“Is this far enough to the–” Quinn turned around, only to see Imaani taking off her sweater while seated in the sleeping bag, then moving to lift off her t-shirt over her head. “What–Imaani, what–” he swiveled to look away from her, dumbstruck, his face growing hot. When he slowly turned his head again, she was clad only in a black bra and matching panties.
“Relax, Red,” she told him. “Four hours is enough to freeze in this weather, so we have to share our body heat while we still have it. Take off everything but your underwear and get in here with me. This is a quality winter sleeping bag that I bring on trips like this, just in…”
Quinn stopped hearing any words after she’d ordered him to strip and get into bed with her.
“Red!” Imaani exclaimed, snapping him out of his stupor. “Hurry and get in here; I’m already chilly. And bring your clothes. We can stuff them at the bottom so we’re not putting on freezing cold clothing when help finally shows up.”
Quinn started to mechanically take off his sweater, clearly distracted. Part of his brain wondered how he would hide his partial erection from his partner, while the other part drank in the smoothness of her mahogany skin and the fullness of her breasts. Goddamn, she’s even more stunning than I thought. The warm light of the setting Sun in the distance made her complexion glow further.
Imaani, meanwhile, was turned away and obliviously pulling on a knitted toque over her head. While she rummaged around to find an extra one for Quinn, he thought he would die as she pointed her perfectly round rump toward him.
He was now at full mast and down to his boxers, strategically holding his discarded clothes against his groin. He quickly darted into the sleeping bag as Imaani held it open.
“Is it alright if I get close?” she asked him after she pushed his things deep down in the bag.
Hestie de câlisse de tabarnac! Quinn screamed in his mind, his face keeping an even expression. Imaani was slim but her rear and hips curved out into strong, toned thighs.
Quinn couldn’t stop thinking about her butt and imagined what it would be like to press his arousal against it as he spooned her. Then he thought about her fingers in his hair and her legs wrapped around his waist while he buried himself deep inside her. Fuck, you idiot, stop it! She’s married!
“Well, is it?” Imaani asked again. “I know it’s awkward, Red, but we’re going to have to do this eventually and it’ll be more effective when we’re not half-frozen.” She pulled out his arm and curled up against his side, tucking her face partway down into the sleeping bag.
Quinn didn’t think it was possible but he got even harder when he felt her warm breath flow across his bare chest. He clenched his jaw as she put one of her impossibly smooth legs over his and one arm across his torso.
“Don’t make me feel weird about this, Red; you can hold me too,” Imaani said, finally sensing his discomfort. “If we put our legs together, it will help stop our toes from getting too cold.”
“No!” Quinn scrambled away, alarmed that she would feel his erection if her knees travelled too far north.
“Okay, okay, relax, dude,” Imaani was taken aback. “Here I thought you were the free-wheeling artist who bedded half the symphony, and you’re feeling shy with just me?” Quinn couldn’t help but think her smile was the brightest light in the quickly darkening vehicle.
“I’m relieved, to be honest. I’m usually the shyest one in most rooms,” Imaani added. When Quinn still wouldn’t look her in the eye, she tried another idea.
“Turn the other way,” she ordered. “I’ll spoon you and we’ll have maximum body contact that way.” That’s the worst way to do this, except for all the other terrible ways we could do this, Quinn considered. At least she won’t feel me standing at attention. He turned to his side and protectively placed his hand beneath his navel.
Imaani fit her knees to the back of his, her abdomen against his butt, and finally snaked her arm between his arm and torso while pressing her breasts to his back. Quinn bristled at the realization that her stiff nipples were poking into his skin.
She’s just cold, you asshole! he shouted at himself, wondering what he had done to deserve this torture. Okay, okay, think of Bach’s Cello Suite 1 in G major… think about the Marcello sonatas… his left hand moved as if on his cello’s fingerboard. He squeezed his eyes shut and played the music in his mind’s eye until he was softly humming it.
“What’s going on, Red?” Imaani’s silky breath warmed the nape of Quinn’s neck. “I didn’t think you were anywhere near this conservative. Think about it like us avoiding a hospital visit for hypo–”
“Imaani, I’ve had a crush on you since our first lesson together.” The words tumbled out of Quinn’s mouth before he could stop them. He swore he could feel her stiffen, but she didn’t move.
“Oh,” she said after an excruciating silence. “I… I had no idea. I probably should have in the last few minutes alone, though.” They both gave a weak laugh and fell back into an awkward pause.
“I thought I had it under control and I did,” Quinn went on. “Seeing you every week and jamming together was enough for me, and it’s been even nicer spending so much time together for concerts. I liked becoming friends and bandmates. I almost forgot about it until–”
“Until I started taking my clothes off,” Imaani finished with a guilty nod. “Should I… should I move?”
“No, you were right, we have to do this to tide us over until the service truck shows up,” he said. “I’m not going to do anything improper, but I just wanted you to know why I’m suddenly acting so strange. Any other excuse wouldn’t make sense, honestly.” Another long pause ensued while Imaani chose her words, her body frozen against Quinn’s.
“Tell me about how you grew up,” she finally said, tilting her face up to the dark red waves that brushed against his ear. Quinn turned his head slightly over his left shoulder, puzzled. “Well, we could become better friends or we could lie here in silence and dwell on the ridiculous level of awkwardness in this car,” Imaani rationalized.
Quinn laughed and put his hand atop hers, which was resting loosely near his chest. He told her about how he and his sister grew up in rural Québec, and how he turned to music after his mother was killed in a hunting accident.
“She, uh–I’ll spare you the details, but she was caught in a trap. It actually wasn’t that bad an injury. But the problem was we couldn’t save her because we lived so far away from the nearest hospital, and we couldn’t get her there in time. I was with her in the back of the truck while my dad drove, and she went into shock.”
Imaani winced, partly wondering how a little boy could survive watching that, and partly struck by the dispassionate way Quinn told her the story. He went on and said his mother’s death because of lack of accessible medical care was the reason his dad moved him and his younger sister to bigger townships.
“What happened shortly after was my aunt–my dad’s sister–lost her husband as well and she wasn’t able to support herself,” Quinn continued. “Their parents didn’t really believe in educating girls, you know? So she moved in with us, and she was so, so loving. I was young enough to sort of transfer the love I had for my mom to her, if that makes any sense at all.”