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."
