How Do Firemen Make Love (Flame On) by Dréa Riley Page B

chief….”

 
     
     
     
    How Do Firemen Make Love?
    by
    Dr é a Riley and Laura Guevara

 
    Dréa dropped her head to her hands and swung her feet. The stocky bald guy was grilling her like she was a prime steak, and the rest of the crew were staring at all the hunky firemen going to and fro. Today was never going to end. What a fucking time to try to quit smoking. Shit . This was supposed to be fun, not another episode of “Dréa did it.” But it wasn’t her fault—this time.
    “Ohmigosh, dude, I keep telling you, it wasn’t my fault,” she said on a deep, soulful sigh.
    Jeanie and Jayha must’ve had those sonic big sister ears on, because at that point they both looked over at her askance. Their ability to sense her distress never ceased to amaze her. As big sisters went, they were the best.
    Jeanie cocked an eyebrow and flicked her cigarette before rolling her neck and making a move to stand. It was only Jayha’s slight throat clearing that stopped her. Clearly, Jeanie was about to intervene and find out why the LVFD wasn’t taking Dréa’s story at face value.
    “Dréa, are you all right?” Jayha called in that deceitfully calm, accent-less voice. She enunciated each of the words in a way that let any listener know she meant business, no matter that the words themselves weren’t threatening.
    The rest of the crew continued with their perusal of the hotness parade that was more commonly known as the Vegas fire department. To the untrained eye, the women were merely milling about. But Dréa knew they were all waiting. Ready to come to her defense, kick ass, do some serious cussing, whatever the situation required. These folks didn’t really seem to understand who they were messing with. Though you’d think they’d remember that time a few years back when a certain toupee-wearing mogul had gotten cussed out right out on the Strip in front of God and everyone.
    “I’m on it.” Laura bounded from her position in the middle of the seven other women. The Posse tended to rally around Shara and Laura, considering they were so short—er, vertically challenged. Couldn’t risk losing them in a crowd.   Laura and Dréa were the two youngest members of the Posse’s inner sanctum, so they were normally stuck together like glue. Laura was sometimes able to use the difference in their ages, a mere few months, to pull rank on the Posse cannonball and talk her out of a few of her more dangerous endeavors.
    Laura made the short walk to Dréa’s side look like it was a mile-long runway. Several of the firemen stopped mid-stride to watch the curvy Latina sashay to a beat only she could hear. Dréa would have laughed out loud if she wasn’t concentrating on which one of the firemen she wanted to hook her best friend up with. None of the gawkers really seemed worthy.
    “ Hola ,” Laura’s slightly accented voice tinkled as she drew near.
    “Hey, chiquita, ¿qué pasa? ”
    “Oh my God, you just damn near blew up a hotel, and you’re gonna ask me what’s up. Dréa, I swear.”
    “Hey, can it! First, I didn’t almost blow it up. It was just a small gooey fireball thingy. And second, it wasn’t like I was trying to do it. And third, it wasn’t my fault, must be some shitty wiring or something, ‘cause I was a good foot from the damn thing. I was just playing with that new lighter Jeanie scored me and wondering when we were gonna eat. I heard Jayha saying how it was hot, so I went to adjust the thing; I had to look at it for a minute. I mean who has things like that anymore? How come it didn’t have any buttons?   Or a digital readout?   I was using my lighter to read the little numbers, then WHAMO! Flaming alien snot all up on my boot. Man, I loved these boots. Those were originals. One of a kind! What am I gonna do, and when are we gonna eat? Go ask Jeanie if I can have a cigarette.”
    “NO!”
    Wow, seven sets of voices rang out. Dréa should have known the other ladies were listening. Funny, they