I can’t believe I went home without her last night. Every few seconds, I think about her kiss. I can still feel her palm against my chest, tempting me. If only her friend hadn’t ruined the evening…

Oddly enough, she left her phone at the booth. It must have slipped out of her purse right before she took off.

Here I am, getting all giddy about having a woman’s cell phone. It’s not like me to get excited over one woman. I know that she’ll call soon enough. When she does, I’ll be there to pick up the phone and then we can finally go on that date.

I still have an image of her in my head from last night. She was wearing that tight-fitting skirt. It’s the type of skirt that splits right down the center. Every time I think about it, I feel my cock thicken.

I go outside for a second, drink my first cup of coffee for the day, and then I hear that phone ring.

“Shit,” I mutter.

I run back inside, spilling coffee all over my clean, white shirt. I make an exasperated noise and drop the cup onto my carpet.

“This is not my day,” I sigh.

I run back inside and realize that it’s not actually her phone ringing. It’s mine. I grab it and press the green button.

“Eric, man,” I sigh. “What’s up?”

“You’ll never guess who just called me,” he says.

“I can only imagine,” I laugh. “Trump?”

“No, you idiot. It was the New York Times,” he says.

“The newspaper? You’re kidding,” I say.

“No joke,” he says.

“Well, what the hell do they want to talk to you about?” I ask.

“Everything and more. They want to feature us in the next online issue,” he says.

His voice is excited, but I feel a sense of dread creep into my stomach.

“This sounds like bad news,” I say.

“Bad news? Why are you so against doing this? Is this because that hot chick left without you last night? Look, man. Don’t sweat it. That shit always happens to me. This is much bigger than that,” he says.

“Nah, man. It’s not about that. This is not good news. Think for a second. What do you reckon they want to talk to you about?” I ask him.

He pauses. “Our bravery,” he says.

“They want to talk to us about the fire,” I interrupt. “They don’t give a shit about our bravery. They want to know what happened that night. You know. They want to hear from our perspective.”

I can hear him talk a deep breath. His hurried footsteps pause to think. “Well, maybe it’s time we talk about it,” he says.

My voice gets more rough when i realize how little I can trust Eric.

“And then what? We’ll lose all privacy again. I want you to think for one second about this. You’re involving me in something I want no part in,” I say.

“Maybe I don’t give a shit about privacy,” he says.

“Do you think talking to some uppity reporter is about to bring her back?” I growl.

He breathes heavy into the receiver. I know I’ve taken it too far. I shouldn’t have brought that memory back.

“I’m sorry, man,” I say. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Someday soon. We’re going to have to face what happened. We can’t keep running forever,” he says.

I stay silent. I remember that night far too well. I remember their cries. I remember the look in their families’ eyes. There was so much destruction. I never want to relive that night again.

“You there?” Eric asks.

“Yeah. I’m here,” I mutter back.

“Look, I won’t talk about it any further. You’re going to the station holiday party right?” he asks.

Shit. The holiday party. I completely forgot. “Yeah. I guess I’ll be there. I’ll see you around nine.”

I end the call with Eric and fall back onto my bed. I close my eyes for a quick second. I guess I just have to live with the fact that this gorgeous woman hasn’t called her phone yet.

Eventually, I take matters into my own hands. I open her phone, searching through her contacts. Sandra. Click.

“Sandra? Hey, I’m the guy from the nightclub last night. I know this is weird, but your friend left her phone at the bar last night. I’m trying to get it back to her. Do you know how I can get it back to her?”

“Oh, it’s you,” she sighs. “She’s actually right next to me. Would you like to talk to her yourself?”

She’s a bit bratty, but it doesn’t faze me. I definitely want to talk to her hot friend. I’d like to plant my face in between her thighs. I want to snake my tongue against her wet hole. Is that allowed? How about light choking and hair pulling? Does she like to be spanked? God, I have too many questions to ask.

“Yeah, sure. Put her on,” I say, calmly.

The phone makes a noise and then she’s on. “Hello?”

“I have your phone,” I tell her.

“Who is this?” she asks.

“The cop from the bar,” I say.

Her voice is a breath of fresh air. It’s slightly monotone and catches at the back of the throat, just long enough to drag out and make your dick hard. It’s different. She’s different, and I want to take her in every position imaginable.

“Oh, it’s you,” she sighs. “Why are you going through my phone?”

“I was just trying to help, ma’am. You left your phone at my booth. I didn’t want to go into your contacts, but I thought you should know where it is,” I say.

Who knows what else is on this phone? Just how dirty does this woman get?

“I’m just messing around,” she says. “I figured you’d call eventually. Cool if we meet up and exchange tonight?”

“Well, I’m kind of busy. There’s a Christmas party at the fire station. You can meet me there if you want,” I say.

“A party? You’re trying to drag me to a party with you?” she asks.

“Trust me. I’m really dreading the idea of going out tonight too. But maybe if we hang out together, it won’t be so bad,” I say.

Perfect persuasion. How could she resist?

“I don’t think so,” she says. “I have work in the morning.”

“So what? I do too. I have to work out at nine A.M.” I laugh. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Don’t leave me there all by myself.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” she says. “Okay, what’s your address? I’ll come grab my phone in a few minutes. We’re just finishing up with something.”

“Alright, but you’re missing out,” I say.

“That’s what all the guys say,” she replies.

I give her my address, understanding that this is probably about as far as we’ll go. When I hang up the phone, I feel bored and a bit resentful. I’m mostly pissed at myself.

Women. They’re the hardest code in the world to crack. But I’m not giving up on this one. Not yet, at least.