No More Wasted Time: A Carlsbad Village Lesbian Romance

She left the bedroom to go start her meeting.

***

Just past nine p.m. that night, they were in Becca’s bedroom, sitting up together in the bed, both in their pjs, each sated and a little worn out from another round of sex. Once again, they had made use of Becca’s special toy, both women crying out several times and seeing stars. Krissy’s midsection was a little sore from the intensity of her orgasms and the way her abdominal muscles would tighten each time just before the eruptions started.

Each of the women were now on their iPads. Becca was looking at baking websites while Krissy was scrolling through the headlines on Google News. In the Local News section, she came across an article about last night’s fire. Her heart dropped looking at the news photos of the burning warehouse. It seemed impossible that anyone could have survived that—firefighter or not. According the article, Becca had apparently done something heroic yet again, risking her life to save the lives of several firemen, including the deputy fire chief.

“Babe?” Krissy said, leaving the article unfinished and putting down her iPad.

“Mm?” Becca looked at her.

“You know you could talk to me, right? I mean, about your job.”

“I talk to you about my job all the time,” Becca said.

This was true. Becca often regaled Krissy with tales about antics at the firehouse—firefighters are huge pranksters, apparently—or stories about interesting calls her company responded to. But Krissy had something else in mind now.

“I know,” she began, “but I’ve heard that sometimes, firefighters have a hard time talking about the bad stuff they see on the job with others. Like, they tend to keep it bottled up inside. I’m not saying that’s what you do,” she hur

riedly added. “I’m just saying…you can talk to me, if, you know, you need to.”

Becca smiled.

“And where did you hear all this?” she asked.

“I’ve been doing some research,” Krissy admitted, suddenly blushing.

“Research?”

“Right. On how to be a firefighter’s…partner.”

Ever since they had become a couple, Krissy had found a part of herself battling a dilemma. She had always hated that Becca had such a dangerous job—even when they were just friends. She doubly hated that Becca had such a dangerous job now that they were far more than just friends. However, she also knew that Becca would never stop wanting to be a firefighter; therefore, the only thing Krissy could do was to discover how best to cope with it and how best to be a supportive partner. That’s when she learned that a lot of firefighters didn’t feel like they could talk about the horrible parts of their job with their significant others, which then led to all sorts of problems: depression, anxiety, anger issues and a bunch of other stuff.

Krissy never wanted Becca to feel as if she couldn’t unburden herself to her.

“You were researching that?” Becca asked, her smile growing wider. “You’re amazing.”

Krissy shrugged.

“I’m just preparing,” she said.

“For what?” Becca asked.

Marriage.

Krissy almost gasped when that word popped into her head.

To cover herself, she turned her iPad back on and showed Becca the article about last night’s fire.

“For reading articles like this,” she said. “This looks horrible, Becs. If you ever need to talk, then do so. I’ll stay up all night listening if I have to.”

Becca leaned over and gave Krissy a gentle kiss.

“I promise I will. Thank you.”

Deciding she’d had enough of reading about the inferno, Krissy switched to Twitter.

“Well, well, well,” she said after a moment. “Another Redheaded Vanessa sighting.”