Ghost Rider Pt. 04

See Pt. 1 for blurb. Also, if you haven't already read Pts. 1-3, I strongly recommend doing so before proceeding. All on-page sensuality takes place between characters who are eighteen or older.

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

Twenty-Nine

"That's... um... a lot of cars," Petra whispered worriedly as the S-Mart parking lot hove into view. "Do you think all those people are inside?"

David replied, "I'd be surprised if they weren't. Potential natural disasters tend to bring out the hoarder in people who typically never have cause to plan ahead."

"Do you think there will be anything left inside?"

"Let's hope so. I think I see a few parking spots together over by the garden center."

Petra squeezed the van into the indicated spaces with minimal fuss while David crawled through to the living quarters to prep Emmy for a quick walk. He noticed the moment he stepped outside that the temperature had gone from 'brisk' to 'bitterly cold' in the hour it had taken them to drive to the outskirts of Cheyenne. A point that was exacerbated when Petra followed him out of the van moments later.

She gasped, "Fragging shaz it's cold!"

"If you raise up the bed, there's a coat under there. And there should be some gloves and a scarf as well."

"What about you?"

"Just toss me an extra hoodie and I'll be all right. Did you get the locks worked out so that we can leave the engine running for Emmy?"

She dimpled and replied, "Of course."

"I should have known."

Emmy showed no interest in staying outside any longer than necessary, and had burrowed into her bed beneath the desk before Petra finished dressing herself. As they crossed the massive, and full-to-overflowing, parking lot, David saw not a few flurries falling, and he had little doubt that the temperature had already dropped below freezing.

Inside the store, they encountered Black Friday levels of pandemonium; with arguments breaking out amongst shoppers all around them and store staff that looked to be nearing the breaking point. David managed to snag one of the few remaining carts. But, as he tried to pass it off to Petra so he could attend to his half of their carefully curated list, she pulled him close to whisper in his ear.

"I know we had a plan, and we need to move as quickly as possible. But please don't leave me alone in here."

"Is everything ok?"

"There's just... so many people. Please, David, don't make me..."

"I'll never make you do anything, Petra. Ever. It's fine. We'll just stick together. It's probably better this way in any case. You know... two pairs of eyes to look for what we need, and all that."

"Liar," she murmured as she came in for a quick kiss before whispering against his ear, "Thank you, David."

"Always. You ok to start with food? I think that's what most people here are buying up."

She took a deep breath and replied, "Let's do it."

They navigated around the chaos surrounding them and made a beeline for the grocery portion of the store. There they found sparsely populated shelves that reminded David strongly of the spring of 2020. They did, however, manage to grab a respectable amount of shelf-stable food. It occurred to him that his limited palate actually worked in their favor, as the hoarders who had mostly emptied the shelves focused on rich, flavorful food loaded with salt, spice, and preservatives. This left a smattering of less sexy options like plain rice and pasta, but that suited the couple just fine. To this they added plenty of canned vegetables and evaporated milk.

"Well, would you look at that," Petra whispered in amazement as they turned onto the paper goods aisle to find the shelves completely barren. "I read about how insane people went about toilet paper in this time, but... wow."

"It's really something," David concurred. "The news says you might be stuck at home for a few days, so everyone decides they need enough toilet paper to last a dysentery patient a month."

"Gross. But... what should we do? I don't think we have an overabundance."

"Let's table that until we can attend to the rest of our list."

The bread aisle had similarly been picked clean, but the couple managed to find a few packages of flour tortillas as they progressed toward the store's rear. The supplies of fresh meat (if indeed it could be called that) had dwindled down to those items which the store should have already discarded based on the sell-by date, so David led them to the freezer case where they found a healthy selection of poultry and fish.

Petra asked, "Why didn't this get picked over by the vultures?"

"Because people know the power might go out, and it doesn't occur to them that they can just stick this stuff outside in the snow if their freezer isn't working. What else is on our list?"

Without consulting the shared document he had prepared online during their drive, she replied, "Eggs. Coffee. Stuff to make salad. Food for Emmy."

They struck out on the eggs and salad, but managed to find the rest. They made another pass through the freezer aisle to add some more vegetables, leaving David confident that they had enough food to last them at least a week.

Leaving the grocery section behind them, David navigated toward the pharmacy where they managed to find a few packages of flushable wipes to supplement their dwindling supply of toilet paper. This also put them adjacent to an aisle which prompted a question he realized at once should have been addressed much earlier.

He gestured toward the feminine products and asked, "Do you, um, need, uh, any of, um, that?"

"David," she teased as she pulled him close, "you had your fingers in my quim this morning. You needn't be shy about admitting that I have one."

"Well... not in it. More on it."

"I saw a restroom back there. Shall we go correct that oversight?"

"I appreciate the offer, but I think we should keep our eyes on the prize."

"And, in this case, the prize is something other than your magnificent prick burying itself in my warm, wet quim?"

"Jesus, Petra. You're killing me over here."

"I certainly hope not," she yelped in mock horror. Then, after playfully watching him for a few heartbeats, she relented and said, "As for the items you suggested, I don't really have much use for them. Shortly after I got married, I knew I had to do something to keep my husband off the Inquisitors' radar when we continued to be childless. After rejecting several options as being either ineffective, or likely to kill me, I realized that the only way to achieve my goal was to exhaust my fertility as quickly as possible. So I found a drug which caused my body to massively increase the amount of eggs which were released each month. Ironically, the medicine was originally developed in Europe to help boost fertility in the hopes that it would offset their rapidly declining birth rate. For me, however, it meant absolutely brutal flows until I hit menopause a year-and-a-half later. Ever since then, I haven't needed for any of that stuff. A good thing too, since what passes for feminine-hygiene products in the twenty-second century is barely a step above shoving a bunch of leaves in your bloomers and hoping for the best."

"Fucking hell!"

She was quiet for a moment before asking softly, "Is that ok?"

"No, it's not ok," he responded angrily. "I fragging hate all that shaz you went through."

"I meant," she continued in the same mousey voice, "are you disappointed that your girlfriend is barren?"

He turned to give her his full attention before declaring, "Absolutely not. I care about you, Petra. And Emmy. But you first and foremost. And you're perfect just the way you are."

"I promise not to tell Emmy," she murmured with a smile.

He started the trek toward the checkout as he answered, "I honestly never considered the question of children. The truth is that it seemed pretty preposterous for a thirty-year-old virgin to even form an opinion along those lines. So, you're absolutely not interfering with any kind of life goal of mine."

"But what if you change your mind? What if you decide your life won't be complete until you hold your own child in your arms, or until you experience that primal sensation of impregnating a woman?"

"My father used to frequently harp on me for my endless 'what about' questions. In part, it cured me of what he called my obnoxiousness, but it also trained me to take life as it comes, rather than trying to imagine the infinite what ifs."

"I'm confused... are you saying that I'm acting like your father?"

"Not at all. You in fact could not be less like him. What I'm saying is that what I want is you, Petra. For as long as you'll have me. And if, at some point in the future, we decide we want children, then we'll figure out a way to make that happen together. Ok?"

"You really mean it?" she asked with tear-laden eyes.

He wrapped his arm around her to pull her close and whispered, "With all my heart, angel."

"I..." she began, but he cut her off to excitedly declare, "Holy shit! We didn't buy any clothes for you!"

"Huh?"

"Warm weather clothing. I don't mind you wearing mine, but ideally we'd both have..."

"Right! Of course. So, um, where to?"

The selection on offer in the women's clothing area was not quite as sparse as what they had experienced on the bread aisle, but it was close. However, by setting aside all thoughts of style (and any anxiety over cost) they were able to assemble enough clothing to keep Petra warm if she was forced to go outside during the coming storm. This exercise prompted David's companion to lead them back to the pet section to find something for the short-haired seeker of headpats waiting in the van. This effort seemed initially doomed to failure, as the 'dog sweater' section looked like a bomb had hit it, but Petra managed to find something in a clearance bin which she was certain would suffice.

When they returned to the checkout, and waited their turn with a good deal more patience than many of their fellow shoppers displayed, David started mentally cataloging their purchases, and comparing it to the dozens of additional unforeseen expenses which had coincided with Petra's arrival. The conclusion he reached was not a pleasant one, and a quick check of his banking app agreed that his cash reserves were very nearly depleted. He spared a brief thought to give backhanded thanks to his father, who had instilled in him a crippling fear of debt which had caused him to live his entire adult life without applying for a credit card. Before he knew it, the digits on the register started ticking toward the upper register of triple digits, and he felt the icy hand of failure wrapping around his neck.

His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by Petra asking, "What's wrong?"

"I can't pay for this."

"I thought you still had several thousand..."

"We spent it getting the van painted, and at the vet. I've only got a few hundred left."

"Then we skip all those clothes you bought for me."

"No," he declared with quiet intensity. "If anything, we skip the food. There's plenty for you to eat already in the van."

"I'm not going to let you go back to starving yourself!"

"We don't have any other choice."

"Yes," she snapped quietly, "we do."

She took out her phone and tapped furiously on it for nearly a minute before his phone dinged in his hand. He looked down to find a notification informing him that Petra had sent him sixty-one hundred dollars, and thirty-seven cents.

"Petra," he complained, "that money is yours. How else are you ever going to..."

"That money is ours until you decide there is no longer an us," she countered primly. "Ok?"

"But..."

"Can we please argue about this later? We're holding up the line."

His shoulders slumped and he huffed, "Fine."

"Will there be anything else?" the harried clerk asked.

"I don't suppose you have any propane left?"

The clerk consulted his screen for a moment before replying. "Looks like we've got a few left, but there's a one tank limit."

"I'll take it. No deposit."

"Ok. The total comes to... thirteen-twelve-eleven. Hey, would you look at that!"

"That's something, all right," David grumbled as he tapped his debit card.

By the time they got outside, and managed to extract the propane cylinder from its automated holding cell, the snow on the parking lot was deep enough to swallow a baseball. They crossed the expanse of tarmac cautiously, and managed to reach their destination without falling victim to the ice forming on the pavement beneath the snow.

They eschewed a careful stowing of their supplies, opting instead to open the door and toss everything onto the bed. Petra took Emmy out again while David lashed the spare propane tank to the winch on the front bumper (since the designated storage area for steel-encased hydrocarbons was already at capacity). He knew such a move was both ill-advised and likely illegal, but the only alternative was storing it inside (a strategy he considered to be far more reckless than his chosen course of action).

He was grateful that Petra had suggested topping off the diesel tanks before hitting the S-Mart, as he struggled to find a single business open as he drove through the increasingly treacherous streets. While he focused on steering clear of drivers who had more confidence in their driving skills than sense, his beguiling companion searched in vain for a suitable hotel room, but there was nothing available.

The wind outside started to pick up as the paltry sunlight which pierced the clouds faded into a memory, and he could feel the van buffeting every time they pulled through an open intersection with a northbound street. Making matters worse, he could feel the dual-axle rear tires beginning to struggle for grip in the accumulating snow.

David hissed in frustration when he regained control after driving over a patch of ice. "We've got to get out of this shit before we get stuck out in the open."

"The storm is coming in from the northwest," Petra reported calmly. "In theory, if we can shield ourselves from the wind, the heater won't have to work as hard."

"You know what," he replied with a conspiratorial tone, "everything is already mostly closed for the duration. I'm sure it would be frowned on, but I don't think anyone will pitch a fit if we pull up alongside one of these retail buildings to get out of the wind."

"If you pull off on the south side of the street, we could get out of the wind and stay out of sight of the road at the same time. How about that pharmacy up ahead? It's significantly taller than the van, and wide enough that we could park right in the middle of the lee side. We probably wouldn't even notice the wind."

"Good idea," he replied appreciatively. "I sure am grateful that I thought to bring along a gorgeous genius when I allowed us to get stuck in an early season blizzard."

With a firm tone that nonetheless had a warmth which charmed his soul, she declared, "You didn't allow anything, David. What you did was to make sure that your woman, and your faithful canine, were taken care of, even in the face of a freak storm. Because you always take care of us, because you're amazing. And there is literally no where, and no when, that I would rather be than stuck in a blizzard with you, David Shyam."

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

Thirty

"Isn't it beautiful, David!" Petra enthused as she picked up a double-handful of snow and threw it into the air.

He finished ushering Emmy back inside the van before replying dispiritedly. "Yeah. I guess you could say that."

"Come on," she teased. "Live a little."

He spared a moment to look around their makeshift campsite in the lee of a retail pharmacy which was associated with a mid-sized regional chain. Their van was dwarfed by the wall it was parked against, which created a surreal effect when one considered their surroundings. Above them, and on both sides of the building, snow-laden wind roared at highway speeds, but standing beside the van the air was still. This had the effect of placing them inside a snow globe. Despite the building's protection, powdery accumulation had built up enough that he could not see the tops of his shoes as he half-heartedly followed his exuberant girlfriend around the rear of the store.

The latest forecast information suggested that the temperature would continue to drop until, at the earliest, late the following morning. By that time, it was predicted that there would be enough snow on the ground to make opening the main door to the van a dodgy proposition. He held out hope that, no matter how much accumulation the blizzard dropped on them, he would at the very least be able to exit via the driver's side window (which was less than an arm's length from the protecting wall).

His mounting concerns over riding out a blizzard in a camper van were interrupted by a dull thud against his back. He turned questioningly to find Petra looking warily in his direction with snow covered gloves. His impulse to react to what had happened to him was temporarily interrupted by her objectively ridiculous outfit. He was overjoyed that she was warm, because it was a constant effort to keep from bursting out laughing as he beheld the mixture of Rastafarian-themed snow pants, boots which had so much faux-fur that they made her look like a show-ready French poodle, a neon-purple puffy jacket that doubled her circumference, dark-red snow gloves which were so bedazzled that they looked like she had stolen them from a biker gang, and a bright pink knit hat with two dangling poofs the size of tennis balls.

Once he was certain he had control of his features, he asked, "Did you... throw a snowball at me?"

"Maybe," she replied with a coquettish grin.

"Why?"

"Because I've never seen snow before, you ninny!"

"But I thought you said you lived in northern Kansas. I thought it snowed there all the time."

"Maybe now, but not after the current global warming trend continues for another eight decades. In the twenty-second century, snowfall is basically unheard of below the fortieth parallel. At least on this continent. So fragging let me enjoy this! Ok?"

He smiled as he approached her, and his soul rejoiced when she pulled him in for an unhurried kiss.

As their lips parted, he whispered, "Sorry. I'm trying not to freak out. It's just... I've always prided myself on keeping an eye on the weather so I could avoid shit like this."

"Your van is amazing, David. The main batteries are at eighty-six percent, quite a feat when it's been cloudy all day."

"I assume you're aware that if you patented whatever you did to the solar array controller, you'd be a millionaire?"

"Perhaps, but that's a conversation for another day. In addition to the batteries, we've got three topped off tanks of propane and a shaz-load of diesel. Between those two, we can continue to recharge the batteries for at least a week. And that's with everything turned on."

"I'm still worried that the heat pump won't be able to keep up as the temperature continues to drop."

"Worse comes to worse, we fire up the main power plant for one out of every four hours to generate extra heat. It'll be a pain in the hiney, but we won't freeze." She paused for a moment before adding, "Besides, is it really such a bad thing if we have to snuggle up together beneath a mound of blankets to keep each other warm?"

"What about Emmy?"

"She's got her P. J.'s, and you have a few throw blankets we can cover her with. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but she's a bit of a burrower. We're going to be fine."

He offered her a crooked grin and muttered, "Sorry for raining on your parade."

"It's ok," she sighed.

"It isn't. This is your first snowfall, and I'll never forgive myself for not snapping a picture to capture the look on your face for posterity before I killed the mood. Tell you what... how about you make the biggest snowball imaginable, and just let me have it." He backed up and lifted his arms up as though he was being prepared for crucifixion. "I'll even promise not to duck."

He watched with a growing smile as she carefully constructed a snowball the size of a cantaloupe, taking care to keep it light and fluffy as she added more girth. When she finally decided it was the perfect size, she stood and reared back before taking careful aim. She even picked up a clump of snow to scatter it like a sniper checking the wind.

"The anticipation is killing me, angel," David observed with a cheeky smile.

She started to approach him without lowering the snowball. As she closed the distance between them, her smile grew until she was within arm's reach.

"I could never do anything to hurt you, David," she whispered just before she gently smooshed the snowball against his mouth.

Before he could react to her unconventional attack, she caused the distance between them to disappear and claimed his lips through the fluffy snow still falling from his face. The icy cold separating them was quickly melted by the growing heat of their kiss. Her hands gripped his head with fervent need, providing welcome guidance to heighten their passion. The sensation of her tongue slicking against his teased a primal moan from his chest.

"David!" Petra breathed against his ear after relinquishing his lips. "I don't want to wait anymore!"

"You mean..."

She nodded firmly and declared, "The time has come for us to do sex!"

"Huh?" he asked with palpable confusion at her word choice.

"My quickened, quivering quim needs to be pierced, plowed, and pummeled by your powerfully potent prick."

"Honey... are you ok?"

"I need you to claim my maidenhead, you fragging ninny. To take my virginity... to finally make me a woman."

"What is happening?" he whispered helplessly.

Her gleeful teasing expression faded into one of serene happiness. With quiet confidence, she said, "I want to make love to you, David."

The anxiety that had risen within him in response to her teasing would have shocked him if he had as much as a single neuron which was not fully occupied by her enticing confession. Moving on pure instinct, he dipped his head to share an unhurried kiss with the woman he loved. Time seemed to slow as they shared a tender moment in the middle of a freak early-season blizzard that quickly faded from their awareness.

She tried to pull him toward the van without interrupting their kiss, but the uneven footing had other thoughts and he only narrowly managed to prevent her from tumbling backward into the snow when they encountered a drift.

"Careful angel," he whispered against her cheek.

"I'm in your arms, David. I couldn't possibly be safer."

"Well, I sure like the sound of that."

"Come on, handsome. Let's go do some sex."

"You're killing me, Petra."

"You know you love it."

"I can think of quite a few things I love."

He heard her breath hitch before she whispered, "Me too."

They stood staring happily at each other until a crash interrupted their reverie. He looked around to see the door to the nearby dumpster enclosure rebounding after the wind had slammed it against the adjacent brick wall.

"We'd best get inside," he observed with a smirk.

"Promise we'll come out later and build a snowman?" she asked hopefully.

"For you... anything."

"Yay!" she enthused before turning to open the main door to the van.

The interior of the van felt like a furnace after an extended time spent in a worsening blizzard, and both companions hastened to shed their cold weather clothing. This left them wanting for space, as their warm-weather clothing covered, as near as makes no difference, all of the carpet in the bedroom, and the bed was still mounded with their non-perishable purchases from the S-Mart.

"Is this what your project manager meant by technical debt?" Petra asked playfully.

He snickered and replied, "After a fashion."

"Any thoughts on where we can stow everything, oh wise sage of the open road?"

"Can you spread the cold weather stuff out up on the bridge, and I'll see if I can squeeze all these non-perishables into the pantry. For the rest of your warm weather clothing, I can make room in the closet by pulling my stuff out and stashing it behind the recliner."

"Why would I let you pull your stuff out of your closet to put my stuff in your closet?"

"Because you make me happy?" he asked with a goofy grin on his face.

"You make me happy too, David. I suggest, however, that we table this conversation until later. For now, we can just toss all the clothing in the recliner. Ok?"

He nodded his agreement and got to work cramming the food into the pantry. By the time he was done, the bed was clear and Petra was busy pouring some kibble into Emmy's bowl. He spared a worried glance at the control panel, which indicated that batteries were discharging at a little over fifteen percent an hour. A peek at the exterior thermostat indicated that temperatures were already below the freezing point of water, and the plunge was showing no signs of stopping. He did not doubt Petra's assertion that they had multiple options for ensuring that they kept warm (or, if not warm, then at least not dangerously cold), but that did not keep his mind from imagining all manner of calamities.

"We're going to be fine, David," Petra chided softly from behind him. "Please stop worrying."

"I've got precious cargo on board. I can't help it."

"Perhaps then we could come up with a way to distract you from the storm."

"Oh?" he asked playfully.

"David Shyam!" she huffed theatrically, "do you want to frag my quim, or don't you?"

He hated the impulse inside him that prompted him to ask, "What about our grooming plan?"

She sighed wearily and huffed, "If you insist."

Finally getting control of his traitorous mouth, he took a step to close the distance between them and murmured, "My apologies, Petra. What I meant to say is that, while I'm honored beyond words by your captivating invitation to frag your lovely quim, what my heart truly desires is to make love to the woman I... well... love?"

"Oh, David," she gushed as she leapt into his arms.

Their kiss began absent conscious action from either lover; it was instead a moral imperative. He felt the echoes of his declaration coming off the woman in his arms in waves, washing over him with a force which would have obliterated him were he foolish enough to resist it. As it stood, the affection radiating from the inconceivable treasure from the future infused his soul, energized his body, and left his mind possessed by a desperate need to do whatever it took to guarantee her happiness.

Their kiss was interrupted as she yelped into his lungs, "... love you too!" Before he could react to the novel sensation of having a lover fill his lungs with her breath of life, she tugged him toward the bed, saying, "Come on!"

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

Thirty-One

She started working at the belt of his trousers while somehow wordlessly conveying her expectation (and her hope) that he would undress her just as frantically. The clothing they had worn beneath the cold-weather gear amounted to little more than pajamas, so it was mere moments before they stood nude facing each other.

He allowed his eyes to drink in her body. As he did so, he realized that, despite her proclivity for being nude in his presence (and indeed their escalating intimacy which had led them to multiple moments of shared pleasure over the preceding forty-eight hours) he had rarely allowed himself the genuine treasure of just gazing upon her perfection. Her pale skin seemed to shimmer in the soft overhead lighting of the van, an effect which was heightened as she reached around her lusciously succulent ass to remove the tie which held her braid in place so she could alluringly shake out her thick, white-blonde hair to allow it to cascade over her full, bountiful breasts capped by pale, silver-dollar-sized areolae which surrounded dainty, turgid nipples, past the adorable pooch of her supple belly, along the graceful swell of her rounded hips, and terminating at the alluring V of similarly shaded curls at the apex of her thighs. He reached forward to part the curtain of hair with both hands, prompting her to look up at him with excitement in her eyes.

She pulled a lock of her hair up to tease along the blade of his ear and asked, "Are you sure you don't want me to shave my head?"

"Fuck no," he grunted reflexively. "I mean... if you want to..."

"Don't worry, handsome," she murmured with a wide smile.

"I know long hair is a pain in the ass. If you want to get rid of it, please don't hold back on my account."

"The effort to care for that which you love is the least I could do for the man I love."

"You... love me?"

Her eyes grew somber as she nodded and whispered, "I will never lie to you, David. Ever."

They shared another unhurried kiss. As their lips parted, however, he was struck by something which felt akin to panic. He knew that he loved Petra as much as he had ever, could ever, love anyone. And he knew that he wanted to, needed to, make love to her. Yet his disquiet continued to rise until his beloved gave voice to his thoughts.

"So... how do we... you know... start?"

He offered her a lopsided grin and said, "I was hoping you knew."

"You're the one who's watched all the pornography."

"Well... I thought you said you read a bunch of erotica. That's probably a much better blueprint to follow."

She shook her head and retorted, "Too many of the sex scenes in erotica only last a couple hundred words."

Almost to himself, he muttered, "I hope I can even last that long."

"What was that?"

"It's just... losing my virginity an entire generation after I should have, to the most beautiful woman in the world, is not exactly a recipe for a... you know... lengthy..."

"All that matters is us, David. How we feel about each other. Not whether either of us reaches the fruit... orgasms. I love you, and I desperately want to make love to you. That's so much more important to me than something as pedestrian as getting off."

"But I want you to get off."

She approached until he could feel the pebbled buds just below the swell of her breasts tickling his chest, and the head of his cock nestled in her recently trimmed curls. "I really don't think that'll be a problem, handsome."

"Well... since you asked about... you know... porn... do you mind if we try something?"

She smiled at him in a way which made his breath catch in his chest and whispered, "I trust you."

Without a word, he led her to the bed and bade her lie down. She fell back onto the mattress and fanned her hair out such that it effectively covered half the bed. The inviting smile she offered him made his breath catch in his chest, but his heart nearly stopped as her thighs fell open to reveal her carefully trimmed bush and the pale blonde stubble which covered her labia.

"I'm ready, David," she sighed in contentment. "I am so fragging ready."

Her gleeful anticipation was interrupted when he dropped to his knees by the side of the bed.

"What are you doing?" she asked with a tremor in her voice.

He paused with his mouth a handsbreadth from her waiting sex and asked, "Oh, is this not ok?"

"While the thought of your lips on my quim fills me with more excitement than I can possibly convey," she began breathily, "I don't think I can wait any longer for you to make love to me, baby. Please, David."

David had no idea how she managed to quell his anxieties and ease his fears with a look, but when he gazed up at her angelic face, all he felt was the warm embrace of her love. He rose without a word and climbed between her thighs to claim her lips. Their kiss bypassed lust in a single heartbeat, and left passion in its wake the next, to arrive at a depth of connection which he would have thought impossible just one week earlier. He felt the molten slickness beckoning him, and his hips jolted of their own accord in response.

Without relinquishing his lips, Petra reached between them to cradle his manhood in her soft hand so she could align him with her entrance. He pulled back by the tiniest of margins to seek final consent, only to find her nodding emphatically as she panted in anticipation.

"Oh... yes... like that... ooh!" Petra breathed as his tip found her entrance and she welcomed him into her body.

"So warm," he whispered as he sank slowly into her waiting heat, only to be echoed by her sighed, "So big."

He stilled, and even started to pull back as he asked, "Are you ok?"

"Yes," she gushed as she gazed up at him with love and affection. "Keep going."

The sensation which radiated out from where they were joined threatened to overwhelm not only his body, but his entire consciousness.

"Holy shit, Petra," he gasped. "You're so fucking tight!"

"Just a little slower," she hissed.

"You're sure I'm not hurting you?"

"No!" she replied quickly. "I mean... yes, I'm sure. It's wonderful... everything I ever dreamed it would be. You're just... big."

"Should I get some..." he began, but she silenced him with an unhurried kiss.

"David?" she asked gently when their lips parted.

"Yeah?"

"I need you to stop worrying about hurting me."

"But you're in pain."

"And I need you to stop obsessing over whether I have an orgasm, or if you're doing everything perfectly."

"Petra," he sighed in resignation.

She interrupted his defeat-spiral with another kiss before commanding, "How does it feel to finally have your prodigious prick in my quivering quim? Well... half of it anyway."

"It feels amazing! Beyond incredible."

"And how does it feel to be making love to a woman who is madly in love with you?"

"It feels... I can't describe it. Right. Perfect."

"You don't have to describe it, because I'm living it. I love you, David. And I know you love me. So, please, stop trying to be the lover you think I deserve, and just be you. Because you are the man I want, that I've always wanted. Stop worrying about what could go wrong, and listen to your heart. Please, my love."

He answered her by way of a kiss into which he poured every iota of love and affection which was overflowing his soul. Her ecstatic moan filled his lungs, and he would have been content to let go of all feeling related to his penis had the undeniably, existentially exquisite sensation of joining with the woman he loved not made such a proposition completely impossible.

David allowed Petra to dictate the pace of their joining, not out of continued fear of hurting her, but because he had finally managed to silence all the voices in his head outside of the one which was perfectly in sync with his angelic lover. He neither knew nor cared whether it took ten seconds to fully sheath himself, or ten minutes, but he was certain that his life had reached its apex once they were fully joined.

"So full," she sighed breathlessly.

He smiled down at her look of jubilant triumph and whispered, "I love you."

She offered him a dazzling smile and enthused, "I love you too."

What had been meant as a gesture, a quick look toward where they were joined to facilitate asking if she was ready to proceed, turned instead into an unbroken gaze of reverent wonder. The feeling of being fully joined with his dream woman in the most intimate way possible was enough to scramble the wits of the most stoic of men, but the additional stimulation of seeing his throbbing manhood buried to the hilt in her slick folds nearly brought him to completion.

He returned his gaze to his companion to find her similarly enraptured by the sight of their union. She answered his unspoken question by wrapping her legs around him and attempting to pull him further into her core.

It took David a few moments to figure out the mechanics of loving, but Petra's wisdom quickly proved prescient as he allowed his heart to guide him. He built up his rhythm with the same tantalizing patience which had guided their initial union. All thoughts of stamina, or technique, fled his consciousness in the face of the incomparable bliss on offer for each of his senses.

She noticed his eyes continually flitting toward her soft, succulent breasts which surged in time with each thrust of his hips, prompting her to slide her hands from where they had been resting on his hips to instead cup her titanic treasures.

With a breathy sigh, she offered, "All yours."

"Yeah?"

Her emphatic nod prompted him to duck his head to take one of her prominent nipples between his lips. When a thunderous, approving moan escaped her lips, it emboldened him to latch on to her pebbled bud and suckle like his life depended on it.

"Yes! Oh, shaz, that feels good!"

He got a more impassioned response when he switched to her starboard nipple and she wrapped an arm around the back of his neck to trap him in place. It was all he could do to maintain the pace of his thrusting as she crushed him against her ample chest.

"David!" she yelped frantically. "You're going to give me the frenzies, David! Please... I need to know you're with me."

Around her nipple, he mumbled, "I'm always with you, Petra."

His newfound instincts once again served him well when he gently bit her nipple while increasing the intensity of his sucking. Her free hand joined her legs in a manic effort to plead him to go harder, deeper, faster; requests his body obeyed without conscious thought. He knew he was nearing the point of no return, but a voice in his head (which sounded remarkably like a genius inventor from the future) confidently directed him to redouble his efforts rather than slowing them.

"I'm close, angel," he panted beneath the cacophony of the bed's complaints and his partner's libidinous moaning. "I'm so fragging close."

"David!" she howled as her inner walls clenched around his plunging manhood and sent him over the precipice.

His muscles locked after he slammed his hips home a final time and every nerve ending in his body seemed to explode in ecstasy as his loins erupted into his lover's welcoming core. The rapturous bliss which pulsed throughout his limbs, infused in his mind and charmed his soul represented the most profound experience of his life, but it paled in comparison to the look on Petra's face.

"So much better..." she sighed breathily as the tension left her limbs.

"What is?"

"That was so much better than I imagined it would be. And I don't mind telling you now that I had pretty lofty expectations of what it would be like to make love to you, Mr. Shyam."

"I... it makes me very happy to hear that, Ms. Jansen. I think I didn't even allow myself to have expectations, because I knew my imagination would fall woefully short of reality. And holy shaz was I right."

"I know we need to make dinner, and a million other things, but do you think we could just lay in bed for a while?"

"We should cover up. It's already starting to get cold in here."

"Perhaps that's just because you worked up a sweat properly fragging your woman, sexy. Besides, if we move, then you'll have to take your prick out of me, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that to happen."

He smiled at her and mused, "I'll have to pull out eventually."

"Why?" she demanded playfully. "Why can't you just keep making love to me forever?"

"That sounds like heaven, angel."

The task of pulling a blanket over their sweat-slicked bodies was simple in comparison to the effort (and attention to detail) which was required to wrap his arms around her and roll toward the head of the bed without getting dislodged.

Once they were situated with her on top, she rested her head on his chest and sighed in contentment. He allowed himself the luxury of spreading her lustrous hair out across them, which earned him a happy giggle from the woman of his dreams.

"Thank you, my love," she whispered sleepily. "You made this... perfect. And you have made me very, very happy."

The thought flashed through his head that the credit for the best moment of his life lay with the woman in his arms (rather than the man he saw in the mirror), but he also felt the truth of her words. In the most important moment of his life, he had succeeded as a man, and a partner, and a lover; but only because the woman who had captured his heart had shown him the way. And, bolstered by their love, he knew that this truth represented a victory rather than an exception.

He kissed her forehead and murmured, "That's all I ever wanted, Petra. I love you so much."

"... love you too," she exhaled as sleep claimed her.

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

Thirty-Two

"What are you doing?" David hissed as he came awake to a sensation which was at once unprecedented and unwelcome. "Quit it!"

While doing his very best to not dislodge the beautiful woman who was using his chest as a pillow, he reached behind him to swat away the cold, wet nose which had found his unclothed backside beneath the covers. Not to be deterred, Emmy continued digging further under the covers (although she did have the decency to aim for his feet for her follow-up effort). He had no small amount of difficulty not obsessing over the scratches still healing on his face as he waited for the energetic canine to settle down in the vicinity of his feet.

When Emmy finally sighed in contentment, David took a moment to consider their situation. Outside, he could hear the wind howling, and he had little difficulty imagining deep snow surrounding the van. He reached for the bedside table and tapped the screen of his phone to discover that it was four minutes after half-past-three in the morning. He also, as part of his movement, gained increased understanding of Emmy's motivation for burrowing beneath the covers.

It was freezing in the van.

In the soft glow coming off his screen, he could see the condensation from his breath. He picked up his phone and activated the flashlight to inspect their surroundings. The van's interior reminded him of a tomb, thanks to the anechoic quality of the hyper-chilled air and the complete absence of exterior light. The comparison became even more pronounced as the wind outside slacked off a bit and he realized that he did not hear the hum of the fan connected to the heat pump.

Recognizing that no good would come of remaining in bed (despite the allure of his spectacularly gorgeous, and extremely warm, girlfriend), he carefully shifted Petra's head onto the pillow and considered possible strategies for his departure. He eventually settled on rolling inelegantly from the welcoming warmth of the mounded-up covers, followed by quickly tucking everything back in to ensure no more heat was lost than absolutely necessary.

"Holy shit!" he whisper-shouted as he padded across the carpet to collect the clothing which was still lying where he had dropped it the prior evening preceding the most profound moment of his life.

He dressed quickly, but the fleece pajama pants and long-sleeved T-shirt did little to ward off the frigid chill in the air. Making as little noise as possible, he pulled on a thick pair of socks before consulting the screen which was connected to the master control program Petra had authored.

"Jesus," he sighed upon spotting that the ambient temperature was cold enough for hypothermia to be a genuine risk.

He looked around anxiously before adding, "Think, God dammit. Think."

He paused for a moment to check the exterior conditions, and he breathed, "Fucking hell," upon discovering that the exterior temperature had dropped even further than he had feared.

"Ok," he continued beneath his breath. "What did she say last night? The main engine! It's got a heater."

Without another word, he ducked beneath the desk and slithered through to the bridge. After shoving his cold weather gear (which Petra had helpfully spread out to dry the night before) out of the way, he dropped into the helmsman's couch and pushed the ignition button.

"Well, that's not fucking good," he grunted when the engine only managed a weak hiccup.

He had a sudden flashback to a conversation with the gentleman who had done the bulk of the work in building his van, specifically about whether to install an engine block warmer. A lifelong resident of the deep south, David had been quick to dismiss the added cost. It took little effort to recall his boisterous boast about the whole point of a truly mobile home was that he could always drive away from extremely cold weather.

Absent any better strategy, he pushed the button again. This time, he was rewarded with a healthier cough from the engine, but it continued to refuse to turn over.

"Mother fucker!" he seethed as he slammed his hand down on the steering wheel.

"Just give it another minute," Petra whispered from behind him. "It's a good engine. It'll turn over, despite the cold."

"But what if the diesel's frozen?" he asked dispiritedly.

"I just checked. The temperature would have to drop a shaz of a lot more than it has for that to happen. Just try it again."

"Here goes nothing," he sighed before depressing the button.

To his great surprise, the engine slowly rumbled to life. For a long moment, it sounded like a clothes dryer filled with baseballs, but it eventually smoothed out. David knew he would have to wait several minutes before the engine started to generate any heat, so he held off on cranking the blower.

This left him little alternative but to face up to his failures. He turned in his seat to find Petra standing naked as she studied the main readout as she shivered violently.

"Jesus, Petra," he gasped as he dove beneath the desk. "It's fucking freezing in here. Let me get you some clothes."

With chattering teeth, she asked, "Why did the heat pump stop working? Oh frag! It can't condense frozen water, you ninny. I'll bet it's even got an auto-shutoff to keep it from damaging itself."

"Here," he offered as he wrapped a blanket around her.

"We kind of shazzed this up," she whispered as she sank into the desk chair, "didn't we?"

"The important thing is that the engine is running. Once it warms up, we'll crank the heater. You should go sit up front so you warm up faster."

She looked up at him with a hint of playfulness and offered, "We could always go back to bed. I can think of a much better way to warm up."

"That's very tempting, but I really think I need to check around outside first and make sure we don't have any other surprises in store."

"Coward," she muttered teasingly.

"How long do you think it will take the engine block to warm up?"

"Ten minutes?"

"And then how long to get it above freezing in here?"

"You know very well that it's nowhere close to freezing in here," she replied playfully. Then, after pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders, she added, "At least... technically."

"Right. One sec."

David stepped through to the rear of the van and unlocked the latch on the side of the bed. His efforts to access the storage beneath were temporarily interrupted when Emmy scrambled out from beneath the covers and rushed to Petra's side.

"Sorry girl," he offered lamely before finishing the task of raising the bed.

He reached into the least accessible section of the grid of storage compartments and pulled out an appliance the size of a small suitcase. After returning the bed to its prior state, he returned to Petra's side and plugged the space heater in before setting it before her. She moaned in appreciation when warm air started flowing from the device.

"Why didn't you set this up last night?"

He looked up from where he still knelt before her making sure her blanket kept far from the rapidly heating ceramic and replied, "I was a little distracted last night, angel."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Not remotely. I can honestly say I regret nothing, although I certainly would have preferred you not waking up in an ice box."

"Agreed." She gestured to the space heater and added, "But things are looking up, right?"

"That thing, plus the engine, might be enough to keep it from getting even colder in here. But there's little chance that we're going to get back to being balmy."

Petra took a peek at the sticker on the top of the never-before-used space heater and, after thinking for a moment, said, "Fifteen hundred watts will drain about... a half of a percent of the battery pack per minute. We've got fifty-three percent left now, which means we're about an hour from the generator automatically cutting on to start the recharge. I think it would make sense, however, to manually override it now, just to gauge if we've got any other issues."

"Any reason to believe that won't work?"

"We'll soon know," she replied playfully. She looked to be on the verge of saying something else, but an explosive cough was all that came out.

David rose to check on her and was quickly overcome with his own coughing fit.

"The... aust..." she gasped.

"What?"

She lifted the blanket up to cover her mouth and took a breath before saying, "The exhaust... it must be blocked."

He followed her example to get a full breath. "Get on the floor. The fumes will be less potent there. I'll go outside and fix this."

"Hurry!"

David hurried back up to the bridge and hustled to get his boots and gloves on. His efforts to burst from the cab and into the still raging blizzard came to an abrupt halt when the door refused to open. Rather than trying to muscle the door through a snow bank, he took advantage of the running engine and lowered the window.

His exit from the vehicle was neither graceful nor comfortable, despite the hip deep snow outside. He knew, however, that he had no time to concern himself with his own safety. He scampered around to the rear of the van, only to find that the snow had built up high enough to cover the license plate. A quick circuit of the van confirmed that the snow was high enough around the entire perimeter to reach the body work.

"Son of a bitch," he coughed. "It's trapping all the fumes underneath."

He worked frantically with his hands to dig out the corner of the van where he knew the tailpipe to be. With every handful of snow he shoved to the side, he had the distinct impression that things were getting hotter. It took only minutes before he broke through, and was rewarded with a face full of diesel smoke for his efforts. He rolled to the side, coughing mightily to expel the acrid fumes.

"Well that sucked," he sputtered toward the inky darkness above him.

"David!" Petra yelped from the vicinity of the bow. "Are you ok?"

He took a careful breath before replying, "Never better."

She found him in the darkness and knelt over him before asking anxiously, "What happened?"

"I fixed the exhaust problem."

Petra looked around for a moment, taking in the newly dug tunnel beneath the aft starboard section of the van which was spewing black smoke before rushing off into the night.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

David chased after her but quickly lost her in the utter absence of ambient light. He was forced to pause and use his ears to locate her. Fortunately, she was not being shy about making noise.

Finally catching up to her in the dumpster paddock, he shined the light from his phone on her and gasped, "What are you doing?"

She looked over her shoulder, no mean feat when the upper half of her body was inside the dumpster, and replied, "Looking for something to keep your chimney from filling up with snow again. Cardboard is flammable, right?"

"Yeah. Extremely." She grinned at him, prompting him to add, "You're fragging with me. Aren't you?"

"Always. As for a chimney, my dreams of discarded ductwork or metal cabinets have been dashed. But I think maybe I can use a couple of these milk crates. Stack them up above the exhaust and pile a bunch of cardboard on top so it doesn't fill up with snow? The heat from the exhaust should do the rest."

"What would I do without you?"

"Let's not find out," she replied quickly. "Do you mind if I hand these out to you? They're a little, um, messy."

"Then why don't you let me get in there and handle this?"

"I'm already in here. Besides, I'm actually dressed for the weather. Whereas you..."

He looked down at his snow-covered pajama pants and T-shirt, and immediately felt as though his core temperature dropped ten percent. He hastened to help Petra extract a trio of milk crates (which he suspected had been dropped whilst in the act of transporting their primary cargo, and discarded rather than making the effort to clean them up). Thanks to the blizzard, however, all of the disgustingness on the crate was frozen. After giving the matter a moment's thought, he realized the temperature was also the reason the dumpster had no odor.

Once Petra finished handing the crates and cardboard over her head, he helped her down and collected a kiss for his efforts. She made quick work of constructing a rudimentary chimney which he suspected would be serviceable, but require constant vigilance lest they once again attempt to poison themselves with noxious gases.

Crisis averted, the pair returned to the bridge where David again had cause to give thanks for the beautiful genius who allowed him to call her his girlfriend. The window which he had left open as he departed was now only cracked just enough to allow the lingering fumes to escape while not consigning Emmy to catch her death of cold. Petra had also taken the time to shove the door open, but he took a moment to clear away more snow before opening the passenger side entry and waving her regally inside. She slid across the driver's side so he could follow her in and get the door closed.

David took a careful sniff of the air, but he only detected small amounts of lingering fumes. A check of one of the panels on the dash confirmed that the carbon monoxide alarm was operating, allowing him to relax by the slimmest of margins.

His reverie was interrupted when his companion said, "Hurry up, handsome. Get those clothes off before the snow starts to melt and you really get cold."

"I'm not sure getting naked is the solution to extreme cold," he replied as he pulled his shirt over his head.

"Fun though," she chortled with a dazzling smile. "Seriously, though, you were outside for almost twenty minutes, and you spent a fair amount of that time lying down. You need to get out of those soon-to-be wet clothes and into the shower before the adrenaline wears off and you slip into hypothermia."

"There is no way the water heater will work in this weather, Petra."

"You forget, we swapped out that old-fashioned tank for an inline unit. Instant heat, which is exactly what you need right now. You should also leave the exhaust fan off. The humid air will help warm things up in here when you're done. Now get before I'm forced to threaten the withholding of sexual favors, because I'm not sure I'm capable of following through on an ultimatum which implies I don't intend to slurp on your prick literally the minute things warm up in here."

The bark of laughter which escaped his lips at her curious turn of phrase caused Emmy to yelp from beneath the covers on the bed. Petra merely quirked a teasing eyebrow in his direction before accepting the kiss he offered on his way to follow her instructions to the letter.

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

Thirty-Three

"That's an hour," David announced after deactivating the alarm on his phone.

"I can fire up the power plant again," Petra replied from her makeshift workstation in the passenger seat of the bridge, "but I'm honestly not freezing right now." She dipped her head down to peer outside before adding, "I think the sun's finally coming out. I suspect it's warming the van up, at least to a limited degree."

"Then I should get the snow off the solar panels so we can save some propane for tonight."

She turned to face him with a worried expression. "Why not just use the auxiliary ones? I worry about you climbing up on the roof with all this snow and ice."

"I'll deploy those as well, but I'm worried about all that weight on the roof panels. If the ground around us is any judge, we likely have the equivalent of a family sedan on top of us right now. It's honestly a wonder we haven't suffered any kind of structural failure."

"Just please be careful, David."

He nodded his concurrence before standing from the desk (where he had spent the better part of the ten hours since sunup catching up on work) to start the laborious process of clothing himself to venture out into the frigid weather outside. Fortunately, he had become quite skilled at the process thanks to his frequent trips outside to ensure the exhaust did not once again become occluded.

David was able to exit via the main door without too much difficulty despite the accumulation surrounding them reaching his lower thighs in some places. He was amazed by the sheer amount of snow which had been dumped on the city since they had taken refuge the previous afternoon. Articles they had read online were calling it the worst early-season blizzard in history. Fortunately, between the sun finally peeking out from behind the clouds and the temperature finally bottoming out, the storm also seemed to be showing signs of abating.

"Still fragging freezing," he barked upon stepping outside.

He hurried to close the door behind him before taking a moment to check the exhaust, but that threat seemed to be diminishing along with the snowfall. In the distance, he could hear the voices of children who were likely far happier with the unseasonable storm than their parents, and David smiled to himself at the thought of their carefree merriment.

After trudging a comfortable distance away from the van, he was able to see that the accumulation on the roof was significantly less than it was on the surrounding tarmac. There was more than enough snow however to render the solar panels inert (not to mention significantly exceeding the weight limit of the roof). As he considered the weight question, however, the thought occurred to him that placing himself atop the van (along with enough snow to fill several dozen residential grade bathtubs) was as likely to exacerbate the problem as resolve it.

It took a bit of effort to get his storage locker open, but he was soon assembling his broom. He hoped that he could make use of the ladder and brush off most of the snow without climbing onto the roof. Putting that strategy into practice proved challenging from the outside as he discovered that the exterior of the van was liberally peppered with ice. After inspecting the situation, he decided that the combination of the (relatively) higher temperature inside the van and the intensifying sunlight were warring with the still frigid temperature to create a thawing/freezing cycle which was turning the relatively benign (apart from the weight, and the fact that they were impossibly stuck) snow into treacherous ice.

Recognizing that no good could come from putting off the inevitable, David grabbed the lowest rung of the ladder and started a very careful ascent. His boots seemed eager to slide off the rungs, so he found himself quickly scrambling to keep from falling. He quickly worked out a strategy for hooking one arm around the ladder's vertical strut while he used the other hand to move upwards. Unfortunately this left him with no way to carry the broom.

"What the frag are you doing?" Petra shouted from behind him.

"I thought we already discussed this," David replied distractedly as he shoved the handle of the broom into his jacket like an archer shoving an arrow back into their quiver.

"How do you propose to unleash that thing if you get to the top of the ladder?"

"I'm all ears if you've got another idea."

"I just checked the forecast. They're saying the temperature might get above freezing tomorrow. And, once these clouds dissipate, they're predicting clear skies for the next week. Just let the sun melt it all."

"You can't honestly tell me you're not a little worried about all this weight, Petra. If we wait for the sun, it'll be at least the day after tomorrow before it really starts to melt in earnest."

"At least let me hand the broom up to you. Emmy looks like she's about done, so I'll let her back in and then stand by to assist you. Just promise to not bukkake me with snow."

"I thought you were working up front."

"If you recall, you lent me your external monitor, so there was nothing to stop me from doing both."

"Employers tend to frown on that type of behavior," he grunted as he scaled the ladder after she had finished ushering Emmy inside the van and relieved him of the broom.

"Why on earth would they care what you're doing so long as you're getting your work done on time? They didn't even send you a laptop, just one of those cloud-based virtual-desktops, so they can't even complain about watching pornography on their device. In any case, I finished all your assignments for that client in less than an hour."

After collecting the broom from Petra, he made a tentative first attempt to remove some snow before replying, "That was meant to be a week's worth of work."

"Don't worry, I only checked in a tiny section so we can dole it out piecemeal until finally delivering the working code just before the end of the sprint. What amazes me is the fact that you're more concerned about how me working too quickly might reflect on you than you are about the implication that your girlfriend is seeking out videos of a bunch of pricks spurting on some poor trollop's face."

"I don't judge you for how you pass your down time while you're waiting for code to compile," he panted as he tried to reach further onto the roof to clear more snow.

"You're suggesting you would not be even remotely jealous if you caught me watching pornography?"

"Um... I honestly hadn't given it any thought one way or the other. Should I be?"

"Are you trying to tell me that you have no intention of foregoing your enjoyment of pornography, even though our relationship has reached the sexual plateau?"

"Of course not!" he protested as he turned his head in her direction. "I would never..."

Further protestations on his part were interrupted by the cruel hand of gravity taking advantage of his split focus to give his foot the smallest of nudges. This precipitated a sequence of events which started with the smallest of slips and ended with him plummeting into the snow head first.

"David!" Petra yelped as she hurried over to him. "Are you ok?"

"Never better," he groaned as he rolled to face the brightening sun.

"Don't move. You might have broken something."

"Only my pride," he muttered to himself as he tried, with limited success, to catch his breath after landing in what amounted to a belly-flop in the snow. As she set about checking him over, he was horrified to see tears in her eyes. He reached up to cradle her face with his glove and whispered, "I'm very sorry if I scared you, honey."

"You're really not hurt?"

"The snow broke my fall," he replied gravely. "I swear."

"David," she whimpered, "you have to be more careful than that, baby. Ok?"

"I promise."

"So no more going up on the ladder?"

"Certainly not until all this shaz melts. But I really should get to work setting up the auxiliary panels while the sun's high in the sky."

She helped him to his feet wearing a skeptical expression. Her true feelings were reinforced when her gentle brush to dislodge the snow from his head turned into a meticulous prodding of the back of his neck.

"Hey!" he gasped in surprise. "What are you doing? Your hands are freezing."

"I'm sorry. I just..."

He turned to take her into his arms. Her sobs devastated him, in no small part because he was the sole cause for her unhappiness.

"I'm the one who should be apologizing, Petra. I know it would rip my soul right out of my body if I saw you get hurt. I should have been more careful."

She pulled back and took his face in her still-cold hands, and the look in her eyes harbored no objections. "I love you, David. That comes with what I hope you'll consider to be not a few benefits, including all the sex you can stand."

"Beyond beneficial," he assured her softly.

"But it also means that you have an obligation to me to take care of yourself, so that I can keep loving you."

"I accept, so long as it means you'll do the same for me."

Their shared kiss was only able to beat back the bracing cold surrounding them for a few moments before they pulled apart and agreed by silent accord to rush to deploy the auxiliary panels. The work took longer than David anticipated, due in large part to the necessity of wearing gloves lest their fingers become permanently affixed to the frigid metal nearly negating the benefit of Petra's assistance. On the bright side, the rapidly clearing clouds combined with the sub-zero temperatures to give the panels a bountiful feast of solar radiation to drink in.

Once they had confirmed that the panels were operating properly, they did what they could to clear snow from around the van. It was a task that felt like the height of futility in the midst of a blizzard, but they had learned the hard way just how frustrating (and uncomfortable) only being able to exit the van via a window could be. Petra made use of the broom to brush the snow from the windscreen, and attempt to dislodge more of the fluffy stuff from the front portion of the roof, while David used his foot to clear more space from the vicinity of the doors.

They were nearly finished when they heard a gruff voice call out from behind him, "You folks ok?"

David whipped his head around to find a man in cold-weather coveralls approaching them from the direction of the street. It was hard to identify even the man's ethnicity, thanks to the balaclava he wore.

"We're fine," David declared evenly as he stepped in front of Petra.

"I'm not here to cause any trouble," the man announced as he came to a halt. "I drive a plow for the city and I stopped out front because some kids were out there sledding. I wanted to give them a bit more fun before I clear the street, so I decided it was a good time for a smoke break. I heard you two talking back here and figured I'd make sure you didn't need anything. Honestly, it was pretty fucking smart to take shelter from the wind the way you did. The Mrs. and I have a travel trailer, and we had the devil's own time properly outfitting it for cold-weather camping."

"Sorry," David offered with an embarrassed shrug. "I thought maybe you were..."

"No apologies are necessary. I just wanted to see if you needed anything." He gave David's van a lengthy once over before adding, "How's your diesel supply holding up? Is your heater gobbling it all up?"

"I actually opted to skip the diesel heater," David admitted sheepishly. "I'm from Alabama. I figured I'd just run away from temperatures cold enough to render the heat pump inert."

"But then this mother fucker of a blizzard comes barrelling down from Canada and catches you flatfooted," the plowman concurred. "Hey... it happens. So, how are you two not frozen solid?"

"We're running the regular engine every other hour and using that for heat. I've also got a space heater."

Their guest finished his approach and pulled off his headgear to reveal a shock of red hair and a handlebar mustache. He gave them a worried look and asked, "How you two fixed for propane?"

"I swapped to a new tank a couple hours ago, and we've got one more full one."

"And diesel?"

"We're good there," Petra replied. "We've still got two-thirds of a tank."

"Meaning y'all are on track to run out of damn near everything in about thirty-six hours, in the middle of the God damn night."

"But we've got the solar panels out now, so we'll stop consuming propane during the day. And the sun is warming things up inside the van. I suspect we'll be fine until well into the day after tomorrow."

"Still, if you folks don't mind, I'm going to bring the plow around back here and clear you a path out to the road. That way, if you decide you need to try to make a supply run, you won't be hopelessly stuck. And, if you don't mind, I'll swing by tomorrow and check on you."

"Why?" David asked with renewed suspicion.

"Because we R. V. ers need to look out for each other, and because it's the right thing to do."

"Thank you," Petra said warmly. "We really appreciate your help."

"Yeah," David added. "Sorry for being so..."

"Don't sweat it, friend," the man replied with a shrug. "It ain't like I've never been caught boondocking before. I know how it is."

"Thanks," David said gruffly. Then, after feeling an unfamiliar niggle of social expectation, he stuck his hand out and added, "I'm David. And this is my girlfriend, Petra."

The plowman took his hand and offered, "Dickie." After Petra shook his hand, Dickie said, "Well, I'd best get back to work. I'll be back here in just a minute to clear you folks a path out of here. But I don't recommend trying to head out until at least mid-day tomorrow after we can plow the streets again. I doubt anything will ice, as it's not supposed to get above freezing until the day after tomorrow, but you can never be too careful with this shit."

"Much obliged, Dickie," David said gravely.

"Do you have time to wait for us to make you some coffee?" Petra asked hopefully.

"I've got a full thermos in the plow, but I appreciate it."

"Some lunch then? My lover makes salmon that is so good."

"Thank you, but no," he replied with a smile. He donned his balaclava and hat before saying, "You folks have a fine afternoon, and keep an eye on those gauges. The roads will be clear, at least to a limited extent. If you find yourself in trouble, emergency services should be able to come help you out."

"Thank you, Dickie!" Petra called in parting as the helpful plowman turned to trudge through the snow. After he disappeared around the end of the building, she turned to David and gushed, "What a nice man!"

"Indeed," he concurred. "Now, I think you should get inside. As adorable as those rosy cheeks look on you, what follows is something I think we should avoid at all costs."

As she turned toward the van, she asked, "Are you sure we can't take a shower together?"

"I feel like there wouldn't be any room for the water if we both squeezed in there together, and I have a clear memory of how uncomfortable it is to slip and fall in there."

After waiting for him to close the door behind him, she huffed, "It's just so frustrating to have to wear all these fragging clothes! All I can think about is doing sex with you, so many different ways of doing sex, but it's too fragging cold!"

"I'm right there with you, but I think we need to achieve at least enough warmth inside where we don't have to wear gloves to work before you consider prancing around in your glorious skin."

"I know," Petra grumped. "Just promise me tonight that you'll take me to bed and we'll make love to keep the chill at bay."

David grinned at her and replied, "That sounds just about perfect to me," before pulling her into his arms and claiming her lips for a kiss which, if for only a brief moment, pushed back the frigid chill surrounding them.

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

Thirty-Four

"David!" Petra called out from inside the head.

The bowl in which he had been (with limited success) trying to bring a Hollandaise sauce together clattered noisily into the sink as he anxiously called out, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I was just curious if this door was thin enough for us to talk through."

David sighed wearily and grumped, "So it would appear."

"I'm sorry if I worried you," she offered somewhat mutedly.

"Are you just trying to get back at me for the thing with the ladder?"

"I would never go out of my way to make you feel like that. Ever."

"Indeed," he replied gravely. "I apologize for my implication."

In an obvious bid to change the subject, she asked, "What are you doing out there?"

"Trying my hand at eggs benedict."

"What's that?"

He considered her lack of context for a moment before replying, "Think of it as breakfast for dinner. Poached eggs, cured ham, a muffin that isn't really a muffin, and a very fussy sauce. It also has the benefit of requiring that I use basically every heating element in the kitchen simultaneously."

"Are you trying to warm it up out there so I'll stay naked for you?"

"Yes to the first half. The second part is like my reward once I finally make it so my girlfriend isn't constantly on the verge of hypothermia."

"It's my reward too, handsome. Because you'll be right there with me."

He shrugged to the empty room and said, "Fair enough." After resuming his work on the sauce, he asked, "Are you staying in there because of how warm it is? Not that I'd blame you."

As though it were the most natural response in the world, she replied, "I'm shaving my quim for you."

"Oh."

"And, let me tell you, I have half a mind to go back and burn down something else of Sarah's, because it is a massive pain in the hiney to shave one's quim in this fragging shoe box. It's so steamy that I can't use a mirror, and it's so cramped that I can't bend over and just see what I'm doing. So I have to do everything by feel. I cannot tell you how much I'd have preferred just watching you do it where we had plenty of room to stretch out."

"You didn't have to go to all that trouble, Petra. You were already perfect."

"But I'm really looking forward to you lapping my quim later, and..."

"It would take a lot more than a bit of stubble to dissuade me from wanting to do that."

"I also know that it will feel amazing now. Did you not shave your prick and nads for me when you showered?"

"You asked me to do so through the door, what... five times? Of course I did."

"I've never had a prick in my mouth before, and I'm still a little nervous about what it will be like when you spurt all over my tongue. Especially considering how much cream you deposited in my quim last night."

"You know I'm not asking you to do that, Petra. Not remotely. What we did last night was all I ever..."

"David!" she interrupted not-unkindly. "I know you'd never force me to shove your prick down my throat, or spurt all over my face... or even my teats. And I know it would never even occur to you to guilt me into doing anything like that. I think it's far more likely that I'll struggle mightily to convince you to tell me the different ways you'd like us to do sex.

"Can't you see that that's exactly why I want to do all of it? I want to help you feel amazing in every way possible. I am also extremely excited about the proposition of you filling my mouth with your cream, the same way I was excited about making love to you for the first time. Feeling nerves about an experience which is completely outside of anything I can imagine is not the same thing as dreading it... not remotely. I could not be more excited about doing everything with you, handsome. Even asking you to put your prick in my hiney."

David opened his mouth to reply, but the door to the head suddenly burst open and he found his arms filled with a very slippery, very naked, beautiful woman. She reached back to slam the door to the head behind her before proceeding to drag David toward the bed by his waistband.

"Under the covers!" she gasped frantically. "Quick!"

He followed her under the covers without hesitation and pulled her into an embrace to ward off the chill.

"Why are you still dressed?" she asked through chattering teeth.

As he worked to rapidly divest himself of his clothing, he muttered, "I was presented with an impossible decision, and I made the best choice I could."

"I forgot that it would also be cold under the covers."

"I'm right here. I'll warm you up."

"I'll remember you said that."

Had David been pressed even one day earlier to evaluate the advisability of having a beautiful woman shoving wet frigid hands between his thighs such that her wrists were nuzzling against his scrotum, he likely would have welcomed the experience. The truth, however, was so shocking that he lost the power of speech.

When a long wheeze finally broke free of his lungs, Petra whispered, "I told you it was cold."

He managed to stammer, "I. Believed. You."

"On the plus side, your nads are really warm."

"They were warm."

"Do you hate me for shamelessly using your body for my own purposes?"

"Well," he drawled, "when you put it like that..."

One of her still-quite-cold hands slid up past his scrotum to encircle his penis, ripping a reflexive hiss from his lips.

She sultrily prompted him, "You didn't answer my question, handsome. I'd hate to think that someone with such a deliciously smooth prick thinks ill of me."

"You know I could never think ill of you."

"Even though I wrapped my icy cold hands around your rapidly hardening prick?"

"I think the second half of that question is far more important than the first half."

"That's too bad," she murmured coquettishly as she began to kiss her way down his chest, "I was prepared to make amends for my grievous offenses against you by warming your magnificent prick with my mouth."

"You don't have to..."

"David," she barked with a twinge of frustration, "are you going to let me suck your dick, or aren't you?"

"Language!" he mockingly chided.

"Just promise you'll tell me if I do anything wrong."

"I don't think you could possibly... holy shit!"

The juxtaposition between the bracing cold of her hands and the wet warmth of her mouth on his manhood robbed him of the power of rational thought. At first, she seemed content to daintily suckle on the tip of his penis while she swirled her tongue around the head. But with each passing moment brought him closer to the precipice.

As though she could intuit his innermost thoughts, she released his cock and ran her tongue down the length of his shaft before taking one of his testicles into the heated heaven of her mouth. One of her rapidly warming hands found its way to his prick and began stroking him at a languid pace.

"I can't believe how soft your skin is," she mumbled around one of his testicles. "Even though your prick is so hard. It's incredible."

"You are incredible, honey. Everything you're doing... it's like nothing I could have ever imagined."

"I love slurping your prick, David. The knowledge that I am exclusively responsible for how you're feeling right now... I just can't tell you how happy it makes me to do this for you. And how much it turns me on. I'm gushing for you right now."

"I want to taste you."

"All in good time, my love," she whispered sultrily before taking his manhood to the entrance of her throat. His hips bucked instinctively in response to her attempt to deepthroat him, prompting a wet cough from his companion.

"I'm so sorry!"

Without fully removing his cock from her mouth, she mumbled, "Don't be... I'm not."

She did not repeat her attempt to take his full length into her mouth, but she did quicken the bobbing motion of her head. There was never a moment when she was not attempting to pleasure him with every tool at her disposal. Whether it was dragging her nipples along his thighs, or caressing his balls with one hand while she stroked his base with the other, or laving the underside of his shaft with her tongue, or sending tingles of pleasure throughout his body with her libidinous moaning; each action alone would have been an apex level fantasy, but combined they were hastening to the point of no return.

"Petra," he rasped as she rose back up to take his cock back into her mouth, "I'm not going to last if you keep that up."

She pulled back until his tip barely touched her lips and said, "I know. I need you to spurt in my mouth, handsome. Please, David... please let me eat your cream."

"Oh my God!" he moaned as he threw his head back and gave himself over to the pleasure she offered.

His entire body spasmed as he erupted into her coaxing mouth. In the next moment, she pushed his pleasure to new heights as the vibrations from her satisfied moan rippled through his body. His pleasure continued to crescendo with the sensation of her tongue flexing as she swallowed his seed without ever diminishing the eager bobbing of her head.

"Petra," he gasped frantically, "please! It's too much."

The speed with which she released his manhood tore a fresh yelp from his lungs. She scrambled up his body to gaze into his eyes and whispered, "Did I hurt you?"

"No," he panted, "it just felt too good. It was so much more overwhelming than a regular... you know..."

"Fruitful frenzy?" she prompted with a snicker.

"Orgasm," he corrected with a grin.

"More intense than last night?"

"I'm not sure I could put it into words," he replied as he rolled her over and began his journey down her incredible body, "but I'd be delighted to show you."

"Are you sure? My quim is really wet right now, we're talking full-on gush... in Tesla's name!"

"And your quim tastes fragging delightful," David murmured from between her thighs.

He was struck by a feeling of gratitude that he had attended to the remainder of his own grooming, because the feeling of her smooth vulva against his lips was like nothing he could have imagined; soft beyond belief and more succulent than a meal fit for the gods. Her intoxicating essence overwhelmed his senses in a way which was more than intoxicating, more than addictive; in the span of mere seconds, it became necessary.

Her ragged sigh filled the room as he teased the tip of his tongue along her seam. He allowed himself a few moments to explore her exquisite femininity, cataloging her reaction to various changes in the location and pressure of his ministrations.

"Just a little higher," she breathed in anticipation.

"All in good time," he replied softly as he retreated from her clit.

"David, stop tease... oh wow!"

He smiled into her gushing core as he shoved his tongue deeper into her entrance. Her wetness surged in time with the tiny thrusts of her hips into his mouth. Her movements drove her clit against his nose, and her thighs locked his head in place, both of which made breathing quite challenging; but escape was the furthest thing from his mind. When her hands threaded into his hair and pulled him toward her clit, he went without further protestation.

"Yes, yes, YES, YES!" she panted as he teased her clit.

He made no reply beyond capturing her pleasure bud between his lips and flicking it with the tip of his tongue. Her body started gently convulsing beneath him as he quickened his efforts. He felt as though their connection gave him perfect, exhilarating clarity about the pleasure she was experiencing.

She pleaded breathlessly, "Use... fingers..."

The moment he slid his finger into her welcoming heat, a keening wail exploded from her lips and her hips bucked off the bed with such intensity that it was all he could do to hang on. He felt the frigid air of the van hit his backside as Petra kicked the covers off the bed, but he would not be dissuaded from his dedication to her pleasure. Adding another finger to her clenching channel sent her crescendoing pleasure to another level, priming an explosion of pleasure to detonate within her incomparable body when he began sucking on her clit in earnest.

"Oh shaz! Oh shaz! David... you're going to make me... frag! Frag! Frag!"

Her thighs snapped closed around his head as her release consumed her, but even that exquisite prison did not shield his ears from her cacophonous scream as her body spasmed mindlessly around him. The proof of her excitement consumed his senses and he eagerly drank down every drop.

"Too much," she mewled as he continued to lave her folds with his tongue. "Please! I can't take any more."

David rose from between her thighs and gazed down at her in abject disbelief. How, he wondered, could they be of the same species. She had an aura about her that belied even the angelic moniker he frequently applied to her; indeed he felt quite certain she was in fact glowing. The sheen of sweat which coated her body felt like a monument to his efforts, and the smile on her face was his trophy.

But his triumph was short lived, as it took only a moment for her to gasp, "Cold!"

He snatched the covers from the floor where she had flung them and pulled them around them before pulling her into his arms. She snuggled into the warmth he offered and peppered kisses along his chest as her breathing normalized.

"Wow!" she panted, "you are really good at lapping quim. Are you sure you haven't done it several thousands times in your past?"

"I could say the same about you with respect to how amazing you are at making love to me with your mouth."

"You can call it slurping your prick, David. Or swallowing your massive load of savory man cream. That's what I did, and what I intend to do at least ten thousand or so more times."

"I also intend to lap your sweet, succulent quim, and drink deep of your intoxicating cream, as often as you'll let me. You're my first, my love. My only."

"Oh! David!" she gushed. "I want that too. More than anything. Just you and me, forever. I don't care that we've only known each other a week..."

"Not even," he interjected. "And I couldn't agree more. You're all I ever wanted, Petra. All I'll ever want."

"Tell me you love me again?"

"I love you, Petra. With all that I am, and all I'll ever be."

"Oh, David," she gushed, "I love you so fragging much that sometimes it hurts. Can we just stay like this for a while?"

He kissed her briefly before whispering, "How about forever?"

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

Thirty-Five

"Frag, you feel good, handsome," Petra grunted breathlessly as she rode him with near-reckless abandon.

David gazed up at her in wonder and whispered, "Honey, you have no idea how amazing you feel."

"Put your hands on me!"

"Gladly."

The sensation of her breasts surging against his hands as he tweaked her nipples nearly finished him off. It was only the bond they had forged in the eight days since her inconceivable arrival, and especially in the three days since a blizzard had forced them into an extended honeymoon, that gave him the stamina he needed.

She found her pleasure moments later and threw her head back and screamed in ecstasy as she fell back upon his sweat-slicked chest. He wrapped his arms around her and attempted to continue thrusting to extend her bliss, but her spasms were too intense and he shortly became dislodged altogether.

"Shaz, David," she sighed, "you're so fragging good at fragging me."

"I was just thinking the same thing, especially considering you were doing all the work."

"This time," she chortled gleefully. "What about last time?"

"If memory serves, you also did all the work last time."

"That was because I wanted to try cowgirl, so obviously this time we had to do reverse-cowgirl for comparison."

"For science, right?"

"You bet your handsome, studly hiney."

"So, in the interest of science, which do you prefer?"

"I can't decide," she mock-grumped. "I love being able to see your eyes with regular cowgirl, but I also love how I can grind my clit on your nads when I'm leaning forward doing reverse cowgirl."

"No reason one has to win out over the other."

"Oh, I definitely hope we'll try both at least a few thousand more times. We have to get a statistically significant sample, after all."

"Obviously," he agreed with a smile.

After they shared an unhurried kiss, she pulled back suddenly and gasped, "Wait. You didn't spurt!"

"I assure you that I am fine."

"But you need to spurt, David."

"I have lost count of how many times we've both gotten off in the last three days, Petra. Just think of it as me being more ready for the next time."

"But what if I'm still all sloppy from the amazing fragging you just gave me, and I was thinking that maybe this was the perfect time for us to try it in my hiney?"

"I already told you... I have zero expectations that we'll ever do that."

"But I saw your search history, David. I know you're into hiney-stuff."

"The fact that I watched a video or two has no bearing on this conversation."

"David?" she asked gently. "I need you to stop assuming that this isn't something that I want to do. Ok? I want to do everything with you. Everything. So... can we?"

"You really want to try this?"

"Well... yeah. That trollop in the video we watched last night while we learned the joys of doggie-style looked like she was really..."

Petra was interrupted by the sound of her phone dancing around the top of the bedside table. David glanced in that direction by force of habit and was surprised to see that she was receiving a call from Canada.

She followed his gaze and, upon spotting the screen of her phone, yelped, "In Tesla's name! It's her!"

"Who?"

"I swear I'll tell you everything, and I absolutely promise I'll take care of your exquisite prick, as soon as I get off the phone."

"You don't need to promise me anything, Petra," he replied evenly. "Why don't I get cleaned up, and give you some privacy?"

"David," she pleaded.

He nodded at the phone and said, "You'd better hurry. They're going to hang up."

She continued to look indecisive, so he helped her make a decision by stepping into the head and closing the door behind him.

David tried to focus on the rapid cleansing of his body, and ignore the image in his head of the hurt look on the face of the woman he loved. He should be angry, he argued silently toward the confused face he saw in the mirror, she was obviously hiding something from him. But the mad that was trying to build within him was warring with two formidable foes.

The first was reason. She had not lied to him; she simply possessed information he did not yet share. And the rational part of his brain rightly pointed out that the mystery caller was far from the most consequential data point she hoarded. The simple truth was that his girlfriend was very probably the only human to ever successfully travel through time; and she had done so using incomprehensible mathematics that she perfected and using a time machine she invented. Were her feat to become common knowledge, she would likely go down in history as one of the greatest minds ever. What right did he have to question what facts she chose to share with him? Running neck-and-neck with reason was the undeniable truth that he loved her, and she had never given him the slightest reason to distrust her.

As David stared into the mirror hung on the wall of the head while trying (with limited success) to quell his anger toward his companion, he had a disconcerting realization. The face he saw reflected back to him was not his own; it was that of a man he had not seen in over a dozen years since he departed for college. Recollections of countless biting arguments overheard between his parents when he was still in grade-school battered his consciousness like a tropical storm assaulting a beach; always filled with accusations of dishonesty which sounded to David's adult ears like insecurity rather than betrayal.

"I will not become like him," he growled at his reflection.

He rushed to finish his shower, anxious to make amends for his unspoken accusation. Rushing through drying his body was not the most comfortable of moves (especially when the van's interior was still closer to the freezing point of water than a temperature most people would consider appropriate for a living space intended for humans), but he was a man on a mission.

David burst from the head still soaking wet and gasped, "I'm so sorry... Petra?"

He fell silent when he did not spot his lover on the bed. After grabbing a towel to wrap around himself and prevent more water from dripping onto the carpet, he closed the door to the head and peered toward the bow to find Petra huddled in a blanket on the recliner with tears streaming down her face.

"What's wrong?" he whispered urgently as he knelt before her.

Through racking sobs, she gasped, "Her name is Alejandra Vélez. She's a businesswoman based in Winnipeg. I identified her as a possible ally based on historical records before I came back in time. I reached out to her..."

"Petra?" David interrupted gently.

"I am so sorry I didn't tell you, but I reached out to her the day before yesterday in the hopes that she would..."

"Honey?" he pleaded. "Please. You have nothing to apologize for. At all. I'm the one who's an asshole, I'm the one who should be apologizing."

"But you weren't the one who hid..."

"I'm the one who's no better than a poor-white-trash hillbilly who views women as property. I got angry with you, Petra. Over nothing. You know what my reaction should be if you reach out to someone to help us? I should say, 'That's great! You're amazing! How can I help?', not immediately act like you fragging betrayed me with zero fucking evidence."

"But I didn't tell you I reached out to her," she wailed.

"Nor were you obligated to. I'm not your fucking master, Petra. I'm your shitty, suspicious boyfriend who you should be screaming at right now for acting like an asshole. You sure as shaz shouldn't be apologizing to me." He stopped to wipe the tears from his eyes before lowering his voice to a whisper and adding, "I'm so sorry I made you cry. Again."

"I never meant to hide this from you, my love, I just never thought in a million years that it would work."

"You didn't hide it from me," he reassured her as he took her hands, "you just only now got the chance to tell me."

"You're really not mad?" she asked in a childlike voice.

"I am furious... at myself. You deserve so much better than that alpha-male bullshit you just saw, and I swear to you that I will do better. But I am not upset with you, Petra. Not remotely. Can you forgive me?"

She nodded tearfully and whispered, "Yes. Do you forgive me?"

"I maintain that you never had anything to apologize for," he replied somberly.

"Please, David."

"Yes. Of course."

"Thank you," she sighed gratefully.

He prompted, "So... this contact of yours?"

"Alejandra Vélez," she provided. "She's a fascinating person. Her father was just another billionaire carelessly pillaging the business world as a venture capitalist. She never had any misconceptions that he was a good man, and left home to make her own way in the world under an assumed name. She put herself through school and started making a name for herself in the non-profit clean-energy sector.

"Then, when she was twenty-nine, her father passed unexpectedly. It took nearly a year, but her mother was eventually successful in lobbying Alejandra to take over the family business. The board of directors was apoplectic when she quickly pivoted the business to clean energy, but they got real quiet when she increased profits by more than a dozen percentage points in just the first year.

"I reached out to her because, in addition to her commitment for clean-energy, she's also passionate about social justice. So much so that she spent her entire fortune trying to help people that the Supreme Leader declared to be enemies of the state. When her money ran out, she still wasn't deterred. She kept doing everything in her power to fight his brand of evil. Right up until she was executed by the Defenders of Morality after she was captured smuggling refugees out of the U. S. in 2039. They boiled her alive, David! On national T. V.!"

"What the fuck is wrong with people?" he growled.

"Hate is an easy emotion to unlock in humans, especially when you further incentivize them with the promise of wealth."

"I guess," he conceded. After shaking his head to dispel the horrific mental picture she had conjured, he asked, "So you think that she can help you get into Canada?"

"I thought we were going to Canada," she replied pointedly. After receiving an apologetic bow of his head in response, she continued. "She's the reason I chose that country."

"Because you believe that she'll help us based on her track record of apparently being the one billionaire who doesn't revel in proudly and publicly being as evil as possible?"

"That is certainly part of it, but it was also her interest in clean energy. I reached out to her because an exhaustive amount of research suggested that she is almost certainly a very good, perhaps even great, person. But I never would have made it through her web of assistants based on that alone. I had to have something to offer her in return for her help."

"But what do you know about clean energy?"

She grinned lopsidedly and replied, "Likely more than anyone alive. The Faraday-Lado containment field is a perfect electromagnetic shield. Not near-perfect, not effective in certain circumstances; it blocks all radiation. In both directions. If you're uncreative, that means you could build safer nuclear power plants. But, if you're an innovator, it means you could build solar farms which are vastly more efficient, both in the collection and transmission of energy. It means you can actually store energy, and not in garbage-y chemical batteries."

"And you're certain you can trust her with tech which is that revolutionary?"

After threading their fingers together and giving him a reassuring squeeze, she stated, "There are very few things I would say that I have zero doubts about, David. I will say that I can't think of anyone else in the position to help us who I would trust more than Ms. Vélez."

"What things?" he asked softly.

Barely above a whisper, she answered, "How much I love you."

"I hope to hell that you know I love you just as much, Petra."

She smiled shyly and said, "That was going to be number two on my list."

As he leaned in to claim her lips, he murmured, "At least I did something right today."

After their unhurried kiss arrived at its eventual conclusion, he asked, "So, what did Ms. Vélez have to say?"

"It was actually her executive assistant. We've got an appointment with her at nine in the morning, the day after tomorrow in Winnipeg. He said she wanted to meet with us tomorrow, but..."

He continued, "Winnipeg is... a long way from here. Even without taking the blizzard in account, I figure it's... fifteen, twenty hours. And there's also the still-unresolved matter of getting you into Canada without an I. D."

"I mentioned that to him, but don't think I was very convincing when I tried to explain why I didn't have any identification."

"You didn't tell him..."

"You remain one of two humans who have ever lived who are aware that time travel is possible for our species... at least that I'm aware of. Hence why I suspect he didn't believe me. I figured, maybe I could try calling him back once we get on the road... if we get on the road."

"What do you mean if?"

"You are the man, David. And it's your van. The decision of where we go remains yours."

"I am loath to correct a beautiful woman, but that's bullshit, Petra. Not only did I promise that I would take you to safety... but I thought we were partners. That means it's up to both of us."

"It wasn't my intention to disappoint you, I just meant that I wanted to make sure you were ok with all this. I know it wasn't exactly what we talked about..."

"The only thing standing in the way of us getting on the road is you saying the word... and stowing the solar panels... and actually getting through the snow that's accumulated since Dickie came by yesterday... and..."

She shushed him with a kiss before chortling, "Yes, I want to go to Canada with you. Right now. I suggest you prep the van for departure, and I'll take Emmy out."

"Sounds like a plan, gorgeous. This time tomorrow, we'll be north of the border!"

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

Thirty-Six

"Oh shaz!" Petra grumbled. "Here comes another one."

"Port or starboard?" David replied wearily.

"They're headed right for us."

"Fucking delightful," he grumbled under his breath as he cautiously downshifted to shed some velocity.

"Ten seconds," she warned anxiously.

"Almost... there..." he muttered as he prayed to the gods of trod-upon travelers before steering into the ankle deep snow which still covered the slow-lane of the highway.

The couple surged forward into their seatbelts as the wheels dug into the snow, but blissfully he retained enough control to keep them from careening toward the shoulder. Moments later, a hatchback barrelled past them, fishtailing wildly on the mostly-plowed lane David had just surrendered.

"That was close," Petra whispered worriedly as David steered back into the open lane.

"I honestly don't know how anyone is doing this without the use of the world's most beautiful woman keeping a close eye on the rear-facing cameras."

"Are you suggesting that my looks are a prerequisite to perform my assigned duties?"

"Absolutely," he replied with a grin. "So, everyone else stuck in this slop is truly shaz-out-of-luck."

"All kidding aside, I still think we should consider stopping for the night."

"What's our E. T. A.?"

"I think at this point we have to admit that the app we're using for navigation is slightly stupider than your average doorstop, since it clearly still hasn't figured out that the maximum safe speed right now on this road is about half the speed limit. This piece of shaz is, as near as makes no difference, adding one minute to our arrival time for every two minutes that transpires. But, since you asked, our extremely unrealistic estimated time of arrival is thirteen-and-a-half hours."

"Oof. So we've only shaved, what, three hours off that time in the last eight? Fuck."

"If Dickie hadn't happened to stop by, it would have taken us a lot more than an hour to get out of that parking lot. And his assessment of the surface streets in Cheyenne was clearly influenced by the fact that the vehicle he drives is, as near as makes no difference, impervious to snow and ice. To address your point, however, it's been six hours since we pulled onto the highway, and our E. T. A. has only dropped by two-and-a-half hours in that time."

"All the more reason we should keep going. At this rate, we'll barely arrive in time for your meeting. Besides, it seems like the snow might be getting sparser... more sparse."

"If the snow is melting, then that means we'll have more ice to contend with. I'm not judging your driving skills, but do you really want to deal with ice covered, unfamiliar roads in the dark? Or, more to the point, will you be comfortable with me dealing with those roads? Because I'll be fragged if I'm going to let you drive all day and all night."

"If we stop, we'll miss your meeting."

"Then we reschedule. I'm sure they'll understand. I already told her minion that we'd have to make our way out of the storm. They're Canadian. They won't begrudge us an extra day if necessary."

"Why don't we just see how much further we can get before dark? It's not like we've seen an R. V. park recently, and we're too low on water to keep camping. To say nothing of the grey- and black-water tanks."

"What about a hotel? Then you don't have to worry about seeking out a campground only to find out that they shut off the water connections due to the cold."

"There aren't exactly a wealth of those around either."

"Well... I do happen to have the entirety of accumulated human knowledge at my fingertips. I could, you know, look for one."

"Sorry," he replied with a chuckle. "I'm still getting used to all the many wonderful ways that my life has improved since we met."

"I deeply respect how capable you proved to be on your own, David. But you don't have to do things by yourself anymore."

He reached out blindly to take her hand before replying, "That goes for both of us, Petra. We're a team. No matter what."

She lifted his hand to brush a kiss across his knuckles before whispering, "I intend to hold you to that."

"Good."

They rode in silence for several moments while David stayed hyper-focused on the slim patch of plowed tarmac stretching to the horizon and Petra split her attention between keeping an eagle-eye on the rear-facing cameras and using her laptop to search for acceptable lodgings along their route. It had, in truth, been an exhausting day despite their objectively sedate pace. The effects of the blizzard were everywhere, with cities in four states grinding to a halt in the face of the early-season storm. Even cities used to dealing with significant snowfall had been caught flat-footed by the mid-October arrival of the kind of storm that usually waited until January to pounce, with snow-clearing equipment stuck in off-season storage and the workers who operated them still focused on their summer jobs. Even three days after the snowfall began, there were still sections of the highway which were untouched by plow or salt truck, forcing David to remain on alert for black ice and random snowdrifts.

"Ok," Petra announced, "I found a hotel that takes adorable, perfectly behaved cuddle buddies."

"Think they'll make an exception in Emmy's case?" David chortled.

"Bite your tongue! How dare you talk like that about our baby!"

"She has woken me up three days running by imitating a proctologist with her extremely cold nose."

"She's cold!"

"Yeah," he grumbled. "I know. Freezing cold nose in my ass, remember?"

Petra turned around to pet Emmy, who was parked on a dog bed beneath the desk which gave her an unobscured view of the road ahead. "He's just teasing, girl. He still loves you. Right, David?"

"I guess," he sighed theatrically. "What was it you said about... Jesus Christ!"

"What!"

"Look! That asshole who blew by us lawn-darted into that embankment up ahead."

"In Tesla's name! We should stop and help them."

"You're right," he huffed as he started carefully slowing the van, "even if they're the architects of their own suffering. Listen, you and Emmy stay inside. There's going to be cops, and they're as likely as not to ask for I. D.'s. If you stay out of sight, they might not ask any questions we don't want to answer."

"Should I call emergency services?"

David brought the van to a halt a comfortable distance from the smoking wreckage before replying. "I'd better do it. That way they won't wonder what happened to the woman with the voice of an angel."

"Promise you'll be careful?"

"I've got a hell of a good reason to make sure nothing happens to any of us, honey. Just stay in the back. I'll be back as soon as possible."

With that, he grabbed his cold-weather gear and leapt from the van, all the while hoping that the optimistic overtaker had not made his final mistake.

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

"Can you believe that guy!" David seethed as they exited the hotel lobby and stepped back into the frigid evening air of the largest city in north-eastern Wyoming. "I mean... how dare he cast judgment on Emmy like that. I swear, if we had any other options, I'd say fuck this place."

"Strictly speaking, he didn't take issue with Emmy specifically."

"He explicitly said they had a no pit bull policy. That's such bullshit!"

"Good thing Emmy's a... I'm sorry, I couldn't really make out what you told him back there."

"American bulldog, boxer mix."

"Where'd you come up with that one?"

"Did you not read Emmy's discharge paperwork from the vet in Kansas? That's how she listed Emmy's breed. I guess the prejudice against pit bulls is pretty prevalent. It just really pisses me off that people would assume that she's anything other than a complete sweetheart."

"Wasn't it just two hours ago that you were cursing her name for nosing your hiney?"

"What an appalling way to put it," he snickered. "You truly have a gift when it comes to linguistics, my love."

"I try," she murmured. As they neared the van, she added, "I can't tell you how happy it makes me to hear you stick up for Emmy, David. It's like, just when I think you couldn't possibly be any more perfect, you do something else to surprise me in the best possible way."

He shrugged and said, "It was the right thing to do."

"Speaking of the right thing to do, did you hear from the state patrol yet?"

"Not yet, but they warned me that they'd only be able to update me if that fragging vacuum-skull allows it due to privacy laws."

"Doesn't he know that you saved his life?"

"I'd wager that he's not the type to allow the wants and needs of others to influence his thinking. He seemed far more concerned with the location of his phone, and the fact that he totaled his car, than he was on how many people braved the elements to pull him from said vehicle and keep him from succumbing to hypothermia until the ambulance arrived."

"Well... look at it this way, he won't be getting his prick slurped tonight by a big-teated blonde who's madly in love with him, whereas you most certainly will."

David playfully looked skyward before stroking his chin in a contemplative fashion. "You know... I should have mentioned that to him while he was screaming about how much the hoodie the paramedic cut off of him cost. I think it really would have helped his mood."

"That would have been amazing."

The couple hurried through the process of hooking Emmy up to her leash and collecting the items they wanted to move into the hotel room. David was shocked by how much they decided was indispensable, considering how sparse an existence he had maintained until quite recently. Their lack of suitcases also meant that he wound up carrying their belongings into the hotel room wrapped in a blanket, something he found far less objectionable when Petra was forced to reach into his pocket to retrieve his keys so she could lock the van.

"David," she asked worriedly, "it looks like places are closing early."

"Then we should get something to eat before it's too late. Unless you want to eat in the van again."

"I adore your cooking. You know that. But I think I'd much prefer someone else do the work tonight. Assuming we can afford it."

"I concur."

"You're not angry at being made to wait before we finally get to shower together?"

"We have forever to live out our fantasies together, not to mention all night. Right now, I feel the need to get my beautiful girlfriend fed."

"Can we get drinks too, if I promise to not overindulge?"

"You are welcome to overindulge if that's what you want. I'll even promise to take care of you."

"I still haven't properly repaid you for the last time."

"I have no intention of keeping score, Petra."

"Does that mean you don't want to teat-frag me in the shower after dinner until you spurt all over my face?"

"Not sure that last part is my cup of tea, but the rest sounds pretty awesome."

"Then it's decided. We'll go to dinner, and have one drink, then we'll come back to the room and I'll see what I can do about erasing the memory of what I did the last time I drank. Sound good?"

He sighed with feigned weariness and said, "I guess so."

Once she got the door to their room open, he stepped inside and dumped the bundle he carried onto one of the beds. It took only a moment, however, for his eyes to lock in on the pillows, which were not quite as thick as a deck of playing cards.

"Aw, hell no," he grumbled.

"What's wrong?"

"Those freakin' bath mats masquerading as pillows are not going to cut it for the woman I love. Why don't I run back to the van and grab ours?"

"Ok," she replied with a wide smile. "Why don't I see if I can get Emmy to do her business so we don't have to take her out again when we get back from dinner?"

"Sounds good. Be thinking about where you want to go to eat."

He started the return trip to the van, but Petra brought him up short with a word.

"David?"

He stopped and spun around before asking, "What'd I do?"

"You haven't kissed me all day. Did I do something..."

David asked silent forgiveness for interrupting her, and received reassurance that all was forgiven in the guise of her soft moan infused their kiss.

When their lips parted, she breathed, "Better."

He stole another quick peck before murmuring, "Be right back."

"I really fragging love you, handsome."

"I love you more."

The smile on David's face as he strolled toward the van was so different from the dour expression that had been his default mask for the preceding eighteen months that he likely would not have recognized himself in the mirror. He was happy in a way that only those who have truly reckoned with the depths of despair could possibly appreciate. Had he possessed the requisite grace, he likely would have danced a jig, or clicked his heels. But, since he had none, he settled for whistling a forgotten tune his mother had often listened to as he approached the van.

The tune, and his merriment, vanished in an instant when an authoritative voice barked, "Freeze! You're under arrest!"

~ ≈ ≡ ≈ ~

Copyright © 2026 Jake Lazarus

All rights reserved.

This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the author (except for the use of brief quotations in a review).

This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, business, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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