265. Smoke and Fire:
Jeb wasn’t sure when his obsession had first begun; it had always just seemed to be there. In fact, he’d never actually thought about it until a policeman had asked him the question.
“Son, why do you light fires?”
That had been almost four years ago now. Nothing had changed. The answer was still the same.
“Because it gets me off.”
The policeman hadn’t quite known how to respond to that.
It was true. Many pyromaniacs talked about how fire was a symbol of sexual energy and that the act of lighting one was kind of like the lead-up to all of that; ‘foreplay,’ as it were.
For Jeb though it was smoke AND fire that did it for him. Smoke was sort of the kindling of the romance, the dance of love, circling around one another, unsure of who would make the first move. It was full of mystery and like smoke, sometimes hazy and made you feel as though you weren’t really sure what you were doing.
Fire on the other hand was the climax of the whole thing. From that one spark came an eruption that could only be likened to an orgasm. It burned on and on until eventually the fuel was spent and the flames died down to tiny embers. The thing about fire though was that it was also ready; it was always smouldering.
Just like sexual energy, he thought to himself. I’m always ready.
The corner of Jeb’s mouth lifted up in a slight grin and he took a deep breath as he struck the match.
“Burn baby, burn,” he murmured and flicked it onto the pile of wood in front of him.
He let out a huge sigh as the wood caught fire.
Yep, did it for him every time.