Chapter Eight

Snow

I woke up before dawn just like I did every morning. It was something that I had taught myself to do when I first left home and no longer had my mother to wake me up for school. I hated the sound of my alarm and lost sleep dreading being startled awake by it. I tried everything from an old-fashioned alarm clock that rattled bells to every option on my phone. No matter what I tried, whether it was singing crickets, barking dogs, or whimsical music, it had the same jarring effect, and eventually I trained myself to wake up ten minutes before it was supposed to go off just so that I didn’t have to hear it. The challenge then was learning not to just let myself roll over and go back to sleep, but several missed classes and a particularly regretful speech done in my slippers because I ran out of time getting ready taught me to climb out of bed even before I turned off the alarm. That was still the way that I started each day, but that morning as I was starting to get out of bed I remembered that I didn’t have an alarm set and there was nowhere that I needed to be. Smiling at the simple indulgence of it, I tucked myself back into the soft bed and let myself fall back to sleep.

I didn’t wake up again until I heard the click of my door and sat up, pulling the blankets up to my chest in the same way that I had the bubbles. I looked around, but the room was empty. The dinner tray from the night before had been removed from the stand in front of the davenport and replaced with one containing an abundant breakfast. I at once wondered if the man who had brought me dinner the night before had been the one to bring me breakfast, and hoped that it wasn’t him so that he hadn’t seen me sprawled in the bed, no makeup and likely snoring considering the incredible depth of sleep I had reached. It was an unexpected thought and I didn’t understand why I cared if he had seen me that way. He was gorgeous, there was no doubt about that, but that shouldn’t really have had any impact on me other than the brief but explosive dream I’d had about him before waking up to what I now assumed was the sound of him leaving the room.

I lingered over the breakfast of eggs, bacon, pancakes, fruit, and then stood staring through the back window at the woods as I slowly drank the succulent coffee. I always drank my coffee black, but there was something special about this coffee that made it taste almost as though it had been swirled with dark, rich chocolate. I didn’t even miss my doughnuts.

Once I finished my coffee, I took my time getting dressed and putting on my makeup. It felt foreign to have nothing but time on my hands, but with every minute that I was able to relax and do exactly as I wanted, I was feeling more liberated. I took a few extra seconds to add another coat of mascara, and then a few more to wipe away the smears beneath my eyes. I pondered over what clothes to wear, even though the wardrobe that I brought was quite limited. I even took the time to stare into the mirror and sweep my hair into a complex braided style rather than simply wearing it down because it was easier. Though it took me five times as long to get ready as it usually does, I felt calm and put together when I walked out of my room and started down the hallway toward the front room of the cottage.

I didn’t know exactly what I was supposed to do that day. Fawn had said that we would meet to discuss my retreat, but she hadn’t told me when or where. I figured that I could probably have stayed in my room and she would have come for me when she wanted to talk, but I didn’t want to just sit around. I had time and I wanted to use it.

I looked around as I walked through the cottage, trying to find indications of other guests that might also be staying at the retreat. I didn’t notice any, however, and soon found myself lured outside to explore the lush surroundings again. The air was chillier than the day before and I wrapped my arms tightly around myself to ward off the cold. Layers of crisp, spicy, and earthy smells surrounded me with the essence of fall and I suddenly felt the urge to do all of those fall nesting activities that you see in magazines or TV movies. I wanted to wrap up in a wool blanket with a mug of hot cider and watch leaves fall. I wanted to pick a pumpkin and put it on the porch. I wanted to start thinking about Thanksgiving even though it was still months away. The impact of the woods was strange, but I welcomed it, telling myself that getting out of my routine and doing something new was exactly what I had intended when I made plans to come here. This felt like just the beginning and I needed to be open to whatever it was going to bring me.

The driveway in front of the cottage that the limo had brought me up the day before was still empty and I stepped off of it onto a narrow walkway that appeared to be made of large flat river rocks. The walkway led me around the side of the cottage and to the back into the woods that I had seen from the windows in my room. The leaves in the trees had started to change colors and the variety of hues throughout the woods gave them more depth so that they seemed to go on forever into the distance. Tucked close to the house was a small garden containing the last lingering vestiges of the late summer harvest and a coiling pumpkin vine with ripening fruits nestled among the deep green leaves.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

The same voice that had startled me in the front room the day before showed up behind me again and I whipped around to see Fawn. It seemed that she only knew how to approach me by sneaking up behind me.

“What’s amazing?” I asked.

“That something so beautiful can just grow out of nothing. I didn’t even plant those pumpkins. I just tossed one of my pumpkins from last year out into the garden to nourish the soil for the vegetable garden this season, then early this summer I noticed that there were sprouts and now look. I’ll have enough pumpkins to decorate and cook with later this fall.”

I nodded at her.

“That is amazing,” I said. I looked at the pumpkins for a few more seconds before turning back to Fawn. “I noticed that there aren’t any other rooms in the cottage,” I said. “Where do the other guests sleep?”

“No other guests,” she said.

“None?” I asked.

Fawn shook her head.

“No. We only welcome one guest at a time. Like I told you, this is all about you. No one else. Everything is intended to allow you to focus on your own experience and making the most of it. Speaking of which, are you ready to plan?”

I nodded, unsure of what to think about being the only guest at the retreat. How did Robin get the brochure for this place? I hadn’t even bothered to ask him. And how did I manage to get in so fast? It felt like there was something else in play, but I didn’t know what it could possibly be. Fawn started back up the path toward the front door of the house and I followed her. When we got inside, she led me into what looked like a parlor off of the main front room. A table had been set up between two overstuffed chairs and it held a tray with a steaming teapot, two tea cups, and a plate of cookies. Fawn settled into one of the chairs and reached for the teapot. I watched as she poured the tea into both cups, breathing in the warm smell of apple and cinnamon that filled the steam that rose up from them. When she sat the pot back on the table, I picked up the cup closest to me and took a sip. The tea had all of the flavors that I had been thinking about when walking outside and I felt myself relax even further.

“Have you given any thought to the type of men you would like?”

Until then.

I nearly spit out my tea. I struggled to swallow it and sat the cup back on the table, hearing it shudder slightly as my hand shook.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

Fawn didn’t look at all thrown off by my reaction. She took another casual sip of her tea and reached for one of the delicate cookies on the plate.

“The men,” she said. “Did you have time to think about the type of men who you would like to encounter during your retreat?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head as I tried to process what she meant. “I don’t think that I’m following you. I thought that this retreat was meant as a place to relax.”

“It is,” Fawn said. “But I told you that its main purpose is to help you find what you have been looking for. Look into yourself, Snow. What have you been missing in life? What do you want to find?”

I drew in a breath.

“I don’t understand what men have to do with that.”

Fawn laughed slightly.

“I think you do,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with it, Snow. There’s nothing wrong with you wanting to break out of what has always been expected of you and find what is really inside of you. Have you ever thought about your fantasies? Like really thought about them?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do, Snow. You don’t have to pretend with me. I’m here to help you find what you enjoy and what that means for you both when you are with men and in your life outside of those relationships. Whether you are with the man for one night or the rest of your life, what really matters is that you know yourself and stay true to that. That’s why I’m here. I’m going to help you find yourself.”

“How?”

“You tell me what you like. Tell me your fantasies. I’ll find men that fit those fantasies and you will get to experience them. They will come to you and bring you on the date of your dreams. What you do on that date is up to you, but I suggest you live it to the fullest. When you’re finished with your experience, you will know far more about yourself and what you want out of your life.”

“These men,” I said, trying to understand the details. “Who are they?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Fawn said.

“Yes, it does.”

“Does it? I told you. This is about you. All about you. The men are just instruments. They’re there to show you what’s possible. What you do with it from there is up to you. You won’t know the men’s real names. They all have aliases. You won’t talk about your real life and they won’t tell you about themselves unless it has something to do with the date.”

“I don’t really know how to feel about all this. I thought that I was just going to come here and spend a few days relaxing. Maybe meditating a little. Just getting away from everything.”

“What are you trying to get away from?”

I thought about Lucille and everything that had happened, then what she and Robin had said to me. Each of them had their own perception of me, but in the end, it was the same. I had let my life pass me by thinking about everyone else and doing what I thought would make them happy. It had been so engrained in me, so much of a routine, that I didn’t even think about it. Once it occurred to me, however, I realized that I was really sick of it and didn’t want to let it happen anymore.

“You asked me about my fantasies,” I said, skirting the question.

“Yes,” Fawn said. “Tell me about them. Don’t be shy. The more that you tell me, the better I’m going to be at finding the men who are going to make this the best experience for you.”

“That’s the thing,” I said. “I don’t really know.”

“Oh?” Fawn said, setting her cup down as if she wanted to give me her full attention. “You’ve never thought about your fantasies?”

“No,” I admitted, deciding that this was the time to be as honest as possible. “I’ve only slept with one person in my life, and our sex life was always…less than satisfying.”

“He wasn’t a good lover?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t even know. I don’t have anything to compare it to, but I can tell you that it was never something that I was terribly enthusiastic about.”

“If you don’t know if he was a good lover or not, I can tell you that he wasn’t. That makes your experience even more important. You deserve to know what it’s like to completely lose yourself in sex. To enjoy it with every bit of your mind and your body. The men I find for you can help you with that, but first, you have some discovering to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Beyond the vegetable garden behind the cottage is another path. Follow it. We’ll have dinner together tonight. We’ll talk then.”

“What’s at the end of the path?” I asked.

Fawn stood and gestured to the door to the parlor. I could only assume she was indicating that it was time for me to go to the path.

“You’ll find out,” she said. “Enjoy.”

I got the distinct impression that the conversation was over and that she wasn’t going to give me any more insight into what was awaiting me down the path. I stepped out of the cottage and followed the path to the back, then found the second path that led away from the vegetable garden. This path was smaller and not as well maintained as the first. Not that it looked abandoned or neglected. It simply looked like it was not used anywhere near as often as the path that led to the back of the cottage. I felt strangely special as soon as I stepped onto the path, as though I was getting a privilege that few others were given. That feeling fueled me on and I followed the path curiously. It wove through the small lush yard and into the thick woods just beyond. All of the wonderful fall smells were intensified here and I filled my lungs with them, getting the same intoxicating feeling as I had before, somehow nostalgic for something that I hadn’t even really experienced before.

The path led further and deeper into the woods than I would have anticipated that it would and I was starting to get nervous when I finally saw another small cottage appear several yards ahead of me. I climbed the few steps that led to the front door and hesitated. I didn’t know if I should knock or just enter. Finally, I decided to just go in and pressed the ornate metal handle, pushing the door into the building. I had expected this cottage to be much the same as the first, but what greeted me was completely different.

I stepped immediately into a large room that appeared to take up the majority of the building. There was a single door to either side of the room, nearly hidden against the rich purple brocade wall covering. The wall in front of me, however, was completely mirrored. A few pieces of furniture were scattered through the room, with a single large chair the same shade as the walls, positioned so that it faced the mirrored wall. I looked around, unsure of why I was there or what I was supposed to be doing. I noticed a table a few steps away and saw that there was a piece of paper on it. Walking toward it, I realized that it had writing on it.

I picked up the paper, surprised to see that it was addressed to me. I didn’t know if that meant that it had been waiting for me all along, or if Fawn had somehow arranged for it to be put into place while I was still on my way down the path.

“Snow,” I read, “on your journey to find yourself you must start by discovering yourself. Be open. Be unafraid. Allow yourself to explore and remember, this is about you.”

Feeling even more confused than before I had started reading, I put the paper back down and turned to leave, intending to go back to Fawn and tell her that I wasn’t sure that this was right for me. Before I could get to the door, however, one of the doors to the side of the room opened and a figure stepped into the room with me. He was shirtless, low-slung black pants revealing his chiseled body. I was so focused on his muscles that it took me a few moments to register his face. It was the same beautiful man that had brought me my dinner the night before and, I assumed, my breakfast that morning. His eyes locked on me as he stepped up closer.

“Should I help you undress?” he asked, his voice as rich and creamy as his eyes.

My mouth fell open slightly in shocked response to the question.

“What?” I asked.

“Should I help you undress or would you prefer to do it yourself?”

I felt a shiver ripple through me and a spark of desire in the back of my mind that I hadn’t felt in as long as I could remember. I thought of the words in the letter and what Fawn had said to me. I had been so unsure of what was happening and the purpose of this retreat, but instead of explaining it to me, she had sent me here and told me to be open. I was still unsure, still nervous. I didn’t know what to do. Part of me wanted to run out of the cottage and go back to my house so that I could pretend like none of this had happened. Another part of me, though, was curious in a way that I could never remember myself being. Not wanting to speak for fear of what I would say, I nodded.

The man stepped closer to me and brought his hands to the hem of my sweater. I lifted my arms to allow him to lift the sweater up and off of me. He folded it carefully and rested it on a nearby couch, then returned to remove my camisole. Once I was in my bra, he opened the button on the front of my pants and began to ease the zipper down. I stepped out of my shoes and socks as he opened my pants the rest of the way and brought them down my hips. He lowered himself to his knees in front of me so that he could bring my pants to my ankles and helped me step out of them. When they were on the couch with my shirts, the man came back to my side and took my wrist, he guided me across the room, stopping when I stood beside the chair facing the mirror, then turned me so that I faced the same way.

“Go ahead,” he said.

Knowing what he meant, I released the hooks on the back of my bra and let it slide down my arms, then removed my matching panties. It was an incredibly strange sensation standing in the room completely naked in front of a stranger, but at the same time it felt liberating.

“Look at yourself,” he said. “Really look at yourself.”

At first it was an odd instruction. I looked at myself every day. When I turned my attention fully to the mirror, however, I realized that this was different. Looking at myself each day was usually about doing my makeup, styling my hair, or making sure that my outfit looked right. I couldn’t remember the last time that I had taken the time to just look at myself, especially naked, if I ever had.

Squaring my body to the mirror, I let my eyes start at my shoulders and trailed them down my body. I examined the swells of my breasts and the pink of my nipples, noticing how they had hardened slightly in the cool air of the cottage. My eyes moved slightly lower and I turned, tilting enough to see the ridges of my ribs become visible under my skin. This led into the dip of my waist, then the curve of my hip. I had always felt somewhat self-conscious about the soft swells of my body, but as I looked at them this way I started to see them as feminine and attractive. My eyes slipped lower to the wisps of fine hair nestled at the apex of my thighs. Heat rose to my cheeks, but before I was able to look away, the man stepped up behind me and I felt him wrap his arms around me. I drew in a breath, expecting him to touch me. Instead, he rested his hands to the back of mine so that he could pick them up and bring them up to my breasts.

I allowed the man to guide my hands to rest on my breasts and felt him give a slight, leading squeeze. His hands fell away, but I left mine in place, massaging into my breasts and running them across my nipples. I felt the peaks tighten even more in response to the touch and an unexpected sensation rush through my body. My ex had never spent much time focusing on my body, giving any time or attention to giving me pleasure he didn’t think would benefit him. Now I was discovering that even that slight touch was enough to cause anticipation to build in my belly.

I traced my body with my hands in the same way that I had with my eyes, feeling the texture of my skin and the contrast of the bones beneath in some areas and the softness in others.

“Sit down.”

I had nearly forgotten that the man was in the room with me and I glanced over my shoulder in my reflection to look at him. He was standing beside the purple chair, smoothing what looked like a silky blanket over it. I took the few steps over to the chair, aware of the tingling between my thighs that had started under my touch and increased by the thought of the man there with me. I sat on the chair and felt the smooth fabric of the blanket tease my skin. As soon as I had settled into place, the man walked around to the back of the chair and reached down on either side of me to tuck his hands between my thighs. He applied pressure until I complied with it and allowed him to part my legs. I felt a twinge of nervousness and resisted the pressure. He responded my pressing a little harder. I didn’t feel forced, more encouraged, as though he wasn’t going to give me the chance to give up on what I had started.

When my legs were open, my feet curved so that just my toes touched the floor in front of the chair, he brought his mouth close to my ear.

“Look at yourself,” he whispered.

I did as he said, bringing my focus down between my parted thighs. I had never looked at myself that way and though there was a hint of discomfort in the newness of it, the longer I looked, the more intrigued I became by my own body. I tried to remember what it felt like when my ex had touched me, trying to link those sensations to what I was seeing now, but I couldn’t bring any memories forward.

“Are you wet?” he asked.

I drew in a shuddering breath.

“I don’t know,” I said.

He walked around the chair until he was in front of me and lowered back down to his knees the way that he had when he was helping me undress. Without warning, he leaned forward and drew his tongue up my core. I gasped at the intense, unknown feeling and watched him climb back to his feet.

“You are now,” he said. “Feel.”

I brought my hand down between my thighs, hesitating for only a moment before I let my fingertip slip down into my folds. I felt the wetness there, the combination of his incredibly sexy lick and my body’s own fluids. I touched the swollen pearl at the peak of my core and nearly cried out at the intensity of the sensation.

“Watch,” the man said to me. “Watch yourself.”

Feeling bolder, I looked into the mirror and watched as I explored myself. I felt the curves and dips of my petals, intoxicated by the combination of feeling intricacies of my body that I had never known were there while watching myself create the powerful pleasure. The more I touched, the more my body responded, offering up more of the silky fluids. I gathered them with my fingertips to allow them to move more easily as I experimented with different patterns and pressures to create different sensations. I was learning myself, finding things that I enjoyed that I had never known, and stirring feelings within myself that were beyond anything that I had ever experienced. A compulsion washed over me and I brought two fingers down to press them inside me. I felt the heat and wetness of my walls around my fingers and I plunged them deeper, enjoying the slight stretch they caused.

I could feel tingling heat sweeping over my skin as my breath grew faster and more shallow. I wanted to close my eyes and give myself over completely to the sensations that I was feeling, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to miss watching for even a second. Pressure was building through my hips and stomach, and I pressed my thighs further apart, opening myself more and allowing my fingers to go deeper. I turned my hand slightly so that I could touch the pad of my thumb to my clit. It took only seconds of stroking for all of the pressure within my body to surge up until it was almost unbearable and then it crashed. I screamed at the powerful explosion of sensation and pressed my fingers as hard into myself as I could, feeling my walls spasming frantically around them.

This was something that I had never felt, an all-encompassing, breathtaking experience that seemed to bring me out of myself yet connected me more with my body than I had ever been. As my body relaxed and I felt the contractions slow and stop, I let my fingers slip out and my hand rest against my thigh. My eyes drifted closed and I concentrated on the rhythm of my heart and my breaths evening out again.

I didn’t know how long I reclined there, but when I opened my eyes again, there was a warm damp cloth and a fresh towel beside me and the man was gone. I took my time to freshen up and get dressed, then started back down the path toward the main cottage at a faster pace. Fawn was sitting beside the vegetable garden, slowly watering the pumpkin vine. She looked up as I approached.

“I’m in,” I said breathlessly.

A smile came to Fawn’s lips and she stood.

“Do you know your fantasies yet?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“No,” I said. “But I want to know.”

“Alright. Then we’ll try a little of everything. How many men would you like me to find for you?”

I thought about her question for a moment. My mind felt clear but also like it was rushing, spinning as I contemplated the possibilities that lay ahead of me. I remembered what Robin told me and felt a smile come to my lips. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right.

“Seven.”