Rescue Breathing

by Zoe Norman

  We rock against each other over and over, our skin slick with sweat and our eyes never leaving the others. I can feel myself building, which surprises me. He leans forward and starts to kiss me, making love to me with his mouth, his body. Before I know it, I'm close to coming, and he must sense it. Without stopping his kiss, he slips a hand between us and presses lightly on my clitoris.

  I explode around him, moaning into his mouth as he kisses me deeper. I feel him tense right before he comes inside me, causing my orgasm to go on and on. We shake as we kiss, shuddering as we both come down, as connected as two people can be. Falling backwards, he takes me with him, panting. I slip off of him and lie next to him, barely able to control my breathing, cool air hitting my sweat-slicked body. He slips off the condom, knotting the end and dropping it to the floor next to him. Then he pulls me to him, drawing the comforter over us both.

  He looks me in the eyes, pushing my moist hair away from my face. “Thank you,” he says.

  I furrow my brow. “For what?”

  “For finding me.”

  He buries his face into my neck, and we fall asleep together, tangled in each other's arms, tears streaming down my face as my heart starts to swell. I think I'm falling for this man.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Owen

  Olivia and I have been dating for a little over a month and fucking for three. Our busy schedules have made it difficult lately for us to spend much time outside of the bedroom, and we decided we definitely need to have a night out. My friends from the firehouse meet every other Friday night at a local bar, The Hook 'n Ladder, and I asked Olivia if she would feel comfortable coming out and meeting my friends tonight. I've been waiting for an opportunity to introduce her to my buddies, but I wanted to make sure she's comfortable first. I've never introduced a woman to my coworkers before. Kind of like church and state—I keep my work life and my private life separate—but with Olivia, everything has changed.

  With only a little convincing, she agreed to meet me tonight. I cannot wait to show her off. The guys know about Olivia. I shamelessly talk about her all the time. Yeah, they pitch me shit about having a girlfriend and “settling down,” but I take it all in stride. Oddly enough, the hazing doesn't faze me at all, because for the first time in a long time, I'm truly happy. She consumes my thoughts and has replaced my nightmares with sweet dreams.

  The Hook 'n Ladder is a dimly lit Irish bar chock-full of fireman memorabilia from years past. It's a favorite gathering place of a lot of firemen from different houses in this part of Brooklyn. A place where guys come to relax, share stories, commiserate about the union, and have an occasional therapy session. There are a few women here too. Mostly they hang around with the intention of getting laid. Lots of big hair, big lips, big tits, and little clothes. We call them “fire fangirls,” a sort of fireman groupie, if you will. On the weekends, the fire fangirls come here in droves, most all of them willing to help a fireman with his hose.

  Because Olivia is coming from the city and I'm already in Brooklyn, we agreed that she would meet me here. When I arrived at the bar thirty minutes ago, I found a few of the guys knee-deep in stories and their pitcher of beer empty. I ordered another pitcher for the table and snagged a chair that has a clear line of sight of the door.

  “Maxwell! Where's your girl? Did you think better than to introduce us to her?” my buddy, Saul, asks jokingly.

  “Well if I knew you were going to be here, Saul, I would have. Olivia's on her way from Manhattan. She should be here anytime,” I reply. As if on cue, Olivia confidently walks through the door of the bar and looks around. “Oh. Wow…” I exhale.

  Olivia is wearing a pair of skinny jeans that do amazing things to her legs, and I would bet her ass too. She also has on a black shirt that hangs off one shoulder, very Flashdance-ish. Her soft brunette hair is down and curled like I love, and her makeup is light and natural. She's stopped by Sherman, the bouncer, who checks her ID before letting her go any farther. Olivia hasn't found me yet, so this gives me an opportunity to observe her for a few minutes. She smiles at Sherman, and I chuckle to myself as he takes his sweet time checking her ID in an effort to look at Olivia just a little longer. Can't blame the guy, really. After he returns her ID, Olivia scans the bar, looking for me. Her eyes eventually settle on mine and she smiles brightly, genuinely happy to see me. It's been two days since we've seen each other, the longest since we've been together, and for a new relationship, that means we're both feeling a bit greedy for each other.

  “I'll be right back, guys. Olivia's here,” I call out to the table as I make my way towards her.

  My friends throw out harassing comments and jabs about how I'm whipped and that she already has my balls in her purse, but I don't listen. I'm excited to see my girl. My girl. It's been a long time since I've laid claim to anyone. It feels good.

  The thought of being exclusive with Olivia was scary, but the thought of being without her terrified me. I didn't know if she was seeing anyone else. I didn't want to know. I assumed she wasn't because we were seeing each other nearly every day, but I wanted her to know that I was serious about giving this relationship an honest try, and committing to her and only her. So last weekend, in the middle of my living room while sitting around the coffee table and eating Chinese food from white paper cartons, I broached the subject of being exclusive. My heart was beating out of my chest, and I wanted to throw up, but you should have seen the look on her face. It calmed me. Her beautiful blue eyes were filled with tears of relief, joy and maybe even love. I can't describe how that made me feel. The rust around my heart was really starting to break free; I could literally feel it. We talked openly and honestly about seeing only each other, and without much fanfare, we committed ourselves to one another. It felt right, natural, and safe. I'm still scared out of my mind, but I'm getting comfortable with the idea.

  I meet Olivia halfway through the bar, place my hands on her hips and kiss her softly. The guys are catcalling from behind me, and I start to chuckle. I press my forehead against hers.

  “Hi, beautiful. Goddamnit, you look fuckable. I'm going to have to fight off my buddies tonight, aren't I?”

  Olivia chuckles and looks past my shoulder to my friends, who are now staring. “I think I can handle them,” she replies.

  “I don't doubt that. Come on,” I say, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards my friends. “There are some people I want you to meet.” As I lead her back to our table, I call out to the bartender, “Arnie! This beautiful woman would like a mojito. Easy on the sugar.”

  “You got it, boss!” Arnie calls back. “She's a looker, Owen. Nice goin'!” he adds.

  I turn to look at Olivia, who's blushing, “I know,” I reply, only looking at her. “I'm a lucky guy.”

  We make our way around groups of drinking firemen from different stations around Brooklyn. I look back at her as we get closer to my friends, eager to hear what they think of her. As we get closer to them, I squeeze her hand and give her a wink. We walk up to the table and their conversation stops, their gazes all moving to Olivia and I, smiles erupting on their faces.

  “Olivia,” I began, taking a deep breath. This is kind of nerve-racking. “I'd like to introduce you to Saul. He's our chauffeur—he drives the rig. Nat and Matt here are usually working with me, and this guy,” I say, grabbing my friend's shoulder, “is Tanner Wilson. He's the stupid asshole who has my back. He's saved my life a time or two.”

  Tanner and I are the youngest guys to be promoted to a Rescue Company in the five boroughs. The bonus is that we are both in the same firehouse. We've developed a natural bond in and out of the firehouse. I have an enormous amount of respect and admiration all the guys I work with and he's become a huge part of my life, an extension of my family.

  “Olivia, it's nice to finally meet you.” Tanner smiles widely. “This guy here has told us all about you. Not everything, but enough.”

  “Okay, stop talking, Tanner. She's gonna think I'm smitten or somet
hing.” The table erupts in laughter, and I turn my head to pretend to look over my shoulder but whisper into Olivia's ear, “Which I totally am, by the way.”

  Olivia shifts her eyes to look at me and grins. “Good. Me too,” she mouths to me and grabs my hand under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  “Maxwell, you said she was beautiful, but damn, man, she's fucking gorgeous.” Matt shouts excitedly.

  “Watch your mouth, Matt,” I mockingly scold. “And yes, she is fucking gorgeous.” I grin as I pull Olivia close and softly kiss her temple.

  Arnie brings over Olivia's drink and Tanner raises his glass for a toast. “To Owen meeting his match.”

  “Really, Tanner?” I say, “Match? We're firemen. That's the worst pun of a toast I've heard.”

  We all groan and clink our glasses despite the corny sentiment.

  Over the next half hour, Olivia laughs and jokes with my friends as if she's been with the department for the past umpteen years. She's engaging and attentive with the tall tales my friends are sharing. It's endearing. Without much effort at all, she's won their approval, which I knew wouldn't be a problem.

  “Ready for another drink, Liv?” I ask her.

  The rest of the guys chime in and say that they're ready for another round too.

  Olivia laughs and crooks her finger at me, asking me to come closer. “I'm going to head to the bathroom while you get drinks. Where is it?”

  I point towards the back of the bar and realize that the place has picked up considerably since we arrived.

  Olivia gets up from the table, and I give her a pat on the ass before she walks towards the restrooms. She turns around and shoots me a seductive look over her shoulder that makes my cock stir. Mmmm, bar bathrooms do make fond memories for us.

  I'm debating on whether to follow her again when Tanner grabs my shoulder with a shake. “She's awesome, Owen. You don't watch yourself, I'll be moving in on that,” he says with a wicked smile.

  “Only in your wet dreams, man,” I call back with a laugh as I order another round of drinks for the table. There's no way I'm letting Olivia go. I have too much to lose.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Olivia

  As I make my way to the back of the bar to find the restrooms, I realize that I have to push through a much larger crowd than there was when I first got here. I was having such a good time with Owen and his friends that I didn't even notice how much busier things have gotten. When I reach the bathrooms, there is a long line of women in varying stages of intoxication waiting to get in. I lean against the wall and survey my surroundings, much like I did that night in the club in Seattle. I smile at myself and shake my head at the memory of what transpired in the bathroom that night. Dirty boy.

  The line moves fairly quickly, and soon I find myself next in line for a stall. Even once inside, I have to push myself through a gaggle of women standing at the mirrors, reapplying their makeup, and gossiping. As I slip into the first available stall, I take a breath of relief, having just slipped in past a large group of them, all part of the same pack, that were settling in front of the mirrored wall. The pack analogy seems fitting, since they are probably like a pack of wolves when they set their sights on a man here. I start to unbutton my jeans and shimmy them down as one starts to talk in a very affected, breathy voice.

  “Oh my fucking God, Beth, did you see fucking Owen is here?” says breathy girl.

  My residual smile from my giggling fades as I slowly sit on the toilet. Owen? Ice floods my veins. My Owen?

  “I totally did. He looks fucking hot tonight,” another pack member says, “but also very fucking taken. Who's the chick with him?”

  “Owen is always fucking 'taken.' That shit doesn't worry me,” says pack member number one with disdain in her voice. “And plus, I've already had that. Trust me. He can't say no to me.” She lets out a breath, which is more like a cackle.

  I start sweating and shivering at the same time, feeling like a voyeur and a jealous girlfriend all at once. I'm trying desperately not to make any noise. As badly as I'd like to come flying out of this stall like a lunatic and attack these sluts, I'm frozen to my spot.

  Owen and I have had very open discussions about his sexual history and the fact that it may rear its head from time to time in this small Brooklyn community. I thought I had worked that out for myself, and Owen has spent many hours trying to remind-slash-prove to me that I'm all he wants. But I also haven't had my theory and feelings tested yet, this being the first time I've actually run into someone from his past. And while I would love to be the bigger woman here, my blood is boiling and my urge to run is growing.

  “When was the last time you saw him, Liz?” the one named Beth asks.

  “Hmmm…I sucked him off at the firehouse, like, I don't know, a few months ago?” Liz replies.

  A few months ago? He would have been with me a few months ago. My stomach turns. We weren't exclusive then, but we were sleeping together. In my heart, I hope that she's just a terrible judge of time even though I know that I don't have a right to stake claim on him before we made a commitment to each other.

  “God, Beth, that night he had me up against the wall of the firehouse, it was insane. He does this thing where he rolls his hips and fucks slo—”

  A strangled groan slips out of my lips before I can stop it. I clamp my hand over my mouth, horrified that I let out a sound and beyond disgusted at what I'm hearing. Regardless of where he and I were at the time, this is unbearable to hear.

  “Did you hear something? Huh. Anyway, let me tell you a secret, Beth. Owen Maxwell is a stud. He's one of those guys who is so big, and so hot, and so goooood that you can only have him a couple times a month.” She makes an exaggerated sigh, and her girlfriend giggles in an unbelievably annoying way. “I think I'm going to go out there and say hi. Should I?”

  Beth makes a thoughtful sound. “Well, he's got that other chick with him. Do you think he remembers you?”

  Liz makes a disgusted sound. “Remember me? Remember me? Oh, Beth. After the last time I saw him, after he begged me to stay with him, he made it very clear that he would drop whatever or whoever he was doing at the time for a few minutes of fun with me. I feel very confident that some Plain Jane isn't going to stop me from getting a little of Owen Maxwell's time.”

  She lets out what sounds like a moan, and I almost vomit in my mouth. I'm burning up inside. Pissed that she is so blatantly talking about her sex life with my boyfriend, and pissed that he may have fucked her only a few months ago, when we were together.

  They sound like idiots. What would he see in them? Tits? Their unbelievable talent for saying 'fuck' an inordinate number of times in a single sentence? What would he want with me if he wanted her in the past? I mean, I am nothing like these women, in any way, no matter how you stretch your imagination. I bet all his women were like her. Ditzy, willing to fuck or suck him at will. I'm just this geeky nerd who isn't that pretty, and well, I'll do those things for him too, but it's not the same.

  “Let's go Liz, let's go get your man!” Beth exclaims, laughing as they leave the bathroom.

  YOUR man?

  I sit quietly on the toilet with my head in my hands as I listen to them leave, counting to ten in the hopes that I can control the urge I have to run, to take off, to protect my heart. After exiting the stall, I stare at myself in the mirror above the sink. I am alone in the bathroom, which is odd considering how many people were in here just moments ago. I wash my hands that are shaking from anger. I suddenly feel dog tired, my eyes drooping, my face somber, my skin pale. I just want to go home.

  As I step out into the bar area, it goes from quiet to eardrum-busting noise. I stand by the doors of the restroom and scan the room. Everyone there is having a good time. I see couples canoodling against the bar. First-timers are getting to know each other and enjoying stolen touches and glances. There are couples who have been together longer and in varying states of intoxication. Their love for each other is more
obvious, overtly kissing, bickering, or fondling over drinks.

  Owen is standing where I left him with his friends, and they are laughing boisterously. I see a woman with brown curly hair and enormous breasts barely contained by her tank top striding over to him. She waves her hand toward him, clearly calling out to him. He looks shocked to see her but waves back. As she moves closer to him, he looks increasingly less comfortable, but he entertains her hello and awkward hug. This is Liz. The woman who has been talking about my boyfriend's penis and sexual prowess at the sinks of the Hook 'n Ladder's women's room.

  As I watch the awkward exchange, I think that if I really had something to worry about he wouldn't have invited me. But Owen can be very cocky and think that he has the world by the balls. It also wouldn't surprise me if he thought it wouldn't matter or he had it under control. The sight before me becomes unbearable to watch as I see her overtly flirting. Making every effort to make myself invisible, I slink down the side of the bar, toward the main entrance, toward my escape. I have no intention of telling Owen that I'm leaving. He's preoccupied, and I'm done. I slip out unnoticed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Owen

  “Liz, seriously, you need to leave,” I growl, prying her hand off my arm. “I'm here with my buddies and my girl is in the bathroom. We—”

  “Bathroom? We just came from there. There wasn't anyone else in there. Besides,” Liz says, running her tongue along her teeth, “you had such a good time the last time I saw you. I thought you might be up for a repeat…or more. This time, there are two of us.”

  “Please?” Beth pipes in while running her fingernail down my thigh. “We want to play, Owen.”

  The two women have the attention of my buddies at the table. I look at them and their eyes scan from me to the ladies like they're at a tennis match, enthralled with what will happen next.