The cabin was bigger than I was expecting. Expecting it would be actually small was probably silly, but the script said small, so I thought small. Turns out movie small is real life big. A spacious central room attached to a kitchen made up the downstairs, while the upstairs was a balcony that ran all around the main room with two bedrooms and a bathroom. At the time, I lived in a studio apartment in the part of Hollywood that still looked like Assault on Precinct 13, the cabin might as well have been a palace. It was almost enough to distract me from who I had just spent four hours in a car with to get here.

"We're shootin' here?" she said dubiously, pulling her sunglasses down to appraise it with her ocean blue eyes.

"It's nice."

"Yeah. Way too nice," she huffed, moving past me. I did my best not to stare at her heart-shaped ass, rocking to and fro in skintight jeans. Not ogling the talent was one of the main duties of a Production Assistant.

Her name on the call sheet was Anna Call, but I knew her by another name. Another name I didn't dare repeat for what it said about me, though it damn near slipped out of my mouth when she answered the door. "They said you can stay here. I think they actually want you to get a feel for the place. I'm...uh..." I glanced at the map. "Well, I'll find it anyway. I'm on the walkie if you need anything."

She turned and gave me a look. It was easy to forget she was only twenty. But look at her rounded face, her freckles, her smooth skin, it was there. Right now, her glossy red hair was pulled into a high ponytail. Her impressive breasts were barely corralled in a peasant top, and then there was the jeans, some knee-high boots, and a brown leather jacket. "Like what? What do you do?"

"Whatever you need." I went to the fridge and checked it, then the pantry. "You've got food, but if you have a special request or anything like that, I can drive out to town for you."

"You're a gofer."

"Yeah, basically."

"When's production getting here? I'm supposed to have an assistant."

"Day after tomorrow. I guess Sterling is wrapping another film." I named the "star," though that was being generous. Kurt Sterling hadn't been a star in fifteen years, reduced to doing the kind of movie that had a script like the one I had rolled my eyes through.

She sighed. "Thank you." When she said it, I heard the traces of a Kentucky accent she was desperately trying to suppress.

"No problem. Call if you need anything." I turned to go.

"You have a name?"

"It's Ash."

"Ash?"

"Short for Ashley."

She giggled. "Ain't that a little girly?"

"Everyone in gym sure thought so," I said, and the memories made it come out harsher than I'd intended. "If you don't need anything, I'll see where they have me."

"No," she said, quietly. "Thank you again."

I left, mentally kicking myself. Anna Call, or whatever she called herself, was the most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen. And I'd managed to make it awkward. At least it was only two days. This wouldn't linger. When the rest of production made it up here, she'd forget all about me.

I went up the dirt driveway and around a corner. After some hunting around, I found my cabin. If this was where I was spending the shoot, I was cooked. This thing was a shack and not a particularly nice one. One room, a cot, and I'm pretty sure no insulation in the walls. The one bathroom was a walk to a central area in between a collection of these torture rooms. I looked up at a leaden sky and shivered at the bite in the air. At least the weather said the storm would pass us by. It'd get cold, but not bone-chilling.

I didn't find that terribly comforting when I was freezing my ass off overnight in the shack. I didn't even get undressed, just wrapped myself in the one blanket the place had. I don't think I had more than thirty minutes of sleep. When I opened the door the next morning it was into two feet of snow. I stared at it in disbelief, then in mounting irritation as I realized I was going to have to make it to Anna Call's cabin somehow. I was a city boy, born and raised in Los Angeles, so getting through snow wasn't exactly my strong suit.

What had taken me five minutes the previous day took me two hours that crystalline morning. I figured there was an easier way but I had no idea what they might be. By the time I was knocking on Anna's front door, I was shivering helplessly and soaking wet from the knees down.

Anna opened the door, her eyes widening. "Ash! Are you okay?"

"Freezing," I managed.

"Come in, come in," she said, standing aside. She was wrapped in a furry robe. Cozy, unlike me. "What happened?"

"Snowed last night. Had to walk here. See if you wanted anything."

"You poor thing! Get your wet things off, I was just gonna start a fire."

Obediently, I took off my shoes and socks. They weren't built for the snow and had entirely soaked through. My pantlegs were just as bad, but I didn't figure she wanted me to strip down. I settled down on the chair closest to the fireplace while Anna knelt before it. I was impressed at the way she quickly got the thing going, then sat back with a proud sigh. She looked over at me and her expression changed. "All your wet things. I don't need you catchin' cold." The more she talked, the more her accent came out.

I raised my eyebrows in a You sure? and she nodded, so I stood up, undid my jeans and stripped them off. She smiled when she saw my crocodile boxer shorts. "Cute."

"I wasn't expecting to show them off." I picked up a blanket and wrapped it around myself while she set my things to be dried by the fire.

"I didn't think it was supposed to snow," she said, looking outside.

"The storm was supposed to pass us by," I said. "Guess not."

"What'd you come over to ask?"

"If there was anything you needed, but I don't think I can make it down to the market, even if you did want something. Can I make you something to eat?"

"You cook? Sure. Hold on, there's another one of these robes. Let me get it." She fetched a warm robe from the closet and when I had it belted I felt truly warm for the first time. My feet were still cold, especially against the hardwood, but after the walk over, I'd take it. With my body heat at a respectable level, I went into the kitchen and got to work. I was already looking forward to telling Natalie about this. She'd find it hilarious.

Anna followed me in and watched as I used what was in the fridge to make us omelets and potatoes. We ate in front of the fire. "They'd kill me if they saw I was eatin' this."

"Why?"

"Gotta stay thin for the cameras."

I snorted. "Fuck 'em."

"Easy for you to say. Your career ain't based on how well your tits stay up."

"Suppose not."

"It's good though. Where'd you learn to cook like this?"

"Taught myself mostly. It's a hobby."

"Good hobby," she said. "Maybe I'll get them to make you my assistant." She looked at me keenly. "What do you do really?"

"Production Assistant."

"I know I've only been out here for a little bit, but I know that nobody wants to be a PA. That's foot in the door. What do you want to do?"

"Writer."

"No kiddin'! You write this thing?"

"God no."

She giggled. "Yeah, it ain't too good. Beggars can't be choosers."

"You can elevate this thing," I said. "You just have to nail that scene in the third act."

"The Scooby-Doo part?"

Now I had to chuckle. "Yeah. I mean, it sucks but if you do it well, nobody's gonna care. It's the only thing memorable in the movie. Or it will be, if you can make it that way."

She stared at me speculatively. "You mind if I run lines with you? I mean, we got nothin' else to do."

"Yeah, of course. Anything you need, remember?"

"Great!" She scampered off and that was when she really looked her age. It was easy to forget, what with her being the star of this thing, and probably playing a character who was supposed to be at least a decade older, but she was younger than I was. Just a couple years, but still.

We settled in, losing the bulk of the day, running her scenes over and over again. Her role, Kate Lockhart, wasn't well-written, but it had a bit more meat than something you would expect for a movie like this. Anna dove into it. We zeroed in on a voice for her too. She initially tried to lose her accent, but I convinced her just to soften it a little bit and concentrate on deepening her voice to portray the age of the character, who was supposed to be at least a decade older than Anna was.

"I need a break," she said, sticking out her tongue.

"Yeah, let me get you something to drink."

I came back with water, and she pointed to the pack I'd carried in. "What's in there?"

"Laptop. Thought I could get some writing done if you didn't need me."

"Oh yeah? Got a screenplay in here?"

"I have something I'm working on."

"Well, let's see it."

"I don't know."

"C'mon, you got a real professional actress here," she said with a playful swagger.

"Yeah, okay. It's still a work in progress." I opened the computer and pulled up the screenplay that was heavy on the work and light on the progress and handed it over. This was supposed to be my foot in the door, the thing I'd show the first person who'd ask. At least, I would if I could finish the damn thing. There was always another draft to be done, always an improvement to be made.

Anna slipped down into the chair and took sipped from the glass. "Water? Uh uh. I saw a handle of Kentucky bourbon in the cupboard. You're good in the kitchen, mix us up a cocktail."

I shrugged, found the bottle and did what I could with what we had. Then I brought it back with my heart in my throat. Watching someone read your writing is awkward, and it didn't help that it was her. I wanted to pace around but I was also freezing, so I just cuddled up in my robe and pointed my bare feet at the blaze in the fireplace.

Outside, I saw the snow beginning to fall, but I was so comfortable, I didn't get up. We had descended into a hypnotic state. Finally, she looked up. "This is really good, Ash."

"Thanks."

"No, I'm serious. This is really good. You got an agent?"

"Nope. Turned down a few times."

"Let me get this to mine. Maybe he knows who to send it to."

"You don't have to."

"I want to. Least I can do for my snow buddy."

I chuckled. "Thanks."

"Snowin' again."

"Yeah. Not looking forward to walking back."

"You're not walkin' back. This place is big enough for the both of us. So long as you're a gentleman."

"Yes ma'am. You hungry? Let me make us some dinner."

We ate in front of the fire. I thought that being away from the fire was what made me cold, but it wasn't the fire keeping me warm.

She grinned to herself, a twinkle in her eye. She was having a debate with in her mind, trying to decide if she was going to say what she was turning over and over. "You recognized me, didn't you?" she asked.

I felt my face getting hot and I had a good look at the pasta on my plate. "Yeah, I did. I almost called you Miss Michelle."

She laughed. "Yeah, I thought so. Saw it in your face when you picked me up."

"Where did the name come from?"

"Deanna Michelle. Dumb name, right? I picked it because it was the names of the two girls who used to bully me in school."

"Bully you?"

"Yeah, glasses, red hair, I was kinda nerdy on top of it."

"Okay, those are all good qualities?"

"Not where I went to school. I was also a late bloomer. I didn't start lookin' like this until the summer after high school. That's when I got approached for, y'know, modelin'. I thought the guy might be a creep, so I got my dad to go with me to the first shoot. Can you believe that?"

"Which one is the first one?"

"Oh, that wasn't in any of the big magazines. I didn't start with those till last year. Which is what I'm guessin' you've seen."

I nodded. "Yeah, a couple."

"Anna Call's my real name," she confided. "It's silly. I mean, I know if I make it, the pictorials're gonna come out. I'm okay with that. I know I got nothin' to be ashamed of. Just wish I didn't have that name, you know? Get reminded of the girls who made my life hell."

"Yeah, that's hard."

"What were you thinkin' when you saw me?"

"I was thinking that my girlfriend wouldn't believe it."

She faltered a bit, but recovered. "Girlfriend? You got a girlfriend? Tell me about her."

"Her name's Natalie. I think she might be a bigger fan of yours than I am."

"Really?" she leaned forward.

"Oh yeah. She says you're like an old school pinup, a real artist. She's also bi, so I think some of that is her rationalizing how hot she thinks you are."

"Where's Natalie now?"

"She's still in college. She's a couple years younger than me."

"She want to be a writer too?"

"Visual artist."

"Got a picture?"

"Yeah, right there in the laptop case." This was back when we still had real pictures, when they weren't just in phones.

Anna fished around and pulled out the snap of Natalie. It had been at the end of a long day at the beach, so Nat had her sweatshirt on over her bikini, sitting on a rock and tucking her long hair behind her ear, her long, slender legs carelessly crossed. "She's pretty."

"I think so."

"You take this?"

"Yeah."

"She loves you."

"I don't...she never said the words."

"You can see it in her eyes." Anna stared at it, lost in the picture for a moment, then she held it out for me. I nodded to the laptop case and she blushed and slipped it back in. "Wish somebody looked at me like that."

"I figured everybody looked at you like that."

"There's a difference. I wish I could..." she trailed off, her eyes meeting mine. I felt my face growing hotter than the fire. I had to look away. She was quiet for a few moments, and when we went back to running lines, there was a strange, livewire energy to her readings.

"Anna. This. This is really good."

"What is?"

"What you're doing with the words. You put this energy in on the day? Yeah, you'll get the notices you want."

Color crept into her cheeks. She had luminous skin, and in that moment, her freckles made her look so young. We went back to work, and though she didn't get that energy every time, she was circling it, growing closer and closer.

By the time night fell, the snow was up over the ground floor windows. "That's...that's gonna make it hard to get back to my place."

"Stay here," she said, sitting up straight. Her eyes flicked away, then back to me. I could have fallen into the blue.

"I can't do that."

"You can't get through that!" She gestured to the window. "Besides, this place is big enough. There's a whole other room."

She was right. Going back was foolish at best. "Actually, if you don't mind, I wouldn't mind sleeping down here in front of the fire."

"Perfect." She smiled at her drink. "That'd be perfect."

It was getting late, and the heat of the fire and the cold of the room was weighing me down. I went up to the next floor and Anna directed me to the right bedroom. I came down with a pillow and blankets.

"Goodnight," she said, heading upstairs.

"Goodnight. Thanks for being cool about this."

She smiled at me. "First time I've ever been snowed in anywhere."

"Me too."

She shivered. "I'm gonna climb in bed and try to remember what it's like to be warm."

She disappeared into her room and shut the door. My pants, shoes, and socks had dried, but I didn't bother with them. Still in the robe, I cocooned myself in blankets and turned my back to the fire. It was already dying, leaping flames diminishing to coal-bright embers. It would be coal and dust by morning, and I'd enjoy what heat it had before tomorrow's deep freeze. Sleep took me with big dark wings, and I knew nothing else for a time.

Then, awareness. The sense I wasn't alone. A silhouette in front of the dying fire. Natalie? No, too curvy, an hourglass out of time. A voice, soft accent. "Ash? It's too cold upstairs. Can I bunk with you?"

I muttered agreement. I would have agreed to anything. Sleep still clung to me with hungry tendrils. I couldn't surface all the way, and it was impossible to say no.

I heard rustling, and then, I felt the shape--Anna, my addled brain reminded me, it was Anna--pushing her way under the covers. She pressed her back into me, and I was on my side, and just like that, we were under the blankets together, spooning. Her head was pillowed on my left arm, and my right naturally wrapped around her middle, facing the fading fire.

The final cobwebs of dreams still clung to me when my fingers brushed over her belly, finding a place where I could relax. I was expecting the cloth of a nightshirt.

I felt bare flesh.

Smooth, taut skin. Cold, but warming up. I froze, wakefulness hitting me like a blast of freezing air. Maybe her shirt got pushed up when she squeezed in. Maybe she slept in a crop top or a sports bra or something. Or maybe it was like it felt. Maybe she was nude.

I'd seen her nude many times. Now I was feeling skin that until this moment had been a fantasy. Her body fit into the contours of mine. Her ass was pressed into my crotch. No other place for it to go. If she was nude, all that was between her sex and mine was the thin layer of cloth of my boxers. I felt myself stirring, my cock beginning to wake up with the rest of me. I mentally cursed. If this was innocent, if she was freezing and was in fact dressed despite how she felt under my fingers, she was going to feel a boner poking her ass and that would be it. I'd traumatize this nice woman who had been nothing but kind to me.

An idea occurred to me. I had a way out. Just had to take it. It took willpower, granted, because I would be rejecting a fantasy jointly held by Nat and I. I heard Nat cursing me out for not making a move. She would have, but that was Natalie. With us, she had made the first move, and that had been by planting a kiss on me.

I groaned, as though half-asleep, and made to turn over. Back-to-back she couldn't feel my arousal. I could have the biggest erection of my life and she'd never know. It would die and we could both sleep.

"Where are you going?" she murmured, catching my wrist and drawing me back around her, fitting us into the former position like puzzle pieces sliding into place. Her words were sharp; she was still wide awake.

"Give you some space," I said, hoping my voice sounded thick with sleep.

"I told you, I'm cold. I was hopin' you'd warm me up."

In the flickering light of the room, I could only see the back of her head, her long red hair. I felt her put my hand to her belly again, this time purposefully. I spread my fingers and touched no cloth. She sighed, and this time pressed her ass back into me. I couldn't hide what was happening. I braced for a betrayed shriek.

She only sighed again. The twin globes of her ass were hot against my crotch. My cock swelled, pinned between her crack and my body. She had to feel that. Her hand squeezed mine and released it. I tried to treat this as a scientific question, to divorce myself from the sensory overload of the warmth of her body, the softness of her skin, the sweet smell of her form. My chest against her back, my growing hardness against her ass. I moved my hand from her belly, finding the dip of her waist. I felt no cloth against her.

I was still for what felt like hours. My cock was now painfully hard between us, caught under the elastic of my boxers, pinned and pinioned. I knew that moving my hand too soon would tell her what I was doing. I had to pretend that I was asleep and my movement was accidental.

She snuggled into me, her ass swaying back and forth. In my mind, I saw her walking to my car from her apartment, wrapped in those skintight jeans. The underside of me slid between her cheeks. I stayed as still as death. Moving now, though my entire will demanded I start to rock against her, would betray me.

Then, when I could resist no longer, I moved my hand up the slope of her waist to her hip. Every inch I moved, I expected to touch the elastic of her panties. Any second, my fingers creeping over the rise of her hips, I would find it. They weren't pulled up all the way, they'd come down with her restless movement, they were a small pair, they had been rolled down. At the top of her thigh I had to come to the inevitable conclusion. And I couldn't stop myself from verifying. I cast around for something, anything. She wasn't wearing any underwear.

I felt my heartbeat through my manhood, pulsing between her cheeks.

Her right hand came over mine, fingers between, gripping me. "I read that the quickest way to warm up is to get naked and climb in a sleeping bag with somebody. Share body heat."

"Oh."

"Do you like what you feel?" She took my hand, looping it around her abdomen and letting me go. Maybe it was my imagination, but I swear I could feel heat billowing up from her sex. She moved back against me, swaying like a runway walk. "Sure feels like it."

"Sorry, it's not intentional."

She moved her hips in a circle, and I felt her flexing her buttocks. Now I was sliding along the crease of her. "I read that it doesn't work unless both people are naked."

"Anna..."

She reached back, and I felt her tugging at my underwear. My cock popped free. I kicked out of them, besotted by her. With some struggle, the robe and my shirt came off, and then I was nude against her. My chest against her smooth back, my sex against her ass, my face pressed into her fragrant mane. I inhaled her scent, sweet and strawberry, and beneath an insistent musk.

"That's better," she murmured.

I brushed her hair over her shoulder, and leaned up so I could see her face. She smiled, watching the fire. I leaned down, my mouth finding her neck. She leaned over sighing as my lips played over the soft skin. I was awake now. No way to deny that.

My hands came up along her belly to her full breasts. Like heavy teardrops, they were perfect. My palm ran over the gentle swell, then to her nipples, hardening under my caress. She reached back, her right arm hooking around my neck. She was moving more against me, sliding my length along her ass. She turned her head, her eyes glassy, her lips searching. I obliged, my kisses sliding up her jawline to her mouth. Our kiss was a blaze. I imagined the fire bursting into life once again as her eager tongue explored my mouth.

I began to rock, unable to control myself, and she matched my rhythm, guiding me up and down the taut valley of her body. I felt the pressure building up in my belly, a delicious ache like an ember ready to pop in the fire. I knew then that I had to stop. As much as the thought of spilling myself over her back might have appealed in the moment, I wanted so much more. I wanted to take all of her, and I knew she would only allow that if I proved myself.

I moved then, up and away. With me no longer backstopping her, she fell onto her back, momentarily breaking our kiss. She looked up at me, confusion in her Disney blue-gray eyes. I was poised over her like flame over fuel. She reached between us, her hands finding my hardness, already slick with my juices.

"Oh my," she said, running her palms along the silky length. "You're gifted, ain't you?"

My left hand closed in her hair, gently pulling her head back and kissing her once. "It's all yours tonight."

She let out a groan and went to stroke me further, but I had other ideas. My kisses fell from her jaw, to her throat. I found her pulse quickening, and I teased it with my teeth. I grabbed the blankets and thew them over our heads, so we were enclosed in a hot space, redolent with desire. The light came from the flickering fire, showing me billowing shadows of curves. Maybe it was my imagination but it had begun to blaze brightly.

My mouth fell from her throat to her clavicles. I found her breasts and I had to pause my descent. Sheer religious awe took over as I explored her perfection. She hissed as I sucked one nipple into my mouth, gently running my teeth over its pebble-like surface, lashing the tip with my tongue. I knew I could spend hours doing nothing but suckling at her perfect breasts, but I wouldn't allow myself to grow so sidetracked. I lingered, yes, but I didn't overstay my welcome.

My mouth then dropped to her abdomen, nibbling at the contours of her belly. Here, the scent of her sex was reached for my questing mouth with a musky desire that longed to enfold me. It was hypnotic and twined through my overheated need for her, drawing me inexorably to her center. I kissed over and around her belly, to the swell of her hips. I momentarily thought of turning her over, but no, not yet.

Finally, I allowed myself between her spread legs. Her sex was bare, a single mole above the waxed lips. She was modest, even now, flared and shiny with arousal, she kept much of her secrets inside. Her scent, like smoke, reaching inside of me, demanding that I quench her fire.

I dipped my head and her hips rocked forward to meet me, but I only brushed my lips over the soft flesh right above the lovely cleft. I explored everywhere except her sex. My tongue ran along her inner thighs, sampling the ambrosial delights that dripped from her. I nibbled her sensitive skin, my explorations circling, ever closer to her center. I teased and tormented her as she writhed futilely, her groans popping with need. Then I felt her fingers in my hair pushing gently but insistently to the place where the fire burned hot enough to kill.

I could not resist. I wanted this as much as she, more even. I ran my tongue over her soaking lips, parting her and exploring her innerfolds. I fucked my tongue into her, where her taste grew strong. I made certain to find every last part, so that if this were the one and only time she allowed this act, I would leave with no question unanswered. I learned every sound she made with pressure, with place, with lips and teeth and tongue. I stoked her along, encouraging her blaze. She was bright and shining, her body heaving like dancing flame.

Only when her flames threatened to engulf me did I find her sweet button, capturing it in my lips, tormenting it with my tongue. I sucked hard, my tongue playing over her. Her ragged cries were impossibly loud in our cocoon of lust.

She purred my name as I continued my assault, her fingers tangled in my hair. She was shivering now. Her legs were hooked over my shoulder, and I felt the tremor growing in them. The moment was almost over, and I would take the last of my lessons, from taste to topography of her sex. I would become the expert on everything Anna Call. Imprisoned in the heavy scent of her bliss I could do nothing else. I found myself fascinated by the tiny mole that grew just above and to the side of her sex, kissing it once, passing my tongue over it more than once as though it could tell me something.

Her chest was roiling now, her hips rocking against me, her hands pressing me between her legs. I knew then that it was time. My assault, my inferno, came to its climax as I concentrated on her button. She let out a single broken sob, her entire body growing rigid. She was like a burned log, and then she broke, and relaxed.

I felt her pulling on my shoulders, and I crawled up her, landing next to her on my side. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and her eyes were glassy. Her breath was in deep, shuddering heaves. "Oh fuck," she murmured, pulling me to her. I felt her tongue over my lips, running to every part of my mouth. We parted, and she said the most wonderful thing with a blissful sigh. "I love the taste of pussy."

"Oh yeah?"

"Best part of playin' with myself is suckin' my fingers after."

"Wouldn't mind seeing that."

"I bet." She concentrated on breathing, but then fixed me with those eyes, and I saw a fire burning in their depths. Maybe it was reflected from the fire, or maybe it was my imagination, but I saw it, clear as the snow outside. "Come on, now, I'm still ridin' tingles."

"I don't have a condom," I told her, reality crashing in.

"I don't care." She kissed me again, then rolled onto her side. "I want you inside me."

I moved up behind her. She opened her legs, and her hands guided me to her. I felt my head come to a rest at the wet gateway to her. I leaned over, my lips tickling her ears.

"Tell me."

"I want you inside me."

"Ask me."

"Please, baby. I want you inside me."

"Beg me."

"I need that big cock in my pussy now. Please."

I slid into her easily, like we were made for each other. She felt like slick velvet. The fire burned inside her too. I reached around her, my hand going to where our bodies joined, her lips swallowing my manhood. I had to feel it it, as though if I didn't, it wouldn't be real. She sighed with every inch that went into her.

"Like that?" My breath brushed over her ear.

"Yes. Oh god, yes. Now fuck me."

She continued to murmur, to beg for more sensation. I guided her onto her belly and hitched her hips up. Now she was open to me. I gripped her, riding hard, each of my strokes hitting the back wall of her. She grunted with them her fists balled up on the couch cushion, her head down. She rocked back against me, matching my own strokes, her hips making her sex spiral up and down my length. Now it was my fire burning out of control, and I knew it would consume me soon.

I thought of everything I could except the act in which I was participating. Anything to stave off the conflagration within. What had been an ember was now a blaze, and it longed to spill from the fireplace, engulf the room in the heat I felt between us. I tried to stave it off with every stray thought, but everything returned to the fact that I was fucking a woman, who until 24 hours ago, had been a fantasy.

"I'm close," I muttered, the blaze reaching hungry fingers from inside me.

And then, she was away. I blinked in surprise. She had pulled forward and was in the process of flipping around onto her back. I watched in besotted wonder as she sat up, guiding my cock into her ravenous mouth. Her eyes met mine and she opened, placing me on her soft lips. Her tongue caressed me once, leaving a line of fire. Then, a ghost of a nod, and I heard her words in my mind.

"Fuck me."

I thrust, and her eyes watered but she never broke eye contact, sucking me to the hilt. I felt her throat opening, the petal-like flesh caressing the tip of me. Then I retreated, leaving a shaft glistening with her spit. I wish I could have lasted longer, but with this fantasy, I was already on the precipice. I took her with a few more thrusts, each time her eager mouth accepted all I had, her tongue swirling over me, her throat taking me.

The fire blazed brightly, and it escaped. She swallowed me, her lips closing over the base of my manhood. My cock bucked once, the bliss bright behind my eyes, the fire consuming me. She moved her head back, and at the second buck was over her tongue. Then my head was at her lips, and she gripped me hard, milking the last threads of my fire. She kept me there, never breaking eye contact, gently laving my head with her lips and tongue.

Then she released me and I collapsed, rolling onto my back. She cuddled in, her body forming to my side, her head pillowed on my chest, sex wet against my thigh. She ran her tongue over her lips.

"Savin' up, were we?"

I had to chuckle. "Sorry about that."

"I don't mind." Her hand played over my chest.

"Are you warm now?"

She giggled. "For now."

The warmth of the cocoon, marinated in our passion, lulled us to sleep.

I awoke thinking the previous night had been a delicious dream, but the weight of her head on my chest didn't fade with the lurking chill of the room. There she was, face innocent in sleep, red hair mussed, back rising and falling with even breath. I watched her sleep, mesmerized by her beauty. Movement, as it was when she first climbed into the blankets with me, would break the spell. Our night together would well and truly be over. I don't know how long I lay there, luxuriating in the sight, smell, and feel of her, but it felt like forever and not nearly long enough.

I shifted once, to pull a scrap of blanket over my bare shoulder where the teeth of the cold gnawed at me. She stirred, adorably yawning and stretching. She looked up at me and a smile spread over her lips.

"Hi there," she murmured.

I looked to the windows, blocked by snow. "Guess we're not being rescued today."

"You want to be rescued?"

"Not particularly."

Her smile widened. "Me neither."

She took a deep breath, then slipped from the covers. The fire wasn't even embers. She stretched, her nude body glistening in the muted light of the room, then went to the window. My eyes fell to the shadows pooling in the dimples on her lower back. She hugged herself and shivered. "Freezing."

"Then come back here," I said.

"Bad boy. I want to see if we have any hot water left. Gonna be runnin' low. Might as well enjoy what we got."

I watched her go, her nudity no longer sensuous but playful. Then she was upstairs and I heard the hiss of the shower. I leaned back and brought the blanket around my shoulders to try to hold on to the last few scraps of the night. Then I heard her shout, "Ash! You comin' or what?"

"Guess I'm coming," I muttered, fighting a grin. I ran upstairs, freezing, and in the bathroom, hot steam was billowing in thick cozy clouds. I moved the curtain aside, revealing Anna again, her hair slick, her body slicker. For a moment I could only stare dumbstrick at the way the water traced her bountiful curves.

She smiled. "Well, c'mon now. Get while the getting's good."

The spray was almost too hot, but the way it enfolded me, I was beneath the blankets again, and the moisture was her, laden with her scent, her taste, her moans. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her lips to mine, her tongue no longer curious but insistent. We held each other, and after a time she parted, her lips red. "Well, somebody's ready to go," she purred, and I felt her hand gently wrap around my length.

"Can you blame me?"

"It's flatterin'."

The water pooled in the places our bodies met, erasing the distinction between the two of us. I leaned in and kissed her, my mouth hungry for another taste, and she clung to me as though she were frightened I might be torn away. I felt her at my cock, her slick hand running lightly over my sensitive flesh. I broke the kiss, the fire once again kindling in me, and this time I could control none of it. It would consume what it consumed, and all I could do was watch. I looked into her eyes, so she could see the fire that danced there now. Her eyes widened and I saw the fire there too.

I turned her around. She leaned forward, hands against the wet tile, back arched. I ran a hand over the smooth globes of her buttocks, giving her a soft slap. My hands went up her side, over her ribs, gently cupping her full breasts. She moaned, moving back against me, hunting for connection. I gave her another smack, and she moaned again, her movements chastened. I couldn't fuck her yet. She was much too beautiful.

I dropped to my knees behind her, face inches from her sex. The sublime beauty I saw there staggered me. The rivulets of water, running down the center of her, dripping down her thighs, over her shapely legs, down to her delicate ankles. I stared at her here, a supplicant before the idol of a more powerful goddess than any had ever before me worshiped. I would show her my devotion and my prayer would be written in her moans.

My tongue caught the water, running clear, as I brought it to her quivering sex. I kissed her, the taste exploding over my consciousness. She widened her stance, her body begging for more. I could not refuse, sucking, licking, caressing. I was lost for any other way to express my appreciating her incomparable beauty. She had taken my voice and it would only return if I gave her pleasure.

Possessed, I found myself retreating, my hand replacing my mouth, teasing her apart. My tongue ran up behind, no longer in my control. I felt the rubbery circle of her rosebud and paused. This was an act I had never before considered, but now couldn't resist. It was the most natural thing in the world a way to truly honor her. I ran my tongue around her and her grunts turned to cries. She found a new pitch when I forced my tongue through her gates, fucking her at the pace of her heartbeat.

"Finish me, finish me," she was murmuring, slumped against the tile wall, her ass still struck out decadently. I could only obey.

Now I stood, spreading her open, and this time, when she hunted for me, she found me ready. She brought me inside her warmth, and I matched her rhythm. We fucked to the beating of our hearts, me inside of her. But this wasn't enough. I saw it in her rosebud winking at me with every thrust, begging for more attention. I ran a thumb around its surface, and then, with a pop, forced myself inside.

"Oh ffffffuck," she swore, and she was bucking uncontrollably on me. Her sweet body engulfed in tremors, I continued my inexorable stroke, my own fire building inside me.

Then she was still, her back heaving with pleasure. Unsteadily, she disengaged and turned, holding onto me. "Did you cum?"

I shook my head. "No, not yet."

"Where do you want to?"

"Where?" I couldn't quite believe what she said.

She gave me a demure smile, biting her lip. "Anywhere you want."

The response was out of my mouth before I could stop it. "I want to cum inside you."

She nodded eagerly. "It's okay. I'm on the pill. I want you to."

I touched her hair. The water had given it a crimson hue. "You're amazing."

She kissed me, then she shut off the water. "We're gonna want to save that."

We toweled off, jittery and excited for our next time together. Soon I was back inside her, riding hard in front of a freshly-built fire. I could see our reflection in the doors of the fireplace, her face locked in adorable concentration as she moved against me, dyed orange by the flames. I could tell she wasn't worried about herself; she was giving me a gift. As I pushed my hand into her red hair, I caught a triumphant grin, wicked and sweet, and that turned blaze into inferno. She knew in that moment that I belonged to her. That she had given me everything. The bolt of pleasure hit like a lightning strike splitting an ancient tree. The resulting fire blazed over me as I shuddered, helplessly emptying myself into her. It felt like it went on forever, my body somehow finding corners of bliss to burn into consuming pleasure.

Finally, I collapsed against her back, entirely hollowed out. She pulled me under the covers and cuddled me close, running her hand over my hair while I listened to her heartbeat, pillowed on her soft breasts.

This was our existence. We ran lines, I cooked meals. And we fucked. The idea that it was for warmth became a joke between the two of us. Soon, we didn't bother getting dressed beyond our robes. There was no reason to.

Every day I woke up with dread that this would be the day the roads cleared. As soon as that happened, our little holiday would be over, and we would be thrust back into the real world. The fire would have retreated, leaving behind a desolate place with the reaching black branches of a burned-out forest. A place where a lowly production assistant didn't fuck the leading lady, even on a crappy show like this one. As long as the snow was high, that was another day of shattering pleasure with this gorgeous creature.

Inevitably, about a week after the snows first trapped us, the white dipped below the bottom-floor windows. I awoke to find her already up, staring at the line of snow running through the middle of the pane. She must have heard me stirring, because she turned. Her eyes were sad. "I think we're due to be rescued."

"Yeah," I said. I didn't know what else to say to her.

"You get to go back to Natalie." She hadn't mentioned Natalie since that first day, but the way she said the name, I could tell she'd been thinking about her.

"I never left her."

"So what was this then?"

"I don't know. I wasn't putting a label on it. You have to have someone."

"I don't," she said.

"You could have anyone you wanted. The director. The producer."

"Is that what you think of me?"

"What?"

"So that's it. You think because I took some naked pictures, that's all I am?"

"No, that's not--"

"I auditioned for this crappy movie! I won that part fair and square!"

I heard what I said and I hated myself for it. I just had started to think of our little haven, the cocoon that had once just been blankets in front of the fireplace but had expanded and was now the snowbound cabin. That had become my world, and I desperately didn't want it to end. I wanted to live in this little space between, where Anna and I were...it was more than lust and too young to be love. But the thought of being in a world where she existed and not being able to touch her was colder than the winter outside. A place where no fire ever burned.

"Anna..." I faltered.

"Save it. You think I'm a whore so you used me like one."

"Anna!"

She stormed upstairs and slammed the door. She didn't come out of her bedroom even when we were dug out six hours later.

The rest of the crew arrived that evening and Anna and I were swept apart by the melting snow. I stepped outside for the first time in a week. The landscape was dreary and plain, cold but not cold enough. I wandered over to craft services, just a trailer in the process of setting up, and had my first cup of coffee. The bitterness ended the fantasy of the previous week. I was in the real world once again.

I was able to call Natalie that evening.

"I was so worried about you!"

"I'm okay. You'll never guess who I was snowed in with."

"Who?"

I told her.

"What. No. Seriously?"

"Yep."

"Ugh, I'm so jealous."

"We had a fling."

"Now I'm really jealous."

"Don't be. It's over. Soon as the roads got cleared, it's like I don't exist anymore."

"I'm going to set aside how mad I am at you that you scored Deanna Michelle but fucked it up before you could share her, and I'm going to say that you have a tendency to mope, and when you do, you see things as hopeless when there's usually a fix."

"Thanks, Nat."

"Make this right, Ash. I'm not missing out on her because you fucked up."

I had to smile. "I'll see you in a week when this thing wraps."

Anna's big scene came at the end of the shoot, the scene that would make or break the movie. I watched quietly from the kitchen doorway, out of the shot, ostensibly waiting to see if anyone called for anything but actually unable to tear myself away from Anna's moment that we worked so hard on. Anna was across the room facing Kurt Sterling. Right next to the couch where we had been sleeping and fucking and falling in love.

Whether it would be a quiet embarrassment on a short imdb page or a springboard to bigger and better things all came down to Anna. She started that Scooby-Doo speech, where she revealed her character's evil plan, the kind of thing that only happens in fondly-remembered fiction.

And the words lay there like dead fish.

"Cut!" the director called. "Anna...I need something from you. Anything."

"Can you give me a moment?"

He watched her, then nodded. I hated him in that moment because I saw in him the same thing I saw in my own heart. He was in love with her, like me, like everyone, and nothing could be refused her. "Yeah, of course. Take five everybody!"

Anna sat on the couch and she touched the cushion. I watched memories play out on her face. Then she turned her head, her eyes meeting mine. She'd known where I was, precisely. I saw fear in the stormy ocean blue. I gave her a tiny nod, and I watched her eyes harden. She returned the nod, and in that gesture, I saw she was seeing the endless hours we'd spent on those words.

"Ray?" she said to the director. "I'm ready for another try."

"You got it. Okay, everybody! Back to one! Kurt, give Anna her lead-in line."

Kurt Sterling gave a line-reading that might as well have been talk-to-text. Then Anna launched into her monologue. She was walking a tightrope. It had to be precise, right along the line of camp, acknowledge it's there, but don't fall into it. Keep the emotions honest, but just on that bleeding line of unreality. Pitch the monologue to the script.

She was spellbinding. Every minute we had put into that work came out on camera. The words were branding irons she pressed into the film. No one who ever saw it would forget her. This is what she needed. This would make the movie a springboard. Anna Call would be remembered as the best part of a bad movie, someone who deserved better.

I was elated. And crushed. Because she was out of my reach now. I was still a mere PA. I wanted to be a writer, but that was still just a want. She would be a star.

"Cut!" the director called. "Perfect. Anna, you got one more in you? For safety."

"I can do as many as you need," she said, and her shoulders were straighter, her eyes shining.

They ran through it another time, then a few more for coverage. Her delivery woke Kurt up to, and when it came time to do his sides, he had ten times the energy. This movie was never going to be great, probably never even good, but it wouldn't be entirely forgotten. I comforted myself that, if I happened upon it, on cable or nestled in a forgotten streaming corner, I could immerse myself in that blissful week I spent being warm in the cold.

"That's a show wrap on Anna," Ray said at the end of the day, leading the crew in applause. She blushed adorably and curtsied. I clapped for her, but I couldn't stay. I couldn't be reminded of what I'd had and cost myself. I slipped out the back and sat on the porch, watching my breath fog. The snow had retreated, now nothing more than a few white crusts clinging to rocks and tree roots.

"Ash?"

Anna stepped out onto the porch, sitting down next to me. She smelled like strawberries, and the warmth of her body was a ghost of what I'd felt cocooned in our blankets.

"You were amazing," I said.

"Thanks to you."

"Don't do that. Never let anybody make you feel less than great."

"Thank you for your help then."

"I'll take that."

"Kind of wish it was still snowin'."

I chuckled. "I was just thinking that."

She leaned over and kissed my cheek, her hand briefly lingering on my leg. "I'll see you around, handsome."

"Never can tell."

I watched her go, wearing the same skintight jeans that hugged her curves on the day we met. I had seen, I had tasted, every inch of her under that denim, and yet it was like seeing her for the first time again. Then she was out of sight, and I felt more alone that I ever had.

The door opened. "Hey, Ash? Ray's calling for you."

"Coming," said, getting up and going inside.

"PA!" the director shouted at me. "I can't have you wandering off! We still got three more shots before we wrap for the day." He rattled off a list for me to fetch, and I reached into the pocket of my hoodie for my pad to take it all down. My finger hit something in my pocket that I swear wasn't there before.

It was the title page of this screenplay. Written in girlish cursive under the byline was, It gets cold at night in town too, a heart, and a phone number.

Ray had to shout the list at me again before I could hear anything over the thundering of my heart.