Gold

by E. J. Noyes

  Rachel unzipped my jeans and began to wriggle out of hers. “So many sexy mums today. I’ve been wet all day.” It was always like this with us, frantic undressing giving way to frantic screwing. Days of looking at hot clients made her, well…hot. Some days I was just as bad, and at that moment I was insatiable.

  “I got one for you,” I murmured as her tongue made a wet path over my neck.

  “The chick you were talking to at the bar?” Rach bit my earlobe.

  “Mhmm.” I groaned when she bit me again. My hands suddenly got very busy.

  “Nice,” she breathed, pulling my shirt over my head, making me wonder why I’d bothered to dress after my shower. “That woman won the genetic lottery.” Rach made her way down, kissing my breasts and sucking a nipple into her mouth. We weren’t going to make it to the bedroom.

  I gasped when her teeth grazed flesh and suddenly, was overcome with lust. Most of it directed toward Catherine Tierney. Those piercing eyes, the way she’d flushed, her delicate hands, her voice. I yanked Rachel up and kissed her hard. She moaned, tongue meeting mine when I lifted her and bore her toward the couch.

  I rolled her onto the couch and climbed on top, slipping my thigh between hers. This was a familiar tune, the frantic ending when we couldn’t keep a lid on our desire anymore.

  “Fuck me,” she begged, wriggling out of her panties. “Now, please. Hard.” She grabbed my hand and thrust it between her legs.

  My stomach curled again, a current shimmering down my legs and pulsing in my groin. I gave Rach everything she asked for, and begged things of her, but the whole time I thought of a blond woman with questioning blue-gray eyes.

  Chapter Three

  Gemma took a shorter morning lesson the next day, one that was mercifully fall-free and full of improvement. She relaxed a little, opening up to joke and then engaged with me in a deep discussion about our theories on various plot points from the most recent Star Wars movie. She questioned me at length about when I’d started skiing and how much training I had to do, and then about my medals. When I told her about my bronze and silver from Torino, and the bronze and gold from Vancouver she deemed it, “So cool.”

  Tess nabbed me after lunch. “Aspen, we’ve had a new request for you so I’ve given your last group lesson to Edward.”

  “Sure. What level?”

  “Expert. Two hours. Sorry to screw your schedule around, but they wanted you and only you. Didn’t think you’d mind.”

  I forced my voice to remain calm, though my stomach was trying to climb out of my esophagus. “Yeah, sure, no worries. I’ll be out in a minute.” That one word, expert, had pushed aside any pleasure I may have gained from being the client’s personal request.

  Judging by the trembling in my legs, this lesson was a sure thing for a raging anxiety attack. The fear was so stupid and so unpredictable. Some days I could ski double blacks and the hardest terrain without issue. Other days I was crippled by the mere thought of skiing something I could do in my sleep, or I’d panic when someone else fell over like I had the day before.

  I made my way down the stairs, into the staff room and grabbed my powder skis and poles from the rack along the far wall. Staring at my reflection in the small mirror stuck to the side of the lockers, I gave myself a pep talk. “You’ve skied all these trails hundreds of times, Aspen. No big deal. Get over it.” I nodded decisively, pretending that my self-chat would actually have a positive effect.

  Back outside, Tess pointed to a woman standing alone at the far end of the racks. “That’s her.”

  The trembling dialed up a notch. My expert client was none other than Catherine Tierney. Oh shit. I tried very hard not to think about the fact that I’d screwed someone last night while thinking about this woman. To be fair, Rachel was probably thinking about her last night too, but Rach didn’t now have to spend two hours alone with the object of her lust.

  As I approached from behind her, I noted Catherine staring down at her skis sliding back and forth in the dirty slush. She was either nervous or had a hard time being still.

  “Catherine?”

  Her head snapped up, a smile lifting the edges of her lips. “Aspen, hello.” With her eyes hidden behind goggles, I couldn’t fully discern her expression. She tugged her cuff over her glove. “Thanks for fitting me in today.”

  “My pleasure.” I gave her a once-over—for strictly professional reasons—and dropped my skis to the snow. “Gimme a moment, and we can head over to the lift and talk on the way up. You okay with starting on a blue so I can do a quick assessment?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I let her go ahead of me to the lift, partly because I’m a gentlewoman and partly because I wanted a chance to look at her. Even shuffling through snow she moved like a dancer, lithe and graceful, and I was struck with a sudden odd flutter. Not nerves this time, but a feeling I couldn’t quite pin down. It felt a lot like curiosity, which was different to the lust I’d already associated with her. We settled onto the chairlift with a solo skier sitting at the opposite end.

  My mouth was dry with anxiety and sitting next to such an attractive woman wasn’t helping. I unzipped my jacket and pulled out my water bottle for a small mouthful. The lift rocked a few times then settled into its familiar halting ride up the mountain. I put the bottle back, zipped up and fixed my scarf. “Why don’t you tell me about your experience, what you’re looking to improve on, or achieve?”

  Her eyes flicked from my mouth to my eyes. “I’ve been skiing since I was a kid, and we ski almost every weekend during the season.” She peered over the edge of the lift seat. “I’m comfortable on the single diamonds but I’d like a little more confidence and to move up to the doubles full time.”

  I nodded. “Sure thing. There’s plenty of options for black runs here so once we’ve done this blue, we’ll see where to go next.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Where do you usually ski?”

  “Breckenridge.”

  Breck wasn’t too far away from Beaver Creek where I’d done most of my training. “Nice.” I raised an eyebrow. “Do you always go to Colorado?”

  “Yes.” Catherine smiled. “We live about forty minutes outside of Denver.”

  Good one, Aspen. Even though I’d had two lessons with her, I’d never asked Gemma where she lived. I suppressed the urge to raise my hand for a high five, and settled for an enthusiastic, “Awesome! If I’m home, I’m at Beaver Creek but I learned to ski at Breck.”

  “I know,” she said. The revelation wasn’t as awkward as it sounded. Information about me, including where I started skiing and where I used to train, was freely available on the Internet. My address in Edwards, Colorado was probably even listed on some website. Still, it felt a little strange that anyone would care enough to look or remember, after so many years away from competition.

  I turned on the seat, resting my elbow on the safety bar. “Yeah…I was practically born on the mountain. Hence the name, my father’s choice.”

  “I like it.”

  “Mmm. It could have been worse. My sister’s called Spruce.” My delivery was perfectly deadpan.

  “Really?” Her expression made it clear that she thought it strange, but was apparently too well-mannered to say it aloud.

  I couldn’t help but grin. “No. I’m teasing.” We jolted over the final lift tower before the top station.

  “Ah. Damn you.” Catherine leaned over, bumping me deliberately with her shoulder. A strange gesture, seeming far too forward for someone she’d just met. Then again, I’d learned that when you’re in the public eye, people think they know you, and are comfortable around you quicker. Or maybe she was just one of those people who were entirely at ease with touching a stranger.

  I leaned forward to double-check our departure was clear, then lifted the bar. “After you.”

  She tapped the handle of her pole against her helmet in salute and skied gracefully off the lift. I followed, and checked out her ass. Very bad instructor. But it was a v
ery nice ass.

  Out of the way of other people disembarking, I stopped and lifted my goggles. The sun was starting to touch the top of the mountain, making the glare dim enough to be comfortable without eye protection. Another gorgeous afternoon and a lesson with a beautiful woman. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. “Let me just check your gear.”

  “Sure.”

  I leaned over, testing the tension on her boots and the condition of her bindings. All her gear was well cared for but also well used. I twisted to look up at her. “How do you feel about your boots?”

  “Good.” She paused. “But you think…?”

  “I think you could go just a notch tighter for more stability which should give you more confidence and control. But it’s your call at the end of the day.” I grinned. “You’ve been skiing for a while and I’m just a ring-in.”

  “I trust you,” Catherine said quietly.

  “Great. Tighter it is.”

  She bent as though she was going to fix them but I planted my poles in the snow and held up my hand. “I’ve got it. All part of the service. I just have to touch your leg, if that’s okay?” Standard disclaimers for any physical contact, nothing unusual here. All professional. Moving along.

  “Of course.”

  I unfastened each buckle then placed a hand on her leg to steady myself as I re-tensioned the boot. Her calf muscle flexed under my hand every time I closed a buckle. I kept up an internal chant while I did my job—I will not squeeze what feels like very nice calves, I will not run my hand up her leg. “How’s that?”

  Catherine wiggled her ski side-to-side. “Not uncomfortable, but a little strange. I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”

  After the second boot, I straightened up and nearly hit my head on her chin. “Sorry. I’ll just check your helmet and we’re good to go.” I pulled a glove off and tested the fit of her helmet, my fingers brushing the warm skin of her cheeks. She lifted her hand to tug at the strap and I had to snatch mine out of the way. My voice sounded rough when I confirmed, “Feels good.”

  A pair of snowboarders slid off the lift, quickly buckled into their bindings then without a word headed straight down The Glades. Catherine turned her gaze to them, leaning forward like she couldn’t wait to follow. I shuffled forward. “Okay, whenever you’re ready. I’ll stay behind you and see how you’re traveling. Take it at your own pace, nobody to impress here.”

  “Sure thing.”

  I settled my goggles over my eyes and moved aside to let her pass. “See you at the bottom.”

  Catherine Tierney was a good skier. No, she was a great skier, fluid and careful and with the grace of an ice dancer. She had a minor issue with posture, which was probably where most of her confidence problems came from and I knew after a few minutes that the lesson would be an easy one. I was so busy admiring her, I almost forgot my anxiety. When she stopped at the bottom, a wide smile stretched her wind-flushed cheeks.

  I pulled up beside her, careful not to cover her legs with powder. The kids liked it but adults not so much. “Nice run. Let’s ride back up and we’ll talk.”

  Back on the lift, I laid out what I’d seen and my ideas, demonstrating as best I could while seated. She nodded thoughtfully. “It makes sense when you put it like that.” Her tone suggested she was impressed with my assessment, and I was surprised to find I craved her approval of me as someone who knew what they were talking about.

  After another run, she’d improved her posture and was skiing more aggressively, and far more confidently. The woman was a quick study and wouldn’t need another lesson. What a pity. Actually, she probably hadn’t even needed to take this one. We took a breather near the lower lift station and I drank more water. It didn’t help my dry mouth. “What do you say to something trickier?” Funnel Web was a glorious three-point-two kilometer black run, with a good mix of comfortable and challenging terrain.

  “Sure, let’s do it.”

  My anxiety had been controllable, but on the long lift ride up, it began to raise its hand again, demanding attention. Unconsciously, my hand moved to check my helmet. Catherine said something but I missed the actual words. I dropped my hand back to my lap. “Sorry, what was that? I was admiring the view.” It wasn’t a lie. The sun was casting long shadows everywhere. Soon everything would glow orange and pink, splashing pastel color over the snow. “This is the start of my favorite time of day,” I confessed.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty spectacular.” She looked over at me and I swear her voice was huskier. “I asked how many times you’ve skied this run.”

  After three years working here, plus various training courses, I’d skied every run at Thredbo more times than I could count. I knew them the way a person knows their own hands. “That’s like asking someone how many breaths they’ve taken in their life,” I said lightly, shuffling on the cold seat.

  Catherine laughed. “So you’re the best person to take me for my first time.”

  I let a slightly cocky smile answer for me. If I could keep it together, then yeah without a doubt I was the best person. Nearing the top, I started raising the lift bar. “Watch your arms.”

  I offered a wave to the Ski Patrol guys, tapping the tips of my skis in the snow to fidget out some nervous energy. We skied an easy green to get to the T-Bar lift, rode up then skied another easy green and blue across to the start of Funnel Web. Easy runs, nothing to stress about. Right. When I stopped to give her an overview, I was painfully aware of just how uncomfortable I felt. The wind was brutal on this part of the mountain, blowing stinging puffs of snow everywhere, and in the lengthening shadows of the trees it was chilly and uncomfortable.

  I hunched into my jacket, raising my voice over the wind. “We’ll run a little differently this time. Because this is a new one for you I’m going to go ahead so you can watch me, and we’ll ski it in sections. Wait until I’ve stopped before you come down, okay?”

  She nodded. “Sounds great.”

  The tightness built between my shoulders, trying to slide up and grab my neck. I gritted my teeth but the skittering came anyway and I shuddered.

  Catherine stared. “Cold?”

  “Yeah, this wind is cruddy,” I lied as my skin tightened and the hairs on my arms stood up to brush against my undershirt. This was a paying client and I needed to get my shit together. I patted myself down, found my gum and shoved a piece in my mouth. “The first section is trees and rocks with some tight fits between them. I’d recommend following my line as closely as you can.”

  “Will do.”

  “See you in a bit.” I pushed off, making my way carefully through the trees for a few minutes until I reached a spot where I could stop safely.

  Catherine was tight on my heels, and she pulled up close to my side with her elbow just brushing my arm. “Damn, that was fun,” she breathed. “Okay, I’m good. Let’s do this.”

  She’s good, she’s fine, we’re all fine. And we were, at least for the first ten minutes. Ski, stop, watch her ski down after me, talk with her and repeat. Catherine’s cheeks were pink and her smile was so broad that her cheeks were almost splitting. “This is amazing,” she said at every stop.

  Her excitement was contagious and I began to feel my own building alongside hers. “You’re looking great. Just watch that angle, you’re still overcompensating on your right turns and it’s going to tip you if you’re not careful.”

  “Mhmm.” She tapped her hip as though trying to will it to behave. “You’re a great teacher, Aspen.”

  I dipped my head to acknowledge the statement, and started back down the trail with her words spinning through my head. You’re a great teacher, Aspen… So you’re the best person to take me for my first time. Just as quickly, all the reasons why I wasn’t the best person came unbidden, and the memory was as sharp and as clear as the day it happened.

  The fear. Before, during, after. That brief moment of uncertainty, applying the brakes before the loss of traction, tumbling over and over, shooting through the air and landin
g so hard that my body broke. The sound, like a whip cracking or branch snapping. Sliding for an eternity. And the pain, everywhere, so sharp and so raw that all I could do was scream.

  A familiar churn in my stomach and tightness through my chest dragged me back to the present, the vise around my chest tightening until I couldn’t breathe. Skidding to a halt, I held up my arm to stop Catherine from coming down after me, and skied across the trail into a group of trees. I shoved my goggles up onto my helmet, leaned my forehead against the trunk of a snowgum and tried to take in a full lungful of crisp air.

  I raised trembling arms to rest on the bark, stretching my torso out as my gut roiled. Nothing came up. It never did. Cold sweat on my face and under my armpits chilled me through and I shuddered, a deep muscle tremor through my legs and torso. The unmistakable sound of someone skiing close cut over my noisy breathing. “Oh, shit. Are you okay?” Catherine sounded mildly panicked.

  “Yep, fine,” I said hoarsely, without lifting my head. “Sorry, just a little queasy. Think I ate something strange at lunch.”

  She came closer, resting a hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure?”

  Head still down, I raised a hand away from the tree. “Mhmm. Thanks. I’m so sorry about this. I’ll be fine in just a moment.”

  “Take your time, Aspen. I’m not in any hurry.” Carefully, she drew my head up and unfastened my helmet. She pulled it off and placed it in my hand, before smoothing damp hair from my forehead. My body felt liquid, shaking uncontrollably and I knew it would stay like that for a little while until the adrenaline let go. Catherine tugged her gloves off and ran her thumbs over my cheekbones. “Look at me.”

  I raised my eyes to hers. Her expression was so gentle and understanding that I wanted to hug her. She thumbed the moisture from under my eyes. “You’re okay. It’s okay.” Her hands moved down to unzip my jacket.

  I was still riding the aftermath of my panic and couldn’t even be shocked, or excited that she was undressing me. My small water bottle fell out and landed against her ski. Catherine bent to pick it up, offering it to me with one hand, her other on my shoulder to steady me. “Here, take a drink and get a little cold air on your body. It’ll help.”