Winter Storm

A blizzard can lift a mobile home right off its site and send it tumbling across the plains like a cardboard box. Days later, if some people stumble upon the wreck, they might find a family still inside and half alive, or maybe a pack of hungry coyotes will come first and sniff out the survivors. If you lived in a real house, one with a foundation, you wouldn’t have to worry about things like that. That’s what her mom said, half joking, when Jody bought her brand new mobile home.

Jody was proud of her new home. She had worked hard to save up every cent for the down payment. It had been a difficult five years, filled with countless hours spent working at the convenience store. Six nights a week, while her two children stayed overnight at her mom’s, Jody stocked shelves, made sandwiches and pizzas, sold lottery tickets, kept the gas pumps supplied with paper and washer fluid, cleaned the bathrooms and mopped the floors, all while she worked the register. And if the register didn’t balance in the morning, the boss took the money out of her $7.85 an hour pay.

Jody’s mobile home stood about ten miles out of town on a remote piece of empty land owned by her uncle. Last fall, when the men from the mobile home dealership were getting the site ready, she would go out there early every morning and watch them work. She wanted to be sure they prepared the site just right. The day when Jody and her two children finally moved in had been the happiest day of her life. Gradually she acquired enough furniture to fill the two bedrooms, the living room, and the dining room-kitchen. By early October, she had reached the point where she could revel in her proprietary instincts. Several times every day she polished the kitchen fixtures until she could see herself in the gleaming silver.

The fall went by happily for Jody. For the first time, both children went to school for the full day and she could switch to the day shift at the store. She spent more time around adults, and she even had some moments to herself.

With some time to breathe now, she began to notice things that would have completely escaped her attention during the past few years. One of these things was Darryl. In the past, Jody had never flirted with customers. Usually she was glad just to see them walk out the door. But she had always felt slightly different about Darryl. He worked in a garage about a quarter-mile down the highway toward town. He serviced and repaired cars, drove the tow truck, and had a snow plowing business on the side.

Darryl had been coming into the store on an irregular basis for years. This past fall, though, he started coming in for coffee every morning. He did this even though Jody knew full well that the guys at the garage kept a pot of coffee steaming in their front office at all times. Soon she found herself smiling a cheerful “hello” to Darryl every morning shortly after she arrived for her shift. This started in late October. Sometimes, when no one else was in the store, they would make small talk for a few minutes. Beginning in December, Darryl developed a habit of stopping by again mid mornings for a refill. The store was always empty then, and they could talk longer.

On a cold night in January, Jody was sitting by a window, alone in her home. She was recalling her mother’s remarks about how a blizzard could send a mobile home hurtling over the plains. She watched the full moon turn pale and then disappear behind a thickening bank of clouds. The radio weatherman was predicting a major snowstorm for the upper plains. The forecast warned of bitter cold, violent winds, and the potential for mountainous drifts of snow. Isolated flakes were already beginning to spiral downward.

It wasn’t just the impending storm that made the evening seem momentous to Jody. Darryl was coming to visit her at her home tonight. The children were staying over at her mother’s. Except for members of her immediate family, a man had not stepped inside her home since she bought it. She had scarcely associated with men at all during the past five years, not since Brent, the father of her two girls, had left. Thinking about Brent, she felt her stomach tighten with the sickening pain that turned up without fail whenever she remembered him. Her hatred of Brent remained the most powerful emotion she had ever known. Sometimes at night, she would hear him pounding at her door. She would wake up with a start, her heart racing and her throat dry, only to be overwhelmed with relief when she discovered it had been only a dream.

The arrangements for Darryl’s visit had evolved bit by bit during a few conversations over the previous week. With hindsight, Jody thought that perhaps she had acted recklessly in inviting him over. She knew what he would expect from her tonight -- there was no doubt in her mind that he would ask her to do it. Up to this late hour, she still wasn’t sure how she would decide. The only thing she knew for certain was that it would be her choice, and only her choice. She had a plan for what she would do if they disagreed over this point. In her bottom dresser drawer, beneath an assortment of multicolored socks, bras, and panties, she kept a Wesson 45 pistol, capable of holding six rounds. Until tonight, she had always kept it there, unloaded. This evening, though, she had loaded all six cartridges. She had handled them slowly and with great care, pausing a moment to caress the smooth rounded tip of each bullet before she inserted it.

As Jody waited, one scenario kept playing itself out again and again in her mind, always with vivid clarity. If by some chance Darryl didn’t like the word “no,” if she saw violence in his eyes, if he so much as touched her without her consent, she knew just what she would do. “Wait,” she would tell him, “I just bought some sexy new panties. They’ll really turn you on, and I can’t wait to try them on for you -- just let me get them out of my drawer.” Every time she considered the consequences of such an action, she concluded invariably that the police would side with her. After all, she owned this home.

Jody reined in her wandering thoughts when she heard the loud rumbling of Darryl’s truck out front. Like probing searchlights, the headlights shot through her narrow living room -- in through the front windows and right out the back.

“Look’s like we’re in for a big one, Jody,” Darryl proclaimed when she opened her door. In his heavy coat he filled up the doorway. He practically had to squeeze inside. A sense of foreboding overpowered Jody as soon as he stepped into her living room. She felt as if she had just let in a wild animal, something menacing and ferocious – like a lumbering grizzly bear or a prowling timberwolf. Snow crystals had settled upon Darryl’s bushy eyebrows, and ice crystals were caked in the strands of long wavy hair that fell in a ponytail down his back.

For dinner Jody had prepared a chicken casserole. While they ate they talked about the storm. She paid as much attention to Darryl’s table manners as she did to his conversation. His manners were not bad, she concluded. He kept his napkin in his lap and cut his food quietly. Of course he asked about her girls’ father. She had expected those questions. She told him about the restraining orders, and she mentioned that she didn’t want any child support from the kids’ father because she never wanted to hear from that bastard again. Listening to her, Darryl remained silent and pensive. By the end of the meal she was still not sure, but she was leaning toward saying yes.

“It’s good you drove here with the plow hitched to your truck,” she said. “That way, you’ll be sure to get home okay tonight.”

He nodded. “When no one else can get through, I always do.”

“Don’t you think you should be heading back out soon?”

“What about the movie?” he asked.

Of course, she remembered, they’d talked about watching a video after dinner. Still, she asked him one more time if he would be safe driving home so late, and he assured her that he would be just fine.

They watched an action movie. There were car chases and fist fights; cars exploded, as did several trucks and office buildings. Between explosions, Jody and Darryl exchanged glances. Seated next to him on the couch, she kept count of his beers. As he was about to pop open his fifth can, she wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t -- he wouldn’t be able to drive safely. But she kept silent. The can popped, making an insolent, mechanical sound. Suddenly she felt as if a decision had just been made for her, imposed upon her.

Then there was a sex scene in the movie. The handsome action hero and the young woman he had saved from the last exploding building found refuge in an elegant Parisian hotel room. Seductively, the woman removed her blouse and skirt. The camera cut to a close-up of her full breasts swelling out of the cups of her lacy bra. Just as the hero reached out to touch those welcoming breasts, the camera discreetly panned to the window. Outside, the Eiffel Tower presided majestically over the sloping rooftops of Paris. A few minutes later, Jody felt Darryl’s hand caress the strands of hair covering her right ear. She quickly stood up and walked, almost ran, into the bathroom.

She locked the door and sat down on the plastic toilet seat cover, then covered her face with her trembling hands. In the blackness she could see the faces, hear the sounds, the voices: Brent banging on the door of their old apartment, screaming and cursing at her in one of his drunken rages; the shattering of window glass; the police sirens. How many times had it happened? Then there were Brent’s useless trips to rehab, the children’s sweet toddler voices – where’s Daddy? When will Daddy be back?

The ministers were right, Jody thought. Sex was truly an evil thing. For five long, difficult years she had succeeded in driving those urges from her mind and body. If she had not done that, how could she ever have accomplished so much? Now, on the other side of this door, seated on her couch, was a man who was practically a stranger, and she had invited him into her home. She knew too well that one powerful impulse was in control of his mind now; one goal was inciting every nerve in his body.

Gradually Jody felt her resolve strengthen. She opened the bathroom door and stepped out.

“Okay, I’m ready,” she said.

“Ready?” He looked up at her, puzzled.

“Let’s do it right here,” she said. “You can stay over, but after we do it, I want you to sleep here in this room, on the couch.”

“It’s okay, Jody. We don’t have to. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

She didn’t offer a verbal response. Instead, she began to unbutton her shirt.

When her shirt had dropped to the floor, she stood up tall and straight, facing Darryl as he sat on the couch. She unzipped her tight black jeans and pulled them to the floor. Her panties were pale blue, matching her bra. His eyes were fixed upon her chest as she reached behind to unfasten the bra. Released from their support, her breasts fell forward, the tips quivering for a moment and then coming to rest. She drew the thin cotton panties all the way down her legs, discarding them at her feet. Now he stared directly at her crotch. His eyes gleamed like those of a starving man before whom a sumptuous meal has been placed, but who pauses, restrained by a fear that perhaps the feast was not really intended for him. She let him stare. His gaze never strayed from the dense growth of curly black hair blossoming over her mound.

“Well?” She said.

His eyes rose to meet hers. He stood up, hesitated, then slowly began to undress. She scrutinized him while he shed his clothes, just as he had done to her. Without the heavy shirt, he was still a large, broad-shouldered man. She examined his bare arms, the biceps thick and muscular from heavy work. When he reached for his belt buckle, he paused again. She raised her eyebrows, silently challenging him. He responded by dropping his jeans and boxer shorts. His hips were surprisingly narrow. Midway between them his dark cock curved upward -- it seemed to be reaching straight up in a valiant but unsuccessful effort to touch his navel. The uplifted shaft left his tight little scrotum sack exposed and looking oddly small suspended there below his imposing torso.

He paused, looking again to Jody for direction. When she stepped over to the couch and sat down, he followed her and did the same.

“Are you ready?” She asked.

He nodded.

Jody slid on to her back, casually nudging him off the couch with her legs. He got up and made a quick detour to his pants, which lay crumpled on the floor nearby. He found a condom, put it on, and returned to the couch.

Crouching over Jody, Darryl positioned himself between her legs. As he moved, the latex-covered cock swayed in front of him like the branch of a tree rocking in the wind. He began to kiss her flowing hair, burrowing into it vigorously. Jody wondered if he was searching for the ear he had tried to touch with his fingers a short time ago. When he found the ear lobe, he drew it into his mouth and caressed it gently with his tongue. She watched his cock bobbing fitfully against her stomach as his hand roamed through her abundant pubic hair. He was searching for her slit. At first she felt his touches probing up too high; then he went far off to one side. When his fingers finally encountered the outline of her closed lips, he slipped his finger inside. He kept his finger there, as if to hold his place until he could bring his much thicker and unwieldy cock to the spot.

As he tried to push inside, Jody felt her dry tightness rejecting him. He was being patient, she could tell that. He moved slowly, attempting gentle in-and-out thrusts. Eventually he was able to squeeze the smooth round head inside. He increased his tempo, making rapid little moves, as if he thought this would produce moisture down there. Finally, Jody felt herself expand slightly. She gave one strong forward thrust. With her single push, he went all the way up inside. The suddenness made her cry out loud. He came immediately. His body trembled and he groaned, not with pleasure, but with a deep sigh of regret. A long silence followed. He rested quietly above her while she felt him grow soft inside her. When she shifted her hips, he flopped out, limp and shrunken.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, clearing his throat. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this -- a really, really long time.”

“It’s okay,” Jody said. “Nice try, anyway.”

At that moment, the lights in the kitchen went out. Jody looked up to see the bright red numerals on the digital clock disappear. Out behind the kitchen, the electric motor for the heater sputtered and then became silent. The wind roared around the house, driving wave after wave of snow against the thin metal walls.

“Oh my God, I’ve lost power!” Jody exclaimed.

“I’ll get a flashlight from my truck,” Darryl said, trying to sound competent and helpful.

“I have candles, “Jody said. Draping a blanket around her shoulders, she got up to find them.

A few minutes later they were sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table. Wrapped in heavy thermal blankets, they looked like two Eskimos who had just wandered in from a polar hunt. A single candle glowed brightly between them. Darryl had just begun another apology. Jody cut him off.

“So how long has it been, really?” She asked.

“You mean . . . ?”

“Yes, you said it was a long time ago when you last did this. How long ago was it?”

“I don’t remember exactly.”

“I bet you do.”

“Maybe I do.”

“Who was she?”

“Does it make a difference to you?”

“Yes, I guess it’s natural to want to know where you fit in, that’s all. I know you never got married. So, was it a one-night stand?

“No.”

“Oh, I see . . . Don’t tell me -- you were in love with somebody?”

“Yes.”

Jody had meant her question sarcastically. She had not expected to hear the firm, clear tone in his voice.

“Was it for a long time?” she asked. “You and her?”

Darryl took a deep breath and eased back in his chair. The candle’s gleam lighted the prominent features of his face, his nose and forehead, while his beard and long hair kept his other features in darkness. He seemed to have a story he wanted very much to tell, and Jody decided that for a few minutes she might as well listen.

He told her that in high school he had begun to go out with a girl named Megan. Things got serious quickly. After they graduated, Megan went away to college, and Darryl stayed in town working at the garage. During Megan’s first year away he would see her over vacations and holidays, and in between he missed her all the time. He missed her so much that he found out what books she was assigned for her all her classes. He went out and bought them. At night, alone in his room at his parents’ house, he would read them.

It was obvious to Jody where his story was headed. The break-up came early in Megan’s second year of college. Darryl explained that it wasn’t just that she’d had another boyfriend. She went through a string of them, secretly, beginning the first month of her first year away. These revelations devastated him, and now, as he described the experience, he displayed the effects of a lingering pain.

For her part, Jody did not find the pathos contagious. Her capacity to sympathize with the heartaches of late adolescence had its limits. Darryl had been nineteen when he went through his romantic distress. At that age, Jody was already pregnant with her second child.

“Did you ever see her again, after that?” Jody asked. She hoped he would tie up the loose ends of his story and move on to some new topic, one that might interest her a little more -- such as when was he going to get out of her house.

“I saw her about two years ago,” he continued. “Megan drove up to the garage. There was a guy in the car with her. For all I knew, by that time it could have been her husband. Anyway, she walked right up to me and paid for the gas. I gave her change. All this time she pretended she didn’t even know me. She didn’t say a word to me. She just walked away.”

His description of the incident caught Jody’s attention. “Ouch!” she exclaimed. “What a bitch.” Now she sincerely disliked this woman, whoever she was.

“Shows you what she thought about trailer trash,” Darryl added.

“What did you say?” Jody sat up abruptly, her eyes flashing with anger.

“That’s what she called me -- the last time we talked before we broke up for good. I was telling her how I’d been saving up to buy a house, a good mobile home, you know. It was sort of a dream I had back then. I told her I thought maybe we’d live in it together some day. That’s when she told me there was one thing she was damn sure about, which was that she wasn’t going to be spending the rest of her life living around trailer trash.”

Whenever Jody became particularly angry, her chest would heave and she would breathe heavily through her nose. She did both now.

“I never could save up enough for a trailer, though,” Darryl shrugged. “So I used what I’d saved up back then to buy my plow.”

Fifteen minutes ago, Jody had not even known that this Megan woman existed. Now she despised her as if they had been life-long enemies.

Jody stood up and began to walk in circles around her darkened living room. In her mind she could see the procession of faces that passed through her store every day -- the tourists who stopped in from the Interstate, the families with their S.U.V.s, the businessmen in suits and ties. At work she had to wear a bright orange vest with her first name embroidered on the pocket. She knew that while she was ringing up sales, the customers were staring at her as if she were an attachment to the register. Now she wondered what those people might really be thinking as they watched her. She tried to imagine their thoughts. What would they say if they saw where she lived? If they came out and saw her home, most of them would probably joke about it. They’d use names like “trailer trash,” just like that Megan woman did.

Thoroughly distracted, Jody took the candle and began to check each window in the house to make sure it was locked securely against the driving snow. She ended up in her bedroom. As she stood there in the stillness, clutching her blanket around her body, she kept asking herself: Just who do I think I am? . . . Who do I really think I am? . . . I go around acting superior to this poor guy, and we’re both so bent out of shape, we can’t even make love? When she attempted to look out the window, she found herself staring at her own clear reflection in the glass. At first she didn’t notice it, but then she saw the vague outline of a smile unfolding upon her lips.

When Jody returned to the darkened living room she could hardly make out Darryl’s form. He was still sitting hunched up on the couch, slowly rubbing his hands for warmth. Then she remembered something that made her panic.

“The pipes!” she called out. “The water pipes -- they’ll freeze because the heat’s off.”

“If they freeze, they’ll break,” Darryl’s voice called back to her.

“I know. I know,” Jody spoke hurriedly. “I have to shut off the water supply. There’s a valve outside, somewhere, sticking up out of the ground in front of the house.”

Jody and Darryl bundled up quickly and ventured outside. Flying snow crystals stung their faces while they searched for the valve in two feet of snow. After a frigid twenty minutes, they uncovered it. Unfortunately, the lever had frozen solidly in place. Darryl offered to go and get a wrench from his truck. When he muttered that he hoped that tool would work better than his other one did, Jody kept silent. He came back with his wrench, and it worked. With a few firm pulls he easily shifted the valve to its off position.

“The water’s off now,” he said. “When your power comes back on, you’ll need to move the valve back the other way, like this.” He showed her how it turned. “Here,” he added, “I’ll leave my wrench with you. I trust you to bring it back to me when you can. And thanks for having me over.”

He handed her the wrench and turned to walk toward his truck.

“But the snow,” Jody called out after him, almost shouting to be heard in the wind, “You can’t drive in this snow!”

“I drive a plow, remember?”

“Darryl!” Now she really screamed. She held up the wrench in a mock threat, “Get back in the god damn house right now, or I’ll kill you.” As he approached her, she lowered her weapon and said, “I need you to keep me warm tonight.”

This time they went directly to her bedroom. She placed a lighted candle on the dresser. “This is the only light within a half-mile of here,” she said.

“We’re in the sticks,” he said.

“The sticks is right,” she smiled and turned to face him. He stared back at her, looking somewhat bewildered by the turn of events. Jody felt a warm flush rising in her cheeks, and perhaps this was due to her recent exposure to the cold. But in a different part of body she was experiencing a sudden, more powerful surge of heat, and this had nothing to do with the weather outside.

As soon as Jody had unbuttoned Darryl’s blue flannel shirt, her hands rushed to grasp at the bare skin of his chest. She dug her fingers into his solid flesh and glowing red marks appeared wherever she pressed hard against his skin. She quickly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. As she lowered his shorts, the solid weight of his cock bumped unexpectedly against her hands, exciting her even more.

She removed one article of his clothing after another until he stood completely naked before her. A torrent of urges overpowered her, urges to do things with his body -- hot, forbidden things, perhaps things she had never done with a man before.

For a moment Jody remained fully clothed and let him stand naked before her. His vulnerability gave her great pleasure. She could let her fingers roam through his long wavy hair, unfurling the strands across the breadth of his back. Her fingertips traced the length of his thick eyebrows, then moved down the ridge of his nose. She delighted in feeling the contrasting textures of his smooth upper cheeks and the prickly beard below. His lips quivered at the touch of her index finger.

She kissed him full upon the lips. Her tongue crept into his mouth, coaxing his bashful tongue to life, nuzzling it, caressing it, moving in circles around its length. She reached behind him and let her hands roam over his rugged shoulders. Her fingers followed the course of his spine down to his buttocks where his skin was perfectly smooth. With all her strength she squeezed his butt cheeks, testing the resilience of the firm flesh beneath his satin-soft skin. He shuddered when she cupped his balls in her hand. She could feel the two oval shapes pressed against her palm. Taking them one at a time between two fingers, she gave each one a prolonged, gentle squeeze. While she did this, his head rolled around on his shoulders and then fell backwards, exposing the pale skin of his neck below his beard. His entire body trembled while she held him down there, but he made no sound of protest. Now she was convinced that he posed no threat to her; she could possess him completely.

After Jody had taken off all her clothes, she moved to her bed and reclined on her side. She felt Darryl’s long body stretch out behind her. The rounded shapes of her small breasts glowed golden in the candlelight, and she hoped he would touch them soon. His hands were playing in her hair. She had long straight hair that flowed over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back. She took great pride in hair -- she had always considered it her most attractive feature. She could sense his delight as he stroked the fine silken strands. He spread them out over her bare back, sending shivers down her spine, making her shoulders tingle. Then with gentle strokes he began to caress the short downy hairs that lined the back of her neck. His touches there tickled at first, but after a few minutes they felt incredibly soothing. Then she realized she had never felt touches as arousing as these before. It was a pleasure too intense to endure. Tears welled up in her eyes. She shook her head gently so her hair would fall forward and cover her face.

When he touched her pussy this time, it did not feel at all as it had before. She rolled over on to her back and parted her legs to encourage his touches. Before, she had been so cool, almost numb down there. Now she felt as if she had revealed the opening to a raging furnace. His touches sizzled and burned. Taking hold of his hand, she maneuvered it down between her legs. She placed his wrist firmly on the mass of hair covering her mound, and she pushed her swollen clit forward until it pressed against his palm. Two of his long thick fingers slid easily into her open hole. While she held his hand tightly against her body, she began to thrust her crotch rhythmically against his palm. His hand must have been twice the size of hers, and it was incomparably stronger.

Sometimes, alone in her bed at night, Jody moved against her own hand like this, but it had never felt this intense, never so irresistibly good. As she pumped her hips, his fingers slid in and out, drenched in her wetness. When the pressure, the rhythm, felt just right, she released his hand from her grip and let him push against her without any help. Soon her knees were bent down, almost touching her chest, and her feet were dangling high over her head. She let her body roll back and forth, propelled by the driving thrusts of his hand. She wanted him to press harder, to rock her with all the strength she knew he had. Each time he pushed down, she shoved back, grunting and panting. She did not want to say anything out loud, but one refrain, one command kept running though her mind: Harder, please, please push harder! The mounting tension had gripped her and would not release her. Finally, her back arched upward, and the first tremors quivered between her legs. As the delightful explosions erupted, her cries echoed through every room of her house.

When the time came for Darryl to perform, he functioned very well. Once he started, he moved confidently, and he kept on moving. Jody was pleased to find that he allowed her plenty of space to move underneath him. At one point she even grew anxious that he might not come at all. To encourage him, she dug her heels into those firm butt cheeks of his, then drove her pelvic bone up tightly against his crotch, squeezing him from the front and the back at the same time. This worked perfectly. When he stiffened inside her and finished with a sigh, she nearly came again herself

He had barely stopped moving when the lights went on in a flash. The numbers on the digital clock glowed red, still showing the time from two hours ago. Out back the heater began to hum. They had to dress and go outside to turn the water back on. Then they hurried back inside and returned to bed.

Jody adjusted the clock to the correct time, 12:45 a.m. She had the next day off, but she set the alarm early for Darryl. He had to be well underway by dawn. Dozens of families and half the businesses in town were depending on him to plow out their properties by nine o’clock. She fell asleep with Darryl’s burly arm hooked around her waist; his knees were bent into the fold of her legs. Now and then while the storm raged on through the night, the entire house shook and rocked, but Jody never heard it.

She woke up to find the sunlight streaming in through her bedroom window. She vaguely remembered Darryl getting up and leaving while it was still dark. In the kitchen she stood and looked out at the blinding whiteness. She noticed that a large open space in front of her house had been cleared of snow. The long dirt road running from her home out to the town highway had also been plowed.

Outside the air outside was clear and bracing. It made Jody’s lungs tingle as she brushed the snow from her car. Her breath froze in little white clouds that hovered around her head.

She had to run some errands before she picked up her children at noon. On her way into town, she noticed all the houses with their driveways freshly plowed. Approaching the main street, she saw that the parking lots of all the commercial properties had been cleared. The snow had been pushed up into orderly piles along the borders of each lot. The white peaks of the snowpiles sparkled in the exhilarating morning light.

Tight