On his way home Paul stops at Trader Joe’s to pick up a bottle of wine, a red called Gypsy that both he and Florence like, and he happens to notice they have candles. He remembers Florence told him when they were here last week that most of the time they seem to be out of candles, and she liked the kind they have when they have them, so Paul buys a package, green candles to go with the wallpaper in her bedroom, their bedroom.

The cute cashier has smiling eyes. “Looks like you’re going to have a nice celebration,” she says, and she rings the bell. They smile at each other as they wait for the man to come over and ring up the wine. It is only now Paul notices the cashier is wearing a bright green tie. He blushes.

“How sweet,” Florence says at home. “Is there a special occasion?”

“Yes,” Paul says, “we’ve been together 31 days.”

Her face registers some surprise. “Is that right?” She grins.

“More or less,” he says, “but I hope it’s going to be a lot more. I hope it’s going to be forever.”

“You’re so sweet,” Florence says, hugging him. “But I don’t have anything for you.”

“That’s okay,” Paul says, and they hug again.

“I know,” Florence says, her voice bright and cheery with enthusiasm, “I can suck your cock. I’ve been thinking of doing that all afternoon, and you can watch in the mirror with the new candles, the cock-sucking candles, burning.”

“Right now?” Paul says.

“Yes, right now. Don’t you want to?”

“I do. I do a lot.”

“Good. Then you get undressed while I find the candle holders, and meet me in the bedroom.”

That’s what Paul does. He’s naked when Florence comes in with the candles and candle holders. He has an erection.

“Oooh,” Florence says, admiring it with her voice and her eyes. “Here, you screw in the candles while I get a match.”

When she’s back again he has the candles unwrapped and in the candle holders. She strikes the match and lights the candles. She peels off her skirt, then she pushes Paul a few feet back into the bedroom and kneels in front of him. “Can you see okay?” she asks.

“Uh huh,” he answers.

“Good,” she says, and she takes his cock in his mouth.

Paul watches in the mirror while she sucks him. The cellophane from the candles is still in his fist, and it make a light, crinkly sound. He lets the cellophane fall to the floor so he can caress Florence’s hair while she sucks him. Sometimes Florence makes humming noises and sometimes she uses her hands as well as her lips and tongue. She looks up at him while she sucks juicily, her eyes wide and lewd. He remembers the pretty eyes of the cashier. He comes. The pleasure is so intense, it takes him a while to recover. He realizes he wasn’t watching in the mirror for the last part. His eyes might have been closed, for all he knows. He has an idle thought that maybe they should make a movie of it. If they put the camera on her vanity, right where the candles are ... But right now he’s hugging Florence, swaying slowly with her. “That was so good,” he tells her.

“Mmm,” she says. Her eyes, lit by the candles, are sparkling with mischief. He can tell from her expression that she still has his cum in her mouth. She swallows. One big swallow and several smaller ones. Her eyes are grinning in the candlelight. Some of the cum has seeped out of the corner of her mouth. She wipes it up with her finger and sucks her finger. “Mmm,” she says again, “Almost but not quite dripless.” They hug again and then they kiss. Then she kneels again and takes him in her mouth again and sucks him, and in a couple of minutes he’s stiff. She lies back on the bed. Her arms and legs go around him. He is in her, having penetrated in one smooth stroke, and he is fucking her, long slow strokes, and then hard fast, and then long slow again. She comes easily and often. The fuck lasts a long time. He is thinking about the cashier only some of the time. He pictures her wearing that bright green tie and nothing else. Toward the end of the fuck, he can tell the candles are flickering, the shadows dancing on Florence’s face. “You’re so beautiful,” he says. “Come in me now,” Florence tells him. He comes in her, deep and full. When at last they get up from the bed, the candles have almost but not quite burned out. “Poor little things,” she says, and she blows them both out in one breath.