Chapter 7
Evrard
Joelle invites me over for dinner the Saturday after the wedding.
The day of our dinner, I am distracted all through my shift, knowing that I will be spending the evening with her.
After work, I head home and strip immediately, getting into the shower to wash the day off.
After rinsing myself down, I stand under the water and let the hot stream pelt against my neck.
I don't know how I lucked out to stumble upon someone so willing to play a part in order to make my grandmother happy, but Joelle is an incredible woman.
Incredible and an absolute knockout with delicious curves I wish I could explore.
The mere thought of how she looked last weekend at the wedding in her form-hugging blue dress makes me hard.
And I decide to succumb to it, squirting body wash into my hand and taking my cock, stroking it as I picture what she would look like slipping that blue dress off in front of me.
Her heavy tits falling when the bra is thrown across the room, then watching her shimmy out of her panties, standing in front of me completely naked.
My strokes pick up as I imagine her playfully pushing me onto the bed, leaning over as she undoes my pants and yanks them off.
She makes quick work of my clothes, and now I too am as naked as her as she straddles me, wetting the head of my cock with her pussy.
I picture entering her as she bounces on top of me, her large tits looking delicious and suckable. Grabbing her round ass, I help her slam down on me, which sends me over the edge as I groan loudly, my seed spilling into the swirling water below.
"Goddamn!"
I rinse once more as I catch my breath. This woman intrigues me in a way I have not felt in ages.
And I actually think I like it.
Entering Joelle's home, delicious smells instantly meet my nose.
"You're a cook too?" I say as I follow her into the kitchen.
"Sort of. I'm decent," she says, offering me a spoonful of the sauce bubbling on the stovetop.
"Holy hell," I moan, stepping back as I take a taste off the wooden spoon. "This is amazing!"
She grins up at me with slight crinkles at the corners of her beautiful hazel eyes.
"I'm going to bottle up that reaction," she says with a soft giggle.
"Do you use magic while cooking?" I ask, pouring us glasses of wine.
"A little with vegetables and fruits. I can punch up the flavor a bit."
"That's really cool, you know."
"Thank you," Joelle says, looking shyly away. "But what you do is cool as well. Well, more than cool. Amazing. Risking your life the way you do."
"I enjoy it. I grew up wanting to be a firefighter, so I guess it is a dream job."
During dinner, the conversation is easy with her.
There's something about Joelle that disarms my defenses, and I find it easy to laugh with her.
I had that ability with my wife briefly, but it was short-lived.
And then I spent the next few years lying to myself that I would somehow find it again, but failing to do so.
On the drive back to my place, I roll down the windows and breathe in the chilly spring evening air. I don't know what to do with myself because it's obvious I am falling for her.
But she's just being kind and doing me a favor.
Laughing at something dumb Jake just said, I take a bite of my sandwich right as the alarm sounds.
We drop our food and run to the apparatus bay.
I throw on my turnout pants and gear and jump into the truck while tossing on my jacket.
Captain Walters confirms the address, and my heart sinks into my stomach when I hear the street name. Bradford.
Shit. That's the same road Joelle lives on.
The truck wails down the streets as I try to focus and not worry about Joelle. When we arrive, I see that it's a house just a few doors down from hers. Our captain makes a quick size-up. We grab our tools and hose lines off the truck, then I mask up with my SCBA face piece, activating the airflow.
Jake forces entry, and we crawl low into the smoky interior following the hose line. My teammates and I search for anybody trapped, but the house appears empty. Visibility is basically zero with all the heavy smoke.
After twenty minutes, my SCBA low-air alarm sounds, showing just 25% remaining.
Shit. There's something wrong with this unit.
I head back to the front, but I run out of air before I reach the exit and have to take it off, exposing myself to the super-heated smoke. I stumble outside, gripping my tightening chest, and beeline it to Captain Walters.
Immediately, he waves over the paramedics, who work on me in the front yard with the ambulance just a few yards away.
"Rest here. I'm getting you some water," one says as she rushes off.
Waiting, I look across the street, and a familiar shock of auburn hair catches my eye.