Valentine's Day in Wild Alaska 1983

***

Her passion — her words slam into my gut like a fist. Of course she's right. We have this, it's just a fragile moment in the vastness of the Universe. But we are the masters of this moment we hold — we are the creators who will dictate the shape and contours of this moment ... and either rejoice or suffer in the yet unknown cascading fallout of our choices. She's made her feelings clear, it's time I do the same. "Carley, your words are true. I do feel the same as you, I just didn't want to be that guy — that asshole who seizes an opportunity to get a pretty woman into bed. I guess, I just wanted you to trust me and respect me. But yes, I too desire the same things you do. I'm just clumsy and shy in expressing it."

The tears of her passion sparkle in the flickering flame of the lamp. A small rivulet of clear snot runs from her nose to her lip to prove her emotion. Her chin quivers in what — fear of rejection or is it passion — or is it anger at me failing her? I step to her and embrace her again. I can feel inside the shift in depth of our connection. As her soft small body melts into mine, I feel my arousal kick in. In hindsight, my good intentions turn out to be hurtful. "The last thing I ever wanted was for you to think I didn't adore you. Forgive my clumsiness," I whisper softly near her ear. In a silent answer, she holds me tighter. Together we slow dance to nothing but the songs in our heads. Slow and close we cling as one while emotions glide down from their soaring heights in the raging turbulence. And soon the hugs, the dance, the silent songs and thoughts heal the turbulent feelings — the fears — the doubts. "If we're to share a bed, I must wash as best I can. If you want, we can share a little warm water." The time stands still. Then almost in a whisper, her voice small, subdued ...

"Okay, that sounds nice."

We break our connection, I bend and kiss her on the forehead. "Where did that empty can get put?"

"I set it on the floor behind the stove. There may be some water in it."

Indeed, there is about half a can and I set it on the top of the oil heater. "I'm just gonna step out the door and get a little more snow." Outside again, I instinctively look up into the sky. The storm clouds have diminished to almost nothing, and the lights — the Aurora Borealis seem to be dancing in celebration. With a cold snowball freezing my hands, I turn to get back inside — I gladly drop it into the can on the stove to melt and mingle with what's there. "That will probably take awhile to warm, the storm's blown out, and the lights are really dancing in the sky. Wanna bundle up one more time and go see?"

"Yeah!"

I observe her as she makes a fast and efficient transition into her outdoor gear. Not being raised around sisters, the female of our species is a curiosity to me. It's interesting to watch them when I can and try to make more sense of it all. In almost no time, she's ready. Gloved hand in gloved hand we walk out a little farther from the shack. After a few moments our eyes adjust and with the snow and the lights above. It's not hard to see our surroundings in stark tones of dark mystery mingled with light reflecting from a billion stars. Looking up, the northern lights stretch across the sky in waving swirls and whirls to a beat and rhythm only the angels hear. Carley snuggles her back up against me and I wrap my arms around her to hold her snug and close — her own hands cover mine to hug them even closer. "Well, now you've seen it at it's best. Pretty amazing, eh?"

"I've seen pictures and read words, but nothing can make it real except being here and seeing it. I don't regret anything that's happened this day. As dumb as I was, I'd do it all again just for this night. It's not just the lights in the sky, it's you too. You're the brightest light I've seen in all of this. Thank you for everything — mostly thank you for hearing me earlier. Sometimes I wish I was a guy. I hate the way we're supposed to be so sweet and innocent — naive and passionless. Where did that come from? But in a way, I'm a hypocrite, and that makes me mad at myself. I like that you're stronger than me — I like to surrender into that. Is that weird, or just crazy?"

"I'd have to give it more thought, but just off the top — no, I think I get it. I think the times are changing, and one of those changes is the way women want to be seen and treated. I don't think you're alone in feeling the way you do. As the song implies; There's a time for every season. So there's a time to be weak and vulnerable and a time to be strong and defiant. You're no hypocrite. You are shivering though, let's go sponge off and get into bed."

***

The cabin, or shack as he calls it, once again feels downright balmy after being outside. I suppose people really do adapt to such extremes in temperature. Flying in from west Texas in the middle of winter probably isn't an approved method of adaptation. Instead of paper napkins, Ethan introduces what he swears is a clean cotton sock. "You promise? If I get some foot fungus on my twat ... well, you better be telling the truth."

He holds up his hand in the boy-scout tradition, "I swear it's clean. And as a gentleman, I'll let you wash first."

He's just standing there looking at me. "Are you gonna watch?"

"That was my plan. Is that a problem? I figured you'd watch me too. It's either that or we take turns with our nose in a corner."

I weigh his answer ... remember the warmth of his hug, his kiss, "Okay, so long as I get to watch you."

He sets one of the old fashioned chairs near the stove for me and then he sits down in another with a smile on his face. Okay, two can play this game. I once again shed my outer insulated coveralls, leaving me fully clothed in sweat pants and a heavy shirt. I glance at him and the smile on his face triggers an idea. "I think we should strip together. It seems more fair." He smiles and stands up.

"Tonight, your wish will be my command."

He bows like a knight, sits back down and unlaces and removes his boots. With his socks still on, he stands and removes the outer layer like I did. Now we are equally covered. He asks, "Who goes first?"

"You do, of course. Take off your shirt." He smiles and with his eyes never leaving mine, he slowly unbuttons and slips it off his shoulders — leaving himself still fully covered by a white long-sleeve undershirt. "Okay Mr. Smarty, that one next."

"No, you said we'd take turns. It's you're turn to take off your shirt."

Damn, in my mind I meant he'd strip completely first. But he's right, a deal's a deal. Knowing that I too have a thermal shirt under the wool shirt, I quickly shed the the outer one. "Okay now take off your other shirt."

The long sleeved top comes off quickly, revealing part of what I've wanted to see for hours. I'm not surprised to see his muscled chest — I've held him close enough to know it was there and only hidden. But seeing the details of his dark hair, sepia skin and large dark nipples fills in the gaps in my imagination. His arms and shoulders are clearly those of a man familiar with heavy labor. The almost shoulder length curly hair, dark the shade of his chest hair, somewhat softens what could have been a rather intimidating physique. His dark trimmed beard matches this land he calls home and suits him well. His eyes never leave me as I tally his assets. When I look up again, the crooked smirk reminds me that he's not intimidated by me in the least.

"I can see the question in your eyes Carley, my brown skin doesn't jive with the name Carter. My mother's maiden name was Pena'. My father said it was just like that old Marty Robbins song about El Paso. He fell in love with his Mexican girl — the music would play and Feleena would whirl. Anyway, that's how I came to be a bit of a contradiction."

The way he looks at me sets me off, the feelings between my legs urge me on. "I guess some would call it a contradiction, I'm kinda envious over the permanent suntan, not to mention the cultural education you were blessed with. And now, what's your command for me?"

"Same thing — lose the top undershirt."

This is where a bra would've given me the edge. I'm too small to mess with it, unless it's just for show. I hate the damn contraption and expectations I should comply. But actually, I'm glad that I have nothing more on than he does. It seems best to just do it and get it over with it, so in one fluid motion I strip the covering away. My nipples are already hard from the cold — just like his. The intensity of his gaze and the slight movement of cool air across my skin redoubles the tightness and sensitivity. I want to touch them — I want him to touch them — so bad it almost hurts. I look at him, he seems satisfied. My size has always been a love hate relationship, but he seems interested. "Well, sorry if they're a bit small."

"They're perfect — they fit you and make you even more beautiful."

"That's really sweet to say that. Some guys make fun of me."

"Let me guess, they were idiots, right?"

"Yeah, they were. Easier to see, in hindsight. Okay, since we don't have all night — the pants please ... and you might as well take the long-johns down with 'em. No need to drag this out until we freeze."

Again his eyes and his smile hold me captive. Even with those brown eyes holding mine, I can see he's doing as I asked. When he bends to get the bunched up cloth over his ankles and feet, I see that he is completely naked. I was expecting some style of underwear, but that would have just taken more time. Once he stands again, I take in his legs — muscled and thick. My gaze though does settle on his cock — crowned in the same dark curly hair that joins that on his chest with a perfect treasure trail. The sheath of his cock is a shade darker than the rest — the half exposed head a shade darker still ... more the shade of his nipples. He's thick and full but not yet hard and erect. I look up to find his smiling eyes on me and feel the hot flush on my neck ... unable to pinpoint precisely why. Perhaps some old taboo about being too forward ... perhaps just my body urging me to be more forward? It's all I can do to hold his gaze and not give away my hunger for all that he's revealed.

"Okay, I think that's it for me. I think you're a bit distracted though. Did you forget you were supposed to take yours off too?"

"Oops, sorry." He's right — I am distracted. It was easier when we weren't ... so naked. Now his attention is all on me, but a deal is a deal ... and I really do want to do it. Now it's his eyes on me ... and I do as I'm expected to do. The only difference is that I just have the sweat pants. They slide off easy and I kick them aside and stand in just a rather utilitarian pair of white cotton underwear. Had I known I'd be the focus of a man's attention, I could have chosen better. I look up to find his eyes once again looking into mine, the small smile on his face soft and gentle. The way he looks at me turns me on as much as being naked together. "Do you want to pull them down, or shall I?" He doesn't answer straight away, just stands and looks at me standing here. It's what I wanted and now it's done — it feels so wonderful but also makes me want to run.

"You do it babe. I want to see the way you do it for me."

His voice, his words ... everything about him leads me on in confidence. But his — what is it? Tenderness? Concern? I can't put the right word on it — it's just an enveloping believability that he's sincere and down to earth. "Okay, your wish is now my command." I don't put on an act, I don't exaggerate — I just slide them down like I do every day and kick them to the side. Again I look at him, his eyes first and then lower to see that he is now erect. Seeing that relieves a pent up tension I hadn't even noticed — he's aroused by me. Unplanned, I abandon our game and walk to him — pause and look up into his eyes again. We just stand here and I swear I feel warmer just being so near. His eyes travel down to take in my body — I kneel before him. I look up, not surprised to find him looking down at me. He gently places his hand on my head, just above and to the back of my left ear. Together we stay almost like a statue for a few heartbeats of time. Just the lightest of pressure from his hand — I put my right hand at the base of his shaft, lean and take him between my lips. I squeeze my thighs to milk out the pleasure radiating outward from the center of my core — my tongue explores the silky smoothness in my mouth. I can't resist — my free hand finds my breasts — my nipples silently scream in gratitude ... his words break through the wall of my own cocoon of pleasure....

"Let me bathe you so we can get into bed."

I surrender his hard fullness from my lips, look up and nod my understanding. He steps to the stove and dips the clean sock and comes back to me.

"Stand up babe, it'll be easier."

I take his offered hand and stand once again closer to the stove. Somehow more naked — but only in my mind.

"Do you take many sponge baths back home in Texas?"

"No, hardly ever. Why?"

"Well, I've had to settle for more than few. It's best to start with your face and work down like descending steps, from the least dirty to the most dirty bits. Do you want to do it, or would you like me to wash you?"

"I want you to wash me."

"Okay, close your eyes."

The warm water, his gentle touch bathes my face and down to my neck — he dips in the water again, then washes my breasts. A rinse and squeeze and then under both arms. No doubt he notices that I go au-naturel, my opinion of him jumps a notch higher when it doesn't phase him. He just calmly dips once more into the warm water. Going to his knees, he uses a hand to tell me I need to spread. A wave of erotic thrill washes through my core as obey him. Softly he washes me all around, but doesn't go inside my folds. It's his hands again, I am gently spun so he can tenderly wash my bum. It feels so strange to have him wash me there, but he is gentle and that makes it strange and nice — with thrills and chills all over, I expose myself completely. There's no unseen secrets left. The cool air caresses my soft warm moist flesh. This is unlike anything I've ever experienced — this surrender to let him take care of me like this. It's impossible to not think of his hard strength — just the thought fills me with bliss. And it's in this moment I know — I want him no matter what. There is so much more to know — more to learn about him. A fleeting thought of loss unsettles me — having tasted all this, the thought of gong back home feels empty and dry. But his words pull me back — back to our shack in this place far far away from any life I've ever known.

"Okay, almost done. Sit in the chair here — a dab more water, and I'll wash milady's feet."

And then that's just what he does. Even between each toe ... and I indulge in the moment and allow dreams of Alaska to float near. The nay sayer that rides with me cries it can never be. I let her babble, but ignore her words. Tonight I've decided to fly free above the raucous fray — up high where the lights of the north turn the sky into flames. I'll test and see if hope is enough to truly set me free. Lost in his touch, floating in his care, his words call out from a distance searching for me.

"I think that's both enough and the best we can do with what we have. Stand by the heater and get toasty warm — I'll make quick work of my bath."

I want to wash him like he washed me — but the stove is warm and the view is too good to abandon. So I do as he he said, get warm and watch. He's a thoughtful bather — he finishes up the clean parts first — much faster than he bathed me. Then he washes the good bits and makes sure that I can see. And I do take note of the details in how a man washes in the wild. It's a good show but more, it brings us one step closer in a life that's so new to me. It's new, but old like this is the way it should be. More open and honest — my thoughts drift sideways to times long ago. This is like that, more honest and open — forced by life to be closer to those near you.

"Okay, now I'm as clean as it gets out here. Come, let's get under the covers. It'll be cold as ice at first, but just move your arms and legs around until it gets warm. You get in first and I'll pile everything on top that might add some warmth."

I do as he says, and when he joins me we both work our legs around under the covers and then snuggle together. And sure enough, the chill slowly fades away to be replaced by the trapped heat of our bodies. I lay on my side and he spoons close to my back. His hard cock settles and lays in my crack — it feels both warm and perfect there and triggers a little shiver. His hand on my tummy creeps up to my breast, he teases my nipple between two strong fingers like a scissor. It's more like I do for myself, not pinching and pulling but softly with the sides of his fingers. Neither too hard or too soft — just a perfect touch right in the middle. I know that he knows what this does to me. It sends chills of pleasure up and down and through me— up to my brain and down again into my feminine center. The radiating rays connect in an explosion of pleasure — but the pleasure falls short, my body knows it gets better. When his hand abandons my breast to travel my skin — over my stomach and downward again. I spread for him, no resistance no fear — he opens me — I quiver to my core, my center. I see his game, I know it well — I've played it many times myself ... in a solitary way. I know the start and I know the end, I spread myself wider — I too have moves in this game. He takes the bait, his finger falls in — into the open shaft of my delicate well. I know my quarry and his weakness' too — he rolls me over, right on cue. I let him think it's he who wins, who spreads my legs to suit his whim. Upon our bed, a little more coaxing — a moan — a groan — he rolls on top — he plunges in.

Our bodies joined in mutual delight, we wrestle together — an ancient dance of the long dark night. He fills me — I encase him, we each get our prize. Our dance starts slow and gentle but so quickly does it rise, fueled by passion and urgent needs that all run wild and out of control. It seems a shame that it is so, a more measured pace would make everything flow in a more subtle show — but that is not how the music goes. Especially like this when it's all so new — we're mostly still strangers. But I think deep down we both always knew that at some point this was destined — perhaps even sent down from the heavens. I want so much to take it all in; his scent so near, his weight pressing in ... all a warm soothing comfort. I want to unravel the threads of fate that brought us to this — naked and spread under him with my belly filled with his burning fire. Oh, there's so much I want to taste in my mind — but his burning flesh inside is stealing away my power, forcing me to focus only there — there where our union is joined — where two into the one we've become. Just as his thrusts are building in power, my body accepts the inevitable in an instinctive surrender. Acceptance of his gift, acceptance of his seed that he will spill in me — an acceptance that washes over me! My body tingles from his intimate interior touch, from my center to my thighs to the soles of my feet — then upward from the source into my tummy, my breasts and nipples consumed by the flame. In those delicate flames my imagination burns — so many unknowns — so many what ifs ... and cautious hopes too vague to know if they really even exist. Will he still be smitten with me tomorrow? Will I still find such perfect perfection in him?

His cock regains control of my scattered fragmented thoughts and I let them go. No matter how hard I try, I'll never know all I want to know of what the future holds. I feel my tense muscles relax ... not in surrender but in acceptance that I'll never know all I want to know. I focus on one thing only — the heated shaft pushing into me. This I understand and with each thrust my body quivers a little more ... and a little more until she acts on her own. I let go of the reins and let her squirm under the treasure of his weight — let her toes curl and grip the sheet — let her wiggle her hips both back and then forth trying to get just a little more — let her hump up to him in unladylike wanton lust! Yes, let the tingling spasms radiate and consume everything in their path — they spread outward and outward like a bomb blast. "Oh, fuck! Yes! Yes! Yes!"