Once I had the fire well established, I set a tin cup filled with water and a single tea bag on the stove’s open top. About ten minutes later the liquid was at a rolling boil.
“You might want to let it cool down a bit before drinking,” I warned Alice as I handed her the cup after retrieving the tea bag and splashing a bit of ice water on the cup’s handle so she wouldn’t burn her fingers or hand. “Care for any sugar?”
Alice shook her head, no, and smiled for the first time since we received our radio warning. “Thank you,” she said as she took the steaming mug of tea from my hands. “Thank you very much,” she whispered as she leaned forward and kissed my cheek.
I used the recycled tea bag to make my own cup of tea. Waste not, want not.
The air temperature inside the tent was a friendly 65 or 70 degrees and worked in partnership with the steaming tea to take the chill of winter away, at least for the moment.
We decided to skip dinner to conserve our food supply. We would eat in the morning.
Turning off the lantern to conserve its battery, I was startled to see how cozy and romantic our setting was, as long as you left snakes out of the picture. The light from the dying embers of our fire painted the interior of the tent with a sexy, warm rose-colored glow. Our joined sleeping bags and Alice’s sweet kiss hinted at all sorts of possibilities.
That’s it! I scolded myself, I am officially stupid. What kind of fucking idiot thinks about sex at a time like this?”
“Come on Dennis, we need to get undressed and under the covers, before it gets cold again,” Alice leaned her head on my shoulder.
“Undressed?” I raised an eyebrow and gave my hunting partner an inquiring look.
“Of course, silly man, how else do we share body heat? Do you know another way we can avoid hypothermia,” Alice nuzzled and hugged me tightly.
“Besides, it’ll be fun,” Alice gave me another hug, longer than the last.
In an effort to protect my honor, I started to protest and instead burst out laughing as I thought of an old joke.
“What’s so funny?” she asked as she lifted her head from my shoulder and looked into my eyes for signs of rejection.
“Nothing. Our current circumstances remind me of a funny story I heard years ago. It goes something like this: Once upon a time, a terrible storm forced a beautiful maiden and a traveling judge to take shelter for the night in an abandoned cabin. To pass the time, and to stay warm, the young girl offered her honor. The judge honored her offer. All night long, His Honor was on her and off her,” I laughed.
“OK, I’ll strip down to my underwear, and you do the same, deal?” I rose to my knees and accepted her hand as she helped me to my feet. My knees were high mileage, and they sucked. Such is life.
“OK, you’ve got yourself a deal. You go first,” Alice’s smile widened into a silly grin as she fired up the lantern and held it aloft, “Showtime.”
I took off my jacket and spread it open on the sleeping bag. Alice watched quietly, her eyes wrinkled in puzzlement and curiosity. I removed my flannel shirt, folded it neatly, and placed it in the center of my jacket. I dug my Bic lighter and a half-full cigarette pack out of my pocket and deposited them next to my jacket. Moments later, my folded trousers joined the shirt in the center of my coat.
Dancing from one foot to the other with Alice’s hands steadying me, my boots took their place at the foot of our bed. I draped my socks over the tops of my boots to air out, might as well start the next day with dry footwear.
Dressed only in my tighty-whities and a tee shirt I knelt down, folded my coat into a pillow with my clothing as stuffing, and placed it at the head of the bed. As far as headrests went, my improvised bundle was more comfortable than a few of the crappy motel pillows I had slept upon over the years.
“Very inventive,” Alice smiled as she removed her coat and mimicked my creation as she constructed her own pillow.
When she was finished, she stood hunched in the circle of light from the lantern, barefoot from her toes to her chin.
“No underwear?” I nodded my head toward her midsection.
“This is my underwear; it’s called Poils pubis el natural part of my French heritage,” she explained.
“I don’t speak French. Want to try that again in English?” I asked.
“Pubiens el natural is just a fancy way of saying, natural pubic hair,” Alice answered with a chuckle.
“I thought you were Polish,” I observed.
“I’m both. This is French fur over a Polish pussy,” she giggled as she twirled like a clumsy ballet dancer.
I couldn’t keep myself from smiling at her amazing recovery. Not too many women got a chance to go from nearly comatose with fear to saucy, seductive, and sexy all in the same day.
“Ladies first,” I held up a corner of the sleeping bag.
“Yikes! It’s an ice box,” Alice gasped as she slid between the covers.
“Get your ass in here, I’m freezing,” she said while pulling me down to my knees.
Grabbing my smokes and lighter, I slid them under my pillow and parked the lantern within easy reach on my side of our sleeping bag. I gathered our flashlights together and handed her one while I tucked the other under my coat. The last thing we wanted to do was to wake up in total darkness and play blind man’s bluff searching for a flashlight in pitch-blackness.
“Good God! You weren’t kidding,” I grumbled. The interior of the sleeping bag was not much warmer than the surface of an ice cube.
Within seconds, Alice was all over me like an octopus. She pulled me into a spooning position with the cheeks of my ass pressed into her crotch and her arms wrapped around my chest, and her breasts pressed tightly against my back. She tangled our legs together and rested her chin on my shoulder as she wielded her naked body to mine in the most intense sensual hug I’ve ever experienced. The only thing missing was super glue.
In a few minutes, we were toasty warm. The human body is a remarkable heat engine capable of generating as much as 2,400 BTUs of body heat per hour when engaged in strenuous work or passionate sex. When we’re at rest or sleeping, our heat production drops to a cool 315 BTUs an hour. On average, we generate the same amount of heat as a 100-watt light bulb.
“I’m going to kill the light to save the battery. Be sure you know the location of your flashlight.” With a click, I plunged us into the heart of total darkness. Suddenly we were in a blackout so intense we are unable to tell if our eyes are open or shut. It is true when we lose our sight our other senses kick into high gear to compensate for the loss of vision. The sound of our breathing and the crinkling rustle of our fabric sleeping bag seemed to grow louder as the night smothered the light.
We could just as well have been two blind mice exploring each other in a lightless world. We could only “see” what we touched. As we nestled together, my sense of touch also kicked into high gear. I could feel Alice’s stiff nipples poking me in the back as she pulled me tightly to her body. She shifted her position and tightened her hold on me. It was as if she was trying to crawl inside of me, her octopus grip became the embrace of a boa constrictor, almost painful in its intensity.
I relaxed my body and allowed myself to melt into her embrace. She radiated body heat like a furnace, and her warm moisture laden breath tickled the side of my neck each time she exhaled. As her breathing slowed, we slipped into the twilight of comfortable togetherness.
I must have dozed off for a few moments when I became aware that something had changed. The effortless exchange of carbon dioxide for oxygen became a long labored sobbing, which shook her whole body. I could feel her tears trickling down my neck.
“I’m so sorry Dennis. This is entirely my fault. We’re going to die, and I’ll never see my daughter again. I should have heeded the storm warning on the radio, I’m so terribly sorry,” she cried as her words gave voice to the fear I felt.
Turning over to face her, I touched her face with my fingertips and brushed her tears away as I whispered, “You are right. We and the emphases is on we, should have listened to the warning. This is not all your fault. It is our fault. You made a bad call, and I let it stand. I also own this blunder. I was your partner and junior member of this hunting party, and I failed to speak up,” I kissed her cheek, tasting the salt of her tears.
“We’re not dead yet. We got into this mess together, and we’ll get out of this mess together,” I held her to my body and caressed her hair as sleep slowed her breathing. Far away from the edge of hearing, the muffled lullaby of the wind became a song of despair.
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