Ladder 54: Five Firefighter Romances

by Maren Smith

  Most play nights were so hectic that Sophie couldn’t relax enough to play even if she wanted to. Usually, it wasn’t until the next day that she relaxed enough for Walt to take her by the hand and give her that same much-needed release that other submissives achieved during the parties. Oh, but she loved this group, Tammi Lou notwithstanding. She loved this cabin, and she wouldn’t give up either for anything in the world. Especially not when both were now coming together to help her husband in a way she never would have dreamed necessary.

  She was going to have to say something about that. She was going to have to say something period. Dinner was drawing to a close. Empty plates were being swept from the table back to the kitchen; desserts and coffee were filtering out. She’d stayed up late last night putting together the perfect speech. She’d memorized it, but as spoons scraped that last bite from small china plates and people began shifting in their seats, carrying on the conversation but with growing excitement for what more the evening held in store, she suddenly realized that speech that she’d prepared was grossly inadequate for what she really needed to say. Through this dinner alone, what they’d already raised would never be enough, but that so many people had cared enough to contribute, that meant something more than she could put into words. Still, she was going to have to try.

  Beneath the table, Walt gave her knee a squeeze. When she looked at him, his discreet nod redirected her attention to the door where David was hovering long enough to give her the five minutes mark. The boys on the stage were ready. Time to get the meat of this party started.

  Her heart both leapt and tightened. She’d never done something like this before. She hoped it went well; she couldn’t afford for it not to.

  Conversation dribbled to a hush when Sophie stood up. She would have clasped her nervous hands, except Walt took one and held it in his warm and comforting grip. He centered her. He’d always centered her.

  “I want to thank you all for coming tonight.” She tried to pretend her voice wasn’t trembling as she tried to catch the gaze of every person seated at the tables stretching the length of this great room. “Everyone knows what this is for, so I’m not going to bore you with the details other than to say we have a plan of attack, and we have hope. Every penny of what we raise here tonight will go to covering the costs that a fireman’s insurance simply won’t. Experimental medication, large deductibles, transportation costs, overnight stays at the hotel adjacent to the hospital—these are the things we are going to need help with over the next year. Should we raise more than we require, the extra will be donated to help other families facing these exact same overwhelming costs. To that end, tonight we have two auctions. The silent auction will be held in the basement and it consists of items donated by family and friends. For instance, Lorna Beckett, who has generously donated her time and her studio for a full fantasy photography set that is also kink-friendly. She charges anywhere from $295 to $800 depending on what kind of package you desire, so please keep that in mind when you make your bids. Also in the silent auction is Travis Daily’s offer to completely renovate any room in your houses for free. Now, you’ll need to supply the materials; it’s his labor that you are bidding on tonight. If you want to know the quality of his work, feel free to wander into the cabin’s kitchen. He did that for us two years ago. He was extremely professional and fantastic to work with. We also have a few select items in the silent auction, not the least of which is a 1968 Chevy Camaro from Walt’s own collection. Spank-me red with a black stripe up the hood, it is a hardtop and has been completely restored.”

  At least half the men around the tables were here for that car. She knew it from that wave of fidget-shifting that went through the collective tables as they all strove at once not to show their interest. Walt had fantastic cars and everyone knew it. That Camaro in particular had been his baby for longer than she had.

  “But the silent auction isn’t our only auction here tonight,” Sophie continued. “For those of you who are interested in that, I would have you please follow me.”

  An entire chorus of chairs scooted back from the table as roughly half the women in the room, women not just from the CCC or Big Banks, but who had responded to the flyers she’d sent out and driven in from all over the state, followed her down the hall to the living room. The lights were dimmed low now, and the shadows of the massive stage dominated. From the moment her heels crossed the threshold into that room, a low thumping beat began in the base speakers set up all around the stage. Multicolored lights winked on like a runway, drawing the ladies filing in behind her down through the aisle of folding chairs. Light-up auction paddles waited for them on each of those seats.

  A hand touched Sophie’s shoulder just before David leaned in to whisper, “Ready when you are.” He pressed a microphone into her hand, the same one she used on party nights whenever she had announcements.

  She could do this, Sophie told herself. She could totally do this.

  A smoky mist began curling out across the stage, falling in ethereal wisps to the floor where it spread out to twine about the feet and ankles of those seated in the front row. Lines of multicolored lights around the edge of the stage flashed on, blinking along to the beat of the music now drowning out any hint of whether the orchestra still played or not.

  Her palms felt sweaty. Her hands shook. She hoped this wasn’t a flop.

  “Welcome, ladies,” Sophie said as she flicked the microphone on. The speakers around the stage amplified the false confidence in her voice as she took her place to the back of that ocean of chairs. During practice, this had been the only place in the room where she could stand without the mic and speakers screeching feedback off one another. From here, the low thump of the base beat throbbed through the floor and up through her feet. “Welcome to the CCC’s first ever Date-A-Dom auction. The rules tonight are simple: You are bidding on one night—and one night only—in the privacy of the Crystal Cabin, with all the amenities it has to offer, under the undivided attention of one of our vetted doms. Five of them have stepped forward tonight, ladies. Five men who make a living out of finding ‘em hot and leaving ‘em wet, and they are ready, willing, and fully capable of offering their spanking services… to you.” Sophie smiled at the giggles that inspired. “You know them. You’ve watched them scene and you know what they can do. Get ready, because the hotter you get, the faster they’ll come. And for the price of your winning bid, these men are gearing up to do all of that to you. I bring you the bad boys from Big Banks’ very own Ladder 54 and the CCC’s first ever Date-A-Dom!”

  The black screen mounted to the back of the stage lit up with a ceiling-high photograph of the fire station, complete with crisscrossing ladder trucks. And there standing in a line along the back where no one had seen them even come out onto the stage, were Walt’s boys: Walker, Troy, Blake, Declan, and Theo. They stood in full fire gear, all beat up and scruffy and even smelling faintly of smoke, as if they had come straight from the worst the dry Montana summers and a stray spark had to offer. Their heads were bowed, showing only the tops of their smudged yellow helmets, with the flashing lights reflecting off their raised visors. Their big hands hung straight at their sides. Their legs were each braced a shoulder span apart. They could have been a line of strippers straight out of a movie like Magic Mike. An image that was reinforced on the very next deep thump of the base speakers, when as one, all five of them shed their heavy work coats to reveal they were shirtless underneath.

  The women in the audience erupted in gasps, then cheers and enthusiastic clapping.

  Beside her, David snorted laughter. “I’m so never letting any of them live this down,” he said under his breath. “Ever.”

  “Be nice,” Sophie told him, grinning for the first time all night. She’d never been so proud of anyone, the way she was as she stood watching these men and trying not to cry. They weren’t just doing this for her and Walt; they were throwing themselves into the role as if they’d been practicing for it for weeks. “If you think you
can do better, you get on up there too.”

  “No, thank you,” David grinned. “I’m married and I would like to stay that way.”

  Bringing the microphone back to her lips, Sophie called above the whooping of the crowd, “Count your cash and grab your bank cards, ladies.” On cue, all five firemen stepped into the flashing light to take their place in the center of that swirling, smoke-filled stage. “You know what they say: Play with fire and you could get burned. Well, I say, play with a fireman and you’ll end up wet… every time! Throw your hands together for our first man up—Walker!”

  Sweeping his helmet off his head, the fireman to the far left tossed it away and strutted out to the forward edge of the stage. All dark hair and devilish grin, Walker had been a hot commodity dom from the moment he’d started attending the CCC. The man had only moved here from California a year ago. It was said Los Angeles was the City of Angels, but only because the City of Sin had already been taken, and it was definitely not angels that Walker brought to mind when he raised his arms to flex his muscles and strike a sideways pose.

  “A master with both flogger and cane, if you’ve seen him play then you also know he’s got one hell of a pumper!” Sophie quickly shut off the mic, but not before David threw his head back and laughed. On the stage, Walker shot her a warning look, but at the same time gave a dutiful hip thrust that set the audience off into peals of squealing giggles. Bright red flashes from multiple auction paddles rippled through the audience before she could even say, “Shall we start the bidding at one hundred dollars—I’ve got two… three hundred…”

  “Yup!” David boomed out, still laughing as he took his place as a spotter out in the crowd. He walked down the aisle, a sweeping gesture of his hand following every subsequent red flash that upped Walker’s price that much higher.

  The number ratcheted high in a shocking amount of time, passing a thousand, which was easily five hundred more than she’d thought possible when this whole idea had been laid out before her. “Fifteen hundred,” she called. “Now who’ll give me sixteen… sixteen hundred?”

  “Yup!” David called, his arm flying out to match the bright red flash of a paddle coming up in the front row. But bidding had slowed. Only two women now remained locked in a red-flashing war of determined auction paddles.

  “Seventeen hundred,” Sophie called.

  “Yup!” David confirmed, pointing to the flash of a paddle in the far back.

  “Eighteen hu—”

  “Yup!”

  “Do I hear nineteen hundred?”

  The woman in the back of the room—Sophie squinted; was that Tammi Lou?—hesitated, but then her paddle flashed as she held it up again, shooting the bid back to the front row. Shielding her eyes against the glare of the stage lights, Sophie was shocked to see shy, quiet, had-yet-to-play Rylee slap her paddle up into the air.

  “Yup!” David called at the flash.

  “The bid is at nineteen hundred dollars,” she called. “Do I hear two—”

  Rylee’s paddle hit the air before Sophie could even finish, and upped the bid.

  Everyone knew Tammi Lou had more money than even God knew what to do with. But for some reason, she hesitated. Truth be told, she had been hesitating for some time, but then that was the nature of auctions. The bidding would go until someone ran out of money. That that someone looked to be Tammi Lou was nothing short of shocking, but it never occurred to Sophie that something might be wrong. Not until Walker hopped down off the stage and, suddenly, Tammi Lou vomited, something Sophie only knew because the women around her jumped out of their chairs with gasps and exclamations.

  Walker was at her side before Sophie could switch the mic off. Knowing Tammi Lou could have had no finer help and halfway suspecting she’d probably engineered this in order to get it, Sophie signaled to Lance at the bar and then continued with her job. “We’re at two thousand dollars, ladies. Do I hear two thousand and one?”

  Tammi Lou didn’t wait for anyone else’s help, not even Walker’s. Her face flushed and sweating, she grabbed the back of her dress and ran for the nearest bathroom.

  “Too much to drink,” Walker mimed at her. He waved for Sophie to keep going, and even stayed to clean up just as soon as Lance got there with a bucket and rag.

  That man was a keeper.

  “Going once…” Sophie said, slowly reclaiming the attention of the crowd as she closed out the remaining bidder. “Come on, ladies, he’s not just an excellent dom, but he does cleanup too! Going twice…”

  Walker poked his head up over the top of the crowd to give her the kind of look that made her laughingly glad she wasn’t his submissive.

  “Sold,” she declared, “to Rylee for two thousand dollars!”

  She could not have been more pleased at the price one night with Walker had brought. It was always the quiet ones who surprised her, Sophie thought, as David met Rylee with cellphone and chip reader ready to swipe for payment.

  “There’s still four more doms to go,” she cried, the excitement on the floor kicking back up in a wave as the tallest of the firemen stepped out of the lineup and took center stage. “He’s six-foot and five-inches of good ol’ boy wrapped in muscle, and he’s got a love for the darker side of S&M. Best known around the firehouse for perfecting the phrase, ‘We’re gonna need a little more head pressure,’ put your hands together for Blake!”

  The ladies whooped and cheered as Blake strolled out to the front of the stage.

  “You can climb that man like a tree,” Sophie called, cheerfully ignoring the arched eyebrow Blake gave her as he spread his arms and made a slow circle, letting the women get a good look. He strode toward Sophie, removing his helmet and holding it against his left hip as he threw her a salacious wink.

  “I’m ready, Mrs. Lassiter,” he hollered out across the sea of excited women. His steps were confident and his hips held nothing but swagger as he asked them, “Who wants me?”

  The volume in the place rose exponentially, and he grinned.

  Showboat, Sophie thought fondly. “Let the bidding start at one hundred dollars!”

  Flashing red paddles shot into the air and the price went soaring. Apparently, tall-as-trees firemen inspired a pretty price, because they passed Walker’s ending bid by more than three hundred dollars before Sophie’s second surprise of the night stood up in victory. It was Lauren, Emma’s British-sounding friend whom Sophie had only just met and who had never even attended a CCC party before. She’d have pegged that girl as a newbie, and newbies were usually so reserved. That Lauren wasn’t stunned Sophie almost as much as Blake’s twenty-four-hundred-dollar winning bid.

  “Next up, we have Troy!” And so it went on, with Troy bringing two thousand, and gorgeous sun-bronzed Declan bringing twenty-three hundred, and finally it was the last fireman standing. Theo milked the audience, too. He flexed, he winked, he worked the crowd. Whether it was because he was the last dom and their last chance for something that might very well never be offered at the CCC again, Sophie didn’t know, but he brought more than three thousand dollars and a whooping war cry of victory from the winning bidder—a young lady named Selene, whom Sophie had only just met at the coffee shop the day before.

  Sophie managed to hold everything together while the ladies, both the winning and those who hadn’t, filed back out of the living room. Some went outside to walk along the balcony and watch as moonlight played upon the rippling surface of the lake. Others headed upstairs, where the silent auction was still in full swing.

  “We just collected eleven thousand six hundred dollars,” David said as he handed back both her cellphone and the chip scanner.

  Walker shut off the music, while Declan turned off the flashing multicolored lights, and the remaining three firemen came down off the stage to meet her.

  Troy spread his arms. “Well?” he said with a smile. “Not bad for a bunch of truckies, right?”

  She didn’t know how close she was to losing it until she tried to thank them. Throwing her
arms around as many as she could reach, Sophie burst into tears.

  The Dance Card

  By

  Maren Smith

  Chapter One

  Rylee Mercer arrived at the Crystal Lake cabin a good ten minutes before she finally worked up courage enough to get out of her car.

  “I can do this,” she whispered under her breath. She was strong. She was fierce. She was worth this; she deserved it. And besides, there was always a chance Tammi Lou might not attend tonight, so Rylee probably didn’t even need to worry about… well, that.

  It still took ten minutes, each and every one of which was filled with the kind of whispered validations that would have done self-help guru Murphy Wallace proud, if only he knew she’d bought all his books. Or that she was his number one undeclared fan. Or, in fact, that she existed at all.

  Which was the reason she’d started reading his books in the first place. Rylee Mercer was tired of not existing. She was tired of being the most invisible girl at any given party—the stalwart wallflower, always in a corner, watching the action because she lacked the nerve to do… well, anything. That she’d received an invite at all was only due to being a vetted CCC member and, therefore, on the automatic invite roster. Otherwise, she probably wouldn’t be.

  “You’re fierce,” she whispered, brows drawn in determination, hands wringing the black felt of her steering wheel cover. “Get your fierce ass out of this stupid car.”

  But getting out meant walking up to the cabin, with all those smokers gathered around the fire pit watching her come and knowing why. The embarrassment…

  Oh, as if they weren’t here for the same damn thing!