So Larissa watched the skies and counted the days, and waited.The first snow arrived a few days later. To the other farmers around Kimberling it was an early, unwanted guest. But Larissa welcomed the snow like an old friend. She busied herself, stabling the horses and stacking logs next to the fire and stove. From the cupboard she retrieved a pair of old silk sheets and laid them across the thin mattress of her bed - just in case, she told herself. She took out a white, laced dress that her grandmother had bequeathed her. Holding it against her body, she pushed up her hair and regarded herself in the mirror. Then she pulled a face at her reflection and put the dress away.It snowed for three days and nights, sifting floury, thick flakes upon the trees and pastureland. On the fourth afternoon, Larissa was looking out towards the west. There she spotted a figure, pulling a string of mules, shapeless and almost indistinct against the grey, white and black of the forest. Her heart leapt. As the evening went on I noticed the guys -- and Kathy and Steph, too -- had a tendency to run their hands over Beth's image. If that little statue had had voodoo powers she would have been in a constant orgasmic state. Not that she needed it with Carl there.After making the rounds greeting people and slaking our initial appetites for food, drink, and sex -- not necessarily in that order -- followed by a refreshing and cleansing dip in the pool, I cuddled and relaxed in Lance's arms, enjoying him, the night, the music and the chatter, only to have all that fade into the background at the unexpected sight of Greg Anderson emerging from the houseIn Program uniform, of course.Greg?! Here??!! My heart stopped. It was one of those cinematic moments, my vision zooming in on him even as everything else faded into a blur, the ringing in my ears drowning out the music. I hadn't seen him in over a year and he looked better than ever!Greg, my first real lover. He and I had done the deed.
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