No More Wasted Time: A Carlsbad Village Lesbian Romance

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “He’s a good man.”

Chief Comstock cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh, come off it, Roberts,” he said with a grin. “O’Reilly is a misogynistic and racist son of a bitch who thinks the women in firehouses ought to be bringing the men coffee. The only reason he hasn’t been drummed out of the department yet is because he’s also a smart SOB who knows when to keep his opinions to himself.”

Becca flushed a little at being caught in her lie; however, she refused to be baited.

“Whatever you say, sir,” she said, meeting Comstock’s eyes.

Chief Comstock stared at her for a couple of moments and then smiled.

“You’re a smart person, Becca,” he told her. “Which is why, when that prick O’Reilly goes, I want to make you the new deputy chief.”

Becca wasn’t sure she heard right. It suddenly became very, very difficult for her to maintain a calm and professional demeanor in front of her boss.

Deputy chief. Number two in the department. And at her age.

Jesus Christ!

She opened her mouth to ask about that, but the chief cut her off.

“Before you ask,” he said, “I know you’re young. But that’s the point. The fire department of the twenty-first century is a different organization than it was forty years ago when I was a probie. I want my deputy to be someone young enough to understand just how different it is.”

Another thought occurred to Becca. After formulating the question carefully in her mind, she opened her mouth to ask it. But again, Chief Comstock cut her off.

“And before you ask,” he said, “no, this has nothing to do with all this Lesbian Wonder Woman stuff. Admittedly, the fact that you’re both gay and a woman makes the department look good; but I’d be offering you this job even if you were straight and married to the ugliest guy in town.”

Becca didn’t know what else to say. So, she said, “I…I don’t know what to say, sir.”

“Say, you’ll consider it,” Chief Comstock said. “I mean that. It’s a big decision and I want you to think it over. You can give me your answer at the awards ceremony.”

“Sir?”

The chief gave her a lopsided grin.

“You don’t think the department is going to let the events of Friday night pass by without handing out awards, do you?”

Becca blushed. Of course they weren’t. Not only were such ceremonies traditional, but they also boosted morale among the ranks and went a long way towards attracting new recruits.

A deputy chief would know that.

She blinked to clear her head. The offer to become deputy chief was one she was going to have to think about seriously…

***

When her conversation with Chief Comstock was done, Becca found her way back outside to the parking lot of City Hall. She spotted Krissy, sunglasses on, leaning against Becca’s black jeep, with her ankles crossed, her auburn hair struck by the sun in such a way that it glowed like flame. She looked like the very personification of cool diffidence. Unapproachable. Unknowable.

God, why did she have to wear a pencil skirt today?

Pencil skirts were one of Becca’s weaknesses. Those and oversized button-down sleepshirts.

Thank heavens women never wore the two of those items together because if Becca ever did see a cute woman in a pencil skirt and an oversized button-down sleepshirt, she’d probably drop to her knees and say, “Please, let me go down on you!”

Krissy looked amazing in her pencil skirt today. It hugged her thighs perfectly before flaring out sensuously over her hips. Best of all—the reason why Becca loved pencil skirts—Krissy’s skirt was that type which really gave the impression of constricting Krissy’s legs, as if the piece of clothing was a type of bondage, holding her legs in captivity until the right woman came along to free them.

Jesus God…Krissy in bondage…Be still my heart…

Becca knew she had to get over this stupid crush she had developed on her best friend. It was silly and it was pointless. Becca didn’t do pointless.