This is a work of adult fiction and should be read only by adults. It is also my work. Although I receive no compensation other than your comments, it is still my work. Please respect this and do not repost it somewhere else without talking to me first about it. If you are not allowed to read works with sexual content, either due to your age or by virtue of the laws in the geographical location in which you reside, please do not continue.
Enjoy, and if you're so inclined, please let me know what you think. —Alexis
She traced the lines in the mahogany and watched the Christmas tree lights reflect off the polished surface of the bow. “I want to go shoot.”
“You can't. There's two feet of snow, and you're not all that good. You won't be steady on your feet and you'll lose arrows.”
“I won't. Come with me. We'll take the snowshoes and a Thermos. I'll make it worth your while.”
“Honey, it's three degrees out. It's too cold to make it worth anything.” Her shoulders sagged, telling him that it's terribly unfair to give a Christmas gift that can't be enjoyed for another four months. He mentally calculated the cost of new arrows against the worth of her smile. No contest. “But, if you're set on going out, I'll go with you.”
There it is, that smile. Merry Christmas.
It wasn't three degrees, but it was cold. Cold enough to freeze the paper target to the tree. Cold enough to freeze their breath to a thin fog.
As she took her stance, legs spread, her arms shook from the cold and from the tension needed to pull against the recurve of the bow frame. Her eyes narrowed and focused on the orange dot at the center of the tree. Shoulders arching to steady her aim, her breasts accentuated by the fullness of the down fill in her jacket.
So, she's that good, is she?
He moved quietly behind her. She ignored him and steadied the nocked arrow, holding it tightly between her gloved fingers as she drew back the taut bowstring. He slipped his hand around under her arm, closing his fingers around the padded swell of her breast. He squeezed gently.
The arrow flew far to the left and buried itself somewhere in the snow.
It didn't matter.