Saoirse McColl is a biologist, who has worked for many years as a researcher in labs. She’s also from a family of 10 kids, from immigrant Irish parents. Don’t bother asking if they’re Catholic–she’ll joke about it before you get the chance. Along with her red hair, she inherited the Irish temper, so she’s been a fighter her whole life. When her oldest brother came home on-leave from being a Marine, he taught his sisters how to defend themselves. When her other older brother came home on-leave from being a Navy Seal, he also taught his sisters some moves. But Saoirse, the oldest girl, was their sparring partner back before they started school. By the time she got to grade school, she was getting into trouble for fighting in school. Her best friend, Freddie, remembers her defending him from other boys who called him faggot. He knew what it meant, but Saoirse didn’t–nor did she care. All she cared about is they were insulting her friend, and they needed to know that he had a crew, even if that crew was only a red-headed girl with a nasty temper and a mean right hook.
So when Saoirse gets fired from yet another lab for not being willing to produce the results the client wants, which means she’d have to lie, and fudge her science, she needs a place to stay quickly. Freddie and his friend with benefits, Jorge, let her crash in the spare bedroom in their place. When Saoirse can’t find any research jobs, Freddie suggests that she try something completely different: apply to a high school up in Maine. She does, and gets an interview, but has no money to fly out there. Freddie pays for the round trip ticket between Boston and Augusta, for her birthday. When she gets back, she’s excited to tell him that she got the job.
****”Well, the interview was really strange. There were four of us, and I was last. The guy who interviewed me didn’t seem to know what kind of questions to ask, but he did let me ask some questions–and the place is really interesting.”
Freddie leaned forward. “Just the place? Or the man, too? Come on, you can tell your old friend. Is he hot?”
Saoirse blushed despite herself as she tried to look stern. “Come on, now. He’s my new boss. The last thing I need is to get involved with my employer. Then when things don’t work out, it will be incredibly awkward to work there, and I’ll end up having to leave. Been there, done that, threw away the tee shirt.”
Freddie was still leaning forward. He poured more wine into her glass and looked expectantly at her.
“Okay, okay. He’s hot! His name is Diego Vargas, and he’s dark-skinned and has longish black hair. It was held back in a pony tail, but it looks silky. He’s not that much taller than me, but then I’m tall for a woman.”
“Don’t I know it! With big feet, too. Remember the first time I took you into a trannie clothing store, and you were so excited to be able to get size eleven shoes that were fashionable?”
“Shoes in size eleven are rarely available, and if they are, they’re usually old lady-ish, sensible walking shoes. You know how much I hate having big feet.”
“Yes, but with you being close to six feet tall, you’d look really stupid with teeny, tiny baby feet. You’d probably fall over, unable to keep yourself in balance.”
“I’m only five-foot-ten. But yeah, he’s probably six-one or six-two. And muscular? Dude, that guy must work out everyday, to look so good in his clothes.”
“Let me know if you ever get to see him without his clothes! Then we’ll have something to talk about.”
“Freddie, you’re terrible! What would Jorge say if he could hear you?”
“He’d ask you to come right on back here and tell us how sexy this man looks without his clothes on.”
Saoirse blushed again.
“See, see? You’re already imagining it.”
She frowned at him, “Do you want to hear the story or not?”
**************************Copyright 2020, Fiona McGier**********************