She couldn’t resist men in uniforms.
It had happened again. The fire alarms in the block were over-sensitive, so every few weeks a fire engine would arrive outside, sirens blaring, and men would leap out, only to discover it was another false alarm. There was always a long delay before they left – perhaps because paperwork had to be completed. She was determined to nab one tonight.
She’d been saving up her glass bottles for weeks, to ensure that the recycling would be really heavy. She grabbed the green box and struggled outside with it. As she passed the loitering firemen, one of them offered to carry it to the recycling enclosure – it was that simple.
She was good at this. Within a few minutes he had agreed to call around at her place at the end of his shift. She could hardly wait to lure him into her bedroom.
She put on the baby-doll nightie which she had bought for just such an occasion. Her drawers were stuffed with similar scraps of lacy whimsy, but she liked to get a new one for each assignation.
By the time the bell rang she was in a frenzy of anticipation, unsure about whether they would make it to her perfumed lair before she tore his clothes off.
She opened the door. Her glance swept briefly over his ageing, uneven features, taking in the fleecy jacket and jogging bottoms which stretched over a corpulant body. With a look of disgust, she blocked his entry and slammed the door in his face.
She walked with dignity to the bedroom, removed her sexy nightie and threw it into the drawer; another wasted expense.
Just like all the others, he looked different out of uniform.
This challenge was written in response to mylovingwife#tuesdayuseitinasentence. It should have been posted yesterday, but I only discovered it today, and couldn’t resist adding my tuppenceworth.
©Jane Paterson Basil