It had been a frantically busy day. This close to Christmas, with the dark evenings settling over the town so early, a candle shop could hardly fail to be popular.
This last Saturday before Christmas had been crazy, and Eva had been rushed off her feet all day with the constant stream of last minute purchases for family and friends.
More for security than any other reason, the shop needed the electrical lights on; but she did try to minimise this and the flickering light and warmth from the various wares that had been so in demand cast a cosy and intimate pall over the interior.
She walked around from the small counter in the left-hand corner, just large enough to hold the cash register, card machine and space for the – God knows how much – wrapping paper. In the centre of the shop was an island stacked with scented and varied candles, and around the edges of the room; each wall; were low shelves stacked and displaying further stocks of different candles.
It was small – intimate – but even with the variety of different candles nowadays, Eva had to admit there was a limit to how many you needed to offer.
She had just made it to the door, ready to reverse the ‘Open’ sign to signal she was ‘Closed’ for the day, when a last-minute customer came to a halt on the step in front of it. The youngish man – probably in his thirties – stood with a hood over his head, sheltering in the small porch from the wintery sleet.
Eva cursed beneath her breath. She’d sold more than enough for the day and frankly wanted to go home. Not wrap yet another awkwardly shaped package for someone.
Sighing, she let the sign go and stepped back to allow him to enter the shop.
He came inside and the door swung to a close with a creaky thud from the relatively ancient wooden frame, and a tinkle from the traditional bell. His hooded jacket, a waterproof parka affair, was sodden and he pushed the hood back.
Eva took a double take – it wasn’t him, was it? Surely not him? In this small town in the middle of nowhere… But then it had to be. There was no mistaking that chiselled jaw and the piercing blue eyes of the famous TV star.
Flustered, she welcomed him to the shop. “You’re just in time; another few seconds and I’d have had the door locked,” she said, jokingly and with a slight laugh that betrayed her nervousness.
It really was him; she felt the blush rise and her stomach churn with the realisation. The steamy drama was the talk of the country the last few months, with the climactic episode scheduled for broadcast on Christmas Day.
She had first watched an episode after her girlfriends had mentioned it to her; it had gripped her instantly, despite the awkwardness of the explicit sex scenes between Gene and the conveyor belt of his love interests, which she had watched with her husband in the evenings, children safely in bed.
More than once they had been inspired by the antics on the screen to get naughty that night; she’d done a few things with her husband, thinking of what it would be like if the star, Gene, was the one doing them with her…
And here he was.
“Well thank you for allowing me in; especially with the weather outside – it really is nice to be somewhere warm,” he replied. “I was looking for something for my partner – just a small gift. A stocking filler really…”
She smiled at his cheeky grin as he said “stocking filler”, though inwardly she was cursing his “partner” already. God, he was attractive. And that honeyed voice…
“Something a little different, perhaps?” She offered.
Again, that cheeky grin, a half-raised lip to one side and a glint in the eye. “I’m always interested in something different.”
She bet he was. The wet sleet was steaming off his jacket now, the warmth of the little shop, aided as it was by the combined flicker of maybe fifteen, twenty candles through each day, was in sharp contrast to the winter chill outdoors.
Biting her lip, and toying with her shoulder length bobbed hair with one hand, she flirted right back. “Exactly how different do you mean?” Well, she thought. Two can play at the being cheeky game. She felt the butterfly churn in her belly already mutating to a fiery glow in her groin; the same pang of deep arousal she felt, watching Gene seduce and make love to those beautiful women on TV.
He had walked around the opposite side of the central island by now, and unzipped his jacket. They could still see each other across the stacked display and the sporadic candles, guttering still from the disturbance to the air the opening and closing door had made.
Immediately he had seen her, he had been attracted; the narrow rectangular glasses perched on the strong but thin, proportionate nose framing grey eyes and turning her delicate, pretty face just the right side of ‘secretarial’ to appeal to him. The rounded but sharp edged bob, with her blonde hair cutting into her neck just above her shoulders, and the sexy cinched in suit jacket over a clingy blue top and a dark skirt.
Now, in the candlelight, just minimally assisted by the artificial lighting in the ceiling, he could see her nibbling at a corner of her mouth with her two pristine white teeth pinching into the red fullness of her lower lip. And it was very, very attractive.
“Well,” he began with a sly half smile. “I’m sure you could find something for me. Something out of the ordinary?”
She bloody could, she thought to herself. Her heart was pounding now, as he stalked around opposite her, catching her eye and she could see he was blatantly eyeing her up. Of course, this wasn’t doing her confidence any harm at all; and she was sure her knickers were very slightly damp now.
“I have just the thing. I’m sure of it. If you’d care to take a look?” She offered back, with a coquettish stroke of her hair and still biting her lip, tilting her face a little to one side in a motion of enticement.
He took the bait and finished his prowl around the island, reaching the counter whilst she stood behind it. There was barely enough room for her and a chair inside it, and she could feel her light denier black nylons rub against each other as she moved her weight from one leg to the other, propping herself onto the counter with one elbow.
He was so close to her now; so close she could see his eyes twinkle, regardless of the candlelight; that mischievous glint that had so plainly won him the part he played on screen was unmistakeable and magnitudes more effective in the flesh.
She held a thick column of dark, almost black wax in her other hand, wider than her fingers could wrap around and about a foot – maybe a little less – long. Three wicks protruded at the conical tip, spaced equilaterally around the apex.
“We-elll…” he offered. He was unsure what to make of this; it was; well, just a candle. Dark, certainly, and fairly hefty. But it was, at bottom, just a candle.
Eva smiled and playfully slid her hand, holding the weighty length, along the smooth wax whilst considering his gorgeous eyes.
It was crude, and obvious, and she felt a flush of girlish regret at making the phallic motion. It passed quickly as she placed it down on the counter; a wide, long, meaty length of pliant dark wax.
“Shall I light it for you?”
“Sounds a good idea,” Gene replied, curious now – and also fully aware, though he kept his response in check, of her sexual flirting.
Taking her jacket off, she hung it over the back of the chair.
She reached down beneath the counter to a shallow shelf, somewhere on which she kept her zippo. She was conscious of the cleavage she was now allowing to show; her pendulous, motherly breasts were suspended in a dark blue lacy topped underwired bra, beneath an almost matching blue thick cotton vertically ribbed long sleeve top. With a deep scoop around the neck, showing anyone rude enough to look closely enough a reasonable percentage of her boobs.
There was no alternative to celebrating internally, her mind now whirring with the possibility that she had genuinely started to interest this man. It was obvious; he couldn’t stop looking at her tits.
Briefly elongating the search beneath the counter, with several wholly unnecessary fumbles into the corners of the shelf to allow her chest to sway gently from one side to the other, the lighter was located and she grabbed it in her hand.
Smiling now, she stood back up and smoothed her top with the other hand, running it over her belly and off to first one hip, and then the other. He was captivated.
With a click that rang in the stillness of the shop, the lighter flared and she touched the long flame to each wick in turn. They caught quickly and she replaced the lighter beneath the counter; this time just reaching down and tossing it carelessly onto the back of the shelf. More confident now she sat back on the chair. It was reasonably elevated so that she could perch upon it, her legs with their shiny nylon tights hidden and rested her chin in her cupped hands. Her elbows on the counter. And looked at him.
The shop was becoming very warm, he felt; and the candle was giving off a wide haze from the guttering flame of each wick. He was sure that he could just discern a faint fog around the candle. That wasn’t right, was it?
And she was sat there, relaxed now, just looking at him. He could still see a very decent amount of milky breast, revealed by her deeply cut out top. Somehow his mind was fogging, in proportion to the candle haze he felt. The surrounding shelves, the stocks and displays were fading into a monochrome background, leaving just… just her, this woman in the shop, illuminated by the candle between them.
She could see him start to sway, and stood up. Behind her was the light switch and she flicked it, reducing the light within the shop to just that provided by the numerous and flickering candles.
He leant forward to the counter, resting himself with one hand, taking a moment to steady himself.
Coming around the counter, to his side within the shop space, Eva approached him slowly and gently by his side.
She whispered in his ear. “Is there something you’d like?”
An extract from ‘Erotic Thoughts’ – click the cover to see more]