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 Fireman  (2 ratings)by Stephen W. Cote Tanned skin dusky with soot, wearing Thick black trousers wrapped like Armor around his hips, appeared like a mountain. Athletic chest, bare with sweat slightly glistening, Flexed while lugging a coiled hose on his shoulder. He drops it when his eyes meet yours, his chiseled features accented by the noon sun, And other interests in you are apparent. A yawn, so plays out your coy disinterest, And you fan hot summer air from your cheeks, Hoping he doesn?t fuck it up and speak, Like all guys seem to do. This callow prick has the audacity to kneel and take your hand, which is not the language your body spoke to him yet was exactly what you wanted him to do. He leans closer until his smoky skin mingles with your perfume. Teeth gleaming pearly white, and his breath is fresh and faintly minty, when he offers you a blunt, manly smile from a square and stoic jaw. A thick, muscular hand touches your thigh ? no, wait, you?re day-dreaming, it touched your eye, as a lash had become stuck. Your bodice is tight as your heart races, and that smoldering Need leaves you with only one thing to say ...
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