Free Snowbound by Bill Pronzini

Grange Electric in Soda Grove, and assiduously, she had sought out the right men with whom to sleep—the men with a little money who did not mind making small loans or cash gifts in exchange for the use of her body. Men like Hidden Valley Mayor Matt Hughes.
    She had always believed Matt Hughes to be something of a puritan: righteous, religious, happily married, certainly not inclined to extramarital affairs. As a result, and despite the fact that he was the most well-to-do man in the area, she had never really considered him a possible stepping-stone. But then she had gone into the Mercantile one afternoon more than a month ago to buy some groceries for her mother, and he had been there alone; he kept looking at her, she could feel his eyes on her as she moved along the aisles, and when she had gone up to the counter to pay for her purchases, he made overtures that were at once carefully veiled and, to her, altogether obvious.
    Concealing her surprise, accepting him immediately because of who and what he was, she had hinted that she found him attractive too, and that she would be willing to see him in more casual surroundings. Nothing more had been said that afternoon, but Peggy knew that she would not have to wait long until Hughes followed through; in point of fact, she was half expecting his call to her at work the ensuing Monday.
    He said then that he was planning to be in Whitewater that evening, would she like to have dinner with him? She pretended to think it over and eventually allowed that she supposed it would be all right. He suggested she meet him, if she didn’t mind the short drive, at a place called The Mill—a small restaurant on the outskirts of Whitewater; she said that was fine, and met him that night, and responded to his flattery and to his physical presence just enough to let him know she was definitely interested. After dinner, however, she demurely declined his suggestion that they go somewhere alone; she made it a practice never to seem too eager, which invariably made men like Matt Hughes want her that much more. When he asked if he could see her again, she feigned reluctance and then told him that even though it was probably wrong, dating him when he was a married man and all, she really couldn’t bring herself to say no.
    They had three other dinner engagements at The Mill before she finally allowed him to kiss her, to fondle her, to maneuver her to the small motel on the outskirts of Whitewater—one which did not ask questions or care to what exact purpose their units’ beds were put, this being the middle of the winter off-season. He had been almost laughably excited when she accepted his proposal, as if he were an overeager teen-ager who’d never had a woman before, and she had thought he would probably be totally unsatisfactory as a lover. But he had surprised her in that respect, he was really very accomplished. Sex for Peggy had been a source of intense physical pleasure from the very first, and Matt Hughes was as proficient as any she had gone to bed with in the past four years. It made the arrangement with him all the more satisfying . . . .
    They lay without speaking for a time, and the only sound was the penetrating voice of the wind as it whipped through the pine and hemlock outside the motel. Finally, Hughes stirred and rolled onto his side and said, “You’re fantastic, Peggy, do you know that?” in a voice still thick with desire.
    She smiled again. “Am I, Matt?”
    “Yes. Oh yes. Peggy—can I see you again tomorrow night?”
    “We still have more of tonight, baby.”
    “I know, but I want to see you tomorrow too.”
    “Well, I’m not sure if I can . . . .”
    “Please? I’ll have something for you then.”
    “Oh?”
    “A Christmas present, a very nice Christmas present.”
    Peggy lifted herself onto one elbow, looking at him closely now in the darkness. “That’s sweet of you,” she said. “You’re awfully sweet, Matt. What is it?”
    “That would spoil the