Rescued from her car that she drove into a ditch in a blinding snowstorm by two strange men, Cindy learns they are both gamblers. They are also hot. As the blizzard rages, she decides to reward them with a game of her own devising. It takes her down erotic roads she's never traveled before, having hot and hard sex with both men. ~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~ The last thing she remembered was that everything had gone white. The snowstorm had come in fast covering the asphalt. Joanne didn't know the road and went straight when the road curved to the left. Her car went into the ditch. She sat in it letting the heater keep her alive until it ran out of gas. By then the windows were nearly covered. She couldn't see a damn thing. It didn't take long for the car to get cold. Her coat was nice but not all that warm. She'd bought it more for the way it looked than its functionality. And now she grew numb. She'd taken a shot and it looked like she'd lost. Complaining didn't seem right. She was a gambler and you didn't win them all no matter how good you were. When the odds went against you, well your luck had just turned bad. There wasn't much more to say about it. The snow was still falling, the snowflakes big and sticky, so that they covered the windows and made everything white. And now she remembered only that. She'd been too damned cold to even remember the cold. She'd read once that when things were too massive to comprehend, you just remembered them in an abstract way. Like the brain couldn't even really get wrapped around the reality of a million dollars and stuck to ideas about what it meant, rather than the thing itself. The cold was like that. She knew she'd been cold but you couldn't remember something like that. Besides, the white was visual. And she wasn't cold. She wondered if she was dead. If she was, it was disappointing. You kind of expected death to be very good or extremely bad. This was more like lying on a bed, under quilts. Lying naked on a bed under quilts. Alive. That's what it felt like. She heard voices. Men's voices, muffled as if they were in another room. She thought to open her eyes and see what death looked like and found it was much like a small bedroom in a rustic house. Okay, so the afterlife was rural. She could deal with that. She got up and looked at herself in a mirror on a dresser. She looked a lot like she had when she'd been alive. Not as good, but you expected that. She ran her hand through her short hair and getting it somewhat organized. Even dead it didn't seem right to let yourself look like shit. Not entirely. But she was beginning to think she wasn't dead. For one thing, she was hungry and she wanted a drink too. Somehow that didn't fit with her ideas of being dead. On the other hand, there was no way she got out of that car alive. She'd been freezing to death. But here she was, feeling all mortal and alive. She sat up and wrapped one of the smaller quilts around her. There were creatures in the next room who sounded like men. Whether they were men or demons or angels, they might have some idea of where she was and how she got there, and she wasn't one to sit around wondering when she could just find out. She went to the door, opened it and stepped through. Two young men, one blond, one dark, looked up at her from some sort of card game. This was the living room. A gorgeous fire roared in the fireplace and she felt drawn to it like a moth to light. The dark man was handling the cards, looking like he knew what he was doing. "This f--ing blizzard looks like it's gonna last forever."
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The Interpretation of Dreams is a book by Sigmund Freud. The first edition was first published in German in November 1899 as Die Traumdeutung (though post-dated as 1900 by the publisher). The publi...
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