Snow Angels

"Do you know what a kibbutz is?"

I grudgingly heard her out. Four years ago she had taken a semester off to join her Israeli cousins on a farm on the occupied West Bank. The semester had turned into a year, and then two years, almost four full semesters. Upon her return, the school board refused to grant reciprocity for her home schooling due to lack of documentation. She and her parents had appealed right up to the state board of education, without success. Minnesota had significantly tighter regulations than did Florida, it seemed. But then a compromise was offered. Agnes would be given credit for one full year; she'd enter 11^th grade in September of 2010, instead of 12^th. Grudgingly, her parents had accepted.

"Then you should have graduated two years ago," I said uncertainly. Dates and times confuse me on good days, of which this certainly wasn't.

She nodded smugly.

"I can't tell you how disappointed I am. I never get to be the older person in a relationship. It's unfair."

"It's more unfair than you realize," she said, a teasing smile on her lips. I eyed her guardedly.

"In Judaism, the husband is always the governing partner. Since we're two girls, and I'm older than you, custom dictates that I be conferred the male role. If we get married, you'll be the bride and I'll be the groom."

"Bullshit!" I cried indignantly. "That's not true!"

Her grin was so big and so shit-eating. "At the altar, I'll be in the tux and you'll be wearing white, beautifully glowing and ravishing. We'll say our vows before the rabbi and I'll step on the ceremonial glass and break it. From that point on, you are mine to do with as I please."

"You are so full of it," I said, laughing.

"On our wedding night, I'll take you over my knee to remind you who is the husband and who is the wife in our marriage. Another old Judaic custom."

I glared at her fiercely. "You just try it girl."

"You'll lower your panties yourself, over my lap, pleading with me not to make it so you can't sit down in the morning. It's the first thing the parent's look for; has the bride been properly disciplined? They always look for and expect, a grimace."

All this talk of brides and grooms and weddings and spankings was making me wet. For an insane moment I saw myself walking down the aisle, shaking with terror and ready to pee my wedding dress. I giggled, and leaned in to kiss her.

"I don't know about the wedding night stuff, but I'd like to loose my virginity to you, Agnes."

I felt her stiffen, her breath stopping momentarily. "Really?" she whispered, her former confidence gone.

"If we were in bed, I'd be all over you. I'd give you a great big hickey right here," I said, unzipping her coat six inches and toughing the side of her neck with my fingertips. On impulse, I leaned in close and attached my mouth to the very spot. I waited for her reaction.

"My mom would kill me," she pleaded.

"I'd bet she'd celebrate," I countered laughing. I felt the tempo of her breathing quicken, grow deeper, her heartbeat accelerate. Consciously or not, her head tiled away, invitingly my mouth. I sucked lightly, letting my teeth touch her skin.

"I want you to do it," she said raggedly. "But I also know that tomorrow everybody in school is going to be talking about Bus 9899 and how Agnes Ahlberg and Ellen Olson were the only two students on it when it crashed. Everyone, your boyfriend included, will know where this came from. They won't think that Mr. Sanford gave it to me."

Fuck, I thought irritably. "Then I'll just have to put it somewhere no one will see it."

Releasing the blankets, I found the tab of her zipper and pulled it halfway down her chest. She gasped, and then gasped again when my fingers sought out the upper two buttons on her blouse and released them. Pushing aside the collar, baring her shoulder, I placed my mouth alongside her bra strap and began to suck, sinking in my teeth and drawing her flesh into my mouth. She moaned, and then moaned louder as my right hand stole inside her parka, freed another button on her shirt and slid inside. Her breast was even smaller than I'd thought; unable to cup it, I simply laid my hand over the hump and enjoyed the warm firmness of her flesh.

Releasing her grip on the blankets, Agnes placed both hands on my waist; the unsecured blankets fell away, exposing our heads. Without releasing her shoulder, I twisted to look momentarily out the door and then returned full attention to her shoulder and breast. My own right breast, found through the thickness of my coat, filled her hand. A moment later, her hand slid beneath the waist of my coat, under my sweater and up to my breast. I protested when the hand didn't stop there but released the front catch on my bra and released me.

"No!" I complained, removing my mouth. In the reflected glare I could make out an oval bruise, darkening nicely. I fought to get my hand under her bra but was an instant too late. She laughed as she claimed first prize.

"Bitch! I was first."

"You were slow," she taunted.

"I was preoccupied." She had my nipple between her fingertips and was rotating it gently back and forth. It hardened for her obediently. I curled my fingers and found her own little nub. It was nice and hard, but surprisingly small. I could tell from sense of feel that her aureole was tiny, the size of a dime, maybe, and delightfully rough. I tweaked her playfully; she tweaked mine. We both said "Ouch" together and laughed. To my chagrin, she reached up her back and popped the catch on her bra. It loosened over my hand and I fondled her nipple with complete freedom.

"If someone were to see us now, I'd be very embarrassed," she said.

"Me too," I agreed. Ignoring the cold, I unzipped her coat and pushed the left side over her shoulder. As she protested weakly, I finished unbuttoning her shirt, and opened it, forcing it over her left shoulder. I raised her bra, exposing her breast to both the cold, and my hungry gaze. The blankets had settled around our waists, leaving us completely exposed to view.

"You're not going to take off my shirt," she said with some alarm.

"You're right. I'm not going to."

Placing my left hand in the middle of her back, and my other hand against her left shoulder, I arched her left side forward. Bending, I placed my lips over her nipple and sucked it into my mouth. She groaned in response and wrapped her arms around my head. Were I a boy, I'd have had a raging hard-on. Instead, I had flutters in my belly and a sopping wetness between my legs. Never had I been so wet. Never had I known such wetness was possible. I was a wetness factory. I hoped desperately that Agnes suffered the same problem.

Releasing her nipple, I kissed it gently on the tip and ran the tip of my tongue around the border of her aureole. It was very dark, the exact size of a dime, and perfectly round. Tiny bumps gave it a moonscape look. Between the cold and my attention, it had shriveled and hardened in a way I knew must ache terribly. My own nipples ached terribly. Leaning back, I observed my handiwork.

"I can't even begin to tell you how aroused I am," I whispered huskily. Forcing her shirt back over her shoulders, I lifted her bra clear of her breasts. There were so small. Why that should excite me was a mystery.

"You're embarrassing me," she said, reddening as I ogled her. "Imagine if Mr. Sanford walked up to the door right now."

I continued admiring her breasts. "I'm sure he wouldn't complain."

"I'm sure he wouldn't," she said, wryly. "The flare just went out."

"Fuck." I looked over my shoulder, back at her breasts, over my shoulder again and then far off into the darkness where an hour before, Mr. Sanford had disappeared. I had two flares left. I needed to light one. Mr. Sanford might even now be trudging the final twenty yards back to the bus, blinded by my inactivity.

Releasing her shirt and bra, I grabbed the blankets and pulled them up around her shoulders. "Get the door?" I asked.

Rising, she grabbed the lever. My teeth were chattering, and the air stealing through the V of my unzipped coat had gooseflesh erupted all across my chest. My nipples were hard as diamonds. I wouldn't doubt they'd cut glass. Reaching inside, I reconnected my bra and zipped my coat all the way up to my chin. Once warm in our little cocoon again, Agnes could free me and do as she pleased. The thought excited me terribly.

Ignited, I held the flare high and waved it back and forth, yelling for Mr. Sanford at the top of my lungs. Agnes joined in, and I felt sure that if Mr. Sanford were somewhere out there stumbling around, we'd surely catch his attention. A futile five minutes later, I pitched the flare into the crater and backed up the steps into the bus. Agnes closed the doors again. We spent another silent minute watching without hope. We both knew the score. He had either frozen to death, gotten hopelessly lost, or was unable to find his way back through the raging storm. Unable to stand it anymore, I guided Agnes toward the bench and we sat down.

"We're alone, aren't we?" she said.

"Until they find us," I answered morosely.

She looked at me with tears in her eyes. Putting my arms around her shoulders, I drew her to me; she laid her head on my shoulder and cried softly.

"I don't want to die, Ellen."

"We're not going to die, Agnes. Once we wrap ourselves up in the blankets, we'll be fine. Remember: it can't get any colder inside the bus than it is outside. When we cocoon ourselves, we might as well be camped around a toasty campfire. Believe me," I said, laughing. "If there were marshmallows here, we could roast them over each others red-hot coals."

She laughed, fractured by a sob.

I rubbed the side of her head. "The first time we're alone, I'm making you do a striptease for me, little girl. Right down to your skin. I'll dress you in this really sexy, slutty schoolgirl outfit first: white blouse, black mini skirt, black thigh-highs, really sexy bra and panties. Do you even own a pair of thigh-highs? A thong? How can you not own a thong?"

Without looking, I arose and undid my belt, lowered my zipper and ran my jeans down to mid-thigh. Although her eyes bugged out, and she blinked disbelievingly, she didn't try to make me stop. I looked down at my beige panties and said: "I mostly wear hip-huggers now. Or boy-shorts. Boy-shorts are so cool." I unzipped my parka and pulled up my sweater, revealing the matching bra I wore underneath. Her eyes grew bigger and her mouth formed a perfect O. I just had to laugh at her. "What are you wearing?"

She shook her head emphatically.

"I showed you mine," I goaded. Slowly, I wiggled back into my jeans and pulled up the zipper. My sweater had remained pushed up over my bra, and I purposely thrust out my chest before pulling it back down and smoothing it over my tummy. My heart was going a million miles an hour. I wanted so badly for Agnes to get up and mimic me. I was ready to beg.

Gulping loudly, still continuing to shake her head back and forth in denial, even as she got awkwardly to her feet, Agnes let the blankets slide off her shoulders to the seat cushions. Then, hesitantly she touched the buttons of her shirt. At some point over the past fifteen minutes, she had also refastened her bra, closed the buttons on her shirt and tucked in her tails. I could see her breathing with difficulty. I could see the thud of her heartbeat in a vein in her neck. I smiled, remembering the tattoo I'd left right beside her bra strap. Her eyes followed mine.

"You better hope no one sees that," she grumbled. "You went a little overboard, didn't you? It looks like a black hole. It's threatening to devour my entire shoulder."

I laughed. "I'd be a lot more worried about the next one I intend to give you. It'll be a lot more visible than that tiny thing...and a whole lot more embarrassing," I added, laughing wickedly

I moved toward her, two very deliberate steps, raising my hands. She retreated, running up against the seat cushion. "Ellen," she warned, her voice cracking into the falsetto range. "Don't you dare!" She squat down to retrieve the blankets and wrapped them around herself protectively. "I'm warning you! Stay away from me!"

Grinning, I slowly drew the two sides of the blankets aside, and stepped into her personal space.

* * *

There were no flares left. The last one had gone into the snow fifteen minutes before. Wrapped in the blanket up to our necks, we awaited the inevitable. Both of us knew, though neither would say, that Mr. Sanford wouldn't be back. At least, not until after the storm. I had my arm around Agnes' waist, she mine. We were very sad. She laid her head on my shoulder.

"We'll be okay, right?"

"Of course, we will," I said. We'd only a minute before emerged from our cocoon. As I'd told Agnes earlier, the bus was no colder than the temperature outside, frigid, but bearable under the blankets. We could stay like this all night, if need be. That was fortunate, because it was looking like we would. Other than my worry about Mr. Sanford's fate, however, I wasn't particularly bothered. I tightened my grip around Agnes' waist.

"I'm kinda glad were on this bus," she said. "Except, for, you know..."

"I know." I turned my head and kissed her hair. Our recent adventure beneath the blankets had left my jaw sore and my tongue aching wonderfully. As kissing sessions went, it had been marathon. Our coats were open, and our bra's undone. If my right hand weren't presently holding the blankets closed, it would be caressing her breasts. I enjoyed what her left hand was doing to mine. It kept me pleasantly distracted.

"Can I ask a question?" she asked.

"Sure," I said happily.

"Tomorrow, when they come for us...?"

I raised my head from hers. "What? What?" I asked again when she refused to answer. Finally, she spoke.

"Don't let it go back to the way it was before."

I craned my head around to look at her face. "What are you talking about?"

"I've seen enough movies and TV shows to know that the cool chick always panics the next day. You'll be embarrassed by me, or terrified people will think you're a freak, or afraid your friends will dump you."

"Agnes—" I started to interrupt.

"Hear me out. I'm afraid you'll fall into a sexual-identity crisis and deny anything ever existed between us. Not just to your friends, but to yourself. And you're not the only one, El. I'm afraid it'll happen to me too. I know everyone thinks I'm a lezzie already—don't lie, you know it's true—but I'm really not. I'm just like you. For the most part, I've always been attracted to boys, but the instant I met you I lost interest in anyone, male or female. There is no one else but you."

I wrapped my arms around her and drew her to me as tightly as possible.

"I, Ellen Olson, do solemnly swear that I am now best friends for life with Agnes Ahlerg and that, short of converting to Judaism, I will do nothing to ostracize her from my life, for as long as she wants me, or that we can stand being around each other. First one to cheat on the other with a boy, though, and the deal is off," I prevaricated.

She laughed, and then kissed me. "I love you," she said.

"I love you too," I reciprocated. The words sounded completely truthful leaving my mouth. I wondered if I meant them. I had no doubt she meant hers.

Our moment of silence was interrupted visually. Outside in the snow, Mr. Sanford's final beacon of hope sputtered, flared and died into darkness. I winced, feeling Agnes wince beside me. I looked forlornly at the spot as the final wisps of smoke were whipped away by the wind. My sense of hopelessness deepened in the absence of light. I shivered convulsively. Agnes clutched me tightly.

"I'm glad I have you," she whispered.

"I'm glad I have you too. I can't think of anyone I'd rather be stranded with on a volcanic island."

"Lost, this isn't," she countered.

"It's not even Lost in Space," I said, laughing bitterly. "Where's a coconut, when you need one?"

Shifting, I let her know it was time to re-cocoon ourselves. Lifting the blankets over our heads, we worked, and then reworked the folds until they were acceptably tight, and then settled inward against each other. I let my right hand steal into her open shirt and claim a prize.

"I wish we could lay down," she said.

"So do I." I sighed wistfully. "Then I could take off your clothes and make mad, passionate love to you."

"I love you," she told me again.

"I love you too."

With no resistance, I slid Agnes' shirt back over her shoulders, pulled it down her arms and dropped it in her lap. She shrugged and removed her bra herself, holding it her hands. I knew without sight that her nipples were achingly hard and longing to be touched. I let her know that I wanted out of my sweater and between the two of us, we got it over my head. To save room, I pushed it out beneath my leg and let it drop to the floor, something I would regret later when I had to put it back on. Agnes pushed the straps of my bra back over my shoulders, slid them down my arms and handed it to me.

"God," she whispered. "Please don't let anyone find this bus."

I wondered if there was a way to turn off the emergency lights, felt guilty for even thinking something so selfish. "I really meant what I said earlier. About us laying down?"

She moaned as I placed my hands over her breasts. She took mine in her hands, fondling them lovingly, torturing my nipples as we kissed. I determined that we would, in fact, lay down. Two blankets went below us on the seat to insulate from the cold of the stiff vinyl; the other two covered us, though it took constant vigilance to keep from freezing to death. Our feet were unprotected, and there was no ignoring the cold air assaulting our calves, feet and toes, turning them into Popsicles. At some point Agnes suggested we remove our shoes and warm our feet against each other before they fell off from frostbite. This was not as easily accomplished as you might imagine; not with jeans down around our ankles.

"I'm not getting completely naked," I objected, even as I struggled to lever the heel of my shoe off my right foot.

Grunting, Agnes tried to unlace her boots. The idea of being completely naked with her between the blankets had me extraordinarily horny. I was a balloon, at the bursting point, ready to explode at the slightest increase of pressure, no matter from inside or from out. My heart thudded and blood pounded in my ears. I was breathless from so much kissing. My tongue and jaw muscles ached. I had located and played with her clitoris, and she with mine. It was our first time ever. I had tasted her. She had haltingly taste me. We had tasted ourselves, together. I liked her taste better than mine. I wanted to taste her from the source, but so far, that hadn't been possible.

"Wait!" I said, huffing.

"What's wrong?"

"I got a cramp. I think I got a cramp." I waited a long second, hoping the muscle spasm would go away; it didn't. "Shit," I said when it only grew worse. I never imagined being naked with someone could be so much trouble.

Agnes said. "Fold your legs up between us."

Doing as instructed, I turned completely on my side with my back against the seat, drew my knees up to my chest and let Agnes attack my calf with her fingertips.

"The other one, Agnes!"

She switched calves and attacked the bunched up muscles with painful intensity. I grit my teeth and sucked in air. "Don't stop!" I gasped. "That's helping!" Little by little, her strong fingers pushed the pain and tightness out of muscles until finally, with a grumbling acceptance, the cramp let go. I breathed out in grateful relief—and then gasped.

"Agnes!"

She had just run her fingertips into my butt crack and located my clenched asshole. "What are you doing?" Every muscle in my body locked.