In this weather, it’s seems like a good idea to me to stay indoors. So many activities to be done in the warmth of home rather than venturing out in bitter cold temperatures. Watch a good movie or the Olympics. Have a nooner with your lover. Read a good book. Read a good short story.
A short story? you ask. Sure! A short story certainly won’t take up your whole day, but that’s part of the appeal of them. It’s a few bites of enjoyment, rather than a huge feast that takes hours and hours to eat.
This wild winter weather reminds me of one of my erotic short stories: “Yielding No More.” In this story, a huge, blinding snowstorm arrives to an area and brings traffic to a halt on the highway.
Stuck in the traffic jam, two strangers meet. One of them — Patrick — has run out of gas and is simply trying to stay warm, so he asks the driver of another car to stay and just warm up. Relying on the kindness of a stranger, if you will. The driver — Ellen — is definitely cautious, but lets her guard down as she warms up to the charming and funny Patrick. And then, they head to the backseat and find a way to heat things up without using the car’s heater.
This is, after all, an erotic story. Hot things are going to happen!
An excerpt from early in the story:
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Cars are supposed to race merrily along the highway, wheels blurring in forward progression, yielding to cars from entrance ramps, and slowly curving onto exit ramps. The whole flux of the highway has gone screwy. We’re yielding no more.
Snow falls so heavily, I wonder if it will ever stop. As it accumulates on the windshield, I get the sinking feeling of drowning in a frozen lake. A worse death I can’t imagine. First you hear the ice crack, then you slip through, plunging into teeth-clattering cold water, lost in the darkness, pounding on the unyielding ice ceiling, tiny bubbles fluttering from your unheard cries for help.
But that’s bullshit thinking. I crack the icy silence. “I wish I had some cards. We could play some poker. You could whip my ass and take all my money.”
Ellen frowns at me. “Poke her? I don’t even know her.”
Then a second excerpt, a bit later on:
“How hot is it?” she asks, becoming a more rambunctious audience.
I peek at her. She has a little grin. But her peepers are closed. Good.
“Oh, it’s hot,” I answer. “Ferocious hot. Tropical hot. Heat pounds into our skin. Sweat drips from us.”
“What’re we wearing?” Her voice is soft.
“Um, I’ve got on black swim trunks. And you’re wearing… um… a bright red swimsuit.”
“I don’t look good in bright red. Wrong skin tone.”
Grrr. “Okay, not red. Silver, then. Yes, silver. It glitters in the sunlight.”
“Bikini or one piece?”
Uh-oh. In a month-long second, I try to figure out the consequences of either answer, and end up deciding to go for broke. “Um… bikini. So you can feel the sun on your stomach. But I’m not looking at you. My eyes are closed. Shut as tight as a bank vault.”
“Why aren’t you looking at me?”
Also, this story is included in my collection, Orpheus Rising: Erotic Stories of Hooking Up, along with 5 other stories. Also available at Amazon for Kindle and Barnes & Noble for Nook. At $2.99, you’ll save some cash rather than buying all the stories individually.
Plus, there’s more reading in there to heat things up for you in this cold winter! Stay warm and be safe and sexy!