The snowflake was thick like a piece of white cotton gauze ripped off. The ends were frayed like a dozen ripped strings. With its million friend on this dark cloudy day, it sailed diagonally towards the ground until a gust picked it up and carried it across the hot pool. The hot pool was bubbling. Foggy fingers were reaching out of it. The foggy fingers were playing in the air as if they wanted to tickle the ground hugging clouds. A cross current grabbed the snow flaked and pulled it down the driveway among the cabins.

Rachel was watching from the comfort of the lodge reception that was styled with exposed rough wood, deeply cushioned couches, and a crackling, orange-flicking fireplace. A muted TV screen was playing a golf tournament thousands of miles south to an audience of nobody. Despite the emptiness, magazines and newspapers had been arranged on the coffee table as if a reading circle had just put down the books to come back after a five minute break. A gold brimmed wall clock was slowly ticking away the hours.

A gray crossover car pulled into the parking lot. The shiny metal made it stand out among all the parked cars, which were covered under two inches of fluffy white. A tall and trim elderly man climbed out of the driver's door. A much shorter and rounder woman in soft-red snow pants and winter jacket with black boots followed him. Rachel's finger tips tabbed through the prepared check-in sheets that had been fanned out only for her to see. There was only one couple scheduled to arrive today. The automatic doors swiped open. A gust of cool air pulled into the room and tingled Rachel on the bare skin under her black pant ends.

"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell. I hope you found the drive alright despite the heavy winter weather."

Mr. Mitchell stomped his feet hard on the welcome mat. Mrs. Mitchell carefully swiped the bottoms and sides of her shoes. Mr. Mitchell led the way and held his driver license and credit card to Rachel. Rachel took both of them from his hand. Her arm was furry. Not only that, her neck had fluff as well. The black Indian hair was pulled together into a pony tail. However, on the sides of her face, she had fuzz as well. She was five feet tall. Her eyes were big and round. Her brown cheeks were round knobs. Her body was trim. Her boobs were fitting for her size. She was wearing slacks and a short sleeve dress shirt. The clothes fabric and the cut had the feel of a discount store. There was no nail polish on her finger nails. The only makeup was a red lip stick on her thin lips. Yet, her eye lashes were naturally dark as if colored with coals.

"The drive was fine. I've been living in Canada for seventy years now. The odd thing was that the freeway and town were empty like a ghost town."

"Yes, we are currently on our low season. This weekend, people will come from Calgary on their time off. We are actually completely booked this weekend. You will get the best of both worlds. Enjoy a quiet time at the pool today. Have the activity and bustle on the weekend. If you look out, there is the pool. It's a cozy 40 degrees Celsius. Behind it is a Sauna. We have a changing room downstairs. It'll probably be all yours today."

"Wonderful, we like it quiet. Our boys are out of the house. I can tell you that it is crazy growing up with two boys. They constantly are doing one mischief or another. Do you have any children of your own?"

"Oh, I'm only 25 years old. I've freshly moved here from India only three months ago. I have a sister in Montreal. If I can have your initials here and your signature there."

"Sam, you can't ask her those personal questions," chided Mrs. Mitchell.

"She also likes to be treated as a human being, not just some hotel sign in kiosk," corrected Mr. Mitchell.

"I take great pride in getting to know our customers," said Rachel in almost monotone customer service tone. Yet, her face looked flushed.

"A lot of Indians take Western names, when they come here. Is Rachel your real name?" continued Mr. Mitchell to make a point.

"My Indian name is Meena."

"I will call you that if it is alright with you?"

"Of course, Mr. Mitchell. Can I give you a bundle of kindle? There is a fireplace in your room with firewood. If you need additional firewood, there is a pile in the underground parking garage."

Mr. Mitchell tipped his winter head to thank for the information. He put the bundle of kindle under his arm. Mrs. Mitchell took control of the room key cards and compound map. They stepped out into the snow shuffle outside. The sky and tree tops were invisible in some kind of foggy gray. Snowflakes reflected the light of every street lamp, car beam, and lit window. They were like glow worms dancing through the air. The snow was whirled around as if it never wanted to settle anywhere.

Patrick, the lodge manager, stepped out of the office behind the reception desk. He walked with elegant straight legs toward Rachel. He was wearing a black dress shirt. The fabric was so fine that it had a shine to it. The cut was so smooth that it made him look bigger in presence. He put his glasses on to verify what Rachel had entered into the computer.

"Always remember to log out when you are done. It's really easy to get distracted and leave the computer open. A lot of fraud happens in the service industry. You wouldn't want someone using your credentials to commit fraud," lectured Patrick. He put down his glasses satisfied.

"Culturally, you have a lot to learn about Canadians. The Mitchells were clearly in a social mood. You should have made a little small talk with them. Ask a few friendly questions and share a little about yourself. Of course, don't do that with everyone. Some people are in a rush or very private. Always follow the lead of the guest," Patrick continued his lecture. "Show me your finger nails."

"I will work hard to be the best receptionist."

Rachel held out her finger nails. Patrick took them in his hand to guide them closer to his hand and move them around in the light. He was inspecting the trim of her finger nails. Her fingers were short to match the shortness of her person. The nails were round. The black hair was crawling down her forearms to the back of her hand.

"Your finger nails are perfectly trimmed now. You should get that hair of yours taken care off as well. There is a lot of fluff. Make some small talk with me as an exercise," Patrick's eyes were piercing. His lips were moving as he was evaluating her grooming standard.

"What is your professional dream?" asked Rachel.

"You might not want to go that specific on a first question. However, I'll play along. My absolute dream would be getting accepted to an internship at the Landmark Mandarin Oriental in Hong Kong. East Asia is immaculate in customer service. Getting trained to that standard would give me a great boost in my professional growth. Of course, I'd be happy to go to any top tier hotel. Tokyo and Singapore are outstanding choices as well. What is your professional dream?"

"To make you happy, Patrick."

"With all respect, Rachel, Canadians don't like hearing that kind of Indian attitude. It's considered kiss ass. You are only saying that to please me. It doesn't provide me a chance to get to know the real you."

"I'm really just very glad to be in Canada. I grew up in a small, rural village called Dumri in the Jarkhand province in East India. My sister was attacked with an acid balloon for going to college. I'm a really just very glad to have made it to a safe country where I can focus on studying."

"That's horrible. I'm very sorry to hear about what happened to your sister. I will take good care of you. You are part of our family at the Hidden Valley now. When you talk with customers, you might not want to be that real. Hearing about acid attacks and facial disfigurements can scare them."

"(Continued) maybe, pick something else. They don't really care about you. They care about the illusion of being appreciated and special. My real dream is to be at the top of a five star hotel in Toronto. However, I don't say that. That's perceived as greedy. People prefer the underdog story. So, I talk about the Hong Kong internship. It is actually a dream of mine. So, I'm not lying."

"(Continued) why don't you take it easy today? There is only one more guest arriving today. I can handle it. You'll have long days on the weekend with all the weekenders coming in."

Rachel smiled and got her jacket out of the office. It was a warm, puffy winter jacket. She zipped it up all the way over her mouth. She pulled the drawstring on the hood tight until there was only a small hole for her dark eyes to peer out. When she stepped into the winter world, the crosswinds immediately grabbed the sleeves of her pants and flapped them around. Her bare, brown shins were showing. She dug her hands deeply into the jacket pocket and braced herself for the long walk down to the city. The scurrying snowflakes drew pattern on the ground.

Her entire body was like one big heating machine throwing everything it had against the below freezing temperatures. She could feel the heat engines deeply inside of her body. The heat radiated out to the painfully cold surface, her skin. Little pockets of heat started forming among her big muscles as she strutted through the cold. A lone car passed her. The day was already almost night dark at 4 PM with the low sun and the thick cloud cover.

She reached the city with its snow covered cars, fences, and everything. There were mostly single family houses. She lived in a four story building with small bachelor rooms. She hung her coat in the closet. Her room had a twin sized bed. There was barely any space around the bed. A Harry Potter book was on the nightstand to teach her about Western culture. The bookmark was still on the first fifty pages. There was a small laptop that she used to exchange e-mails with her sister. The closet was mostly empty. Her pride was the warm winter jacket. The other clothes were her office slacks and shirts, which she had procured in Calgary at a mall near the airport.

She slipped into her pink pajamas and under the covers to warm up, while she wound down for the day with her laptop.

The next day, Patrick sent her to clean the rooms. She was pushing the cart with the big linen bin for dirty towels and the tray with cleaning utensils through the thick snow. The rubberized wheels weren't spinning much anymore. They were frozen in place or gunked up with snow. She was dragging the whole thing about the mercifully slippery mixture of ice and snow.

Her blue-gloved fist knocked on the room of the Mitchells. "Housekeeping," was her call. She had seen them leave for a sleigh ride on her way in. So, she only waited five seconds before using the master key card to open the door and get out of the cold. The room was toasty warm. The thermostat must have been turned up to eighty degrees. There was a scent of perfume in the air. Old people had a tendency to compensate hygiene with perfume.

The kitchen was neatly arranged. She could tell that the plates were used, yet carefully washed and dried. They were aligned a little differently than how she does it. Next to the fireplace was a mess of kindling. She picked up the wood pieces, arranged them, and then vacuumed the splinters away. There was a book with a rose on the coffee table. The title was "Waking up the erotic dragon after it has been in a slumber for a decade – You are never too old for a great sex life."

She went for the bedroom. The sheets had already been made and neatly tugged in. There was a five dollar note as tip on the pillow. The suitcases were closed and stowed in the cupboard. All the clothes were neatly hung as well. The Mitchells were very easy guests. She got the cleaning spray out and washed the bathroom sink and shower even though it looked immaculate. Even the shower seemed to have been toweled down. She took a kitchen towel and shaped it into something that looked like an origami-folded cute smiling face. The little touches make the experience special is what Patrick always says.

She returned to the reception desk. She cleverly put the book in a spot hidden under the counter, so that she could read Harry Potter. Yet a guest wouldn't be able to tell that she was reading for pleasure. It looked like she was standing at attention and arranging some kind of documents. The week days were long and boring. A little fairytale from the Great Brits was a welcome distraction.

In the afternoon, Mr. Mitchell appeared by himself. He walked in with purpose directly to Rachel. He paused for a moment to gather the words in his mind. Rachel looked at him curious. Mentally, she had a soft bend in her knees like a volley ball player ready to jump in any direction, wherever the serve may be hit.

"I'm a man, Meena. I don't mean that in a sexist way like women have to be in the kitchen. However, I feel lacking as a man if I can't start a fire. Do you have any tips on how to get a fire started? Also I need a new bundle of kindling."

"Don't worry," laughed Rachel. "You are not the first one to struggle. The wood is a bit moist. The key is in making a nice pyramid shaped pyre that sucks up the air. I'll get you another bundle of kindling. It's slow. I could leave the desk and help you get it started."

"That would be wonderful, dear."

Rachel stepped into the office to pick up two bundles of kindling and tell Patrick that she would be with Mr. Mitchell to light a fire. Patrick gave her the thumbs up with a please smile that said, "I love outstanding customer service." She put her thick jacket on and stepped with the tall, thin man into the biting cold winter. The walkway and driveway were slippery. There were multiple layers of ice blended with layers of snow. The loose stuff had been cleared. Yet, the hardened stuff had been left for late spring to thaw.

"So, you have two sons, Mr. Mitchell. May I ask what they are doing?" asked Rachel.

"Well one is a journalist. He works for the Toronto Star. I used to work for the Toronto star as a mechanical engineer to keep the presses running. Now, I'm retired. He sits in an office all day and write chit chat about celebrities. It's a hard job. His hanging on by an inch with all the layoffs in the news industry."

"(Continued) my other son Elliot is with the army. He is a tank specialist. Mary didn't like it at first. See she was a nurse at Toronto General Hospital. She worked in the ICU and saw really gnarly injuries. She doesn't like the killing business. Though, she realized over time that most of the time, he files plans for exercises or changes the oil on the tank. They've never been deployed. We have a make-belief army, you know, Meena."

"Actually, our family is somewhat of a military family. We trace our lineage back to Veer Budhu Bhagat. He was a great warrior during the Santhal rebellion in 1855."

"Tell me more, I love history," encouraged Mr. Mitchell.

They had arrived at the cabin. Mr. Mitchell opened the door. The wall of heat was still as strong as when she had cleaned. Mrs. Mitchell was taking a nap in the closed bedroom. The fireplace was full of black charred paper that crumbled, when Rachel cleared it out of the way with the poker. The tinder had burned black underneath a big log that hadn't caught fire.

Rachel got on her knees to crumble up paper and arrange the kindling. She took the big log back out of the fireplace. Mr. Mitchell kneeled next to her. She could smell his old-person's body odor. She loved arranging the tinder to prepare for the fire.

"My people Santhals. They are a kind of people that live of growing in rugged areas and a little hunting. We always avoided people. When the British came, the other tribes claimed more and more land. We kept withdrawing back until we were finally discovered. The discovery brought wolves in sheep skin. Men would come claiming to be traders. They showed us fancy fabrics and all kinds of modern trinkets. They would let us borrow these items for a while in exchange for loans."

"(Continued) the loans had huge interest rates, like 500% in a year. It would have taken a whole generation to pay back the loans. The whole tribe ended up in servitude of these loan sharks. Our women were forced to become concubines. They were disgraced."

"(Continued) there was a breaking point. All of the Santhals stood up one day as one. With bows and sticks, we broke into open rebellion. The loan sharks soon met their bitter end. The British were caught off guard. They send a small unit of Sepoy, Indian soldiers. We took them for breakfast. It only encouraged our people even more."

"(Continued) The British were in the habit of crushing rebellions. So, they sent a huge army with muskets and canyons. We had no chance. But our people stood as long as the drums were beating. And if everyone fell, the last would still remain standing. And when the drums stopped, we would withdraw a kilometer. The drums would continue. And we would stand again. Veer Budhu Bhagat was a great fighter. Only armed with an axe, he killed a hundred sepoy that were armed to the teeth. Eventually, a big canyon took him out at close range."

"Wow, you have a very proud history," admired Mr. Mitchell.

Rachel had used the iron holder in the fireplace to arrange the tinder. The thin, blonde tinder stick were layered on top of each other with plenty of air in between. Paper balls were placed strategically beneath.

"See, Mr. Mitchell, it is all about fanning. There bottom kindling will heat the kindling above it to release gas. That kindling will burn to heat up the kindling above. It's like a ladder. And on top of it, it will be supper hot. Make sure to avoid drowning the fire by putting too much on top. I'll keep the log outside until it is hot enough," explained Rachel.

Then, she placed a burning match underneath a paper ball. The small flame jumped from the match to the paper ball. The fire crawled over the paper ball until big orange flames were licking high. The first kindling slowly caught fire around the edges. Mr. Mitchell was looking on with red cheeks like an excited kid. Rachel felt big and tall like an expert. Her heart was beating bigger as the flames grew. Her hands were a little shaky, because she worried that the fire may burn out before the big log would catch fire. The wood was very young and moist.

The entire fireplace was ablaze in orange from the paper and kindling. Rachel knew that it wouldn't last long, because the light fuel would quickly be spent. She lifted a big log into the fire trying not to smother anything. Her fingers were working so close to the flames the Mr. Mitchell got worried. She assured him that she knew what she was doing and felt even bigger on the inside.

A huge pop signaled that the log was catching. Mrs. Mitchell was stirred from her slumber and came out in her pajamas with the hotel provided slippers. The log was happily crackling. Mrs. Mitchell looked at Mr. Mitchell with an endearing look: "Oh, just like on our honey moon!" Mr. Mitchell softly full body hugged Mrs. Mitchell. Rachel slunk out of the cabin with a smile knowing that she had done her part.

In the evening, Rachel was busy printing out reservation sheets for the arriving guests. It was Friday. A lot of them would come. The printer was crunching out page after page. She neatly folded it and placed the welcome package with the room cards inside of it. Patrick was outside instructing the handyman on details of snow clearing. The path to the lobby had to be immaculate. The parking spot dividing lines had to be visible, or people would park carelessly leading to late coming guests not to find space to park.

The first car was a white pickup truck. The suspension was raised to show big empty spots above the tires in the wheel housing. Snowboards were in the truck bed. The truck slid sideways into the parking spot. Therese were definitely party guys from Calgary, possibly college aged or a little older.
The driver and leader of the gang was a tall, muscular build jock type with long blond hair. The hair looked unwashed and unkempt. The clothing on his body was baggy and singular colored. His jaw was big. He had big blue eyes. Without any elegance, he pushed into the lobby. His boots were big. Because they were untied the opened up wide. He walked with a big swagger to avoid tripping over them. He smashed his hands onto the reception desk.

"Harry's the name, honey," he said. "On the ride up, we've been playing this game of saying how we lost our virginity. How did you lose yours?"

Harry was standing big with his XXL sized winter jacket wide open. His face seemed twice the size of Rachel. Rachel let out a perplexed "err."

"Hey, she's Indian. They do arranged marriage stuff over there. She doesn't have a dot on her forehead. So, she's probably not married," said the mid-twenty guy next to Harry. The other guy was 5' 5". He was skinny. His face had detailed features. His hair was black and neatly cut.

"I have done it," protested Rachel. "I've gone to college. I was twenty years old. Another student and I were in the dorm. He kissed me. Then he took his clothes off. His penis had a bent in it. He put it into my mouth. And then you know how it goes. He was very gentle and soft. He made me many compliments."

"Yeah, I was fourteen," said Harry as if he were challenging here. "I was on the hockey team. This one tart Betty decided to fuck the whole team. When it was my turn, I fucked her real good. After five minutes, she went to the next guy. I'm proud to say that I lasted longer than that."

"I don't know if it counts if you don't get to completion," said the other guy derisively.

Harry grabbed the key cards out of Rachel's hand. He also reached over the counter to take two bundles of kindling. "I know my way around." And he turned to leave the lobby.

"How many guests will you have in the cabin," cried Rachel after him.

"Eight or ten! We'll see who shows up," replied Harry without turning around.

"There is an extra charge for additional people," called Rachel. The automatic door had already swiped shut. She made a note in the account.

The next car was a small whoopty of a car. Six girls piled out of the car. They were clearly college aged. While the two leaders of the group were checking in with Rachel, Rachel could hear the three girls in the background talking about her:

"Have you seen her arms? There are so many hairs on it. She's like a bear."

"I'll call her black bear for the duration of our stay."

"She didn't get the memo about the existence of makeup yet. Is this some kind of Neanderthal that they pulled out of a rural village in India with no running water?"

Rachel smiled with her lips, while her face was struggling to disassociate from the painful feeling in her gut, the feeling of being embarrassed and outcast, the feeling of not fitting in. She was the stranger among the Canadian people. Every visit to the grocery store told her that, when she had to choose among food that she hadn't eaten back home. She had been brave to take every challenge as it came. Though, hearing those words was like a dagger twisting in her heart telling her that she had utterly failed. All her efforts of making a living here had been a joke.

"I wish you a wonderful stay," Rachel concluded her thoughts about her life looking at the girls with makeup and trendy clothing. "That's a lovely earring," added Rachel. She pointed at the big golden earring that was the letter 'G' for gangstress.

"Oh, that's so last year. I didn't want to wear my nice stuff on the ride. Here, you can have it," said the lead girl. She lifted the golden G out of the hole in her ear and put it down at the counter. Rachel didn't know if she should feel hurt for having been given something that was deemed too old fashioned to wear or gracious for a gift. The girl turned to walk away.

"Thank you," called Rachel after her.

For a long time, she was staring at the golden G on the front desk. On one hand, it was the closest that she had gotten to trendy. She had seen such jewelry in music videos on YouTube. At the same time, she feared that she was wearing something that people didn't like anymore. It was one thing to be with middle aged and old people, who were courteous. It was another thing to meet young people her age to realize where she fit into the social hierarchy, very low.

Patrick stepped out of the office. "Don't let it get to you," and he added jokingly, "little G."

After thinking for a while to form the right pep speech, he explained, "In our business, there are sad and insecure guests. We may find their behavior deplorable. Instead look at it as an opportunity. Every other hotel receptionist wants to lecture them. And they know that. Be friendly and gracious to the wild beast. If they realize that they are accepted here, they'll keep coming back and will be loyal guests. That girl is in college. She probably makes no money or perhaps 30 dollars at a fast food chain. She has nothing going for her, except her youthful looks and attitude. She doesn't have your world experience of having lived in two cultures. She doesn't have your completed college education. She doesn't have your career. Let her bark and pretend to be a big deal."

"And a little attitude in your attire wouldn't hurt. We do get a lot of young people. They like that kind of style. I think Lil' Kim was wearing that in one of her music videos." With that Patrick disappeared back into his office.

The rest of the evening was too busy to think more about it. Cars kept coming in faster than she could process the check-ins. There was often a line of one or two people. She pointed every incoming guest to self-serve a cup of tea from the little desk that she had prepared. People liked the welcome and sat down on the couches to chat. Rachel loved the excited spirit that the newcomers brought as they were looking forward to their time off and winter adventures. Wintertime is playtime after all.

Harry and his entourage came running into the lobby. They were wearing winter boots, board shorts, and big winter heads, nothing else. Their bare skin was exposed. They stormed through the lobby and out to the hot pool. They threw the clothes on the ground and jumped in. The two old ladies that were in the pool were a bit ruffled. They left a few minutes after listening to the boisterous sounds of the young guys. They weren't even words. Harry was hollering like a wolf. His sidekick was trying to sound like a hyena. Someone balanced a can of beer on his forehead that ended up spilling into the hot pool.

While Rachel kept processing more arrivals, the girls from the woopty arrived. They had white hotel towels wrapped around their bodies. Otherwise, they were bare spare for their shoes. Once they arrived at the pool, they dropped the towels and revealed tropical island ready beach bikinis and trim figures. One had a green bikini that showed plenty of her boob. Another had a pink Roxy bikini bottom that showed plenty at the side of her butt, because the side cut was running high.

At first both groups occupied one side of the pool with a no-man's land in between. Backs were shown to the other side. Yet, quick, coy glances showed a secretive, yet keen interest in the other side. And then a big holler from Harry turned the girls around. "Hey, I was going to wear the exact same thing." And he pointed at one of the girls in the bikini. He had big board trunks that went all the way to his knees. His pecs were big slabs of muscle. His belly wasn't the most contoured, yet still strong.

The girls were so nervous that they ignored the joke and went straight to a conversational question. "Where are you guys from?" Then the conversation lowered to a more conversation tone. Rachel could only hear the occasional hollering and laughing. Beer cans were passed around. Apparently a feature of board pants is that they fit at least four fully sized beer cans and come with a bottle opener.

Rachel kept sneaking looks out at the pool, while she talked with newcomers. When the night was late, newcomers had this hurried look on their face from a long day and an urge to crash in a clean bed. The party outside got increasingly drunk. The clean separation lines between the groups had melted. Girls were sitting on laps. Guys were dunking girl heads under water. They would come up all giggly and touched for a guy taking interest in them. The girls were like kittens who love being toyed with and teased to snap with their claws.

They eventually started doing a game with a spinning plastic bottle. They'd spin the bottle in the water. It didn't spin real well. However, the whole point was to point it at someone, who would explode into giggles and anticipation. It was hard to see what the person had to do, because everyone huddled around that person to see closer. Sometimes, Rachel lost her composure and was craning her neck to see better, while she was still in mid conversation.

The first time, she saw what happened was when a girl run around the pool bare chested. A guy was holding her top. Her boobs were bouncing wildly as if they were flying past her head. Her fists were raised high. She was running so eagerly. On the turn around the stairs, she slipped sideways. Her body was instantly on the ground. The pool people were roaring with laughter. She ruffled herself up. The guy at the reception desk had heard the commotion and was staring at her. She quickly jumped back into the pool and snatched her top out of his hand. A wave of high fives came her way.

Rachel was antsy to finish her current check-in. Her current check-in was very distracted by glances over his shoulder to see the pool. And then Rachel's fear happened. A girl raised a pair of board trunks high into the air. She held them by both ends of the top to stretch it out real wide. The board shorts were twice as wide as her. Then, she tossed them to one of her friends. The girls kept tossing the board shorts amongst each other. A guy was trying to chase after them. However, the water had too much resistance to catchup with the shorts quickly flying through the air. The girls giggled. The guys started chanting.

The guy's face got white. He got mad. His face eased. He grabbed the handrail to get out of the pool. There his white naked butt was running through the winter land. He was in full view of the people sitting on the couch drinking tea. His dong was flying wild left and right until it settled to flinging around in a circle like a helicopter. He was circumcised. His balls were shaven. He was a short stubby kind of guy. His butt cheeks twitched during the spurt. His long naked legs stretched out. He dove back into the pool. The leader girl handed him his shorts back. She was holding them pinched between her index and thumb finger as if there were something disgusting about them. She didn't want to reveal herself as a slut too much by liking his pants or nudity.

"Would you excuse me for a moment," she told the distracted guy in front of her. She stormed out with angry, swift steps. She opened the glass door to the hot pool patio. The freezing air didn't face her. She was on a mission. A guy was pouring beer out of a can into the mouth of a girl, who had her head leaning back. The beer ran over her mouth and into the water.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to remind you of the hotel rule for proper attire at the pool," Rachel announced.

"Is that bitch from the office talking to us," asked one girl. That was the only notice she got. The raucous continued as if she wasn't there.

"Guys, you have to keep your clothes on. There are other guests," she yelled louder.

"Allright," hollered a drunk guy back. "Just go back to your office."

"Look there are basic rules of modesty," she tried again.

"Here, here, now we'll learn about rules of modesty," mocked one of the girls.

"How about you'll show us your tits, and we'll keep ours covered," hollered another drunk girl to an applause of giggles.

"Yeah, show us your tits, and we'll behave," hollered one of the guys.

"I want you, valued guests, to have a wonderful stay. Could you keep your clothes on?" Rachel tried again. She was straining to get her point across without offending the guests. The guys and girls in the pool were clearly in party mood. The booze had loosened them up. They were oozing sexiness with the wet chests. Smiles and happiness was in their faces. Something was gnawing on her. She felt an emotional pull. She felt attracted to the male bodies. She felt jealous of the attention the females were getting. It was a very unformed kind of emotion inside of her, because she wasn't used to experiencing such a temptation from her culture. It was more that seeing the naked limps and feeling the atmosphere woke something up in her that was deeply buried during her study time.

Everything had been so orderly, when she studied. She would focus on the words in front of her. They had meaning. She would file the meaning. Then she would move on to the next words. Here she felt longing to be part of the group. She felt hurtful rejection for not being part of it. She felt painful powerlessness for not getting her point across. She felt desperation about failing in front of Patrick, who was surely watching her. All of those things bubbled around in her and clouded her rational thinking. Tears were nearing her eyes. Lusty smiles were twitching in the corner of her lips. Her face had waves of panic running over it.

"Pool is closed for tonight. Keep your clothes on tomorrow," said Rachel sternly. She turned around to get behind the base of the pool. She got her big key chain out of the pant pocket. She turned the key. The bubbles in the pool faded out. She walked back inside. She returned to her customer to check him in. The party people in the pool realized that the pool was getting slowly colder.

When they were confronted with having to deal with the cooling condition, they decided in their inebriated mood to make a protest march. They dried up outside of the pool in the cold. Then, they stripped their board shorts and bikini tops to go single file through the lobby in protest. The girls kept their bikini bottoms on, because that would have been slutty. One of the girls paused to face Rachel for a moment. The girl cradled her boobs and shook them, "You are a big meany and don't know what fun is! Go back to your buzz kill country." One of the guys swatted the other guy on the bare butt cheek.

Everyone in the lobby, including Rachel and Patrick, watched the parade coming through. She watched the naked male bodies. They were all in good shape from snowboarding and other physical activities. The boobs of the girls had such varied shapes: Really tiny, barely there; round as a ball ready to bounce; big and sagging like a cow. Rachel had seen as many penises that night as she had seen her whole life. Seeing their shape and how they bounced was educational. She had them only seen standing upright. She hadn't seen them in their casualness hanging between the thighs. She hadn't seen how small penises can shrivel.

Once the parade hit the outside away from the light cone of the lobby, they all started running like mad, because the air was freezing cold. Patrick apologized to everyone and handed out little good night baskets with cookies to make up for the unpleasant experience. Looking at the guys, in the room, they weren't actually that mad. They were rather red faced and eager to hush comments to their friends. It was Rachel's face that was throbbing for a whole hour after the incident.

When her shift was finally over, she was ready to get to her room down in the city and leave it all behind. A hand grabbed her shoulder with soft force, yet a very clear intention. "Rachel, can I see you in my office," said the voice of Patrick in that ever smooth hotel service voice. The melodic resonance from his chest lulled her into emotional docility. Yet a scream deep inside of her head screamed panic: "Don't let the warm demeanor make you feel safe! A private chat in the office is always trouble. Am I going to get fired? I don't have any savings. This job is the only thing that keeps paying the little room down in the city. It's way cold with ice and snow. I can't live in the street."

Patrick closed the office door behind them. "Have a seat," he invited her cordially to sit on his desk swivel chair. She glanced out of the window. The view into the lobby was darkened by the one-way-mirror glass. There were four computer screens on the U-shaped desk. The phone was a giant board of a hundred buttons. Randomly, she kept staring at the red fire extinguisher in the corner. There was something oddly pleasing about it. Perhaps, it was her mental escape hatch, like a fire happening now would save her from the talk. Or, the emergency equipment resonated with her inner mood.

"Yes, Patrick, what is it?"

"Rachel, let's talk about the situation at the hot pool. First, when you went out there. There is nothing anyone could have done. Those were drunk, belligerent guests who had formed a pack mentality. Turning the heat off was a non-confrontational way to make them leave," lectured Patrick. Rachel eased a bit up. She thought that there had to be a but coming real soon. Her body tensed up preparing for it. Her torso got rigid. The muscles hardened like a shield. She couldn't feel her own breathing. She starred into those clear, focused eyes and that well groomed face. Was he wearing makeup to get skin that pure?

"The right move would have been to go out there an hour earlier. Simply chat with them, make them feel special. Those young people love status. If they can go home and brag to their buddies how they are friends with the manager, they feel awesome. And you shouldn't feel like you are only the check-in person. Strut around the place like you own it. According to them you could be a manager. It's all in your presence. Once you befriended them, it's much harder for them later to switch to talking down to you."

"(Continued) the hotel business is a business of being smooth and behind the scenes. It's important to anticipate problems and head them off before they form. When you left, you could have reminded them that a beer or two is fine at the pool. However, drunkenness is not tolerated. They would have probably tried to prove that they are the good guys."

"(Continued) I've let you experience the whole thing without interfering, so that you could learn from it. The important thing is that we didn't get a liability case from it or property damage. However, I have to file a report with HQ. Any of the guests could have made a video about the nudity parade. If that goes viral, our marketing department has to run damage control."

"I am very sorry to have let you down, Patrick."

"These times are different. Before cell phone cameras, we had a lot of wild things happening here at the Hidden Valley. Sandra Oh, the famous Grey's Anatomy actress, had stayed here. Apparently, she had gone through a bad break and came here to hide from the world. Here, I'll show you."

Patrick leaned over Rachel to tap the mouse. When a login screen appeared, he entered his password. Rachel stared at Patrick's shoes to avoid seeing the password. They were shiny-polished black leather shoes with a gold clip as highlights. The screen switched to a four-way split screen with black-and-white cameras panning across the outside of the lodge. She saw parked cars and cabins with the yellow light on in the windows. Patrick clicked a search function and entered a date, years past.

Using a big knob, Patrick fast forwarded the modified camera view. It was trained on the first cabin. The first cabin had luxury bedding and Viking appliances. The first cabin was used for promotional photography and videos. A tall woman with her head low and a scarf covering her head and face walked into the cabin. The body posture was severely slumped. She looked like a haggard, sad loaf of an old woman.
Patrick fast-forwarded. Cars and passersby swirled past in one second intervals. Patrick slowed down as a man left the cabin. He returned an hour later with a big brown bag. "Her assistant or friend was the only one to leave the cabin for days. He'd go buy takeout food for her in the city. Now watch, what happened on day 6."

The video slowed down to real time. Snow was on the ground. It was 3 am in the night. Everything was quiet. Not even a breeze moved the trees. The photo might as well have been a still. The quiet let Rachel grow nervous. She shifted in her seat. The door opened. Rachel was relieved that something took her mind off feeling her own body and situation. A curly haired Asian head peeked out like in a cartoon movie to check if the air was clean.

After checking in both directions several time, the woman quickly walked outside. There was a big snow covered lawn with a bench before the next cabin. The woman stepped through the snow into the middle of it, leaving deep foot holes in the snow. She pulled her pants down to her knees and squatted with her bare butt. "She's peeing," added Patrick. Then, in tiny steps the woman moved forward, very much constrained by the squat and her pants around her knees. She shuffled sideways. It was a little mini-dance that the bare butted woman did in the middle of the night. She got up looking very frustrated. She left back into her cabin.

The video spun thirty minutes forward. Patrick appeared in the video. He looked at the urine markings and covered them with a shovel. "She only got to F-U-C before she ran out of pee. I guess that she tried to write something crass about her ex-boyfriend. Can you imagine how crazy viral that would go if it ended up on YouTube? Confidentiality is very important in this industry. So, we keep such videos secret here."

Patrick spun the video forward to the next day and switched the camera to the pool camera. "See here is Sandra Oh completely normal at the pool. She is acting cordial with other guests. Apparently, that was the release that she needed to move on. She went on a nice dog sledding tour that day and checked out the next. This place has a lot of secrets. People's lives have a lot of events. You are one of the guardians of private human behavior."

On her way home, down the sidewalk of the mountain road, darkness enveloped her. It was one of those eerily quiet winter nights. All the animals had gone south, were hibernating, or otherwise hiding. The trees weren't moving. The only thing occasionally cutting through the silence was the train horn of a long rumbling train going from the East Coast to the West Coast. The horn tried to spook potential animals at crossings. It was a loud, yet comforting baritone hum.

Without any other stimulation, her mind was replaying images of the day, while her feet carefully stepped over the ice and her face slowly froze numb. In her mind, she saw the bare chested girl slipping at the pool. There was a moment of suspension, the girl's arms and boobs raising high from the sudden acceleration down. The next instant, the girl's body was flat on the ground. Only her tiny polka dot bikini bottom was covering the pain, hurt, and shock the girl was hiding on the inside.

Rachel saw Harry leading the parade line with full frontal nudity. All of the guests in the lobby stared at his groin. Harry had taking it with pride a big smile and his chest puffed out, that chest that had seen 400 lbs bench presses to make it the size of two giant steaks like they don't sell them anymore. His sidekick had two nipple piercings and a barbell piercing through the hood of his circumcised dick. Rachel had never seen either in person.

All the penises she saw that night were flashing in her head like haunting her. Over and over her mind went back to them. She barely took notice of the dark night and the well trotted path home. And it made her wonder. It made her think back to that afternoon, when she lost her virginity. She was twenty. It was a bright summer day in Jarkhand province, the land of forests. Anshul was standing in the doorless entryway. He was wearing a white shirt, slacks, and no shoes.

The bright sunrays entered through the window into the window into the white-washed bare room. The twenty-year old Rachel was sitting on the mattress on the floor. That, the water carafe, and empty bowl were the sole things in the room. Her knees were together and sideways. Anschul waited for her to welcome her in. He politely stepped in and bowed. Then, he tied a red string around her wrist, the symbol that they were going steady.

Then he lifted her sari over her head. She was sitting plainly in her underwear. Silently she was observing what happened next. He undid his clothes, folded them and placed them next to the mattress. He kissed her lips. She felt that rich, wet emotional rushing over her. She liked it. His gingerly, pointy fingers walked down to her bra. He got the bra off. She felt the finger tips pressing her breasts. His lips latched onto her nipples. A tender and deep emotion was triggered deeply inside of her. She let out a soft moan.

While he did foreplay as his brothers had instructed him, she eyed down his body. Anschul was so skinny. It made her feel fat like an elephant, even though she was normal for a 5 food woman. His bones were so pointy. And then his penis was a novel thing to her. It was this small, skinny worm. And the tip of it right under the hood was bent at a seventy degree angle.

It wasn't long and he tried to get his bent penis inside of her. He poked her on the clitoris and in many places. It took a long time for Anschul to realize how much below the body the love tunnel was. And then he stroked her slowly and gently, while swallowing the copious spit in his mouth and trying to keep his mouth politely shut, when the urge to pant was evident in his labored breathing.

What she remembered the most vividly was the sensation of his naked skin on hers and him trying really hard like a struggling animal on top of her. He was soft and gentle, while whispering her poetic choice words that he had memorized from the instructions of his brothers. She was called a doe-eyed gazelle and the Shakti of his love temple. After forty-five minutes, Anschul declared the affair as done. Apparently, he couldn't get off either on the very slow and very gentle movements. They washed themselves clean of the dirty sex with the water from the carafe before leaving into separate directions.

Rachel kept wondering what sex with these strong, masculine, confident guys from the pool would be like. They didn't care to get permission from nobody. Yes, they were crass and loud. While she didn't like the crassness and loudness, she was drawn to the unabashedness that feeling that nobody not even the glares of other people were above them. They could do whatever they wanted. That made them dangerous. That made it a thrill to be near them. They could reach through the thick veil of expectations that had constrained her since being a young child. Her mother's admonishments for every little behavior and thought. She was envious of and scared by them at the same time. She would never be with them. She would always be behind the reception desk under the watchful eye of Patrick.

When her head hit the pillow, a deep, dreamless slumber overcame her immediately.

The next day, Patrick sent Rachel to help out room service, because all the cabins were fully booked. Rachel was giving the Mitchell's clean bathroom a once over. The super clean Mitchells would surely notice if their clean bathroom hadn't been cleaned to an even higher degree of clean. Rachel was on her knees with her hands inside of blue gloves, when she heard through the slightly ajar entrance door the craw of a couple ravens outside.

There was the tock sound of a beak hitting her cleaning cart outside. The ravens were probably making a mess of it. Knowing that the ravens would come back the moment she turned her back to the cart, she let them have it. Then she heard the youthful shush of a guest. The guest was probably trying to save the dirty laundry from being pecked on.

"The fucker won't move. He knows that I'm not serious." That was definitely Harry's voice. She wondered if she should go out or let them play with the ravens for a while.

"Those fucking beaks are huge. They could pop your eye out no problem. That birds at least half a meter big. Fucking smart as well." That sounded like Harry's sidekick. "All I say is Hitchcock."

"Hand me my snow goggles out of the backpack." There was a sound to those words that spelled trouble, like a knight steadying himself before launching his stead down a mountainside with the lance point trained at the enemy's helmet.

Alarmed, Rachel pushed of her knees and walked to the door. Harry was standing with his leading food far ahead. His following food was slowly pushing him forward, closer to the perceived menace of the two ravens turning over the dirty laundry with precision. Harry held his snowboard with both hands high above him ready to swoop it down like a weapon. Big, reflective snow goggles protected his face.

"No," called out Rachel. Too late, Harry rushed forward with a valiant scream that was the combination of a roaring tiger and a wounded squirrel. His gang of guys lowered their bodies as if to get ready for a fight themselves. The birds stretched out their over a meter wide wing span and jumped two meters to the side. The threating blackness of the birds was intimidating. The big snowboard hit down overhead onto the cleaning card with a loud bang. The unlocked binding rattled. The birds looked innocently at Harry from a distance that felt within grabbing range.

Harry turned around. He raised the snowboard overhead and lunge-smashed it down on the boards. The birds did a large one meter hop to the side. The looked into Harry's face that was lying smack in the white, fluffy snow. They knew the length of his arms exactly. And without getting up he couldn't move. So, they watched him teasingly close. Their heads were ever cocking into different directions. They were the smart ones. Harry was the big fool.

"It is okay. Don't worry about the birds. There is no food in the cart. They'll only make a mess of the towels until they realize there is no food." Rachel came rushing down the stairs to help Harry back on his feet. It was almost a magical moment, when she touched his thick, big gloves. He was easily twice her weight. She could feel that she wasn't much help in moving his weight back on his feet. He took her hand graciously regardless. There was an exchange in their eyes about the pool incident last night. Neither of them wanted to say a word about it.

"Let's hit the slopes," called Harry to lead his troops to the pickup truck and leave.

After she finished the Mitchell's cabin, Rachel went over to the guys' cabin, as she knew that they were gone. She still knocked perfunctorily, yet opened the door with her master key card right away. Before she even stepped inside, a wall of humid, stale, stinky air hit her triggering revulsion in her stomach. There was heavy jock sweat, boy stink, bean farts, stale beer, copious deodorant, and burnt breakfast thick in the air. Holding her breath, she entered the cabin-turned-dungeon. She feared that the revulsing particles suspended in the air would stick to the skin on her arms.

The path to the patio door was blocked by two sleeping bags and pads with copious helpings of clothing. The entire living room was filled with stuff. Rachel carefully shuffled the personal items to make holes down to the carpet for her feet to step. She could already feel her forehead getting sweaty from the warmth in the room and her own agitation. Finally, she reached the patio door. She pulled the glass door open. The sheer curtain fluttered in the breeze. The cold and fresh air cut into the stale room.

Rachel turned to the phone next to the couch and dialed the front desk. "Patrick, I have to call a code. Cabin 203 is a complete mess. I might be here for an hour or longer."

"Big surprise there. I'll have Alice cover the rest. (Click)"

She pushed the jeans and sweaters on the couch to the side to sit down for a moment. The cabin with the two queen sized beds seemed to have been occupied by ten guys whose luggage had exploded spewing its innards everywhere. Then, they covered everything with a layer of trash of empty chips bags, beer cans, and pizza takeout containers. Dirty dishes were everywhere.

In front of Rachel on the coffee table was a big white artist pad. There was a woman drawn as a fantasy hero. She was brown and Indian. Her foot was resting on top of the head of a dead black bear. She was raising a sword high into the air. The golden sword was studied with red and green jewels. And then Rachel realized that the drawn woman had her face. It was a cunningly precise reproduction of her face.

The drawn warrior woman was also of her small stature. The difference was that the drawn woman had full apple round breasts that were barely restrained by a bar made from tiger fur. Also, her drawn belly showed clear lines of her abdominal muscles. A skimpy tiger fur loin clothes left plenty of her body exposed. The thigh muscles had definition and reflected the sunlight as if they were lathered in oil.

Rachel flipped the artist pad to the next page. It showed Harry's alter ego as a Viking riding a sea serpent. The third page showed one of the girls from the pool with a double sided axe surrounded by demons that were taunting her. Fire was spewed through the violent drawing giving the demon warrior girl dramatic shadows in her face. Severed demon flesh on the ground painted the demon warrior girl with brave success.

There was an accomplished artist hiding among the brute, dumb boys. She wondered who it was, when she placed the notepad back down. She went to the task of arranging the sleeping bags neatly and folding the clothes into piles on the living room couch. Then she went around the room to collect the trash into a big black garbage back. She filled the dish cleaner with the dirty dishes. She cleared out the fireplace.

The real horror was in the bedroom. There was a filled condom discarded. A wet spot was underneath it. Rachel was so glad about her disposable gloves that she knew even surgeons trusted to keep their fingers hyper-sterile. She scrubbed the floor clear of the cum, so that future guests wouldn't have to step into dried cum.

When she got to folding the discarded clothes in the bedroom, she encountered a big stain in the shorts. The brownness was disgusting. She carefully held them with her finger tips and hid them underneath a pair of folded jeans. The bed sheets that she straightened out were still wet from sweat. Rolled in between two layers of sheets, she found a pink dildo. Curious, she sniffed on it. It smelled like pussy. The girls must have been over at the boys' cabin. She delicately put a face towel under the dildo on the bed stand next to the clock.

There was a gallon sized dispenser of sensual lube behind the bed. The lube was drizzled all over the bottle. She wiped it down and placed it next to the dildo on the night stand. In hiding, she also found a rolled up, tiny G-string. The small fabric at the front was tiger striped. She assumed that's where the artist got his inspiration from. She folded the G-string and placed it onto the face towel as well.

The worst was over. Of course the bathroom was a mess of toothpaste spit spots, hair, and stains. However, it was the usual scrubbing. She carried the dirty towels to her cart outside and brought fresh ones in. The place looked neatly cleaned up. She sprayed air freshener into each room and double-locked the patio door.

Getting behind the reception desk was a relief. All she had to do was smile and have pleasant short conversation about directions to restaurants and hand over kindling. The Mr. Mitchell came dressed in a suit with an overcoat. The red tie was held in place with a golden pin. Mrs. Mitchell fought her way across the ice in high heels with a gown.

"Could you make reservation at the Bison for two?" asked Mr. Mitchell.

Rachel could feel the formality in the air. The couple was dressed up to go for dinner properly. Rachel picked up the phone.

"Hey Ray, could you put a reservation for two in. And can you give them the table with the mountain view? They are special customers." Rachel winked one eye at Mr. Mitchell.

She put down the phone and announced with a charming smile, "You have the best table in the whole restaurant. Chef Michael will personally welcome you."

Mr. Mitchell's face was overly happy. Mrs. Mitchell looked at Mr. Mitchell admiringly for knowing how to arrange a special dinner. Mr. Mitchell shook Rachel's hand gratefully and extra-long. There was neatly folded ten dollar bill secretly passed. The special handshake made Mr. Mitchell extra excited. He took his wife in the arm and walked out.

One of the girls from the woopty came through the automatic doors. She was wearing a big green parka with black fur coming out of the top. Her legs were naked inside of Ugg boots. The big parka hiding her butt created the illusion that she was completely naked underneath. She went out to the hot pool area. The parka dropped and showed the girly figured underneath it in a purple/red flower bikini. She stepped into the pool with a book in her hand.

There was something endearing about how engaged her movements were. Her hand was carefully feeling the metal. Her butt squeezed hard at the sensation of the ice cold floor. Her whole body showed cautiousness, when her toes felt the hot water. Her body was like an open book of the emotions of her inner world. There was a melting and opening in her body posture, when she let the warmth soak through her shins into the body. And then she slipped her body into the water with a luxurious almost angelic expression on her face as if she was getting the most delicate treatment at a five star spa.

There was always one person left behind in a big group. There was always one person that wouldn't want or be able to go snowboarding. It wasn't long until the leftover guy from the boys' group appeared. It was Harry's sidekick. He had a kind of jumping guide as he came in only wearing his board shorts. He tried to fend of the freeze by rubbing his arms and jumping his knees high.

The first thing he said, when he entered was "Oh, shit." Then, he turned to Rachel and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that." He looked lost and confused at the girl in the pool and then Rachel.

"Can I help you with anything," asked Rachel in her cordial receptionist voice with an eager expression on her face that had been trained in front of the mirror.

"Uh, I wanted to go in the pool. But Rachel is already in the pool."

"I can assure you that there is plenty of space in the pool for the two of you. Why don't you go and enjoy yourself."

"But I don't know what to say. What if she talks to me? What should I say?"

"You can say anything. Like what did you dream last night?"

"Well, I was swimming underwater with the dolphins. And then Chuck Norris appeared. He offered to teach me how to firebend underwater. I was so excited. Then, he gave me a burrito and said, 'eat this.' So, I ate the whole burrito. And when I was done, I could firebend. I could even machine gun shoot fireballs out of my wrist. It was amazing."

"(Continued) it was amazing until Jack Bauer showed up. He yelled at Chuck Norris for giving me a Burrito: "You must never feed Tom a burrito." I didn't understand at first. And then I started farting. It wouldn't stop There was water bubbling all around me. The whole ocean was full of violent bubbles bursting to the surface. All the ships were bouncing around in the bubbles. And then I woke up, because I really farted, really loud. So funny to be woken up by my own farts. Uh, I guess I should have left that part out."
Rachel thought silently that explains one of the smell notes in the air of the cabin.

"'Hi, how are you?' always goes a long way. Look she is bored out there. She is waiting for someone to talk to." Rachel waved Tom to move.

"Alright," said Tom and took all the courage of his little body together to step out to the pool area. He stepped out of his boots, slipped into the hot water with the fog drawing out of it. He waded to the girl with water swirls drafting behind him. They had a short exchange and he walked back out of the pool and into the lobby.

"What happened, Tom?" asked Rachel.

"Well, she said," Tom was still dripping wet. He hadn't even bothered to towel off. He tried again, "she said, 'you are way too ugly. Go away.'" Tom stood utterly helpless. His eyes were widened big. His face was expressionless. The water ran down his body along passways. His pale skinny body silently shook with shivers.

"That's a little harsh for 'Hi, how are you?'" consoled Rachel.

"Is there a restroom," asked Tom. His eyes started to redden.

"Just downstairs is a changing room with a restroom," replied Rachel swiftly with alarm.

Tom doubled forward losing his composure and hurried down the steps.

Rachel aligned a few papers, while she had to keep standing meticulously in place, to help her sort out what had just happened and if she was liable for causing poor Tom the grieve with her advice. Simply saying hello should be a friendly gesture to anyone.

The girl came in with a towel wrapped around her torso. She lingered behind the half opened doorway as if she was torn about stepping in or staying out. Then she decided to come in anyway with a sorrowful face. She politely stepped in front of Rachel.

"I'm really sorry for how we treated you last night. I could need someone to talk to right now," said the towel wrapped girl.

"I really appreciate your concern. Of course, what is going on," asked Rachel.

"Well, I told Tom to fuck off pretty strongly. I just don't want to seem like a slut and be too easy. What if my friends would see me talking with him alone? They'd think that we were up to something. I can't have them think that. But I don't know. Tom had this really hurt look in his face. I felt like I just stepped on a baby kitten. He is kind of cute. He is the sensitive of the bunch. And he has the only real job. He is a legal researcher. I don't usually meet guys like him," confessed the towel wrapped girl.

"He went down to the restroom. Why don't you wait here and say something friendly to smooth things over," suggested Rachel.

"Okay," was all that the towel wrapped girl said, before she silently sat down on the couch facing the stairway down to the lockers. The tension in the next ten minutes was intense. Both of the girls anticipated Tom to come up any moment. Something would happen. It was like lighting a rocket in a bottle, spinning the bottle, and not knowing in which direction it would explode.

When Tom came up the stairs, he was in his head for a good five seconds. When he saw the towel wrapped girl, he shook as if electrified for a second. His face showed existential panic. Then, he quickly switched to looking stoic and turned for the automatic doors.

"Tom, hey Tom, I was a little harsh earlier. But you know why I had to be that way. I'll make it up to you and let me draw you. I'll also take my top off. And if you are a real artist, I'll go all Adam-and-Eve. I swear. But you can't tell anyone," called out the towel wrapped girl. Rachel shirked, when she heard the towel wrapped girl from thinking talking to a guy as being slutty to straight out offering to strip for him. Rachel kept her receptionist cool facial façade up.

Tom waited for a moment. The towel wrapped girl grabbed his hand. They walked out into the snow hand-in-hand. "And they say romance movies are illogical," thought Rachel softly shaking her head knowing that she was outside of their peripheral vision.

The couple disappeared into the boys' cabin. A couple hours later the afternoon picked up in busyness. People returned from their day's excursion. They needed firewood, extra tea bags, and DVD rentals. With lodges two night stay policy for the weekend, there were no check-ins. People had become comfortable in their surroundings and were going about their favorite activities be that watching a DVD, cooking, or building a fire.

With sundown, the boys returned in pickup trucks. They quickly changed and filed into the hot pool. Rachel took her lesson from last night well and visited them at the pool. They were sitting with their legs wide, pecs above the waterline, and beer cans in the hand. They were talking about hitting a ramp and eating snow on the landing.

"Hey guys, I'd like to make sure that you find everything alright with your stay," called out Rachel across the pool from dry land or at least solid land only marked by wet foot step.

"Hey that's the boss chick from last night," whispered one of the guys.

"Everything is dandy," hollered Harry at a volume that made sure that everyone inside the lobby and even Patrick inside of his office could hear it. The loudness made Rachel a little unsteady in her bones.

"How was your day in lovely Banff national park?" asked Rachel cordially.

"Fucking butt ass rocking. With all the powder from last night, we did some rad curves," hollered a guy.

Harry smiled with the grace of a hick before he skinned a possum, "Hey sweet cheeks, why don't you join us in the pool? It's wonderful here."

"Guests would miss me at the reception desk," replied Rachel formally.

"I'll fill in for you. Come have a good time with the guys. You don't think I could do it, do you?" asked Harry.

Rachel blushed at the double bind. She couldn't let Harry behind the reception desk. She couldn't tell him anything negative about him. "Aw, I made you blush, how cute!" called out Harry. Now Rachel was doubly blushing. She felt like a little girl on the inside. Her knees and butt were squirming around, uncomfortably wanting to leave and not really daring to step away at the same time. Why did he make her so tongue tied? As an Indian, she was always quick to say something.

"I'll go then," said Harry matter of fact. He rose standing. The water gushed off his body. His torso was big. There was a lot of water gushing. A deep belly formed in the water behind him, when he powerfully pushed to the stairs. Rachel was stunned for a moment.

When Harry grabbed the railing and stepped out of the pool. Rachel was overcome by instinctive panic. All her formality left her. She pushed against his chest with both hands. The two pound trained hockey player muscle moved forward with ease, while her body struggled from falling over backwards and keeping her small hands on his big bare pecs. He enjoyed feeling the feather light of her body against his power. It made him feel strong and in control.

"I'm sorry, I have never pushed a guest before," apologized Rachel and let go, still blocking the pass with her dwarf like body in front of the big man.

Harry stopped. The game was over. "Well then, when is your shift over?"

"At 10 pm," said Rachel gulping the next moment, when she realized that she had divulged a personal piece of information that she never revealed.

"See you then," said Harry ominously. He turned and slunk back into the water, like an alligator, he glided effortlessly in and his body disappeared spared for the head.

Unsteady and very eager to leave, Rachel turned around to walk away. Even though, she was wearing flats, she felt unsteady as if wiggling in high heels.

"Look at that ass," called one guy.

"Twenty bucks, I'll tap that ass before we leave," declared Harry with confidence.

Rachel closed the glass door behind her. The lewd comments were muted. Feelings and thoughts were running through her head. It felt foreign to no longer be viewed as the check-in robot. It felt not entirely comfortable to be viewed as a piece of meat either. Though, there was a small feeling of her boobs and feminine beauty having been ignored for a long time. Not since a college teacher had leered at her breasts had she felt so feminine and the possibility of having seductive powers.

She feared to think what would happen should she be in the cabin of the boys. These boys knew no constraints of society or decency. They would simply grab her. They would say whatever they wanted to say. And she could do nothing about it. She earnestly believed that Harry would have manned the reception desk. How impossible to have the brute in his trunks behind the reception desk talking to Mr. Mitchell.

When the clock neared ten o'clock, Rachel anxiously looked around to see if Harry would wait up on her. She tried to think of things to say to ward him off. "I have to come back to work really early." And then five minutes to ten, Harry strutted through the automatic door that opened with a swoosh sound. Rachel almost grimaced know that something bad would come, simply not what.

"Yeah, I'm really sorry to bother you. Our toilet got plugged up," said Harry apologetically.

Rachel paused sensing that there was a trap. The handyman had already left. She could ask Patrick and explain her security concerns.

"Hey, we are really not bad people. Our toilet is really plugged up. We are a little rough around the edges. What do you expect from young guys? Back home in Calgary, I'm a shift leader at a grocery store. When a grumpy old man comes, I have to say 'please' and 'yes, sir.' You wouldn't recognize me with my shirt tugged in and my hair slicked back with gel," told Harry. Rachel careful eyed him and upraised him.

"I can make you wait until tomorrow morning, when the handyman returns and you can use the restroom in the locker room downstairs. Or you have to promise to be nice and I'll go with you now. It's past my duty time," said Rachel sternly.

"I'd be much obliged. The boys will behave as well. It's really uncomfortable to get up in the middle of the night and not to be able – you know make yourself comfortable," pleaded Harry.

Rachel got her coat and waved Patrick good bye for the night. She walked out with Harry who held the automatic door open for her.

"You know, Rachel, ever since I got high cholesterol problems a lot of things have changed for me. I can't eat cookies or margarine anymore. A lot of the greasy bar food that I used to eat, I can't eat anymore. Working day-in-day-out checking groceries, I asked myself if that was all to living. And I realized the only way out was up. And to go up, I had to fit into the system. It sucks. But that's what growing up is like," revealed Harry about himself.

"You seem like a bad boy," said Rachel, nervous about being too forward, yet eager to test how real Harry was with his new tone.

"You're right. When I was sixteen, I was arrested for the first time. I didn't have a driver license. I was driving my car through a park. Probably, when I got the car airborne coming over a dirt hill, the police took notice and stared following me. We had real fun tearing through the dirt of the park. There were ruts from other kids driving around crisscross. The trouble was that I crossed out of the park on private ranch land."

"(Continued) that in and of itself wouldn't have gotten me arrested. However, it gave the cops cause to stop me and check my non-existing driver license. They made me spend the whole night in jail to sort out the paperwork. They had to verify the insurance information. They had to verify that my dad was actually my dad. All my dad said was 'driving without a driver license is not the worst thing you could have done. As long as nobody got hurt, it's alright, kid.'"

He was definitely dangerous, thought Rachel to herself. However, there was something mature about the way that he talked about it, like he had grown wiser. She kept walking with him through the snowy night. Whenever he turned to talk to her, it was like this big wall was turning and taking the light away. His jacket was wide open, making him appear even bigger. He had a big jaw. Yet, his eyes were blue and had something soft and peaceful in them. The blond, long hair was rugged and wild clumped into oily strands.

Harry opened the cabin door with his key card. The heavy scent of sweat and boys was in the room. The farts were still missing. The boys were crowded onto the couch butt cheek by butt cheek. With each hokey puck goal, they bounced together raising their beer cans in a loud cheer. They didn't even notice Rachel walking in. Harry and Rachel disappeared in the bathroom.

The bathroom seat was open. A mix of brown water and toilet paper was slowly swirling in the toilet. Rachel got on her knees and pushed the plunger a couple times before taking off her jacket. Her nose was struggling, when she looked into the mess. Harry closed the door behind her and sat on the sink to make himself comfortable and watch Rachel labor with her arms stretched out pushing the plunger double handed.

"You know you are real sexy on your knees," growled Harry in a low hum.

"Behave yourself," growled Rachel suspecting that it could have all been a ruse to get her out to the cabin for a cruel joke.

Harry unzipped his pants and slid them down to his thighs. And eleven inch long, thick erection of a straight dick stood out. It was so grotesque and at the same time so surreal, because nobody ever showed their penis just like that. "Look at what you are doing to me," said Harry sweet and accusatorily at the same time. Rachel kept focusing on the plunger. She felt like she might be in a dream. Her mind was tired enough from the day to be a bit zoned out. Her focus wasn't the clearest anymore. She felt little gaps in her concentration. She just didn't want to deal with it.

Harry started slowly stroking his hand of the length of his shaft. "I just want to let you know that you are really helping out. I really appreciate it." She didn't say anything. He wasn't coming onto her directly. She get this plug removed and get out of here, like it had never happened before. When she stared at the plunger and wet toilet paper, she couldn't shut out the afterimage of the red hood of his dick that brief glances to the left caught.

The toilet finally roared and the tornado swirl pulled the mess down. She washed the plunger in the shower and placed it down. "Hey Rachel, I'm a wet guy. Can you borrow me some spit? I'm kind of dry in my mouth." Rachel froze. Harry held his hand out. She stared at the big brawn. A spit wasn't worth much. Maybe, she could give him that and leave. She spat in his hand a white wad. "Thank you," he said cordially.

He wiped the spit over his penis making it shine wet. The white skin was richly enervated and had a nice red hue to it. She stared at the accomplished phallus statue. It was so different from Anshul's. It was like a Ferrari compared to a woopti.

"You can touch if you want to," encouraged Harry.

"I just want to measure how long it is," suggested Rachel. She put her hand lengthwise from his shaft hovering close to it yet not touching. It was much longer. She put her other hand widthwise on top of it. That was about the size. Her hands were hovering and shaking.

"It's easier if you place them down," encouraged Harry.

In a shift, her hands ended up touching the penis. The skin felt so soft and delicate. The rod itself was hard. Having already touches his penis, she placed her T-shaped hands along his shaft. He was a hand and half long. Wow!

Something sparked her to run her hands up and down his shaft. "Does that feel good?" she asked. It feels wonderful whispered Harry, leaning all the way back against the mirror surrendering his massive cock to her hands. She quickly straightened up and reached for the door handle. "I'm sorry," she said hastily.

He got up and grabbed her by the forearms. He lifted her whole body into the air as if she were a shopping bag. He pressed his lips savage like on hers. His wet hot mouth came over her sensitive lips. His big tongue burrowed through her lips and teeth to mingle with her tongue. A hot steamy arousal flushed over her. Her small five foot body nestled into his body. Her hands instinctively stared grabbing his back and pulling him closer. Her lips pressed itself onto hers. She hungrily drank from the fountain of life itself driven by instant passion.

He let go of her lips and whispered, "Do you still want to leave?"

She said "yes" and impatiently pressed her lips back on his to be connected back to that fountain of life. Her hands raced over his back to feel the powerful muscles contract as he was holding her. She was the little woman in the arms of the big giant. There was so much man and muscle that enveloped her. She could feel her belly against his hard six pack. She felt her boobs pressed flat against his chest. All the while, her mouth was sucking on his. A torrent of wetness formed in her pussy like she had never experienced before.

Hunger, pure hunger, was driving her to suck harder on him to venture deeper with her tongue. She had to get more of whatever was feeding her. Her small hands grabbed him with all her force. She had never been that ferocious in her life. She had always been calm, patient, and understanding. He put her thighs around his big hip. She was writhing her body uncontrollably. An unknown last overcame her. The beast, the dangerous man, he was hers. She was riding him and he was pleasing her.

He ripped her dress shirt and bra in one swoop overhead without undoing either. She was topless with a man. She had never been that ravaged. His brawns grabbed her whole breast and squeezed it hard, really hard. It was a mixture of pain and deep pleasure. It was a button that she had never felt pressed. She begged harder. And he painfully pinched her nipples. It made her mind alert. It created a kind of arousal that cursed through her body like apple flavored sweetness – a mixture of good feeling and a little stringent feeling to get awoken.

Her pants were pulled down next without unzipping either. Her hips had white marks of bloodless skin from the tight fit. She had never know that she could have gotten out of the pants without opening them. Stark naked spare for the shoes, Harry lifted her bare butt on the sink. She felt the cold marble. He pulled his sweater off. She bit his nipples as she had seen in the movies. It felt surreal. Just like in the movies, Harry grinned in his teeth in a mixture of pain and deep surrender. With her teeth around the areola digging into the skin, her tongue was flicking the tiny male nipple, the size of a match stick head.

She was biting, licking, and sucking her way down his belly. She tasted the sweat of the snowboarding session. She loved it. It was dirty. It was very male. She was very hungry for male. He lifted her up. He positioned his cock. And he went all the way into her. Now, she is a small 5 foot girl. He is a big guy with a dick even big for his size. She felt herself painfully stretched. He went in all the way anyway.

"It hurts," whimpered Rachel.

"This is prime Canadian meat. There are whole babies coming out of that pussy. It can take it," insisted Harry.

He was already five thrusts into her. Her pussy was so super slick from the intense passion in the room. Yet, pain flared up each time, he got fully into her. The pain got better as her pussy juices spread over the length of his eleven inch cock. And the stretching pain gave melting way to pleasure. Ten strokes in, she was looking forward to the sensation of being stretched. She pushed her pussy down onto his cock to feel even more of that stretch in her belly. She couldn't get enough of that fullness. And quickly she was slamming her hips hard against his. The bones crushing against each other even hurt. However, the stretching fullness reward felt so much better.
"I'm coming," she cried out. "I've never had an orgasm before in my life. Go harder!"

He paused for a moment, to lift up her legs over his shoulders. That way he could penetrate her deeper. His arms pulled her torso close to his. She couldn't believe that she was leaning forward in a stretch to taste that sweet nectar in the mouth of his between her legs, which pointed to the ceiling. Harry slammed her hard. The flesh spanking each other echoed in the small bathroom.

"Uh, uh, uh," moaned Rachel with blood curdling intensity. His balls slammed against her butt cheeks. Everything was blocked out to chase that intensity in her pussy, the rising sun, the super nova unfolding inside of herself. She grabbed, kissed, bit, and fucked Harry as hard as she could. He let any damage happen to him, like the nail marks digging into his back and the teeth forgotten how hard they were biting into his lip, while her pussy was fucking him.

"I'm coming again," her voice was so high pitched and loud that it screeched painfully inside of Harry's head. However, in the heat of the lust it only drove him on even harder to fuck that brown bundle in his arms and on his cock. He slammed his cock inside of her with force of utter abandon to damage that he could be doing. And she was so dripping wet and slick that he barely felt a thing, so smoothly slipped the projectile cock inside of her.

The butt under her had gotten slick from her own sweat. She got him to let her down. She forced him onto his back on the small floor. She straddled his hips and fucked him cow girl style. Sweat was all over their bodies. She was dripping onto him, as sweat pearls collected on her nose and chin. Her breasts flopped up and down violently.

"What a fucking tigress," panted Harry. "Never underestimate the furry in a caged animal."

Those were the last words before his pelvis pressed up and froze in place. Like paralyzed all the muscles in his body contracted. He looked up at her with his eyes wide open. The photo her towering over him, her dark brown nipples and that smutty face of hers burned into his memory. Then the pulsing in his cock released his seed.

In the oxytocin rich silence of the aftermath, they noticed that even the hockey game had been muted. A quite voice outside asked, "Is it safe to go to the bathroom now? I've been holding it in for the last two hours, because he made us wait."

"You definitely want to give them some space after such a performance, definitely," said another voice with deeply reverent respect.

Harry started warming hugging her. His hand drew gentle lines on her back that felt so soothing. They rolled on the floor with the little floor towel. The most comfortable was with the legs in the bathtub. She traced lines through his face with her face really close. Seeing each other so close set them into a very intimate and tender space. They enjoyed the sensation of their naked bodies on top of each other, the human connection, the bonding. Harry's penis shrank and flopped out of her pussy. She felt the wet coming out of her. They still stayed in a warm embrace in the comfortably, cramped position that they found in the small space.

Eventually, Rachel had to leave. She got dressed with her skin having dried up the sweat. She quickly ran out of the doors before the boys could see her. Harry stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. "Toilet is working again, boys!"

All night during her sleep, scenes of Harry's flesh, the feelings, the skin, the nakedness, and his cock replayed in her mind. When she arrived to work the next day. Patrick was standing behind the reception desk. He knocked a key card against the wooden counter to make a point. "Very immature," he said. He shook his head and repeated, "Very immature." Then, he left into his office.

She only saw the boys the next day afternoon, when they were checking out. They all filed in with their winter pants and thick jackets. They stomped their boots at the automatic door respectfully. They seemed a lot more somber. They were already getting back into their professional skins of having to show up at work the next day.

After the receipt was signed, Rachel said, "Harry, can I show you the locker room facilities, so that you know what a beautiful facility we have?" She got out from behind the counter without waiting for his response.

Tom said eagerly, "Oh, I want to see as well."

"No, you don't," said Harry firmly putting his hand on Tom's shoulder.

"Okay, I don't," acquiesced Tom sadly.

Rachel led Harry down to the men's locker room. She closed the door with a sign "maintenance. They went into the bathroom. She pulled her pants down. "I've got five minutes before I have to be back up. Can you do it in that time?"

Fire of joy flashed over Harry's face. "Hell yeah!" he cheered. He threw off his clothing without unzipping anything or taking his shoes off. His cock was instantly hard as if it had pyro electronics like an airbag. He pointed his cock and entered. Her pussy had an equally impressive emergency sprinkler system that doused wet slick over the length of his shaft. This time, she had experienced the sensation already. She loved all of the little, piercing stretching pains and was slightly saddened and left missing, when her pussy happily devoured his entire cock without stretch.

It was rough and quick affair. They tried to bite, suck, and kiss each other with a speed record. She tried to smear her clitoris on his based with each down stroke. At minute mark two, her series of orgasms set in. On command twenty seconds to five minutes, Harry flashed all kinds of dirty images over his mind to hasten the boiling seed to spill over.

At the five minute mark, he pulled out, pressed her down on her knees, and shot his load all over her face. Big wads of pure white Jell-O graced her bushy, dark Indian eye brow, one up her nostril, and one long spurt across her cheeks down to her lips like a savage pirate scar. "I love it how dirty you are," crooned Rachel. That was the last image of Rachel, which Harry froze permanently in his mind to stay there until his last breath, when he died at the ripe age of 73.