but her smell conjured up a revelry of images of wildflower meadows in the mountains, seductive cast iron bathroom tubs of an elegant Paris, and youthful femininity. All the while, her body was slowly grinding and moving against his. "If I die now, I'll have died a happy man. If only I could relax and take this beauty in instead of worrying about my penis hardening," he thought to himself.

When her spit started running down his back, he asked, "maybe, we can use another of your napkins?"

She leaned back, pushing away the panic-stricken fear to inspect his shoulder. She used the sleeve of her satin blouse to wipe away the spit, then she put her arm down his back inside of his sweater to keep wiping where the spit had run. "Sorry, napkins are all used up," she explained. The shivers were gone from her body. She was cool again.

She went back to her passenger seat coyly and calmly. The shaking of the storm had become more constant and familiar. "I'm sorry about that," she apologized.

In open frustration, Nirvaan let his head drop back and squeezed his eyes together. His emotions had awakened, and he had only realized when she had left him because he suddenly felt like he was out in the cold. He was craving her warmth. He felt like shaking, shivering, and crying to get back to that warm feeling that he had felt a moment ago. It was like he had been emotionally taken back to when he was a baby and needed warm hugs and caresses to live. He shut that off and re-opened his eyes, "Don't worry about it. No problem."

To lighten the moment, she asked him, "Do you have any siblings?"