A Week in the Snow Read Online Free PDF Page A

decided a shower would be a good idea.
    Once under the warm water, with her body clean and her mind finally catching up to all the events of the evening, she marvelled again at the fact that she was alive and well. It could have turned out so differently. She tried to think of what the alternative scenarios might have been, but quickly abandoned that line of thought. She decided simply to be grateful she was still around.
    The shower had two showerheads, water coming from both directions. She revelled in the feeling of it, like a massage, very different from the single showerhead in her tiny Miami apartment. She pressed her fingers against the back wall and arched into the water, concentrating on the way it slid over her body, the way it trailed from her neck to her back and down to her legs, then swished around her toes before gurgling down the drain.
    It was hard to believe this shower could be so warm, while, just outside the window, the air was so impossibly cold.
    She suddenly thought about where she was supposed to be, and what she was supposed to be doing there. She should have been in Gene’s arms, in his bed, doing all sorts of wild and passionate things with him, just like they had both dreamed about for long months. Instead, she was stranded in the middle of a little nowhere town. Gene had no idea where she was.
    She pictured him as well as she could, drawing on her memory of those photographs he had sent her over the Internet connection. She envisioned his broad chest, the smattering of black hairs, the almost-flat stomach and the strong, shadowed jaw.
    She also envisioned those pictures of his long, hard cock, the photographs that filled the computer screen when she opened the file, the ones that made her mouth water and her heart pound. The thought of having that in her mouth or between her thighs had kept her dreams in high gear. Now he was within less than an hour’s drive, but there was no way she could get to him.
    But she did have him in her head, didn’t she?
    Rebecca grinned and rested her forehead against the cool wall of the shower. The emotion of the evening caught up with her again, but instead of the urge for tears she felt the urge to do something that proved she was alive—something vital, something powerful.  The water slid down her back, arrowed down over her ass and dripped from her pussy. She let her breasts brush that shower wall, too—and though the water was incredibly hot, the wall was still cool. The rush of sensation was heady, made more powerful by the emotion of the evening. She pressed harder, until her nipples were flat against the wall, hardening at the contact, her breasts tingling with the pressure.
    She took a deep breath and arched her back, pushing her head under one of the streams of water. It cascaded over her face. She held her breath as long as she could. When she pressed her forehead against the wall again, she was breathing hard. She spread her legs a bit wider, and suddenly she could see the picture in her head of what she must look like: a young, sexy woman dripping wet, her legs open, her whole body braced, waiting for whatever a lover might do to her.
    Rebecca stood under the water and let the feeling build. The fantasy took flight, the images of Gene’s cock in her head adding fuel to the fire. She thought about the way he sounded when he came, so strong and vulnerable all at once, and that alone was enough to send a surge of wetness between her thighs. She slid her hand down her flat stomach and rested it there, right below her belly button.
    The water cascaded over her fingers as her thoughts took a different turn. She imagined someone was watching her, someone she didn’t know, and her thoughts of Gene slipped away to be replaced by this new, intriguing fantasy. She pictured a man behind her, watching her while she went about what she was doing right then, which was sliding that hand even farther down.
    She brushed the inside of her thighs and pressed her