Playboy: Says here you're a firefighter medic. What's that?
Kelly: I fight fires, but I specialize in treating injured people on the scene.
Playboy: In the firehouse it's you and a bunch of manly men. Any knocking of the rubber boots?
Kelly: No. We treat each other as a family, so I think of the guys as my brothers and they treat me like a sister -- meaning they are very concerned with my social life. As in any family, we have fights, but they're normally over what to eat: Should we order takeout or fire up the grill?
Playboy: How often do you tend the flames?
Kelly: Never. Grilling is a guy's job.
Playboy: Do guys you rescue fall in love with you?
Kelly: All the time. Because our last names are on our clothes, I get love letters addressed to Johnston at the firehouse. One time this guy OD'd and was violent. I had to wrestle him to the ground. When he came around he asked me out. I was like, "Dude, you just kicked my ass, and now you want a date?"
Playboy: What's a bigger rush for you: running into a burning building or having sex?
Kelly: Both really get your adrenaline pumping. Fires tend to last longer, but you can't beat sex for immediate satisfaction.

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