When I was a firefighter Chapter 5 part 3 of 10

When I was a firefighter
Chapter 5 part 3 of 10

She pulled out the next drawer and retrieved a red bra that was almost as sheer as the panties before she began getting dressed. She faced away from me as she stepped into the tiny panties—they looked like they would be small for a Barbie doll.

As the string disappeared between the cheeks of her perfect ass and the side strings were pulled up over her hips, she leaned forward to look at the little patch over her crotch and said, “Oh, these are so naughty!”

She turned to the side, denying me a view from the front, to sit on her stool and she slowly slid her stockings on while trying to pay no attention to me watching her. With both stockings on, she stood again (still facing away from me) and she put her garter belt on; attaching the four elastic suspenders to the tops of her stockings. She was the sexiest woman I could imagine!

She put on her bra and asked, “Are you ready to see?”
I had to swallow hard before I could say, “Yeah; I’m ready!”

Cherry turned slowly, struck a model’s pose, and I nearly came in my pants. Fortunately, I had the presence of mind to take a screen capture! And, a part of me wished I would go blind at that very moment so that would be the image forever burned into my brain!

The red lingerie complemented her hair perfectly and her green eyes seemed to grow in intensity. But I would be lying if I didn’t admit that her panties were drawing my attention like a hypnotist’s pocket watch.

The tiny patch did almost nothing to cover her. Not one part of the fabric was opaque, leaving all of her parts clearly visible. As they passed her clitoris, they pressed immediately between her vaginal lips and vanished; giving her a major ‘camel toe’. Cherry tried to pull them up a little to try and get them to cover more of what little pubic hair she kept, but they weren’t moving very much.

It pained me to say it, but I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable, so I said, “Those panties are really hot on you, but they look like they don’t feel very good. How about a different pair?”
Cherry said, “Actually, they are quite comfy! The fabric is really soft, and they feel so naughty; I can feel every move I make. They feel better now than they did years ago!”
“Really?” I asked amazed.
She just nodded and said, “I’m going to wear these all day; these are my panties for the day!”

Cherry went back to her closet to pick out what else she would wear for the day, and she decided that she would put on a basic pair of jeans and an oversized sweatshirt (with no additional t-shirt) over the selected underwear. A pair of socks would keep her mom from noticing that she had stockings on her feet. When she was done getting dressed, it was impossible to see the sexy lingerie she wore underneath the average outfit.

Just then, Cherry’s Mom returned from grocery shopping, and she had to go and help bring the bags inside. We each said, ‘I love you’, and ended the FaceTime call. She would tell me later about her Mom’s reaction to her outfit for the day.

Her Mom took one look at her and asked, “To what do we owe this to?”

Not understanding, Cherry asked, “What?”

Her Mom said, “The way you’re dressed?”

Cherry looked at herself and asked, “What’s wrong with this?”

Her Mom answered, “Nothing. It’s just for once you aren’t wearing anything that is skin-tight, too revealing, or slutty. I was just wondering why.”

Cherry said, “I’m grounded: it’s not like I’m going anywhere or any of my friends are going to see me… HEY! I’m not a slut!”

“I didn’t say you were. Just some of the things you like to wear—sometimes—are a little slutty.”

Cherry said, “I just felt like being comfy today. That’s all.”

Her Mom accepted the explanation, completely oblivious to what Cherry wore underneath.

Meanwhile, I had gone back to my project of finding a solution to the dangerous intersection. The transition of getting back to work was a gradual one; I was having a difficult time putting the conversations, bubble baths, and fashion shows behind me. But I told myself that any guy with a pulse would be having the same problem.

Looking over the multiple pictures and notes I’d made about my observations, I thought back to what Cherry said when I told her of the dead-end I was running into. She said that you just had to ‘stop and step back from it’ sometimes. Her words (especially the ‘step back’ part) echoed in my head and I had a sudden thought: the problem wasn’t AT the intersection; it was the stretch of interstate that seamlessly transitioned into local roads with nothing more than road signs to warn about the transition.

That meant the REAL problem was at least ¾ of a mile before the intersection. I thought if there was a way to make sure that ALL drivers were completely aware of what lay ahead, the problem would be solved. I asked myself, ‘how do you get someone to know that there is a stop on what appears to be an interstate? Almost as soon as I asked the question, I had the answer.

It was so unbelievably stupid and simple that I had difficulty in believing it might work. The solution in simplest terms was a toll booth. The lanes could be divided with guard rails and heavy plastic poles leading up to the rails: an unaware driver would notice hitting the poles and the only thing to be hurt is a front bumper and maybe a headlight. He would regain control before reaching the guard rails and another disaster would be averted.

Throw in some ‘rumple strips’ for good measure and maybe even a modest speed bump 50 yards from the intersection and there would never be another “Katie tragedy” at this intersection again!

I went into overdrive to put the presentation together; it had to be ready before the town hall meeting on Wednesday! I knew that the exact distances for placement of the various elements to the concept would have to be calculated by an actual engineer, so I didn’t worry about those things too much. Instead, I just focused on making it look neatly organized, well thought out, and most importantly, fool-proof and too safe to say ‘no’.

Reaching a good stopping point for the night, I cleaned up a bit and realized I was starting to feel sick. As I was trying to figure out why it dawned on me that I had not eaten a thing all day. I went to the fridge and raided it like a bear in a camper’s cooler. With my stomach full, I finally noticed that a new level of funk was emanating from me; it was time to get a shower.

The phone rang with a FaceTime call just as I was about to step into the shower. Knowing it was Cherry, I answered it.

To be continued