Snowstorm

Snowstorm
Part Nine

Alan used the shower as I sat on the sofa, listening to the radio. There was a talk show playing and the man's voice drifted through the background. I could hear the sound of the water running in the shower and the faint whoosh of the wind through the trees outside. Night had fallen without preamble and I'd sat on the sofa for the past hour, staring into space. Alan cleared the dishes himself. Washed and set them on the drain board next to our empty tea cups from earlier.

He must have thought I'd completely lost it. He'd tried to shake me from my sudden state of apathy for a few moments. But, I merely shoved him away and looked elsewhere. Finally, heaving a sigh, he'd left me alone. I felt another stab of pain for behaving this way towards him.

I suppose it was selfish of me, to react in such a manner, pulling myself inward. But, I didn't know what else to do. Tears didn't help. Screaming and wailing didn't help. Nothing helped. Nothing. I was so scared. I was so fucking scared of leaving. I knew, the moment I saw my mother's face it would be all over. The look of horror and fear-mingled-relief I could see upon her roundish face if I closed my eyes.

The expression of shame and guilt well blended with anger and blame crossing my father's rugged features. I knew, deep inside, that those were my own fears, my own imagination working against me, but at the moment I didn't care. I'd told Alan I believed him when he'd told me I wasn't to blame. But, if I were to be honest with myself, I could not.

"Beth?" I blinked and looked up. I had been so caught in my own thoughts that I'd failed to hear his approach. I had failed to even notice him until he was standing directly in front of me, a terry clothe towel swathed about his hips, dripping water over the carpet where he stood gazing at me, an expression of uncertainty flickering across his visage. I allowed my eyes to travel up the length of his form.

He wasn't as slender, svelte as he'd been in his youth or even a few years ago, I noticed, recalling the older movies I'd seen him in. He had a bit of middle age spread about his waist now. But, I thought, as I continued my eyes' silent journey, it only added to his attractiveness. I began to understand what women really saw in Alan Rickman. He seemed more human than other big movie stars. More...approachable? Is that the word I am looking for? Ah, well, it doesn't matter.

"You know, sitting around like a lump doesn't really become you." he said, and I knew he was trying a different tact, my eyes widened as he nearly dropped the towel and I felt the tale-tell signs of a blush prickling along the back of my neck and upwards towards my ears. God, the man had no shame... He was standing right in front of me. Inches away.

From where I sat upon the sofa... if he let go of that towel, I would be face to...err... I cursed myself for turning yet another shade of red. "I'm going to stand here, just like this, until you say or do something, Beth." he said, in a mildly threatening tone. He must have sensed my disbelief for he added, with a cocked brow, "We'll just see who can outwait whom. I can be a very patient man, Beth..."

"You're horrible!" I cried, before I could call back the words and erupted into a fit of giggles. God, why did it feel so good to laugh and yet...yet, as if I shouldn't be doing so, "You know that wasn't fair!"

"Yes, but it worked," Alan said in a triumph and began to back away, turn and head towards the hallway, "I think I'll finish up... It's really not my idea of fun to stand around soaking wet in nothing but a towel..."

Without pausing to consider my actions, I leapt up and raced passed him, grabbing the edge of his towel as I went. His squeak of surprise was priceless as he realized what had just happened. I stood against the wall in the hallway, and laughed harder as he called after me; "I hope you know that you're going to pay for that little stunt!"

"Maybe," I said, when he was in front of me once more, "But, it was worth it...to see the expression on your face..." I attempted to slip past him, still clutching the towel, but was thwarted by his body in front of my own as he pressed me against the wall. My laughter died in my throat as I looked up and saw the strange mixture of irritation and arousal flashing momentarily within his hazel eyes. I was suddenly aware of how close we were.

The smile left my face as he placed both hands upon the wall behind me, easily locking me into place. It was a rather odd feeling. He was the one exposed and yet I was the one feeling vulnerable at that moment.

"A-Alan...?" I began, unsure of what, exactly, he was thinking. Before I could draw breath to repeat my half-spoken question he bent forward and claimed my mouth beneath his own.

I was more shocked than anything. Last night it had all been my coaxing and pleading that had resulted in the wonderful experience we had shared. An experience that I had not dared to hope would be repeated. I felt my body responding to his as he began to grind himself against me while thrusting his tongue within my mouth, demandingly.

I brought one hand upwards, the hand not holding the towel, intending to draw my fingers through his hair, but was headed off by his own hands grasping my arms and holding them tight against my sides. After a moment my fingers slackened and the towel threatened to fall the floor. Who cared about that anymore anyhow? I vaguely thought. Just as suddenly, he lifted his lips from mine and snatched the towel away.

I was left shaken and in such a state as to render rational thought a thing of the past. "I told you you would pay for that," he said, whisking the towel back about his waist as he walked past me and into his own room, closing the door on my sudden, frustrated shouts of rage.

Who knew the man could be so devious...? Perhaps there were several things about him that the public did not know...