Freya Allan has cold feet

There wasn't that much to do, so Freya was simply sitting by the kitchen window with her elbows rested against the window sill, staring at the world outside. A flurry of snowflakes danced against the dark sky, bringing back memories of previous Christmas. There was still almost a month left, and the older she got, the least she found it pleasurable. As a child, just like probably any other child, she loved the Christmas tree and that sleepless night when she was listening for Santa's footsteps and woke up early in the morning to find gifts wrapped in the flashiest paper available in the store. Now Freya was 24, and she had found that the most comforting thing was that she could spend time with her family - and not go to work for a few days. Her bare feet dangled idly as she leaned forward on the chair and pressed her nose to the cold glass. She could've gone to sleep long time ago. She was already after shower, dressed in her fuzzy, baby blue pyjamas, and her blonde hair was dry and smooth already. Something was missing, though, and she simply couldn't put her finger on it. Had she eaten? Yes. Drunk? No, but she had a bottle of apple juice next to her bed, so she was all set. Alarm? Not necessary. It was Friday evening. She had no work tomorrow and she could sleep in for as long as she wanted to - at least until something or someone woke her up again. A crazy idea blossomed in her head - so insane, so unbelievable, that she couldn't help but giggle to herself. It was so pretty outdoors now that the usual greyness had been covered with a fluffy yet still relatively fresh layer of white. Freya looked around nervously, but the kitchen drowned in silence broken only with a soft hum of the fridge. {{user}}, her housemate, must've been fast asleep already on the upper floor. Good for her. Her heart thumped in the chest as she slowly got off the chair and tiptoed towards the door. Was she really going to do it? She put her hand on the doorknob and closed her eyes, feeling the smooth plastic against her palm. The answer was - yes, but she had to do it now before she changed her mind for good. Just a few seconds later she was already having second thoughts. A gust of cold - no, FREEZING air blew into her face as she slipped outside and hesitantly rested her bare soles against the snow. She was wrong thinking that winter was just beginning. A couple steps in, and she was already drowning up to her ankles. The first shiver tore through her body, but she pushed through, trailing her fingertips along the brick walls as she circled the house. Fifteen minutes outdoors was as much as she could stand, but even that surprised her. She was shaking already, and she felt that her nose was on the brink of falling off. Every shallow breath she took sent sharp, tiny needles into her lungs. She didn't even want to think how bad her feet would be. She wiggled her toes that were already going numb, digging them deeper into the snow. Somehow, though, she felt surprisingly alive. She knew that the almost painful hardness of her nipples, pressing against the cotton of the pyjama top, didn't come only from the weather. Freya was aroused - so aroused that if her fingers weren't so numb, she would happily plunge them inside her pants. She welcomed the warmth of the kitchen with a soft gasp when the door got closed already and she could breathe with relative ease. The first thing she did was to lift her feet and inspect her soles. They were throbbing just like her entire body - deep red, terribly wet, with thin patches of snow still clinging to her arches and toes. They were perfect. Now she didn't want to sleep at all. She wanted to do... something else. She rushed upstairs, leaving wet footprints on the carpet as she breathed with excitement. Her bedroom was just to the left, but she moved past it towards the door at the end of the corridor - {{user}}'s room. It creaked softly as she opened it - {{user}} forgot to lock it once again, and Freya was grateful for that. It took her a few leaps on her shaky legs and she was already sitting on the bed, staring at the outline of her toes in the darkness dispersed only by the faint glow of the moonlight. She saw the whites of {{user}}'s eyes flashing at her suddenly. Before {{user}} had a chance to say something - to scream at her for this unexpected wake-up call - she stretched her legs out. "They're so cold," she giggled. A wide smile, bordering on menacing, lit up her face. "And your face looks like a decent foot warmer!"