Gwyneth Miller left the Daylight Candle Shop clutching her purchase to her chest as if it were a lifesaver, taking it back to her one bedroom apartment where she'd lived alone for the past year. After finding her boyfriend in her bed with another woman for the third time, she'd kicked him out and sworn off dating in the face of her obvious attraction to pretty-boy losers and scum. She'd read enough romance novels in the meantime to know that her prince charming was nowhere in sight and most likely never ever coming.
She'd overheard a junior college co-ed whispering loudly to her friend in the stacks of the public library where Gwyn worked. They'd been talking about the candle shop and its mystic, big city transplant owner, who had a candle to cure everything, even a yearlong dry spell. As she often did, Gwyn reminded herself that her father would turn over in his grave if he could see her now.
One of his final battles as the former sheriff of Specter had been to get rid of the specters that wanted to make his town their home. But old Southern specters brought with them old Southern money and that had been the one thing the town had limped by without since the shutdown of the mills and factories that had employed a majority of the town until the late nineteen-nineties.
Everyone in town knew about the candle shop and its strong ties with the specter world; most locals stayed away from it. It was the out-of-towners who would drive in for a cure for whatever ailed them and go back to whence they came with their anonymity in check. Soon after the specters had moved in they'd funded a junior college that got most of the local opposition to step back. The college had brought in young people with Pell Grants, federal funding, scholarships, and trust funds that had literally brought the new specter haven back to life.
Gwyneth had gotten a scholarship to attend the college but her father, the Sheriff, hadn't been happy about that at all. Not seeing a need to go to college anywhere else, Gwyneth had defied him for the first time in her life and moved into an apartment downtown, working part-time at the library while attending the college. Her father didn't speak to her for the first year but resolved to meet her in town for an occasional lunch. They had managed to completely bury the hatchet after she graduated, but he'd passed away a little more than two years later, leaving her completely alone for the past six months.
After overhearing the enlightened co-ed, Gwyneth had searched the Internet for more information on the Daylight Candle Shop. If she was going to further betray her father in order to relieve her yearlong angst, she wanted to spend as little time in the shop as possible. A page of happy testimonials a mile long was attached to the Daylight Candle Shop's website, with pictures of a wildly sexy black woman named Mackenzie Knox, who had rich dark skin and tantalizing curves.
Gwyneth felt a sting of jealousy as she thought about her stick figure and nearly too pale skin. If it hadn't been for her dark hair and eyes she would have been completely unnoticeable.
She searched the website and her heart leapt into her chest when she scrolled over a thick purple candle with the name Dry Spell Reliever. She read the promise that if a person were experiencing a painfully long dry spell the candle was sure to relieve the physical needs of the one who lit it.
She knew the location of the shop; just off of the town's historical square between Pearl's Café and The Hardware Store. She drove straight to the shop after work on Saturday, her half day. Happy that the shop was completely empty, Gwyn made a beeline to the beautiful Mackenzie Knox behind the counter whose Internet picture had not done her any justice. Her black hair was pulled back into a neat bun and she wore a black body suit with an unbuttoned, bright green sleeveless shirt. Gwyn placed the printout copy of the candle she wanted on the counter.
Mackenzie quickly retrieved one and rang it up, placing it in a precious white box with an instruction card and special matches.
When Gwyn got back to her apartment, she immediately kicked off her flats, pulled her glasses from her dark brown eyes, and shook her dark-brown hair free from its ponytail. Placing the candle next to her bed, its thick phallic shape made her bite her lower lip in foolish anticipation. She set the matches next to it and went to shower and change into a sexy teddy she hadn't worn since God knows when. The instructions were simple: light the candle, say the prayer, and blow it out. She was to lie down and fall asleep, and when she awakened, her dry spell would be over. Striking the match, Gwyn lit the candle and pulled the paper with its prayer closer to her nearsighted eyes.
"May love's embrace meet me at dawn's face," she read. She took a deep breath and blew the candle out before climbing into bed under the covers. It took what felt like hours for her to fall into a peacefully dreamless sleep.
Gwyn awoke to the feeling of a kiss; when she opened her eyes, no one was there. She felt the kiss again and it frightened her. Then hands were on her legs, roaming up her thighs. Her first impulse was to scream but the sensation that ran throughout her body made her gasp instead. She turned her head and, looking at the candle, smiled in near relief. She hadn't known what to expect but she liked it.
Gwyn relaxed as hands began touching her all over, all at once. She knew then that it was a specter and had to force the disapproving image of her father's face from her mind as she relaxed beneath the invisible touch. At that moment she could not think of a single rational argument against the inclusion of specters into their community.
She remembered when they had gradually started appearing in the world of the living; she had still been in high school. Many people, like her father, were fighting to get them expunged, or exorcised, or whatever could be done to phantoms and ghosts that didn't seem interested in crossing over.
Gwyneth didn't let her mind dwell on the details as the hands worked their way over her, giving attention to every inch of her body. She allowed herself to moan with pleasure as hands became lips and the weight of the specter steadily increased until it felt as if she were in the arms of a living man. She was amazed at how gentle and smooth the specter's touch was. Over the next three hours, she was filled with more pleasure than she could ever remember feeling before.
The specter took his time, giving her the experience of full pleasure and release. Gwyneth turned over, fully satisfied, as the dawn began to break. She fell back into a blissful sleep, feeling only the slightest twinge of guilt as the specter left her alone.
It seemed as if she'd just dozed off when she was disturbed by a change in the air, making it cool, dry, and a little too thick to breathe. As she tried to inhale, Gwyn felt a pair of electric hot hands wrap around her neck. Her eyes opened wide as she grasped her throat to peel the choking hands away but felt nothing there. The hands of the intruding presence went through her flesh and directly to her windpipe. Desperate, she squeezed out a final gurgle as her esophagus was completely crushed, killing her.
The presence faded away as quickly as it had come.