Disclaimer: The characters depicted in this story are of my own creation and any
resemblance to characters from Xena: Warrior Princess is not meant to infringe on the
rights of Studio USA or Renaissance Pictures and is purely for entertainment purposes
only.
Subtext Disclaimer: This story refers to a loving relationship between two consenting
adults, who happen to be of the same sex. If this offends you, or you are under 18 years
of age, or you reside in an area where this type of material is illegal, read no more.
There is plenty of general fanfic out there for you. Go find it.
Please send all comments to asdease1@gte.net
Enjoy, I hope.
HAPPY CAPTIVES
Written by FlyBigD
As each unique flake descended, indistinguishable in it’s singular fragility, it lent
itself to the formidable swirling cascade raising the opaque horizon. A world disguised in
varying shades of white reflected in grey-green eyes. Momentarily obscured by their
encasement of long blonde lashes, the twin orbs returned to gaze upon the compounding
monochrome landscape. Mesmerized by the totality of white, Coy watched as winter’s
fury buffeted a leafless forest. Separated from the snowy chaos by a thin pane of glass,
she stood at the window listening to mother nature howl out her anger and felt it’s
icy chill seep through the protective barrier. “God. We’re not going to be able
to get out for days.” Her whispered words creating a small patch of fog on the glass,
she continued to stare outward in apprehensive awe.
Across the room, Cole sat lengthwise on a green paisley sofa watching her wife as intently
as Coy watched the storm. Caught up in the beauty of the shadowy silhouette, an
unconscious smile played across her lips, while her fingers ran through soft hair the
color of a golden halo. Gently stroking her son’s sleeping head as it rested in her
lap, she stared at his mother with a serenity bordering on reverent wonder. Ever amazed at
how the mere sight of Coy could invoke a surreal warmth within her, Cole studied her wife
through crystal blue eyes, biased in their appraisal. Though hidden beneath an oversized
navy blue sweatshirt, which was initially purchased to augment Cole’s wardrobe and
then blatantly misappropriated, and a pair of jeans so worn they threatened to
disintegrate with every wash, Coy’s subtle contours could still be seen.
Shorter than Cole’s long leggy body, Coy’s compactness contrasted her natural
grace, giving her a statuesque stature without the necessity of height normally associated
with the term. A true contradiction to behold, she was fluidity wrapped around an
underlying strength. From the ground up, her body radiated a subliminal power, yet
maintained a definitive softness. Calves and thighs well muscled from years of pursuing
unattainable heights in her leisure time, she stood as solidly as the mountains she
climbed. Her hips, merging the power below with the power above, curved outward slightly
in a rounded outline reminiscent of a well crafted hour glass. Upward still, a narrow
waist gave way to a sculptured back and torso fraught with a muted salient sensuality.
From there the paradox continued with shoulders, arms and hands capable of bearing twice
her weight up the side of a sheer cliff by her finger tips, only to be transformed into a
passionate embrace, or in an instant becoming a gentle cradle with which to soothe a
frightened child. And then, as a cherry is placed atop a masterpiece of ice creamy
delights, Coy’s face was the apex of the outward beauty that lay below it. Blonde
hair framing pale skin, lightly freckled across a button nose. Cheeks, round and high,
ever tempting to be blushed. Lips full, pink and soft, and perpetually inviting a kiss.
Gray-green eyes sparkling like evergreen leaves moistened in an early morning dew that had
captured Cole’s undivided attention from the outset. The gates to Coy’s soul
accentuated the visage of playful innocence and eluded to deeper understanding.
Wanting to continue her assessment with a discourse on her wife’s inner beauty, which
included compassion, kindness, tenderness and a plethora of other admirable qualities, and
to explore the conversely irritating ones of tenacity, stubbornness and the a fore
mentioned affinity for misappropriation of comfortable clothing, Cole was interrupted from
her pending revelry by a series of muffled grumblings very close to her ear. Regretting
having to do so, she looked away, turning her head to the left to watch as their daughter
worked her disgruntled way to consciousness.
Holding Brin on her shoulder with one arm, she marveled at the obvious inherent disdain
for waking exhibited in a two year old face that could pass for her own at that age, since
loathing waking up was one of Coy’s distinct personality traits. To the point of
preferring to sleep on Cole’s shoulder over something more comfortable, her daughter
fulfilled the embodiment of her wife’s persona down to the smallest detail. On the
other hand, Nick was the spitting image of Coy and was the personification of Cole in the
form of a two year old boy. As if they’d been reincarnated into each other’s
body, there was no question as to who their children belonged to, if explaining that fact
left listeners more than a little bewildered, which did not exclude the twins
grandparents. But that was a story to be told when Cole wasn’t covered by a pair of
napping toddlers on the verge of becoming non-napping tummies wanting to be filled.
“Coy.” Cole said softly, returning her attention to her wife.
Gently broken out of her snowy hypnosis, Coy sighed as she turned away from the world
outside. Absently running her fingers through her short blonde hair, she shivered, shaking
off the lingering tendrils of cold that had permeated her clothing and her body. Her
features marked by an expression derived from a growing apprehension she’d developed
while at the window, she shook that off as well when a pout ridden face appeared beside
Cole’s smiling one. “Oh no. I know that come hither look.” Keeping the
identity of which brunette she was referring to in doubt, she closed the distance to both
with a secretive smile. Leaving disclosure to the last possible moment, she bent down
placing a kiss on Cole’s lips while lifting Brin into her arms. Cradling her daughter
against her shoulder as her wife had, Coy sat down on the coffee table in front of the
couch to check on Nick’s progress. Not surprisingly, she found him wide awake and in
true Cole fashion, apparently waiting for someone to take notice. “I see you, mister.
You can’t fool me. You’re not sleeping.” Reaching out, she tapped his nose
with the end of her finger, eliciting a boyish giggle from her son.
“What? He’s awake?” Cole asked in mock dismay at having been hoodwinked.
Taking her son by the shoulders, she gave his small body a thorough imitation thrashing.
“You little faker. I thought you were still asleep. I could’ve been half way to
Kooka Monga by now, if you hadn’t been lolly gagging all over my legs. Get off me,
you little freeloader. Off, off, off.” Making a feigned attempt at tossing Nick by
wiggling her legs, Cole grunted and groaned dramatically, pulling not too harshly on him,
when he encircled her right thigh with his arms and refused to budge. “Give it up,
wonder boy. You’re no match for the likes of me. Errrrrrrrrrrrr.”
Coy chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Just what I needed. A ring side seat for the
grudge match of the century.” She said sarcastically and stood to move out of harms
way. “You two keep working up an appetite and I’ll see what I can find in the
way of sustenance.” Resettling Brin on her hip, she left the ruckus of the living
room for the relative quiet of the kitchen. “Okay. What’s on the menu for today?
Belay that.” Making a quick correction, Coy shook her head. “What’s the
easiest thing to fix? Oh, yes. That sounds much more appealing.” Nodding in self
agreement, she began opening and subsequently closing oak stained cabinet doors in her
search for the quintessential quick meal. Taking half steps sideways, she worked her way
around the horseshoe shaped room to no avail. Delayed in her task, but undaunted by her
failure, she deposited Brin on the dark blue counter. “You sit there and I’ll
check what’s in the fridge. How does that sound?”
One tiny finger tugging at the side of her mouth, Brin lowered her head, with it’s
sudden woeful expression. “Mama.” She said in a voice almost too soft to hear.
Coy’s shoulders slumped visibly inside the sweatshirt. As much as Nick was a
rambunctious little boy determined to redefine the terrible in terrible two’s, his
sister wasn’t. Although entirely capable of defending herself when pressed, Brin
preferred being held after waking than being wrestled with. A trait she inherited
honestly, Coy recognized the same basic need for security she often felt and never found
lacking in Cole’s reassuring arms. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll check
the fridge together. Up you go.”
Raising her head, Brin held out her arms expectantly and was lifted into two stronger
ones. Laying her head on the soft material covering Coy’s shoulder, she nuzzled her
forehead into the curve at the base of her neck. Sighing contentedly, she watched the
world go by from the comfort of a loving embrace.
**********
The quintessential quick meal, also known as dinner, turned out to be less quick than
planned and was acquired from multiple source, and prepared once Brin had been held to her
satisfaction. Then she was placed on the counter to assist her mother with putting the
meal in order by clapping her hands when the toast popped out of the toaster. And for this
invaluable service, she was awarded a piece of toast, properly cooled for her safety to
sate her craving and a kiss to the forehead. Finding the latter as pleasurable as the
former, she continued to happily oversee the operation, munching on her toast until it
came time to move along to the next phase, when her services were called upon again. This
time, rather than clapping her hands, Brin used them to carefully carry a plate out of the
kitchen into the dining room. Followed closely behind by Mama, who carried the other three
plates, she successfully maneuvered around obstacles much larger than she was and came to
a halt beside the dining table. Raising her plate in victory, it was removed from her
grasp soon after and placed out of sight. Now toastless and plateless, she gazed up at the
towering figure holding her empty hands skyward in the universal sign for wanting to be
picked up. “Mama.”
Needing no secret decoder ring for this one, Coy none the less shook her head. Pointing in
the direction of the living room where peals of boisterous laughter coupled with
intermittent threats of bodily harm. “You go get Mom and Nick, and I’ll get the
rest of the stuff. Can you do that for me, please?” There was a quick nod before a
dark curly haired little girl dashed off to bring the fray to an abrupt end and return
with the combatants in tow. “Thank you.” Coy said after the fact and went about
fulfilling her end of the bargain.
The combatants as they were, were unaware of the fast approaching end to their fun.
Tangled in a mass of human flesh, Cole was manifesting all the outward appearances of
someone being crushed under a insurmountable weight. Flat on her back, arms and legs
flailing about, she was giving a splendid performance while Nick made valiant attempts at
portraying the insurmountable weight, much to his infantile delight. After suffering
innumerable belly blasts, he’d gained a foothold on supremacy by taking advantage of
a miscalculation on the part of his opponent and leapt off the coffee table onto
Cole’s back when she knelt down to tie her nonexistent shoe. Ending their hastily
made truce in the process, he then put forth the monumental effort required to maintain
his precarious hold on victory. This translated into wrapping his arms around her neck and
growling furiously until she fell over. Then it was only a matter of time before his
superior skills overwhelmed the waylaid warrior.
These events occurred rather quickly and only minutes before the bearer of bad timing came
whizzing around the couch to dispense with formalities by delivering a simple, yet
effective message. “Mama say come.” Assuming a stance she’d seen Mama use
in similar circumstances, Brin put one hand on her hip and shook the other one to
emphasize the seriousness of her instructions. “Git up, Mom. Nick off. Mama say
come.” Unfortunately for Brin, her message went completely unnoticed, so she reverted
to less unobtrusive tactics. Charging at full speed, she plowed into her brother, thereby
knocking him off Mom and winning half the battle in one swoop. Then she grabbed a handful
of Mom’s shirt and began tugging on it. “Git up. Git up.”
Cole was too distracted in her performance to react to the assault before it occurred.
Taken off guard momentarily when her son was forcibly removed from her mid-section, she
recovered in the successive moment to prevent the retaliatory attack sure to follow.
“Whoa, Nick. Hold up. No you don’t.” Sitting up just as Nick stood and set
forth to extract his repayment, she grabbed him mid-stride lifting his legs off the ground
as she, herself, ascended.
Nick strained within his captivity, emitting his rage in guttural growls. Wiggling his
body, his glare focused on his sister.
Brin was oblivious to the animosity raining from above because she was preoccupied with
getting Mom into the dining room to accomplished the remaining portion of her allotted
mission. Though her oblivion was complete, her anonymity was to be short lived as her
persistent tugging on Mom’s jeans would prove her eventual downfall.
“Nick, stop it. Calm down. Nick, now. Stop.” Cole said in a commanding parental
tone that broached her son’s anger enough for his body to still, though his
determination never wavered. Holding him tightly in two arms, she altered it to an one
armed embrace, shifting his body to her right, away from his sister. Once he was settled,
she looked down at the object of his obsession. “Brin, stop that.”
Hearing her name, Brin gained sufficient attention to repeat her message. Staring up she
delivered it with a complementary smile. “Mama say come.”
“Okay. I’m coming.” Uttering the statement as a heavy sigh, Cole gave the
obligatory nod to send her daughter running off to announce the upcoming arrival, but Brin
didn’t move. She continued to stand where she was, presumably awaiting either further
instructions, or further proof to Mom’s sincerity. Another sigh echoed as Cole
followed her miniature double to wherever Mama had said to come to. Adjusting her stride
as to not overtake her guide, Cole shook her head all the way into the dining room.
In the interim, Coy had nearly finished what she’d set out to do and entered the from
the kitchen side of the open dining room carrying two glasses of milk when her spouse and
two children came in from the other side. As she set the glasses down, her eyes fell on
the two unhappy looking faces visible above the table, paying particular attention to
Nick’s scowl. “What’s wrong with him?” Her concern moving her around
the small circular table, she side stepped the yet unknown source of his baleful
expression.
“Your little juggernaut messenger knocked him for a loop and now he’s mad.”
Cole condensed with a roll of the eyes.
Coy blithely put her hands on her hips and found the little juggernaut standing next to
her left leg with an unwitting smile. “Did you hit Nick?”
Suddenly crestfallen, Brin took Mama’s dower expression to mean that she’d done
something wrong and was too innocent to guile her way out of retribution. Nodding, she
lowered her head, leaning dejectedly into Coy’s leg.
“Brin, you know you’re not supposed to hit.” She reminded sternly.
“You know the rules. You can play with each other, but nobody is allowed to hit and
that includes knocking him down. Do you understand?”
Brin slumped even further. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you mean to hurt him?” Coy asked in a curious, but quieter voice.
A curly brunette head shook imperceptibly. “No, ma’am.”
“Okay.” Bringing her eyes up, Coy looked directly at her son. “Are you
hurt?”
Nick shook his head, but remained silent.
“He’s fine.” Cole answered for him. “I think she startled him more
than anything else. I know it did me and it’s not all her fault.” Feeling as
sorry as Brin was, Mom spoke up in her defense. “We were playing so loud, I
didn’t hear her come in and I didn’t have a chance to intervene before she
rammed him.” Shifting Nick more to the front of her body, she rubbed his back with
her free hand.
“That’s all well and good, but ramming people is not an acceptable way to get
their attention.” Softening despite her words, Coy squatted down, then arose with
Brin in her arms. Using an authoritative tone tempered with compassion, she raised her
daughter’s chin with one finger. “Brin, you can’t do that anymore.”
“No, ma’am.” She said quietly, her face showing all the remorse she felt
inside as she turned to make it known to her slighted brother. “I sorry, Nick. No
more.”
Nick accepted the apology by laying his head on Mom’s shoulder.
With the matter suitably settled, Cole turned her eyes to where her nose had been since
entering. “So, what’s for dinner anyway?” She asked with a light-hearted
candor and surveyed the small array of bowls and plates cluttering the top of the small
table. “Oooooo. My favorite dinner. Breakfast of Champions.”
Coy rolled her eyes and smiled, her demeanor changing to the lighter side as well. “I
forgot to take anything out to thaw this morning, so it was either this, or four bowls of
corn flakes. I thought you might prefer something hot, all things considered.” She
said in apology for the selection of cuisine
“Works for me.” Cole admitted her appreciation openly. The chair she normally
occupied directly in front of her, she pulled it out and adjusted her hold on Nick to
accommodate the boy remaining in her lap as she sat. Knowing the answer to her upcoming
question before it was asked, the animated search before hand was for her wife’s
benefit. “Where’s the ketchup?” She asked looking to Coy with feigned
consternation.
Catching Cole’s affected presentation out of the corner of her eye, Coy had Brin in
her high chair and was getting ready to take her own chosen place when the not wholly
unexpected question came. But rather than taking the bait offered so pretentiously and
intended to incite a disgusted frenzy on her part, she simply smiled and sat down.
“The same place it always is and where it’s going to stay. In the refrigerator.
Could you please pass the hash browns?” Leaving Cole no time to interject or object,
she batted blonde eyelashes at the abrupt snarl distorting her wife’s upper lip and
extended her arm to take the bowl of shredded golden fried potatoes when it was grudgingly
placed in her hand. “Thank you.”
An insincere ‘welcome’ leaked it’s way from Cole’s lips in a
disgruntled grumble and she immediately began to mull over ways other ways to get a rise
out of Coy.
Coy, keenly aware that the battle was underway, went about the same musings, but in
reverse. A nightly ritual that had no real basis for existence, though a long history
going back to when they first started dating, the one upmanship over their evening meal
was something both women enjoyed immensely, although neither had ever been able to figure
out why. Tantamount to the age old struggle of angler versus fish, the objective was to
reel in the ultimate catch using only verbal irritation as bait and who was who depended
on who cast their line first. Tonight Cole had gotten her ketchup bait out first, which
was a tried and true lure, so she was the one now fishing around for an irksome statement
Coy would bite at. Coy was the fish. Her job was not to get hooked by anything Cole said,
no matter how irritating it might be and the rules were just as simple as the game.
In-laws were off limits, because they couldn’t be helped and you couldn’t say
anything hurtful.
Using the twins as bait was also against the rules, though they could be used as willing
accomplices. You could ask them questions meant to agitate your spouse. You could engage
them in casual covert conversation, albeit mostly one sided, meant to agitate your spouse.
Or you could merely entertain them with meaningless rhetoric meant to agitate your spouse.
And the twins were happy to cohort with their parents because even if they didn’t
understand most, if any of the veiled remarks assailing them, their childlike
comprehension did allow them to understand that they were important enough to be included.
Rather than falling into the stereotypical realm of the seen and not heard, Nick and Brin
eagerly added their giggles, wide assortment of expressions, perplexed interest and range
of vocabulary two year old minds could assimilate to their parents te de te in the same
spirit Cole and Coy practiced it. Harmless fun and nothing more, and the battle never
lasted longer than the meal. Once the food was consumed and hunger sated, the game ended
with all parties clearing the table without resentment, or an undercurrent of animosity no
matter if the fish had been reeled in masterfully, or if the angler never got a nibble.
So, that’s how dinner was spent. Cole dangling tempting tidbits while feeding herself
and Nick, and Coy eying them speculatively only to smile and change the subject as she ate
and fed Brin, to her wife’s frustration. True professionals in their chosen sport,
they were good sports too and by the time the dishes were cleaned, and put away, both
women had moved on to one of their other nightly rituals. Trying to survive two energetic
children with full tummies bent on avoiding being put down to bed until they collapsed
from exhaustion. Fortunately for Coy and Cole, they were still fairly young women with
limber bodies to contend the twins challenge and what they may have lacked in dexterity
was fortified with intelligence, which they had used to cunningly devise strategic
defenses over the past two years.
Essential to their well laid plan was teamwork. Sticking together was paramount as was
keeping the duo in your sights at all times. Toddlers only toddle when they’re tired
and all the other times they run around like tiny bolts of greased lightning making
containment difficult, but the alternative could result in finding an escapee with a
crayon up his or her nose, or worse. So foremost was finding ways to keep Brin and Nick
together, whether they wanted to be in each other’s company or not. The easiest way
to achieve this goal was by turning on the water in the tub and waiting for the sound to
reach mini eardrums that never failed to momentarily halt all action. Then it was off to
the races again as undersized clothes were doffed as quickly as possible so the swiftest
could horde all the best squeaky toys for them self and in turn pout piteously when they
were forced to hand over the spoils after a soliloquy on the benefits of sharing. Lesson
grudgingly learned until tomorrow, the sorrow was soon forgotten when both got to play
with their respective squeaky toys in bubbly bliss under the watchful gaze of Mom while
Mama was off selecting jammies. When Mama reappeared the fun really began as Cole and Coy
tried to apply the cleaning principle behind taking a bath onto the slippery naked bodies
of their children without becoming drenched themselves. The couple’s success rate
leaning heavily to the negative in this endeavor, they still managed on a nightly basis to
bathe, dry and dress Nick and Brin in their pajamas, thus sounding the bell to begin the
twins last stand against unconsciousness. Story time.
Just as the twins approached playing with riotous behavior, the reciprocal was true when
Mama started a story. Coy spinning adventures before their wide eyes, Nick and Brin sat
quietly on either side of Cole. Tensing and relaxing as the tale unfolded, their minds
were transported to imaginary unknown worlds where danger lurked, evil loomed and the only
the salvation lay in the hearts, and hands of the courageous few.
All for the amusement of her children and her wife, she used whatever props were available
to bring the vividness of her words to life. Wielding fire poker swords, shielding herself
with a cushion, making plans with invisible compatriots and vanquishing invisible foe, Coy
played every part in her stories. One moment she was a gruff, burly pessimistic troll,
hunched over from carrying his heavy battle axe with a voice low and gravely. And in the
next moment her body straightened to heights beyond her own as the venerable fair haired
elf whose sage like wit undermined the trolls down trodden influence on the weary band out
to defend their land from wicked one-eyed dragon endangering their homes, and the lives of
their loved ones in his treacherous fire breathing rampage.
On and on the tale was weaved in marveled detail until the villain died an agonizing death
or until Nick and Brin’s bodies slumped in peaceful slumber, their dreams already
picking up where Coy left off. Then they were transported once more. Gently lifted from
the couch one by one, they were cradled in their parent’s arms and carried off to the
beds they’d fought to avoid. Laid down as gently as they were lifted, they were
tucked in with warm smiles, soft kisses and loving words to keep them until the sun rose
tomorrow.
**********
The end of the day for Nick and Brin was not the end of the day for Cole and Coy. For them
the wake left behind was waiting to be addressed with a bathroom needing to be cleaned,
toys needing to be put away and several other items to be taken care of before Mom and
Mama could put themselves to bed. Going their separate ways , the two women roamed around
the house quietly preforming their designated chores. Passing each other now and again,
they sough neither’s company until their home was in a semblance of order meeting
with their approval. When that was accomplished, usually after an hour or so, they met up
again in the living room with whoever finished their chores first welcoming the late comer
with a tired happy smile.
“How much longer before we don’t have to do this anymore?” Cole asked as
she plopped down the couch beside her wife. Laying her head back on the cushion, she
lolled it in Coy’s direction.
“Sixteen years and they’ll be off to college.” Coy replied with a sigh.
“Then we get to pick up the tab on two college tuitions instead of toys.”
Drifting to her left as she spoke, she rested her head on Cole’s shoulder.
A disheartened groaned echoed from Cole's lips as she lifted her right arm over her head,
lowering it to encircle Coy’s shoulders, pulling her wife closer. The room lit only
by the fire’s glow in front of them, she gave mussed blonde tresses a light kiss,
then stretched out her long legs, placing her feet on the coffee table.
Coy curled into the embrace, bringing her legs up to lay across Cole’s lap. Staring
into the flames, she felt their warmth easing some of the weariness and let her mind
wander where it may.
Sitting quietly, stray thoughts mingling with memories of the day, her head rose when the
wind broke the silence in a prolonged howl. Reminded of the storm witnessed through the
window, she turned again to gaze out at glitters of white in total darkness. “I
forgot to tell you earlier, but we’re snowed in.”
“Hmmm?” Her mind elsewhere, Cole blinked out of her stupor and caught enough
fragments of the statement to follow Coy’s attention out the window. “What about
the snow?” Yawning out the question, she saw flittering flakes reflect in the
fire’s glow.
“We’re snowed in.” Shaking her head in bemusement, her worried scowl
returned. “I think we’re going to be stuck here a couple of days, if not
longer.”
“Snowed in? Pish.” Rebuking the notion, she crossed her feet at the ankles.
“You’re a worry wart, Coy. You know my truck can get through anything. I’ll
just have to get up early to shovel out in front of the garage before I go to work.”
“Cole, you’re not going to work tomorrow.” Coy corrected in a factual tone.
“Go look for yourself.” Turning back to smile at her wife, she nodded toward the
front of the house. “If you can see the garage, you’ve got x-ray vision, because
I couldn’t see it this afternoon. You’ll be lucky to find the porch in the
morning.”
Dared into action, Cole made a dramatic exit from the couch and strode the distance to the
window in a few strides of her long legs, all the while thinking that Coy’s over
active imagination was running amuck. Expecting to see a lot of snow, but not enough to
disway her from her convictions, she was also ready to contradict Coy with words to the
contrary when she flipped a switch by the door. Neither event occurred when the porch
light came alive to reveal a world smothered in snow. Everywhere she looked there was
nothing but white. She couldn’t see the garage through the storm and she could barely
see the fence separating the house from the outer building in the deep layer of powdery
fluff still falling in droves. “Good God.” Whispering her amazement, she turned,
finding Coy close behind her. “I’ll never get out in this.”
“I told you so.” Her voice reflecting the smugness of her smile, Coy joined her
wife as she turned to look out the glass again. “It started yesterday evening and
hasn’t stopped.” Slipping her arm around Cole’s waist, she leaned into her
spouse as the same apprehension she’d felt earlier in the day returned. “When
was the last time the tanks were filled?”
“Jimmy topped them off Thursday when you took the twins to their doctor’s
appointment.” Picking up on the reference to their heating oil supply, Cole made some
quick calculations. “Figuring our daily usage with the size of the tanks we should be
okay for about a week as long as we don’t try and turn this place into a sauna.”
Putting her hands up, she braced on the window frame, her eyes staring intently out into
the storm. “What about food?” She asked and shifted her eyes to watch her
wife’s reflection in the glass.
“As long as you don’t go on a tuna fish binge, we should be okay.” Coy
smiled because she knew Cole loathed tuna fish with a passion, and promptly ignored the
glare cast her way.
Cole looked at her wife without a hint of humor in her eyes. “Is there anything else
you’ve got that doesn’t require cooking?”
“Maybe.” Rocking forward on her toes, Coy gave Cole’s waist a squeeze.
“I see.” A nod betraying her true emotions, Cole smiled wistfully. “The
only reason I ask, dear heart, is because we may not have electricity come tomorrow
morning. The power lines are taking a beating out there and I’d hate to think that
our children might be sporting gills by the time we dig ourselves out.”
Coy chuckled under her breath and glanced up at her wife. “I’m glad you cleared
that up for me and I wouldn’t worry about Nick and Brin. They like tuna fish.”
Enhancing her smile with a show of pearly whites. “You may starve, but we’ll
survive to give you a proper burial.”
“Coy.” Cole growled through a snarl and pushed off the window frame to fold her
arms across her chest facing the enigmatic blonde.
“I’m kidding, Cole.” Shaking her head, she chuckled again. “Yes, we
have plenty of other things to eat besides tuna fish. If we loose power, I’ve got all
sorts of canned goods in the basement and there are plenty of Pop Tarts to keep you on a
sugar high for days.”
“Pop Tarts?” Cole unfolded her arms slowly. “Strawberry or blueberry?”
“Both and they’re frosted too.” Coy remarked with a noticeable shiver. Her
sentiments over Pop Tarts rivaling Cole’s about tuna fish, she never understood the
attraction they held. Unlike her mate, she preferred a well rounded diet and despite all
her efforts to influence Cole likewise, the woman flatly refused to give up Pop Tarts.
True, Cole had made headway over the years and she’d given up many other things in
the way of unhealthy eating habits, but it never failed. As soon pen was put to paper for
the weekly grocery list Cole would appear out of nowhere calling out for the purchase of
her favorite sugary treat. However, there were advantages to giving in to Cole’s
whim, such as now, when the mention of Coy’s arch nemesis inspired affectionate
gratitude.
Glancing down, she watched two arms snake around her waist with a smile. Yes, she thought,
there are definitely advantages to buying Pop Tarts. Raising her eyes to meet ones closer
than they had been a moment ago, her lips were brushed lightly by a sultry smile.
“I like frosted.” Cole murmured as she pressed their lips together.
Electricity sparking across her skin Coy melted into the intoxicating kiss. Aware of Cole
alone, her thoughts became vacant peripherals. Snow forgotten. Storm forgotten. Pop Tarts
forgotten. Breathing nearly forgotten, she was held enraptured against her wife’s
body. Arms as remote an awareness as the world in general, they coiled around Cole of
their own volition, without disturbing their owner with a request to do so and fingers
coursed their way over plaid flannel to tangle in dark wavy hair.
Though Cole’s reasons for the kiss were pre-functional, the validation was complete
as she fell into the alluring web of preoccupation urged on by an eager partner.
Unnoticed by a sole transfixed shadow, the outside world swirled in tumultuous icy
disarray unseen beyond the porch light’s glow. Bearing it’s load ever downward,
the wind whistled and howled with it’s flurried burden passing through the light in
erratic sheets until it was propelled into darkness by the flick of a wrist. Against the
snowy backdrop a shadow danced in flickering waves until that too vanished, leaving a dim
amber incandescence as the storms lone illumination.
A brunette head peeked inside a small bedroom using the hall light to spy on Brin beneath
Tigger linens while a blonde one spied across the hall on Nick under his X-Men comforter.
Content that the twins were sleeping like the babies they were, Cole and Coy slowly closed
their respective doors leaving each slightly ajar. A confirmation that both twins were
asleep came as a silent nod and a smile from each parent when they faced. Another turn and
they departed the doors as quietly as they’d approached.
Cole walked backwards down the narrow passage, her reflection coming and going in varying
sized framed glass of family photos lining both walls as she led Coy in the direction of
their bedroom by the hand. Placing one bare foot behind the other, her smile changed from
the pleasure of knowing her children were comfortably tucked in for the night, to one of
anticipation of a different sort of pleasure.
Named after a demure red-headed great aunt of considerably larger girth and height
who’d died before she was born, Coy bore no more resemblance to her predecessor than
she did a shy coquette, as her name suggested. Bold in virtually everything she did,
shyness was not part of her character and playing hard to get was the farthest thing from
her mind as she was towed toward a darkened bedroom by a tall gorgeous brunette with
lustful desires evident in deepening blue eyes. To the contrary, the blonde had every
intention of fulfilling her wife’s desires and more than a few of her own heated
imaginings that were becoming more so the closer they came to gaining comparative privacy.
Pausing at the door long enough to close it behind them, Coy sent the room into complete
darkness quietly shutting out the hall light, then felt around on the wall for the switch
that would give power to two identical table lamps stationed on nightstands beside their
bed. When the switch was flipped, the room became dimly lit from Cole’s side of the
bed, while Coy’s lamp remained dark. With her wife now lit from behind, Coy remained
at arms length, her head tilting to one side as she was reminded of why she’d found
the woman so compelling in the first place. Cole’s irrepressible magnetism aside, if
‘every young man’s dream’ had been one word in the dictionary, her picture
would have accompanied the definition.
Long and deceptively lean, her wife was stronger than she appeared with time hardened
muscles developed from an avid sports fanaticism vaguely defined beneath flawless skin.
Too tall for most men to be able to sustain their egos in her presence for very long,
Cole’s six feet, two inch height could intimidate all but the most stall worth of
hearts of either sex, just as her stunning beauty could send chiropractic appointments
into the hundreds when necks strained to catch a glimpse as she strolled by. Agile rather
than awkward, Cole excelled in the sports she loved, which amounted to every outdoor
activity other than mountain climbing. That she left to Coy and stayed on the ground,
giving the excuse that should Coy fall, she would be there to catch her. And Coy had no
doubt that Cole would be there with arms outstretched, head tilted upward, her dark hair
falling down her back as her baby blues searched the sky beneath lush dark lashes set in a
face so exquisite, it was worth risking certain death just to have that face be the last
thing she would ever see.
Needless to say, Coy’s closeness to the source didn’t make her immune to her
wife’s natural charms even after being together for so long, though she’d never
felt the intimidation others suffered. If anything, the attraction had become stronger in
time and for Coy, Cole was an addiction she had no desire to be cured of. Thinking herself
lucky for having snared the towering classic beauty, which was a standing point of
conjecture between them, Coy stepped forward to take an appreciative inventory by
revealing Cole’s assets, starting with the blue and green plaid flannel shirt she was
wearing, but not for much longer.
When the snaps holding her shirt closed were ripped apart to expose her front down to the
waist, Cole realized that her lead down the path to passion had been reduced to nil, but
the loss was quickly lessened as warm lips began kissing her neck. The temperature inside
the room not withstanding, the heat generated from within by Coy’s touch was
sufficient to counter any chill she might have felt as her shirt was slipped off her
shoulders. Wearing no bra underneath the fabric, her bare chest heaved with labored
breaths as her wife’s hands worked the buttons of her jeans. Cole bowed her head to
watch her pants being slid down her legs, along with her underwear and stepped out of them
to wait for whatever Coy had in mind, though there was little doubt in her own as to what
that would be.
Barriers removed, Coy stood slowly and took in the lightly tanned form of her wife with
unmasked carnality. The very sight making her breathing as husky as Cole’s, she
pulled off her clothes unaided, then pressed their naked bodies together to gently urge
her wife backwards toward the bed. There was no resistance to her urging and she gazed
upward for the few paces forward it took to reach their destination. Lowering her eyes as
Cole sat down on the foot of the bed, she again urged her wife backwards using a hand
placed on a strong shoulder and crawled up beside her wife as she scooted back and laid
down. Laying on her right side, Coy’s eyes moved over Cole with a hunger liken to a
starving person eying a feast set before them, but she staved off her immediate wants to
do up close what her spouse had done from afar. Admire and enjoy the bounty of riches that
was Cole and rested her left hand on a flat stomach to begin stroking the smoothness as a
soft moan greeted her touch.
Laid out as a veritable sacrifice for Coy’s pleasure, Cole opened her mouth to hang
agape and useless with the first contact of a strong hand gliding delicately across her
skin that made it tingle from head to toe. Eyes staring at the ceiling, they closed as she
arched slightly into the feel and she held a hushed gasp as Coy continued to explore
familiar territory.
Mesmerized by the beauty stretched out beside her as much as she had been by the falling
snow, Coy claimed heated flesh in deliberate gradual degrees as her hand moved slowly over
every inch. From long sinewy muscled legs that carried Cole so gracefully and spread so
invitingly, to full hips and slender waist she studied each with sensual appreciation and
preceded each gentle caress with a lingering kiss. Focused on every curve, Coy raised her
head as she grazed her finger tips past her starting point in an upward back handed sweep
to the peak of an ample breast where she circled the softness around a taut nipple.
Everywhere Coy touched her, Cole’s skin was set aflame. Smoldering brands left in the
wake, fire spread up from between her legs as short pants of breath intermingled with
quivering moans reflected the exertion of remaining still and the growing need to be taken
completely. Her eyes still closed, they were squeezed tighter, then shot open when
Coy’s mouth covered her breast and sucked hard on the sensitive flesh. “Oh,
God.” The barely audible gasp spoken between held breaths, Cole’s hands balled
into fists clutching the down comforter covering the bed as she arched her back. Mouth
agape once more, it closed enough for her bottom lip slip between her teeth as her body
began to undulate of it’s own accord while Coy continued her ravaging.
Coy’s head rose and fell as she fed her own building fire with succulent sweetness.
Devouring all she could take in, hot breath flared from her nostrils in shortening cadence
to the increased pounding of her heart. Upper body curled half covering Cole’s, the
heat radiating from below bored through her senses in searing intensity, ebbing her desire
for delayed satisfaction until her inventory was complete. Consumed by her consumption,
her awareness of how far she was pushed her mate’s tolerance was heightened when a
hand sought out her’s and guiding it downward toward a patch of dark curls. Needing
no more compulsion to act, Coy shifted her hips, sliding her left leg over Cole to
straddle a rising thigh. Uncurling her body, she straightened her back and relocated her
hungry lips to one’s just as ravenous while her fingers slipped into wet folds.
Jolting forward when Cole’s thigh pushed into her center, Coy began groaning into the
passionate kiss to the rhythm of her wetness grinding in long strokes.
Releasing the comforter, Cole clenched her fingers into Coy’s muscled buttock holding
it against her thigh with one hand while that had guided Coy’s became lost amidst
blonde hair. Her senses assaulted from every quarter, her hips rolled upward to press her
clit into Coy’s massaging as her head lifted off the bed to crush their lips
together. Very near the edge already, Cole stifled a throaty moan as Coy plunged inside
her and began pumping her hand in steady rapid thrusts. Breaking away, her head slammed
into the bed as her hips jerked to match the tempo. Back strained into a high arch, her
words were quiet whimpers. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Coy. Coy. God.”
Their bodies pushing against one another, a thin layer of sweat lubricated their conjoined
oscillations. Coy’s response to her name a muttered whisper was muffled as her head
rocked into Cole’s shoulder and was followed with a series of anguished moans to
correspond with her nearing climax. Poised at the brink, her body assumed a frenzied
fervor. Driven and being driven by a raging inferno tearing up from her core, her hand
pounded her own need deep into Cole as her hips bucked in chaotic spasms. “Cole.
Cole. Cole!”
The sound penetrating her blurred awareness, Cole’s arms wrapped around her wife just
as they both were swept over the precipice. A grimace of pure sexual pleasure marring her
face, her ability to control her body was lost as Coy continued to move inside her,
prolonging the orgasm as she wracked in convulsive waves of uncontainable rapture.
Both bodies engulfed in palpable flames of nirvana, the wind camouflaged guttural moans
and stuttered sighs as lungs filled and emptied in random strained succession. Their
descent as mutual as their rise, it came slowly with bodies relaxing in gradual
progression until the last of the passion was spent with Coy collapsing the instant
Cole’s arms fell to her sides. Still breathing with effort, they lay unmoving for a
time as senses were collected from scattered reaches and they rallied enough strength to
stoke the embers of unquenchable passion, and begin another ascent.
**********
At 5:45 am Cole’s eyes opened as they did every Monday through Friday at that time,
but rather than being roused from unconsciousness by the incessantly annoying chirping of
her alarm clock, the noise that had awakened her was further away than the nightstand. And
after a superficial search of the immediate area to her left, she determined that Coy must
be the culprit, because the blonde headed body was missing from their bed. “She
forgot. I know she forgot.” Mumbling a reference to the fact that she wasn’t
going to work today, Cole surmised her wife had forgotten this and was now up fixing a
breakfast for her. A moan of frustration escaping as she sat up, she rubbed her eyes
before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. As soon as her bare feet hit the cold
floor, she regretted having to get up, but did so anyway, or else face the wrath of a
woman who’d gone through the pains of fixing a meal only to discover it wouldn’t
be wanted for several more hours. Standing slowly, Cole stretched then slumped. Feet
shuffling across the floor, they walked past the end of the bed, where she grabbed her
robe off the post and donned it in route. “I’m going to start putting sticky
notes on her forehead,” she grumbled past the twins’ doors, “with an
industrial staple gun.” Added for good measure.
Her dour mood lasted as long as it took to enter the kitchen and spy the blonde in
question wearing nothing under her robe bent over facing the opposite direction. The
previous nights revels came back to Cole in a flash changing her perspective dramatically
and dispelled her frown with a wicked smile. “I don’t know what is on the menu,
but I know what I want for breakfast.” She said, slanting slowly to the right and
caught a quick gander at Coy’s crotch before it disappeared when her wife stood up.
If Coy needed any clues as to what Cole was referring to, the need evaporated when she
turned around to find her wife bent sideways staring below waist level. With a smile as
wicked as Cole’s on her lips, Coy untied her robe and shrugged it off her shoulders,
then let it drop to the floor. Then she laughed when Cole dropped to the floor.
“I’m glad to see I haven’t lost my touch.” Bending down, she picked up
her robe and had it back on before Cole regained her shattered composure.
“You’re getting oatmeal, by the way.” Said with a seethingly smug
inflection, Coy realized the prospect that she may have erred in her ways when her wife,
halfway to her feet, begged to differ with an ominous leer.
“No no no no, short, sweet and tasty.” Cole shook her head, dusting off her robe
with her wicked smile returning. “There is no way you are going to stand there and
flash that body, and then tell me I’m having oatmeal for breakfast. I know you know
me better than that, Coy Nicholle McCall.”
Coy’s eyes grew unnaturally round at hearing her full name spoken that way and she
began hedging her way out of the kitchen with her hands held up in a defensive posture.
“Now, Cole. Let’s just think about this for a second.” Using a calm voice,
she tried to soothe the savage beast looking at her with a lustful spark lighting up blue
eyes. “There is no need for you to get testy. I was joking about the oatmeal. You can
have Pop Tarts.”
“Oh, it’s far too late for Pop Tarts now. You had your chance.” Chuckling
low, Cole stepped menacingly in her wife’s retreating direction. “Now
you’re mine. Come here, Coy.”
“Cole. Now . . . now Cole. Let’s be reasonable about this.” Barely at arms
length, Coy began backing up faster to stay out Cole’s lecherous reach.
“We’ve got two very impressionable children in the house who could appear at any
moment and don’t you have to get ready for work?”
“They won’t be up for hours and we’re snowed in, remember? I’ve got
plenty of time to feed my face.” Glancing down at the area below Coy’s waist,
Cole licked her lips with the scarcely veiled innuendo. “Ummmm, I can just taste it
now.”
“Oh, shoot. I forgot. ” In more trouble than she originally suspected, Coy took
off like a shot around the living room, putting the couch between herself and Cole, who
followed in an irritatingly casual confident stride.
“Where ya going, Coy?” Cole asked with feigned innocence. “Why don’t
you come over here?” Making a lunge, she grabbed a handful of air and dashed around
the couch. “Come here, Coy.”
“Cole! No!” Running to the other end of the couch, Coy stopped when Cole did and
eyed her hunter warily. “You stay away from me, Cole Brin McCall.”
“Aw, what’s the matter? Has the insatiable Coy lost her appetite after nearly
killing me last night? I just want to repay the favor.” Another lunge. Another missed
attempt at capture and around the couch they went again. “I don’t know why
you’re running. There’s no place to go, Coy. So why don’t you just come
over here and sit on my face?”
“Cole!” Coy shrieked as quietly as possible and glanced down the hall. “Are
you out of your mind. Watch your mouth. The twins could hear you.”
“Well if you’d come over here,” patting the cushion invitingly, “I
could put my mouth to much better use.”
Focusing back on her wife, Coy’s eyes went wide again when Cole began rubbing her
breast under her robe. “Cole.” Drawing out the name, she shook her head and a
warning finger. “That is not going to work, so stop it.”
“Stop what?” Feigning innocence again, Cole continued to knead her own breast
and started rotating her hips from side to side.
“Cole, I mean it. Stop that.” Coy said over a moan from the other end of the
couch. “You are not going to seduce me. You’re wasting your time, do you hear
me?”
This time Cole didn’t answer verbally. Instead she used her long arm to stroke the
inside of her thigh, lifting her robe to expose dark curls as her hips went around.
“Is it hot in here?” She asked in a husky voice and laid her head back.
“No.” Coy lied, feeling a slight flush prickle her skin and shook her head to
clear away the spell being so expertly cast. Speaking as much to herself as Cole, she
denied the effect the display was having on her resolve. “No no no. This is not going
to work. I am not falling for this.”
Cole kept up her appearance of self pleasuring, while her moans enhanced the performance.
Bottom lip between her teeth, she put more thrust into her hips movements.
“Yesssss.”
“Yes . . . I mean no. No!” Slapping her hands over her eyes, Coy turned her head
to peer between her fingers for another check to make sure the twins weren’t up and
about, then turned back and promptly shut her eyes when the vision of Cole so obviously
enjoying herself nearly cracked her thinning veneer of self control. Now safely blinded to
the temptation, the sounds emanating from the other side of the room wreaked as much havoc
as the view had as the moans intensified in desperate timbre.
Having heard nothing for a time, Cole stole a covert peek and smiled. Working the moans to
the hilt, she removed her hands from under her robe and untied it, letting it slip off her
shoulders. Then, very slowly, she crept around the couch with measured stealth. Adjusting
the volume of her voice, she simulated distance and approached her quarry with caution.
Step by step, she moved closer until Coy was well within range. Plotting her next move
carefully, Cole was torn between throwing her wife over her shoulder and carrying her off
to bed, or simply taking advantage of the couch so close at hand. A few logistics worked
out quickly, she took action. “Gotcha!”
Falling miserably for the deception, Coy was on her back with Cole’s naked body
laying on top and any protest smothered in a crushing kiss, before she realized she was no
longer vertical. Ambushed and pinned, her resistance to the attack was minimal, lacking
both the strength and desire to dislodge her wife. A perfect ploy executed masterfully,
Coy succumbed to the knowledge that she could be so easily manipulated and Cole’s
yearning for retribution with merely a minor annoyance factor weighing against the
overwhelming loss of sane judgment she suffered when her wife proved her skills in the art
of sexual stimulation.
**********
The power having gone off somewhere between her ravaging Coy on the couch and her ravaging
Coy in the bedroom, Cole stood in a dark kitchen eating a Pop Tart and humming to herself
in satisfied success when two sleepy faces appeared from around the corner.
“Hi.” She said happily and waved.
Drawn there by the humming, Brin and Nick padded their way to where Mom was standing. Nick
being more awake than his sister tugged on the bottom of the robe without looking up to
see if he had her attention. “Go potty.” Expecting to be followed, he held on to
the hem when he walked away.
Grabbing the open box of Pop Tarts off the counter, Cole swooped Brin up in her arms and
followed dutifully behind.
Her head laying on Mom’s shoulder, Brin looked around in confusion. “Mama.”
“Mama’s asleep, sweety.” Cole whispered. “She’s a little tired,
but you can come lay down in the bed with us after you go potty. Would you like
that?”
Brin nodded against Mom’s neck. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay, then. Mother nature, then Mama.” Hugging her daughter tightly, she walked
behind Nick, taking one stride to his three to the bathroom. Once she’d helped the
twins take care of their business, she got their pajamas back on and walked them into the
bedroom where Coy lay somewhere beneath the covers stretched out on her stomach. The Pop
Tarts went on the nightstand, then Nick was lifted up onto the bed after Brin and Cole
held the covers up so they could crawl underneath, before she got in. With little room
left for herself, she rolled onto her side, facing the twins and Coy, who managed to sleep
though the invasion until Nick crawled on top of her to sprawl out. A soft chuckled
greeting Coy’s confused expression when she lifted her head, Cole smiled.
“Wonder where he gets that from?”
Coy glanced over her shoulder then dropped her head back on the pillow and closed her
eyes. “You. You spread out. I cuddle.” Stating the facts as she saw them.
“Hmmmm.” Not entirely convinced, Cole let the matter go and scooted further to
the center of the bed. Laying her arm over Brin, who was content to stay snuggled in
between her parents, she tapped Coy’s shoulder. “In case you’re interested.
The phone lines are down too, but I got a hold of Jeff with the cell phone and told him to
tell Dad we’re snowed in until the storm blows over. He said he’d send up smoke
signals.” Pulling the covers up over her shoulders, she called her brother an twitter
brained brat if French, so the twins wouldn’t understand.
A translator for an international marketing firm before she got pregnant and chose to
become a house wife, Coy was fluent in French, Spanish, Italian, German, Russian and a
little rusty with her Japanese, Chinese and Korean because she didn’t get to practice
much, but she really didn’t need to be multi-lingual to pick up on Cole’s
irritation. Laughing softly, she felt around for Cole’s arm and patted it in
commiseration. “I guess we should have gotten Dad a cell phone for Christmas instead
of that kiln.”
“He got what he asked for, so let him suffer. If he wants to live in the dark ages,
that’s his problem. I’m not going to drag him into this century kicking and
screaming.” Still speaking in French, Cole slapped her pillow, taking her
frustrations out on defenseless feather stuffing. “Stubborn old coot. Knowing him, he
probably can read smoke signals. Maybe that’s why the computer caught on fire. He was
probably trying to send email the old fashioned way.”
Coy really wanted to stop the rantings before they got out of control and go back to sleep
in peace, but doing either was difficult because she could not stop laughing.
The running feud between father and daughter was a worn out tale of catastrophic
proportions to hear it told by either party and never ceased to entertain the listener,
especially when the sides were told in conjunction while the opposing party was there to
defend their sentiments. That is when it really got side splitting, fall on the floor
funny. To see Cole, party of the first part, trying to explain the benefits of progressive
change to her Dad, party of the second part, who felt that changing something for the sake
of change was idiotic because there was no logical reason to fix something that
wasn’t broken. To make matters worse, Cole’s attempts to make changes without
her father’s consent often lead to disaster. Such as the computer she purchased to
modernize the inventory and accounting systems going up in flames. It was a prime example
of why in-laws where not allowed as fodder in their verbal fishing tournament over dinner.
One remark about Dad and Cole would go off the deep end, thus ending the game before it
had truly begun. And to be fair, Coy wasn’t much better where her family was
concerned. Her relationship with her sister was an ongoing struggle of differing points of
view as stale as Cole’s and Dad’s, but their confrontations revolved around
Coy’s choices in life.
To her sister, Coy’s decision to stay home and raise her family versus putting Nick
and Brin in day care so she could continue her climb up the corporate ladder, which is
what her sister chose to do with her children, was throwing away a well established career
when it didn’t need to be. Whereas Coy, who had no real qualms about day care and
accepted her sister’s choice, defended her own as gaining more than she had given up
with the evidence being her own happiness and that of her family’s. Cole’s
support in the matter was complete, once she’d been convinced Coy had thoroughly
considered all her options, so there was little her sister could do but go on about a lost
opportunity Coy didn’t regret giving up, just as Cole went on about her father’s
refusal to give up rotary dial telephones, which is where she had gotten to in her ranting
by the time Coy stopped laughing long enough to interrupt.
“Cole.” Coy said and grabbed the hand waving around over her head.
“Cole.”
“ . . . and when he dies, those suckers are going in the casket with him.” Well
into her tirade, Cole came to a stuttered halt when her hand did. “What?”
“You’re shouting and you’re shaking the bed. Go to sleep or go
outside.” Issuing her ultimatum with a smile, she kissed Cole’s hand, then
released it. Choosing the former for herself, she closed her eyes and relaxed.
Cole saw no use in continuing without an attentive audience that she evidently lacked both
inside the house and out. With little else to do but go to sleep, she rolled on her back,
stretching her arms and legs, and welcomed Brin when the little girl crawled up to cuddle
into her arms. Scooting closer to Coy, she found her wife’s hand beneath the covers
and laced their fingers, then closed her eyes.
**********
The foursome slept several more hours until the temperature in the house became unbearably
cold because Cole had failed to switch the ventilation system for the furnace over to the
back up battery pack when she’d gotten up earlier. Very close to being human
popcicles, three stayed in bed under the covers shivering and one bundled up as Quinn the
Eskimo for a trek into the basement. Finding the basement filled with smoke, due to the
lack of proper circulation, Cole opened a ground level window, only to find it completely
blocked with snow. Working with only a flashlight and unable to hook up the batteries
until the smoke could be cleared away, she propped open the door to the basement and waved
as much of the smoke into the house as possible. Then she removed the battery from the
smoke detector in the kitchen and calmed the trio standing huddled in the hallway ready to
make their escape, sending them off to open some windows that were not blocked by snow.
While they were doing this, she returned to the basement and found it sufficiently cleared
to see to switch the power over. With air from the furnace now being circulated correctly,
the smoke was sucked in the intake, clearing the basement and filling the rest of the
house. Another remedy needed quickly, she closed the exhaust vent in their bedroom and
shuttled the family back inside to let the wind whipping through the open windows, and the
furnace fans eventually pump the smoke outside, even though the heat everyone was wanting
would go out with it. Then Quinn joined her family and took up smoke patrol, checking on
its recession every five minutes or until someone requested an update, which ever came
last. And eventually most of the smoke did clear from the rest of the house before Coy,
Brin and Nick suffered frostbite. But before allowing them out of the bedroom, Cole made a
full house check, closing windows as she went, then descended into the basement again to
make a final check there. Once she was satisfied that the furnace was not going to blow up
and that the house was not going to catch on fire, she released the trio to don
appropriate clothing to wait for the temperature to rise to a comfortable level. Several
more paranoia induced checks later, the house was again suitable for carbon based life
forms to survive without wearing every piece of clothing they owned and everyone settled
down to enjoy the novelty of primitive living for hopefully longer than it took to get the
electricity back on, or before they ran out of Pop Tarts.
Coy lay on the couch watching and listening to Brin and Nick inside a make shift tend she
and Cole had erected in the living room out of chairs and a blanket. With no fire in the
fireplace, animal shaped projections danced across the blanket from two flashlights the
twins were playing with, while their giggles floated in the air. An amused smile on her
lips, she turned her focus toward the window where Cole was standing watching the snow
fall as she had done the previous day. Barely able to see her wife’s face reflected
in the gray outside, Cole’s growing restlessness showed in the way her hands patted
out a nervous rhythm from inside the pockets of the jeans they were shoved into and Coy
knew she needed to do something to distract her wife before she started fidgeting.
Taking the simple direct approach, Coy called out in a whisper. “Cole.”
Engrossed in her own thoughts, it took several calls of her name to get Cole to respond.
When she did come out of herself, she turned around and accepted Coy’s invitation to
join her on the couch.
“Any change?” Coy asked as she turned on her side, sliding to the back of the
couch to make room for Cole to lay down in front of her.
“I think it’s slacking up. Maybe by tomorrow I can start shoveling towards the
garage.” Cole said, laying her head on the pillow she had brought out of their
bedroom earlier, because it didn’t smell like smoke. Once she stretched out, she
relaxed into the only place she ever truly relaxed. Coy’s arms. Like an elixir, the
arms of the woman she loved was a safe haven from the world’s ails, if only
temporarily and Cole felt her anxiety slipping away as Coy snuggled against her back.
Coy propped up on her elbow, resting her head in her hand as she looked over her wife at
the tent. “Or maybe by tomorrow you can figure out how recharge AA batteries without
electricity.”
“Yea, it beats having to do shadow puppets with a candle.” Watching the dancing
lights, her anxiety was already forgotten and Cole’s shoulders jostled with her
chuckle. “Although you are very good with your hands. You could probably keep them
entertained for hours, like you do me . . . ow.” Rubbing her pinched behind, she
glanced over her shoulder at the pincher. “That’s not what I hand in mind for
you to do with your hands.”
“Yes, I know what your one track mind had on it and you can drag it right out of the
gutter because this couch has seen its last action for awhile.” Coy smirked down at
Cole’s scowl.
“Meanie.” Sticking out her tongue, Cole glanced back at the tent. “Do you
think they will fall asleep on their own?” She asked as a whisper.
Finding the notion absurd, Coy answered sarcastically. “Sure they will. The sugar in
the Pop Tarts you gave them for breakfast should where off sometime around midnight.”
“They had half of one apiece.” Cole said in her own defense. “And I
couldn’t very well sit there and eat one in front of them without sharing.”
“You wouldn’t have been eating in front of them if you hadn’t brought the
box into the bedroom.” Coy countered.
“I was hungry.” She shot back over her shoulder. “And how come the box was
empty when I got back from the basement? Who ate the rest of my Pop Tarts?”
Caught in a quandary, Coy looked away.
Cole started to turn over as her mouth dropped open in astonishment. “You ate my Pop
Tarts?”
The need for defense now her’s, Coy cleared her throat. “Yes, but desperate
circumstances call for desperate measures.”
In total disbelief, Cole faced her wife. “You little hypocrite.”
“Hardly.” Coy rebuked with an up turn of her nose. “I was hungry. They were
there. They tasted horrible. End of story.”
“Oh, please. If they tasted so bad, why did you eat four of them? Hmmmmmm?” She
asked very smugly. “I would have thought that after shoving twigs and berries down
your gullet all in the name of good nutrition for so many years, you would have eaten the
box before the contents. It being a good source of fiber and all.”
Coy’s eyes narrowed to thin slits and her lips crunched up into a terse sneer.
“What part of desperate did you not understand?” She said very slowly. “If
there had been mildew on the window sills, I would have gladly licked that up with my bare
tongue instead. I’m sure it would have tasted better and been better for me than
those diabetic death threats.”
“If you had only eaten one and I emphasize the if part, I may believe you.” Cole
came back and shook a finger in Coy’s face. “However, eating four constitutes a
suggestion of enjoyment on your part and admit it, Coy. You liked my Pop Tarts,
didn’t you?”
“I am appalled at that accusation. If I hadn’t been in fear for my life shortly
afterwards, I would have shoved my finger down my throat to get rid of the vile
atrocities.” Waggling her finger in Cole’s face, she smiled. “And, and, and
I may yet. If I don’t go into some kind of exponential caloric intake coma.”
Spitting out the last, Coy was about to crawl over her wife when Cole sat up, blocking her
way.
“Not so fast. You haven’t answered my question, yet.” Holding Coy back with
one hand, Cole eyed her suspiciously.
“I most certainly did.” Slapping the hand off her chest.
“You most certainly did not.” Cole shook her head. “You said you were
appalled by the accusation, not that you denied it.”
“A technicality. Now move, I’m feeling suddenly nauseous.” Coy announced
and tried to wrestle her way out of the jam she was in.
“No.” Cole said tritely and held her wife back with her greater size. “Not
until I get an honest answer.”
“You got your answer and if you don’t get out of my way, you’ll get to see
your precious Pop Tarts all over again.” Wrists held in Cole’s grasp, she
struggled to get to freedom.
“Hurl to your hearts content, my dear. It won’t be the first time I’ve been
spit up on.” Cole chuckled and wrapped her long legs around Coy’s. “Now
confess. You like Pop Tarts, don’t you?”
Growling to conceal the truth, Coy struggled harder rather than lie. “Let go of
me.”
“How about you two?” Calling for eye witnesses, Cole spoke over her shoulder.
“Hey, Nick and Brin. Did Mama like the Pop Tarts?”
Nick and Brin popped their heads out of the tent and walked over to the couch. Unfazed by
seeing their parents in a physical struggle, they giggled at the spectacle.
Letting go of Coy’s wrists, Cole wrapped her arms quickly around her shoulders and
rolled to get a better view of the twins. “Come on. Did Mama go ‘mmmmmm’
when she ate breakfast in bed today?”
“That is a leading question.” Coy objected.
“And I think the lady doth protest to much.” Cole quoted and did a quick flip to
put Coy on the bottom. “Now, then. That’s better.” Securely on top, she
turned to the twins. “What did Mama say when she ate breakfast in bed this
morning?”
“Don’t you two say a word.” Trying hard not to make her words sound
threatening, Coy smiled after she said them.
Following Mama’s instruction, Brin and Nick remained silent and nodded, and their
only response was to smile back and rub their tummies.
“Inconclusive! They could be talking about what they did!” Quick to discount the
testimony.
“Fine. I’ll rephrase the question.” Cole smiled congenially. “Show me
what Mama looked like when she ate breakfast this morning.”
Brin and Nick exchanged a look, then they went back inside the tent.
Confused, Cole and Coy exchanged a look.
“What are they doing?” Coy asked and tried to peer into the tent.
“I don’t know.” Cole shrugged as she tried to do the same thing.
“What’s that noise?”
To answer her question, the twins came out of the tent with the box. Taking their place on
the witness stand, the pair reached in the box and began shoving handfuls of cereal in
their mouths, to Mama’s chagrin.
Eyes wide at first, Coy shut them as Cole began to laugh. “Tattle tells.”
“Thank you. You can go back and play now. You have been very helpful.” Cole got
out in between chortles.
Happy to be of service, Nick and Brin went back inside the tent and began warding off the
tent monster again.
Cole released her captive and nearly fell off the couch from laughing so hard.
Discovered and disgruntled, Coy helped her wife’s departure with a hearty shove.
“Oh, just get off me you rat. It is not that funny. So I liked the Pop Tarts, is that
a crime?”
Landing with a thump, Cole shook her head. “A character flaw, maybe. But it is not a
crime. Ahhhhh. The mighty Coy has tasted of the forbidden frosted fruit filled toaster
pastries. I’ll alert the media.”
A toss up to whether she was put out with herself for liking the Pop Tarts or with being
caught liking them, Coy stepped on Cole’s stomach as she got up. “If we
weren’t in mixed company, I’d tell you what you could do with your frosted fruit
filled toaster pastries.”
Cole grabbed her leg before she got away and held on as Coy tried to get it back.
“And here I thought you bought blueberry flavored tooth paste.”
“Stop gloating and get off me.” Jerking her leg, Coy was held fast. Literally
dragging Cole across the floor, she was making progress until the twins added their weight
to the load.
Scrambling out of the tent, the twins jumped on Mom’s back for a ride.
“Hi ho!” Nick shouted and waved his arm around like a bronco buster. “Gitty
up, Mom!”
Brin hung onto Nick.
With the command, Cole let go of Coy’s leg and raised onto all fours, then crawled
after her wife as she walked away, making horse noises.
It took a few minutes of being followed around with animal sounds and laughter before
Coy’s mood changed, and she took her remaining frustrations out on her wife by
pummeling Cole with a pillow, which soon turned into a four-way pillow fight.
**********
Three days after the snow had begun to fall, it stopped. It took another two days for
anyone in the McCall household to notice, because that is when the electricity came back
on and a full week passed before Cole finally made it to the garage, though that was
merely to retrieve two sleds. And that is how Cole, Coy, Nick and Brin spent their
captivity. Enjoying each other’s company and making memories that would last a
lifetime.
**********
The End.
Thanks for reading.
FlyBigD.