It was a risk either way. I could get ten miles out of the gas I had left if the screen on my dash was correct, but I had no idea if ten miles would put me any closer to safety. If I just stayed in one spot, I would be able to last a lot longer, but I was gambling on someone finding me. I wished I had Google to tell me what to do instead of needing to rely on my own intuition because I was certain I shouldn’t be trusted to decide my fate in a life or death situation like the one I was in.
Nature seemed to make the decision for me as I realized exactly how tired I was. The adrenaline of the situation was starting to wear off and the coffee cup in my console had been empty for a very long time.
If I was going to be forced to walk, doing it in the daylight seemed like a lot better option than trying to do it in the dark, and I seemed to remember my friends saying we might get bad weather Friday night, but the rest of the weekend was supposed to be clear. If they were right, I would only have to battle melting snow and ice when morning came. I decided that I was there for the night, or until I was found, so I tried to make myself comfortable.
“I’ve slept in a car before.” I said aimlessly. “I’ll just bundle up.”
I felt fear rising inside of me as the gas gauge dropped and finally gave out. Once the engine stopped, the heat that was blowing out of my vents was sorely missed. I had no options after that. If I was going to survive until morning, I was going to have to do it in the cold.
The fog on my windows started to frost over even worse and it got really dark when the moon disappeared behind the clouds that seemed to come together and close the crack. My car didn’t do enough to insulate me from the sounds all around me without the engine running. I could hear the whirling wind whipping against the car and I could hear the trees shaking—creaking. I could even hear the distant howls of a wolf but thankfully it sounded far, far away.
I closed my eyes and tried to force sleep, but while I was tired and drained, I was also starting to get colder. I pulled my coat around me, and then stacked a couple of shirts on top of it. My face was still cold, so I pulled a couple of shirts up over my nose, letting my breath warm them enough to dull the chill.
I felt like a natural survivalist for a moment, somehow managing to improvise with the meager supplies I had to create a cocoon of warmth. I dug into my bag again for more clothes, stuffing them in the seat around me to provide more insulation. When I got to the bottom of the bag, I felt the bottle of wine I had packed as tribute for the communal alcohol pool we planned to drink our way through before the end of the weekend. I thought about it for a couple of minutes and then pulled the bottle out.
“I always get warm when I drink...” I muttered as I started to remove the seal around the top.
I didn’t have a corkscrew and my plan seemed to be for naught as I stared at the bottle, but then I got an idea based on a video I had seen someone post on their social media page. I dug in my purse for a pen and used the flat end to start pushing on the cork from the top. It took a little effort and caused most of my covers to get tossed around as I fought with it, but I was finally able to push the cork into the liquid below.
“Victory! Thank goodness something is going my way.” I stared at the cork with a bit of a smile forming on my chilled lips.
Once the cork was shoved through the top of the bottle, I was able to pour some wine into my coffee cup. It had a coffee taste at first, but the wine cut through it quickly. I wasn’t drinking it for the taste at that point. I hoped the wine would not only warm me up a little bit, but also make me tired enough to get some sleep. My stomach was rumbling a bit as well and I didn’t pack any snacks.
Down the hatch. Just drink it.
I stopped worrying after I finished off a couple of cups and felt like I could survive the night without any issues at all. The bulletproof feeling I often got after a few drinks came on quickly when the wine mixed with the emptiness of my stomach. The alcohol started to warm me up significantly after about an hour and I was feeling a lot better. The tips of my fingers were no longer cold to the touch and the blood was coursing through my extremities with ease once again. I still wasn’t tired, but I was feeling something else taking over—another urge that I often felt when I had a few drinks.
“You’re in the middle of nowhere, Heather...” I poured another cup and stared at the red liquid. “Why not?”
The seat was leaned back and the windows were frosted. A light layer of snow had already formed over the car. The fact nobody had come by so far suggested my future would involve walking towards civilization when the sun came up if I survived the night.
If I’m going to die, at least I can die happy.
I knew one way to easily raise my body temperature and my inhibitions were lifted thanks to the wine. I slid both hands under the bulk of clothes covering me and unbuttoned my jeans. I pushed them, along with my panties, down to the floorboard and started to move my finger in a circle around the outside edge of my clitoris. My legs got cold, but the pleasure made up for the momentary chill.
Damn, it has been a while.
Even though I had never experienced a vaginal orgasm, I was certainly no stranger to rubbing my clitoris until it hummed with pleasure. The safety of bringing myself to orgasm using my clitoris had been my go-to method of masturbation since I first discovered how great it felt. My pussy was still a bit of a mystery that I didn’t understand. I wasn’t even sure how to get the same sense of pleasure out of it. I tried to penetrate it a couple of times with my fingers, but I was afraid to push them too far in, especially when I put too much pressure on my hymen. Being a virgin at nineteen seemed to be a bit of an anomaly amongst my friends, but I wasn’t really interested in having sex with someone just to do it. I wanted to find the right guy and possibly even wait until marriage—I was flexible on that part. I rubbed my clitoris a little harder and moaned.
There we go.
My hips moved in a grinding motion as my finger swirled around the outside of my clit and the sensitive bundle of nerves started to get even more aroused. When it was fully exposed, I used some of the vaginal secretions from my excitement to get a smooth glide across the hard knot formed from the overwhelming feeling of bliss flowing through my whole body.
“Oh God...” I tightened my lips and felt a moan rising in my throat.
I had a few fantasies in my imagination that always got me excited and the scrolling list of men willing to make me cum spun faster in my head as I picked up the pace. One day I hoped to find the right man so I wouldn’t have to rely on my imagination for excitement. Until that time came, my mental images were all I had.
“Don’t stop.” I moaned again, a little louder—I had no reason to be quiet while my imaginary lover ravaged my body.
I imagined his kiss, his touch, and a hard cock that swelled because he wanted me. I spread my legs wider and felt a strong tingling sensation in my abdomen. It was like electricity centered in my clitoris, expanding through me as I got closer and closer. I moaned slightly, groaning with each passing second of pleasure. The pace got faster and I was practically abusing my clitoris, forcing as much pleasure as I could out the moment.
“Harder.” I drew a panted breath that was coupled with a groan. “Make me cum!”
I bit down on my lip and kept going, pressing my hips upwards and then letting them sink down as I recoiled with the lust of my own touch. It didn’t take long for the feeling to overwhelm me and I knew I was at the point of no return. I held onto that moment, clinging to every bit of elation before the intoxication of titillation wore off—it came quicker than I would have liked. My orgasm was powerful, causing my vaginal walls to spasm slightly. I kept encircling my clitoris even as the orgasm started, trying to keep it going as long as possible. My whole body surged with pleasure as the feeling engulfed me. I kept my finger moving until it was so sensitive I couldn’t even stand to touch it.
“Wow...” The afterglow of my orgasm held me in the cradle of tranquility for a moment.
I think a performance that good deserves a cigarette.
I rarely smoked, but when I had a few drinks with friends, I usually ended up asking them for one. The first pack I had ever purchased with my own money was in my purse because I didn’t want to be a leech the whole weekend.
I tore the plastic that surrounded the pack and flipped open the box. The smell of tobacco made my stomach curl a little bit, but I knew I wouldn’t care once it was lit and I felt the first hit of nicotine. I pulled a cigarette out of the pack and lit it, feeling warm all over. After a few drags, the car was filled with smoke and began to rethink the decision. I couldn’t crack a window which meant all my stuff would smell like smoke and the limited air supply I did have would be recycled nicotine for the rest of the night. I hated the smell of stale smoke, especially when it started to build in a circle around my face. I let it burn for a couple more puffs and then put it out in the bottom of my coffee cup, quickly covering it with the lid so the smell would be suffocated.
That was disgusting.
I was finally tired, to the point that I couldn’t keep my eyes open if I tried. The wine mixed with my orgasm had made me quite toasty, to the point I didn’t even care that I could see my breath if my lips weren’t covered. Sleep was coming for me so I closed my eyes and prayed for a miracle when the sun came up—if I could sleep that long. I pulled my coat and my extra clothes close as I snuggled in for what I expected to be a difficult night of sleep. The light buzz of nicotine wasn’t enough to overpower the fatigue I was feeling from head to toe.
Dear God, if you’re out there—please don’t let me die. I promise to go to church, read the Bible, sing hymns, whatever you want—just get me out of this alive.
Chapter 2: Shane
Earlier that day
After six years of living alone in the mountains, preparing for a snowstorm was second nature. When the weather said we were going to get hit by some snow and a little ice, I headed to the closest town so I could stock up. Kerosene for the generator was the main concern so all the food I had stored wouldn’t go to waste if I lost power, and then a little bit of inebriation to pass the time. I usually went for a bottle of whiskey and a few overpriced cigars.
The whiskey could be shit, but I would add a zero to the purchase for good hand-rolled tobacco. The impending storm would require a little distraction and I felt like I deserved it since I was celebrating another year in the middle of nowhere with nothing to worry about but my own survival. The weatherman on television said the coming storm was nothing to be afraid of, but I knew he was talking out of his ass. I could smell it in the air.
The fancy electronics they used to predict the weather had nothing on good old-fashioned experience and I knew we were looking at a rough few days—that would be the best-case scenario. If I didn’t trust my own judgment, the fact that the locals were busy clearing out the shelves was proof enough. I was overly cautious sometimes, but when the poorest residents on the mountain were grabbing premium bread because the generic brand was sold out, it was cause for concern. I had no reason to panic, I just simply got the stuff I needed and loaded them into my truck. Everyone was nice even enough, even if their accents were as Tennessee as they could be.
“Only one bottle?” Mr. Blanchard stared at the bottle of whiskey on the counter in front of him and then lifted his eyes to meet mine.
“Do you think I should go for two?” His stare was less than subtle, so I made the decision in my mind before he confirmed it.
“I would go for three—of the big bottles.” He pointed at the rack of whiskey and moved his finger towards the largest one they had. “I got those cigars you wanted as well.”
“I appreciate that. Thank you, Mr. Blanchard.” I picked up the bottle on the counter and walked back to the display. I traded it for the larger bottle and gathered three more in my arms.
My total flashed across the screen and I handed him some cash. I trusted Mr. Blanchard more than I trusted most folks. He wasn’t the type to push sales on anyone, so if he said I needed three, I probably needed four. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck in a snowstorm without booze. It wasn’t like I had anything else to entertain myself with.
Fuck that.
I finished loading my truck with the things I needed to survive and partially enjoy the damn storm. I looked around the sleepy town, bustling with more activity than I normally saw there when it wasn’t tourist season. I was ready to go home and crack open a bottle of whiskey, but I was hungry. I decided to walk across the street to the local diner for a late lunch. Even with all the activity in the town, it didn’t seem like anyone was eating there. I walked inside and surveyed the empty room. It didn’t take long for Mrs. Eaton to appear around the corner and wave for me to take a seat.
“Shane! It’s so good to see you. Let me get you a glass of sweet tea.” She smiled and then rushed over to the fridge.
“Thank you, Mrs. Eaton. Are you all set for the storm?” I sat down at one of the chairs in front of the long bar which was adorned with glass covered cylinders filled with cakes and pies.
“Yeah, Hank has boarded up the windows and fired up the generator. I’ll be heading home when the first flake starts falling.” She poured a glass of sweet tea and pushed it over to me. They had the best sweet tea I had ever tasted and I had no idea how the people who drank it every day weren’t already diabetic.
“Are you two going to make a snow baby?” I grinned at her and winked.
“Oh my.” She giggled and her tired wrinkly face started to blush. “I won’t be making any more babies, but I told Hank to refill his Viagra.”
“He’s a lucky man.” I sipped the sweet tea again.
“You just got yourself a free slice of pie. Keep those compliments coming and you might even get free refills.” She picked up a menu and leaned over the bar.
“If I keep it up, I might have to steal you away and take you home with me for the storm.” I took the menu from her.
“You need to come around here more, Shane. Everyone in town is so...into Jesus.” A cackle rose up in her throat and shook her head.
“I’m not really friends with him, so I don’t have to watch what I say.” I pointed at the Country Fried Steak. “You know what I want.”
“Yep, it’s always the same. Extra gravy and mashed potatoes?” It was rhetorical since I hadn’t changed my order once since I started coming in there.
“Yes ma’am.” I nodded.
Country Fried Steak covered in her delicious gravy was one of my favorite meals. I had enough food on my shelves and in my freezer to last the entire winter, but my sweet tea was terrible and my gravy was barely more than liquid slop. Since I couldn’t make those, it was nothing more than a waste of time to sludge through the ordeal of making Country Fried Steak. Normally I just threw a piece of meat on the grill and ate it with fresh vegetables from the garden—during the winter, I just ate the extra stuff I had canned.
It took a while for Mrs. Eaton to get everything prepared since Hank wasn’t there to help her, but it was amazing when she finally did get it finished. Adding the pie on top of the sweet tea was an overdose of sugar, but I couldn’t turn it down since it was free.
“You stay warm.” I dropped some cash, along with a tip that was almost double the cost of my meal next to my plate. “Tell Hank I’m coming for you if he doesn’t treat you right.”
“He’ll probably tell me to pack my shit.” She laughed as she picked up my plate. “You still haven’t kidnapped a hiker or clubbed a tourist so you have someone to keep you warm?”
“Not yet, but tourist season will be here soon.” I winked at her and walked out of the restaurant.
With my belly fuller than it had been in a long time, I climbed back into my truck and set out for the edge of town and the long stretch of road that led up the mountain to my cabin with one thing on my mind...
Time to drink my way through this fucking storm.
I LOVED HAVING A CABIN that was out of the way and tucked into t
he mountains, but close enough to get back and forth to town when the situation called for it. I pressed on the gas and let my hand rest on the wheel. It was getting colder, but it would be a few hours before the snow started to fall. I looked ahead and saw a red sedan driving well below the speed limit in the slow lane. I wasn’t in the mood to go slow, so I hit the accelerator and pulled into the passing lane. I saw a glimpse of blonde hair hanging around a gorgeous face.
“Oh, what do we have here?” I looked to my right as I accelerated and narrowed my eyes to get a better look at her.
It was rare to see a young, beautiful girl in Wolf Creek, so I couldn’t help but take notice. Wolf Creek was a dying community and most of the younger people had moved away. Even with a few years of my thirties behind me, I was still one of the youngest residents. They had welcomed me, mostly because I flirted with the older women and made their husbands jealous. They knew I wasn’t serious, and I’m sure I caused a few of the men to get some enthusiastic sex after I complimented their women. Hank might even need two pills when Mrs. Blanchard got home.
There was enough tourism to keep the retirees afloat, especially in the winter months. I assumed the blonde goddess struggling with her electronic devices was on vacation. I could tell by the frustration on her face that she was not getting what she wanted out of them. It was early in the year for tourism since we hadn’t received even a hint of snow, but based on her age, it made sense.
Keep it up, princess. Frustration looks great on you.
Wolf Creek didn’t exactly have the best reception for modern technology. Cell phones were less popular than land lines and the towers were pretty far away. It was like driving into a technological black hole for most people. The sheriff usually stayed busy during the vacation months, helping those that got lost on the way to their destination because they couldn’t read a fucking map.
I knew the mountains like the back of my hand, along with every back road and well-worn trail. I let my truck keep the same speed as her sedan for several miles, but she never looked over. She was entranced by her devices, which clearly weren’t working. All of her flailing was enough for me to get a damn good view of her and I sure as fuck liked what I saw. It was a shame I couldn’t just run her off the road and kidnap her like Mrs. Blanchard jokingly suggested.
Small Town Seven: Reverse Harem Romance Page 12