Page 54 of The Fireman and the Flirt

“Shit,” I whispered again. I pulled my knees up to my chest, hiding my most vulnerable bits. I caught a glimpse of my naked self in the mirror and realized just how unhinged I looked. The haze of lust quickly faded, replaced with cold, hard reality.

“Be careful,” said a man who I presumed to be the aforementioned daddy. Not the daddy I was expecting. “Don’t touch the walls, baby.”

“Pastor, this house is less than a mile from your church, too,” the female agent said.

I clenched my eyes shut. As if there weren’t enough reasons why uber-religious people hated gays. My unclothed ass was going to set the queer movement back thirty years.

“I wanna see my bedroom!” screamed the little girl.

Fuck. I had to get the hell out of here.

I stood up slowly in the tub. I glanced at myself in the mirror. Hmm, I really had been making progress with my squats. My quads looked great. There was nice muscle definition coming in.

For fuck’s sake, Cary, now is not the time.

I stepped out of the tub, placing one foot then the other delicately onto the tiled floor. My pile of clothes were stashed under the sink.

Out in the hall, I heard the adults milling about in the dining room with the little girl skipping around in her future bedroom. I opened the cabinet under the sink. My shoes clomped onto the floor, unleashing a slight echo. Fortunately, it seemed the sound was covered up by the hubbub elsewhere in the house.

For the sake of time, I’d have to freeball. No seconds could be wasted on underwear.

I unfolded my pants. My belt buckle clanged against the counter, the metal making an unmistakably loud sound.

“Shit.”

“Hello?” yelled the little girl.

“Lizzie, where are you going?” asked the mom as I tried to step into my pants. My legs were shaking with nerves, and I kept missing.

“I heard something! Come with me!” the little girl insisted.

I tried to unfold my shirt and put it on while dealing with my pants. My car keys slid out of the pants pocket and clanged against the floor. Gravity was not on my side, which hurt because I thought Isaac Newton was a homosexual.

“Mommy, come look with me!”

“Did you hear something?” the pastor asked.

“We can go check out the bedrooms,” said the real estate agent. Why did she have to kowtow to her clients’ requests? Why couldn’t she push back?

My limbs were shaking. My heart rattled in my ears. I did not have the coordination to get dressed. I could hide in a closet, but this place had a walk-in that the clients would surely want to check out.

The footsteps got louder. Closer.

Fight or flight took over. I spotted the window over the bathtub.

I balled my clothes up.

“You have three bedrooms. These two will share a bathroom. And then down here we have the main bedroom.”

Show them the hall closet! Show them the fuse box! Do your job!

I pushed up the window. Frigid air blasted my skin. I threw my ball of clothes into the open air. A full breath entered my lungs.

“This is going to be your bedroom, Mommy and Daddy!” the little girl screamed, her voice loud and piercing.

In one swift move that should’ve qualified me for the Olympics, I launched myself out of the window. For a brief second, I was airborne, weightless. And then I landed in a bush.

The prickly leaves broke my fall. I tumbled onto the grass.

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