The Storm

The Storm

By Thomas Blaine
(thomasblaine@yahoo.com)

Every fall, fierce storms always swept down from the northeast, especially in our little town up in the mountains. We could count on it like a universal truth, an axiom. Every year when the leaves changed colors and the children went back to school, we knew we would be subjected to several storms.

That Thursday in late October was no different. It started raining just before noon and, by three in the afternoon, tree branches were sliding down Main Street. It wasn't long until the power started to flicker.

"We're in for a storm Mr. Walker," said one of the elderly ladies who came into my bookstore every few days to look for childhood memories among my used books. The time was just after one.

"The weather service says it should be a strong one, ma'am," I answered half attentively as I hurriedly finished and saved my work on the computer before the power went out all the way. "You'd better get home before things get really bad, you don't know how long you'll be here."

She left a few minutes later after picking through the shelves of used books and not finding anything. She would be back in a couple days to look again. I wish I knew what her memories were so I could try to find some of the books she sought.

At two thirty, I sent my staff (all two of them) home for the afternoon and was getting ready to close up shop. No one would be out on an afternoon like this. By three, the storm had really started; the rain fell in sheets and the old wooden building now housing my bookstore creaked with the wind.

The store was empty. I shut down the computers up front and the one in my office and made sure the seals around the storm windows were holding tight. I had an a little apartment behind and above the bookstore, which made it easy to keep tabs on everything. At once I was both at home and at work. I'm glad I enjoyed working in a book store, otherwise I wouldn't have liked the arrangement.

Everything was taken care of. I made a cup of coffee at the machine up front and sat down at one of the wooden tables by the bay window along the front wall of the store. From there I'd have a nice view of the storm up in the mountains . . . what little of it could be seen through the rain . . . and watch the street slowly turn to a river.

A little bit of flashing red and white cloth outside the window caught my attention. Damn. I'd forgotten to take down the flag. I went to the door, put on my brown leather jacket, and stepped out into the howling wind. Trying to remain as much as possible in the shelter of the entranceway, I reached around to take hold of the base of the little flag pole. The cloth flag was soaking wet and heavy, I'd have to hang it up inside to drip try.

As I was about to go back inside, the door to the restaurant across the street opened and a woman with short hair came out. The building was dark and she carried a flashlight in her hand. She looked around and ran across the street towards me. I stepped aside to let her in out of the rain.

"Hi," she said, slightly out of breath. "I figured you wouldn't be open."

"I never close," I joked, shutting the door and placing the flagpole in the corner to dry next to the heat register.

"I lost power across the street, mind if I weather the storm here?" she asked.

"Of course not, I'll make you a cup of coffee," I answered.

I took her black pea coat, hanging it on the coat rack, and pulled out a chair for her at the table before walking over to the coffee machine.

"How do you take it?" I asked.

"Nothing fancy," she said. "Cream and sugar."

I poured a cup and brought over the little basket with the cream and sugar so she could make it as she liked it.

"My name's Daric," I said, sitting down across from her.

"I'm Megan," she said. "I own the restaurant across the street."

"I've seen you around a few times," I said. "I should come over there sometime for lunch."

"It's easier than going home every day," Megan smiled, sipping her coffee.

"Actually, I live upstairs," I replied. "So it doesn't get more convenient than that. That's an interesting accent you have, where are you from?"

"Oh, I'm a military brat," Megan said. "My dad was in the Air Force so we moved around a lot. I've lived all over the US, England, Germany, and Italy."

"Really, I was in the Army for a few years," I responded. "Stationed in Germany for part of that."

"It's a small world, isn't it," Megan said. "But he retired ten years ago and we came back to the states."

"Ah, ten years ago I was still in high school," I said.

"So was I."

Megan poured some more sugar into her coffee and stirred it with the plastic stirrer. "You're pretty new here, aren't you?"

"I just moved into town last spring," I answered. "I've always wanted to own a bookstore and when I came through on vacation and saw that Bill Middleton was retiring, I couldn't pass up the chance."

I'd purchased the book store from Bill, who was in his eighties and could no longer keep it. I did a bit of remodeling, including adding the apartment in back, over the summer and opened for business again in late August. Bill died peacefully in his sleep a week after signing the store over to me.

"He was a great man," Megan lamented.

"Yes he was," I said. "But I have a soft spot in my heart for veterans."

"So do I," Megan said. "That's what I like about this town, it's small and patriotic."

"I've had enough of big cities," I said. "I just wanted to live somewhere small like this. A quiet town, up in the mountains. A little rugged but not too out of the way."

"Well, you've picked the perfect place. I love it here."

Outside, the sky lit up and a clap of thunder shook the ground.

"It looks like the storm's moving behind us," Megan noticed.

"Say, do you want to see something breathtaking?"

"Sure," Megan said.

"Follow me."

I locked the front door and turned the sign to read "closed", then led Megan through the back of the store, down a short hallway, through a locked door, and into my living room. The opposite wall was dominated by gigantic French windows and double doors leading out to a recently built deck. I pulled back the curtains and Megan gasped.

Outside was nothing but mountains. My home was built on the upper edge of a wide valley with no buildings constructed beneath it. From inside, one couldn't see any sign of civilization, except for a thin line through the trees on the opposite side of the valley where a train line once ran to the mines.

"My God, what a view," Megan said, stepping up to the windows.

It was hard to see the mountains opposite us because they were shrouded in clouds and sheets of rain. The trees waved and danced in the wind and the occasional small twigs flew by. Bolts of lightning lit the sky from one side to the other.

"When I moved in there were just two small windows here, all of this used to be a store room behind the store. This was the first thing I thought of."

"You have to invite me over more often," Megan said.

"Anytime," I replied. "I don't have people over that often."

Megan sat down on the couch facing the windows and put her feet up on the coffee table.

"You mean you don't have a girlfriend?" she asked.

I shook my head as I sat down next to her.

"Nope," I said. "I was married for a while, right after college, but that didn't work out."

"I'm sorry," Megan said, turning her eyes from the view to my face.

"It's okay," I replied. "We were young and didn't know what we wanted in life. We were both heading in two different directions. What about you?"

"I don't have time for a relationship," Megan said. "Running a business takes a lot of time. But I guess I don't have to tell you that."

"Nope," I smiled. "We don't have regular days with regular hours. I'm out front before we open and close up shop at night when everyone's gone."

"And all the late nights working on the books, checking inventories, placing orders with suppliers."

"Handling customers who don't know what they want but expect you to."

"Cleaning up after kids who make messes."

"Straightening up after adults have put the books all out of order."

"Sometimes I wonder why I even own the business."

I sighed.

"Me too."

We smiled.

"Finally, I find someone who understands," Megan said. "Most of the men around here are, well, a little shallow."

"I know what you mean, I've found the same thing with the women." I said. "I like this town a lot, but it really shows that most of the people have lived here their entire life and never got much beyond a high school education."

"I tried the limited dating scene when I first got here. That lasted about a week."

"I didn't even want to chance it," I said.

"It's like all everyone thinks about is sex, sex, sex, sex," Megan pointed out. "I guess there isn't much else to do up here. But still, I'd be weary of a town where everyone's slept with everyone else. When I got here, I could tell that all the guys saw me as was new meat."

"You know, I think it's natural for everyone to size people up as potential mates," I said. "I'll be honest, when you first came into my store, I said to myself 'here is a very attractive woman, and I love those eyes.' But that doesn't mean I'm going to pursue you like a piece of meat. I think women should be treated better than that."

Megan smiled a big smile. I guess it was the first time in a while someone had complimented her like that. Perhaps she felt the need to return the compliment, or perhaps she genuinely thought so, but she replied by saying, "And when I first saw you I thought you were an incredibly handsome man who knows how to take care of himself and look sharp."

I smiled and said, "I've always tried to look professional. I guess I don't blend in here because I don't have a mullet." My hair was fairly short with a fade on the back of my head so none of the hair touched my collar. I never liked a mullet cut, with the short hair on top and long hair in back.

"I wish I'd met you earlier," Megan said.

Suddenly the power went out and, with it, the lights on the end tables.

"I guess it was just a matter of time before my block lost power too," I said. "Wait here, I'll go get some light."

I went into the kitchen and found a couple candles and candleholders. My stomach growled slightly, I'd missed lunch and needed something to eat. I stuck my head back into the living room and said, "Do want anything to snack on? I'm going to get something."

"Sure," Megan answered. "Anything you have will be fine."

I took some crackers from the cupboard and some cheese from the fridge. I grabbed a bottle of wine from the wine rack on the counter - nothing fancy, they didn't sell any of that around there - and two wine glass from the shelf. I placed it all on a tray and carried it out to the living room.

"Oh my," Megan said, seeing the snacks. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to be romantic."

"With this view, with this company, would you even consider anything else?" I said, lighting the candles with a lighter. I poured the wine and handed a glass to Megan.

"To the storm," I toasted. "Through it, I met a kindred soul."

"To the storm," Megan replied. We gently clinked our glass and took a sip.

"Well, for someone who's not trying to be romantic, you sure are doing a good job at it."

"Okay, you caught me," I confessed. "I was trying to be a little romantic. Not a lot, mind you, just a little."

"At least your honest about it," Megan smiled.

"I hope you don't mind," I said.

"Not at all, it's been a long time since I did this on a rainy afternoon," she said. "All we need is a fire in the fireplace."

I held up a finger, nonverbally telling her to wait one minute, got up, and flipped a switch on the wall next to the fireplace. A few sparks flashed inside and a fire came to life a second later.

"You're kidding," Megan said. "You did not get one of those."

"You'd better believe it," I answered. "It's cleaner than a regular fireplace, produces more heat, and is better for the environment."

I sat down next to her, a little bit closer than before.

"Well, Daric," she said. "Candlelight, wine and cheese, roaring fireplace, and a beautiful view. You sure know how to make a woman happy."

I reached out and brushed her hair away from her cheek, placing my hand against her skin.

"There're a few things I know how to do."

Megan turned her head and kissed my wrists. I leaned forward as she did and our lips joined in a kiss. It was a slow, deep kiss; the kind I hadn't had in quite a while. Megan's lips were sweet, reminding me of how much I missed the feeling of the first kiss.

I pulled Megan closer to me and our kiss became harder are more passionate. It had been nearly two years since I last held a woman, and it might have been that long since Megan had been with a man. Both of us had a lot of time to make up for.

I kissed her neck and buried my face against her shoulders. She ran her hands up and down my back, inadvertently untucking my shirt. My hands reached for the buttons of her white blouse, unbuttoning the top two as I kissed down her body, onto the soft skin of her breasts. She leaned back and arched her spine, thrusting her chest out towards me. I opened her shirt and ran my fingers over her soft, lace bra.

"Mmmm," Megan moaned as my fingers slipped beneath the white fabric and danced across her nipples.

She sat up and removed her blouse. I removed my tie and unbuttoned my shirt. She reached for my undershirt and pulled it up, kissing my chest and stomach.

Our breathing became heavier and hotter as we explored each other's bodies, removing articles of clothing as we went. Our hands and lips tenderly moved over each other, gently caressing and probing. Her warm body, dressed only in delicate panties, felt like heaven as it pressed close to my nearly nude frame.

"Shall we go upstairs?" I asked, nibbling her ear.

"Yes," she whispered.

I picked Megan up in my arms and carried her up the stairs in the back of the room to the loft I used as a bedroom. It opened up to the living room below, separated by a banister. I laid her on top of the blankets on my antique four-poster bed and knelt down next to her.

We kissed again and ran our fingers through each other's hair. I kissed her neck and shoulders and breasts, gently sucking on her firm nipples as they became stiff against my tongue. Her hands tugged at my boxers and mine at her panties. She gasped as my fingers pressed between her legs, I gasped as she gently caressed my manhood.

"Are you ready?" I asked tenderly.

Megan nodded, too lost in pleasure to respond with her voice. I removed a condom from the nightstand and slid it on - just because I hadn't been with a woman in a couple years didn't mean I wasn't prepared. I lay on top of her and slowly pressed against her. We moved our hips rhythmically until the tip of my manhood found the entrance to her body.

Her warmth surrounded me as I slowly entered her. It felt incredible to be making love again after such a long time. Megan and I made love with excitement, two people who were consumed by the fires of passion.

Our bodies, tangled together, rolled over each other on the sheets. We made love in different positions for hours, bringing each other to climax more times than either could count. We made love until our bodies, hot and sweaty, couldn't move any more.

When we were finished, we held each other and fell asleep. Both of us slept so deeply that neither stirred until the next morning, when the sunlight cascaded down in a shaft of light through the skylight.

After that stormy afternoon, Megan and I remained together, two inseparable spirits, as lovers and then as man and wife, for the rest of our lives. I met the woman I love with all my heart because of the storm.

This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to living persons or actual events is entirely coincidental. This story may not be redistributed without permission from the author.