Decorated with a fire-scarred five storey concrete building, surrounded with pitted pavement  dotted with all manner of wrecked vehicles--or the husks of those vehicles. Two buses, one articulated, hung forelorn and broken on a hillside, windows long since smashed, tree branches surrounding draped with fire line tape.  No one would ever accuse the City Public Safety Training Facility of being a beautiful thing.

Still, Madeleine loved being here--loved it enough to be pulling her Toyota SUV into the parking lot adjacent at zero dark thirty, loved it enough to bow her head to the hard winter Seattle rain and unload her gear in the sopping unfailing cold, hauling all 140 pounds towards the low-slung building that served as a meeting and conference centre at the site.  

Reaching the door, signed helpfully with “NO BUNKER GEAR INSIDE FACILITY”, she scanned her badge and pushed on the crash bar with her right hip. The door gave way rather quickly, though, and instead of stepping into an empty hallway, she fell quite without any grace into the body of another human being.  

“Mads!” The joyous greeting, rather like that of an overly excited Golden Retriever, came from City firefighter/paramedic and Maddie's current co-instructor, Jeff.  

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Jeff.  I didn’t see your truck. You okay?”  She put the gear bags on the floor and hugged him as always, kissing his left cheek.   He didn’t usually respond to her hugs with the same enthusiasm as which they were given, but this time he grabbed all of her definitely not petite self about the waist and lifted her from the floor, spinning in a circle.  

“The actual fuck, Jeff?  Are we dancing?”  

He put her down.  Mads, smiling slightly, unzipped her coat, smoothed down her dark navy shirtdress, the one embroidered with the City Fire Department logo on the left breast, and looked evenly at Jeff, waiting for an answer.  

“No, I’m just...I’m just happy you’re here.  It’s been a while.”  

“It’s been four months.  Life interferes. Someone has to do the paperwork to fund this shit, and you’re looking at that someone.  C’mon, let’s get set up.”  

She turned from him now, striding towards the main conference room, missing the slight failing of his broad grin.  

He picked up her bags and followed her into the conference room, his eyes, unbeknownst to Mads, taking in all of her height, her dark hair pinned into a practical chignon, the sway of her wide hips and the flare of her dress as she walked, the way she was sliding her coat off of her shoulders.  The faint scent of her rose perfume wafted in her wake, and that, along with the visual, made Jeff want to tell her a thousand things, none of which had to do with his job.

Better that she didn’t know.  Madeleine Johnson did not come to be where she was in the Fire Department’s Office of Emergency Management by way of simple seduction.  

She reached the two tables set up at the front of the room, and Jeff put down her bags, watching as she went to the myriad closets, hauling out equipment.  Watching, not helping, because God help him, he loved how her dress--meant to be midlength but short on Mads--obediently lifted to display the curve of her thighs meeting her ass every time she bent over.  

“You going to stand there holding down the carpeting, or are you going to come be useful?”

It wasn’t a question.  Jeff walked over to Mads and took the first of several cases she had flung out behind her.  Hauled them to one of the tables, turned around, and suddenly found himself unable to breathe.  Not normally, at least. Fuck.

Her navy cotton pointelle sweater had caught on the hem of her dress, and in her concentration on sorting through the cases, she hadn’t noticed that both her dress and slip had been pulled up to her waist.  The sight of her lacy stocking tops and the navy mesh and white embroidery of her tanga cut panties...fuck. Her ass. Fuck.

Breathe, Jeff.  In, out, in. Three long strides and he was right behind her, his Mads.  

Somewhere in Jeff’s brain, he thought, his Mads?  The one who could do a fireman’s haul of a 75 kilo dummy out of that burned up concrete building outside? That Maddie?

Yes, his Mads.  

He stepped behind her and ignoring his screaming mind, he pressed himself into her, bending his body over hers.  Two results could come of this, his brain screamed. She could flatten you, or she could respond in kind. Being flattened seemed more likely at present but he was beyond caring.

Maddie held perfectly still.  

“Jeff.”

“Mads.”

“This is not what I meant when I asked you to come be useful.”  There was a definitely smile in her voice, a throaty hint of arousal.  

She did not move, feeling his body conforming perfectly to her own.  For his part, Jeff’s brain stopped screaming long enough to notice that his body had not (yet) been flattened, and so allowed his large hands to find her heavy breasts, cupping them through the dress and the bra beneath.

“Quick.”

One word.  Not a question.  A command. And oh fuck was he willing to follow her commands.  She was unbuttoning her dress and how did her bra come unhooked like that? Her dark rose pink nipples, eager buttons of need, fell with her heavy breasts between the roughened fingers of his left hand as his right tugged down her panties.

He glanced down, to see the glowing translucent white of her ass and bare swollen pussy.  Oh fuck. Mads Johnson.  

Maddie turned her head over her shoulder to look at him, her green eyes sparkling in a way Jeff had never been blessed enough to see.  

She pushed her ass back against his cock, freed somehow--he couldn’t remember how--of its restraint, and said, “Students arriving at 0730, and we have work to do, Jeff.”  

His Mads. Three years working together, and still, he marvelled at how she could keep track of seven thousand tasks at once.  

“That was not a question”. 

Her soft, wanting voice pierced his heart even as his hands spread her naked pussy lips.  So dark pink. Of course, it was dark pink, said that empirical part of his brain still extant, she’s aroused and oh...fuck his fingers sunk into her, stroking her clit, her tight needful cunt gripping his two probing digits with desperation.

“Say it, Lieutenant.  Say it. Say that you want me to fuck you. Now, here, now.” 

The fuck did that come from, screamed his brain.  She’s going to drop…

“Fuck me, Lieutenant,  fuck me fast and hard and leave me full for this drill.”

Nope.  Now his brain was too stunned to function as a brain at all.  

His cock wasted no time in obeying, though, as he sunk thick fingers into her waist and with his right hand, he guided his dripping ready surprised cock into her tight unforgivingly slick pussy, her hips pushing back even harder, forcing him balls deep.  

“Time, Lieutenant.”  Oh fuck.

He obeyed once again, grabbing her hips now and pushing hard into her, feeling the soft welcoming soft of her cervix with every thrust.  Time, Lieutenant.  

Jeff’s face was now buried in the nape of her neck, her long dark hair falling over him, her chignon five minutes since fallen loose.  

“Maddie...Mads...Made-”

And then he lost it.  Thoroughly, absolutely, without question lost it, his three years of unacknowledged need flooding her cunt, dripping down her thighs, falling in dark spots on the carpeting.  

She sighed now, as he slid himself out of her most secret place.  Turned towards him, her co-instructor, her Jeff, the one hastily doing up his trousers, while she remained with her breasts exposed.  

“Well, that wasn’t fucking holding down the carpet, now, was it?  Good on you. Now, get on, set up for the drill. Students arriving in (here she glanced at her ever-present watch) zero three five.  I’ll go start setting up outside.”

And again, she smoothed down her now somehow buttoned dress.   She adjusted her sweater, twisted her hair back into its proper chignon, pulled on her coat and strode out of the room, with nary a glance back.  

There was a job to be done, a class of firefighters to be drilled, and a co-instructor with whom to have a long talk...later.