I used to love the cold, was invigorated by it...relished the little vapors of smoke in the morning from my mouth and my steaming cup of coffee. Extra blankets and sweaters could always be added. Okay, it takes longer to doff these extra accoutrements in the heat of passion...but sex under the covers, sex in front of the fire place...does much more for my libido than sex in the heat of summer. Sweaty, hot summer...Daniel and I produce our own heat, we don't need the accompaniment of 90 degree temperature...thank you very much! And then there is the cold air conditioner blowing on naked bodies...talk about shrinkage.

Hockey season happens in the cold...skiing...skating...Colorado cold has nothing on the frigid days of Minnesota. The place of my youth...the gauge at which my body temperature grew up at...and adjusted to...and became accustomed to...until now.

Now Daniel...grew up in the heat of the deserts. No air conditioning ...just the relentless beating of the sun and like a plant, Daniel languishes in the heat of the summer days of Colorado. After our first summer together...I no longer even turn my air conditioners on. I decided that being sweaty and damp was an even trade during the summer months. My choice, rather than having to listen to Daniel gripe through chattering teeth and wearing multi layers of clothing while he drank endless hot cups of coffee in an attempt to stay warm. Guilt...Daniel's really good at that guilt thing.

* * * * * *

I hear the front door close and I cringe. I know what's coming...my reason for changing my attitude as to why winter is better. I burrow deeper under the covers, pulling them over my head in a fruitless attempt to feign sleep. But Daniel really doesn't care whether I'm sleeping or not.

I hear the creaking of the steps, as Daniel ascends to the bedroom. I will myself to even out my breathing... sleep...sleep. I am granted a few minutes reprieve as I hear the bathroom door close...I'm pacing myself...picturing Daniel's nighttime rituals...knowing what is ....

Daniel whips the blanket off his side of the bed and a cold breeze from the blanket's movement make me shiver...involuntarily--not from anticipation--even though I *know* my fate.

"Damn. It. Daniel." I yell as he wraps his body around me. His cold, shivering body around my own pleasantly heated one. Bare feet the temperature of ice cubes run seductively over my *warm* bare appendages...sliding up and down my legs. All ten of his toes doing a happy dance in an attempt to extricate every ounce of warmth from my body. Cold hands slither under my tee shirt causing goose bumps to make an impromptu appearance on my chest. Daniel moves his icy hands downward...I feel the elastic of my boxers....

I grab his hands "You don't want to go there, Daniel. Believe me."

"You know what they say about cold hands..." He laughter reverberates against me...his cold nose pressed against the nape of my neck.

Sighing in exasperation, I turn so we are facing each other...I take both of his hands and rub them between mine...warming them. As punishment, I place a gentle kiss on his forehead, Daniel hates that...almost as much as I hate this winter ritual...of cold hands and warm hearts.