Fun With a Fireman by Daniella Divine Page B

but the
thing is I knew I needed to get out of there pretty damn quick. My
experience is that when a wife catches you in bed with her husband,
she tends to cross you off her Christmas card list pretty quick.
And then she is likely to come after you with a carving knife. So I
made a grab for my bra and panties and got them on in double quick
time. Ben was hopping around with one leg inside his pants, trying
to pull them on in a major league panic. But it was a case of more
haste and less speed. He tripped and fell flat on his face. He took
advantage of his horizontal position to get his pants on and zipped
up, and made a grab for his shirt.
    ‘Angel, you’ve got to get out of here before she
finds us.’
    ‘Yeah, Einstein. I’d worked that out already. How do
I get out of here? Is there a back door?’
    Ben shook his head while he buttoned his shirt. ‘No
time for that. She will be coming up the stairs any second. You’ll
have to go out the window and down the fire escape.’
    I tried to pick up my blouse, but Ben was quicker
and he scooped up all my clothes and shoved them to my chest,
together with my shoes. ‘You don’t have time to get dressed. You
have to go now before she comes upstairs.
    ‘Excuse me? Are you nuts? I’m not going down the
fire escape in my underwear!’
    ‘Listen Angel, if you don’t, she’ll throw you down.
My wife is not the kind of woman you want to cross. Do you
understand?’
    ‘I…I…I…oh, fuck! Just get me out of here.’
    Ben peered cautiously out of the window and gave me
a running commentary. ‘She’s coming up the drive. Now she’s opening
the front door. She’s inside. That’s it. You need to go right now.
Quick! You’ve got about thirty seconds to make an exit.’
    So that’s how I found myself crawling through a sash
window in my bra and panties onto the ricketiest fire escape I had
ever seen. Man, don’t they have fire regulations in England, or
what? The fire escape was a very old and rusty metal staircase with
short flights of steel steps that zigzagged down to the ground,
five floors below. I didn’t fancy going down it at all, but the
alternative was to crawl back through the window and face an angry
wife armed with a carving knife.
    The rickety stairs won.
    I clutched my clothes against my chest with one hand
and grabbed the guard rail with the other. Even though it was only
late afternoon, it was wet and cold. I could see goose pimples
rising on the flesh of my arms and legs. But that was the least of
my worries. I had to get safely out of sight in a hurry, and then
find somewhere where I could get dressed before I got arrested.
    And that was when it happened.
    Disaster.
    I had tip-toed down one flight of steps and was
starting on the next when I heard an ominous groaning sound and the
whole fire escape staircase began to shake. I got the impression
that no-one had ventured out onto this structure anytime in the
last century, probably for very good safety reasons. But there was
no point in going back…I had to go on. I took another step
downwards…and then another. The sound of twisted and groaning metal
increased.
    And then there was a ‘snap.’
    I don’t know what snapped exactly, but I guess it
was the rivets or bolts that held the metal staircase to the wall.
What I do know for sure is that the fire escape suddenly
swung outwards, tearing away from the building and lurching several
yards away from the perpendicular. I was jolted against the guard
rail and my clothes and shoes were thrown out of my hand. I gripped
the rail for dear life, and watched my clothes tumble down to the
ground far below.
    I was expecting the whole fire escape to collapse
and follow my clothes to the concrete. To my relief, however, it
jammed in mid-air, leaving me hanging several floors above the
ground. I’m scared of heights at the best of times. Right now, I
was absolutely terrified.
    Down below, I saw an old man with a dog staring up
at me. He looked a little