Second Shift

I'd been working the rooftop shift at the Meridian for about a year by that summer, and I knew every corner of it. I was twenty-three, one year into the city, one year into the job, and mostly I liked the quiet up there. Twelve stories below, downtown hummed along without me. Above me there was just sky and the red blink of an antenna light and the little equipment shed with its rusted door.

At 11:40 that Friday night I keyed my radio like I always did.

"Post four, check. Roof clear, all quiet."

Angie's voice came back flat and tired, the way it always did after five years on the night desk. "Copy, Post four. Next check at 12:20 AM."

"Copy that," I said, and clipped the radio back on my belt.

Then I turned around and there he was, Tony, stretched out on one of the plastic deck chairs some resident had dragged up next to the shed. He was twenty-six, three weeks into knowing me off a dating app, and he'd picked tonight to finally see me in person at my actual workplace. He had a paper bag from the deli on the floor beside the chair and he looked pleased with himself.

"Forty minutes," I told him, walking over. "Then I do a full walk of the east stairwell and the pool deck. So we've got about forty minutes before Angie starts wondering why I'm breathing hard."

Tony looked me up and down and grinned. "See, I didn't expect a uniform. The photos were good but the photos didn't have a utility belt."

"The photos didn't have a utility belt because the utility belt is a work thing," I said. "It holds a flashlight and a granola bar. Very intimidating."

"Extremely," he said. "I'm scared already."

I smirked at him and reached up and undid the top two buttons of my polo, enough to show the black tank top underneath, because sure, I'd worn the tank on purpose. I'd changed into it in the locker room at 11:00 like a person planning something. I wanted him to notice. He noticed.

"Oh, so that's how it is," he said.

"That's how it is," I said. "You got a problem with it?"

"Not even a little."

I took his hand and pulled him up out of the chair and backed us both around the side of the shed, out of the sightline of the stairwell door. The wall there was warm from the day's heat and the air was that thick summer kind, wet and slow. He leaned in and kissed me and I kissed him back, and for a guy who'd been all jokes for three weeks of texting he was a good kisser, slow and not greedy about it.

His hand found my hip. Mine found the front of his shirt. We stood there against the shed getting into it, and I was just starting to really enjoy myself when my radio crackled.

"Post four, status."

I broke off the kiss with a groan and keyed it. "Post four. Roof's clear, Angie. I'm doing a perimeter check of the shed area."

There was a pause. "Copy, Post four. Perimeter check logged. Midnight twenty, don't forget."

"Copy," I said, and let go of the button, and Tony was trying so hard not to laugh that his shoulders were shaking.

"Perimeter check," he said.

"Shut up," I said, and grabbed his shirtfront and pulled him toward the fire escape.

The fire escape spiraled down the east side of the building, iron steps with that ribbed nonslip surface, and at night nobody used it. I took him down to the second landing, which had a high wall on the stairwell side and a decent patch of shadow. Below us the city did its shimmering thing. Above us was nothing but more building.

Tony turned me around with a hand on my waist, gentle about it, and traced his fingers down my spine, slow, over the fabric of the polo and then lower, over the seat of my uniform pants. I pushed back into his hand a little, because why pretend.

"I want to take my time with you tonight," he said, quiet, close to my ear. "I know you've got forty minutes. I still want to take my time. And I brought stuff. Lube. In my jacket."

That got my attention. We'd talked about it on the app, honestly and early, the way I like to do things. I'd told him it was something I liked when it was done right, slow and careful, and he'd said he was good at patient. Talk was talk until now, though, standing here with his hand on me.

"You really planned this whole date around my patrol schedule," I said.

"I really did," he said. "Tell me if that's weird."

"It's the least weird thing anyone's done for me in a year," I said. "It's hot, actually. Don't tell anyone I said that."

"Your secret's safe," he said, and his hand kept moving, patient, just tracing.

My radio went off again.

"Post four."

I groaned and put my forehead against his shoulder for a second. I was in the middle of unbuckling his belt, I had the tongue of it half through the buckle, and Angie has the worst timing of any human being alive. I keyed the radio with my free hand.

"Post four. Everything's clear, Angie. Anything wrong?"

"No, all's well. Two-forty in the lobby wants to know if the pool's still locked. Confirm it's locked."

"It's locked, Angie. I locked it at nine."

"Copy. Midnight twenty."

"Copy," I said, and clicked off, and Tony whispered, "Two-forty?"

"Insomniac resident. Wants to swim laps at two in the morning. We have a whole system about it," I said. "Now where were we!"

"I believe you had my belt," he said.

"I did have your belt." I finished undoing it, the buckle and then the button, and slid my hand into his jeans, into his boxer briefs, and wrapped my fingers around him. He was already hard, warm and thick in my hand, and he made a low sound when I closed around him that made me grin.

"There it is," I said.

"There it is," he agreed, a little rough.

I worked him slow, the way I'd been thinking about for three weeks of late-night texting, and he stayed focused on me the whole time, one hand splayed on my lower back, the other coming around to cup me through my uniform pants, pressing the fabric in against me so I could feel the pressure right where I wanted it. I rolled my hips into his hand without meaning to be obvious about it and he laughed softly.

"You said take your time," I reminded him.

"I did say that."

"Then quit making me rush."

"I'm not doing anything," he said, very innocent, and pressed again, and I bit my lip.

We stood there on the landing like that for a while, his hand and mine, the city humming twelve stories down, and I kept one ear cocked for the radio because that was the deal. Forty minutes. I'd done a lot of things on this job and gotten away with all of them, but Angie logged everything and I wasn't getting fired over a good night. Settled, clean, no complications. That's how I like my fun.

"Okay," I said finally, and gave him one last slow stroke that made him exhale hard. "Here's the layout. I finish my midnight twenty check at the far stairwell, that gives me a gap till about twelve forty. My bag's in the shed. There's a blanket in it because I take naps on the roof, don't judge me, and there's a gym towel."

"You keep a blanket up here?"

"I told you. Don't judge me."

"No judgment," he said. "I brought lube and a condom in my jacket pocket, so between us we're basically prepared for anything."

"Boy Scout," I said. "Meet me back here at twelve twenty-five. Use the stairwell door on nine, it