A Midnight Clear

This is my entry for the Literotica 2021 Winter Holidays Story Contest! The setup is a sweet story about falling in love at Christmastime, the payoff is explicit, steamy sex. If you like the story, please consider rating it!

All of the sexual activity in this story is joyful, consensual, and between adult characters.

Happy Holidays!

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For weeks, if you had asked Lily if she was waiting for him to come in for his coffee each morning, she would have laughed it off.

"Of course not," she would have said. "I have lots of regulars that I know. I'm not waiting for him specifically. I just notice people, that's all."

And if you had remained silent, simply cocking an eyebrow in her direction, she would blush and become flustered and look for ways to break your gaze, perhaps grabbing a towel to clean an imaginary spot off the counter, or to wipe down the already gleaming espresso machine.

"Stop it," she'd say. "He's just a nice man. He just talks to me to be polite."

And if you were to do absolutely nothing, and just stand there regarding her with an appraising look on your face, she would throw the towel at you.

"STOP. I mean it!"

But she'd blush even harder.

Andrew usually arrived between 9:00 and 9:20, sometimes with a laptop, sometimes with a Kindle, sometimes with a book or a newspaper. He liked to sit, nursing his coffee, enjoying the atmosphere.

"I've been into a lot of coffee shops since I moved here," he told her, a few weeks after his first visit. "But yours is the nicest."

Lily thought so too. She loved the Happy Moon Café. Before it had been so lovingly restored, it had been a tiny, derelict heritage building hidden on a small downtown side street. The owner had taken great pains to keep the red brick walls and walnut wainscotting intact, and the effect was that of a warm, cozy living room. Works by local artists adorned the walls overtop of gold brocade wallpaper. All of the furniture was wood, and the luckiest patrons arrived early enough to snag the table with the plush burgundy armchairs by the window.

She had started working there as her other job had slowed down in the fall. She lived and worked on a hobby farm that provided school programs for children and trail rides and birthday parties on the weekend. It was a small operation owned by her best friend, populated by three goats, some chickens, two pigs, and a dozen horses.

During the spring, summer, and early fall, the farm had kept her very busy: feeding the animals in the morning, running school programs in the morning, then grooming the horses and leading trail rides evenings and weekends. But she loved the pace, she loved the kids who visited (well, most of them) and, most of all, she loved the animals.

Lily was living in the grooms' quarters: a tiny, one-bedroom coach house just up the hill from the stables. The furniture was mismatched, but it had everything Lily needed, and she had decorated it carefully; her favourite books on a little shelf, cozy throws and cushions on the sofa, and a deep, plush burgundy comforter on the bed. The coach house was close enough to the stables that she could rush down there quickly if something was wrong, and her vantage point on the hill gave her a good view of the paddock.

But really, the farm was an escape, a safe haven. Stephanie and Doug could have run it perfectly well on their own. They didn't need Lily to lead the trail rides, a teenager on part-time hours would have sufficed.

But Stephanie had known how lost Lily had been after her mother had died, about how Lily would have to put the house up for sale, and insisted that she move into the coach house immediately after the funeral.

"You'll be doing us such a huge favour, Lily," Stephanie had said. "We're really overwhelmed with everything."

Lily knew this was a lie. But the gesture showed her that she was loved.

And in return she poured love into her job. She read her customers carefully, sometimes providing chatter and jokes during trail rides, other times allowing the guests to experience the beauty of the property in silence. She carefully groomed the horses every day, even if they weren't being ridden, and she delighted in how they quivered and relaxed beneath her hands. Sometimes, when she couldn't sleep, she'd pull a sweater over her pyjamas and go to the stable, comforted by the sounds of their gentle nickers and slow, warm breaths.

But she knew that she had to save some real money if she was going to eventually move out on her own again. She needed a job that would let her get back to the farm in time for evening feedings and the occasional trail ride. So, here she was, in this tiny café, making specialty coffees and selling pastries from the bakery next door.

And she had really grown to enjoy this place. The regulars were kind, they tipped well, and working alone meant that she could sneak some time to read here and there when it was quiet. And as the days grew shorter and the winds more cold and blustery, she enjoyed the cozy atmosphere of the café more and more.

And then he started coming in.

At first, he was like every other customer. He ordered his latte, she'd make it for him and take it to his table. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Except... that wasn't really true. He was never like every other customer. He had an openness about him that immediately drew her to him. He was handsome, sure, tall with deep blue eyes that crinkled up when he smiled. Older than other men she had dated, but that didn't matter; she felt inexorably drawn to him. Even when he was just ordering coffee, he really looked at her, smiling deeply into her eyes. He never left without saying goodbye to her.

"You make wonderful lattes," he told her, a few weeks after they first met. "At some places they're bitter, and I have to add a bit of brown sugar. But yours are perfect."

"Thank you," she blushed.

Why was she blushing over a latte? For God's sake, it's your job, Lily. Pull it together.

The next morning the café was empty when he arrived. It was a lousy day, cold and overcast. But he was there, right on time. As soon as he came in the door, she called out to him before he could even get to the counter.

"The usual? Andrew, is it?"

He chuckled.

"What a good memory. Yes, it's Andrew. And yes to a latte, please." And he made his way to his favourite window table.

When she brought his coffee over, Lily noticed what he was reading.

"Oh! Cloud Atlas! That's one of my favourite books!"

"Is it?" he smiled.

"Oh, I love it. All of the different narrative styles and that nested doll structure that Mitchell uses? And I love the way that he blends different genres, and how he pays off everything that he sets up. I love the part with Cavendish, when you see that he ... oh wait, maybe you're not there yet."

Andrew was regarding her with an amused warmth.

"Sorry," Lily cast her eyes down. "I just get excited about books."

"I can see that," Andrew said. "That's lovely. Not enough people do these days, I'm afraid."

"Well," Lily said, embarrassed. "I should let you get back to it."

"Please stay," he said, his blue eyes holding hers, "until another customer comes in, at least. Sit down. Tell me about some other books you like. What should I read next?"

And she was off, her initial trepidation falling away as she talked. He was such a good listener, so attentive and kind. They dissected the books they had in common, then moved on to films.

Lily had almost forgotten where she was when the door bell pinged and a group of women came into the café. She started, then leapt to her feet.

"I must get back to work. Can I get you anything else?"

"No, not today. I'd best be going."

He lifted his empty mug for her, and their fingers brushed as she took it from him.

"That was a lovely conversation. I really enjoyed it..."

Lily beamed. She couldn't help it. "Lily. I'm Lily."

It wasn't until she was behind the counter that she realized that, at some point during her conversation with Andrew, she'd let down her mass of wavy brown hair. She had no memory of doing so, but there was the clip, in her apron pocket.

She quickly threw her hair up again, still feeling the heat of his fingertips on her hand.

That night, Jillian, who usually worked the afternoon shifts, called her in a panic. She'd had a chance to pick up some tickets to a matinee performance of a musical she had been dying to see. Could they switch shifts tomorrow?

Of course, said Lily, but her heart sank a little. If Andrew came in at his usual time, she'd miss him. Then she immediately chastised herself. How silly you are, she thought, with your schoolgirl crush.

She arrived for the afternoon shift and was relieved to find that Lauren, the manager, had left a note on top of two big boxes in the back room: "PM shift, if time, please put up Xmas decorations!"

Perfect, she thought. That will keep me occupied.

But there wasn't time. Lily spent the afternoon serving a steady stream of customers until she finally flipped the "Open" sign on the door to "Closed."

I'll just stay late and put the decorations up myself, she decided, on a whim. It will be so nice to come in tomorrow and have the lights and tinsel up. And that sweet little tree in the corner. All of a sudden she felt very cheerful. She cued up her Christmas playlist and dragged the boxes out into the middle of the floor.

After forty five minutes, she had set up and decorated the tree, carefully arranging the lights and ornaments so there were no gaps. Fully lit, the tree emitted a warm, happy glow. She turned off the overhead lights and continued to work. She arranged an assortment of Christmas tchotchkes on the counter, gaudy and adorable. The tangle of Christmas lights was stubborn, but she didn't mind, humming along to the music as she worked the stubborn knots.

When the door pinged open, she was balancing precariously on a chair, trying to loop the first strand of lights over the hooks just under the crown molding.

"Sorry, we're closed!" she called out, trying to manoeuvre her body around to look at the door.

It was him.

"Hi!" she said in surprise, losing her balance on the chair, and half stepping, half falling off.

"Hi," he said. "Are you okay there?"

She blushed. "I wasn't expecting you to come in. You come in the mornings." Oh God. That wasn't what he asked. She blushed harder.

"I did come in this morning." He smiled. "You weren't here. So I thought I'd check later and come in for a decaf. I'm too late for that, it seems."

"We close at 5:00. I decided to stay, to decorate. But I'll make you a coffee if you like?"

He chuckled. "No, that's not necessary. The tree looks lovely, by the way. But what you're doing now...that doesn't seem very safe, teetering on that chair. Do you want me to hang those for you?" He'd already shrugged off his heavy coat, and thrown it over a chair.

"No, no, it's okay. I can do it. I'm not going to put you to work here."

He moved toward her. "Well, at least let me spot you while you do the highest lights. Will you let me do that?"

Her heart leapt, and she gave a shy smile. "Ok. I mean, that would be great. If you don't mind." And she stepped onto the chair, suddenly conscious that the skirt over her black tights was quite short.

As she reached up to hang the strand of lights, her sweater slid up, exposing a touch of bare flesh at her waist. Each time she lowered her arms, she'd tug it down again nervously.

They developed a rhythm: move the chair, Lily steps up and hangs the lights, Lily steps down, move the chair. They didn't speak, but Lily's body began to respond to his nearness, his strength, his masculine solidity. She could sense a wetness between her legs.

They had almost finished when Lily suddenly swayed on her toes on the chair as she reached up as high as she could, too high. She dropped the string of lights to steady herself on the wall in front of her.

Quick as lightning, Andrew's hands were on her waist. She could feel the span of his hands, their heat, their strength, and she closed her eyes for a moment, revelling in his touch.

"Are you okay, honey? Here, step down, let me do these last two hooks."

He kept his hands on her waist as she did, and for a second longer than he needed to once she was back on the floor. Lily turned to face him, and looked into his eyes.

He's going to kiss me, she thought.

But the moment was fleeting, and he was taking the strands of lights from her, standing on the chair, moving it over, finishing the job.

"How's that?" he asked, stepping back with her to look at the finished product. As he did, he laid a gentle hand between her shoulder blades. Lily thought she might melt. They stood there for a moment, basking in the warm glow.

"It's perfect. Thank you so much. I'm so grateful you showed up when you did."

"I was hoping you'd be here tonight. I wanted to let you know that I'm going to England for a few weeks to visit my family."

"Oh! I have family in England too. What part are you from?"

"Hampshire. If you can believe it, my grandfather was born in a little town there called Nether Wallop."

Lily laughed. "I've travelled in England, so I can absolutely believe that. I'll never forget my surprise when I drove through 'Lower Swell.' I have an immature mind, I suppose."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," he smiled. "I'm not quite sure when I'll be back, but I was hoping that I might be able to take you out to dinner when I do."

Lily swallowed. "Yes, yes please. I'd like that." She could hear the hammering of her heart.

"Wonderful." By contrast, Andrew seemed completely self-possessed. "I'll come and see you and we'll make plans then."

Lit only by the glow of the tree, he looked incredibly romantic. His eyes held hers, and she caught her breath.

He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, then gathered his coat, and was gone.

Lily touched her cheek where he'd kissed her. She could still feel his hands on her waist, on her back. He had asked her to dinner.

And he'd called her honey.

In bed that night, all she could see when she closed her eyes was Andrew. She slid her hands across her stomach, to mimic his hands on her waist. And suddenly, her heat was rising, one hand moving up to her breast, the other between her legs. And, as her back arched, she saw him smile.

In the days after Andrew left, time crawled. At the farm, the demand for trail rides diminished, and was replaced by requests for horse-drawn winter hayrides. Soon, there would be enough snow to switch the wagon for a sleigh.

At the café Lily chatted with the other customers happily, but her eyes were always drifting to the café door. It was ridiculous, he had said he'd be gone a few weeks, but every time the door pinged, she'd glance up excitedly, hoping it was him.

So she kept herself busy. She bought Christmas presents for Stephanie, Doug, and the kids, and wrapped them carefully. She decorated the little coach house. In the evenings, she brought the heavy tack for the sleigh up to the coach house, and rubbed saddle soap into the leather as she watched pointless and yet somehow endearing Hallmark Christmas movies.

By the time Andrew walked in, just a few days before Christmas, Lily was caught by surprise. She had stopped hoping that it was him at the door every time it pinged.

The café was busy, she had been preparing sweet specialty drinks since they opened. Happy Moon was known for its Christmas drinks, and at this time of year, the enticing smells of cinnamon, ginger and vanilla wafted out into the street. Lily's cheeks were red from quick work and standing over the frother.

When she saw him, she flushed redder, and gave a little wave. He smiled, looked around to find all of the tables full, then got in line for the counter.

"Hi!" Lily said, when he reached her. "How was your trip?"

"It was lovely, thank you. Have you been well?"

"Yes. It's been busy, but everything's fine. I..." the door pinged again, and a group of four girls came to stand in line behind Andrew.

"You are busy. I'll have a latte, please. To go."

"You got it." Lily smiled, but her heart sank.

"When do you finish today?" he asked idly, as she prepared his drink.

"One o'clock."

"Shall I come by then? I thought you might like to have lunch. I know I said dinner, but..."

Lily's heart swelled, and it took her a moment to meet his eye. "I'd love that. That would be great!"

She wished she could give him something extra, to let him know how happy she was to see him. Then, it occurred to her. Inspired, she grabbed a toothpick. After she poured the drink, she quickly drew a little Christmas tree into the steamed milk.

"Here you are, sir," she said, pushing the cup toward him.

Andrew looked down and smiled. "That's very cute!"

"Well, I have been making an effort," Lily said. "But really, I'm cheating. Real baristas can do it without etching." She sensed the girls in line swaying from foot to foot. "I'd better keep going. But I'll see you later?"

"You will. I'll come and meet you here. At one."

Surprisingly, the customer flow was steady enough that the time flew by. At ten minutes to one, when Jillian arrived for the afternoon shift, Lily raced to the back room and suddenly realized what a mess she looked.

A morning in front of the frother had left her red-faced and frizzy haired. And, oh God, she had chosen today to wear her tacky Christmas sweater. It was bright orange, with rows of snowflakes and trees on it. She had found it at a thrift store, and couldn't resist, but why did she wear it today?

Furiously, she pulled the sweater over her head, balled it up and stuffed it into her backpack. She'd just be a little cold, wherever they were going. She quickly dragged a brush through her hair and applied some lip gloss, cursing herself for not having taken more time this morning.

She pulled her wool coat tight around her, and walked out past Jillian. "Have a great afternoon," she called over her shoulder. She didn't want to have to answer Jillian's questions when Andrew arrived. She stood outside the café with her hands buried in her coat pockets, stamping her feet to keep warm.

Then, in a moment, he was there, striding towards her. And as naturally as if he had known her for years, he wrapped Lily in a brief, warm hug. She fought the sudden urge to bury herself in his chest, and breathed in his warm scent, a mix of soap, cedar and sandalwood. It was like being embraced by a cozy wood fire.

"Now then," he said, moving away from her. "Where would you like to eat? You must be hungry. Is there somewhere nearby that you like?"

"Oh," Lily said, momentarily taken aback. "I hadn't thought... um... do you like Italian?"

"I love it," Andrew smiled down at her. "Let's do that."

An hour and a half later, they were in the warmth of Tavalino's, three quarters of the way through a bottle of red. Plates of food, barely touched, lay in front of them.

The conversation had been free and flowing. Lily talked about her Literature degree and her disillusionment at her first job as a writer, churning out celebrity drivel for a clickbait farm. Andrew talked about retiring from engineering and moving to Canada after his marriage had fallen apart.

"No children?"

"No," Andrew said, and left it at that.

They had discussed books and films, and had entered into a spirited debate about whether Kubrick's The Shining was more frightening than the novel. Lily felt happier than she had in months.

Finally, Andrew crossed his knife and fork on his plate.