by Kara Hart
“Do you want to sit down?” I ask her.
“Sure,” she sighs. “Why the hell not?”
Chapter 5: Olivia
“So, what do you do?” he asks.
“I’m a DJ for the local radio station 103.9,” I tell him.
“The hip hop station? Really?” he nods his head.
“No, not really,” I admit. “I work in social media. It’s pretty boring, actually.”
“I don’t know. That sounds interesting,” he lies.
“Not really, actually,” I say. “But it pays the bills so I stay. That’s how it goes, right?”
“Yeah, I guess that’s how it goes,” he says.
“What do you do?” I ask him.
“Take a wild guess,” he says.
“Cop?” I ask him.
When he hears my guess, he winces. “Damn,” he sighs. “I really look like a cop to you?”
“I guess not,” I say. “You’re more fit than most cops.”
“I’m a firefighter,” he says.
His shirt is tight against his chest. When leans against the table, his muscles flex. All of a sudden, my throat feels dry. When I swallow, its loud and awkward.
He totally notices and laughs. “What?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I quickly respond. “I just didn’t assume you were a…”
“A hero?” he asks.
“Do heroes call themselves heroes?” I ask him.
He leans back against the booth and smiles. “I’m just messing around,” he says.
He clears his throat and looks me in the eye. “You know, I normally don’t go out. And when I do, I don’t give other women my number. I have to admit, you were so dang pretty that I had to say something,” he says.
I nearly choke. My cheeks grow warm. I feel them turn a darker shade of red.
“It’s… okay,” I say. “I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”
I take a sip of my drink and feel the whisky burn down my throat. I start to wonder about other things. Like, how big is his cock? Does he fuck passionately? I bet he does. I bet he knows exactly how to treat a woman.
His eyes light up all of a sudden, “I don’t know what it is, but you remind me of someone.”
I shrug. “There are a lot of people in the world. I’m sure there’s someone else out there that looks like me.”
“No, I’m serious. You remind me of someone I used to know,” he says. “It’s oddly comforting.”
“Comforting?” I laugh. “Well, thanks for the compliment, I guess.”
“Would you rather I say you have a smoking ass and perfect set of tits?” he asks me, sly smile and all.
I’m starting to feel tipsy and good. This is a dangerous combo for a girl like me.
“Is that your assessment of me?” I ask him.
“Maybe,” he says, keeping his eyes on me. Slowly, they start to trail down. I can see the fire in his eyes.
“Well, maybe I’d like that,” I say.
I shouldn’t be saying these things. I shouldn’t be over at his booth. I should be home with my cat, curled up with a nice book and my 30 dollar bottle of wine. That’s my normal life. I’m boring. I don’t put out fires. I don’t see any action.
He takes my hand and immediately I turn hot.
“What’s happening?” I whisper.
“I don’t know,” he says.
We both know exactly what’s going on here. His lips crush against mine. My eyes close and my whole body starts vibrating with heavy lust and wonder. This is bad. This is real bad. But, God, it feels so fucking good. How can I stop?
I pull my faec away, but place my hand against his chest. It’s as solid as a boulder. I start wonder what else is solid, but as soon as I open my eyes to look at him, Sandra is back. She’s in tears.
“We need to leave right now,” she says.
“What?” I ask her. “What happened?”
“Jack! He told me no one would ever love me again. He said that I’ve gained too much weight and that I’m too old for anyone to care about me,” she cries.
Dammit, Jack. I guess it’s probably for the better. I shouldn’t be entertaining these fantasies tonight. I should be there for my friend.
“I have to go,” I mutter. I can see the strain in his eyes, as if he’s coming up with excuses for me not to go.
“Alright. No worries,” he says. He touches his lips for a second and squints his eyes. “Guess I’ll see you around.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, getting up to comfort Sandra. “Maybe we’ll meet again sometime. If not, have a good night.”
I turn to comfort my friend. “Let’s go, Sandra. I’m so sorry, baby girl.”
As we leave the bar, I turn back one more time. The man is sitting by himself, drinking a Pabst Blue Ribbon. Behind him is a snowy glimpse of the outside world. Tonight, we’ll both go home cold and alone.
Chapter 6: Cole
I can’t believe I went home without her last night. Every few seconds, I think about her kiss. I can still feel her palm against my chest, tempting me. If only her friend hadn’t ruined the evening…
Oddly enough, she left her phone at the booth. It must have slipped out of her purse right before she took off.
Here I am, getting all giddy about having a woman’s cell phone. It’s not like me to get excited over one woman. I know that she’ll call soon enough. When she does, I’ll be there to pick up the phone and then we can finally go on that date.
I still have an image of her in my head from last night. She was wearing that tight-fitting skirt. It’s the type of skirt that splits right down the center. Every time I think about it, I feel my cock thicken.
I go outside for a second, drink my first cup of coffee for the day, and then I hear that phone ring.
“Shit,” I mutter.
I run back inside, spilling coffee all over my clean, white shirt. I make an exasperated noise and drop the cup onto my carpet.
“This is not my day,” I sigh.
I run back inside and realize that it’s not actually her phone ringing. It’s mine. I grab it and press the green button.
“Eric, man,” I sigh. “What’s up?”
“You’ll never guess who just called me,” he says.
“I can only imagine,” I laugh. “Trump?”
“No, you idiot. It was the New York Times,” he says.
“The newspaper? You’re kidding,” I say.
“No joke,” he says.
“Well, what the hell do they want to talk to you about?” I ask.
“Everything and more. They want to feature us in the next online issue,” he says.
His voice is excited, but I feel a sense of dread creep into my stomach.
“This sounds like bad news,” I say.
“Bad news? Why are you so against doing this? Is this because that hot chick left without you last night? Look, man. Don’t sweat it. That shit always happens to me. This is much bigger than that,” he says.
“Nah, man. It’s not about that. This is not good news. Think for a second. What do you reckon they want to talk to you about?” I ask him.
He pauses. “Our bravery,” he says.
“They want to talk to us about the fire,” I interrupt. “They don’t give a shit about our bravery. They want to know what happened that night. You know. They want to hear from our perspective.”
I can hear him talk a deep breath. His hurried footsteps pause to think. “Well, maybe it’s time we talk about it,” he says.
My voice gets more rough when i realize how little I can trust Eric.
“And then what? We’ll lose all privacy again. I want you to think for one second about this. You’re involving me in something I want no part in,” I say.
“Maybe I don’t give a shit about privacy,” he says.
“Do you think talking to some uppity reporter is about to bring her back?” I growl.
He breathes heavy into the receiver. I know I’ve taken it too far. I shouldn’t have brought
that memory back.
“I’m sorry, man,” I say. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Someday soon. We’re going to have to face what happened. We can’t keep running forever,” he says.
I stay silent. I remember that night far too well. I remember their cries. I remember the look in their families’ eyes. There was so much destruction. I never want to relive that night again.
“You there?” Eric asks.
“Yeah. I’m here,” I mutter back.
“Look, I won’t talk about it any further. You’re going to the station holiday party right?” he asks.
Shit. The holiday party. I completely forgot. “Yeah. I guess I’ll be there. I’ll see you around nine.”
I end the call with Eric and fall back onto my bed. I close my eyes for a quick second. I guess I just have to live with the fact that this gorgeous woman hasn’t called her phone yet.
Eventually, I take matters into my own hands. I open her phone, searching through her contacts. Sandra. Click.
“Sandra? Hey, I’m the guy from the nightclub last night. I know this is weird, but your friend left her phone at the bar last night. I’m trying to get it back to her. Do you know how I can get it back to her?”
“Oh, it’s you,” she sighs. “She’s actually right next to me. Would you like to talk to her yourself?”
She’s a bit bratty, but it doesn’t faze me. I definitely want to talk to her hot friend. I’d like to plant my face in between her thighs. I want to snake my tongue against her wet hole. Is that allowed? How about light choking and hair pulling? Does she like to be spanked? God, I have too many questions to ask.
“Yeah, sure. Put her on,” I say, calmly.
The phone makes a noise and then she’s on. “Hello?”
“I have your phone,” I tell her.
“Who is this?” she asks.
“The cop from the bar,” I say.
Her voice is a breath of fresh air. It’s slightly monotone and catches at the back of the throat, just long enough to drag out and make your dick hard. It’s different. She’s different, and I want to take her in every position imaginable.
“Oh, it’s you,” she sighs. “Why are you going through my phone?”
“I was just trying to help, ma’am. You left your phone at my booth. I didn’t want to go into your contacts, but I thought you should know where it is,” I say.
Who knows what else is on this phone? Just how dirty does this woman get?
“I’m just messing around,” she says. “I figured you’d call eventually. Cool if we meet up and exchange tonight?”
“Well, I’m kind of busy. There’s a Christmas party at the fire station. You can meet me there if you want,” I say.
“A party? You’re trying to drag me to a party with you?” she asks.
“Trust me. I’m really dreading the idea of going out tonight too. But maybe if we hang out together, it won’t be so bad,” I say.
Perfect persuasion. How could she resist?
“I don’t think so,” she says. “I have work in the morning.”
“So what? I do too. I have to work out at nine A.M.” I laugh. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Don’t leave me there all by myself.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” she says. “Okay, what’s your address? I’ll come grab my phone in a few minutes. We’re just finishing up with something.”
“Alright, but you’re missing out,” I say.
“That’s what all the guys say,” she replies.
I give her my address, understanding that this is probably about as far as we’ll go. When I hang up the phone, I feel bored and a bit resentful. I’m mostly pissed at myself.
Women. They’re the hardest code in the world to crack. But I’m not giving up on this one. Not yet, at least.
Chapter 7: Olivia
“He is probably surrounded by hot men,” Sandra laughs wildly.
I respond with a condescending glare.
She continues, “I’m serious! I think you should at least check it out. Firefighters are about as hot as a man can get.”
“Your imagination is definitely at the height of its madness,” I say. “I’m not trying to go out anywhere tonight. Plus, I don’t think it’s wise for me to get involved with any risky-types.”
“Alright, I get it. You want to end up with some boring guy who will just be there for you all of the time,” she says.
“Is there something wrong with that?” I ask her.
She smiles. “Deep down, I know you like wild men. Stop pretending.”
I feel my cheeks grow warm. I remember how hot he looked at the bar. I remember how his hands felt around my waist. “Okay, he was a great kisser,” I admit.
“You dirty girl,” she smiles back. “You kissed him? What the hell. I missed it?!”
I ignore her and continue. “I don’t think we should forget how I met him. Remember? He gave me his number after getting bored with the date he was with! That’s like the lowest of the low. I felt so bad for that woman.”
Sandra shrugs. “I’ve seen worse,” she says.
“Oh, bullshit,” I groan. “You know that’s up there on the scale. Plus, it’s almost Christmas. Now that poor girl is going to be depressed for the holidays.”
“Who isn’t depressed during the holidays?” she asks. “Besides, it’s not as bad as what Jack has done to me.”
“Oh, you’re bringing Jack into this now?” I ask.
“Yes, I’m pulling the Jack card. Look, that guy at the club seemed okay enough. Sure, he pulled some scummy shit. Ever guy does that. Jack has practically spit in my face during an argument. Just wait until you get into a long-term relationship. Anything is game at that point.”
“Well, you can rule that out quickly ‘cause I am not getting into any long-term relationships. Nope. It’s just me and my cat.”
I say the words with pride, as if it takes strength to be alone. Trust me. It doesn’t.
“Come on, Olivia,” she sighs. “What if this is the one?”
“The one?” I laugh and make a choking noise. “As if that exists. One person who understands every intricate aspect of you. One person to make you happy for the rest of your life. One person to satisfy your every need. It’s just not possible, Sandra.”
“All I’m saying is that for life to really give you magic, you have to fully embrace out-of-the-box ideas. Which means, you have to go to this party tonight,” she says.
“Why are on his side all of a sudden?” I eye her cautiously. I grab her brush and begin combing my hair.
“Because, girl. You are my best friend and you deserve some action,” she says. “You’re always listening to me ramble on about my shit and giving me advice. Now, it’s time to return the favor. This is what you’ve been waiting for. A fling. It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to. You should at least entertain the idea.”
“But he’s an asshole, right?” I ask.
Even I don’t know anymore. Maybe he’s just a guy who knows what he wants.
“So what? Can he fuck? Most likely.”
It takes a few seconds for that line of hers to sink in. When it does, we both break out into a hearty laugh.
“You’re absurd, but I have a feeling that you’re right. I’ll go, dammit,” I grunt.
“That’s my girl,” she smiles big.
“How is my outfit? I can’t wear this to a party.” I glance in the mirror at myself. I look… plain. Jeans, a cut off t-shirt, and tennis shoes? Not exactly sex appeal 101.
“I’ve got a dress you can wear,” she says.
She runs into her closet and searches through the endless trove of material. Finally, she pulls something out and brings it into the living room.
“Ta-da!” She smiles, holding a slim-fitted, red dress. It’s sexier than sin. I just hope I can fit into it.
“Since when do you wear dresses like that?” I ask her.
“Jack got it for me. I love it, actually. But we’ve been
fighting endlessly, and I don’t want him to feel like he won by wearing it out. Take it. Once he sees your tits in this dress, he’ll do anything for you,” she says.
“I doubt I’ll fit into it.” I take the dress into my hands and hold it up to my body. It’s definitely a tight fit, but I can try.
“You’ll do fine, Ms. Deprecation,” she says. “Go ahead. Try it on.”
I walk into the bathroom and slip out of my clothes. Standing in front of the mirror, half-naked, I analyze myself. I’m hot, right? I probably ask myself this every single time I look at myself in the mirror. I push out my ass and arch my back, placing my hands against the wall. To me, I look like a sack of potatoes, but I’ve been told before that it’s all in my mind.
“Are you posing in front of the mirror again?” Sandra calls out.
“Maybe!” I yell back.
“Put on the damn dress. You’re hot as hell, girl,” she says.
I step into the dress and hold my breasts into place, while sucking in my stomach. When the dress forms around my body, I feel much better. Yes, I’ll definitely stand out at the party tonight.
“Help me zip this thing,” I say.
Sandra walks into the bathroom and zips up my dress.
“Oh, yes,” she smiles. “This is your look, alright. He’s going to cum in seconds.”
“Well, I don’t want that,” I frown.
I keep my gaze fixed at the mirror. I do look good. At least, from this perspective. I can only imagine what it looks like from behind. I may be 30 now, but my body is at its peak and I’m going to use it to my full advantage.
It is decided. I’m going to this party and I’m going to have fun.
I walk out of the bathroom feeling confident. It’s just a fun night, I tell myself. Nothing serious. He’s just a guy you met and had a good time with. That’s all.
“What if he’s the one?” Sandra winks at me.
“Don’t test me,” I tell her, jokingly.
Chapter 8: Cole
It’s weird how nervous I’m feeling. Scratch that. It’s fucked up. I’m never nervous around women. It makes a little sense this time, however. This is the woman who got me slapped just a few nights ago. I think she gave me PTSD. Not to mention, she’s late by at least four hours.
