The Blizzard of Depression

Chapter 3

Holly continues to move her fingers in her underwear as I watch her eyes begin to flutter close and her mouth open a bit. I lay there watching as she feels herself, feeling the dampness on my stomach. My face is burning with red as her breathing becomes shakier and turns sporadic. Deciding after a while that I should do something, I lower my hands until they rest on her thighs. I gently squeeze them which receive a whimper from Holly.

Soon enough, after caressing her thighs and waist a bit, I feel her legs start to tense a bit and her breathing becomes even shorter than before. I feel a buzzing throughout my body as I watch her body convulse a bit and hear her let out a deep moan as I feel more wetness from her underwear. She opens her eyes and settles a bit. And then, while looking at me, pulls her hand out and makes it clear for me to see the reflectiveness and translucent cum.

She gives me a smirk and lowers herself once more to my ear. In a silvery voice, she whispers, "fuck me, Nick."

Suddenly, I feel awkward, like a child caught stealing. Panic starts to replace my lust, and I don't know if Holly catches on or not. Nevertheless, she seems to see my apprehension as she backs off and gets off me. Instead, she crawls into bed beside me and lays on her side facing me.

"Are you ok?" she asks.

"Uh, yeah, sorry," I express.

She gives me a puzzled look. "Why are you sorry?"

I shrug. "For ruining the mood," I say.

She lets out a soft chuckle and offers me a kind smile, not saying anything for a while. I gaze at her eyes and notice just how blue they truly are. They seem to seep deep like an ocean with sparks of reflection. And it's only this close that I notice the details of her face. The way her Roman nose turns down with a distinct bump at the bridge. Her rosy complexion with a beauty mark along her jaw on her right side. Here, in this close view, no longer distracted by a craving for intimacy, can I really appreciate the magnificence of such a woman.

"Pfft, Nick, you're such an idiot," she giggles, "never be sorry for something like that."

I feel at ease when she says that. Do I actually find her attractive? In a romantic way, not a sexual way. That, I do not understand yet.

"Should we get dressed now?" I consider.

She gives a comically thinking face and then proposes, "sure, and then if you want, we can cuddle."

I like that idea. So we both get up and she leaves for her room to have a quick shower. I go into my washroom and lower my boxers and turn the handle on to warm. It's the North Pole, I don't care how horny I ever get, the cliche of cold showers after sex will never apply to the unforgiving white death.

I stare down as I let the water wash down my back. I look over the past hours from the wedding to encountering Abraham and almost getting intimate with Holly. Is this the fault of my drunken state? It can't be, I got quite sober when we got home, especially when she asked to kiss me.

My thoughts shift from the events to the probable romantic attraction. Yes, Abraham is quite good-looking, and I certainly await a call from him. But, Holly, well, she's Holly. She's obnoxious but moments like when she comforted me make her bearable. But the idea of me actually liking her and maybe even loving her feels a bit far-fetched.

What am I doing? I'm an inexperienced man who can't form any close connections because of a foolish mistake in the past. Even if I were to admit an attraction to Abraham or Holly or to anyone really, am I frankly worth that sort of affection? Am I deserving of someone caring and loving me? To be completely honest, I think not. My seclusion over the past eight years has so greatly harmed my social skills that the wedding has been one of few that have even gotten me to journey out of the North Pole.