The Night of the Blizzard.

She sat by the window looking up into the night sky. The snow flakes drifted down to the earth and looked like small stars. The evening had been full of such weather. A knot exploded from the fireplace, kicking sparks up the chimney, and still she never moved. She was waiting for him.

The nights hours slipped by slowly, much more slowly than her bottle of wine. Her thoughts drifted back over the last few days. He had given her a new hope, a form of salvation she did not know existed. His warm words and gentle touch had given her the strength to do what she must. But earlier that evening, her waiting was unimportant.

When her boyfriend had arrived that evening and started to touch her, to try to tease her, she had resisted for the first time. He asked her what was wrong and she told him everything she had been feeling for the past year. His touch was almost cold to her; there was no feeling behind it when they made love.

She had been a virgin when she met him a year before. She found him attractive and he had slowly but surely won her over. Through much coaxing, he finally convinced her to sleep with him. The first and only sex she would know for the following year left her confused.

She had heard her friends talk of the wonderful sexual encounters they had, how the loved to make love. But she was not feeling such things; their love making was usually quick and self serving for him. Afterward she always felt a deep burning inside of her. A yearning she did not understand. But only days ago, she felt a new stirring in her loins for another man and began to wonder what she was missing.

Her boyfriend now upset began to question her deeper, trying to coax her to tell him everything. She simply shut down on him and told him to leave her be. “Get out of my house and never return Jason. Your three minute marathons and “three strokes your out” nights are over as far as I am concerned.” He stormed from the house in a rage. She was finally free to explore these feelings. No longer held back by her morals or her conscience.

She poured the last of the wine into her glass and watched as the snow on the ground got deeper. She remembered the harsh words her boyfriend had used over the years. Telling her she was not attractive, that she was the reason she did not completely enjoy sex with him. And it took this new man to tell her that she was all she ever needed to be. She could be happy, but first she had to rid herself of the self doubt.

She was a full figured woman, with long flowing brownish blond hair, the tips just brushing her belt. Her jeans were snug, yet comfortable, enhancing her thighs and calves. The navy blue sweater she wore slightly masked her ample double D breasts yet enhanced her deep blue eyes. The wine she had consumed had added color to her cheeks and warmth to her slender fingers.

She had met him at work. She looked at him and saw something in his eyes that unnerved her. It was as if he could see into her very soul with those dark eyes. The slight smile on his lips spoke volumes about what he read in her. It was as if she had known him all her life.

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