This story follows the events underway in the still unfinished novel Iron Behind the Velvet, however, you do not need to have read that story or any others on this site. This one stands on its own, simply the account of an evening in for Vincent and Catherine.
It is, perhaps, not safe for work, although there are no steamy illustrations (yet). :-)
My thanks to e e cummings for his literary example of the use of parentheses, and to Pablo Neruda for the paraphrase of the subtitle. If you haven't, you should read his Ode. It's wonderful.
That Which We Call a Rose
He took her hand, brought it to his lips. Blessed. He was so perfectly blessed. “For now, Catherine. For now.”