There was a small house fire across the street last night. At 2 am, five fire trucks converged on the scene in our little neighborhood with sirens blaring and lights flashing. My immediate concern for the neighbors dissolved into utter fascination at the conflagration of those tight-bodied, helmeted, uniformed young men who give their lives to protect us.
Truth be told, I couldn't take my eyes off them. Again, my years in NY came to mind. The NYFD has the most gorgeous, sculpted, able-bodied guys on the planet. Whenever they zoomed down a Manhattan thoroughfare, I always stopped to gawk and wave. It was my opportunity to fantasize that they were coming to save me, all courageous, sweaty, and prepared to carry me to safety as I looked longingly in their steely eyes with their eyelashes beckoning me to bury my head into their chiseled chests for comfort (and maybe more after I had fully recovered). NY firefighters are very aware of their reputation for being buff and bad-ass The calendars of them can attest to this.
Our local firefighters looked equally exquisite though a little sleepy last night. Knowing that they had everything under control early on allowed them to mingle and linger so we could get a good look at'em. Tee shirts belied those heaving chests underneath, and the pants with the suspenders were adorable. It made me want to take off one suspender at a time, very slowy. And, they smelled of smoke...what an aphrodisiac! One of them came to our door where my sis and I stood gawking. He sweetly asked if we could move the car parked in front of our house so more fire trucks could pull up. I was just sick that I did not have on my see-through, black negligee that I save for very 'special' occasions...instead, I had to appear in the night in my chenille robe and enormous bedroom slippers shaped like rabbit ears.
Perhaps it's time for me to go out again, find a beau and start anew, because I could hardly sleep the rest of the night for dreaming of those firefighing hunks!
By the way, the fire did no damage, as it was from an electrical line outside in the back of the house across the street. Thank God...hehehe.
Well, KK, thank you for a chapter from a really cheezy romance novel and some good fantasizing for a middle-aged woman. But let's get real here. We are in our 50's and those dashing young men in their red trucks are too young for us. It's a shame but it's true.
Come on now, give it up for that rich, old white haired man who loves us because we don't care that his long balls are hanging down to his knees. (Our boobs are hangin' down there too). And let's have a little appreciation for the fuzzy chest of that gray-haired mogul who appreciates a fine, menopausal woman 'cause she doesn't care that his ass looks like a damn Sharpei puppy face.
I'm just sayin'...