Caught in the Fire Engine Lights

She stood there in the shower, letting the hot water wash over her. It had been a long day, punctuated by a pop quiz in calculus, an unintelligible lecture on the nervous system from a TA who spoke something that might resemble English on paper but in no way resembled it coming out of his mouth, and a dinner at the dining hall made up of some kind of mystery meat substitute. All she wanted in the world now was to relax here in the foggy warmth and then bundle up in her flannel sheets and three-inch comforter and lie still in the dark of her room. Jasmine would probably make a stink about having to relocate her studying to the study room downstairs, but tonight she didn't really care. She was just too tired to put up with her roommate's Sex Pistols-sugar fueled-open-air-til-it-froze-your-eyeballs study routine tonight.

She rubbed the shower puff over her shoulders and down between her breasts, massaging the soap in and the stress out. Her long red hair hung dark and wet, her curls heavy with the weight of water, down her back. She wondered, as she often did in the middle of a shower, if perhaps she could just stay in here indefinitely. It always seemed like such a shock to her system -- that moment when she turned the water off and felt the rush of cool air pick its way through the steam and finally to her bare skin. But, she consoled herself with thoughts of her warm bed waiting for her, and, with a sigh, reached out and turned the tap off.

It happened so suddenly that she thought she must somehow have caused it by turning off the water -- the ear-splitting screech of the dorm's fire alarm. It seemed almost to come from inside her head, so piercing was it, and it startled her so much she slipped a little as she turned to reach for her towel.

She dried herself quickly, then wrapped the purple towel around her and headed for her room at the other end of the hall. The towel came just to the underside of her bottom, and she padded quickly on her small bare feet as the girls in the hallway buzzed around her, heading for the stairs. She'd never been one for showing off her body. She was even shy in front of her roommate, Jasmine, always finding some way to dress when the other girl was out, even on one or two occasions resorting to putting her clothes on IN the shower while she was still damp so that no one would see her. Jasmine, of course, was of a completely different nature. She seemed to Melissa almost a kind of nymphomaniac, lying around nude in the room half the time, and even talking brazenly to the completely embarrassed Melissa about different shapes she shaved into her pubic hair and which of her breasts was larger than the other.

Melissa wasn't sure when she had become so shy about her body. Her shyness seemed always to have been with her. She knew she had a good body, a flat, toned stomach, long shapely legs, pale ivory skin, and breasts that were large but firm with strawberry pink aureoles an inch and a half wide. She'd seen the way even some of her professors looked at her freshman body, let alone other boys in her classes. But in some ways, it was precisely because she knew she looked so good naked that she was so cautious about keeping her body to herself. She wasn't a prude exactly, but it was somehow as if she had access to something precious and valuable and was jealous of letting anyone else see it.

And perhaps more secretive than any other part of her body, she hid her pussy. Of course, it was only natural to keep that part between her legs, especially hidden, but Melissa thought of it as a special secret. Of course, she knew everyone knew. Her entire high school career, she'd been called every name in the book from "fire-crotch" to "cherry-box" to "flame-pants." With the mass of red curls on her head, how could she have anything but a red-haired pussy. But only she had ever actually seen it. Only her crystal blue eyes knew what that other mass of curls that sat at the bottom of her belly actually looked like, how bright this patch was next to her pale skin, and how it gleamed in the bright light from her desk when she had looked in the mirror sometimes as a young girl. So as she made her way towards her room, one hand held the top of her towel up to her breasts, but the other held the bottom of the towel's front close to her thighs, almost tucking it in between her legs as she walked.

She was still two rooms away from her own when she saw Jasmine coming towards her wearing pajama bottoms and a tank top. Jasmine's breasts, small as they were, were clearly visible in outline through the white material, and the girl grinned a wicked grin as she passed Melissa. "Sucks," she said as she passed, but with obvious irony. The little show-off, Melissa thought.

Just behind Jasmine, though, was Stacy, their floor resident assistant. Stacy was an older girl, a senior, and hardened by two years of experience as an RA. She was known for being strict and for never letting anyone get away with anything. Melissa had seen her, only a couple of weeks earlier, writing up two girls on their floor for smelling of alcohol, telling both of them in no uncertain terms that she would see them at their disciplinary hearing. As she usually did, Stacy, coming down the hall now, had a firm, almost grimaced expression on her face.

"Downstairs, downstairs," she said in a strict voice to a group of girls behind Melissa. Then she noticed Melissa coming towards her. "Where are you going? Downstairs, downstairs," as though it were a mantra.

"I was just going to grab something to throw on," Melissa said to her briskly, pointing behind the RA to where her door was, ten yards further down the hallway.

"No, I'm sorry, head downstairs."

"But--" Melissa began.

"Downstairs, downstairs." She said it as though she were a machine.

"But Stacy," the younger girl's voice said with new urgency, "I'm not wearing anything under here." She hated even admitting that, but this situation was ridiculous.

"No, downstairs," and the older girl actually took her by the shoulders, spun her around, and began pushing her back down the hall.

Melissa dug in with her heels then, though her feet slipped and slid over the tile. "No!" she actually found herself yelling.

Stacy stopped then and confronted her charge: "Head downstairs, or I'll write you up for endangering the building." She stared with steely black eyes, clearly meaning it.

The poor eighteen year old was far too intimidated to protest further. Her eyes began to tear up, but she hung her head, turned slowly and began shuffling towards the stairs, unwilling to risk a confrontation with an authority figure, even one who was, like her, only a student.

*****

The sidewalk outside was packed with students, guys and girls, all temporarily displaced from their homes as the alarm continued to wail. As Melissa walked out the double glass doors a fire engine's siren joined the cacophony as the huge red truck pulled up in the middle of all the chaos. Great, she thought, more witnesses to my shame.

In truth, of the more than two hundred students milling about, most were in some state of undress or other. Melissa spotted Jasmine, the braless wonder, chatting up a group of guys near one corner of the building, but there were plenty of girls in pjs and fuzzy slippers, and guys in little more than boxers. Still, her own situation was far worse. Never mind the fact that a towel could slip from her hands at any moment (or be yanked), even with it on she could tell the cheeks of her behind could be seen by everyone. The effect was worse because she kept tugging the front of the towel down, anxious to hide the red curls between her legs, which only made the back end hitch up higher.

Two firemen, smelling of soot, pushed past her, nearly knocking her over. Just what she needed, to be lying flat on her back with her bare legs in the air. They moved so quickly she barely had a chance to see anything other than a whir of yellow gear.

She scanned the crowd hopefully, looking for a familiar face, but other than Jasmine, she saw no one she recognized. On the other hand, a number of people had begun to notice her, mostly guys. More and more seemed to be looking her way, nodding or raising their eyebrows in appreciation. In fact, she began to grow more nervous as it seemed like the eddies in the current of students brought more guys closer to her. She could hear them talking -- she couldn't make out everything, but the word "red" kept coming up over and over.

A couple of the more aggressive voices seemed directed at her: "real redhead?" "Natural curls?" "Ginger pussy?"

She begun to back away, more towards the truck, though she had no idea how being closer to a fire engine would help her plight. Just about the time she reached it, her back to the door, a hand from the crowd reached out and flipped up the bottom of the towel, so that just for an instant she felt a breeze across her pubic mound.

The tears had begun to well up again then, as her body had tensed to ward off any further attacks.

Suddenly, the passenger's side door to the engine opened, and she could see a hand beckoning her to enter. What choice did she have? She allowed the hand to pull her up into the cab, and the next thing she knew the door had closed and she was sitting on the hard cushion of the tuck's seat, safe for the moment from molestation.

"Looks like you're in a tough spot," the driver said. He was blonde, about 30, Melissa judged, with a muscular physique held taut within a blue t-shirt. His hair hung down, ragged around his chiseled face, and he gave her a big grin. She noticed he didn't wear the gear the others had worn, and though there was still a slight smell of smoke, it was much less about him than it had been about the two who had nearly knocked her over.

He held out his hand: "I'm Jamie. Nice to meet you."

Melissa took it, smiling gratefully: "I'm Melissa. Thanks for, you know, saving me."

"Glad to," Jamie replied cheerfully. "Always willing to help out a girl in distress, and you really seem like you're in some distress."

For the first time since she'd been shoved down the hallway, Melissa actually un-tensed, giving a short laugh.

She told him, then, how she'd come to be in this position in the first place, and he commiserated with her about RAs who tend to let too much authority go to their heads: "Seems like it would have been only reasonable to let you throw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt or something."

"You'd think," she said, feeling bolder now that someone seemed to be taking her side, and after all, someone with some authority when it came to fire alarms.

There was a thump then on the window beside her, just someone bumping into the cab, but in her state, it had made her jump, and she'd found herself in the middle of the seat, only an inch or two from Jamie.

"Hey, it's OK," he reassured her, slipping his arm around her shoulders to comfort her.

Without thinking, she moved closer to him, snuggling up in the crook of his arm like a frightened rabbit and pulling her towel tightly around her. It was instinctual, and yet the moment she had settled there she felt something very different, a longing to be held, to be touched, to be comforted by this man.

With his one arm around her shoulders, his other hand reached up to move a stray curl from in front of her face, and as she looked up into his blue eyes, her vulnerability pushed her face towards his, her mouth towards his mouth, and they came together in a kiss. It was gentle at first, her tender lips simply feeling his, experiencing the sensation. And then slowly the kiss blossomed, their mouths opening gently so that the tips of their tongues came together. It was quiet in the cab, but for the sound of their breathing, so close next to one another's faces.

He seemed to pull away just for a moment, and now he seemed like the frightened rabbit. "I shouldn't--"

"It's OK," she said, sliding herself closer. "You're not." She reached up with her hand then, to stroke his cheek, pulling his face back towards her and then nuzzling his nose with hers before kissing him once again.

He had saved her by bringing her in here, but suddenly she felt herself the aggressor. Her hands ran over his chest, reveling in each hard muscle. Her face moved down to his neck, as her hands roved lower then, to his belly, and down so that it rested on the bulging cock inside his pants. She had never in her life done something like this, but it felt good. It felt right.

He seemed afraid to touch her. She let go the upper edge of her towel and pressed her breasts against his arm, encouraging him to feel her. And he took up her challenge, moving his roughened hand to cup her breast, kneading it softly. At the same time, he shifted in his seat so that his penis was now within her grasp.

She needed more, and she reached to the clasp of his pants, quickly undoing it with one hand before pushing that hand down into his underwear to feel the warm flesh of his cock. She stroked him then, feeling the head between her fingers and then taking the length of him in her palm.

His mouth moved to her nipples, as she ducked her head down and, with his help, pushed his pants down around his legs so that she could see the penis she was holding. It was large and muscular, like the rest of him, seven inches long at least. Without pretense, she took him in her mouth, her hand still tight around the shaft, and began to suck. Above her, she could hear him moan in pleasure, and she used her tongue to massage the tip, bringing even more sighs.

When he could take no more from her mouth, he stroked her hair, bringing his hand to her chin and raising her up. "I want to fuck you," he said. "Will you--"

"Yes," she said a little breathlessly, again feeling herself in charge somehow, despite their differences in age.

He slid to the side, away from the steering wheel, and again, without thinking about it and without hesitation, she climbed atop him, leaving the towel remaining completely on the seat now. She was naked as she put one knee on each side of him and allowed him to slowly slide inside her.

He felt so warm between her lips, so hard and full. She rocked her hips forward and backward, feeling the delicious way he slid in and out. Reaching down between them, her fingers touched her clit, rubbing sensuously in time to their lovemaking.

Again, a sharp sound from the window beside them, and this time they both gave a start, looking up to see that this was more than some clumsy football player stumbling about. A crowd had gathered outside. The cab of the truck was surrounded by her dorm-mates, all watching, pointing and laughing at the sexual spectacle unfolding before them. Instinctively, she curled herself tightly against Joe, pressing her breasts against his chest, her crotch grinding into his in an effort to hide her nudity. He held her, his large hands wrapping around her protectively, helping to cover her from view.

But in an instant, it all seemed suddenly so silly. What could she possibly hide at this point? And anyway, the feel of Jamie's penis deep in her belly was simply too delicious. Relaxing her muscles, she moved her chest away from his, until her tits were completely on display to everyone outside. Then she resumed riding him, only now she was determined to put on a show. Her hips rocked sensuously back and forth, her ass pushing up into the air on every outward thrust. Joe, understanding the new game, lay his head back and closed his eyes as she fucked him, her breasts bobbing up and down, her clit grinding against him.

At length, she made yet one more decision, and leaning back as far as she could, almost flat, exposed her white belly, and the patch of red hair that lay between her legs. There was more noise outside the cab, what sounded maybe like cheering, and she knew everyone there could see not only her red bush but also Joe's cock as it slid in and out of her. She moved her hand down, not to cover up this time, but rather to enhance her own pleasure, and as the crowd continued to cheer, she began to rub her clit with wild abandon as Joe continued to thrust.

They came together in one crashing orgasm. They were quiet, as though they would somehow hide what they were doing from everyone eagerly watching, but the silence couldn't hide their pleasure. Jamie pushed himself far up inside her and froze as his come pumped into her. At the same time, her own body went rigid, tensing as the waves began to hit her too.

The crowd began to cheer as she slowly climbed off Jamie. She gave him a soft kiss on the lips and whispered in his ear, "Thank you for saving me."

Then she climbed out of the cab, leaving her towel inside, and began to walk back toward the dorm, the students all peeling back to make way for her.

They were letting everyone back inside now, and Stacy, who was holding one of the double glass doors, gaped at her as she walked naked across the pavement. "What do you think you're doing? I'm writing you up for this!"

Melissa stopped in front of her and looked her right in the eye: "You sent me out in nothing but a towel. Somebody stole it."

Stacy was speechless as Melissa walked on in. Yes, it had been a difficult start to college. Somehow, though, she suspected her time here might be improving, just a little.