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It was so cold I decided to keep walking as I tried to hitch a ride. Standing still was out of the question, it was just too cold. In the last ten minutes the rain had gone from falling vertically to horizontal and the icy drops of water began to hit my face; stinging like tiny needles against any exposed skin.

The wind was kicking up anything that was loose on the ground and firing it around like shrapnel. To make things worse the rain was turning to sleet and I could tell that snow wasn’t far off. The temperature was getting lower by the minute and I was not only soaked to the skin, I was freezing. I needed a lift soon or I’d be suffering from hypothermia.

My breath became visible each time I exhaled. I began to cough occasionally as I breathed in the icy cold air. I wondered what the hell I was doing hitch-hiking in this weather, I must be mad. It wasn’t supposed to get this bad in October, was it? The radio report I’d heard a couple of hours ago had said it was going to be ‘sporadic showers’. Sporadic showers right! The rain had not stopped for a long time and going at it like there was no tomorrow. It was going to kill me if I didn’t get out of it, and soon. There had been no mention of this freezing weather front or the chance of snow. What the hell was happening? It felt as though someone was manipulating the weather to change my travel plans.

A truck driver had dropped me off at a road junction about two miles back and the area I was now walking through was definitely unfamiliar territory. I took a hurried look at my soggy road map but this place, wherever it was, was too small to be shown. I saw the name of the last town I’d gone through and easily picked out the next main town on the map, about thirty miles further on. But, there was nothing to be seen between them. As far as my map was concerned this was wilderness.

I started to walk quicker to try to keep warm; my head down and the collar on my jacket pulled up around my ears to keep out the rain. I couldn’t figure out what happened next but the hairs on the back of my neck were standing out on end. I distinctly felt that my balls were trying to retreat into my belly, leaving my scrotum a cold and empty sack.

It seemed to get dark so suddenly that I looked around to see if a street light had blown a bulb. My head quickly revolved to see if I could pick out what had happened. I noticed that there weren’t any lights to be seen anywhere. Looking up and down the road it was obvious that there hadn’t been any street lights for at least the last mile that I’d walked.

The change that caused the remaining daylight to plunge into darkness had been caused by something other than an electrical shutdown. There was a distinct smell of ozone in the air. Maybe this was what had made me think subconsciously of a blown light bulb? A feeling washed over me and I felt certain that somebody or something was increasing the manipulation factor. I thought – maybe someone is trying to introduce themselves?

Whatever it was I was hoping that a vehicle would stop soon and give me a ride away from this cold and scary little place.

Another half mile of hard walking and I saw headlights raking the darkness from behind my shoulder. I began to frantically wave my thumb in the hope that the driver would see me and stop. The car went howling by, a dense spray of freezing water was thrown up by the tyres and it soaked me even more than I was already. My head automatically bent down to let the water run from my hair to the ground, I knew that if I didn’t do this it would join the rest of the icy water that was coursing down my neck and make its way into the crack of my ass and beyond.

As I was chanting my “I must get out of this weather” mantra I heard the vehicle that had passed me come to a halt some fifty yards further up the road. I then saw the reverse lights come on, and the car made its way back to me. It was snaking slightly as it raced across the ground in reverse, the differential howled in protest at going backwards too quickly. I thought, “Jesus, this guy is going to kill me…” Then, as the car stopped a couple of feet from me I began to think, “Yes! I’ve got me a lift. Thank you, thank you, I’ve got a lift.”

It was a large black 1960’s Chevrolet. The chrome alone must have weighed as much a Honda. The window on my side opened and a quiet female voice said, “Where are you going?”

I leaned in toward the window and said, “I’m heading about thirty miles or so up the road. Anywhere close to the next town would be much appreciated. That’s about as far as I’m going to get tonight. I’ll look for somewhere to stay when I get there.”

“Please, get in. How long have you been out in this awful weather?”

I opened the rear door, took off my pack and as I threw it onto the back seat I said, “My last lift dropped me off about an hour ago.” I was shivering and the words came out as though I was stuttering, each word jerked its way out of me like they were tied to a string that had a knot every inch along its length. I was talking kaynarca escort like a young kid reciting poetry. I tried hard not to shake but it just wasn’t working. I must have been a lot closer to hypothermia than I realised.

“Well, just make yourself comfortable; I’ll turn up the heater and see if we can get you warm again.” She seemed friendly enough, and unconcerned that she’d just picked up a man in the middle of nowhere. All I needed right at the moment was the warmth from the heater and a little T.L.C. from wherever it was on offer.

As I’d got into the car I could smell her perfume. I was thinking how nice it was, but all I could really concentrate on was the water leaking from my clothes onto the seat, then making its way onto floor of the car. I looked down and said, “I’m sorry about getting your car wet.”

“That’s OK, it’ll dry off. No harm done.” She offered her hand and said, “By the way, my name is Beverley. It has an “E”, unlike the TV program about hillbillies.” We shook hands briefly and I could feel how warm she was. It somehow made me feel that much colder.

“HI Beverley, I’m Danny, Danny Lehman.” I turned my head toward her as I introduced myself and I felt like I was not going to be able to look away again. The woman driving the car, Beverley, was absolutely stunning. She was older than me; maybe twice my age… perhaps early 40’s; about the same age my mother would be if she was still alive.

Her hair was what held my attention; it was almost to her waist. It was jet black, except for a streak of white about an inch wide that ran through the centre. It was pulled together in a pony tale, held with a flexible gold band. Without touching it, I knew that it would be as soft as silk. The noise it made as it swished against her dress was something I don’t recall hearing before.

I managed to drag my eyes away as she looked toward me and laughed. I’d obviously been staring at her and she said, “Has the cat got your tongue? I just asked you a question.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

“I said are you getting warmer? I can either turn the heater up or you’re welcome to take a drink from the flask in the glove-box.”

I was still confused and a little embarrassed from being caught staring – like a schoolboy looking up his teachers dress from under his desk. “I’m sorry Beverley, what flask?”

“It’s a witch’s brew that will make you feel good; after all it is All Saints Eve… you know, Halloween, tonight.” She gave a theatrical, high pitched laugh like a loon. It soon had me laughing with her.

“I don’t want to turn your car into a sauna by asking for the heater to go up even higher so I’ll try your ‘witch’s brew’.”

Her head turned toward me again and she gave me a broad smile. She didn’t speak, she just smiled. As I looked at her, she returned her eyes to the road and I took in the rest of her at a glance. She was dressed in a tight black wool dress, at least it was tight around her chest, and then from the waist it billowed out slightly with a slit reaching to mid thigh. The front of her dress plunged low enough that her cleavage showed stark white against the black material. From where the dress finished above the ankle I could see black leather knee length boots, a grey leather lace zig-zagged up the outside of the boot.

The stockings covering her legs beyond the boots were also black; I could see them through the slit up the side of the dress. It was again hard to remove my eyes from this vision. Old enough to be my mother or not, this was a very good looking woman. I wondered what she would look like without the dress; maybe just standing there in the black boots and stockings.

I removed the flask from the glove-box; it had a coat of arms engraved on the front. The back was covered in red leather that was attached at the base. The coat of arms showed a phoenix rising from the ashes of an object on fire; on closer inspection it was a globe, but not the earth. The wings of the fabulous bird were smoldering as it went into the sky, its beak open in pain. The inscription below the drawing was in a language I didn’t understand. I just knew it was not English, Latin or French.

I removed the heavy silver top and tipped the flask to my lips. The witch’s brew turned out to be either a fine brandy, or a really smooth whiskey. I was no expert on liquor but I guessed that this was probably an expensive Napoleon Brandy or maybe an old Scottish Malt Whiskey. What I did know was that it tasted superb; there wasn’t a hint of the harsh taste that went with the cheap liquor I’d tasted at parties. As it went down my throat it warmed my insides instantly. The river of warmth continued all the way into my stomach. “This is excellent Beverley. What is it?”

“Yes it is, isn’t it? That, Danny, is 1858 single malt, from the Loch Airy Distillery in Inverness, Scotland.”

“That is very old! How on earth did you get a hold of that? If my dad was alive he’d be in seventh heaven.”

“I have the original küçükyalı escort bottle in my study at home; I bought it at auction last year, on this same date. If your father was a fan of good whiskey, he would have been in 8th or 9th heaven after a sip. This really is the best-of-the-best if you are a malt whiskey drinker. However, if you’re not, it’s still very good for getting you warm again after being out in foul weather!”

After another long sip of the whiskey the cold began to retreat and I relaxed and tried to get more comfortable. It was a lot easier than I thought it was going to be because minutes later my eyelids started to droop. I didn’t want to fall asleep; I knew I wouldn’t be in the car long; the next town was only thirty miles further on. I glanced at my watch, it was 6.30pm.


I woke with a start, totally confused. I sat up and was immediately pulled back by the seat belt. My head slammed back into the seat and I said, “What the… what time is it? Where are we?” I looked at my watch and it was a few minutes before 8.00pm. “Are we there yet?”

“No. Well, yes – we were there, but I continued on. I hope you don’t mind, I only live another ten miles further on and it seemed pointless to have you stay in a motel, or worse still – rough it outside, when I have perfectly good spare beds available at my place. I don’t have a husband or family and the people that are coming around later aren’t planning to stay over. We can have dinner before they arrive, then you can disappear when I meet with them. What do you say?”

“Well, I hadn’t sort of planned to…” I stumbled over my words, still half asleep.

“If you don’t like it when we get there, I’ll turn around and bring you back again. How’s that for a deal?”

What could I say, I was being invited to dinner and a night in a beautiful woman’s house, with no strings attached. “OK, Beverley. You have a deal. Thanks.”


Twenty minutes later we pulled into her driveway. This was some driveway; it must have been the best part of three hundred yards long. Every thirty yards or so there was an ornate lamp splashing a pool of light onto the black surface of the driveway. The lamps looked like replicas of the old gas lights that were seen in London in the early 1900’s. Beverley was driving much slower as the rain had stopped and a mist was rising from the paddocks to each side of the drive. It was turning into quite a thick fog as it made its way across the fence and moved into the path of the car

The lights for the driveway must have automatically activated as we cut through an electronic beam entering the property. The house remained in darkness until the car nosed its way passed the front door. Another beam was broken and lights went on around the garden area and above the doorway.

I had not been able to see the end of the driveway from the road, but as we came to the end of the drive a magnificent old house came into view. There were high stone chimneys and a large veranda going all the way around the place.

As the lights illuminated the house it was obvious that it was actually not really old at all. It looked like something from a movie; it then struck me that it looked just like Tara, the house from ‘Gone with the Wind’. The architect had done a great job. The design seemed unusual, but if you’re wealthy the unusual is easier to achieve. Whoever Beverley was, she was obviously very wealthy.

“OK Danny, here we are, welcome to my home.” She switched off the car, opened her door and stepped out. As I did the same on my side of the car I made an involuntary shiver as the cold hit me. “We’d better get you inside and crank up the heating or you’ll catch your death. I think a hot bath is the order of the day for you while I make us some dinner.”

As we entered the house I was absolutely floored by the luxurious interior. My mouth must have remained open as I was mesmerized by the opulence around me. Large doors lead off to both the left and the right. The floors were made of a deep red timber; it was polished to a shine that looked as though it was covered in glass. The rugs were strategically placed about the massive area beyond the entrance; they must have taken someone a long time to choose, they matched their individual surroundings perfectly.

Looking beyond the entrance hall I could see the huge living room and separate doors that presumably went through to the kitchen and dining areas. Everything about the place was fantastic. I had never seen anything like this in my life.

As Beverley altered the thermostat up a few degrees she said, “Well, what do you think of my home Danny?”

I closed my mouth, and said, “Beverley, this is awesome. I am very impressed.”

“Thank you. Now, don’t stand there in your cold wet clothes, to the bathroom with you! Follow me.”

As I followed her up a sweeping staircase she swayed slightly from side to side as she lifted her legs from one stair tread to the next. My brief review of Beverley in the car had sancaktepe escort not really done justice to what I was now seeing. She had a magnificent figure and obviously spent a lot of time keeping it that way. I didn’t know what her body was like below the black dress but if it was anything like I could see from the outside it had to be something else.

At the top of the stairs we went to the left and three doors along the landing she showed me into a bathroom that was as big as my apartment. There was a huge spa bath in the middle of the room. A shower was in the corner facing me; it had no doors or curtains, it was just a large concave tiled floor area that had six shower heads facing the centre at different levels and different angles. In another corner there was a toilet and a bidet. Everything in the room was in shades of ivory. The lighting made everything appear clean and without a shadow showing anywhere. The overall effect was very clever; the designer obviously knew their stuff.

Hanging on coat hooks on the wall next to the door there were three huge fluffy white bathrobes, like the ones they make available in really top-class hotels. Each of them had the same coat of arms that I’d seen on the hip-flask. Next to these were a row of shelves that held at least a dozen large white towels. On shelves above the towels were bottles of shampoo, bars of soap, shaving gear and all sorts of creams and potions, all of them were new, unopened.

“Help yourself to whatever you need Danny. When you have finished I’ll show you where you can get some other clothes to wear.”

“Hey, Beverley, this is very kind of you, thanks a lot.”

“That’s OK; I’m just pleased that I can help. Do you like lasagna? It’s one of my favourite meals. It’ll only take an hour or so to make and we’ll be eating by 9.15. That gives us plenty of time before my guests arrive.”

“Lasagna sounds good to me, as long as you have a very cold Dom Perignon ’48 to go with it? I laughed as I said this and Beverley just gave me another one of her smiles. She turned and left the bathroom and I began running the bath while I peeled off my cold wet clothes.

Five minutes later I was up to my neck in foam, the bubbles spilling over the side of the bath as the jets beneath the water pummeled my body and replaced the aching cold that had been there for hours with welcome warmth.

As I soaked in the lap of luxury I could hear classical music coming from downstairs, probably from where Beverley was making dinner. The music was something familiar so I began to hum the tune – most of the time off-key. As I relaxed I began to think about this amazing turn of events in just a matter of hours. One minute I was almost suffering from hypothermia and the next I was having a hot spa bath while a beautiful looking woman prepared dinner for us in the kitchen of her multi-million dollar house. When I thought that someone or something was manipulating the action around me, he or she was definitely doing it in style.

My body sank deeper into the warmth of the spa until the only thing not under water was my head, above the chin. As my mind wandered I felt, rather than heard, Beverley enter the bathroom. She smiled as I turned around to look at her, I pushed up so that most of my chest was now out of the water and I got comfortable on the seat that stuck out from the side of the spa wall.

“So, are you enjoying your warming up process Danny?” She placed the small stack of clothes she’d brought with her on the lowest shelf, and then grabbed one of the towels as she came further into the room. As she came closer to the spa her feet did not seem to be touching the tiles of the floor. I couldn’t make out why there was no noise as her leather boots made there way across the room.

“Yes, this is fantastic. I feel human again.”

As she got to closer she folded the towel and placed it carefully on the side wall of the spa. She sat side-saddle, and then slowly and deliberately stared at me. It was not a stare that was intimidating, in fact I felt very comfortable as she looked at me; as though she could read me like an open book.

“Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, so if you’d like to jump out and try on those clothes I will get ready to serve.” She was standing again, nodding her head toward the shelf. She then held the towel at shoulder height beckoning me to stand and take the towel from her. A little self-consciously I raised myself from the water and took the towel from her as she continued to stare directly into my eyes.

As my body got warmer my mind free-wheeled for a moment. I thought, tomorrow, November 1st, is my 21st birthday. Beverley innocently helped wrap the towel around my waist. Her smile flashed once more and she turned and left the room as quickly as she had entered.

I don’t know how she had known what size of clothes I would need, or where she had got them from, but everything I put on was a perfect fit. As soon as I finished dressing I made my way downstairs and followed the music and the wonderful smells that were coming out of the kitchen. Beverley was serving up the lasagna onto two deep plates as I entered the kitchen. As the vegetables were placed next to this she said, “Would you like to take these through to the dining room Danny, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

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