KEEPER

Sweeping the lantern beam across the room, Wayne spotted his pocket transistor radio atop the refrigerator. He reached for it and switched it on, but its battery was low, its sound barely audible. A weak signal faded in and out:

Travel throughout central Alabama remains extremely hazardous. All highways are officially closed to traffic. Travelers finding themselves stranded in the severe cold are advised to take precautions against the onset of hypothermia, the lowering of the core body temperature that can lead to death. Find a warm place as quickly as possible and remove all wet clothing . . .

The sound then died as the radio's battery expired.

Wayne touched the woman's cheek and felt the coolness of her flesh. She should be warmer by now. Carefully he lifted the blanket. Wet clothing clung tightly to her skin, her blue print dress hiked high around her thighs. The lower half of her mud-splotched girdle was visible, and one of her stockings was twisted around an ankle. The other remained firmly in place, secured by a single hook, but torn by a line of runners. Her uncovered leg was etched with a maze of minor scratches.

The lantern shook in Wayne's grasp, his hand growing sweaty as he examined her further. Her dress was torn at her left shoulder and a dark bruise marked her tender skin. Wayne swallowed hard and wiped his brow. Visually tracing the length of her body, he admired her flawless figure, imagining how beautiful she must have looked at her high school prom, her hair perfectly in place, her body accented by a sheer evening gown.

With a startling gasp he settled back in his chair. He was getting an erection. God, how could he? Not now. Not in this situation! This woman was so helpless, so fragile. He thought about tomorrow, about how he'd find help for her and how she'd thank him. He'd be her hero.

The girl shuddered briefly, her eyes remaining firmly shut. Wayne reached to spread the blanket back over her, but stopped mid-way. Her clothes were soaking wet. Should he wake her? Like the radio said, she had to get out of these wet clothes. He nudged her lightly and watched her head shift slightly without awakening. He shook her harder, until her eyes opened groggily, then closed again.

Hypothermia, Wayne reminded himself. He watched her purple lips quiver in the dim light long after he himself had found warmth, and remembered the cool touch of her skin.

Should I take off her clothes?

The possibility brought a nervous tingle to his skin.

A drop of perspiration rolled down Wayne's cheek. He turned off the stove burners and lowered the thermostat on the kerosene heater. For a moment he reconsidered. What if she should awaken? He flashed the lantern beam in her face, and she slept undisturbed. Wayne's skin crawled with anticipation. He shifted from the discomfort of untimely arousal and considered his next move.

He had no choice but to proceed. She could die.

Quietly he returned to the sofa and gently lowered the blanket to her feet. As before, she lay on her back, both arms to her sides. Again the rise and fall of her chest elicited waves of desire. Wayne reached for the hem of her dress, gripped its soggy fabric, and tugged it lightly toward her head. Now the sleek curves of her hips came into view, her undergarments stained from muddy water. She wore a full-length slip which was also hiked around her waist, thin layers of mud oozing from its many folds and wrinkles. Gently, he tugged the dress and slip together, catching first glimpse of the smooth, creamy skin of her stomach. And though the breathy movement of her navel was engrossing, it couldn't begin to match the sight of her exposed bra after he'd pulled her dress and slip to a tight bundle around her neck.

Anxiety quickened his pulse. How could he remove her clothing without jarring her injured left arm?

Beads of sweat collected again at Wayne's forehead. Carefully he took her right hand and stretched her arm out and above her head, then bent the arm at the elbow to slip it through the sleeve of her garment. Her skin felt encouragingly warmer. With her right arm free, he slipped the ring of clothing over her head and gently slid it down the length of her left arm. When it was done, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Standing above her, Wayne marveled at her figure, his shadow from the lantern bending eerily across her body and creeping up the wall behind her.

She was like nothing he'd ever seen.

And yet he felt ashamed by his arousal at the sight of her vulnerable form. But he mustn't concern himself about that now. After all, his actions were entirely justifiable. He'd remove the rest of her clothing without lingering and quickly wrap her in a warm, dry blanket.

Wayne slipped his hands beneath her back and fumbled clumsily with the clasp of her bra. The loosened elastic straps contracted in his grasp, and he felt himself growing uncontrollably more erect. The color of her skin looked healthier by the minute, he told himself. Dropping the right strap over her shoulder, Wayne repeated the earlier process to remove the bra without disturbing her bruised arm.

The sight of her breasts was almost more than he could stand. Her thick pink nipples stood erect above their soft milky mounds, so much more appealing than those within the pages of a men's magazine. He wanted to touch them, and it took all his self-control to keep his hands away.