Smoke Jumper - Sex Stories

Smoke Jumper

... over her shoulders in waves of chestnut that caught the light. It was nearly the death of those second-hand jeans.

It was his turn to get caught staring as Brooke’s eyes caught his from across the room. A little smile lit up her face, but she coyly turned away. Her air of composure was shattered, however, when one of her drunken friends looked over and said, loudly enough to be heard over the music, “Damn, Brooke, if you don’t want him throw him my way!”

Encouraged, Jake finished his beer, took a deep breath, and looked for an opportunity to reintroduce himself. When he did, the rest of the bachelorette party reacted like a pack of high school sophomores, letting loose with a chorus of “oohs!” and “He’s cute!” pushing Brooke in his direction as they went to claim a table in the corner. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Excuse my so-called friends,” she said rolling her eyes.

“No problem,” he replied and offered to buy her a drink. They quickly grabbed a table in the middle of the bar and commenced the ritual that is the first date. He shared the story of how he wound up sitting atop a seventy-five-foot tower on a mountaintop (leaving out the part about the girlfriend and the second-string quarterback). She countered with the tale of how she had grown up in Libby and couldn’t wait to leave. She went off to college in Seattle but got roped into coming home for the summer when her aunt, the librarian gave birth to twins. Much to her chagrin, it looked like she ...

... might have to stick around through the fall.

After about an hour she excused herself to use the ladies' room while Jake got drinks. When he sat down he heard a ruckus across the room and saw Brooke trying to move away from a drunken cowboy who wasn’t taking no for an answer until she ended the conversation by yelling, “Fuck off, Brad!” which could be heard throughout the bar. She returned to the table trying not to look cross.

“Um, would you like to go somewhere else,” Jake offered.

“No!,” she replied. “That’s Brad. Every time he gets drunk, he forgets I broke up with him over two years ago. He can find somewhere else to go - hopefully to hell.”

They laughed off the interruption and soon were again lost in conversations about jobs, books, music, and what they wanted out of life. Things were going well, and Jake was starting to believe that fate had finally done him a favor when a shadow was cast over their table by a swaying Brad.

“Come on, Brooke, it’s our song. Let’s dance,” he insisted.

“Brad, maybe you didn’t hear me before, I said, fuck off!”

“Yeah, well maybe you didn’t hear me when I suggested that there were better uses for that dirty little mouth of yours than being rude to me!”

Jake’s chair squealed as he slowly pushed it away from the table and prepared to stand, but Brooke, told him to stay put, she could handle this.

Uncomfortably, Jake sat listening to Brooke fend off Brad's advances. Finally, Brad said, “Is it this guy here that’s in ...