Its black steel stovepipe rose up through the floor above to a brick chimney, its base set on a shelf high in the stairway enclosure. A cast-iron wood-fired range with high-backed warming ovens stood against the kitchen side of the stairway enclosure. An under-stair pantry stood beside the kitchen entrance. The two stoves heated the entire house.Sawdust filled the spaces between the sheathing planks and the log walls for crude insulation. Under-layers of thick felt paper topped with layers of cracked wallpaper covered the downstairs log walls and the upstairs plank walls. Other than sawdust and layers of paper, the house had no insulation. When the wind blew, window drafts would flutter the flour-sack curtains Dee made with her foot treadle sewing machine. Winters in the Methow Valley commonly reached 20 and 30 degrees below zero.Plumbing was primitive: one cold-water faucet over an enameled cast-iron sink. The sink drained to a dry sump outside the kitchen wall. A weather-beaten. But a moment later, while still feeling them move around me doing who-knows-what, I caught another scent. One I could not put a face to, but certainly knew to be that of a woman.As music began to play, just loud enough to mask any mistaken whispers in the otherwise silent room, I felt my lovers come to either side of me. One strong hand reached behind me to the small of my back, arching my body forward and pushing my breasts out. I felt a point of cold steel softly touch my neck and slowly trace down my body to the base of my shirt. I heard scissors open and deftly slice my shirt from my body, causing a quiver of fear and excitement to run down my spine. Again the scissors cut, this time up each sleeve so my shirt fell from my torso to be lifted away as my other lover removed his hand from my back.Next, my feet were lifted, gently yet firmly, to rest on the shoulders on one lover sitting in front of me. His hands slid up my legs as my heels rested against his chest. Up under my skirt.
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