Burning Love

Submitted by Ginny:

I worked at a restaurant for close to two years when one of my coworkers, Ben, came onto me pretty hard.  He was younger than I was, but was a funny guy and damn attractive to boot, so we started meeting up outside of work.

One time, we were there past closing, and our manager had to run out early.  We lasted maybe about three minutes before our hands and mouths were all over each other.  We did it in the dining room, we did it at the service station, and we eventually ended up in the kitchen, which was, admittedly, not the smartest place to get it on.

He lifted me onto the counter, then slid me down.

On the stove.

The still-hot stove.

I saw a white flash, and the next thing I knew, I was on top of him, on the floor, screaming my guts out.

He said, "Oh shit, oh shit," over and over again, while I struggled to yell out for some ice or cold water or anything that would tamp down the skin-ripping heat that coursed through my rear and upper thighs.

He grabbed some ice and applied it, perhaps a bit too roughly, but I was grateful for how quickly he was useful in a crisis.

A trip to the hospital and a diagnosis of second-degree burns later, our wild night was over.

Ben and I stopped seeing each other (for unrelated reasons) but we're still friends.  Nowadays, we can laugh about it, but every time I get a pain in my ass, I think of him.