Molly:
It was the smoke alarm that woke me up. The incessant beeping wasn't loud, but it was just annoying enough to wake me out of my usually deep slumber. I pushed the covers down and fumbled to find my glasses on the nightstand. I was still groggy, so the danger hadn't fully registered yet. When it did, I didn't think about the fact that the only clothes I had on were a stretchy tank top and my comfy bikini panties. I grabbed my cell phone, slid my feet into a mismatched pair of flip flops, and rushed to my bedroom door. I remembered, in time, to feel of the door before opening it. Luckily, it was cool to the touch, but the front room was starting to get smoky. I cracked open the front door and the third floor landing was full of smoke. I'd have to go out the fire escape. I was the only resident on the top floor of my small apartment building. I grabbed a sweatshirt that was strewn on the back of the couch as I reached the back door leading out to the fire escape. I heard sirens approaching as I picked my way down the cold metal stairs.
James:
The call had come in a few minutes before my shift ended and I'd just gotten out of the shower. A fire in a three-story apartment building on Sycamore, currently still contained to the ground floor apartment where it had begun. I'd thrown on my boxers, a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, layered on my gear, and hopped in the truck within two minutes of the call. We were seven minutes away. I gazed out into the night, seeing the city skyline glowing in the distance. My adrenaline had started pumping already.
Molly:
I felt like a fool. I was standing in the cool spring night in my underwear. Literally. I didn't know if I should put the sweatshirt on or wrap it around my waist. I settled for putting it on—it was almost long enough to cover my ass. I'd met my neighbors and we were all standing on the sidewalk when the fire fighters arrived. We'd assured them that everyone was accounted for—the other apartment on my floor was vacant, Mrs. Ogden and the Short family on floor 2 were huddled in the group, and the gay couple from the first floor were certain that they'd seen the other first floor resident leave for his night shift job earlier in the evening. Still, I guess, they had to check. And put the fire out, of course. Not far behind the fire fighters and the other emergency vehicles were the news reporters. Great. My fat ass on the 6am news.
James:
We put the fire out quickly. All residents were accounted for. The gay couple admitted they'd had a number of candles burning and "might've" fallen asleep. They were woken by the flames and immediately called 911. It took hours, however, for the building to be deemed structurally sound. Fire and water damage to the first floor made it uninhabitable. The second floor suffered extensive smoke damage. Luckily for the half naked girl, the third floor wasn't too bad. Everything would smell like smoke, of course. But she'd be able to get in there and find some pants. I'd caught a peek of what was barely covered by those white lacy panties and was impressed to see so much ass on a white girl. She looked like a sexy, nerdy, bad ass, with the lace, tattoos, short spiky hair, and thick rimmed glasses. She chewed on her lower lip and kept looking at her phone.
Molly:
Why wasn't Jill answering her phone? I sighed and chewed on my lip. My sister is as heavy a sleeper as I am. Where the hell am I going to stay tonight? One of the fire fighters told me I could go upstairs as soon the "all clear" was given—at least I'd have some pants—but it was looking like a night in a hotel for me. I didn't want to stay in the building alone, especially with the smoky smell. I was tired of standing but didn't want to sit my barely covered ass on the rough sidewalk. Wish the EMTs would offer me a blanket or something. They're useless. And the reporters had already left. Oh, wow, are all my fire fighter fantasies coming true? Look at him...tall, chocolate complexion, and look at the way that t-shirt hugs his biceps. And I look at hot mess. Shit, here he comes.
James:
"Hi, are you Molly Thompson?"
"Um, yes, that's me," she said. Was she blushing? It was too dark to tell.
"Hi Molly, I'm James Dillon. I'd offer you a blanket, but I'd have to hunt one down. They told me to escort you upstairs, so I'm sure you have something you can put on there."
"Of course, thank you Mr. Dillon."
He stepped closer to her. Yep, she's blushing.
"Call me James," I said, "You ready?"
She nodded.
Molly:
Lord help me, James is hot. His deep voice was sexy, even when he was pointing out the fact I didn't have pants on. I chuckled. Maybe that makes it sexier. We walked side-by-side to the front door and he motioned for me to walk ahead of him.
"It's safe, I promise," James said, placing his hand on the small of my back to lead me upstairs, "It's mostly smoke and water damage down here. Your floor should be fine."
I felt his hand through the layers of my clothing and shivered.
Somehow, I made it up two flights of stairs, knowing he was in the perfect position to see my fat ass in my barely-there panties. He opened the door of my apartment for me and stuck his head in before allowing me to walk ahead once again. The smoke detector was still beeping.
