I haven't been everywhere in the world but I've been to enough ski resorts to believe that Mammoth Mountain, in California, is about as good a place to ski as any. A lot of money has been invested over the years so there are literally hundreds of possible runs, something around thirty different lifts (many of them high speed multi-person), all with some of the best snow possible. Unlike many other ski areas, Mammoth was not developed around an old western town. It was developed because of the snow and a sprawling community has grown around the base. It's three hundred and some miles north of Los Angeles. The tens of thousands of Southern Californians that drive for hours to get there have supplied the money that helped develop the mountain and have also contributed to the urban sprawl type of development. There's no "down town" as such. Oh, there are plenty of places to stay and plenty of restaurants and bars but like Southern California it's spread out. It's never developed as a chic resort like Aspen or Sun Valley or others. But it's a great place to ski.
It's sort of my home mountain in that I'm from L.A. I even dropped out of college for a year to work and ski at Mammoth. Now, seven years out of school, I'm doing very well with a fairly small but growing L.A. advertising agency. I plan my clients' work so that every three weeks or so I can take off a few days, drive up to Mammoth, and ski. They all know it and seem to enjoy living my hedonist life by proxy, always asking me all about everything. I think it's actually helped me in business.
So that's where I am at the moment. It's about three thirty in the afternoon. I'm sitting at a table on a sunny outdoor area that's part of a restaurant/bar at the base of a lift, having a beer, wondering whether to go back to the top for a final run or call it quits to a terrific day. The upper lifts close at four, the lower at four thirty, so my skiing day has to be near its end.
About fifty feet in front of me are the racks where all of us at the bar put our skis. I can't help notice a striking female stepping out of her skis and putting them in the rack. I'd seen her a couple times on the hill. She's a very good skier. She's in a one-piece, bright red, outfit. Looks like a very good body. I mean, the suit has to be insulated with some thickness yet she looks like she has a mode's body. Sort of long and slim. You never know for sure about women -- someone that skis as well as she does may turn out to be fifty or more. She pulls off her goggles and cap and lots of dark hair comes flying loose.
She's beautiful! Women that gorgeous are what I've usually seen in the lodge or restaurant showing off, not skiing like mad on the mountain. She's walking towards the patio area. I can't help but stare. I don't think she has any make-up on at all, she's just naturally gorgeous. And young. I'm not great at ages but she's no fifty year old. I'd guess early twenties or so. Dark eyes that almost seem to glisten. High cheek bones. Great chin. Small mouth. Well, maybe not small but not one of those wide slashes across the face that some slim, good looking women have.
She's smiling. Looks like she's smiling at me. I've never seen her before but I think she's coming to my table. I must be imagining this, she's probably headed to her boy friend somewhere back of me. No. She walks up, smiling and looking stunning, pulls out a metal chair next to me and sits down, giving one of those contented sighs that happen as you relax.
"Hi," she says.
"Hi," I answer back. "Great day."
"Yes. Great snow. A perfect skiing day."
I've got to say something but I'm so entranced by how lovely she is that I can hardly think. I feel stupid because the time is stretching and I can't think of what to say or do.
"Buy me a drink," she says, interrupting my dumbness, "and I'll sleep with you."
Oh fuck. Did I just hear what I think I heard? "Oh,"I finally manage to force out. "Sure, what do you want?"
"Whatever you're having is fine," she says, nodding at my beer bottle. I'm sure I stumbled as I pushed back my chair and hurried to the bar to get a beer. What is this? The most beautiful girl I've ever seen on the hill offers to sleep with me? How do I handle this. Why me? What's behind all this? Back at the table, I hand her the beer and sit down. I realize that I handed her a bottle. I should have got a glass, too. I had been wondering if I heard right or what's behind all this.
"I'm glad to get you a beer," I finally manage to say. "It will raise my standing in the whole community to have the most beautiful girl on the mountain sitting with me." I pause a moment, not sure about what to say next but since it had been on my mind, I had to mention sex. "But you don't have to sleep with me for it."