The Firefighter and the Virgin Princess

by Jemma Harte

  "Like who?"

  "I don't know. Whomever you wanted to bring. There must be lots of girls—"

  The waitress brought her a skinny glass of juice and his hot chocolate. As soon as she was gone again, Joe leaned across the table and said, "I don't have a girlfriend. If that's what you wanna know, Snooty Princess."

  "I wasn't asking. Why would I?"

  "How come you don't date? You just socially awkward or too picky?"

  She gave a hefty sigh, checking the rim of her glass and wiping it with a napkin. "I told you. I'm a dancer."

  "But that doesn't explain it to me. I'm an outsider, remember? I don't know anything about dancing and dancers. I'm a dumbass regular guy, who just froze his balls off to take you to breakfast."

  Slowly her gaze traveled over his face, taking it all in. Almost as if he had words written there for her to read. "Do you always talk about your balls so much?"

  "They're important to me. I know you don't date men, but you know what they are right?"

  "I believe I get the gist."

  "So you got your dancing and I got my nuts."

  Abruptly she laughed. "I can't remember the last time I had a conversation with someone like you. Someone so completely...separate from my world."

  "Yeah?" He sipped his hot chocolate. "I get it. That's why you came here with me. Curious to know how the ordinary guy lives. The other half." He felt whipped cream on the end of his nose and saw her look. Saw her trying to quell her laughter, pressing her lips hard together.

  "I suppose that must be it," she managed finally. "You're a novelty."

  "Princess must be bored, looking for a humble court jester."

  "Maybe."

  Grabbing a paper napkin from the holder, he wiped his nose. "You oughta try this. Best hot chocolate in the city. Honest. Hey, I never lie."

  "I'll take your word for it."

  "C'mon, Princess. One sip."

  "No. Really."

  He scooped some whipped cream on his spoon and offered it across the table.

  "Oh, I am so going to eat that and let you put whipped cream all over my nose."

  "Suit yourself." He swallowed the spoonful himself and smacked his lips. "You're the one missing out. Not me."

  She looked away from him, staring out at the snowflakes that fell more rapidly now. "You live near here?" she asked after a long pause.

  "Staten Island."

  Her head snapped around again to look at him. "You have to get the ferry back then."

  "It's okay. Runs every half hour. Every hour after 2AM."

  Her eyes narrowed. "So you came to Manhattan on your day off to wait for me and take me to breakfast, not even knowing if I'd say yes, and then you're going all the way back on a cold ferry."

  "Yep."

  "Just for me?"

  "Hey, it ain't complicated, Princess. I say what I think when I think it, and I do what I feel when I feel it. Whatcha see is whatcha get."

  * * * *

  He was plowing through a plate of food as if it was his first meal in days. And talking. The man could talk for America. He threw questions at her.

  "So where does your family live? Here in the city or are they still in Boston?"

  "There isn't anyone," she replied, carefully stirring granola into her plain yoghurt.

  "What do you mean? There has to be someone."

  She watched in amazement as yet another pancake, lavishly adorned with glistening amber syrup, disappeared between his lips. "My parents died in a plane accident when I was eight," she muttered. "I lived with my grandmother after that. Then I came here, of course, to go to school. I stayed with her on holidays."

  "I'm sorry," he muttered. "About your parents."

  What was there to say about that? She usually avoided mentioning the plane accident. She could never understand people pretending to be sorry, pretending to have feelings for a couple they'd never known. "My grandmother died two years ago. So now it's just me."

  "No brothers and sisters? No cousins?"

  "No." Lily was rather glad of it. Having relatives one cared about meant that there could only be intense sorrow when they were gone. People always left her.

  Now there was no one to buy Christmas presents for. When the fireman described to her his trunk full of presents, she'd felt a cloud descend over her head, dark and rainy. She'd seen shoppers in the streets, their arms full of packages. That would never be her. Good. Who cared? She'd buy a bottle of really excellent wine for the concierge in her building, another for the security guard. Some flowers for the costume mistress— always wise to stay on her good side. Then she was done. Clean and easy.

  Alone was tidier.

  She vividly remembered the stiff little black dress and patent leather shoes she wore as she stood by her parents' graves and listened to the droning prayers. How devastated and frightened she'd felt, but had to hide it because she didn't want people to see her cry. Her grandmother was a stoic lady, very old fashioned when it came to holding one's feelings inside and not making a "vulgar display". So Lily copied her grandmother and shed her tears inside, where they had nowhere to go and built up into a painful surge.

  Thank goodness her grandmother encouraged her to throw everything she had into dance. The strict regime of ballet took Lily away from the unpleasantness of real life and taught her that even if she couldn't control anything else about the world, she could control her own body.

  "Where did you go to school?" the chatty fireman asked, slathering his bagel with thick cream cheese.

  "Well, I attended the NYBT School, which meant three dance lessons a day and didn't leave a lot of time for other subjects." She was boring herself with all this. Surely he was bored too with this stilted conversation?

  Maybe not. He was looking at her, waiting for more.

  "But for things like English and science and mathematics I went to the Professional Childrens' School." She was aware that she probably ought to ask him the same questions back again. That was the way normal people conversed.

  But Lily was too entranced by a sticky gleam of syrup on his lips.

  She was so hungry.

  And he was so real. So alive.

  Her grandmother would say he was a dangerous temptation, a distraction.

  On any other Sunday morning, she would be sewing ribbons on shoes, washing tights and practice clothes, fretting about a role, reading reviews in the paper. Everything usually revolved around ballet. Today she had stepped away from all that to go to a diner with this fidgety man. To insult him and tell him she wasn't interested, all the time slyly admiring his powerful smile and naughty brown eyes.

  How far dare she go in this little adventure with him?

  Dare she take another step to break out of her frustrating circle?

  Suddenly she reached across the table and wiped her thumb over his syrupy lip. At last, he stopped talking.

  Lily brought her thumb back to her own mouth and sucked off the delicious sticky sweetness of a forbidden treat.

  He was staring at her again. "You want some more of that?" he asked, his voice low and husky, eyes twinkling. A boy, daring a girl.

  Yep, he was dangerous.

  Did she want more of that?

  Maybe. Oh god, her heart was pounding out of her chest. Just as it did when she stood in the wings, waiting for her cue. She'd never felt this much excitement outside of dance before.

  Since he boasted of being honest and straightforward, she'd be the same in return. See how he took it.

  Lily cleared her throat. "I'm a virgin."

  His eyebrows flew up, and he choked on a bite of bagel.

  "I thought you should know," she added, steering a glass of water toward him with her fingertips. He grabbed it and drank a hearty gulp to dislodge the obstruction.

  She licked her lips, tasting more of that syrup. "Are you shocked?"

  He wheezed, "You might say that."

  "I suppose you never met one before?" she muttered wryly.

  He wiped
his mouth on a bunched napkin and looked at her, his eyes warm, mischievous and definitely interested. "I'm just kinda surprised at the way you announced it. I mean, one minute we're talking about schools and your grandmother—"

  "You are attracted to me and want to have sex with me. Isn't that why we're here? Isn't that why you waited in the cold?"

  He leaned back against the bright vinyl seat, his fist still clutching the napkin. "Wow. You really come to the point, huh?"

  "You claim to say what you think and do what you feel, but you're taking a circuitous route to a purpose. I just wanted you to know that small talk isn't necessary. We both know why we're here."

  Lily went back to her yoghurt, letting him adjust to the idea of her virginity. Poor man, did seem a bit shocked. Just a bit.

  Chapter Four

  He couldn't tell with her. She had a dry sense of humor and one of those deadpan faces.

  "You're kidding me, right?"

  "About what?"

  "About being a goddamned virgin, Princess."

  She sipped her juice. "I didn't say I was a Virgin Princess. Just a virgin." There was a little twitch of a smile and she blinked, her dark lashes flickering sensuously against her cheeks.

  Joe shifted on the vinyl seat, feeling his prick get hard. On a Sunday morning? His ma would never forgive him for an erection on Sunday.

  "I've been busy," Lily added quietly. "As you know, I don't date. The opportunity to lose my virginity, therefore, never arose."

  He didn't know what to say. For the first time, possibly, in thirty fucking years, he had no words. She was the only person he knew who said things like "therefore" and "arose" and "circuitous" in sentences.

  She was wiping up a spilled drop of his hot chocolate from the table top with her neatly folded napkin. "Since you appear to be interested, Lieutenant Rossini, and if you have nothing else on your schedule this morning, perhaps we could do it now."

  "Now?"

  "Once you've digested your breakfast, of course."

  Joe looked over both shoulders, just to be sure his brother and the guys from the firehouse weren't sitting in the booth behind, laughing their asses off. "You got this all planned, Lily Keene?"

  "No. Actually I hadn't planned it at all. But the thought just occurred to me. I have no class this morning, no rehearsal until this afternoon. Perhaps this is an opportunity I should take."

  "Great." He threw out his arms. "Ain't I lucky? So you can fit me in."

  She hesitated. "Is that a pun?"

  He didn't know what the hell to do. It was true he did want her. But it wasn't supposed to be like this, was it? In the old days, Joe would probably have taken her up on the offer, no questions asked. She was hot— damn hot— and he was primed at the pump. Why not?

  Trouble was, he'd never had a virgin before.

  This would be a first for him too.

  "How old did you say you were?" he asked. She looked young. Her face, as far as he could tell, was free of make-up, and despite her poise there was a certain naiveté in her satiny gaze, an innocent wonder. Hey, it might not be polite to ask a lady her age outright, but since she was being blunt...

  "Twenty-two."

  "And never been fucked?"

  "Correct."

  He hesitated, screwing the napkin tighter in his fist, looking out at the snow. "But you just decided on me. Why? We've established that I'm attracted to you, but I thought you didn't even like me. You said you were humoring me."

  She seemed to consider this for a moment, stirring her yoghurt. "But I like your hands," she said finally, almost shyly.

  Joe wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh loud and long. It was all so weird.

  Yet he knew, as soon as he saw her in the street in her splashed coat, that she was something special. That he wanted her in his life, and he wanted to be in hers. Most of all, he wanted to take the tears out of her blue eyes and make her smile.

  He leaned over the table. "You'd better admit you like me, Princess. C'mon, there's something about me that turns you on, right?"

  "I told you. Your hands. I want to feel your hands," she paused to lick her lips again, "on me. All over me. As soon as possible."

  Little miss prissy-pants was playing with him. She had to be. So he'd call her bluff.

  He finished chewing his last bite of bagel. "Okay. Let's go now."

  "Go where?"

  "Your place."

  "I can't go there," she exclaimed hurriedly. "I have a roommate. And it's a really small place with thin walls."

  Uh huh. Just as he thought. "Okay. Then come back to Staten Island with me."

  "Too far. I might change my mind before we get there."

  He laughed curtly. "You might change your mind?"

  "The journey will take too long."

  He shook his head. "I don't wanna sleep with a woman who's not sure about what she wants."

  "That's okay, because we're not going to sleep," she said firmly. "Let's get a hotel room."

  Not only was she blunt, she was taking charge. Maybe that was why he felt so unsure about this. Joe had never given over control to a woman before, and he wasn't about to start now.

  But she had him knotted up like a pretzel and he couldn't get unknotted.

  * * * *

  She had walked past this hotel before and imagined that if the moment ever came to have sex with a man it would be here. Why? Maybe it was the old-fashioned look of the place, the "Georgian" facade and funny little lanterns by the door. It just looked like the sort of place where people went for clandestine affairs. If the tall office buildings and billboards on either side were photo-shopped out, it could be a little bed and breakfast in some European city such as those she'd seen through bus windows when on tour with the company.

  "I'll get the room," he said.

  "No. Let me pay."

  He refused. Even looked angry with her for suggesting it.

  The hotel was quiet, but of course it was Sunday and the early hours. Dawn light hadn't yet crept over the sky. She decided to save an argument and let him pay for the room. Didn't want to draw attention.

  In the elevator, making their way up to the fourth floor, she stared at their reflection in the mirrored door panel. It was rare for her to look in a mirror and not be stretching or posing, leaping or spotting a turn. For once she was still and a man was beside her. A man who slouched, ate with his elbows on the table and talked with his mouth full. Her grandmother would be appalled.

  "Do you have protection?" she asked, realizing suddenly that she should have mentioned it sooner.

  "Fuck! I'll have to go out and get some."

  Apparently he wasn't thinking clearly either.

  They got to the room and then he left her there while he went out in search of condoms. Lily took off her clothes, folded them carefully, went to the bathroom, used some mouthwash that she found in a mini bottle, and then leapt under the covers to wait.

  Abruptly it occurred to her that he might not return. He might decide it was too strange, or that he didn't fancy her after all. He might get on the ferry and go home to Staten Island.

  Rude!

  And here she was, wasting time on her fat ass.

  Lily got out of bed and started stretching, moving on to plies and battements— forward, side and back. Might as well kill time productively. She was feeling restless, the way she used to feel. Excitement fizzed and sputtered through her veins.

  Outside the flimsy net curtains the sky was lightening to grey and purple, but streetlights were still on. The snow had stopped falling and innocent people wandered through the slush in the street below, no idea she was about to lose her virginity to a virtual stranger. How far would he have to search for a condom? There must be a 24-hour pharmacy somewhere near.

  She looked around the room, opening all the drawers, hoping to find a magazine or something. Nope. Empty.

  Couldn't figure out how to turn on the TV.

  Slid open the closet door. Roomy. A few coat hangers— the k
ind that are attached and can't be removed from the rail. Who were they kidding? Who would steal cheap coat hangers?

  What was that on the floor back there? Was that a dollar bill? She stepped inside to check. Nope. Just a receipt. Wow. Huge closet. The door seemed stuck, half off the runners. She tugged it hard, trying to get it straight. It slid shut with a bang, plunging her into darkness.

  What the fuck?!

  There was no handle on the inside, and her fingernails weren't long enough to be of any use in prying the door open from the tiny crack of light left.

  Lily Keene, stark nekkid, was stuck in the closet.

  And he might not even come back.

  Well, this was certainly turning out to be an adventure.

  * * * *

  Joe entered the room and saw the bed sheets rumpled, her clothes folded on a chair.

  "Lily?" He peeped into the bathroom.

  "I'm...er...I'm in here."

  At least she didn't take off on him, he thought with relief. "Where's here?" He looked around the empty room.

  He heard a deep sigh. "In the fucking bedside cabinet. Where do you think?"

  Smothering a chuckle, he went to the closet and after a few careful tugs, slid the door smoothly open. "What are you doing hiding in here? I guess the door jammed, huh? You have to ease these babies open, 'cos if you force it they'll just get stuck or come off the runner."

  "Thanks for the lesson in cheap closet doors." She was standing there naked, arms folded, hair loose over her shoulders. "Where did you go, China?"

  Apparently she wasn't afraid of the dark or confined spaces. He knew a few women who would have screamed the place down. Not this one.

  "If you must know," she blushed, "I thought I saw a dollar bill. Then the door shut and wouldn't open."

  "Wow. I didn't think you were that hard up for money, Princess." He chuckled.

  She stepped out and grabbed the bag of condoms from his hand. "Are you planning to use all these? We'd better get a move on. If you can stop laughing long enough."

  Christ, she was beautiful. And hairless from the head down, he realized with surprise. Her breasts were fuller than he thought, not large but perfectly shaped teardrops. Her waist was narrow, her stomach flat and toned. Her pussy completely smooth. And then, of course, there were those long, long legs. Suddenly she shoved him back onto the bed.