Picture Perfect (Butler Island)

by Nikki Rittenberry

  She was impressed with how well they’d turned out. She’d captured Ty and Randall hosing down the front of the building; Chief Handler shouting orders in his handheld radio; various angles of the brick building consumed with hellish flames.

  But her favorite was the one she’d captured of Grant.

  It was taken automatically by her time-lapse feature as the roof was collapsing. He had just emerged from the blaze and was running toward the camera. His hat and mask had already been removed and black soot was smeared around the edges of his face. Behind him was a thick haze of smothering smoke.

  But that’s not what made this picture her favorite.

  There was something about his blue eyes—they were ironically translucent, revealing his mind, his heart. Relief that he and his “brothers” had made it out of the collapse unharmed.

  And weakness.

  Not for the punishment his body had just endured—but for her. A realization that for the first time in his life, he was running toward something—or someone—that mattered…

  This was the kind of photograph that Adversity Magazine loved: an image that stimulated an emotional response. On Monday, she was going to head to the post office and send it off. Olivia smiled at the notion: who would’ve thought that her latest masterpiece would star her hometown?—her hero?

  Olivia sighed as she positioned herself behind the wheel of her Mini Cooper. A familiar wave of gratification and content washed over her. Buckling her seatbelt, she turned the ignition and maneuvered her vehicle out of the post office parking lot. She felt this way every time one of her photographs was en route to its published destiny. Some people were addicted to drugs or alcohol; others gambling. But for her, an overwhelming sense of euphoria seeped from her pores whenever she satisfactorily submitted a meaningful and expressive work of art.

  The late afternoon sun was steadily plummeting from the western sky, transforming the atmosphere into a canvas of variegated brilliance. Instead of heading home, she decided to use the picturesque ambiance to her advantage.

  After she’d received permission from Chief Handler several weeks ago to accompany the fire department on their calls, she’d visited city hall. Chief had requested she fill-out the necessary paperwork relieving the department from liability in the event she was to become injured. Thankful for the opportunity she’d been given, she’d immediately traveled there.

  During her brief visit, Mayor Cliffburg had propositioned her. He’d explained that the newly renovated building lacked artwork and asked if she’d be willing to provide her services. She’d accepted his offer, aware that opportunities to make money in the small town were few and far between. Olivia had concocted the idea of photographing various landmarks on the island and the mayor immediately fell in love with the concept.

  So with sunset looming and her euphoric mood intact, she decided to head to the first landmark on her list: the boat warehouse. It had a vintage appearance; one that she thought would benefit from both color and black-and-white photography.

  Located adjacent to the marina, the warehouse specialized in repair and maintenance of the area’s numerous watercrafts: everything from Jet Ski’s to fishing boats to sailing vessels. The warehouse was temporarily closed due to damage it incurred from the tropical storm that’d skirted along the Florida Panhandle back in early October, but the owner, Mr. Morgan, had given her special permission to photograph the interior and exterior of the metal building.

  After parking her car near the marina, she cased the exterior, searching for the perfect angle that not only captured the enormous structure, but also showcased the kaleidoscopic sunset above. Once she was satisfied with the amount of images outside, she carefully entered the building.

  Beams of light infiltrated the large windows near the ceiling, casting a radiant glow to portions of the dimly lit storage facility. Her eyes scanned the room in a smooth, panoramic motion, finally landing on a small sailing vessel located in the back corner. She quickly journeyed toward it, her camera emanating a rhythmic “click” as she accumulated images. Realizing that she had roughly twenty minutes of daylight left, she trekked along the back of the warehouse, when suddenly she discovered she wasn’t alone.

  She caught a glimpse of a man dressed in black, his face covered with a dark ski mask. He was meandering through the aisles toward the middle of the building, randomly dumping liquid on the boats surrounding him. Olivia hid behind a fourteen foot Pontoon boat parked along the back of the dim warehouse, relentlessly photographing the event.

  And then, the unthinkable—

  He struck a match…

  In an instant, she heard a whoosh, witnessed a ball of fire, felt a rush of searing heat. She raised her arm, shielding her face from the intense blaze and when she removed it, the mystery man in black had disappeared.

  She needed to get out of there.

  Fast.

  After fleeing the burning warehouse, Olivia reached into her pocket for her cell phone and called for help. Less than five minutes later, the fire engine arrived, along with several of the department’s finest following closely behind in their personal vehicles.

  Olivia observed Chief Handler directing the scene, carefully examining the blaze like a flame whisperer and then calling out orders to extinguish them.

  “This is the work of an arsonist”, she said as she approached.

  Never removing his eyes from the flames, he answered, “Most likely. But we won’t know that for sure until we extinguish the fire and search the building for evidence.”

  “There’s no need, Chief. I was here when the fire started.”

  “What?” he asked as he turned to face her.

  Olivia handed him her camera. “It was arson. Here’s your proof.”

  “Alright, now that everyone’s here, let’s get started”, Chief Handler announced as he stood in front of the enormous flat-screen T.V. in the corral of the fire station.

  “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I called a mandatory meeting this morning… As you are all aware, the island has seen an abundance of fires in the last several months. We’ve all speculated as to how these fires were started. At first, we believed it was purely coincidental. But as the numbers increased, our opinions rapidly changed.”

  “Investigations by the state fire marshal corroborated our theory, but we still had zero leads—until now. It appears as though we are dealing with a lone arsonist. And I can say this with confidence, because Olivia witnessed the arsonist in action.”

  “What was she doing there?” Jimmy asked.

  “From what I understand, the mayor hired her to photograph various places around the island. Basically, she was at the wrong place at the right time.”

  “So did she get a good look at them?” Randall inquired.

  “Not them—him. And unfortunately she wasn’t able to make an ID; he was wearing a ski mask.”

  “So, Chief, if the arsonist was wearing a disguise, how can we be sure it was a ‘he’?” Jarrod questioned.

  “I asked that question, too. Olivia said, and I quote, ‘if it wasn’t a man, then the town is being burnt to the ground by Chyna Doll, the woman wrestler.’”

  Everyone laughed. WWE had been a favorite source of entertainment for years and although the woman wrestler was retired, everyone was familiar with her appearance. How could they not be?—she had bigger biceps than half the guys at the department.

  “Olivia may not have seen his face, but she still captured him setting fire to the warehouse on her camera. We’re getting closer to catching this guy…”

  Shit, they’re on to me!

  He tried to maintain his poker face; tried not to squirm like a bucket of earthworms in his seat. How could he have been so irresponsible? He knew better than to set a fire without searching the premises first.

  He’d gotten careless—driven by the need for overtime money and fear of what his bookie would do to him if he was late on another payment.

  Next time, he would be more careful. />
  But until then, he needed to destroy what little evidence they had on him and he knew exactly where to start…

  Little Miss Olivia…

  CHAPTER 14

  With another shift successfully completed, Grant drove to Olivia’s. It had become a part of their routine: every third day, he left the fire station and spent time with her. Keeping their relationship hidden was becoming more difficult by the day, but if sneaking around was the only way to make her feel comfortable, then he was more than willing to oblige.

  After parking his truck along the street, he drifted toward the front door and rang the doorbell. Within moments Olivia answered the door, the sexy little number she wore rendering him almost speechless.

  “What’s the matter, Womack? Cat got your tongue?” she teased as she held the door open.

  His eyes swept down the length of her body. Her honey-blonde hair was haphazardly clipped to the top of her head, random strands falling around the frame of her face. A jade terrycloth jacket covered much of her upper body, except for the fact that it was unzipped midway; exposing a navy tank top underneath. His eyes traveled further south, focusing on a matching jade mini skirt that made her killer legs appear longer than they actually were—and he should know; several weeks ago those seductive legs were wrapped around his waist. Finally, his gaze landed on her perfectly pedicured feet, her toenails painted a pale shade of pink.

  “Grant, hello…?” she uttered as she waved her hand in front of his face. “Are you still with me?”

  Realizing he’d been staring, salivating at the sight of her, he briefly shook his head, transporting his mind back to reality. “Yeah, I’m with you”, he said as he wrapped his arms around her. “For much of the night…”

  After his unexpected trance, they fell into their usual routine: dinner, wine, and great conversation. They’d been sitting on the couch for a while, recounting their day, when Grant finally divulged the specifics about the department’s meeting earlier that morning.

  “Chief mentioned you were there and caught the arsonist in action. Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

  “I didn’t want to keep that bit of information from you, but Chief Handler made me swear not to tell anyone until he had an opportunity to speak with you guys.”

  Grant sighed as he gently nudged a stray lock of hair away from her left eye. “I’m so thankful the guy didn’t see you—there’s no telling how he would’ve reacted had he realized he wasn’t alone.”

  Glancing down at her lap, she nodded. “I know. Luckily, I kept hidden; he never suspected I was there…”

  “It was risky—too risky!”

  “Speaking of ‘risky situations’: Do you have any idea how close you came to that roof collapsing on you last week at the theater fire?”

  “That’s different—”

  “How so?” she asked curiously.

  Grant shrugged his shoulders. “It’s my job… It’s what I’m paid to do.”

  Olivia tucked her feet underneath her and began picking at her fingernails. Grant studied her for a few long beats. Something was bothering her and she appeared to be fighting an internal war over whether or not to share it with him. He tilted her chin up with his fingertips and met her gaze. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

  “You scared me—that night at the fire—you really scared me. When I heard the roof collapse, I thought—”

  “Hey”, he mumbled softly as he reached for her and pulled her onto his lap. “It’s okay—I’m okay. I’ve been doing this for a long time; nothing bad’s going to happen to me.”

  Olivia stared into the depths of his blue eyes and the next thing she knew, she was inching forward. She pressed her lips against his and when he parted his lips, her tongue surged into his mouth with an animal-like intensity.

  A predator consuming its prey…

  She was through with deprivation. She didn’t want to starve her body any longer. She wanted to indulge—devour everything he was willing to give her—until she was thoroughly satiated.

  Following her lead, he ravaged her with his kiss. He was teetering on the edge of control, clenching his hands to restrain himself. Letting go—free falling into a sexual abyss—wasn’t an option. He wanted her—more than his next breath—but he needed to know that she wanted him, too.

  Gripping her shoulders, he respectfully pushed her away and then gawked at her through hooded eyes. “I don’t want you to start something that we can’t finish”, he mumbled in a gravelly voice he barely recognized. “I want you so damn bad it hurts, but I won’t do this unless you tell me.”

  Biting her plump bottom lip, Olivia stood and offered her hand. When he accepted, she helped him to his feet and then turned, leading him down the hall to her bedroom. After turning on the small lamp adjacent to her antique white canopy bed, she pivoted to face him.

  He stood in the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the doorjamb, perusing her body as she unzipped her jacket and shrugged it down her bare arms. Then, grasping the bottom edge of her navy tank, she raised her arms, removing the thin stretchy garment; revealing two perfectly round breasts.

  “I want you”, she whispered, her gaze never leaving his.

  Grant expelled a puff of air from his lungs. It was hard to concentrate with Olivia standing in front of him, topless. “What about afterward? I don’t want you to spend the next week avoiding me.”

  Slipping her thumbs underneath the waistband of her skirt, she nudged the material down her legs, along with her delicate lace panties. “That’s not going to happen”, she assured him. “I want to do this—I want you…”

  Savoring her words, his eyes feasted on her perfectly sculpted, bare body. He groaned when she reached up and removed the clip from her hair, captivated by the way the ends of her blonde locks settled around the curve of her breasts. His attention traveled south along the firm plane of her taut, yet feminine stomach, finally focusing on the thin, dark strip of hair that barely covered her mound.

  Holy shit—she waxes!

  His bulging sex pressed against the fly of his cargos at the discovery. The last time they’d been this intimate, they were in her darkroom. It was dimly lit; he could see enough of her body to know it was utterly flawless, but it’d been too dark to really “see” her.

  Thank you, Thomas Edison, for inventing the light bulb. I’m forever indebted to you…

  Olivia smiled as she cleared her throat, hoping to regain his undivided attention. “Well, are you gonna just stand there and stare at me?—or are you comin’?”

  Pushing off the doorjamb, Grant reached over his shoulder and grabbed a fistful of his navy fire department T-shirt, yanking it over his head as he slowly walked toward her. “Oh, I’m coming”, he assured her, his voice laced with lust. Finally standing in front of her, he tilted her chin up to look at him. “And soon, you’ll be coming too…”

  He observed as her eyes deepened to a shadowy pine green; evidence that she was as equally aroused as he was.

  She could almost feel his eyes searing her, the heat almost too much to bear. “Promise?” she asked flirtatiously.

  With his fingertips still supporting her chin, he gently brushed his mouth across the surface of her lips. “Uh-huh”, he whispered against her mouth. “And I always keep my promises…”

  Unable to ignore the pulsing need overwhelming her body, she rose onto her toes and took control of the kiss. Cupping his face, she assaulted his tongue with fierce desperation. She could feel her body losing control; sense the tension melting away. For the first time in her life, her mind and her body existed in perfect harmony.

  And for the first time, she wasn’t afraid of the repercussions.

  Her aggressiveness threatened his sanity. He’d purposely held back, afraid if he moved too fast, came on too strong, he’d only push her away. He hadn’t expected her to unleash such unbridled desire. Her hungry kiss communicated urgency; radiated an intense sensual energy.

  Soft whimpers fled her mouth. Grant swa
llowed them, relishing the sound, savoring her lack of restraint. Her fingertips traveled down the distinct wall of his chest, further down the ripples of his six-pack abs, until she reached the fly of his navy cargo pants. She cupped and caressed his hard length, threatening to prematurely entice his release.

  Gripping her wrists, he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. “Slow down, baby. We’ve got all night.”

  Olivia shook her head. “I don’t want to slow down. I need you; I don’t want to wait anymore. Please, Grant… please…”

  Picking her up, he tossed her onto the bed and before her body was able to bounce, he came down on top of her. Trailing kisses down her neck, he cupped one of her breasts, gently fondling her pink pebbled nipple with his thumb. And when his tongue mimicked what his thumb had just done, she arched her back, pressing her sensitive nipple deeper into his mouth.

  Reaching down with his free hand, he gently glided his fingers against her slick, dewy center. “Is this for me, Livvy?” he asked, his voice rough and gritty as though he’d swallowed sandpaper. “Huh?—is this what I do to you?”

  “Yes—omigod!” she gasped as he entered her body with one of his fingers.

  Although her eyes were closed, she could feel him watching her, taking pleasure in her writhing body. “Grant, please… I’m begging you!”

  His fingers never wavered. “Tell me what you want”, he demanded softly.

  “You—inside me—right now… Please!”

  He planted his feet on the floor, removing his cargo pants and boxer briefs. He unrolled a condom over his throbbing length with lightening speed and then tugged her ankles, dragging her body to the edge of the bed. Standing above her, he wrapped her legs around his waist and braced his hands on either side of her head on the bed.

  And then, he plunged into her...

  His rigid girth filled her completely, her body stretching to accommodate the welcomed intrusion.

  Hovering above her, his eyes raked across the surface of her feminine curves as their bodies collided. “God, Livvy, you’re so beautiful.”