Eighteen Candles

This short story is an entry to the 2015 Literotica Valentine's Day Contest. I hope you enjoy it and, if you do, please don't forget to vote!

*All characters involved in sexual situations in this story are eighteen or older*

* * * *

"So, do anyone special for Valentine's Day?"

Craig smiled at the screen, where his sister's image froze for a heartbeat as she waited for his answer, and shook his head. "I just stayed home -- alone."

"Alone? What about that girl Mom told me you've been seeing?"

A clear glass vase, filled with a dozen red roses, was hidden behind the laptop, just out of his sister's view. He couldn't help stealing a glance at them. "Kelsey? She's just a friend."

"That's not what Mom said. She said it sounds like things are getting serious."

He laughed. "I'm surprised she hasn't already planned the wedding. Honestly, Kelsey's just a friend."

"Good...because I was a little worried when Mom told me you were dating a teenager."

Craig rolled his eyes. "You make it sound like she's still in high school. I mean, sure, she's only nineteen so I guess technically that means she's still a teenager, but she turns twenty next month.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter," he said, as his eyes darted once more to the dark red roses behind the screen. "She's not my girlfriend."

His sister arched an eyebrow, as if she wasn't sure she believed him. "Well, like I said...good. I hate thinking of you stuck all alone out there, but you need to find someone closer to your own age. You're too old to be dating someone who's only nineteen."

"You make it sound like I'm fifty. I'm only twenty-nine. Nineteen isn't too young."

"You know it is. Don't try to tell me you forgot the rule: half your age plus seven. That's the limit. And you're going to be thirty this year, which means you're not allowed to date anyone younger than twenty-two."

Craig sighed. "Don't worry, I'm not."

His gaze flicked back to the roses as his sister's image flickered on the screen, her eyes filled with concern.

"You sound so lonely," she said. "Why don't you move back home? Come back to your friends. Come back to us."

He shook his head. "I can't. I need to be here if I'm going to keep this job."

"I understand, and it's getting late. It's after eight here. I better help get the kids to bed." She kissed two fingertips and touched them to the edge of her webcam lens. "We miss you."

"I miss you too. Bye."

Behind his sister, he saw his brother-in-law playfully chasing his niece and nephew around their living room, yelling that it was time to put their pajamas on. And then the connection was broken.

Craig closed his laptop and stared at the glass vase; the water that had filled it two weeks earlier was now long gone. He slammed his fist in frustration against the table, and as the vase jumped the petals broke loose from the dead flowers and fell as silently as tears.

He wiped his eye with the back of his hand. Even without the roses as a reminder, he couldn't stop thinking about her.

He knew Kelsey was too young. He'd known it from the first time she'd smiled at him.

And he wasn't an idiot. He knew, as a server, it was part of her job to be friendly toward any guy seated in her section; you had to flirt if you wanted to get a good tip.

But he'd thought it was different with him. There was something about the way she'd watch him while he was reading the menu, trying to decide what he wanted, and the way she'd brush her sleek blonde hair back behind her ear and blush when he'd catch her looking. Something about the way she'd lean close to him, reading the menu over his shoulder as if she wasn't familiar with the item he was ordering even though he knew she knew every word on the page by heart. So close that her arm brushed against him, so close that his senses were filled with the scent of the sweet perfume kissing her skin.

He ate at the restaurant six or seven times before finally working up the nerve to ask her out, and his heart skipped a beat when she said okay.

She wanted to go to a club. He wasn't sure if you could call it their first date; is it a date when she brings along three of her girlfriends? They'd all danced, both together and with him, and at the end of the night he'd paid for everything, including all of their drinks and the taxis that took the four of them home.

They went out three more times after that, always to a club, always with her friends. Craig hadn't objected; it was better than sitting home alone. But he wanted to spend time with Kelsey somewhere where they wouldn't be surrounded by pulsing lights and a pounding beat he didn't recognize, somewhere where they wouldn't be surrounded by a throng of her friends.

So he drove her home one night, just the two of them, and told her the way he felt. And he thought she felt the same way. At least, that was the assumption he made while they were parked in the alley behind her parents' house, sitting in his car as she gave him a handjob in the dark.

Valentine's Day was a week later. He ordered a dozen red roses and made a reservation for two. And then he invited her with a text -- she said only old people phoned -- but never received a reply. When he went by the restaurant they told him she wasn't there. She'd had the week booked off for months.

He found her on Facebook in a photo tagged Cancún. She was dressed in a tiny white bikini and had a grin from ear to ear as the sun set behind her. Who wouldn't be happy enjoying a romantic Valentine's Day dinner on the beach with their fiancé?

Craig never went back to the restaurant, never answered the texts she sent after she returned. And now he was alone, and as he stared at the dead roses and the unopened box of chocolates beside them he wondered why he hadn't thrown them away.

More than two weeks had passed since Valentine's Day. Tomorrow, February would be gone and so, he hoped, would be the bitter memories of Kelsey.

He shoved the vase full of flowers and the foil-wrapped box into a small, white garbage bag, sweeping the loose petals strewn across the tabletop in after them.

He knew his sister was right. He'd known it every time he'd followed Kelsey and her friends inside that club. He was done with the young ones. And as he headed to take the trash out he did the math in his head and wondered where he might meet a twenty-two-year-old.

He reached for the doorknob and a soft knock from the other side surprised him. His sister had said it was already past eight where she was, and he was three hours ahead of her. Who could be at his door this late? His heart skipped a beat as the answer whispered inside his head -- Kelsey.

He opened the door and blinked in surprise. Standing on the other side, barefoot, was a teenage girl with pale green eyes and tousled auburn hair that tumbled down past her shoulders. He'd never seen her before in his life.

"Hi...can I help you?" he asked.

She gave her lower lip a tiny chew, obviously nervous as she twisted the hem of her long-sleeved tee back and forth with her hands. "Yeah...umm...my name's Beth. You're Craig, right?"

"Yeah, do I know you?"

"No, but you know Liz, right?"

"Who?"

"My aunt, she lives across the hall."

She gestured back over her shoulder and for the first time Craig realized the door opposite his was wide open, warm light pouring out from within.

"Oh, yeah...sure." He was too embarrassed to admit that, though he'd lived there for more than three months, he didn't even know his neighbor's name. "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just...uh...I'm just staying with her for a few days and she's out so I'm, like, all alone. And I was just wondering if -- I mean, I know it's late and all -- but I was just wondering...do you want to come over and have a drink?"

The unexpected invitation caught him off-guard, and Craig couldn't help laughing. "A drink?! You've got to be kidding. Aren't you a little young?"

"No, not at all," she said, sweeping her hair back behind her shoulders as if trying to appear older. "I mean, it's just wine."

For the first time, he noticed the sour smell of it on her breath. And as he looked into her eyes, and saw how she stared back at him just a little unsteadily, it was obvious she'd already had more than one glass.

"Come on," he said, "tell me the truth. How old are you?"

"I'm, uh, I'm eighteen," she said, crossing her arms as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. "And my aunt really is out all night. So what do you say, do you want to come over?"

He stared at her, still not completely convinced she was telling him the truth. She was young -- really young.

"Eighteen?" he asked, still skeptical.

"Uh huh," she said, as she twisted the hem of her shirt again. "It's actually my birthday today. That's kind of why I came over. It didn't feel right spending it all alone and my aunt said you...umm...you seemed like a nice guy."

Craig leaned to his right, looking over her shoulder, and for the first time noticed the cake on the dining room table, a single candle burning.

And as Beth smiled invitingly, he tried not to notice the way her tight yoga pants hugged the soft curves of her thighs, or the way her breasts strained against the fabric of her long-sleeved tee as she pulled it tight, twisting the hem back and forth as she waited for his answer.

He ran his fingers through his hair, honestly hoping he was misreading the situation; maybe she was just hoping to celebrate her birthday with a glass of wine. But every instinct told him to turn around, told him she was too young. His sister's voice echoed inside his head, repeating the rule over and over, but he didn't need to do the math.

"Eighteen?" he said again, hoping he'd misheard her the first time, desperately wishing she was twenty-two.

"Uh huh, eighteen," she answered, flashing her eyes as she gave him a mischievous grin. "And I've got cake. So, what do you say?"

Craig took a deep breath; nineteen had been trouble, he didn't even want to think about eighteen. But he couldn't help himself as he reached into the bag, pulled the unopened box of chocolates out and held it toward her.

"I say...happy birthday!"

* * *

Beth opened a bottle of wine, letting it breathe as she grabbed a second glass from the cupboard. In the living room, Craig checked out her aunt's apartment. It was the same size and layout as his, but that was where the similarities ended.

The lighting, along with a collection of framed photos and art adorning the wall, gave the space an intimacy that his sparsely decorated apartment sorely lacked. And the tasteful assortment of furniture that filled the place, instead of making it feel cluttered, made it feel like home.

He wandered over to a small bookcase and spotted an old photo album sitting on top. He was just picking it up when Beth appeared beside him, handing him a glass of wine as she took the book away.

"Don't bother with that," she said, as she hid the album out of sight on the bottom shelf. "This place is already boring enough. We don't want to waste our time looking at a bunch of old photos of people you don't even know."

"I wouldn't call this place boring," he said. "Your aunt has some great stuff. I mean, look at this thing, I haven't seen one of these since I was a kid."

He ran his fingers along the edge of an old turntable from the seventies, sitting on a stereo cabinet above the rest of the sound system. "Does it work?"

"Yeah, of course," Beth said. "Do you want me to put a record on?"

"Sure."

As she knelt down and started to flip through a stack of vinyl stored on its side in a small wooden crate beside the cabinet, Craig wandered over to the dining room table.

He stared at the plain, round chocolate cake, with no decoration other than a plain pink birthday candle in the center. The candle was already more than half burned down.

"You better make a wish before this thing goes out," he said.

Beth looked up in alarm, realizing for the first time where he was standing. "Get away from there!" she cried out, jumping to her feet as she grabbed his hand and pulled him back from the table.

He blinked at her in surprise. "Whoa! What's wrong?"

She held her breath, watching the cake as the candle's flame fluttered for a moment, about to go out. When it didn't, she exhaled. "Nothing's wrong. I -- I just don't want to blow it out yet. Not until I get my birthday wish."

Craig shook his head and laughed. "Holy shit, the way you grabbed me I thought the cake was about to explode. But I think you've got it backwards, you blow the candle out first and then you get your wish."

"That's not the way it works in my family," she said, as she pulled him back toward the couch and handed him his wine. "Drink up."

He took a sip and tried not to stare at her perfect little butt as she bent over, still searching for a record to play. "So, what is your birthday wish?"

She glanced back and blushed when she caught him staring at her ass. "I can't tell you. That's bad luck."

But as her eyes drifted down and grazed across his crotch, Craig thought he had a pretty good idea of what she was hoping for.

He took a deeper drink of his wine, watching as she pulled a record out of its sleeve and put it on the turntable. He'd spotted an empty bottle beside the counter when he'd come in and he knew, if she wasn't already drunk, she was at least halfway there. And he knew if this was going where he thought it was he needed to catch up fast.

He took another drink, trying to ignore his sister's voice as her whispered warnings crept back inside his thoughts. But then Beth dropped the needle, and the music and wine washed his apprehensions away.

The first few notes floated out of the speakers, and then the unmistakable voice of Karen Carpenter filled the room as she sang Yesterday Once More.

"Wow," Craig said, smiling, "this sure brings back memories. I haven't heard this in eons."

"I'm surprised you even know it," she said. "Aren't the Carpenters a little before your time?"

He laughed. "My time? I'm amazed you even know how to turn a record player on. I can just see you sitting with your iPod, buds in your ears, rocking to Iggy Azalea."

"Who?"

They both laughed and settled back together on the couch, sipping the soft, mellow carménère as they savored the sweet, clear sounds spinning off the turntable.

"When I hear her voice it reminds me of Saturday afternoons," Beth said, "because that was the day my mom always cleaned the house from top to bottom and she always played the Carpenters when she cleaned. God, I can still smell that lemon Pledge. She loved Karen Carpenter's voice."

"Who wouldn't?" Craig said. "It's timeless."

Beth took his glass and set it down next to hers on the coffee table. "Dance with me."

"To this?!" he said, as the needle traced out the first few grooves of Touch Me When We're Dancing.

"Sure, why not?"

"It's just...umm...kind of slow. Are you sure you don't want to put on something a little faster?"

"I'm positive," she said, as she pulled him to his feet. "It's my birthday so I get to pick the song. Let's dance."

Craig took her hand, placing his other hand on her hip like they were back in high school.

"Not like that," she said with a laugh. "Like this."

She stepped into him, wrapping her hands around his waist as she pressed her body against his. He slid his arms behind her, holding her near as they swayed back and forth to the beat, as close together as two pieces in a puzzle.

Beth rested her head against his shoulder and whispered, "Much better."

"Uh huh," Craig answered. He tried not to think about the heavenly feel of her tight, teenage body or the intoxicating aroma of her hair. But it wasn't working and he swore inside as he felt himself start to stiffen.

If she noticed the thick length pressed against her, and he didn't see how she couldn't, she made no sign. But he couldn't help noticing how any time he tried to create even an inch of space between them she immediately hugged herself back against him, keeping as close as possible.

He let his hands slide lower until they were resting on the small of her back, his fingertips just brushing against the curve of her ass, and she sighed against his chest as they rocked back and forth to the music.

And then her own hand drifted down to his hip, lingering for only a moment before she slid it lower, stroking his thigh as she inched closer and closer to the stiff, swollen length trapped between them.

Unable to resist the temptation, he slid his hands even lower, cupping her firm ass and squeezing it. Her response was instant as she swiveled her hips, grinding her body against him. Their eyes met, and when he saw the want that filled hers he leaned close. So close that their lips were nearly touching.

And then the music stopped: the sudden silence jarring as the needle skipped at the end of the record. Craig took a step back and Beth hurried to flip the record over.

But the spell had been broken and as he adjusted himself, trying to hide his obvious erection, he heard his sister's voice: She's only eighteen!

Beth dropped the needle and spun around, her eyes flashing with excitement. She blinked in surprise when she saw he'd sat back down. "What are you doing? Let's keep dancing."

He shook his head. "That was nice, but I think I need a break...and I definitely need more wine. It's getting pretty hot in here."

"Okay," she said, and sat down close beside him. Too close.

He shifted to his right, away from her, hoping she wouldn't notice the hard-on he was trying to hide. "Maybe we should have some cake now?"

She glanced at the candle, now three quarters burned. "Not yet." She took a sip from her wine glass, put it back down and went to move closer to him.

"Beth," he said, holding out his hand to stop her.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just...I'm not sure this is right."

"Why? Have you got a girlfriend?"

An image of Kelsey smiling in a white bikini flashed through his thoughts. "No, but -- "

"Then what's wrong? You're a boy and I'm a girl -- nothing could be more right."

She moved a little closer and he leaned away. "Beth, you're making this really hard, and...I think you've had too much wine."

"Don't worry about that. I'm a big girl. I know what I'm doing."

"But that's not the only thing. You're barely eighteen, and I'm --"

"You're what?"

"Beth...I'm twenty-nine."

She laughed. "You say that like you're ancient."

"Compared to you, I am. I mean, the year I was graduating you were literally just getting out of kindergarten."

She smiled and shook her head. "Craig, believe me, your age doesn't bother me at all."

He swallowed hard. "I know it sounds stupid, but there's this rule that says you shouldn't get involved with anyone younger than half your age plus seven. According to the rule, you're too young for me."

"Do I seem too young?" she said, as she moved a little closer. "I think we should both agree to forget the rule, even if it's just for one night. It is my birthday after all."

He tried to respond, tried to come up with an argument, but all he could think about was those pale green eyes and those soft full lips. A lock of her auburn hair tumbled loose and he went to tuck it back behind her ear, and that brief touch was the spark that ignited the space between them.

Beth fell into him, and as she crushed her lips against his Craig knew he couldn't resist her any longer. He ran one hand through her hair as his other hand slid beneath her top, caressing her soft skin as he pulled her tight against his body.

She kissed him hard, their tongues locked together. Her hand slid down to his thigh, seeking the thick length that had pressed against her so insistently when they were slow dancing, and when she found it she squeezed it and moaned into his mouth.