Six grins greet my denial.
Addie makes a muffled noise that could be her riding out an orgasm while she’s frozen on top of me, or it could be all of her mortification leaving her body.
Or maybe it’s both.
“Power on?” I ask.
The firefighter who recognized me nods. “Yep.”
“Can you hit the button for the seventh floor and go away?”
Chortles of laughter greet my request.
None of them are coming from Addie, but she definitely makes another noise.
“Ma’am, you okay?” one of the other firefighters says.
“Hit seven, please,” she says into my neck.
“Are you being held against your will?” a third firefighter asks.
“Only by extreme humiliation.”
“If you need us to hold this guy until the cops get here?—”
“I’m on top of him, you dolt,” she replies.
“He looks strong.”
“That’s why this was enjoyable. Please hit seven.”
“It’s wrong to tell him he has to give us his autograph before we let him go, isn’t it?” the guy who recognized me says.
“Usually, but these are unusual circumstances,” his buddy replies.
He tilts his head sideways, frowning. “Aren’t we supposed to be getting a baseball coach out of here so the Fireballs can win today?”
Addie makes another strangled noise.
“Thanks for your service, guys,” I say. “Seven, please.”
“Seven, please,” Addie echoes.
“If that’s the female coach, she could lay him out flat if she wanted to,” a fourth firefighter says. “I saw an interview with her a couple years ago. She’sfit.”
“Don’t you have an oath of privacy or something?” I say.
“Usually, but this is funny shit,” one of the guys in front says.
Another one pokes him. “Don’t make him mad or he won’t get us tickets.”
The lights flicker.
All of us look up at the elevator’s ceiling.
Except Addie. She groans again, and then starts shaking.
And she follows it with a little piggy snort.
