© 2012 Raminar Dixon
This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All characters represented are consensual adults, eighteen years of age or older, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This work is property of Raminar Dixon, please do not reproduce illegally.
The air was freezing cold, wrapping around and through the small crowds of people that trotted up and down the sidewalks on St. Louis Square. Wind blew in big gusts, ruffling coat tails and hats and hair as it went. A happy couple, hand in hand, navigated the crowd, weaving in and out and in between. They laughed and talked and fought against the wind together. To anyone that noticed them, they appeared to be a normal couple in love. They finally reached their destination, a well-kept and newly renovated brownstone apartment, and dashed inside out of the weather.
“My god, it’s freezing out there tonight, Jennifer,” said the young man, his cheeks flush with red from the cold. “Gotta be in the negatives, at least.”
The young woman smiled at him and rubbed her hands together before stripping off her thick coat and hanging it up on a hook by the front door. Before replying, she took him in, her eyes wandering over his rugged handsomeness, his bristly unshaven face, and his dark eyes.
“Jeremy, I think you need to warm me up,” she said, and slipped both freezing hands under his shirt and around his body.
He flinched, shocked for a moment by her icy hands. She hadn’t worn her gloves and the pockets of her coat had done little to keep them warm.