Page 49 of The Fireman and the Flirt

This was so unprofessional. And so worth it.

15

DEREK

“Someone looks awfully happy to be here.” Xavier, my fire captain, gave me a quizzical look as we pulled our fire truck into the elementary school parking lot.

“It’s my first school visit,” I said.

“Get ready for lots and lots of questions and at least one kid who will have a meltdown.”

I gave him a thumbs up. I was a fireman. I was used to being prepared for unforeseen circumstances. Like, for instance, getting a blow job while house hunting.

“There you go again. Smiling like a schmuck.” Xavier had combed over silver hair and a big mustache that commanded attention.

“Why do you care if I’m smiling?” I shoved him in the friendliest of ways.

He wasn’t the first person to comment on my facial expressions over the past two days. It was hard not to smile when I kept flashing back to that shower with Cary. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d read about in the letter and how turned on it got me. After our shower rendezvous, I went home and reread his letter, this time with a clearer picture, and jerked off into a sock. Luckily, Russ was always doing laundry.

Cary’s nervousness while showing me the house was its own form of foreplay. There was this unspeakable sexual tension between us, and I fucking had to do something about it or else I’d never find a house.

Sure, things might be weird between us in the short term, but we were adults. We had to get it out of our systems so we could continue to work together. That was that. The tightening in my pants at the mere thought of Cary would eventually subside.

“We’re here,” Xavier said.

We all filed out of the truck. Kids watched us from the school windows as if we were superheroes. I stood up straighter and puffed out my chest a little bit more to live up to their expectations.

“I have two ground rules.” Xavier rounded us up in a circle and held up one finger. “One, no cursing in front of the kids. That goes for your shits and your fucks, but I also mean hell and damn and ass. Anything you wouldn’t get caught saying in church. One time, a guy accidentally utteredmotherfuckerwhen he was trying to turn on the hose, and it spread through the school like smallpox. I had an interesting conversation with the principal.”

We all chuckled at his story. Kids didn’t pay attention to ninety-nine percent of things you said, but they had the uncanny ability to hear every curse word. Most of Jolene’s blue vocabulary probably came from me.

Xavier held up his second finger. “Two, no flirting with the PTA moms.”

“C’mon!” groaned Kelly, the guy next to me.

“I mean it. The last thing we need is one of you getting distracted.”

“Is that something that actually happens?” I asked.

“You better believe it, Hogan.” Xavier pointed at me. “And you in particular better be careful. A widowed fireman is like spilling droplets of blood in a shark-infested tank. Keep it in the pants. This is a school presentation, not last call.”

Obviously, Xavier had these rules in place because of past experiences. Still, I gulped down an awkward lump in my throat. Should I tell him that PTA dads might be more of my flavor at the moment?

We went over the plan for today. Some of the guys on the squad had done a million of these and weren’t paying close attention. As a volunteer, I’d only done a handful, so I needed the refresher. We would give kids tours of the fire truck and go over our presentation on fire safety. Depending on time, we would demonstrate how to use a fire extinguisher and even show off spraying the fire hose. These were things we did everyday, but it was fun watching how excited the children got. It reminded me that being a fireman was a cool job.

Classes filed out of the school into the parking lot. Kids’ eyes went wide at the truck. We stood in a line behind Xavier who gave a fun introduction. He took on a little bit of a drill sergeant tone, calling the kids recruits that were being entrusted with very important duties. For as much of a hard ass as he could be on the job, the guy was having a ball here.

I also got what Xavier was saying about staying away from PTA moms. They stood in the back, and two were flat-out eyefucking me. Fortunately, as the token PTA dads, Russ and Cal were there, too. Josh and Quentin were mixed into their class. I gave them stealth winks.

We broke out into groups and had classes rotate among different stations. Some of the firemen gave truck tours, some gave fire safety demonstrations, and I was in the group that got to give first aid lessons and use the fire hose.

Our group was the favorite of the kids, naturally.

Xavier and I showed how to properly treat a burn. We demonstrated wrapping bandages and cleaning out wounds.

Quentin’s hand shot up. “We already learned this in the Falcons. When can we play with the fire hose?”

Russ tapped his son on the shoulder as a warning. “Quentin, you can never have too much first aid training.”

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