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This is my entry in the Literotica 2019 Valentine’s Day contest. I encourage readers to take a moment to rate this story when they are finished reading.
I wrote this pure fantasy tale with fictitious locations for sexual activities between imagined characters. Any names or similarities to real people in my story are purely coincidental. All characters are over eighteen.
I wish to acknowledge that the efforts of my husband were crucial in providing the male perspective. His usual editing expertise improved the grammar and mechanics of my wording.
Lucky Valentine – An older man gets lucky with a young woman.
On a stormy night, Beau rescues a young woman and provides shelter. She rewards him with vibrant sex he hasn’t known before.
This is not my typical long, seduction-in-stages story. Everything happens in one night; my characters have sex just an hour after reconnecting their acquaintance following a six-year separation. That doesn’t mean I sacrificed plot and character development to brevity; the sex doesn’t start on the first page.
© SandraMustard 2019
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It was a terrible night for anyone to be out. Rapidly falling temperatures with blustery winds had dominated the weather all day. As night came, freezing rain started falling making driving treacherous and ice-laden trees soon disrupted power transmission to whole communities. This area of Georgia can suffer disruptive weather events from many fronts; ice storms, hurricanes, and tornados. This mid-February storm was a bad one.
As the store manager for a prominent grocery chain, I needed to balance the emergency supply needs of our customer base and the safety of my associates. Early shoppers were heeding storm predictions with practiced preparations, stocking up on water, ice, batteries, and food that does not require heating. Many local businesses sent their employees home mid-day, creating a large afternoon surge of customers at my store.
The greater than normal shopper numbers and concentrated product demands required adjustments by my store’s personnel. We instituted our storm operation plan that changes task priorities. Several department managers called in extra help. With a similarly practiced preparation, my store smoothly moved customers and product out the doors.
When the shopper volume started slacking off, I began sending some associates home. The teenage minors were first despite only working a few hours since arriving after school. Associates that had longer distances to travel or feared driving in the worsening conditions followed. While we still had enough workers, we buttoned up the bakery, meat, and produce departments; they had little traffic anyway. The deli manager kept two sandwich makers until the rotisserie and fryer were empty. The pharmacist stayed as long as we remained open to run the pharmacy alone.
By the time the rains came, customer traffic had dwindled to a few desperate stragglers. I was running the front end of the store with one cashier, a department manager running the customer service desk, and two stockers. We were all middle-aged or older men with short distances to travel home so we hung on to be there for the community.
The store lights blinked out when municipal power failed, coming back on immediately as our generator kicked in, leaving only the brief alarm beeps from uninterruptible power sources to signal the outage. Corporate headquarters equips all stores with big generator plants capable of running entire stores including refrigeration for at least 72 hours. Refilling the diesel fuel tank could extend runtime indefinitely. The long-outage plan’s purpose is twofold, to prevent loss of perishables, and to reopen after the storm even if the local area is still without power.
In response to observing the power blip, I stepped out from the money-room to see the store still brightly lit and the cashier scanning a customer’s purchase. Walking over to look out the store’s front doors, I confirmed we were the only lights in the neighborhood. I could hear the wind howling and see it blowing the freezing rain sideways; sleet covered one side of a nearby fire-lane sign. I saw only one car crawling along on the divided highway and decided to close the store as soon as possible.
I turned to see three customers lined up at the single open cashier lane so I made my way to our managers’ register. I called over the last customer in line as I busied myself logging in. By the time I looked at the woman, her back was to me while she unloaded her buggy onto the conveyor. She was wearing a hostess uniform with a calf-length, conservative black skirt but I noticed her legs were without nylons or leggings. A vest with a nametag covered her white blouse, but she didn’t have a coat to shield her from the cold rain. Raindrop circles peppered her blouse sleeves and her blonde hair was obviously damp. She appeared to be quite young, causing me to worry for her experience driving in the storm.
Focused Gaziantep Escortlar on scanning her purchases and putting them in bags, I never really looked up at her face. Even when I scanned the wine bottle in her purchases and asked for her identification, I only looked at her hand to grasp her license. My eyes went straight to the date-of-birth field that told me she was twenty-four. When I held out her license, she didn’t take it back, leaving me to scan her groceries one-handed. After a few seconds, I looked up.
As our eyes met, she finally spoke. “Don’t you remember me, Beau?”
I could never forget Darcy Meadows. She had matured in appearance since I saw her last but her looks were not what left indelible impressions on me in the past. Her face was ordinary by all standards. Plump cheeks and chin rounded her face; brown eyes and dark eyebrows conflicted with her died-blonde hair; blemish-free, her youthful skin looked almost pasty. Small breasted and lacking any eye-catching curves elsewhere, her body never had drawn out sexual thoughts before. Despite all her plainness, something exciting about her presence awakened my long-dormant desire immediately.
She still favored bright red lipstick; with her whitish skin, the effect was a stunning geisha-like contrast. Tipping her right hip up, she placed her hand at her waist and gave me a pouty facial expression. Closing her eyes, she slowly stuck out her tongue at me. Opening her eyes to see my reaction, she caught me staring at her tongue until it disappeared behind an impish grin. I knew she was performing, this time in a peevish-tart persona.
I learned years ago that Darcy was a talented actress. She could entertain people with character improvisations. I have personally seen her speak as a bookish nerd, a drippy-sweet southern belle, and a fast-talking, gum-smacking, valley girl. Her talents impressed me back then, especially exhibited by someone still in high school. She was heavily involved in school plays and amateur theater. Reportedly, she had a decent singing voice. Her plans for a career in show business were eminent when I last saw her.
Darcy started as a part-time summer hire at a store in Florida where I was a few years into being the assistant store manager. My management style included developing personable connections with all workers so I learned firsthand about her personality early on. She worked with us for a little over two years until she left for college.
Friendly and vivacious, she eagerly hugged people she liked. After hugging me once, I had to advise her to avoid hugging managers or supervisors at any time, and warned her to avoid displays of affection with her peers in front of customers. She was intelligent and mature for her age, understanding my advice was direction about social propriety in the workplace and not criticism of her nature. Darcy broke the no-hugging rule one other time in her last summer of work at the store when she expressed her tearful condolences after I lost my wife to breast cancer.
Darcy had a habit of sticking out her tongue at people, too. To be fair, sticking out a tongue appeared to be a greeting behavior many minors from her Florida high school practiced to some degree. She did it to me a few times until I told her, “In my teenage years, sticking out your tongue was an invitation to be kissed. Whatever it means to you, I think you should not do that to me.” She stopped sticking out her tongue back then, at least to me. Tonight, she appeared to reprise the action deliberately.
Instead of being concerned about superior / subordinate propriety, my thoughts wondered if she was teasing me or signaling me that she wanted me to kiss her. Her crimson lips parted again to show her tongue that seemed to beckon me. Did I dare accept such an invitation?
Despite my thoughts, I managed to respond to her in a business-like manner. “Of course, I remember you, Miss Darcy.” Habitually, I had addressed her in the customary store employee manner even though she had not addressed me in kind as ‘Mr. Beau’ or even ‘Mr. Simon.’
She looked bemused and slowly shook her head. Slipping into her southern belle character, she mildly complained. “Y’all always maintained proper decorum, bless your heart. But sweetie, I’m an adult now and since I don’t work here, I wish you’d address me less formally.”
I paused to look squarely into her brown eyes. Her eyebrows lifted expectantly. Caught off-guard by her flirtatious demeanor and still concerned about appearances, I responded flatly, “Of course, Darcy.”
Her facial expression went blank and her shoulders drooped in apparent disappointment. She turned and began to rummage in her purse. As if suddenly struck by a thought, she looked up at me again. “Forgive me if I’ve been insensitive. Are you still mourning Jill’s passing?”
“Girl, you are anything but insensitive. Jill was the best part of my life for a long time and I will remember her forever but I have moved on with my life in recent years. This weather situation has me stressed out, but I should apologize to you for acting so businesslike. You deserve a warmer reception from me. In fact, you can even hug me, Darcy.”
She yipped with sudden excitement and moved toward the end of the register. I came around from my side to meet her with open arms. I noticed several things immediately. First, my arms discovered the back of her clothing was wetter than I imagined based on visual evidence. Despite being indoors for some length of time while shopping, her cheek pressing against mine was still noticeably cold. Lastly, her hug was more intense than the embraces I observed her sharing with her school friends.
More than just putting her arms around me, her whole body pressed against me; her chest pushed firmly against mine; and her hips and thighs were making contact with me. Although I felt a twinge of arousal, I don’t think she intended her hug to be sexual, but it certainly demonstrated an adult level of affection she had toward me.
Her arms held me tight and the hug lasted for several seconds. The sensuality of our body contact surprised me and I could not help enjoying the feeling of holding her in my arms. Not wanting the hug to end, I waited for her to pull away first. When she did, I murmured into her ear, “It’s nice to see you again, Darcy,” and pecked her cheek lightly with my lips.
As her arms released me, one hand rose to touch her cheek where I had kissed her. She studied me a moment with her mouth open in an expression of surprise. Finally, she asked, “Does that mean I can kiss you now, too?”
I couldn’t deny the chance of kissing her was a delightful prospect to me. Sticking out her tongue and asking permission suggested kissing me was on her mind too. After discovering the way her friendly hugging habit had morphed into an intimate embrace, I expected a kiss from her would be passionate. My position at the store precluded such an exchange with her as a customer while I was working. I had every intention to respond favorably to her come-on when I could, but I didn’t want to give her undue encouragement that might make her act impulsively in the wrong situation. Instead, I gave her a veiled promise by responding, “Not here.”
She nodded and backed away, speaking wistfully to herself. “There you go, girl. You have something to look forward to now.” While waiting for her credit card in the reader to be processed, she took a moment to write her cellphone number on the back of her business card. Handing the card to me, she added with an exaggerated wink, “So we can meet elsewhere.” She seemed to react to the innuendo of her own statement, putting her palm on her chest and patting herself briefly. “Whew! Be still my heart.”
My heart was pounding, too. Admittedly, I was considering pursuing a relationship with a woman less than half my age, something very much out of my conservative norms. Was I experiencing a revived sex drive triggered by the prospects of having a youthful partner? Was she a gold-digger out to take advantage of my financial stability or my loneliness? Or, were we just two adults enjoying common physical attraction? Time would tell but I intended to pursue reawakened desires with boldness.
When we finished processing her purchase, I escorted her to the door. Wind that drove the rain horizontal under the vapor lights made the cold penetrate my clothing as I stepped outside. The conditions for her in damp clothing were worse so I suggested she leave her buggy with me while she brought her car under our entrance awning where I could load her car with some protection from the elements.
Watching her trying to walk on the slippery asphalt in her business footwear confirmed that roadways would be dangerous already. After reaching her car, she managed to edge it slipping and sliding to a halt in front of the store. I had her remain in the car while I placed her bags in the back seat. She mentioned her apartment was only a few miles away so I admonished her to drive as slow as she needed to get there safely. I watched with concern as her car struggled to climb the very slight incline out of the parking lot onto the highway.
Once she was out of sight, I spun into action. I made an announcement on the paging system that the store was closing, as much for my associates as the two remaining customers still gathering supplies. After the customers left, the stockers did minimal cleaning and trash removal while I collected the last register tills. Because I had to count the tills and secure money in the safe, I was the last to leave the store nearly thirty minutes after watching Darcy drive away.
The icy parking lot surface challenged even my slip-resistant shoes to get traction. Because I spent several minutes scraping the ice buildup from the car windows, the raw conditions left my hands and cheeks stinging. After warming up for a minute or two, I began my commute home. Even with all-wheel drive in my SUV, my vehicle could not climb the exit incline until I backed up to take a run at it.
Observing several abandoned vehicles in ditches along the highway, I was relieved to note that none of them matched Darcy’s car. Following my customary route, a mile down the divided highway, I turned down a two-lane road. In the utter darkness, I could not see ice on the road surface but I could tell it was there. Driving under twenty miles-per-hour, my vehicle occasionally spun its wheels going up minor hills and slipped sideways. Topping a rise, I saw trouble at the bottom of a long hill. Hazard lights flashed from a car out of direct sight among bushes down an embankment; a person was standing at the edge of the road.
When I simply lifted my foot off the gas pedal, my SUV started sliding, facing at an angle to its direction of travel. Afraid I would endure the same fate as the other driver, I desperately tried to regain control without sudden corrections, compounded by the sense that my vehicle was accelerating down the slope. When my right-front wheel rolled onto gravel next to the pavement edge, I was able to regain steering control and slow down with both right side wheels kept off the pavement.
Still one hundred yards from the other driver standing there trying to flag me down, I suddenly recognized from her clothing that it was Darcy. When I came close and my headlights illuminated her fully, I saw mud covering her clothes and her wet hair plastered to her face. After I stopped, she approached my vehicle gingerly stepping on the icy grass, trying not to slip down the embankment.
I had to get her out of the icy rain; my leather upholstery would be impervious to her wet and muddy clothes. When she reached my passenger door, I pushed it open from the inside. “Get in,” I commanded tersely.
Climbing in quickly, Darcy started to speak before recognizing me in the illuminated interior. “Thank you for s-st… Beau! Thank God you c-came along. I thought I was going to f-freeze to death.”
She was shivering uncontrollably and whimpering from distress, chattering teeth making it difficult for her to speak. I turned the heater fan on high and adjusted the dash vents to blow directly at her. Removing my insulated ski jacket, I gave it to her to use as a blanket.
From a brief conversation, I learned what steps she had taken to affect rescue. When she called 911, the dispatcher assessed her situation as non-critical because she wasn’t injured nor was she in danger from exposure because she had shelter in her running car with ample gas in the tank. Because both local and county police units were swamped with calls and were experiencing difficulties getting around, the dispatcher advised her to wait in her car. Darcy also called her insurance company to use emergency roadside assistance on her policy. Similarly, the agent advised her that the possibility of a tow responding anytime soon was unlikely.
She had stepped out of her car briefly to assess damage to her car. The excursion caused her clothes to become wetter. Despite her car heater, she was chilled and uncomfortable, causing her to doubt that she could endure hours of waiting. She tried to move her car herself but discovered she had no traction in the wet mud and vegetation, and risked sliding further down into a creek, just yards away.
Seeing the headlight glow but not the headlights of a passing car going in the opposite direction, she honked her horn hoping to get their attention but the car did not stop. Because of this incident, she figured the police or tow truck looking for her might go right by. She decided she needed to stand at the side of the road, improving the chances of any passing motorist assisting her as well. She fell twice trying to climb the embankment before she moved laterally to an area of bushes and saplings she could use to pull herself up. Fifteen minutes later, I was the first vehicle to come upon her.
At my recommendation, she called 911 again to report I was there to give her a ride so they could take her off their rescue list. Next, I suggested that even if a tow truck arrived that night, they wouldn’t have enough traction to pull her car up the embankment. With that logic, I prevailed upon her to cancel the assistance request until she could arrange the tow when conditions were favorable after the storm.
Her car didn’t need its hazard flashers operating so far off the road and they might drain her battery dead by morning. Rather than have her go out in the cold again, chivalry compelled me to take her keys and my jacket so I could make the necessary visit to her car. I also grabbed a flashlight from my glove compartment.
When I took my first step on the sloping ground, I fell flat on my back and slid like a human toboggan into a puddle at the bottom of the embankment. Now my pants and inside my jacket were soaked too. Besides shutting off her hazard flashers, I decided to retrieve her shopping purchases. Carrying four plastic bags and the flashlight complicated my climb back up the embankment.
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