Ski Patrol (Part I)

(A little fiction, dedicated to and inspired by M, one of our regular readers)


Molly clicked her boots into her bindings, sliding on snow softened by the warm southwestern sun. She was enjoying her rare day of solo skiing, already looking forward to an hour or so after lunch, when she would monopolize one of those lounge chairs in front of a chalet restaurant at mid mountain.

It was a mid-week, with a small crowd day on the mountain. As she entered the lift line, Molly was planning to sit back and let the sun bronze her upturned face on the ride up, but as she arrived a the front of the lift line she heard a voice on her left:

“Mind if I join you?”

Molly gave an automatic nod, paying little attention as she positioned herself on the chair, hoping that this one would not be a “chatter”.

As Molly settled in for the ride, he pulled the restraining bar down.

“Not with your usual entourage today?”

She looked over, took him in for the first time. A semi-familiar face, part of the local scene, all kitted out in his Ski Patrol outfit, red jacket labeled with a white cross, a long loop of rope tied to a tool belt of some type. He flipped up his goggles, uncovering blue eyes and a rugged face that had not been shaved in a day or two.

“Mike”, he said, extending a gloved hand. “I’ve seen you with your family up here over the years”.

“”I’m Molly”, she said, taking his hand. “Kids are back east. Husband is working today. But I was not going to pass up a day like this.”

They chatted on a bit as the lift made it’s slow climb, made a bit slower by a few of those annoying stops as a boarder took a tumble at the top. But Molly realized that the delays were not so annoying. Was he flirting a bit? And was she flirting back? Seemed so. And since Molly had certain “rights” why not? If Mick was too busy to ski, she could certainly finding other “diversions”. And he would get all hot and bothered when she told him about it “après ski” over a glass of wine.

Molly decided to push the edge of the envelope a bit …

“So what’s all the rope for?”, she asked, nodding at the loop at his waist.

“Oh, all sorts of things. Marking off a closed trail. A rescue on steep terrain. And sometimes there is the recalcitarant ski bunny that needs to be taken in hand.”

With that comment, Mike raised his eyebrow with a bit of a smile. Molly’s snicker acknowledged the ‘joke”, but she refused to break eye contact, pushing a little farther.

“Oh…are you good with your knots, Mike?”

“Haven’t gotten any complaints, m’aam." His laugh was disarming. But his frank appraisal of her, a bit unnerving to Molly. Had she pushed a bit too far?

"Here let me show you a little trick.”

He took her ski poles in his hand, handing them to her.

“Hold them this way”.

Molly was amused, and compliant. They were only a few moments from the top of the lift. Not much harm could be done, right?

He positioned her gloved hands so they were holding the poles at mid point, in front of her. Then he extracted a relatively short length of cord from his pocket. A few twists and one knot later, Molly’s wrists were tied together, and tightly lashed to the poles she held in front of her.

“Funny”, she said, deadpan. Suppressing the flush of arousal that caught her by surprise. Hmmm….this guy was ….good. She squirmed a bit in her seat, as Mike raised the restraining bar. They were almost at the top of the lift.

Molly wiggled her wrists. “Cute. Now, aren’t you going to untie these?”

“You’re a very good skier. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that cute little ass on the mountain these last few years. You can just follow me….”

With that the chair arrived at the top. She had to get off. She had to follow.