Snow Bound

by Julia P. Lynde

"Lady," the voice said insistently. "Don't move. You'll be okay, don't move."

Snow was coming in through the open car door, the ding, ding, ding ringing insistently, while a pair of soft hands pressed against my forehead for a moment. A face appeared in my field of vision.

I flashed back for a moment. I'd been foolish to set out for the cabin in the face of the blizzard, but I had thought I could get there before the worst of it hit. I really needed a weekend away, and my cabin on a remote lake in northern Minnesota would provide a needed respite. But the snow had come down sooner and harder than expected. The deer hadn't been part of my plans, either.

I'd missed the deer but gone off the road.

"Lady," said the voice. "My name is Sarah. What is yours?"

"Allison," I said. "Allison Crawford." I looked over to her. "There was a deer."

"I saw it," she said. "Allison, are you hurt? Can you feel your toes?"

"I'm fine," I told her. I wriggled my feet and my toes. "Can you help me back onto the road?"

"No way," she said. "Your car is buried in the snow. It's going to take a tow truck to get you out."

I looked out the car door, turning back the way I had come. The woman was standing in two feet of snow, and I couldn't see the highway behind me.

"I tried calling 9-1-1," Sarah said. "No signal."

I looked at her, still partly in a daze. She was mid-twenties with wild, flaming red hair. She was dressed in jeans and blouse with a white sweater over it. No jacket, hat or gloves.

"You are going to freeze," I told her.

"Let us worry about you," she replied. "My car is up on the highway. Do you think you can make it? It's not far."

I looked out the car door again. I'd have to climb the embankment. I turned to her and nodded.

"You can't see your car from the highway," she said. "When the plow comes through, it's going to be buried until spring. We should hang something in one of the trees to mark the spot."

"I don't have anything," I said.

She looked at me for a moment, considering, then nodded. I watched as she reached underneath her blouse and unsnapped her bra. She wriggled around for a minute then withdrew a bright red bra out the sleeve of her blouse and sweater. She grinned at me.

She stepped to one of the saplings in front of my car. She pulled one over carefully and wrapper her bra around the tip several times, then let it go. "There," she said when she got back to the car door. "That should attract some attention."

I smiled, agreeing with her.

"Allison," she said. "I'm getting cold. Are you okay now?"

I nodded and looked around my car. My purse had flown onto the floor on the passenger side. The car was nose down, and I was held in place by a secure seatbelt. I looked at Allison. "My chest hurts," I said.

"A lot?" she asked? "Or just bruising from the shoulder strap?"

"Bruising," I said. I fumbled for the release.

"Allison," she said, putting her hand over mine. "You're going to want to brace yourself. Feet on the floor, hands on the steering wheel. I'll release the buckle for you."

I did what she said. She reached down and unsnapped the buckle. It was a little difficult for her, but she released me. I would have fallen against the steering wheel if I hadn't been braced.

"Okay," she said. "Let's get you out of there."

"My purse," I said.

"I'll get it," she said. Slowly she helped me climb out of the car. Once she was sure I was steady, she crawled into the car and retrieved my purse, then turned the car off, killing the headlights. It suddenly grew quiet. She crawled from the car and closed the door.

It was slippery climbing up the embankment, and the snow was deep. She helped me up, and soon we were standing next to each other on the highway. I looked around.

The deer was long gone. I could see where I'd skidded off the highway and down the embankment, but the snow was rapidly covering the signs. Standing on the shoulder of the highway, I could see my car, but from the highway itself, you couldn't see it. Sarah's bright red bra was the only marker.

"Come on," she said. She pulled me across the highway to a waiting car, a beat up small SUV. She had left her car running with the flashers going. Sarah walked me to the passenger door, helped me into her car, handed me my purse, and buckled me in. She closed my door, then opened a back door and retrieved a car brush for cleaning snow and ice from the windows. She thoroughly cleaned the remnants from the windows and headlights of her car, then climbed in the driver side, tossing the brush into the back.

She turned to look at me. I stared at her. She was beautiful in a wild, unkempt way.

"Do I need to take you to a hospital?" she said. "I don't know where there is one."

"No," I told her. "I'm fine. I wasn't going that fast." I started to cry. "I'm not hurt, but I could have died. You saved my life."

She leaned over and hugged me. She was wet, but I didn't care. I cried onto her shoulder. "Hush," she said soothingly. "Shhh. No one was hurt, not even the stupid deer."

"No one drives this road," I said eventually. "Not in the winter. What were you doing out here?"

"Looking for a campgrounds," she replied. "There's a lake out here with a campgrounds."

"It's closed for the winter," I told her. "You were going to camp there? In this weather?"

She shrugged. "Home away from home," she replied with a smile. "Where should I take you?"

"My cabin?" I said. "It's just past the campgrounds." I paused. "With the snow, we might not be able to drive all the way."

She smiled. "This thing may not look like much, but she's got spirit, good tires, and four-wheel-drive!"

We turned around. She had missed the turnoff to the lake. She drove carefully but seemed calm and happy. I gave directions and we were soon on the road down to the lake. The snow was deep.

"Allison," she said. "I think your car would have gotten stuck." We were sliding around, but she was keeping her speed up. "I'm afraid to slow down or we'll get stuck, too."

"I think you're right," I told her. "Campsite coming up on the left," I told her. "My place is another half mile."

We drove past the Knotty Hills Campgrounds. I couldn't believe she'd intended to camp overnight. Maybe she would have slept in her car. I didn't want to distract her by asking.

After another couple of minutes I said, "It's coming up on the left. You're going to need to go slow."

She slowed down. "Next left," I said. She slowed down further and started to turn into the driveway to my cabin but stopped.

"I'm going to take a look," she said, climbing out. She walked to the entrance of my drive. The drive to my cabin from this point was downhill. It was steep right next to the road but flattened out eventually. You couldn't see the cabin from the road.

She climbed back into the car.

"How far is the cabin?"

"Quarter mile," I told her. "It's a big lot."

She looked at me. "If I drive down this road, I don't think I can get out. Will you be upset if I set up my tent in your yard until morning? I guess I'll have to shovel us out."

"You will do no such thing!" I told her. "You saved my life and I have a big cabin with plenty of guest beds. And I have a service that plows, but I don't know how soon they'll be out." I looked at her. "Your clothes are wet and you're starting to shiver. I'll build a fire and draw a bath for you."

Then I swore. "Damnit, I left my groceries in the trunk of the car."

She smiled. "I have groceries. A bath and a warm bed sounds lovely. I haven't slept in a real bed for a while."

I didn't ask her about that. "You may stay as long as you like," I told her. "I just came for the weekend, but I may stay a few extra days."

"All right, Allison," she said, putting the car in gear.

She drove slowly the rest of the way. We got stuck once, but both times she just backed the SUV up and gave a little run through the snow drift. I was impressed. We pulled up to the cabin. As soon as it came into view, she stopped the car and stared.

She turned to me. "We don't have a lot in common," she said. "Everything I own is in this car." She paused. "I'll sleep in my tent. I think I can make it back to the campgrounds."

"You will not!" I told her.

"Allison, you don't know me." She turned away and stared at the cabin again.

"Sarah, are you a killer?"

"What? No, of course not," she said.

"Thief? Are you going to steal me blind while I'm sleeping?"

She turned to me. "No."

"Rape me?"

She smiled and leered. "Only if you ask me to."

I stared at her and blushed, looking away.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I can't help being shocking sometimes. I told you, you don't know me."

"Can I trust you?" I asked her.

"Yes," she said. "But you don't know that. The camp grounds are fine."

"Sarah," I said. "Please pull up in front of the garage. I'll get out and open the door. You can park inside."

She stared at me for a moment then nodded and put the car back into gear. She pulled forward and stopped facing the garage. I grabbed my purse and got out to open the garage door. She got out with her snow brush and brushed the snow from her car, then climbed back in and pulled forward into the garage.

I followed her into the garage, turned on the overhead light, and hit the door to close the garage door. Sarah climbed out and turned to me. "Allison," she said. "I'll be fine-"

"Are we still having that discussion again? I thought that was settled. Do you have a change of clothes?  If not, I can loan you something while we wash and dry your wet things."

She looked away. I watched her, again overcome by how beautiful she was. Did she know the effect she had on people? I couldn't believe she didn't, but she seemed oblivious to the way I was staring at her. Finally she looked back at me. "I'm not used to asking anyone for anything," she said.

"You're not asking, I'm offering," I replied. "Please, grab your things. Do you need help? Come inside. I'll make a fire."

"You have a laundry? May I use it?" Her voice was small.

I stepped past her and walked to the back of her SUV. I fumbled with it but eventually got the door open. I found a well-used backpack, the type that hikers use, and a lonely sack of groceries. That was it. She wasn't looking at me. I walked back to her and she was blushing.

"I should leave," she said. There wasn't much conviction in her voice.

"Are you playing games with me?" I asked her. "That's really everything you own? An old SUV and a backpack?"

"My laptop and photo gear are on the back seat." She turned to me. "I don't need a handout. I'm doing fine."

"I'm not judging, Sarah," I said. I turned my back on her and returned to the back of her SUV. I pulled her backpack to the edge of the hatch and slipped the straps over my shoulder. It was heavy, but I could carry it as far as the laundry. I stepped away from the SUV, slammed the doors closed, and walked into the cabin.

Sarah collected the things from her back seat and followed after me.

* * *

"May I use your laundry?" she said again. "I've been washing in the snow."

I didn't say anything. I had no idea what her story was, but she wasn't leaving until I got it out of her.

I understood her reaction. The cabin was ostentatious. It was a business expense. I hosted retreats here for my clients. I could put up myself plus five more couples comfortably, for which they paid me an enormous amount of money.

The entrance from the garage entered into the kitchen via a laundry room. I didn't have to carry the backpack far, but once I got there, I realized I'd drop it if I tried to set it down. I turned to her. "Laundry is right here," I said. "But I think I need help with the backpack."

She smiled. I turned around, and she helped me ease it to the ground. I stepped past her, turned off the garage light, and closed the door. I turned to her. "Let me show you around, then we can get you out of your wet clothes. I'll loan you a robe. Bath first, then laundry?"

"Hot bath?" she asked.

"With bubbles," I told her.

She peeled off her sweater and dropped it on the washer, then knelt down and pulled off her boots. She left them neatly by the door and stood up.

I turned around and led the way into the cabin. The first room was the kitchen. I made gourmet meals in this kitchen for my guests, and it was well suited for it. Sarah stopped and stared.

"This is your cabin?" she asked.

I nodded. "I use it for business," I told her. "I bring clients here. I know this makes me look rich, but my house in town is small. This is a business expense." I paused. "Think of it like a bed and breakfast."

"That's what this is?" she asked. "A hotel?"

"No," I said. "I'm a relationship counselor. I run weekend and sometimes week-long retreats here. Sometimes couples forget to slow down and enjoy each other's company. I bring them here. I make them go fishing or sit by a fire. I make them make s'mores for each other. I make them pamper each other. I remind them why they fell in love in the first place." I paused. "The bedrooms are all sound proofed."

She laughed.

I showed her the rest of the cabin. The dining area and living room were both in the front of the cabin facing the lake. We stared out the window together for a minute. After that, I showed her all the bedrooms. "This one is mine," I told her. "Private bath." Then I took her to my favorite guest room. "You may use any of the guest rooms, but this one is my favorite. It has a great view of the lake and a comfortable bed."

"Thanks," she said. "It's beautiful."

"I suppose if you camp out a lot, the view is nothing special."

She turned and smiled at me. "The view is lovely and comes with more headroom than I'm used to."

I smiled back. "Come on," I told her. "I'll show you the bathroom."

The cabin had three bathrooms. Mine, a full bathroom for the guests, and a powder room off the living room. The guest bathroom had a whirlpool tub big enough for two. I led her to it.

"Do you have to turn the water on or anything?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "I turned the furnace on remotely before I left town, and there will be hot water, I just have to open the pipes. I'll be right back."

The cabin had a small basement. It served as a well room, utility room and pantry. When I'd first had the place built, I'd made the people who built it for me label everything I would ever need to know. I checked the pilot on the hot water heater; it was fine. I closed the drain value that is used to drain the pipes then opened the water value that would allow water to flow upstairs. I could hear it flowing right away with the arrhythmic pounding it does when first opened.

I ran upstairs and closed the faucets that I'd let open last time I was here. Sarah was back at the living room windows, staring out at the falling snow. I stepped into the bathroom and began drawing water for her. I rinsed the tub first then let it start to fill. I added bubble bath for her, set out fresh towels and a soft guest bathrobe.

"Sarah?" I called to her. "Please can we get you out of those wet clothes?"

She appeared in the bathroom door. I pointed out everything to her and said, "I'll find something in the freezer to defrost, then come check on you."

"I have a fresh chicken and some vegetables in the back of the car," she said. "If you would rather we do something with that."

"I'll take out food for tomorrow and we can have your chicken tonight."

* * *

While I was handling all of that, I also checked the phone. I still had service. I checked my list of numbers and called the garage in town. It was the same garage that did snow plowing service. I explained where my car was.

"We can look for it tomorrow," the man said, "if the snow lets up and the plows go through. We'll have to plow everyone first, so depending on the snow, I don't know if I can get to it until Sunday."

I explained how he'd find it. He laughed. "That was a good idea," he said. "My wife will love hearing how I was out looking for some woman's bra hanging from a tree." He promised he would call tomorrow. If they found the car, he'd deliver it to me.

I didn't like being without my car, but there wasn't anything to be done about it.

I popped back to the bathroom and checked on Sarah.

"I'm in the tub," she said. "You can come in."

I opened the door and she was well under the water. Her expression was of pure enjoyment. She had the water jets going and suds up to her chin. She turned to look at me. "You're going to spoil me," she said.

I smiled. "That's the whole idea." I collected her wet clothes. "I'll take these to the laundry and be back to wash your hair."

I didn't wait for her to demur but scampered out of the room with her clothes. Sometimes people will turn down an offer of pampering because they're not used to receiving one, but if you give them a chance to think about it, they sometimes accept. If she were going to turn down the pampering, at least she'd have time to think about it first.

When I got back, her eyes were closed. She looked radiant. I didn't ask permission. I collected a bottle of shampoo and a large ladle I used for this. I pulled up a short stool next to the tub and began ladling water over her hair, being careful not to pour any into her face. She opened her eyes and looked at me. "I don't need to be babied," she said. "You were the one in the accident."

"And you are my hero, coming to my rescue," I told her. "Please, pampering you for a while will help settle my nerves."

"You're a shrink all right," she said, laughing. "Making it sound like I'm doing you a favor." But she closed her eyes again.

I washed her hair and talked about bathing rituals. Many societies on earth had them. I focused on her hair, but her pert breasts snuck their way out of the cover of the suds from time to time, distracting me badly. I tried very hard not to stare at them.

She opened her eyes and caught me staring. She looked at me for a moment, knowing exactly what I'd been looking at.

I tried to stammer an apology.

"I don't mind," she said. "You're cute. But I'm not your type."

Then just like that, she closed her eyes again.

"What do you mean, you're not my type. How do you know what my type is?"

She sighed. "You think I'm some lost waif who needs rescuing. Perhaps the scared deer in your headlights from an hour ago. Someone you can rescue and who will be so grateful she will enjoy letting you be in control all the time. I'm not that person."

"You barely know me," I told her. "I'm sorry I stared."

"No you're not," she said. "Neither am I. But we would clash. You like to be in control." She opened her eyes and looked at me. "Am I wrong?"

Maybe she didn't know me very well, yet she had me pegged. But she thought I was cute? I hadn't been called cute in a while.

I took my time with her hair. She seemed to enjoy it.

"May I pry?" I asked her after a bit.

She smiled. "Isn't that what shrinks do?"

"What do you do?" I asked her.

"I breathe," she said.

I laughed. "While accurate, that has to have been the least informative answer I've ever heard."

"Only because you didn't think about it," she replied. She opened an eye and looked at me. "Do your clients pay you a lot to come here?"

"Yes."

"Why? Why here instead of someplace easier to get to."

"They like the solitude, the escape from distractions." I paused. "I have an internet connection here, but I don't tell them that. No computers, no cell phones. I confiscate any electronic devices anyone brings. They come for the solitude, the silence, the clean, fresh air."

"The clean fresh air," she repeated. "They come here to breathe."

"I guess they do," I said.

"And they pay you a lot of money to do so." She glanced at me again. "I don't pay anyone for that, and I don't wait until my life is in crisis to breathe." She paused. "I don't need rescuing."

"I didn't say you did," I told her.

"You wanted to know what I do for a living, not what I do," she said. "As if what I do for money defines who I am." She paused. "Are you a shrink first or a woman first? A woman first or a human being first?"

I didn't have an answer right away.

"To answer the question you really asked," she said. "I'm a photographer and graphics artist. I do book covers."

"Really?" I asked. "Any books I would know?"

She opened both eyes and grinned at me. "I don't know. Do you read a lot of porn?"

I stared at her. "Are you trying to shock me again?"

"Sorry." She turned away. "You're being kind. Bad habit of mine."

"Really," I asked her after a moment. "What do you really do?"

"I really do book covers. I get fifty dollars each. I do one or two a week." She looked back at me. "I do all my own photography. I am my own model most of the time. You saw the size of my walk in closet." She laughed. "Most of my covers don't involve a lot of clothing." She eyed my appreciatively. "I could use a new model, if you want to make a few bucks."

I grinned. "Tempting."

She settled back into the tub. "Thank you," she told me.

"For what?"

"The soak."

"You're welcome."

I asked her a few questions, which she answered, but as soon as I asked about her past, she clammed up. We sat quietly for a minute, then she said, "May I ask another favor?"

"Of course."

"I don't have any bathtub photos." She paused. "I suppose you wouldn't want your tub appearing on a book cover though."

"You want me to take your picture?"

"You don't have to. You know how I'll use them."

"I'll get your camera bag."

I came back with it. She opened her eyes and looked at me. "Please don't get too close to the tub with it. That bag represents a greater investment than everything else I own combined."

I nodded and set the bag down in the doorway. I opened it. There was a large camera and several lenses. I took the camera out.

She frowned. "That lens isn't going to work. Do you know how to change them? I don't want to touch anything with wet hands."

I didn't know a thing about her camera, but she was able to walk me through it. I switched lenses and carefully put the other one back in the bag. She told me how to turn the camera on. I took a couple of photos, then approached and showed them to her.

"You're really okay with this?" she asked me. I nodded. "Okay. It's digital. Please just keep clicking."

I started taking photos of her, moving around as I did so. She moved around, too, from lying back in the water looking blissful -- I took a dozen different angles of that -- to turning and staring at me, her chin propped on the tub. She did different things with her wet hair, almost absentmindedly for some of it. Then she turned and faced directly into the camera, and her expression changed.

I felt my heat rising. I wanted this woman. I wanted to set her camera aside and take her right there in the tub.

My breath caught, just staring at her through the lens. She smiled, and somehow I knew she recognized the effect she had on me.

Finally she stood up and I stopped taking pictures. "Don't stop," she said.

"Seriously?"

She nodded, so I kept taking photos as she collected a towel and dried herself, then climbed out of the tub.

"Thank you," she said finally. "We can go through them later and I'll delete any that would too readily identify your bathroom."

"That's not necessary," I told her, putting her camera away.

"Yes it is," she said.

* * *

She didn't bother with the bathrobe I gave her. I offered her spare clothes of mine, and she followed me to my bedroom, her hair wrapped in a towel, but otherwise without a stitch covering her. It was everything I could do to keep from jumping her.

We were of a similar size. My clothes were a little big on her, but that just made it sexier. I watched as she selected lacy, black undies, jeans that would have been tight on me, and a white blouse She added warm socks. No bra. I bounce around too much without a bra, but she seemed perfectly comfortable.

She ignored me as she dressed. I had offered her privacy but she smiled at me and said I was free to watch.

I should have turned her down. The images of her slowly dressing in my clothes embedded themselves in my brain.

She finished dressing and turned to me.

"Did you want me to do your laundry?" I asked her.

"I can do it." She paused. "I haven't eaten today."

It had been dark for two hours.

I stared at her. "I thought you weren't a lost waif needing rescue."

She turned away. "I was out of cash. My recent clients have been slow to pay. Checks finally cleared this morning, so I was able to go to the store. I was going to eat once I got camp set up. It's no biggie, but I'd really like if one of us cooked that chicken."

"I'll start it," I told her. "While you're starting your laundry."

I disappeared into the kitchen while she headed to the laundry. I went through her supplies to see what she had then dug through my pantry. I assembled a menu in my head. She returned to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of carrots from her grocery bag. She pulled several carrots out of the bag and washed them, then began eating one of them.

"Do you want help?" she asked. "Or would you rather see the photos you took?"

"I'll cook," I told her. "I'd love to see the photos. I'd like to see your book covers, too."

She smiled. "I thought you didn't like it when I shocked you."

"Not much shocks me."

I watched her while she walked away, munching her carrot. She went to her bedroom then returned with her camera and computer bags. She set up on the island in the kitchen, the opposite end from where I was preparing dinner for us. She pulled her laptop out and asked if she could plug it in.

"There's a row of plugs on your side of the island," I told her.

"I know. I didn't want to presume." She plugged her laptop in and powered it up, then pulled her camera out and downloaded the images to it. When she was done, she walked over to me and showed me the camera. "See?" I she said, pointing. "No images. I deleted them when I downloaded them."

I looked at her, puzzled. "Why are you showing me that?"

"So when I delete the ones on the computer, you'll know I didn't hide some here."

I looked at her. "For someone who breathes, you are paranoid."

"Is that your expert opinion?" she asked.

"That's my way of saying I trust you," I replied.

She turned away. "My mom used to psychoanalyze me. I won't respond well if you start."

"Your mom was a psychologist?"

"She's a psychiatrist. We don't talk much these days."

She put her camera away then turned the computer so I could watch. She pulled it closer and looked through the thumbnails. "Which do you want me to delete?" she asked.

"None," I said after barely looking. "Except the blurry ones or the bad ones."

"These ten are clearly your bathroom," she said, pointing. She selected them and dragged them to the trash, then made a point of cleaning the trash. "And maybe these." Delete. "And these." Delete. "We'll have to look closer at the rest."

"I'm afraid I don't understand the problem," I told her.

"Ms. High Powered Psychologist shouldn't have her bathroom used on the cover of smut books," she said. "Your clients wouldn't be amused."

She went through the rest more carefully, deleting a few more. Then she went back to her end of the island and went through them more carefully. Finally she turned to me. "Thank you. These are nice. You have a good eye."

"I just pointed the camera and pushed the button," she said.

Dinner was sizzling on the stove, and I asked if she'd show me some of her book covers. She nodded, so I walked around the island and stood beside her. She showed me a half dozen covers. They were all very steamy and all featured her in a sultry position. She flipped past one that was different.

"Wait," I said. "What was that?"

"Nothing," she said. "That book didn't sell very well."

"Please, may I see it?"

She sighed and backed up. The cover image was a beautiful scene on a lake with a family of loons swimming in the foreground. The title was, "Breathing," and it was written by Sarah Henson.

"What is it about?" I asked her.

"Silence," she said. "Peace." She paused. "It was stupid."

I turned her to face me. "Do you think it's stupid because you didn't like it yourself, or because people didn't buy it."

She turned away. "I spent months on it," she said. "It sold four copies." She paused. "Is it possible to dry my hair?"

"Hair dryer in your bathroom," I told her. "There's another in your bedroom."

I went back to cooking, but I turned her computer around so I could look at the book cover of the novel she had written. Dinner was sizzling away and smelling wonderful after a few minutes. I glanced up and saw that her computer had gone into screen saver mode. It was cycling through a variety of nature scenes. They were beautiful.

The noise of the hair dryer ended and Sarah reappeared. "I like your screen saver," I told her. "Where did you get it?"

She glanced at it. "It's just the standard screen saver. It cycles through my photos."

I looked at her. "You took those?"

She shrugged. "No biggie."

"They're beautiful!"

She walked over and turned the computer around so I couldn't see it anymore. She didn't look up but said, "You're already wondering why I take smutty pictures of myself when I could make coffee table books or sell nature posters or something. Just don't go there."

"I wasn't," I denied. But of course, I was.

"You rich people," she said. "You think you can put a photograph on the wall, and it's just like being there. But it's not. You're not deluding anyone when you do it, not even yourselves."

She looked up to face me. "If you want beautiful, look out the window. Better yet, step outside. Let the snow caress your skin. Feel the wind in your hair."

"I'd rather look at you," I told her quietly.

"I told you," she said. "I'm not your type." She paused. "And you're not mine."

"I'm sorry," I told her. "I know I'm too old."

She looked at me. "You're not old," she said. "You're cute and you're beautiful, but I'm not someone you can tame, and I wouldn't like it if you tried. If anyone does the taming in a relationship, it's me. I don't think you would like it."

She stared at me, and I watched as she changed, staring at me, not moving. She went from the lost waif to someone else, someone predatory. My heart started pounding in my chest. All she was doing was staring at me, but I felt like the rabbit when facing the fox.

I'm not sure why I said it. "Try me."

She stared at me, perhaps wondering if I were serious. Then she slid off her bar stool and began walking slowly around the island towards me, her eyes never leaving mine. She stepped straight to me and reached out, grabbing my face with her hand, pinching my jaw between her thumb and fingers. "Is that what you want?" she asked in a quiet voice. "Am I what you want?"

"Yes," I said, my voice shaking.

She stared into my eyes. "Kneel."

My heart rate increased as I considered the order. I felt my body responding, and I found myself on my knees in front of her, staring up at her. She lifted my chin then lowered her mouth to mine, her other hand reaching around the back of my head to hold me in place.

At first, the kiss was gentle, but quickly became more insistent. She flicked her tongue against my lips and I opened obediently for her. Her tongue slipped into my mouth and began to tease.

I had never in my life knelt to someone before. The submissive act was not my nature. She had pegged me earlier when she had said I liked to be the one in control.

Her tongue retreated and I felt her change. The kiss changed from fierce and demanding to soft and wanting. Without breaking the kiss, she pulled me back to a standing position, then finally separated from me.

We were both breathing hard and flushed. I stared into her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said, stepping away. "I shouldn't have done that."

I grabbed her.

"No!" she said, pulling away immediately.

"I'm sorry!" I said. "I'm sorry!"

She backed away to the cupboard, staring at me. She was back to being a frightened deer.

I stared at her for a moment. At first I wasn't sure what to do, then I slowly lowered myself to my knees and started at her feet. "Please forgive me."

I watched as she calmed down while staring at me.

"You didn't do anything wrong," she said. "Please get up. Please don't burn dinner over this. It smells so good, and I'm starving."

I watched as she retreated to her side of the island. I climbed back to my feet and immediately stirred the dinner. She was right; it did smell good. I hadn't burnt it yet, but it was a close thing.

"I'm a little broken," she said while I was occupied with the food.

"Everyone is a little broken," I replied. "Just in different ways."

I let her think about that for a while.

"Sarah," I said. "Are you on any medications?"

"You're not my doctor," she said immediately.

"No," I replied. "It was a clumsy way to ask whether it was okay to open a bottle of wine."

"Do you think I'll be more pliable with alcohol in me?" she asked.

"No," I said. "But I may be."

I looked at her and she was smirking. "I don't even take aspirin," she said. "A glass would be nice."

* * *

She was clearly hungry, but she ate in a dainty style. I spent more time watching her than I did eating my own food. She noticed, but didn't seem put off by it.

We didn't talk much over dinner. She meticulously cleaned her plate, then waited patiently for me to finish eating. We cleared the table together and she insisted on washing the dishes while I put the leftovers away.

She asked me questions about my job and how long I had owned the cabin. I asked her where she liked to take photos and where she was from. She talked about the photos but wouldn't answer any questions about her past.

Finally she turned to me and snapped, "Don't you take a hint? Do you think if you keep prying eventually you'll get your own way?"

She stormed out of the kitchen and out to the laundry, cycling her clothes into the dryer. She came back and packed up her computer and camera. "I'll be out of your way as soon as my clothes are dry. Thank you for dinner, a soak in the tub, and clean clothes."

"Sarah, wait," I said.

"You're doing it again," she said. "Trying to order me. Trying to get me to conform to what you want. You're not going to get what you want. Deal with it."

"I want to apologize," I replied. "I'm sorry. I have certain behavior patterns. It's taking me time to realize some of them are inappropriate with you."

I watched her posture soften. "I'm broken," she said again. "I have certain coping mechanisms. None of them are compatible with someone else who needs to be in control all the time."

I walked over to her, watching her. She didn't back away. "I like you," I told her. "I don't understand you well enough to know what you want or whether your behavior earlier is healthy. I don't know whether it's something I should encourage or if I should keep my distance."

Sarah stared into my eyes. "Why would you encourage it?" I asked. "Why would you encourage me to dominate you?"

I liked my lips. "Because you tasted amazing, and because I don't remember when it was the last time someone made my heart beat like you did." I paused. "But I fear that is a coping mechanism, and perhaps not a healthy one."

"It's a pragmatic coping mechanism," she replied, "one that enables me to do this." She reached out and grabbed the back of my head, pulling my lips to hers. She ravaged my lips with hers for a moment, and I had to wrap my arms around her as my knees grew weak. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, and I could taste a tantalizing combination of dinner fused with her unique flavor.

Her other arm went around me, then she was bending me back and slowly lowered me until I was on my knees in front of her, clutching at her.

She broke the kiss and stepped away, panting.

"Back straight!" she ordered. "Head down!"

I immediately complied, helpless to resist her demanding tone. She walked around me, studying me. I felt like I were being studied by a tiger into whose cell I had wandered. My heart was pounding again, and I felt myself growing wet with desire for her.

She stepped up behind me and whispered in my ear. "Is this what you want?"

"Yes," I said.

She pulled my head around and kissed me, her legs pressed against my buttocks, her hands on the back of my neck and my chin. She pushed me away as she broke the kiss.

"You've never done this before," she said, prowling around me again.

"No," I said while staring up into her eyes.

She stopped directly in front of me, facing me. "Head down!" she said. "I told you once."

I immediately lowered my head.

"Who is in control?" she asked me.

"You are."

Her voice softened. "You taste nice, Allison. I haven't taken anyone in a long time." She laughed. "Maybe a long time at twenty-five won't seem as long when I reach thirty-two."

"How about thirty-seven?" I asked her.

She lifted my chin and I stared up into her eyes. "You look damn good for thirty-two. You look amazing for thirty-seven." She bent down and kissed me, softly. When she was done, she pushed my head back down and prowled around me some more.

Finally she said, "You will wait here, just like you are."

She didn't want for me to respond. I couldn't see her from the direction I was facing, but I heard her exit the room towards the bedrooms. She closed a bedroom door. It sounded like mine.

I knelt there, wondering what I was doing, the memory of her kiss telling me exactly what I was doing. I stayed exactly where she'd left me. I didn't understand what I was doing. She was what she said she was: a broken woman. Unless you actually asked for help, I wasn't going to be able to give it to her, and I probably wasn't qualified, all my education to the contrary.

But god! I wanted her. I wanted her to want me.

Had it been that long? I guess it had. Was that all this was? An itch to be scratched? I was perfectly capable of scratching that itch without allowing this go further. But I wanted it to go further, I wanted it to go wherever she took it.

She returned after several minutes. I kept my head bowed and resisted the urge to look at her.

"Did you look around while I was gone?" she asked me.

"No. I've been as still as I could be." I paused. "I'm starting to shake. This is an unfamiliar position for me."

"Don't move," she ordered. "Or I will punish you."

"Yes, Sarah."

She stepped very close behind me. Then she wrapped one of my silk scarves around my eyes and tied it. She adjusted it to her satisfaction. Then she knelt behind me and tied silk around my ankles.

"Scared?" she asked me.

"No." I licked my lips.

"Foolish," she said. "I am going to take you to your room, remove every stitch of clothing, except the scarves, of course, then tie you to your bed. Once I've done that, I can do anything I want."

I thought about it. "Will you hurt me?"

"I don't know," she said. "Not seriously. Nothing worse than a very severe spanking."

She began rubbing my bottom. "Would you like that? Would you like a spanking?"

My voice caught in my throat. "I don't know."

She stood up then hauled me to my feet. My ankles were tied together with a small amount of travel between them. I could take small steps but not big ones.

"If you're going to tell me 'no', now is a good time," she said into my ear.

I didn't respond. She smiled against my ear. "Give me your wrists," she ordered.

I put my hands behind my back, and she tied a scarf around them. I wriggled them when she was done. I didn't think I was going to work them loose.

"If I go too far," she said into my ear. "You will say 'octopus'. Say it now."

"Octopus," I said softly.

"Again," she said. "Like you mean it."

"Octopus. Octopus."

She tugged on my arm and began pulling me along. I struggled to keep up with her demands, taking such small steps. From the sounds, I could tell when we'd moved into the hallway leading to the bedrooms. She shoved me against a wall and attacked my lips again. I parted instantly for her and moaned.

My emotions were running wild. I shouldn't have been letting her do this, but I wanted her so badly. I wanted her to want me so badly. I realized I was about to let her do whatever she wanted to me, and my entire being was crying, "Yes! More!"

She broke the kiss, then pulled me down the hall. We went straight, so I knew she'd pulled me into my bedroom. She pulled me a dozen small steps into the room then ordered, "Kneel". She helped me gently to my knees. "Head down!" she whacked the back of my head with her hand, and I obediently bent my head towards the floor.

She stepped away and walked around me a few times.

She approached and whispered in my ear. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

"What is your word?"

"Octopus."

She caressed my face. I leaned into her hand and she pinched me. "Ouch!"

"If you try to take control," she said. "I will punish you." She paused. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

She caressed my face again. I kept my head steady. She stepped around behind me then leaned over me and began to unbutton my blouse. After each button, she kissed my neck. My breathing became increasingly rapid.

"No one has ever done this to you before," she said.

"No," I agreed.

She finished with my blouse and pulled it over my shoulders. It bunched together at my bound wrists. She reached between my arms and unsnapped my bra, then stepped against me and kissed my neck, her hand reaching down to cup my right breast, her fingers inside the now slack bra. She flicked her fingers against the nipple, and I felt as it engorged under her touch.

"It feels good to surrender to me, doesn't it?" she whispered into my ear.

"Yes," I said.

She reached to the other nipple and pinched it gently. It was everything I could do to hold still, to not arch my back, pressing my breast into her hand. Still, I squirmed. She didn't punish me for squirming.

My mind was rapidly shutting down under the onslaught of new experiences and her liquid breath against my neck.

"I am going to untie your hands," she said. "You will remain submissive."

"Yes, Sarah," I told her.

She stepped away then I felt her hands at my wrists. She unwrapped the scarf and released my wrists. She pulled the blouse from my arms. I couldn't tell what she did with it. Then she peeled the bra straps from my shoulders and pulled it down my arms.

I felt the cool air caress my skin. Then her fingers ran up and down my arms, giving me an instant case of the shivers.

"Good girl," she whispered.

She slid her hands down my arms again and clasped my wrists. She raised my hands to the back of my neck. "Entwine your fingers," she said. "You will leave your hands like this."

She stepped away.

"Something delicious about this," she said, walking around me. "With your hands like that, and your ankles like that, you can't follow a simple order. Stand up."

"What?"

She walked up to me and pinched a nipple cruelly. "Stand up!"

I struggled to get one of my feet underneath me. She stood close to me. "Stand up!" she said a third time, pinching the other nipple.

"I'm trying," I told her. I struggled for another moment. "Sarah, will you please help me?"

"Of course, Allison," she said kindly. "You may put your hands on my hips."

With her help, I struggled to my feet. As soon as I was there, she replaced my hands on the back of my neck, and I laced my fingers.

She pulled me into a kiss, pulling me off balance. Again her tongue invaded. I moaned. When she was done, she steadied me as I found my balance.

My heart was pounding in my chest. She set a hand against my, and I knew she could feel my heart. "You are beating for me," she said. "Is this fear?"

"No," I said.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

"What is your word?"

"Octopus."

She stepped closer, one hand cupping my breast, and whispered into my ear. "Don't forget it. You'll use it before I'm done with you."

Then her hands moved down my skin. I squirmed. Her hands came together at my waist. I felt her fumble with my slacks, then she slid them down my hips.

"Lovely," she said. She ran her fingers along the insides of my panties for a moment, from the sides to the front, then they reversed and ran to my back. Her fingers slid into my panties and cupped my bottom.

"Sarah?" I asked.

"Yes, Allison?"

"Is this what you want?"

"Oh yes," she said. "I need this, but you may not enjoy it. I'm sorry."

She pinched my bottom and I gasped. Her fingers then kneaded away the pain from the pinch then slid my panties down to join my slacks clustered around my ankles.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

She pulled her hands away. I felt her move away from me. I imagined she was looking at me, considering what she intended to do next.

"If your hands move," she said. "I will punish you."

"They won't move," I told her.

"We'll see," she said. She stepped around me twice before stepping to my side. Without warning, she bent down and picked me up in her arms.

I immediately shrieked in surprise, but I managed to keep my hands where they were, as difficult as it was to resist clutching at her. She began spinning us both around, and I immediately lost track of which direction we were facing. She spun around again and again and then I was flying through the air, screaming.

I landed on the bed, bounced once, and came to a rest. My fingers were still laced at the back of my neck.

She was silent for a moment. "I'm proud of you, Allison," she said. I felt the bed shift. "I am going to untie your ankles now. You will remain submissive."

"Yes, Sarah," I told her.

I felt her at my ankles. She freed them then pulled my slacks, undies and socks from my feet. I lied on the bed wearing only the scarf tied around my eyes. She caressed my feet for a moment then reached down and bit one toe gently. I squirmed.

"I will allow you to use your hands for this," she said. "I want you kneeling on the bed on your hands and knees. Now."

I rolled over and climbed onto my hands and knees. Sarah caressed my cheek. "Has anyone ever tied you up before?" she asked me.

"Once," I told her. "A long time ago. An old boyfriend, before I learned I preferred women."

"Did you like it?"

"I don't know. It wasn't really different than what we normally did. He tied me up. He had sex. I was bored."

"Did you come?"

"I never came with him."

She was quiet for a moment before speaking. "I am going to rearrange you. You will move where I put you."

"Yes, Sarah."

She moved me around on the bed. When she moved to my feet, she caressed my bottom. "Lower your head," she ordered. "I want your elbows on the bed, not just your hands."

By now I was blindly obeying whatever she ordered. I immediately lowered myself, hoping I was pleasing her.

"Very good, Lover," she purred. I felt a rush go through me at the praise. "Spread your knees as widely as you can, but keep your ass in the air. If your ass dips, I will punish."

I rocked back and forth to spread my legs apart the way she ordered.

"Good girl," she said when I was done. She was still standing behind me, and I imagined she could see everything. Somehow I wasn't embarrassed. I should have been.

I felt her hand on my right ankle. She tied something around it, a scarf, a belt from a bathrobe, I couldn't tell, then tugged it tightly to the right, spreading my legs further, and tied it off to the bed frame. She did the same with the left.

Then her hand was back on my ass. She was caressing me gently.

"Are you sure you want me to continue?" she asked softly.

"Yes, Sarah."

"What is your word?"

"Octopus."

"Again," she said. "Again. Again."

I repeated the word to her.

"Will you forget?" she asked. "When you are terrified, will you have forgotten?"

"No, Sarah. Octopus."

"Good girl," she said.

I heard her walk around the bed and stand in front of me. The bed shifted, and suddenly her face was underneath me, pulling my lips to a kiss. She pulled me tightly into the kiss, then released me roughly.

She slid back off the bed, then I felt her begin to wrap a silk scarf around my wrists, tying them snugly together. She tied the scarf off to the bed frame, then tested it. My wrists hung out over the edge of the bed, and I couldn't pull them back.

"You look beautiful, Allison," she said. "Don't go away. Don't move. If you collapse against the bed, I'll know. Keep your ass in the air."

I heard her leave and walk down the hall. She was gone for a while, a couple of minutes. Then I heard her step back into the room, the floor boards creaking slightly.

"Did you move?"

"No, Sarah."

"Good girl. I was watching you."

She stepped up to the side of the bed. "Octopus, Allison," she said gently. "I brought rope from my backpack. I am going to tie it around your neck. The knot I am using is not a type that should slip. If it slips, you must scream your word immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sarah. Octopus."

"Good girl."

She caressed my cheek, then looped the rope around my neck very loosely. She tied a complicated knot, then rotated the rope so the knot was in front. She walked around the bed then reached between my legs and pulled on the rope. I felt it slithering past me. She pulled it tightly beneath me, and I felt her tie it off to the bed frame.

Then she walked around in front of me and checked the rope. "It should not impede your breathing," she said.

"It's not."

"Who is in control?"

"You are, Sarah."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

"Comfortable?"

"No."

She laughed.

"You're very cute," she told me. "All trussed up. I am a complete stranger. We're at an isolated cabin in the woods. I can do anything to you now. You already know I'm broken."

"Sarah, Octopus."

"What?"

"You're not broken. I think you've been hurt, but you're not broken."

She didn't say anything for a while. "Did you use your word because you want me to stop?"

"I used my word so you would know I was serious. You're not broken." I paused. "Anti-octopus."

She laughed. "Where was I?" She reached out and clasped my face. "Oh yes. I was about to tell you what I was going to do to you." She leaned down and whispered into my ear. "I am going to torture you."

And then her fingers were on my ribs, tickling me. I began squirming immediately, but I had nearly no mobility at all. Soon I was giggling and squirming.

"You aren't ordering me to stop," she said, still tickling.

In response, I pressed my lips together and shoved my face into the bed.

She immediately swatted my bottom. Hard.

"No!"

I lifted my face from the bed and she smoothed my bottom where she'd swatted me. Then she pulled away and walked around the bed. She stood behind me then attacked my feet.

"Oh god!" I said, trying to pull from her grasp. I had only a few inches of nobility, and she was merciless.

"Can't get away?" she asked.

"No," I told her. "Oh god."

"Good," she said. The tickling stopped, and she soothed my feet. Then I felt the bed shift as she climbed onto it, kneeling next to me. One hand slid up my left leg, coming to a rest in my crotch.

"Is this what you want, my helpless lover?"

"Yes!"

Her fingers began teasing me, and I felt myself part under her touch.

"Ooh," she said. "You're very wet." Two of her fingers between to tease my clit and I would have jumped to the ceiling from the sensation, if I could have.

I moaned instead.

At this point, my brain was nearly entirely shut down. I was completely open, helpless and vulnerable to her, and my entire body knew it. I felt myself surrender more deeply to her with every stroke of her clever fingers.

I squirmed and moaned.

She shift and reached under me with her left hand. The fingers of her left hand began teasing my clit while the fingers of her right hand began to invade inside of me.

"Oh god!" I said. The sensations were exquisite.

"You like this," she said.

"Yes!" I said, panting.

"If you come without permission, I will punish you."

"Oh god!"

Her clever fingers continued to tease me. Her hand shifted, and I felt fingers on my G-spot. She squeezed another moan out of me.

"You're awfully close, Allison," she said.

She was right. I couldn't stop squirming, and my breathing was in gasps.

"Don't you come, Allison," she ordered.

"I can't help it! Oh god, Sarah!"

"Do my hands feel good?"

"Yes!"

"You're about to come. You don't have permission to come yet, Sarah."

"Oh god! Oh god!"

She flicked my clit, and a shudder ran through me.

"I felt that, Allison," she said. "You must resist."

"No!" Another shudder escaped me.

"You won't like your punishment, Sarah," she said, her hands still working me expertly.

I squirmed and gasped, panting.

"Oh please, Sarah!"

"If you come now, before you have permission, I won't listen to your escape word," she said. "I will punish you."

Another shudder passed through me. She flicked my clit and pressed against my G-spot, and that was it.

I screamed in joy as the shudders began to wrack my body. "Oh Sarah! Oh Sarah!"

Her hands continued to work me expertly, dragging my orgasm out, the shudders continuing and continuing.

Slowly my body relaxed and I sagged. Her hands stopped moving and she withdrew them.

"Very naughty," she said. "I told you not to come."

"I'm sorry," I told her.

She slapped my ass. "Don't lie. That was the best orgasm you've had in a long time."

"Yes!" I told her.

"Open your mouth," she ordered.

I did, and she slipped her fingers into my mouth. "See what you taste like," she said. "Clean my fingers for me."

I closed my mouth around her fingers and tasted my own juices. I could smell my musk. I sucked on her fingers until she withdrew them. Then she gave me her other hand and I sucked on those fingers greedily.

"I always keep my promises, Allison," she said. "And I promised to punish you if you came without permission." She climbed off the bed. "Don't go away."

She padded out to the kitchen. I could hear her rummaging through the draws, then she said, "ah ah". I heard her pad back down to the bedroom.

"Do you know what I have, Allison?"

"No."

"I have a chef's knife, the one you were using earlier."

"What?"

"I am going to punish you now."

And then I felt something sharp running along the skin of my back.

"Sarah! Please!"

She knife stopped. "Were you going to try to control me?"

"No Sarah," I said. I started to tremble. I'd been foolish. I knew she was unstable. What had I been thinking?

The knife began moving on my skin again.

"Such lovely lines of red," she said.

She leaned over and licked my back.

"Sarah," I said in a quiet voice. "You don't want to do this."

"You need to be punished, Allison," she said.

I began to struggle, but I literally couldn't go anywhere. I was well trussed.

"Please stop!" I screamed. "Please don't cut me!"

"Shhhh," she said. "It's so pretty."

She shifted on the bed, then the knife began to slide against my buttocks.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!"

"I don't think so, Allison," Sarah told me.

Then I felt the tip of the knife poke my labia.

"Octopus! Octopus! Octopus! Octopus! Stop stop stop!" My heart was pounding in terror at what she was threatening to do to me.

Immediately the knife slide away from my crotch and began tracing a line along my side.

"Such pretty color. I do enjoy red," she said.

"Sarah, please stop."

The tip of the knife ran up to my underarm and over my shoulder, then slid along my arm. She shifted again, climbing off the bed, the knife pressing against the back of my hand cruelly.

Then she reached up and yanked the scarf from over my eyes. I stared down at the knife, but what I saw instead was her index finger poking me. The knife was nothing but her fingernail.

I stared at her fingernail. She slowly released the pressure.

I looked up at her. "No knife."

"No, Love," she said gently. "Only the one in your mind. I'm not a psychopath." She paused. "I thought a shrink might appreciate a mind game."

She stepped around me and began untying me from the bed frame. As soon as I could, I collapsed on the bed, still panting, leftover terror still pushing adrenalin through my body. She finished untying me then sat on the bed, a little distance away.

"Do you want me to leave?" she asked quietly.

"No," I said, my brain turning numb. "Will you hold me?"

"Yes, honey," she said. She shifted, leaning against the headboard, and pulled me into her arms.

Slowly my heart rate settled down. I looked up at her. She caressed my face then lowered her lips to mine and kissed me softly. I kissed her back.

"Sarah?"

"Yes, Allison?"

"Will you stay with me?"

She smiled. "Oh yes. I'm not remotely done with you."

About the author:

Julia P. Lynde lives and works in the American mid-west.

Julia is older than most of the characters in her books. She has blue eyes and grey hair. She enjoys hiking in the mountains (difficult to do in the mid-west) and hosting dinner parties.

Julia can be reached via email as julia.p.lynde@gmail.com.

Julia's other works include:

Novels

Rewind:

Emerging from traumatic events of her past, Shane is left dealing with newfound self-revelations until she seeks help from an unexpected quarter.

Veronica is a stunning and powerful businesswoman who knows what she wants and lives for the seduction involved in getting it.

Complicated doesn't begin to describe the results.

Rewind features graphic sex between consenting women and some light BDSM.

Pulled to the Dark: The Siriena Series Volume 1.

Felicia Conner begins having recurring dreams of the woman who gave her a great new job. Night after night, Petra appears in her dreams. Petra begins to teach Felicia the wonders of the dream world she inhabits while Felicia begins to wonder how she can have such lifelike dreams night after night.

Petra welcomes Felicia to the world of Siriena, where the world may just very well be as it seems.

This complete novel of 95,000 words contains swords, magic, intriguing characters, an easy-to-hate villain and graphic sex scenes between Felicia and Petra.

Shorts

Bound in Arrogance

"You wouldn't last two hours of my attention," Penny told me, turning it into a wager. Foolishly, I rose to the bait.

Bound in Arrogance features Veronica and Penny several years prior to the events in Rewind. It features light BDSM.

An Excerpt from Rewind

I remember the girl. She was young enough I thought of her as a girl but old enough I should call her a woman. She seemed unextraordinary. She was of moderate height wearing nondescript clothes. Jeans and a tee-shirt, I suppose. I’m not really sure now. In an earlier age she would have appeared out of place downtown during business hours, but with casual Friday turning into casual everyday over the years, the girl looked only slightly less dressed up than many of the people hurrying along the sidewalks during their lunch breaks.

Only she wasn’t hurrying. Maybe that’s why I first noticed her. Or maybe it was her hair. Long and almost flame red. One couldn’t help but notice her hair. It was unkempt and wind-tossed, but still very striking. I remember wondering whether she realized just how wonderful her hair was.

She seemed oblivious to what was going on around her. She stopped and knelt down, I suppose to tie her shoe. She must not have noticed the light rail train coming up behind her.

I don’t remember where I was going, what I was doing there. But I remember this. I was suddenly next to her, reaching down and wrapping my arms around her midriff, yanking her up to pull her out of the way moments before the train could reach her. She let out a quick screech. Or maybe it was the train.

I remember the impact. The train struck me in the back, really just a glancing blow, but it sent both of us flying. I hit something else. A parked car, perhaps.

Then all went black.

* * *

Time passed. I couldn’t have told you how much. I could only tell you that time had passed. Awareness came to me patiently. It started with sounds. None of the expected sounds, though. No traffic noises, no beeping of hospital machines, no footsteps of nurses hurrying to tend to patients.

I remembered the accident. I knew I had to have been badly hurt. I did a little mental check, wondering when the pain would kick in. I wondered briefly if I had been paralyzed in the accident, if that was the reason why I couldn’t feel anything. But I realized that I could feel my weight against the bed and a sheet pulled up to my chin. I eventually decided I must be on some really good painkillers. Gratitude seemed an appropriate emotion.

At some point I opened my eyes. It was dark at first, but then the room began to brighten. It was strange. Although I could see light, there was no form, nothing for my eyes to focus upon. It was as if I were seeing the entire world through frosted glass.

I heard a noise, the sound of someone shifting in a chair beside my bed. I turned my head to see who was watching over me. What I saw instead was a bright light, too bright to look into. I squinted, but that didn’t help. Then the light began to dim and a form began to take shape. Sitting in a comfortable chair beside my bed was a woman I didn’t recognize.

She was glowing with a white, golden, purple, red, silver light. I blinked. She was still glowing, smiling softly at me. I looked around, but all I could see was the bed I was in and the woman in her chair. There was nothing else to see.

I looked back at her, opened my mouth to speak. All that came out was a rough croak. I closed my mouth and swallowed. The woman continued to wait patiently, still smiling softly at me. I looked at her, waiting for my voice to come to me, and realized how amazingly beautiful she was. Here was a woman to steal the hearts of all mankind with just a glance of her eyes and a twitch of her mirthful lips. I was at least half in love with her immediately.

I tried again to speak. This time, the sounds made more sense. “Where am I?” I paused for just a moment. The woman seemed to know I had more to say. “The girl? Is she okay?”

As if pleased with my questions, her smile grew briefly before being replaced with a more serious expression. “Where are you? You are Between.”

The answer made no sense. “Between where?”

“Between Earth and Heaven,” was the reply. Which also made no sense. The woman just watched me, ever patiently, while I puzzled it out. I stared off in the distance, focusing on nothing for a moment, then my eyes snatched back to hers.

“I was wrong.”

“To be fair,” she replied. “You never really made up your mind one way or the other.”

I considered her words. She didn’t seem upset with me. “You’re…” I said, asking a question.

She just nodded once, slowly, almost as a mini bow.

“So, I died.”

“You weren’t supposed to,” she said. “Neither of you were. I’m sorry. I was…” she paused. “Distracted,” she said eventually.  “If I had seen what she was going to do, I’d have intervened.”

“But,” I said, sputtering. “You’re God. You can do anything! Can’t you just roll back time, undo everything?”

She looked at me sadly, apologetically. “You shouldn’t believe all the propaganda.”

“You said, ‘What she was going to do.’ She knew the train was coming?”

The woman nodded again. “I knew she was troubled. She had much to be troubled over, but so much promise too. I had such hopes for her.” Then she looked at me directly. “And for you.”

“For me? I’m just-“

She interrupted me. “No one is just anything. You all cast ripples throughout the world with small actions sometimes having such profound effect. You had some ripples waiting inside you, ripples I very much would have enjoyed watching. And the girl, too. I needed her, needed her to seek help for her troubles.” She paused, smiled for a moment. “Help can appear in the strangest places, you know.”

I let her words sink in. “The girl died too?”

“No. And yes. Her body is in a coma. Very recoverable. I wouldn’t even need to nudge things along. Which I almost never do anyway. But her soul is a different story. It’s in tatters. I can’t send her back like this, not for a long time. Too long for her body to wait for her.”

A glass of water appeared in her hand. She stood up, cradling my body for me, and held the glass to my lips. I drank carefully. Then she laid me back into the bed and smoothed the sheet over my body again.

She watched me, allowing me to settle my thoughts, before she spoke again.

“So, where was I? Oh, yes. Ripples. I would really, truly enjoy watching those ripples from both of you. But the problem is, I have one working soul: yours. And one working body: hers. I can’t send her soul back to her body, and I can’t send your soul back to your body. So we’re left with one working solution.”

She sat back, looking quite pleased with herself. She let me figure out the rest on my own.

“You want to send me back into her body?”

“Exactly!” she said, beaming. “It’s a good body. Slightly bruised of late, but bruises heal. She’s troubled, and you’ll inherit those troubles. You’ll have her memories, and I’ll leave you some of your own. I can’t let you take too many details with you; leaving you with the temptation to contact people from your old life is far too cruel. And I hope you can embrace this new life rather than pine for the old one.”

“You’re talking as if I have a choice.”

“Of course you do,” she told me. “I never send a soul to Earth if it doesn’t want to go.”

I considered for a moment. “Can I ask some questions first?”

“You want to know why I allow evil in the world.”

It was my turn to smile. “Of course I do, but I can figure that out on my own.”

She laughed, and it was if the heavens laughed with her. I suppose they did. “I gave you all brains,” she said finally. “I do so love when you actually use them.”

She sat, chuckling to herself for a few more moments, then quieted down and waited for me to ask my questions.

“Why me?” I asked simply.

“Oh, so many reasons,” she said. “But at the core of them is this: you have such a strong sense of right and wrong, and it all comes from within yourself. You don’t need me or anyone else to tell you what’s right and what’s wrong. I love this about you.”

I considered what she said. She was right, I guess. I hadn’t lived my life worrying so much about what others thought was right and what was wrong, but I decided myself. “What about when I’m at a disagreement with the religious leaders?”

“Ah, the people who profess to speak for me, who know what I like and what I don’t?”

I nodded.

“Take those people with a grain of salt,” she said simply.

“One more question?” I asked. She nodded. “My dog?”

“Your brother.”

At that point, I started to cry. “Hush, hush,” she said, patting my hand. “Your brother is going to grow to love your dog.”

“I know,” I said, blubbering. “He’s good with dogs. I was just afraid no one would take her in.”

She crawled into the bed with me, cradling me in her arms, rocking back and forth and making soothing noises.

“I’m sorry,” I said after a time. “I shouldn’t be this upset.”

“It’s hard to give up everything you once knew,” she replied. She continued to rock me as a mother would a young child. As I calmed down, she laid me back into the bed and slipped into her chair again. I dried my eyes with the sheet. She smiled.

“So what do you want me to do when I go back?”

“Be yourself,” she said. “Would you like some advice?”

I nodded.

She raised one finger. “Don’t talk about any of this.”

“They’ll think I’m mad.”

“Exactly.” She raised another finger. “Follow your heart.” She raised a third finger. “Trust your instincts.” She waggled her fingers at me. “Remember, help is sometimes found in unexpected places.”

She continued to waggle her fingers, almost in a wave, and I felt myself slipping away from her. But then she spoke again, and it was is if she were whispering directly into my ear.

“One last thing,” she said. “I surely do enjoy reading your stories.”

I remember my last thought as everything disappeared.

God likes my stories?

An Excerpt from Pulled to the Dark

I couldn't move.

At first I couldn't see, either.

I heard a voice, a woman's voice. She was humming and speaking words in a language I didn't recognize. Then, slowly, I could see.

I still couldn't move.

The woman was kneeling over me. That's all I could see, her form, kneeling over me. She saw my eyes looking at her, and she smiled, still humming and speaking words I didn't know.

She had long, raven black hair. It was brushed away from her right ear and hung over her left shoulder, dangling down between us. She was dressed in a bright red silk blouse and black skirt. She had slight features and bright green eyes. I judged her slightly older than my twenty-eight years.

She was perhaps the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.

I stared into her eyes. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came forth. "Where am I," I wanted to ask. "Who are you? What are you doing to me?"

She lifted her hand and placed it over my lips. Still, she smiled, speaking those words, her beautiful green eyes staring into mine.

She lifted her fingers from my mouth. They were long and delicate. Then I felt her stroke my sides with those same fingers, long, delicate strokes. I realized I was undressed, lying on my back with this woman staring down at me, still speaking her magic words.

I woke with a start, but one word hung in my ears.

"Mine."

Snow Bound

Copyright 2012 by Julia P. Lynde

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

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