Mucking around with another contemporary, which is an expansion of a short story that didn’t suit the market I sent it to. Kind of nice to be back on my old stomping ground, so to speak. I miss the days of making that instant difference in someone’s life, where the tone of your voice alone could change the outcome of a call. Dropping into smashed cars with a blanket underneath you to protect yourself from glass, holding c-spine, everyone working as one unit to get someone out of a bad situation.
“We safe?” shouted one of the paramedics, a blond guy about the size of Cody’s thigh.
“Soon as Rescue finishes bracing it,” Anguilo shouted back.
One of the Rescue crew stepped away from the car. “You’re good.”
“Rock on. Gimme a boost.” The paramedic jogged up to the car, bright orange bag swinging from one hand, and a standard-issue polyester blanket in the other. His partner followed behind with the stretcher, its straps wrapped around more bright orange bags and an oxygen tank. The first medic tossed the bag and the blanket on top of the uptilted vehicle and looked around, his eyes falling on Cory. “You look like a sturdy lad. Come here.” He grabbed Cody’s sleeve and pulled him back over to the SUV. “Put your hands together and lift me up on top.”
Cody gaped at him, then the penny dropped and he laced his fingers together, holding them out like a step.
The paramedic patted him on the shoulder. “You’re new, right? I’m Seth.” He put his foot in Cody’s cupped hands. “Alley-oop!”
A short story I wrote as a donation to a fundraising anthology. I’m not sure if the antho is still going forward, but if it doesn’t, I think I’ll take this one and bump up the wordcount on it. It’s cute, and there’s potential for a lot more cuteness, with an awkward firefighter and his paramedic love interest.
Seth walked in. The flutter in Cody’s stomach turned into full blown nervous twitches and he turned his back on the man to hide his reaction. He’d always thought he was straight, until two months ago. Until the day Seth, with his blond hair and lean, compact frame had transferred to Cody’s station. Now, every time he saw the man, his body bluntly informed him that he wasn’t nearly as straight as he’d thought.
“Morning, gentlemen. How was your night?” Seth’s voice sent shivers up Cody’s spine. He pressed his lips together to avoid answering, since he was pretty sure he’d say something stupid, and pretended to wipe down the already spotless countertop.
Gene threw him a frustrated glance and answered Seth. “Typical Tuesday. Quiet for us, and all the usual suspects for the not-a-docs.”
“Nothing wrong with not being a doctor,” Seth replied. Cody could hear the humor in his voice. “Who wants to spend that much money to be an old fuddy-duddy, right, Cody?” He’d moved closer. Seth smelled like shampoo and a little fabric softener. It made Cody’s nerves sing, in both a good and a bad way. He wanted to pull the smaller man close and just breath him in, but the idea of coming out in a room full of firefighters, when he wasn’t even sure this wasn’t just a phase, made his knees weak.
The silence stretched, until Cody croaked out, “Yeah, right.” He turned and brushed past Seth. “Shift’s over. Let’s go get that anniversary present.” He was out the door with his backpack in record speed, cursing himself for being an awkward son of a bitch.
That was a bit longer than I realized it when I copied it…
My firefighter, paramedic, genie short. Lol. The Erotica writers of Absolute Write are at it again–another anthology to support the forum. This time, we’re working on the colours red, blue, green, and black. I’m thinking about throwing another one in for black, but it’s a side-story from something else I’m working on and I’m not sure what I want to do with it yet.
So, Cody doesn’t know he’s purchased a genie in a dusty old bottle. He washes it and…
“Damn soap.” He rinsed the bottle off, dried the stopper, and braced it between his knees. This time, the stopper slid out easily. Too easily, because he nearly punched himself in the face. Standing straight again, he turned the stopper over and frowned at the foggy crystal.
“Well, you didn’t think I was going to let you open it while it was in the sink, do you? That would be all I’d need—a century of being stuck in my bottle, ended by the equivalent of a biblical flood. With soap. Yuck.”
Cody dropped the bottle and spun around. The bottle hit the floor, but instead of breaking, it bounced twice and settled sturdily on its base. He looked up from that amazing circumstance to see something even more amazing.
Standing in the middle of his kitchen was a man. A short, slender man wearing a bright orange shirt that stopped inches above the waist of his ragged skinny jeans and, incongruously, a pair of two hundred dollar sneakers. His scorching red hair was clipped on one side and long enough on the other to fall over his eyes. The guy grinned and waved cheerily at him. “Well, maybe not entirely a century. Sure felt like it, though. Boring in there.”