Stranger in the Snow

"Mommy, are we going to open are presents now?" Stevie was going crazy with all those presents there.

She took a deep breath and decided she needed to stop feeling sorry for herself. "Well I don't know, Stevie, I mean…" She went to the tree, picking up the nearest package. There was a tag tied to the bow. She flipped it over, and it said: 'to Lisa, have a very happy Christmas'. Another one: 'to Stevie, have a great Christmas'. All of the others were the same, one or the other, hers or his. All the tags were written in beautiful script. There could be no mistake who they were for.

"Well…" she said, sitting back with pure confusion plastered over her face. "I guess we can open them."

"Yay!" Stevie cried out in pure delight.

And for a while, she sat there with him, watching him opening the beautifully wrapped packages, her heart filled with such intense happiness as his little face lit up each and every time in pure ecstatic joy. She opened some of her own gifts, too, the many items for her kitchen or her bathroom and her bedroom too, jewellery, make-up, clothes and lingerie - all expensive presents that she had always wanted but had never afforded.

By the time the last parcel was uncovered, she was in tears. It was all so incredible, she just couldn't take it all in. And somehow, it was all something to do with that wonderful man who lay in her bed. It had to be.

"Why are you crying, Mommy?" Stevie asked her, not understanding how she could be in tears at such an amazing moment.

"I…I don't know…" she said, rubbing her eyes. "I really don't know."

And he ran up to her to fling his arms around her. A little moment of pure perfection.

*

Stevie was playing in front of the Christmas tree now, his hand pushing a splendid ruby-red fire truck around the soft carpet, but Lisa had realised that her own clothes – what little she wore, anyhow – were soaked through from the snow.

It seemed like the perfect excuse to try on some of her new clothes.

She left her little boy there, in front of the warmth of the fire, and headed back into the bedroom carrying a small pile of her new clothes. Dropping them on an unstable chair that had never been used for sitting on and probably never would, she went to the bed, to check on the stranger.

He was still out – either asleep or unconscious. She thought he was probably only asleep now, for his face had changed, he had lost that empty look and his features were now warmed by a smile. Gently, she brushed his dark hair away from his eyes, finding herself straining to prevent herself from dropping down to kiss his mouth – there was such a strong magnetism drawing her to his lips, yet she knew she couldn't.

He did not wake, so she set about changing her clothes. In the mirror, she saw that the dampness had made her nightshirt virtually transparent, but the moisture in her panties wasn't all from the snow. Her heart was thumping now, as she slipped on the luxurious red and white lace lingerie that formed one of her many Christmas gifts. She drew the stockings up her slender legs, attaching them to the garter belt even though she wasn't going to work that day, and had no boyfriend to impress. Her heartbeat was the sign that she had real hopes for this man. Whoever he was, she felt a small chance that maybe he was part of the Christmas surprise.

Everything fit perfectly – the scanty thongs nicely defining her abdomen, the bra with a perfect cup-size, the silky white blouse and delicate red skirt, all warming her up considerably after her frolics in the snow.

Smoothing down her blouse, she turned and nearly jumped out of her skin. His eyes were open, he was sitting up against the pillows, he was awake.

"Morning," he said.

"Hi," she replied, not really knowing what to do or what to say. Had he been watching her changing? What did he think of her? "How are you feeling?" she asked him.

"Much better, thank you," he said. He had a calm, civilised voice – completely unlike any of the men she regularly came across either in the town or in the club. He had a strange accent, one she'd never heard before, except perhaps on the television. English, she guessed. Quietly articulate and gentlemanly. Definitely the kind of voice a girl could fall in love with.

"I…I put your clothes in the wash," she said, feeling awkward there in front of him. "They were all wet…"

"Thank you," he said again with that dreamy smile. "I'm much obliged."

"Are you hungry?" she asked. "I have some food on the way."

"That would be lovely."

"My name's Lisa, by the way," she said. "I…I found you on my lawn. I…don't know why you were there…"

She was so nervous, like she was trying to ask a guy out for the first time.

He scratched his head, still a little dazed. "You're very kind," he said. "The truth is, I don't really know who I am, or where I am, or why I'm here."

"Oh."

"My name's Jonah, though. I remember that much."

"Jonah. I like that. Well, you're welcome to stay here, Jonah, until you get your memory back."

"Thank you. I don't know what to say – you're very kind." That smile that would melt a thousand female hearts.

"I have to go put the vegetables on to cook now," she said, needing to get out of there to allow the nervous shivers to subside. "Uh…but the bathroom's next door if you need it…I, uh…I can get you a bathrobe…I'm afraid there aren't any other clothes that would really fit you…your clothes won't be dry for a couple of hours or so at least…"

"That would be fine," he said, his voice so calming, so reassuring.

"Great, I'll put one out for you in the bathroom."

The vegetables needed nothing doing to them apart from placing them on the heat – her secret Santa had done all the hard work. They were done in no time at all, and Stevie helped her to set up the table for the most extravagant feast they'd had in ages.

When Jonah appeared, he was wearing a skimpy little pink bathrobe, tied at his waist. He grinned as she looked up at him, for he did look fairly ridiculous.

"I'm afraid it's all I have," she said, hiding a smile behind her hand.

"It's be fine," he said, sitting between Stevie and Lisa.

"Stevie, this is Jonah," Lisa introduced him to her son. "He'll be staying with us for…well.. as long as he needs."

"You're very kind," he said to her, and turned to Stevie. "Hi there sport," he said, and Lisa noticed his beautiful green eyes.

"You like my fire truck?" Stevie thrust his new toy in front of their guest.

"Oh, not at the table, Stevie!" Lisa said, but was too busy readying the meal to really mind.

Jonah took the toy and held it up to the light, as if it were a gem worth a million dollars. He grinned back at Stevie. "It is a fine truck. How fast does it go?"

"You have to push it, silly!" Stevie chuckled with delight.

"Push it? You mean it doesn't go on its own?"

"Of course not, don't you know anything?"

Lisa watched the two of them. Stevie seemed to have warmed to this strange man. He was normally shy with new people, but for some reason he was opening up to Jonah.

"Well I think we should see what it can do."

Lisa laid the turkey down on the table top, smiling at Jonah as he nodded his appreciation for her cooking. But now he took the fire truck, and gently placed it on the floor. Stevie was watching, wondering what this strange man was doing with his truck. Then something weird happened. There was the briefest of blue flashes, the kind of thing that you would miss if you blinked in the wrong place, the kind of thing that made Lisa and Stevie think their eyes were playing funny tricks.

Then suddenly the fire truck was moving across the floor – all by itself. But that wasn't all. There was the sound of an engine coming from it – very realistic, too – and as well as this, the lights were all flashing and the siren wailing. It was incredible. It looked like a real fire truck, not a toy, although it was only a foot long.

Stevie squealed with amazement, and ran over to chase after the little toy fire truck, which duly slowed to a halt for him to catch up.

"How did you do that?" Lisa asked him.

He shrugged his shoulders, "I don't really know. I just thought perhaps it would be better like that…and…well."

"You're a very strange man, Jonah," she said, helping him to some food, "did you have anything to do with all these new things in my house, by any chance?"

He looked at her blankly, though. "I can't say either way," he said, and she could see that he had honestly forgotten how he had come to be there in her home.

The meal was wonderful – almost like being in a family again, so natural was Jonah's place with the two of them. With his lack of knowledge of his own affairs, he found out all about her life with Stevie, about the accident that taken away her childhood sweetheart, about the mounting hospital bills as he had lain in a coma, about his eventual death and the struggle to keep hold of sanity through grief.

And she even opened up to him about what she now did for a living, forced into it after the collapse of her old company. She thought at first that perhaps she shouldn't have told him, that he might now be disgusted by her, think her some kind of a low-down whore.

At the end of the meal, he told her not to worry about clearing up, persuading her to go and sit in front of the fire, that he would take care of everything. Stevie was tired – it often happened when he got over-excited. Lisa went to put him into his little bed for an afternoon nap, and came back out to find that Jonah had cleared everything away already. Like magic.

"How the hell did you do that?" she asked, staggered. Even the plates had been washed and replaced on the shelf.

"Well, I don't know…I just kind of sorted it out…" He was sitting down now, on the couch in front of the fire. "Come and sit down," he said, patting the couch beside him to persuade her over.

Sitting there in nothing more than that tiny pink bathrobe, he looked good enough to eat. She felt a slow-burning fire start up somewhere inside her stomach as she went to sit by him.

"You're a great cook," he said as she leaned back against him. Why did she feel so comfortable with him already? It was like she'd known him for years – and yet there was that uncontrollable excitement in her chest because the experience of being with him was so new.

"I did none of the hard work," she said. "I just put it on the heat at the right time and took it off again."

"You have wonderful timing, then," he said, and he stroked her hair.

She felt so relaxed with him, resting back against him, his warm breath against her neck, his fingers twirling circles in her hair. A chill rippled down her back - the kind of chill you got when someone was paying you close, physical attention, the chill that woke you up to the incredible wonder of affection.

Turning to this man, someone she really did not know, someone who really didn't seem to know himself, it all felt so very right. Whoever he was, wherever he had come from, he was part of the same magic as the rest of it. And unless she was very much mistaken, he was not avoiding her in the slightest - very much the opposite, in fact. Gazing into his beautiful eyes, she returned his smile.

"I don't normally get on this well with a complete stranger," she said quietly.

"I'd say I was the same," he replied, "but I'm afraid I can't remember."

"You really can't remember anything?"

"Not really. I remember my mother's face, I remember my own name. I remember places, but not details."

"You can't even remember if you're married?" she said.

"I don't think I am. I'm sure I'd remember that."

"So what if I told you we're lovers?"

He grinned, "I couldn't say whether you'd be wrong or not."

She kissed him, softly, delicately at first, noticing how sweet his lips were, as though they were coated in sugar. He responded to her, pulling her to him, holding her head gently as the kiss became passionate, the fire igniting between them.

Her whole body throbbed, as though he'd just switched on an electric current to run through her veins. As they kissed, her free hand slipped inside the flimsy bathrobe he wore, spreading over his well-defined torso. His skin felt divine, so very soft, a light dusting of hair in the middle of his chest.

Jonah's fingers popped open the buttons on her blouse, and soon his hands were exploring her body, sweeping over her stomach and up to cup her lace-covered breasts. She couldn't help but let out a moan as his fingers grazed against her sensitive nipples through the delicate material of her bra, while her own fingers found the burning hardness that lay between his legs.

He was certainly a gifted man, in more ways than one, but as her small hand fastened around his cock, he gently pushed her back, so that she lay on her back, and he had the upper hand.

Lying between her legs now, he kissed her lips briefly, then moved downwards to gently massage her chest and slip her bra down so that her full breasts were revealed. He planted kisses on the soft flesh of her pale breasts, sweeping around to coax feelings she'd not experienced for years. His lips reached her stiff buds, flicking them with his dextrous tongue, and the sensations rippled over her neural pathways, stoking the fire between her legs.

She moaned as he sucked her pink nipples, pinching them between thumb and forefinger to add to the sensations while his strong palms held her cleavage, passing on warmth and hinting at the controlled power that lay inside him.

His hands stayed upon her breasts for a while, even as he kissed his way over her flat stomach, he teased her nipples to coax a minor climax from her body, leaving her gasping for air as his lips made circles around her navel.

Pulling up her skirt now, she groaned when he began to kiss closer and closer to her smouldering pussy, his lips drawing over her velvet skin to move slowly from hip to abdomen to thigh, her legs outstretched as far as the couch allowed. Her lacy thongs were soaking by now, and she was fairly certain the aroma of her arousal would be very strong for him. Would that put him off? She so urgently needed him to touch her there now, she was going to explode dangerously, and she needed his mouth to satiate her flames.

But he wasn't put off in the slightest. A few little kisses on her inner thighs and he moved steadily closer and closer to her lace-covered mound, seeming to breath in her scent as though it was fuel to drive him onwards. His nose and lips touched the lace that enveloped her oozing vagina, and the contact made her quietly cry out. He gently caressed her through the thin material, his tongue slipping out to press against her insubstantial underwear to taste her for the first time, and the raw heat of it sent shivers up her spine.

Oh Mary, Mother of God.

He was there, right there, it was like pure Heaven on Earth. He had nudged aside her saturated panties and was now well and truly connected to the core of her sexuality. The sensations were just too strong, she was helpless before him. His tongue slipped inside her while his top lip brushed against her clitoris, so gentle, and yet so firm where she needed it. It was like her whole body was numb save for this raging inferno between her legs, pulsing the most amazing energy through her system.

And when it came, it was devastating. She tried to keep her mouth closed, for the kind of scream she might have let out would certainly have woken her young son. The orgasm exploded through her body, her juices flooding from her burning pussy as she came more powerfully than ever before.

*

She was breathless for a while, as though she was unfit and attempting a marathon. The climax had sapped her strength, leaving her helpless there on the sofa for quite a while as Jonah lay there, his head on her thigh, stroking her gently.

The phone rang.

Always at the most inopportune moments. Why did it have to ring now? She was still on fire, still trembling from the incredible orgasm, how could she possibly talk on the phone now?

But it's irritating high-pitched trill got to her. She managed to pull herself up and stagger over to the telephone. She felt so strange, so drained and yet more alive than she'd ever been.

Jonah picked himself up and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water, pulling his meagre bathrobe tightly around him before heading back to sit by the fire.

"You're kidding me - it's Christmas Day, for God's sake," she was saying into the phone. "That's just not fair!" Whoever it was on the phone was seemingly not giving her any option.

She put the handset down again and looked over to Jonah, real sorrow imprinted on her features.

"That was my boss," she said. "I have to go into work."

"Oh," Jonah said, sipping his water. "That's terrible news."

"I...I can't even get a babysitter..." she sat down on the couch again, putting her head in her hands.

"Well I'm sure I'll be fine with Stevie until you come back," he said.

"You're sure? I mean...you've no reason to stay."

He approached her, sitting beneath her on the carpet. "I've every reason to stay," he said, reaching up to kiss her. "Go to work, and everything will be fine. I'll be waiting for you when you get back."

*

Work was awful all night. Dancing there in her underwear - and less - for all those big hairy men, while her mind was so very firmly on what she had back at home, waiting for her. The atmosphere of the place seemed ten times as seedy as normal for some reason, she didn't really know why.

Her whole body still reverberated with the memory of the afternoon with Jonah, but the confusing thing was that the whole thing made her feel so much more sexy than usual, her mind blocking out the darkness of the club, that burning image of his handsome face and his beautiful eyes so strong in her head.

By the time she'd finished her set, the ending music drawing her back out into reality, there were countless men there begging for a private performance. And though she did end up granting a few their wish for a personal appearance, she kept herself firmly back from any contact with them.

All evening, though, she was desperate to leave. She felt that every second ticking away was a second she wasn't spending with him, a second completely wasted. It got so that her heart was burning with need - not necessarily purely sexual, but a serious need to be with him. For at some point or other, he might regain his memory and decide that maybe he shouldn't be there in the middle of nowhere any more. She felt sure she would lose him, and that was the worst of all.

*

At last, the time came, and she hurried home as though her house were on fire. Driving a little too quickly, she almost lost control on the snowy road, but just about managed to keep her vehicle from straying into the ditch.

Home again, but she still hurried to get indoors, slamming the car door and fumbling the key in the lock, desperate to get the door open. She felt like Cinderella, that perhaps when the clock had struck midnight, everything might have faded, including the man of her dreams.

But the door opened onto the cosy sight of her living room, still with its fine carpet, new curtains, luxurious furniture and bright Christmas tree, all in front of the warm glow of the log fire.

Where was he? Had he gone already?

Her mind raced to every possible pain she might be facing next, but as she pulled off her shoes and draped her coat over a chair, she saw that he lay on the couch, now dressed in his full suit of clothes, which had obviously dried, while Stevie lay next to him, both of them fast asleep. It was such a sweet sight, Stevie so cute, Jonah so handsome: it quite brought a tear to her eye.

But now, Jonah opened his eyes. He caught sight of her and smiled.