Saved By The Firefighter
Chapter 69

Joanne's Point of View.

I pull on my spanks, you know, the ones that go to the top of your knees, and up to just under your boobs, that make you feel like you cannot breathe properly. I say a silent prayer the weather is not to hot today, as these oversized modern forms of t*****e that give you a flat tummy, also make you sweat, and that is just not nice. However, I will take the feeling of being constricted, and risk the sweating of areas that have no right to do so, because I bought myself a knee length form fitting black skirt, for work, along with a dusky pink blouse that, for once, I intend to tuck in the waist band, rather than leaving it hanging over the top to hide my many bellies.

Yes, I am dressing to impress, and yes, I am probably nothing more than an old fool, but irrespective if my clothes catch the eye of whip-me, like I had envisaged when purchasing them online, they will give me a boost of much needed confidence in my appearance. Not one for make-up, I pull out my other treat to myself, some anti-aging stuff, that is supposed to 'brighten my eyes, and give me that youthful glow', after studying some online tutorials on how to put make up on for the over-50s, I sit down in front of the dressing table mirror and begin to apply this stuff to my face. Once I am done, I sit back and take in my reflection. Not bad, even if I do say so myself. With a quick go over my hair with the straighteners, I grab my bag, and pop on a pair of low heals. Yeah, to old for the stilettos I once wore, those kill your feet, and I am in enough pain with the spanks constricting my stomach.

I make my way down the stairs, and grab Cals application form, placing it in my purse, ready to process as soon as I get into the station, then head out the door, to make my way for the bus. As I walk down the short path, through the gate, I blink, not quite believing my eyes. Whip-me, is stood looking as handsome as ever by his car.

"Oh, Joanne, I just caught you." He smiles at me.

s**t, my heart pounds in my chest, and my difficulty to breathe properly, becomes even more pronounced. I really need to get a grip on my emotions, I sound like a teenage girl, with hormone overload. Maybe I need to stop reading those romance books online, next I will be saying I feel sparks or tingles, or some s**t they love to write about, but like many a romantic reader I lap it up.

"Hi," I manage to say, hoping this new make up on my face covers my instant blushing cheeks.

"I thought I would come get you, I am heading into the office early again, save you the bus journey," he continues, opening the door to his car, then standing back for me to climb inside.

Now climbing into a car is a normal everyday thing, but it becomes an embarrassing challenge, when dressed in a tight skirt, with tighter spanks, that somehow have stopped my ability to bend down to a sitting position. So, my graceful entrance into the passenger seat, ends up with a grunt and groan, as I flop down in a half-lying position, then have to kind of lift my legs together to get them inside and then be able to somehow sit myself back up. Smooth Joanne, real smooth.

Closing the door, whip-me gives a small smirk, with a shake of his head chuckling away to himself as he rounds the car and opens his door, climbing inside.

Ground, swallow me up ... PLEASE.

We head off in silence, and my need to talk when feeling embarrassed and nervous takes over, instantly disengaging my mouth from my brain.

"I have Cals application," I tell him, just for something to say.

"Good, I will make a call to rush it through," Whip-me states in his deep baritone voice ... see, ... far too many romance books, but honestly, it is deep, and it is baritone.

"It is here in my bag, look. Ben brought it this morning, before taking Lucy to work, then going home to bed, to sleep," I ramble like an i***t, rummaging around in my bag and pulling it out triumphantly.

"I believe you." Whip-me chuckles again.

I stuff Cals application back into my bag, then fall into silence again, losing the ability to even converse coherently, I decide it is better to just keep my mouth shut.

"You look very sexy today, Joanne," Whip-me, says his eyes fixed on the road ahead with a smirk on his gorgeous face.

"Erm," I mumble, not sure what to say to that, I mean, thank you should be the go-to, but I cannot seem to form a single word now, after my verbal diarrhoea moments ago.

"But then again, I always think you look sexy. Every day." Whip-me grins.

Wow, did I just hear that right!

s**t.

Get your coat Joanne... you have pulled!

"Erm," I mutter again, as my cheeks burn, and I feel a slight moistening between my legs. Now I am not sure if that is 'Arousal pooling out of my body' as the book I read last night said of the female lead, or the spanks, but hell, it is making my heartbeat even faster. Maybe I need a trip to A and E to check I am not having a coronary attack caused by lack of blood flow to my heart, due to very tight-fitting shapewear.

Whip-me chuckles again, as I sit, realising, my mouth is literally open, like a perfect O shape, and I am staring at him, as if I have lost the plot.

Closing my mouth, I turn to look out of the window, as I know that no amount of makeup will cover my utter embarrassment, I am probably looking like a tomato right now, but with a fake dewy youthful glow. "How was your morning?" Whip-me asks, breaking the embarrassed silence.

"Yes, good. I was very busy," I tell him, omitting the fact my busyness, was caused by watching YouTube makeup tutorials for the elderly, and squeezing myself into underwear Bridget Jones would be proud of. "What about yours?" I ask him.

"It was spent in bed, sleeping." Whip-me chuckles again.

s**t, he has the male lead chuckling down to a fine art right about now. Of course, he was sleeping, he is on nightshift, what a moron I am. God help me, he must think I am a complete i***t ... maybe I could blame the menopause. In fact... I do blame the menopause, because I am acting like a hormonal i***t.

"Dream of anything nice?" I ask, before my brain catches up with my mouth.

"Very nice." Whip-me turns and grins, then winks at me.

Oh. My. Word. He is flirting again, okay, that moist feeling is definitely not the spanks, because my n*****s are straining against my cotton granny bra that gives extra lift, but makes your shoulders burn with pain.

"Very nice indeed," he groans slightly under his breath, as we finally turn onto the small lane that leads to the fire station.

Pulling the car up into the small carpark, Whip-me turns the engine off, then places his arm around the back of my seat, looking at me intently.

"So, I was wondering if on Sunday night, when I am on my time off, if you would like to maybe go out for a meal with me?" Whip-me asks.

My eyes open wide, as I once more stare at him open mouthed, and lose the ability to form a coherent sentence.

Whip-me shuffles slightly in his seat, his hopeful look, suddenly fades, as I try and find my voice to say, HELL YES.

He looks down, removing his arm, and clears his throat.

"I thought I was not alone in this. Sorry," he mumbles, his previous confidence disappearing at a rate of knots.

"You're not," I finally manage to say.

"Alone in this, I mean," I qualify, as his waning confidence, kind of gives my own a boost.

Whip-me flashes me the biggest, brightest smile, as he nods his head at me.

"But I don't understand," I say, wishing I could for once just shut up and say yes please, but my insecurity decides to take over.

"I am old, fat, and well, my underwear is so big and tight I think it has cut off the oxygen supply to my brain," I ramble.

Oh, for heavens sake, why can I not just shut up right now.

Whip-me turns and looks at me a small grin on his face.

"You are not old, only a few years older than me," he begins.

"Ten, ten years older than you, a whole decade," I state the facts.

"Age is just a number. Also, you are not fat, you are curvy, and I happen to like every last inch of those curves. So... Joanne Bishop, you are not aloud to put yourself down any longer. Do you understand?" he tells me, his eyes boring into mine, letting me know just how serious he is right now.

"But," I begin to say.

"No buts," Whip-me stated, then before I can even blink, his lips brush against mine, for a few seconds.

Yeah, definitely not the spanks making me moist, and hell, if I do not feel those tingles I read about last night.

"So, just to qualify, I like you as you are, all of you. I will pick you up at 7 on Sunday night." He grins placing his forehead on mine.

"Okay," I breathe, blinking my eyes in shock, as Whip-me opens his door, then runs around the car to open mine.

I look up at him, realising, I am not able to get my legs out of the car, because of this tight skirt.

"Erm, I think I need a bit of help getting out," I tell him, once more feeling the heat form on my cheeks, or is it another hot flush, who knows at this point.

"My pleasure." Whip-me laughs, then reaches out, grabbing me by the waist, and lifts me out of the car, before shutting the door behind me, then placing me down onto the ground.

"Erm, thanks," I say looking down in embarrassment.

"Now, do you need me to hoist you over my shoulder so you can get up the stairs," Whip-me teases.

"At least wait till after the date," I joke back, as he throws his head back and laughs.

"Oh, that will most definitely happen, one day." Whip-me winks again.

OH. MY. WORD. YES, YES PLEASE!