Warmth in the Snow Pt. 01

"Diane..."

"Just cum, dammit. I don't care. Fuck..." With her permission, I couldn't hang on one more moment. Her heels digging into the back of my thighs were more than an invitation. They were a demand. In the moment of completion, I stretched my neck upwards, a silent, triumphant celebration of the moment. The strain of pleasure, the stretching of the moment for as long as possible. Finally, the exhausted collapse onto her, the soft pillowy comfort of her breasts and the beating of her satisfied heart. And, finally, a mutual realization. Diane spoke first.

"We've been really, really bad."

There were no confidences shared after the act, just a soft kiss followed by a deep and dreamless sleep. Except this time, Diane didn't sleep with her back to me, and there were no pajamas.

The cold woke me. That and sensation of Diane tasting me in the gray light of dawn. We made love again, less urgently now. More a steady rhythm, her on top, a savoring of the moment. As we finished. I heard the beep of the alarm clock, the deep rumblings of a furnace somewhere in the inn spurred to life. I considered mentioning the fact, but she was lost in the act, the blanket discard along with our inhibitions. Finally, a shudder deep within us. A guttural exhale, and it was now her turn to collapse into me. Lying there, we both knew our night was over. We were now back in the realm of light.

Breakfast was served at eight. The inn owner, Clara, bustled about, apologizing for the delay due to the power outage. Her husband fiddled with the satellite dish and cursed, not realizing how much I detest morning television. No, don't worry about. Really. I'm fine without the news. It's okay. Diane looked on with mild amusement.

It was the first emotion I had seen from her that morning. Earlier, she had risen from bed, slipped on her t-shirt, gathered some clothes from her suitcase and shut the bathroom door, as if modesty had been restored between us. I heard the shower run as she washed away the sins of the night before. I took my turn as she dried her hair in the mirror. She simply nodded when I suggested going down for breakfast. But now, she smiled, if only slightly.

"Damned satellite. I shouldn't've switched from cable. Don't know how we'll watch Fox News." The other guests mostly ignored the old man, exchanging comments about the weather and how they made it through the storm. "So how did you sleep last night?" the inn owner chirped.

"Like a log," Diane piped up.

"You must have a clear conscience." To that, she merely laughed.

The roads were mostly clear. We packed and zipped up our suitcases. I carried them both downstairs to the desk.

"Same card?" asked the hotel owner.

"Yes. Wait, hold on." I looked at Diane. She cocked her head, raised her eyebrows. "Can you bill me for two rooms?"

"What?" He looked at me, then Diane, as the truth slowly dawned on him.

"Sure. No problem. We're flexible."

Steam from the McDonalds coffee rose in the sunlight as I drove up the interstate. Not fast, maybe sixty miles an hour, for there were patches of ice on the freeway, not to mention plenty of cautious drivers. We drove in silence for a good fifteen minutes until Diane cleared her throat.

"Okay. We have some things to talk about."

"Yeah. I was just giving you some space."

"Thanks. You're a gentleman that way. How do you feel about what happened?"

"Um...I don't really regret it."

"You don't feel guilty?"

"Weirdly no. Let's wait until I get home to be sure."

"Me too. Huh. Is this an affair?"

"I've never thought of having one."

"Never. I've daydreamed."

"Me too. I'm just going to admit it. I've daydreamed about you."

"Yeah. Me too."

"So what are we going to do about this?" I stalled, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel.

"Well, one thing's for sure. We can't unburden guilty consciences to our spouses."

"Fuck no."

"You cussed again."

"God. Look what you've done to me." She opened a tin of Altoids and plucked out a mint. "Look. Um. I think we've always had this chemistry, wouldn't you agree?"

"Definitely."

"But we've never done anything about it."

"Right?"

"I think this should be a one-time thing. Okay?" I didn't reply. "Okay?"

"You're right."

"I know I'm right. Me. The wife of a Baptist minister. Okay, youth minister. But still."

"Yeah. So what about..."

"What about what."

"You know...the..."

"Oh...The protection? God, I don't know. Hope for the best. It wasn't a good time. Mark wanted another kid. I didn't really. He just um..."

"What?"

"...Just a feeling." A long pause. "Having another baby wouldn't make it better for us. I shouldn't have said that."

"I think we're way past secrets like that by now. I kind of knew you were struggling. Nothing you said."

"You're right. Guess I'll pray on this. But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You and Carla."

"Oy. It's a good marriage. I never dreamed I'd do what we did last night."

"I don't want to be a homewrecker."

"Yeah. So we'll just not do anything about it. Okay?"

"Okay."

I arrived home. Carla was ready with fire, wine, and a peck on the cheek. Jack and Nell were on the sofa, him telling some long-winded story about a fishing trip on the Gulf. Meanwhile, there was a lack of interest in my own adventure in the snow. I was too tired to listen. So I pattied out hamburgers in the kitchen, knowing our guests wouldn't take the hint and go home any time soon.

At work that Monday, we picked up where things were before that night. Except the occasional 'shit' in the course of conversation. And one button undone more than necessary. Across the table at staff meeting, I caught her looking at me. I glanced back, and we smiled.

She would not smile two weeks later. I was editing a report when Diane walked into my office the first thing on Monday morning, closing the door behind her. I looked up. She was a wreck.

"Mark's been fired." I slowly capped my pen, put it down on the desk.

"What?"

"You heard me. He's been fired."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Just wait. It gets worse."

"What?"

"'Inappropriate conduct.' Like with one of his counselors. He moved in with his parents this weekend."

"Oh, God. So sorry."

"Well, I had a feeling. I hadn't really mentioned it before. I think that's why I...why I needed that night. Feel guilty yet?"

"Hasn't sunk in."

"Good. Cause I have some other news."

"Uh oh." I already knew.

"I'm going to be needing maternity leave sometime in October."

"Is it official?"

"No. But I took the test."

I sighed.

"Wow."

"Yeah."

Long moments passed. Outside, I could hear the bustle of the office. Phones ringing. Conversations in the hallway. People oblivious to the catastrophe unfolding on our side of the door. She sat patiently. I knew what she was thinking. This certainly wasn't just her problem. Finally, she spoke up.

"Don't worry."

"What?"

"I'm not going to tell anyone."

"I'm still processing here."

"I know you are. But you need to know that. The last thing I want anyone to know is that I'm carrying your child. You look enough like Mark."

"You're being awfully detached about this."

"Yeah, I know. Maybe it just hasn't hit me yet. But I do know one thing. I don't want to be known as the woman who got knocked up by the boss."

"Well, first thing's first. I guess you're getting a raise."

"I'd appreciate that."

"Overdue. And that has nothing to do with this."

"Right."

"Well, a little."