It still wasn’t done…
Naturally, the identity of the hero firefighter became known. When the woman turned out to be an incredibly pretty, six-foot-tall lesbian who was built like Wonder Woman’s sister…well,
then the footage went galactically-super-viral. If there were people living on one of the moons of Saturn, they would have seen it. What’s more, if there were lesbians living as far away from Earth as Pluto, they would have known the name Becca Roberts.
Becca had no idea about any of this. At least, not immediately.
The morning after the fire, Saturday, her 24-hour shift at Carlsbad Fire Station 3 ended at 8 a.m. and she had gone home and collapsed in bed, utterly exhausted. Her orange-and-white tabby, Mrs. O’Leary, deciding to share this naptime with her human, had jumped up on the bed and curled up right in front of Becca’s face, forcing Becca to turn her head the other way in order to keep breathing.
Becca, who had showered and changed at the fire station right after the fire, had slept soundly for six hours, not even bothering to take off the clothes she had worn home. Waking up, her face once more full of Mrs. O’Leary’s fur, she looked at the clock, seeing it was now almost 3 p.m.
Ignoring Mrs. O’Leary’s meowed protest, Becca rose up out of bed, went to pee and then splashed some cold water on her face. She had the next two days off and she decided right now that this one was going to be spent at home reading, mindlessly watching television and eating pizza. Perhaps later, she considered, she’d treat herself to a slice of the chocolate cream pie she had made on Thursday night, leaving it to set all of Friday while she was on duty at the fire station.
She had tried something different with her usual recipe this time. Instead of making the crust with normal Oreos, she had used the Golden Oreos. Additionally, she had added a layer of caramel to the top of the chocolate pudding before covering it with the whipped cream. It was going to be super decadent and she was anxious to try it.
But first…out of these clothes.
She stripped naked and then chose a white spandex tank, clean underwear and pj shorts to put on. This was going to be the outfit du jour and she was fine with that; even better, it was going to be a bra-free day.
In her kitchen, she chose herbal tea over coffee, turned her electric kettle on and then decided to check the mail. Because her mailbox was attached to her house right next to her front door, she had no qualms about stepping outside just enough to see what the mail carrier left her, even though she was braless in a top through which her pink nipples could clearly be seen.
With a Golden Oreo between her teeth to curb her hunger until she ordered the pizza, she opened her front door.
Dozens of flashbulbs started exploding in her face, startling her, blinding her! And voices…how many, she couldn’t say; they were all overlapping one another, shouting what sounded like questions at her. Her brain was only able to decipher snippets from the cacophony.
“Becca!”
“Chief Roberts!
“Becca, what was it like on that roof—”
“…risk your life saving…”
“…scared of falling also?”
“…does it feel to be a hero…”
“…consider yourself an inspiration to women, especially gay women?”
“Chief!”
“Becca!”
“Chief!”
There had to be at least two dozen people on her front lawn who were surging forward, holding microphones and cellphones out towards her, while others were snapping photos. Somehow, between the flashes, she was able to notice that the street in front of her house was clogged with news vans and other vehicles.
“What the fuck!” she uttered. Her head felt like it was spinning, a condition not at all helped by those damn flashbulbs continuously popping and creating spots in her eyes.
Flashbulbs! Photos!
Suddenly, Becca finally came to her senses enough to remember what she was wearing! Her unharnessed girls were not nearly small enough to go unnoticed!
Fuck!
She practically flung herself back into her house, slamming the door shut behind her, and then stood leaning against it, panting.
Seriously, what the fuck!