White-Hot and Boom-Boom-Boom

Chapter One: Fireworks in the Sky

New Mexico is starting to feel crowded. I don't know whether to blame Vince Gilligan and his decision to set Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul here or if it's just the increasingly volatile weather and real estate prices on the coast that's to blame. Maybe all of it.

I moved to White Sands after college to work on some projects that I shouldn't say any more about. After 20 years of working for Uncle Sam, I chose to move north to Santa Fe to work in IT. I always liked the idea of one day retiring to the artist community in Taos, and living in Santa Fe makes commuting to my future residence for visits easier.

I never married--mostly because the women I dated told me they never felt like I was very open with them, and they said that made it hard to trust me. My parents worked for the Defense Department on classified projects, and I grew up to work on classified projects, too. I never really revealed much about myself or my family. Usually when a woman broke up with me, she said she was convinced I was keeping secrets from her. Honestly, I was keeping secrets from everyone, but none of those secrets had anything to do with life away from work.

In Santa Fe, my job is with the local hospital system doing remote server maintenance on their data farm. I am on call a couple of times a month and sometimes have to go to our data center for hardware or software upgrades, but most of my work is done remotely from my office at home.

Home is a two-bedroom townhouse about a ten-minute walk from the Sandhill Roost Mall, the largest shopping mall on the north side of the city. Adjacent to the mall is the aptly named Sandhill Roost Park, which has a man-made lake (excavation for land they built up for the mall's foundation) a couple of miles of walking trails, and a floating ampitheater where they have their day-long Independence Day celebration they call The White-Hot Boom.

Starting around noon they have live bands that play all the way until nightfall, and there are vendors including food trucks, local shops, mall vendors, and the like. It's also July so it's bloody hot outside during the daytime.

This summer was my tenth year attending the fireworks, and everything was going like clockwork. I saw the latest Jurassic Park movie, which is always mindless fun, and I stepped out of the theater into the rapidly-cooling New Mexico night dressed in some soccer shorts and my American Outlaws t-shirt I bought when I attended some Gold Cup games a couple of years ago.

The park was filling up fast and people were still gathering. I didn't worry because I know several places where you don't have to be close and you still get a really good view of the fireworks over the lake.

As I was walking, a pair of tight fluorescent white shorts caught my eye. Poking out below them were a gorgeous pair of legs leading to feet in flip-flops, and above them was a sexy bare midriff, atop which hung a lovely pink cutoff t-shirt and silky blonde hair down to the small of the back. The sexy little ass in those shorts swayed with a rhythm that pulled my eyes like a tide: casual, confident, and completely unaware of how hypnotic it was.

A size mismatch issue that plagues women all over the world struck the beauty who had my attention. Her oversized mobile phone was stuck into an undersized back pocket of the shorts, and the motion of her firm little ass caused it to scooch up just enough to become overbalanced and topple into the grass. Amazingly, the phone's owner didn't seem to notice it.

"Miss!" I called, and rushed forward, already stooping to reach her phone before someone else's foot did.

She didn't react right away.

"Miss! Your phone!" I called louder.

Her hand reached back to the pocket, and the woman spun around just as I knelt to pick up her phone from the grass. She was gorgeous. Her tanned skin glowed under the lights, and the way her shirt clung to her petite frame made it hard to look away. Her smile was all sunshine and mischief, and it hit me in the gut like a wave of heat off the pavement. I saw the front of her shirt had the big block letters UNM, indicating she was probably a student at the local university taking summer classes.

"Miss--I think you dropped this," I told her.

"Ohmygod, I was so busy looking for my friend in the crowd I didn't even notice it. Thanks, Mister."

"Brandon--but most people call me Don," I said.

She took her phone and put her small, delicate, warm hand in mine to shake. "I'm Bella; it's nice to meet you."

"Where do you and your friend usually meet to watch the fireworks?"

"Oh, this is my first time here. I just transferred for my graduate degree after finishing my degree in Michigan in December. It's just too cold there. I love the sunshine and the heat."

"Well you're in the right place for that," I said with a laugh. "That's about all we get here."

"My girlfriend Katie from the sorority was going to meet me here." She started furiously tapping out a message on her phone. "I should check if she's on the way."

"What are you studying?" I asked, not wanting to let a pause grow in the conversation. This Katie would arrive soon and the two of them would probably have something they wanted to do or Katie would want to introduce Bella to other friends and the moment would pass, but I wanted to hold onto it as long as I could.

"I did premed undergraduate with an Exercise Physiology focus, and now I'm doing Physical Therapy. I have a job on campus working with the women's golf, tennis, soccer, and track and field teams. Most sports medicine and injury recovery is focused on male athletes and their recovery, and there's enough biomechanical differences in bone and muscle structure that the specific needs of women athletes are often overlooked. I want to help change that."

"I see, so when Serena Williams or Alex Morgan pulls a hamstring, there might be reasons you would want to treat them and their recovery differently than if it were, say, Rafael Nadal or Lionel Messi. Is that right?"

Bella smiled at me. "Exactly! Are you a doctor?"

I grinned. "No, but I play doctor on occasion when a lady asks me to."

Bella giggled. Her phone gave an incoming message chime and she looked frustrated. "Well shit! Katie's boyfriend came over while she was getting ready for the fireworks and he started talking dirty to her. She's a sucker for that so she's going back to his place to spend the night."

"I know I'm not Katie," I said. "But I come here every year, and I know some spots to get good vantage points. Nice and open, plenty of people around," I added. I would love to be alone with her, but being old enough to be her father, I doubted she would feel the same way. "About fifty yards to the right it opens up beyond that clump of trees for a great view over the lake to the west. Or if we go a hundred yards to the left we can see across the lake to the north for another great view. Whaddya say?"

Bella gave me her smile again. "Let's go right. It's nearer, and looking west feels like looking toward home."

"Oh yeah, where's home?" I asked as we started walking.

"I'm from Yuma, Arizona. What about you? I don't hear strong New Mexico in your voice."

"That's right, I'm an East Coast baby. Born in Florida and raised at several bases and installations where my folks worked between Tampa and Tidewater. Everywhere we went were mud flats and mosquitoes and nothing but pan flat. So when I finished college I came West. I worked down south for part of my career and then moved up to Santa Fe about a decade ago."

"When you're not playing doctor and watching fireworks, what do you do?"

"My work is medicine adjacent. I'm in IT for the Hospital System; I take care of the servers that hold all the medical records."

"Yeah, my graduate advisor and the head of PT/OT at the university are on staff with the Hospital System."

We found a spot in the clearing just as the park workers killed the lamps and streetlights that illuminated the walkways and boardwalks, and the emcee announced the beginning of the White-Hot Boom fireworks extravaganza, which started with the National Anthem playing over the outdoor speaker system. At first there was only the music. Then at the word "light" dozens of fountains of white sparkling pyrotechnics began shooting up in the air from the lake. Those fountains kept spewing sparks that gradually shifted through white, blue, and red all the way until the phrase "rockets' red glare." Concussive thuds announced the launching of a dozen mortars trailing sparkling red tails high into the sky, which exploded in dazzling colors on the word "bursting." From then, every crash of cymbals in the recorded music announced more mortars launching fireworks skyward, and the show was off and running.

Because of the space we found to stand, I was right behind Bella. We were both looking skyward, but in my periphery, I noticed some movement, and then I felt her lean against me as she seemed about to topple over. I put my hands on the points of her shoulders to steady her.

"Ohmygod, I'm sorry!" she apologized. "I have a mild case of vertigo ever since a middle ear infection I had as a kid. If I look up for a prolonged period of time I start to get dizzy."

"No worries," I said. "Will it help if I keep my hands here to steady you?"

"Yeah, it will. Thanks, Don."

I was more than happy to help. Bella's skin was creamy, silky, and smooth. She leaned back against me, soft and warm, and my mind blurred at the edges. I could feel a yearning building in my loins. I knew I wouldn't forget the way she felt, no matter how long I lay awake that night.

The fireworks lasted for nearly thirty minutes. About five minutes into the show, Bella scooted back and leaned more of her slender young body against me. The yearning grew to a stirring in my loins, and I could feel my pulse quicken. A couple of minutes later, Bella turned to look up at me.

"Don, could you put your hands across my belly? If your arms are down along my sides I'll feel more steady."

"Of course," I said. I repositioned my arms and placed my hands on her midsection. Now each of her arms was being cradled in mine from her shoulders to her elbows. She nuzzled her back against my chest, relaxing more of her weight against me, and I gave her a gentle, reassuring squeeze. In response, she placed her hands over mine and let the tips of her fingers slide between mine.

I was trying to concentrate on the fireworks and be a steadying presence for Bella. But my fifty-two-year-old libido was suddenly remembering what it felt like to be twenty-one again, and I was trying to avoid embarrassing myself and making Bella think I was a pervert for pressing my erection into the small of her back.

The music that they always played for these fireworks was a predictable mix of patriotic standards from the Great American Songbook, classical pieces that always feature in fireworks shows around the world, and more contemporary pop and country songs that wax patriotic about love of flag and country. A lot of people around us began to hum or sing along quietly with the songs, and I could feel both the breath and resonance that said Bella was singing, too. So I softly added my voice to the others in the crowd, and that was enough focus to ensure that my new friend didn't run away screaming for the cops.

When the fireworks ended and the crowd started to disperse, I let Bella pull away from me, but she didn't disengage entirely. She said that her vertigo always lasted a few minutes after she stopped looking up, and I pointed to a nearby park bench where we could sit if she wanted to until her head felt better.

She held my hand to steady herself as we walked over, and once we sat down she kept holding my hand and leaned against me. The night was getting cooler. Summer nights in New Mexico are never really cold, but it can drop to the low sixties after a one-hundred twenty degree day, and that big contrast in temperature can make it feel chilly. Most women I have known seem more sensitive to cooler air than I am, and when I feel comfortable a lot of them feel cold.

"Did you like our fireworks?" I asked her.

"They were lovely! They remind me a little of the ones back at home. Somehow it was different in Michigan because they did them out over Lake Michigan itself. Maybe it's the way the booms echo off all of the little canyons and mesas and everything, but they just sound more like home here if that makes any sense."

I nodded. "Growing up on the East Coast, everything is flat. So even if you have fireworks over a lake, you don't get all the same echoes and reverberations like you do here in the high desert, as you say, with all the canyons and mesas to reflect the sound."

We talked a little bit more about where we grew up and what we liked about home. She asked me about some of my favorite things about New Mexico and I mentioned the artist community at Taos.

"I'd love to visit there, I hear it's so cool," she said, lightly touching my forearm with her soft, warm fingers.

"I go at least once or twice a month and spend most of a Saturday or Sunday there. I'd be happy to take you and maybe some of your friends sometime." I craved this young woman's body, but I was afraid of changing from being a comforting friend at a convenient time to being some kind of monster in her eyes.

"Yeah, I'd like that. You could show me all your favorite shops and studios. Maybe we could do a painting or pottery workshop--that's always sounded like fun to me."

There was my opening. I pulled my phone out and opened a blank contact form. "Give me your number, and I'll let you know a few days before I go the next time to see if you want to come."

She took my phone and immediately put in her number and her university email address. Then she sent herself a text message that said "Fireworks Don" and a smile emoji from my phone.

After she handed my phone back, she logged my text message as a new contact in her phone and leaned against me. I placed my arm across her shoulder and I felt tiny goose pimples on the outside of her tricep. "Is it too chilly for you out here?" I asked.

Bella nuzzled a little closer. "It's fine--I like the fresh air, and I also like just sitting still for a little bit. Ever since middle school, everything has always been rush-rush-rush. There's all the sports and activities that colleges expect you to do to qualify for admissions; there's recitals and tournaments and practice and training, and all of it goes a million miles an hour.

"I thought maybe it would slow down in college, but it seemed like everything only sped up when I got to Grand Rapids. There were responsibilities with clubs and functions with the sorority and volunteering events the professors sponsored--and you know those are never really volunteer events; they make you pay for it if you don't participate. And then being a trainer with women's sports means supporting multiple teams, so you're at practices and events three or four times as often as the guys supporting the men's teams in the same sports.

"It always hurt my relationships--if I dated a boy, he said I didn't love him because I wouldn't spend enough time with him; if I dated a girl, she got jealous because I was always massaging other girls or helping them bathe or shower after injuries. It all just gets really stressful."

"Wow, I can imagine. It's hard to find someone who can appreciate all the demands on your time if they haven't walked in your shoes. When I worked for Uncle Sam, women always broke up with me because they said I was keeping secrets from them. Part of my job was keeping secrets, so duh! But they thought keeping secrets from them about work meant I would keep secrets from them about everything else."

Bella giggled. "They never watched any James Bond or Jason Bourne movies?"

"I guess not. My time at White Sands sounds a lot like your time in Michigan. What about since you've moved out here? Have you had any better luck with relationships in New Mexico?"

"Not really. I mean guys ask me out all the time, but it's obvious they only want to go out if we're going to fuck. And girls like Katie from the sorority like to fool around, but most of them aren't looking for a commitment. I've met a couple of people who I thought might be different. But the guy told me on our second date he was going to help me change my schedule so I would be available when he needed me, and the girl said we couldn't keep dating if I didn't find someone else to massage or shower my athletes recovering from injury. I'd just really like to meet someone who won't judge me or try to change me."

"I'm right there with you, girlfriend."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to vent, but it's so easy talking to you. I feel like I could tell you anything." Bella smiled at me. Her blue eyes sparkled, and her smile showed gorgeous straight white teeth behind glossy pink frosted lips that I desperately yearned to kiss.

But that wasn't going to happen. As the kids say, I had been 'friend zoned,' already--or in Bella's eyes, it was probably better to say I had been 'uncle zoned.' She likely saw me as 'safe,' and not someone that was exciting or challenging. Still, if I played this opportunity right she might introduce me to a hot professor, an aunt, or a divorced mom of a player before she finished her degree.

By this time we had been sitting for about twenty minutes and the crowd was thinning out. Bella started to stir.

"Ready to go?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"I can walk you to your car if you like," I said.

"Sure."

We stood, and our arms brushed past each other. She slipped her hand into mine. This time she wasn't holding onto me for balance. She was just casually and comfortably holding my hand like it was something we had always done.

As we approached her car, I could tell something wasn't right. The vehicle was leaning drunkenly on a flat left rear tire. "Oh, shit!" she cried.

My expertise is in computer code and not mechanical things. And if my libido was trying to remember twenty-one, my knees were looking at the asphalt of the parking lot and reminding me I was fifty-two. Fortunately, I maintain a triple-A membership for just such emergencies. I reached for my wallet for my card... and then I remembered that I left it at home--I never carry my wallet unless I need my driver's license for something. Well, if you're going to be a man, sometimes that means doing unpleasant things.

"Do you have a spare tire in the trunk?" I asked her.

"I think so--and I think it's one of those stupid donut things."

"OK. I can try to change the tire for you if you want."

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all." That wasn't entirely true. My knees would complain at me tomorrow, and I hoped I wouldn't embarrass myself trying to get the lug nuts off. But even though it wouldn't get me laid tonight, going this extra mile would encourage Bella to tell her player's horny mother about the amazing guy "about your age" she met for fireworks.

We opened the trunk and I pulled aside the liner to reveal the spare. But even as I went to pull the spare tire out, I noticed another problem. It was flat, too.

I squeezed the tire to show Bella. "Oops. Well, not all is lost. I have Triple-A and I can call a tow truck for you, but I have to walk back to my townhouse and get it because I don't carry my wallet walking over here. Do you want me to do that, or do you want to call someone to pick you up and deal with this tomorrow?"

"You walk over here?" Bella asked. "That must explain why you're in good shape. No dad bod setting in."

"That's part of it," I said.

"How far is the walk?"

"It's about ten minutes that way," I pointed east.

"Let's go. I didn't have a chance to get my workout today--partly because I thought Katie and I would be wandering all over the place all night. And it will give me a chance to hang with you a little longer." She smiled and took my hand again.