Shower By Lauren Metal

*** *** ***

Heavy boots hit the floor.

Sooty turnouts soon followed.

Then came the sweaty t-shirt, FDNY emblazoned boldly on the back.

Tight and tattered jeans.

Jimmy Doherty headed for the showers and left a soiled trail in his wake.

The floor was covered, his body now bare except for the black boxer briefs that clung to his thighs like a second skin.

His shoulders ached. He'd overdone it at the gym.

He rolled his head from side to side. The tenseness was more than he could take. The sixty pound pack he'd carried all afternoon was tearing at his taught muscles like never before.

He felt old.

He'd found at least four gray hairs in mirror that morning and maybe more the day before. He'd been quick to pluck them but he knew he'd only be finding more in the days, months, years to come.

He found it hard to believe that Joey was turning 10 in a day and a half, because it seemed like only yesterday he was a crying, screaming, wrinkly looking newborn he was NOT ready to handle.

He wasn't old enough to have a 10-year-old son.

Jimmy slid his boxer briefs to the floor, stopping only to glance at his bare ass in the spider-cracked mirror mounted to the wall.


The sight reassured him that his fears were for naught.

Of course, if only he'd paid a little more attention, he would have seen the paramedic shirt and slacks that already littered the trail to his final destination.

The black lace bra.

The thong.

Jimmy didn't even hear the sound of water, already running, as he made his way to the showers.

It wasn't until it was too late that he realized he was not alone.

He froze. Like a deer in headlights, he couldn't move.

He knew he should get out of there while he could, but he couldn't do it.

She was his ex-wife. She was beautiful and naked, a combination he could never resist.

And she definitely didn't see him.

Kim's eyes were closed tight, the delicate features of her face puckered as the warm water kissed her soft skin.

Jimmy watched in awe as soapy suds and water trailed down her neck, shoulders, torso, and mile long legs before pooling at the floor.

This is definitely not what he'd had in mind when he'd decided to go upstairs, unwind, and cool off.

His instincts told him to flee, to run far and fast and not look back.

But he wanted to look and more.

He wanted to touch.

He wanted to hold her, kiss her, touch her.

She was the one who had always made him feel alive.

He wanted to feel alive again.

He just hoped she didn't kill him.

As he watched, her eyes fluttered open and her sights fell on his naked skin.

He smiled at her surprise and more, at her lack of an attempt to cover up.

A low moan echoed from his throat as her fingertips continued to trail her baby soft skin.

She smiled back and, without saying a word, motioned him towards her.

His approach was slow and cautious and when her hand reached out for his, he knew he must be dreaming.

She drew him close and the sensation of bare flesh against bare flesh told him this was very real.

Water cascaded around them and inhaled the steam, the smell of her shampoo, the scent of desire.

"Jimmy," she breathed.

He loved the way his name rolled off her tongue. It felt like coming home.

Their lips met, at first in the gentlest of kisses, then, a long, hot, searing one.

Lips. Teeth. Tongue.

It was the kind of kiss they were famous for, the kind of passion they had only ever been able to evoke in each other.

They knew they shouldn't be doing this.

Especially not now. Especially not here.

But with his hands on her breasts, her hands on his ass, Jimmy never felt so young and things never felt so right.

*** *** *** ***