with Lia? Because the “more” that I’m envisioning is a hell of a lot more than just throwing her over my shoulder and pleasuring her body all night long. No, it’s so much more. Fuck.
Guys in my line of work do it all the time, I understand that. They have the family at home, the dog, the mortgage, and the baseball practices. But, I’ve seen what happens when the wife receives that knock on the door, telling her that her husband is never coming home again. I’ve held the hysterical woman while she screams for her husband and ignores the truth. I can’t do it. I won’t do it. If I love someone enough, I have to let them go to live their own life.
I slip back inside the car and drive along the path. I park next to the shack and walk around to help Lia out. With her hand securely inside of mine, I lead her towards the old building so we can get the chairs. It’s the perfect summer night to sit outside. Sure, a little on the humid side, but humidity has never really bothered me before. And apparently, it doesn’t bother Lia too much either.
Once the chairs are sitting in the dirt as close as possible along the creek bank, Lia and I both relax and enjoy the quiet. Crickets chirp and frogs croak. The occasional fish jumps in the shallow water of the creek.
“When you were little, what was your dream?” I ask, breaking the silence that has surrounded us for the past ten minutes or so.
Lia is quiet for several beats before responding. “When I was little, I wanted to be a teacher,” she says.
“A teacher? I can see that.”
“I wanted to teach early education like preschool or kindergarten. There was something magical about connecting with children and helping them learn to become better adults. When I was young, I used to sit in my little room and teach the few stuffed animals or dolls that I had. I’d set them on my bed and teach them everything I had just learned from my own teacher.”
Lia leans over and places her hand inside of mine. It’s like she finds comfort in my touch. Maybe even strength. I sense that she’s had a rough past, I can see it in the way she avoids talking about it. I sense that there is so much more to Lia than what meets the eye.
“What about you? What was your dream when you were younger?”
“I’ve always wanted to be a fireman for as far back as I can remember. I used to talk Jake into setting fire to small piles of brush in the backyard. Then, I’d swoop in with my bucket of water or the garden hose and put them out. I was all of ten years old, maybe.”
“I can definitely see you running around with that cute little hat on and pretending to be a firefighter,” Lia says with a smile.
“I owned that damn hat. Got me all the chicks in elementary school,” I chuckle.
Lia laughs from the seat next to me. “Maybe you’ll have to show me the hat and let me be the judge of that,” she replies. The air around us crackles. The laughter and the lightness fade away. In its place is smoldering ambers of desire, waiting for that little spark to ignite the entire place, sending it up in flames.
“I’ll tell you what, next time you’re in St. Charles, stop by the firehouse and I’ll show you my hat.” I lean closer, my mouth just a whisper away from her ear. I can smell the flowers in her shampoo and the sweetness of her lotion. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll even show you my pole.”
Lia makes a noise; a throaty choking sound that shoots straight to my groin. The air is so thick, it’s a struggle to suck each breath into my lungs. I lean just a fraction of an inch closer until my mouth is touching her ear. “And don’t forget about my hose. I have lots and lots of hose,” I whisper as my breath fans out against her.
Lia turns ever so slightly until I can see her wild eyes. Eyes that are filled with raging desire. The deep gray swirls around like a tornado, ready to devour anything or anyone in its path. And I
Guys in my line of work do it all the time, I understand that. They have the family at home, the dog, the mortgage, and the baseball practices. But, I’ve seen what happens when the wife receives that knock on the door, telling her that her husband is never coming home again. I’ve held the hysterical woman while she screams for her husband and ignores the truth. I can’t do it. I won’t do it. If I love someone enough, I have to let them go to live their own life.
I slip back inside the car and drive along the path. I park next to the shack and walk around to help Lia out. With her hand securely inside of mine, I lead her towards the old building so we can get the chairs. It’s the perfect summer night to sit outside. Sure, a little on the humid side, but humidity has never really bothered me before. And apparently, it doesn’t bother Lia too much either.
Once the chairs are sitting in the dirt as close as possible along the creek bank, Lia and I both relax and enjoy the quiet. Crickets chirp and frogs croak. The occasional fish jumps in the shallow water of the creek.
“When you were little, what was your dream?” I ask, breaking the silence that has surrounded us for the past ten minutes or so.
Lia is quiet for several beats before responding. “When I was little, I wanted to be a teacher,” she says.
“A teacher? I can see that.”
“I wanted to teach early education like preschool or kindergarten. There was something magical about connecting with children and helping them learn to become better adults. When I was young, I used to sit in my little room and teach the few stuffed animals or dolls that I had. I’d set them on my bed and teach them everything I had just learned from my own teacher.”
Lia leans over and places her hand inside of mine. It’s like she finds comfort in my touch. Maybe even strength. I sense that she’s had a rough past, I can see it in the way she avoids talking about it. I sense that there is so much more to Lia than what meets the eye.
“What about you? What was your dream when you were younger?”
“I’ve always wanted to be a fireman for as far back as I can remember. I used to talk Jake into setting fire to small piles of brush in the backyard. Then, I’d swoop in with my bucket of water or the garden hose and put them out. I was all of ten years old, maybe.”
“I can definitely see you running around with that cute little hat on and pretending to be a firefighter,” Lia says with a smile.
“I owned that damn hat. Got me all the chicks in elementary school,” I chuckle.
Lia laughs from the seat next to me. “Maybe you’ll have to show me the hat and let me be the judge of that,” she replies. The air around us crackles. The laughter and the lightness fade away. In its place is smoldering ambers of desire, waiting for that little spark to ignite the entire place, sending it up in flames.
“I’ll tell you what, next time you’re in St. Charles, stop by the firehouse and I’ll show you my hat.” I lean closer, my mouth just a whisper away from her ear. I can smell the flowers in her shampoo and the sweetness of her lotion. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll even show you my pole.”
Lia makes a noise; a throaty choking sound that shoots straight to my groin. The air is so thick, it’s a struggle to suck each breath into my lungs. I lean just a fraction of an inch closer until my mouth is touching her ear. “And don’t forget about my hose. I have lots and lots of hose,” I whisper as my breath fans out against her.
Lia turns ever so slightly until I can see her wild eyes. Eyes that are filled with raging desire. The deep gray swirls around like a tornado, ready to devour anything or anyone in its path. And I
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