Hot In Here. Susan Lyons

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Hot In Here - Susan  Lyons


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the thing is—”

      “Oh! You’re the tap dancer! You were amazing,” she gushed.

      “You were there?”

      “Cheering as loud as I could. Say, I’d just love to buy you a drink to congratulate you in person.”

      “Uh…” He’d never been much for blind dates. “I’m kinda busy right now. And I need to apologize to Ms. Yuen. We were in the middle of, uh, the interview, and the fire alarm went off and I had to leave her, you know, in the middle.” His balls ached at the thought of how they’d left off.

      “I wouldn’t normally give out confidential information, but I know I can trust you, since you’re a firefighter. Okay, you got a pen?”

      She rattled off a number and he wrote it down.

      “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

      She giggled. “I sure hope so. That was mine, for when you’re not so busy. My name’s Farrah. Now I’ll give you Ms. Yuen’s cell number.”

      A couple of minutes later he’d gotten rid of Farrah, pulled a can of Coke out of the fridge and was back on his bed, dialing Jenny’s number. And feeling nervous. She could be pissed that he’d run out on her on Sunday. Yeah, it had been a fire, but girls didn’t always get that they couldn’t always come first.

      Come. Jeez. He winced. He’d left her unsatisfied, so she had a right to be pissed.

      The phone rang a couple of times then she answered, “Jenny Yuen.”

      “Jenny?” he said warily. “It’s Scott.”

      “Hey!” Thank God, she actually sounded pleased. “The guy on my tape recorder.”

      Huh? Then it hit him. “You turned that recorder on and never turned it off.”

      “You got it, probie. I have the whole thing on tape.” She chuckled. “Not that there was much to get. Mainly one really, really loud fire alarm.”

      “You have no idea how sorry I am about that.”

      “Actually, I have a pretty good idea. Must’ve been nasty, fighting a fire with blue balls.”

      She had a wicked mouth on her.

      And God but he’d like to have that wicked mouth on him. The thought was making him hard.

      He wanted to say they had unfinished business, but that’d be pretty crude. He settled for telling her, “I’ve been thinking about you. Wondered if you’d like to get together?”

      “Get together? What did you have in mind?”

      Sex. “Uh, maybe a movie? Dinner? Or lunch? I have a weird schedule. Ten- and fourteen-hour shifts, sometimes days, sometimes nights. Then I get three days off in a row. So I’m pretty flexible.”

      “Mmm. Flexible. That’s good. I like flexible.”

      Was he dreaming, thinking she’d put a double meaning into the words? “Uh…great. So, what would you like to do?”

      “Test out your flexibility?”

      Okay, that definitely had a sexual connotation. “I’m game. How about tonight?” It was Tuesday, one of his days off.

      “Great.”

      “Want to maybe go for a drink, then later we can check out that flexibility?”

      “First I need to ask, are you seeing anyone else?”

      “Does it matter?” He wasn’t at the moment. But nor was he ready to commit to exclusivity, not when he’d just met the girl.

      “Condoms. You said you were clean, but if you’re getting it on with someone else, we ought to use protection.”

      She was right. But it would feel so damned good, going bareback, feeling all that tight, hot flesh of hers wrapped around him. “Nah, I’m not seeing anyone.”

      “No? What about that blonde?”

      Blonde? He thought back. “You mean that Scandinavian– looking girl with the white-blond hair? No, I’ve never gone out with her.” Only because he’d dumped Scandinavia for China.

      “White-blond?” She gave a snort. “Try, overbleached. No, that’s not the one I meant. I’m talking about the strawberry blonde who was wrapped all around you. Lizzie?”

      “Lizzie?” He chuckled. “That’s my sister. She was hugging me because she was excited I’d won. She’d helped put together my routine.”

      “Nice of her.” And it explained why his act was more subtle, less raunchy, than the others.

      “Yeah. So, anyhow, let’s forget condoms, okay? Unless you’re…?”

      “Great, we’ll skip them.” She paused again, longer this time. “Scott?” Her voice had gone sultry. “When you rescue someone from a fire, d’you ever get a special reward?”

      “Huh?” He really couldn’t keep up with this girl’s brain. “Nah, we’re just doing our jobs.”

      “If you rescued me, I’d want to reward you.” Her voice was throaty, sexy. “In fact, I’d want to strip off your turnout gear, then the clothes underneath. And then I’d want to wrap my hair and my hands and my mouth around that sexy, big dick of yours. Does that sound like a fair reward?”

      “Oh, man!” His cock was voting yes under the fly of his jeans. “If you’re ever in a fire, be sure I’m the one you call.”

      She chuckled. “Actually, Scott, it’s more of a fantasy. I guess you’d call it a rescue fantasy. You rescue me and you get a reward.”

      “A fantasy?” What was she saying?

      “I have a lot of fantasies.” She drew the last word out into a seductive whisper. “Want me to tell you another one?”

      He ran his hand over his throbbing cock, then surrendered, unzipped his jeans and eased it out. Imagining her hands, her mouth, he wrapped his own fist around it. “God, yeah, tell me another.”

      “You know that dance you did on stage? I want you to dance it for me. Just me. In that tux outfit. I’ll even loan you back the bow tie. Then I want you to strip, to the music, just for me.”

      His brain was saying she was crazy, but his cock disagreed. It thought she was damned hot. “You’re one kinky girl.” His mouth was dry and the words came out hoarse.

      “You saying you don’t have any fantasies, Mr. Firefighter?”

      Crap. None that he’d confess to. And definitely not to pumping his own cock while a pretty girl talked to him on the phone. “Nah.”

      “Liar. Tell you what. You dance for me, I’ll dance for you.”

      “Dance?”

      “Pole dancing. Using the fire pole at the fire hall some night when everyone’s asleep.”

      She’d fuck the fire pole, just like his hand was fucking his cock now. She’d get all hot and wet doing it. He’d get hard as that pole, like he was now. Dripping a little with need. Then she’d come to him and he’d be inside her, her muscles pumping him the way his hand was doing now, and he’d feel the pressure building uncontrollably and…

      He’d explode. Like his cock had exploded now, jetting warm cum all over his belly. Jesus.

      “Scott?”

      If she knew, would she be turned on or think he was some kind of pervert?

      The spasms died down, the tension eased from his body. “Okay, Jenny, now I do have a fantasy. I wanna see you twining around that fire pole, just for me.”

      “You make my fire-rescue fantasy come true tonight, and I’ll owe you one.”

      Make


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