Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Chapter 1

   It was a dismal, damp December Friday night.  Simon sat at the wheel of
the large red vehicle, making his way through the traffic, blue lights
flashing, bells ringing.  He was still very new to this, and still felt the
enormous thrill of guiding the huge bulk at high speed, with the Perkins V8
beneath him.

   John sat next to him.  Simon knew he'd be watching, keeping an eye out
for potential trouble.  He didn't feel slighted or upset; in fact, if
anything, he felt relieved to know that there was a backup should he make
an error.

   Simon had the windscreen wipers going, but it wasn't really raining.  It
was more a fine spray kicked up by the other vehicles, held in suspension.
It was annoying, and made it harder to see, but the high vantage point over
the powerful, roaring engine had a number of advantages, and visibility was
one of them.  Simon could see a bright patch in the sky ahead, and knew
that in a minute or two he'd be seeing a building ablaze.  It was his job,
and that of his friends and colleagues, to rescue anyone there, and put out
the fire.

   Simon pulled the big machine into a large parking area, seeing a sign
swinging in the moisture-laden wind: "Ronnies Caff" it proclaimed.  Simon
knew it through the friends he'd made at the driving school, learning to
drive the heavy vehicle.  It was a popular stop among the truck drivers,
what they called a 'greasy spoon'.

   But just now it was completely ablaze.  He stopped in front of the
blazing café and got out along with John - reminding himself that he was
Sub Officer John Tierney, now that they were on duty.  The rest of the crew
went about their oft-practiced work, setting up hoses and such.  John went
to find someone to talk to.

   Simon was once more struck by the spectacle in front of him.  The fire
seemed to be a living, breathing animal, consuming the building.  It was
more striking because of the darkness of the night, and the lurid orange
light from the streetlights around.  He shook himself; he had no time for
sightseeing.

   Having driven the vehicle to the scene, his job now was to do whatever
his commander decided.  He shrugged off the odd feeling of detachment and
hurried after the Sub-Officer.

   Just as he caught up with him, a round, middle-aged guy rushed up to
John, "Thank God you're here!  One of my waitresses is trapped in there!"

   "Whereabouts?" Sub Officer John Tierney was now all grim business.

   "She's trapped behind the counter in the main room.  I saw her just a
moment ago, she's okay for the moment but she can't get out of there!"
Simon thought the gent must be 'Ronnie', but who knew?  He put the thought
out of his mind.

   "I'll go!" he told John, and got a measured stare from his leader.

   "Wait a moment until we can get a shielding spray set up!" John ordered,
and turned to organise it.

   After a wait of seconds that seemed like long, tension filled minutes,
Simon heard John order, "Go!"

   The heat was tremendous, the smoke filling the room while the flames
burst through it.  Simon knew he'd have to be quick.  The team behind him
advanced with the hose, with the nozzle turned wide to emit a broad spray
of water, keeping the heat down.  Simon advanced quickly through the door
to the café, spotting the counter behind which he expected to find the
waitress.  Summing up the situation quickly, he checked carefully, looking
for dangers.  The main centre of the fire seemed to be in the kitchen area
behind the main cafeteria, but it had spread forward into here, blocking
the door and trapping the woman.

   Once through the flames around the door he ran ahead of the sheltering
spray.  Keeping low to make the best of what visibility there was, Simon
ran quickly to the end of the counter.  He spotted the woman hiding behind
it and saw her look of terror.  He took her hand, placed his mouth next to
her ear and bellowed, "Just follow me!" She shook her head, clearly too
terrified to move.  Simon didn't hesitate, he grabbed her, pulled her over
his shoulder and turned immediately for the exit.

   For a moment he thought he'd pushed his luck as a flaming tile fell from
the ceiling in front of him, but nothing more came and he side-stepped it,
keeping his balance.  He made his way quickly through the spray of water to
the outside.  Once there he let the woman down and led her to the
ambulance, very pleased to see that it had already arrived.

   Simon was hot, his scalp felt prickly.  He took off his helmet and shook
his head, wiping his hand over his face.  He knew he shouldn't do it, but
it was safe enough here.  The girl watched him, and before the two
ambulance men could say anything she turned to Simon and plastered a huge
kiss on him, blurting afterwards, "Thank you!" Embarrassed, Simon mumbled,
"Just my job," and handed her over to the two medics.  He replaced his
helmet, took a deep breath, and turned back to the job.

   John called to him as he left her.  "Simon!  Good job!" he said.  "Now
go help out Phil's team on the other hose!"

   There was still plenty of work to do, and Simon didn't see the woman
again.  He recalled that she seemed young, even younger than he was, and he
thought she might have been pretty.  But he couldn't say for certain, and
in any case there was no time for woolgathering.

   - - - - - - - - -

   Some hours later, still feeling the rush from the fire and the rescue,
Simon finally began to take stock of the night's events.  He wondered who
the young woman was.  He'd been to the café a couple of times, and wondered
if she'd served him there.  As he lay in the old white-enamelled clawfoot
bathtub of his parent's house, he let his mind wander to what the feel of
her lips on his would be like, imagining the pressure of her shapely body
against his.  He began idly rubbing himself, imagining more than just a
kiss from the woman, and her saying, "Oh, how can I ever thank you?" then
giving herself completely to him.  Deep in his fantasy, and in no time at
all it seemed, he was coming...  ropes of semen flying up onto his chest.
He sighed, closed his eyes and relaxed, the heat of the water and the
post-climax calm acting powerfully together.

   "Simon!  Come on, other people want to use the bathroom!"

   It was his mother, on the other side of the bathroom door.  Simon
started, guiltily.  "Be right out!" he called, and quickly began to wash
himself.

   Just before he left the room he grinned at his reflection in the
fogged-up mirror, wiping it so that he could see himself.  As a fantasy,
thinking of the girl giving herself to him in gratitude was fine, but Simon
knew it wouldn't be like that.  He was still young and inexperienced in the
Service, but while he knew that emotions ran wild under the stress of the
situation at a fire, people quickly reverted back to normality.  He doubted
if he'd ever see the girl again.  He wondered for a moment what her name
was, then shook his head.  He'd probably never know.

   - - - - - - - - -

   It was almost a year after the restaurant fire, and Simon was getting
ready for a night out.  He and John were going to a nightclub just outside
of town, and he needed to dress smartly - they'd not get in otherwise.  He
pulled his dark blue trousers up, fastened the rather gaudy belt buckle,
and looked at himself in the mirror.

   He supposed he could call himself rugged, but not handsome.  Simon was a
couple of inches under six feet tall, with narrow hips and waist but a
reasonably broad chest and shoulders.  He was fit - a fireman has to be -
but no muscleman.  Dragging a comb through his unruly mop of curly blonde
hair again, knowing that two minutes later it would once again be pointing
in all directions, he once more cursed his two 'crowns'.  Oh well, the job
description said fireman, not model.

   He plucked a white linen shirt from his wardrobe and added the
obligatory tie, a wide multicoloured affair.  A horn honked outside his
parent's house and he hurried to his window.  Looking down he saw the car
outside, so grabbing his jacket he hurried downstairs.

   "I'm off then Mum!" he called.  His mother replied cheerfully but Simon
wasn't really listening and he was out of the door in a flash.

   "You ready then, Simon?" asked John as his passenger eased himself into
the small car.

   "Sure," Simon replied happily.  He looked over the car, thinking how
much it fitted his friend and mentor.  John was short, compact and
powerful, just like the Mini Cooper S that he drove.  The car was his pride
and joy, it was spotless inside and out.  Simon knew from experience that
the engine and underside were regularly cleaned, too.  Heaven help the
person who dropped litter in John's car!  In fact...

   "Heard anything from Jenny?" Simon asked.

   "No!" came John's grunted reply.

   'Better stay away from that subject, Simon!' he thought to himself. 
Jenny was - had been - John's girlfriend for the last 18 months or so, and
was notoriously untidy.  Simon had been up to their flat on a number of
occasions, and he had noticed that it was always John who was picking up,
cleaning and so on.

   Simon had been crammed into the back seat of the Mini with John driving
and Jenny in the passenger seat, when she'd casually screwed up a sweet
wrapper and dropped it in the foot-well.  John had told her, not asked, to
pick it up.  The argument had gone on from there, developing, switching
subject, and Simon, an involuntary spectator, had got more and more
uncomfortable.  The couple had broken up that night.

   Which was why he and John were off to the nightclub tonight.  Simon had
not had a serious girlfriend yet, just a number of very short flings,
nothing that lasted more than a couple of weeks, at most.  John was looking
to find someone to talk to who didn't have a gruff voice and hair on his
chest, someone soft and curvy.  They were just two young men, out on 'the
pull'.

   They fell into a comfortable silence as John drove along the coast road
and across the marshes.  Although they'd only met two years before, they'd
developed a deep friendship that didn't need constant chatter to reinforce
it.  Besides, neither of them was a great conversationalist.

   Eventually, John pulled into the car park of 'Sensations' nightclub. 
Both had been there before, and knew what to expect.  The drinks would be
over-priced, the décor was glitzy but in need of a little love and
attention.  But above all there would be girls.  Girls who themselves were
out to have a good time.

   John parked, they got out, and Simon waited for his friend to lock the
Mini.  He read the banner promoting tonight's show - a live band,
'Rocksette' they called themselves.  'Good!' he thought.  He loved live
music.

   Inside, the club was both dark and gaudily lit, a contradiction that
Simon thought had probably cost quite a bit to attain.  There were
spotlights and string lights and a dance floor lighted from below, but the
overall effect was still dark.  The entrance was plush but well worn. 
Simon and John nodded to the doorman, paid the cover-charge at the window
and went into the club proper.

   They were met by the boom-boom sound of the music, with a scratchy
guitar and insistent rhythm.  John leaned close to Simon.

   "What do they call this?" he shouted into Simon's ear.

   "Disco!" he shouted back.  John's look of distaste was a perfect mirror
to Simon's own feelings about it.

   They made their way to the bar.  Simon stood with his back to the bar
while John ordered the first round.

   "How much?!"

   Simon turned around when he heard the scandalised tone of John's
anguished query.  John handed him his beer, then shouted "One pound and
twenty pence for a ruddy foreign lager.  Oh well, cheers!"

   They clunked glasses, took a gulp, and John began moving away from the
bar.

   They were early enough that there were still places to sit.  John made
his way to a table with a line of sight to the stage, Simon following. 
They sat and Simon surveyed the room.

   "Not a lot here tonight."

   "Yeah, well, it's still early.  The good ones don't want to appear too
eager, y'know?" John answered.

   "Yeah, I guess.  But it's still annoying.  We have to get here early to
grab somewhere to sit, and for the next hour or two all we can do is listen
to crap music and drink overpriced crap beer."

   John lightly punched Simon on the arm, replying, "That's the overpriced
crap beer that I bought you're drinking.  Shuddup moaning and get it down
you, you'll feel better!"

   Simon wondered why he felt so grumpy.  He shook his head, drained the
beer and stood up.  "Okay, my round.  Same again?"

   "Yeah, thanks."

   After they'd each had a couple of beers, Simon started feeling better.
He offered to get another one for John, but he put his hand over his drink,
saying, "I'd better not.  I have to drive home." Simon nodded, and then
went to the bar and got his own.

   While this had been happening the band had been setting up on stage.  By
the time Simon got back to John they appeared to be just about ready.

   "I wonder what they'll sound like?" Simon asked John.

   "Lead 'n Rhythm, singer, bass, keyboards, drums - could be anything,
pretty much," he opined.

   The lights dimmed a little more and the band came on stage.  Simon
watched as two women and three guys walked on, going to their instruments.
He was surprised when one of the girls picked up a guitar, while the other
went to the keyboards.

   The lead singer, a pale, skinny guy with long curly hair, went to the
mike as the drummer counted them in.  Then they began, playing a cover of
the Who's "I can see for miles," and both John and Simon nodded
appreciatively.  The band came to the guitar break and Simon was blown
away. That girl could play!

   For the rest of the evening he was mesmerised.  She was tall, slim, had
dirty blonde hair and a button nose.  She wore a white T-shirt and blue
jeans, but it was her fingers on the guitar that Simon was watching.  The
red Stratocaster (or copy, Simon wasn't sure) sang under her attention.  At
one point she did a fair impression of Hendrix, playing with her teeth,
then behind her head.  They finished with a cover of "Whole lotta love,"
and Simon was on his feet, whistling and applauding.

   "Hey!"

   Simon looked to his right.

   "Hey!" John was finally able to get his attention.  "You were completely
zoned out there, y'know?  Wanna drink?"

   "Sure, ta!"

   John disappeared.  Simon knew he'd be a while - the bar would be crowded
just after the band had finished, but he'd completely forgotten about the
time, and obviously John hadn't wanted to leave during the set either.

   By the time he'd come back with the drinks Simon was ready for one.  The
heat in the club was making him thirsty.  "I'd better sip this one," he
told John, "I'm on duty tomorrow night."

   "Glad you remembered," grinned John.

   But Simon was paying him no attention again.  He'd spotted someone.

   "Hey!  Loved your playing!" he called, standing up.

   "Thanks!" answered the lead singer of 'Rocksette'.

   "Yeah, he couldn't take his eyes off've you," smiled John, nudging
Simon.

   The singer grinned back.  "I bet it wasn't me, was it?" he asked.  "Hey,
Destiny, you got another fan!"

   The blonde guitarist was right behind him.  Simon had barely heard a
word; he was concentrating on her.  She made eye contact, and smiled at
him.

   "Destiny Angel, at your service," she said.

   "Really?!" Simon blurted, and immediately regretted it as the others all
laughed.

   "No, not really, it's Alison, but Shaun here thinks I look like her
off've 'Captain Scarlet'."

   Simon pulled himself together.  "I thought you all were really, really
good tonight.  Can I get you two a drink?"

   "Sure!" answered the lead singer, Shaun, "Mine's a pint and Alison
drinks rum and black, no ice."

   Simon turned to go, but John grabbed his arm.  "I'll go, you, er,
entertain these two!"

   Simon spluttered his thanks and handed John a fiver.  John winked at
him, turned and left.

   He and the two musicians chatted for a bit, then Shaun made an obvious
excuse and left.

   "He'll be off to find himself a girl, or two, or maybe three!" giggled
Alison.  "The guys and their groupies..."

   Simon smiled back.  "Really?  I thought that was only the big bands,
like The Who or Zeppelin."

   "No!" Alison answered a little shortly, "Even little bands like us get
them."

   "I didn't mean..." Simon blustered, but Alison shushed him with a finger
on his lips.

   "It's okay, I know what you meant.  It's just...  well, we thought we
were going to get a recording contract, but it fizzled out.  Our manager
says he's still looking and we'll get one soon, but I wonder."

   "Do you write your own stuff, then?" Simon asked.

   "Yup, sure do," Alison answered.  "Tonight's gig was covers only, but
I've got an album's worth of songs ready."

   Simon had noted the slip.

   "You.  Not we."

   Alison flushed.  She waved a hand, trying to make light of it.

   "Um.  I meant we.  Didn't I say we?"

   "No, not as such, Alison."

   "Well, I meant it.  Look, can we change the subject?  What do you do?"

   Simon was only too happy to oblige her.

   "I'm a fireman," he answered, a hint of pride in his voice.

   "Cool.  I've never been with a fireman before."

   Simon was surprised by her candour.  He hesitated a moment before
asking, "Do you want to be with this one?"

   Alison smiled at him.  "I thought you'd never ask!"

   - - - - - - - - -

   Simon found John near the bar.  He told him, "Don't worry about giving
me a lift home, I'll be staying here instead."

   "Alison?" he'd asked, and at Simon's nod John clapped him across the
shoulders.  Then he went back to chatting up the pretty young brunette he
was with.

   Just across the road from the club was a motel.  The old guy on
reception didn't bat an eyelid when Simon and Alison walked in together and
asked for a room for the night.  He shoved the registration book across the
desk, fiddled underneath it to find a pen, then grunted, "Room 42 - across
the other side."

   Once in the room, Simon looked around, suddenly a little bashful.  For
all his bravado, and, in truth, some experience too, this was a little
faster and more 'matter-of-fact' than he was used to.

   Alison had no such hang-ups, however.  She took off her coat and went to
the alarm clock on the table beside the bed.

   "I have to set it to half past four, sorry," she told Simon
apologetically.  Simon shrugged.  They'd still have almost four hours to...
whatever.

   Alison smiled at him.  "Are you going to get undressed?" she asked.

   Simon started.  He hurriedly took off his jacket and tie and then began
to get the rest of his clothes off.  Alison was way ahead of him, her slim
figure pale in the harsh room light.  Simon stopped again, staring.  Alison
giggled and said, "Come on then!" and he hurriedly removed the rest of his
clothes.

   'At least the bed's clean', he thought - then conscious thought escaped
him at Alison's touch on his abdomen.  She lifted her hand to stroke his
jaw, feeling the fine stubble there.

   "You know, when I first saw you, I thought you were incredibly good
looking.  But what really impressed me was the way you looked at me.  It
was as if you'd do anything, say anything, be anything just to be with me.
That sort of thing can go to a girl's head."

   Simon finally gained the use of his own hands, and began stroking his
fingers over Alison's slender curves.  "I'd never seen anything quite like
you, Alison.  You're amazing."

   Alison arched an eyebrow and told him, "You don't need the lines now,
boy.  You've already got me in bed."

   "Who said they were lines?" he countered, then to forestall any further
conversation he kissed her.  The kiss began as hot and got hotter, lips
melding together, tongues twisting and turning, tasting each other.  Their
hands roamed freely over each other's bodies, his on her breasts and ass,
hers on his back and the back of his head.  Alison pushed him back against
the bed.  She pulled her groin into contact with his, wrapping her long
legs around him, holding him tightly.  Simon's erection was pulled firmly
into place between them, hard and wetly throbbing.

   "Mmmm," she cooed into his ear.  "I think I'm going to like that!"

   He smiled at her.  But then she said, "There's something I'm sure you'll
like first, though."

   "Uh?" was the best Simon could manage.

   "This is something one of my girlfriends told me about," she said, and
slowly moved down his body, kissing her way, from neck to chest to belly
to...

   Simon couldn't believe it.  He'd heard of it, but neither girl he'd had
sex with before had ever done this for him.  She was actually kneeling in
front of him, sucking his dick!

   He concentrated on the sensations he was feeling, on committing her
actions to memory.  She had about two inches of him inside her mouth,
sucking gently, wrapping her tongue around the crown of his penis.  Then
she lifted up a little and probed the small slit at the top, and Simon
gasped a little at the touch.  She looked up at him and smiled before
descending to the base of his penis, which by then was pulsing in her hand,
and licked up the underside from the base to the crown as if it were the
tastiest of lollipops.

   "Tell me when you're going to shoot," she directed him.

   Then she made an 'O' of her lips and descended upon him, engulfing his
dick in her warm wet mouth, massaging him with her tongue.  Her lips
caressed him then tightened as she sucked hard while slowly pulling up from
about halfway until she held just the tip in her mouth.  She began bobbing
up and down, sucking and working him with her lips and agile tongue.  In no
time at all he was ready to come.

   "I - I'm gonna come!" he warned her, and she pulled away from him,
jacking him with her hand, pointing him at her breasts.  He gasped, and
came, hot white strings of come shooting over the tops of her perfect, pale
tits, making her gasp in turn.  Simon came hard, he felt as if his very
being was coming out of his dick.

   Afterwards he lay back, getting his breath.  Alison sat back on her
haunches, smiling at him, and looking down at her breasts.

   "Mmmm.  I really like it when I do that," she said, a little dreamily.

   "Yeah..." Simon answered.  He looked at her, seeing his pearly come
dripping down her body, decorating her breasts in the most erotic way.

   They lay together for a while, stroking each other, gently kissing. 
Alison made no attempt to clean off Simon's semen, and though he was put
off by it at first he soon stopped noticing it, except as an aid to erotic,
sensuous touching.

   Alison felt his dick hardening and smiled at him.  "Now, you can take
care of me," she told him, seductively and he hardened still more.

   Simon sat up, and stated to kiss her.  She responded hungrily, and once
more their hands roamed freely over each other's bodies.  Simon pulled them
to the bed where they lay on their sides facing each other, still devouring
each other.  Simon felt her hand on his, moving lower down her abdomen.  He
felt for her cleft with his middle finger and found it, hot and slippery.
Alison's hair was soft and springy under his hand as he pushed his finger
in up to the second knuckle, and Alison moaned into his mouth.

   "Get me wet, first, as wet as you can," she breathed.  He withdrew his
finger, spreading the moisture around her, preparing her for him.

   He rolled her over onto her back and she spread her legs, lifting her
knees a little.  He knelt before her, leant forward and took his weight on
one arm while aiming himself with the other, rolling the head of his dick
in the slick moisture of her pussy before easing himself inside.  Alison
hissed and thrust her hips forward to impale herself more quickly, and soon
Simon was in her tight, hot embrace as far as he could go.

   Slowly at first he began to thrust and withdraw, feeling the walls of
her sex gripping him despite the copious slippery fluid there.  "God,
you're wonderful!" he gasped, and Alison giggled a little.  Simon kept up
the slow pace for a short while, Alison moving with him as they established
a natural rhythm.  He felt her legs pushing at his buttocks as she
indicated he should go a little faster.  Despite having just come Simon
could feel that his next orgasm wasn't far from arriving.  Alison was
moaning and gasping under him, and he felt her vaginal muscles gripping and
releasing him.

   Simon could hold back no longer.  He thrust into Alison as hard and fast
as he could, then with a yell he pushed himself into her one final time,
feeling his come coursing through his dick.  He held himself rigid for a
moment before collapsing sideways onto the bed, chest heaving.

   Alison rolled onto her side, cuddling into his chest.  He felt her
moving against him, and was puzzled for a moment until he realised she was
humping against his hip.  Rousing himself, Simon rolled to meet her,
placing his hand at her lower lip, feeling the slippery wetness there,
knowing that it was his fluid he was feeling.  She reached down and took
his finger in hers, placing it where she wanted.  He inserted his middle
finger, then added another while Alison began rubbing her clit furiously.

   Alison gasped and bucked, and her fingers went into overdrive.  She
didn't stop when she stiffened and cried aloud, she didn't stop until he
could feel her grasping his fingers deep inside her, spasming against them
in rhythm with her cries of release.  Seeing Alison in the throes of her
orgasm was amazing.  Simon thought he'd never seen anything quite so
beautiful as the wonderful slim blonde as she arched her back, face
contorted in pleasure.  Then she grabbed his hand and forced it away as she
became too sensitive to continue.

   Afterwards they lay together in post-orgasmic bliss until they dropped
into the land of Nod.

   Alison woke him when the alarm went off, kissed him and said, "Thanks,
Simon.  I really enjoyed tonight."

   He blinked at her for a moment, wondering what, where, why, until he
came to properly.  Then he focussed on the pretty blonde figure sitting
fully dressed on the bed beside him.

   "Uh, thanks.  You're a pretty wonderful person to be with, too."

   Alison looked down at him fondly for a moment before taking a deep
breath.

   "Well.  I have to go.  Maybe we'll hook up sometime?"

   "I'd really like that.  Is there a number I can reach you at, or an
address?"

   Alison hesitated a moment before opening her bag and grabbing a pen and
notebook.  Simon saw that the pages were covered in tiny writing, and
looked quizzically at her.  Alison explained, "It's my song-writing book."

   She tore a blank page out, quickly wrote an address on it and gave the
paper to Simon.  "This is my parent's address, I pop in there every now and
then so you can reach me there."

   She left the page on the bedside table, leaned over and kissed him,
whirled and left.

   - - - - - - - - -

   The following morning, John asked Simon, "So how'd you get on?"

   Simon had the happy aura of a guy who'd got laid last night. 
"Brilliant. Alison's got rhythm all right!  How about you?"

   Privately Simon had hoped it was more, but...

   "I did okay, too.  You can meet her tomorrow night, we're going out
again.  What about you and Alison?"

   "Nah, she's off somewhere for another gig."

   "Shame.  Still, she gets to see a lot of different places, I suppose."

   "Yeah.  Alison said it made a change from shagging in the back of the
band van, though." Simon paused in thought for a moment.  "She seems far
too nice for that kind've existence, you know.  I was really taken with
her."

   John eyed his friend.  "That taken?"

   "Well, it's not as if I'll be seeing her again, I expect.  Nah, not
taken that much.  But man, she was good!"

   'But,' he reflected, 'She did leave her address.  I could write.'

   'I could...'

   - - - - - - - - -

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   Winter Fires, by steveh11
   Page 1 of 14