Frigid

He came with the night wind, a cold front descending from the arctic complete with freezing rain and icy fingers. The branches creaked as trees flexed back and forth in a relentless effort to remain standing. By the morning the broken boughs and torn leaves would litter the ground but she wouldn't care. In fact, it was the perfect excuse for missing church that morning.

She watched the branches whip about and listened to the melody of her wind chimes as her coffee steamed up the window. Touching her fingers to the cold surface she drew overlapping circles much like his frozen fingers drew on her the night before. Her nipples still ached from his cold pinches.

She had been asleep but awoke as her door slowly opened and a chill came over the room. Blinking her eyes she watched as he silently crossed the room and then pulled back her blanket and bed sheets. Though frightened she didn't scream or try to escape, instead she watched intently as his frigid hands moved down her body, grasped her nightgown and slowly eased it off of her. Obediently, she lifted and moved her body helping him to undress her.

Feeling the scratch of his face on the soft skin of her neck she felt the bed move as he crawled over her, kneeling as his tongue began tracing icy paths downward, ever downward. His chilled breath burned her eyes and throat with its antiseptic taste. Tears ran down her face as his tongue moved down her throat and then curved over the loose mound of her breast.

She wasn't sure if it was the cold or her body responding to her icicle lover but her nipples were hard, standing up, ready for his mouth to slip over them, draw them into his lips. He moved back and forth between them, teasing them, exploring the texture of the dark areola and the firm nub. All too quickly his tongue skated away, moving down over the slight bulge in her stomach to her navel.

He lingered there, dipping into it as if yearning for a depth. The dampness from his cold tongue seemed to pool there and as she lifted her head to look down at him, the pool glistened in the faint light like a tiny frozen lake. She looked at his eyes, then the rest of his face yearning for a smile, the slightest hint of response, be he remained icy cold.

She shivered as she felt her pubic hair part for his tongue and nose as he moved downward toward her most delicate parts. Feeling his wintry breath furrow down between her lips, she shuddered as his frosty hands moved under her and clasped her ass, squeezing it. Opening her legs she gave into his polar advances, feeling the cold penetrate her, slowly circle inside her and then withdraw.

Holding her breath she felt him move again, this time upwards, for the first time he stopped his relentless descent of her body. Her lips opened to him as he followed the soft folds upward to the firm nub of her clit. Shivering, she felt her clit circled by his frigid tongue and then sucked into his glacial mouth. Surprisingly the bitter cold pierced her with raw, savage sensations that yes... yes, began to take hold. Her shivering slid into a rhythm as she lifted her hips, pressing against the chilling cold.

Feeling the scratch of his face on her delicate skin she continued, yearning more, needing it, even the cold touch drew her closer and closer. As the pleasure shrouded her she remembered her husband, her other lovers. She remembered how none of them could... how hard she tried with them and still. So ironic being called frigid, not only by her husband and other lovers but doctors too. So ironic that now, this icicle lover was finally, so close... so close.

"Oh yes," she cried out, finally, finally, finally she felt it, amid the icy cold his glacial tongue flicked over her clit and yes, yes, suddenly a finger, no two fingers skated into her pussy. She lifted her hips and for the first time in her life she came, feeling the pleasure flood over her, feeling her body squeeze his frozen fingers, shivering and shuddering as she finally felt what she longed for. Moments later she felt a slight breeze as he drifted out her door.

*****

"Charlie, Charlie, you asleep?"

"Oh hey Ben, yeah I must have drifted off."

"What, you have a slow night or something?" Ben asked.

"Yeah, just one old lady. I finished her up and then sat down over here."

"Embalmed her and everything?"

"Yeah, nothing else to do, so I undressed her, washed her down and then went ahead and did the embalming."

"Was anyone else here?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"You don't drink coffee do you?"

"No," Charlie replied.

"Well, here's half a cup of coffee and it's still warm. And look over there, on the window."

"What is it?"

"Looks like streaks, like someone ran their fingers down the glass," Ben said, touching his finger to the streaks.

"It's just been me tonight, unless the old lady got up in the middle of her embalming and made coffee," Charlie replied. "Jill stopped down just as my shift was starting, perhaps she left the coffee on the radiator there. That's the only warm place down here."

"Yeah, I guess that was it. Hey listen, the wind has really got those wind chimes tingling today."

"I've been hearing those things all night long, kind of a sad sound it seems."

"Yeah, like yearning for something," Ben chimed.