25
It is nearly 6:45 in the morning when Jack pulls the truck into the driveway of his cabin. The sky is bright, with the full moon descending in the west and the eastern horizon lightening with sunrise. Sam is sleeping beside him in the passenger seat. He yawns and stretches, reaches over and shakes her arm gently. "Wake up, Sam. We're here."
"Mmmm…" She opens her eyes and looks around, straightens up. "We're here."
"Hey, that's just what I said," he laughs.
He unlocks the door, and they bring in the bags, and the carton of food. It's chilly, but he's heard on the radio that daytime temperatures have been in the high 70s, and the weekend is expected to be clear and breezy. He plugs in the refrigerator, and says anything else can wait a few hours. He pulls a double size sleeping bag from a closet and throws it on the bed, and within fifteen minutes they have crawled in and are snuggling to keep each other warm.
A few hours later he wakes to her fingers stroking him, and her kisses wandering across his belly. She is naked, and he quickly sheds his briefs, and reaches for the tender parts of her body. Her breath hisses raggedly in his ears as he brings her along with his touch, and at the last moment, unable to contain himself, thrusts into her heat, and they shatter together into a long fall of glittering pleasure.
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The sun is well past noon when Jack comes awake again. He stretches luxuriously, then climbs out of bed and heads into the bathroom for a five-minute shower. Afterward he dresses and then goes to start setting things right in the cabin. There really isn't a lot to do now that the power lines have finally been run out this far. It's more convenient than the generator used to be, but it also takes away some of the sense of remoteness. He puts away the food—a trip into town for milk and other perishables is in order—sets the suitcases in the bedroom, and pushes open the sliding door to step out on the deck. It is warm, so he leaves the door open. He walks down the slope to the dock and smiles as he looks out over the small lake. After a bit he turns and walks around the house, just checking things out. Everything seems to be as he left it.
Sam is just coming out of the bedroom as he enters the cabin again. She's wearing a t-shirt and panties and her hair is tousled, and she looks delicious.
She comes over and puts her arms around his neck and kisses him deeply. He returns the kiss with interest, and they stand there for several minutes making like hormonal teenagers. "You are so beautiful," he whispers, taking her face in his hands.
"Hmm… sure, right out of bed. Where are your glasses, old man?" she teases.
"Ha ha ha," he tells her. "Just for that you can make your own coffee!"
"Where's the coffee maker?"
He digs the old aluminum percolator out of the cupboard, and she stares at it in disbelief. "What is that?"
"That's how real Minnesotans make coffee," he says with a smirk. He pulls down the sealed coffee tin from the shelf, and hands it to her. "Have at it."
"I have no idea how to use one of these things," she protests, shoving the pot and tin back at him. "You'll have to do it."
"Take back that glasses crack, or no can do."
"I take it back—I do," she says, laughing. "Now just make the coffee."
He leans over and kisses her again, long and thoroughly, then washes the pot and proceeds to set it up, as she watches him closely. Turning on the gas, he sets it on the burner. "You have to keep your eye on it," he cautions. So they watch for several minutes, and he turns down the heat at the first liquid bounce, and then the coffee perks along cheerfully.
"Time for breakfast," Jack says.
"What're we having?" she asks warily.
"Oatmeal. With maple syrup."
The oatmeal is ready in fifteen minutes, with maple syrup and raisins, and she has to admit that it really hits the spot. They sit on the edge of the deck and eat it, and drink their coffee, which turns out surprisingly good. When she's done she lies back on the warm wood and stretches her arms over her head.
"It is so quiet and peaceful here," she says, "almost like…" She stops and looks up at him.
"Yeah. Like the paradise planet," he says. "There's no Goa'uld junk here, though. Anything we do here, we do with full knowledge aforethought." His eyes are on hers as he says it. "Like this." He leans down, bracing on his elbow, and kisses her. "Aforethought..." he murmurs against her lips. "I think about you all the time..." His lips turn very soft and work their way over her mouth, molding to every curve, his tongue tasting the sensitive inner edges as her lips part to welcome him. He catches her lower lip lightly between his teeth and sucks on it gently, drawing back a little so he can just see her eyes, which are heavy-lidded and slightly unfocused.
She reaches up and cups his face with both hands, caresses his three-day beard with her thumbs, and groans helplessly as he deepens the kiss once more and trails his fingers down over her belly to pull down the top elastic of her panties...
After that they spend the rest of the day lazing around the cabin, doing nothing at all except being together. They take a couple of naps, and eventually make up the bed properly. Included in the food they brought along are sandwich makings, and cookies, and they eat when they get hungry.
At sunset, they walk down to the lake and sit on the dock, swinging their feet in the chilly water. This reminds them of the paradise planet, and they both glance up at the sky; but instead of the runaway star, there is the full moon, just rising huge above the eastern horizon.
Bedtime comes early, and they crawl into the freshly made bed, cuddle for a while—which inevitably leads to other activities—and are sound asleep by ten.
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"We need to make a trip to the store for milk and eggs and so forth," Jack tells her the next morning after breakfast. They are out of bed early, refreshed, and more energetic than the day before.
The town is only about eight miles away—five of which are on the dirt track that leads to the cabin. There's a gas station, a grocery store, and a few other small businesses. At the grocery store Jack is greeted cheerfully by the middle-aged couple who own the place. He introduces Sam to Stan and Rhonda Garry, and they welcome her to Sunset Crossing.
"That's the name of the town?" she asks.
"It's not really a town," Stan Garry tells her. "Not incorporated. It's been here a long time, though. A couple hundred of us live around here and call it home."
"A couple of hundred?" She has seen maybe four or five houses. "Sorry. It's just that there aren't many houses."
"Back in the woods, most of them, like Jack's place. You'd be surprised."
The store is extremely well-stocked for its size, there is even a butcher's counter in the back, and Jack spends several minutes picking out a nice piece of sirloin. "Gonna make you the best beef stew you've ever had," he tells Sam, as Rhonda is wrapping the meat. He picks up potatoes, carrots, onions, celery, a small yellow turnip, a couple of parsnips, garlic, and a bag of barley.
She stares at his collection with wide eyes. "How many people are you feeding?"
He just laughs. Piling his purchases on the counter, he adds a large can of diced tomatoes, milk, bread, cheese, cereal—there seems to be no end to the things he thinks they need! There are fresh tomatoes in a nearby rack. "Local?" he asks Rhonda.
She nods. "I expect they'll be the last ones this season."
Jack picks out four of the biggest ones. Sam is shaking her head. "Don't fret," he tells her. "The stew will feed us for a couple of days. But you'll be amazed how hungry you get up here."
"Fret? Fret?" she echoes, staring at him. He laughs at her again.
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