Friday, November 12, 2010

Chapter Three

I held my hand up flat before they could answer. “If you tell me he’s a porn star, and you didn’t say anything last night, I am moving back to LA after I murder you.”

Shiri shook her head, smiling down at her plate. “He’s not a porn star.”

“Wanna bet?” I teased.

That broke the dam and everyone started giggling hysterically. Myself included. I was pissed at the guy about this morning, but last night… last night had been epic. I shifted in my seat, trying to find a spot below my waist that wasn’t sore.

“So what,” I went on, “he’s a model? Is he on TV here or something?”

“Well, he’s on TV. But he’s not a model…,” Laura said.

“He’s a professional hockey player for the Pittsburgh Penguins,” Beth half-whispered, her eyes darting around like someone might be eavesdropping.

“Oh. Okay.” I mean, professional athletes were cool and I guess kind of impressive, if you were into that stuff. I’d been to plenty of baseball games and even a few LA Kings games, but mostly through work. All our vendors had season tickets and it seemed no one ever wanted the hockey ones.

Shiri slapped Beth on the arm. “That is definitely not okay. Sidney Crosby is the face of the sport of hockey. He’s internationally famous and around here, he is like Zac Efron times Justin Timberlake. They won the championship last year and… Jesus Grace, didn’t you watch the Olympics? Remember when Canada scored the overtime goal in the gold medal game to beat the US?”

That I had seen. “Yeah, I was watching.”

“Well that was Sidney Crosby.”

Okay, now I was a little impressed. I even vaguely remembered the announcers making a big deal about that guy all game long, it seemed like he was destined to score that goal, to win that medal for his team and country. It had been almost like they were in love with him. Maybe I even remembered thinking he was good looking?

“And,” Laura chimed in. “He makes $9 million a year, just for hockey. He’s got endorsements and brands and all kinds of money rolling in.”

A lightbulb popped on. “So that wasn’t his parents’ house we stayed at?”

Beth almost flattened herself across the table. “You stayed at the Lemieux’s!?!?!” she whispered so sharply it’s practically a shout.

“The who?”

Beth leaned back in her seat and laughed. “Mario Lemieux, former face of the NHL himself and savior not only of the Penguins but kind of the whole city of Pittsburgh. He owns the team. And he’s one of the best hockey players in history.”

“Oh. Okay. Well I didn’t see him or anything, Sid has a whole side of the place to himself. I thought it was his parents’ house.”

Apparently I was not fully grasping the situation, because Laura took me by the hand. “Grace. Picture Prince William. Picture all the hoopla about him and how much people care, how people buy plates with his face on them and embroider throw pillows with his initials. Right? He’s the Chosen One. He’s the end-all, be-all and they worship him. Well in the worlds of hockey and Pittsburgh, that’s Sidney Crosby.”

“And Canada,” Beth added.

I gave them a short nod, then a little smile. “And sex.”

After she left I stayed in the doorway a few minutes, stupidly thinking maybe she’d come back. I hoped she’d left something behind, but other than her clothes she’d been empty-handed when I dragged her into the house last night. Last night… ten hours ago. It felt like a year.

I should have asked her to stay. I should have been quicker, before she could go, to at least explain myself. What kind of guy had a night like that then held the door open while he kicked the girl to the curb? Shit, she probably hated me.

I opened my phone and found her name. I wasn’t fooling myself – I knew I had to see her again and that I would have to make up for this morning, the way I’d panicked. I needed this to work out so I could have her again. As if it could hear me, my cock pulsed a sharp, painful amen.

I’d like to see you again. Could I take you to dinner tonight?

I’d probably have to drive to Cleveland to find a place I was comfortable taking her, or maybe into northern West Virginia where they didn’t even have TVs. But I’d find a place. My heart skipped as the phone beeped.

Message undeliverable. Number unknown.

I told them everything. There was a lot of screaming and some snotty looks from the waitress, but we ordered more coffee and then dessert and she smiled again. We were like Sex and the City and I tried not to be too graphic.

“How big?” Laura asked. I went on answering another question until she’d repeated herself five times. “How big?”

“Big, Laura. Okay? I didn’t measure.”

“Like big as your arm, or big as your leg?”

I threw a straw at her. “Bigger than anyone else. How’s that?”

She sighed theatrically and put the back of her hand to her forehead like she might faint. They were acting like schoolgirls, blushing and fawning. Suddenly, Shiri sat up straight in her seat.

“Grace, turn around.”

Walking away from us, toward the other side of the diner, were two older men. One wore a white and gold hockey jersey with Crosby 87 on the back. I sank down in the chair. Well shit. I hadn’t told them about this morning yet.

“So how did you leave it?” Laura asked.

“Hate to burst your teenybopper bubble, but this morning he was kind of an asshole. He managed to ask me to breakfast after he’d already walked me to the front door and possibly thrown up in his mouth. It was mean, really. I said no, because he clearly wanted me to say no, and then he looked so relieved. Like I’d just told him his illness wasn’t fatal. It was… what was it? Surprising? No. I went home from a club with some guy. Of course he doesn’t want to buy me breakfast. Turns out he’s fucking famous and no wonder he can’t wait for me to get out of there before I start calling the newspapers. Right? I guess it was a little disappointing though. I mean, I thought he might be cool. And the sex…”

Beth looked a little concerned. “I don’t think so, Grace. I don’t know him or anything but he seems really nice. Like too nice. And I don’t think he takes a lot girls home – you hear about some of the other guys, the guys from last night, but you never hear that about Crosby.”

“Hey!” Laura slapped the table. “Be nice. Some of us gave the other guy our phone number.”

“What?!” I almost shouted. “When? You guys all left alone, early. I didn’t think you gave your number to anyone.”

She looks at me almost cross-eyed. “I know you’re new, Grace, but this is Pittsburgh. If Max Talbot asks for your phone number, you fucking give it to him. I would have given him my work phone, social security number and blood type, but there wasn’t space in his iPhone.”


Shiri shrugged. “Look at it this way Grace, even if it’s just the sex it sounds like Sidney will be calling you again.”

I gave myself a facepalm, pulling the hand slowly down over my face. “He can’t call me.”

I stormed into practice late. “Who got a number last night?” I practically shouted, pulling my shirt off and hurrying to get ready for the skate.

“Looks like someone got yours, Captain.” Jordan lifted his hand toward my bare back. Shit. I’d forgotten Grace had clawed me up. “What the fuck? You left alone.”

I ignored him and searched the room. “Tanger?”

“No. Pas des filles pour moi hier soir.”


Max came sauntering in from the equipment room. “Max? Tell me you got a phone number last night. You always do.”

“Bien sur,” he tucked his skates under the bench. “Elle s’appelle… uh, Lisa? Linda? I let her type it in, I couldn’t hear her.”

I held out my hand for the phone and scrolled through the names. No Lisa or Linda. Max laughed and showed me an application for sorting numbers by the last one inputted. “I’d be fucked if I had to remember their names every morning,” he snickered.

“Or not fucked at all, actually,” Jordan tossed in.

The app said the last number added was Laura. Time stamp looked right. I held the phone back out to him. “Call her.”

“What, now? Captain. You need a lesson in women. If I call her now….”

I snarled. “Call her, or you’ll be a healthy scratch for the next month.”

Max rolled his eyes as me, but took the phone. Kris and Jordan came in close, not wanting to miss the action.

“Maybe Sid clawed himself up last night, little bitch,” Max smirked. “Hi, is that Laura? It’s Max Talbot. Yes… me too. I’m sorry our evening had to end so early. I was hoping to ask you two questions. The first, will you have dinner with me tomorrow night? Early, we’ve got a game afterward… yes, perfect. The second… your friend Grace… she is? May I speak with her?”

He was staring at me, along with everyone else in the room. Shit. Grace was there with Laura now. I made a grab for the phone but Max was nimble and darted away. I chased him, he jumped onto the bench and Jordan and Flower formed a little wall so I couldn’t get through. Now he was talking loudly.

“Grace! How are you? …Yes, understandable. Listen, I’m standing here with a very distressed Sidney, looking like maybe you did a number on him last night. My question is, why isn’t he calling you himself?... Oh! A fake phone number…”

The whole room chorused, “Ooooooooh.”

“… why?... He didn’t. Ma chere, pardonnez-moi mais… je suis desole. Il est un imbecile.” Max gave me a look that was almost fatherly, like ‘have I taught you nothing?’ and asked Grace, “Will you speak with him?”

I was trapped. If she said no I would never hear the end of it, if she said yes I would have to do it in front of everyone. Shit.

“Okay,” Max said, and I reached for the phone. He lifted it and hit the speaker button. “Grace you’re on with the entire Penguins team.”

“Hi Sidney,” she said, sounding a million miles away.

“A fake phone number, Grace?” I knew I sounded like a petulant child.

“If you want a real one, get it before you look so sick inviting someone to breakfast.” The guys all hissed and oohed.

“I… I couldn’t. I wanted to.”

“Well it was a shitty performance. Laura however is here nodding like she believes you. But Max is the furry one, right? With the dirty mind?”

The guys all howled and Max said, “At your service.”

Grace continued, “So Laura’s judgment is questionable.” Everyone laughed, except Max who said, “HEY!” Grace giggled and apologized. Flower rolled his arm like I had to keep going, let myself be humiliated here because obviously I humiliated her.

“Grace, I had fun last night.”

“That’s not all you had.” The guys were all in love with her now, cheering and whistling. She’d have her pick of the lot when this was over.

“You had fun too,” I shot back.

She gave in a little. “And today I can’t sit down.” The room exploded in whoops. Twenty guys tried to pat me on the back at once, but my back was a testament to Grace’s words and I dodged to escape them. Max put his hand over the speaker.

“Close the deal,” he whispered. Everyone waited.

“Will you be able to sit down tomorrow? I’d like to take you to the breakfast we should have had today.”

Silent applause went around the room. There was a pause on the line, I hoped this Laura girl was pleading my case. I guess it worked.

“Okay, you can make it up to me.”

I sighed, visibly relieved and a few of my teammates demonstrated their goal-scoring celebration moves. “Can I get your real number this time?”

She laughed. “Nope, but I have yours.” And she was gone.

When Laura’s phone rang, almost on cue during my story, she screamed like it was alive in her lap. “It’s Max!” I froze, blood running cold, while she danced around the booth. “Max Talbot is calling me!”

Shiri looked at my pale face. “No offense Laura, but I think it’s for Grace.”

She’d been right. And I had thoroughly enjoyed giving Sidney a facewash in front of his entire team. They were no big deal to me, but I didn’t take kindly to being treated like crap. Even if maybe I’d set myself up for it by going home with a stranger. Still, I had a little of my dignity back.

“You are amazing,” Beth said. “He fucks your brains out and then you find out he’s the World’s Most Eligible Guy and you still won’t give him your number. You could teach this shit online and make a fortune.”

I am relieved and little victorious. “It’s the only secret I have left.”

I barely made it through practice with the guys heckling me non-stop. Coach had to tell them to shut up and concentrate. I concentrated, but it wasn’t on the game. I felt her mouth, her breath, her skin on mine. I felt myself inside her, squeezed tight and seeing stars. Should I have asked to see her tonight? I wanted to, I almost had. But I was in trouble for making her feel cheap and inviting her out tonight was a clear enticement to another night of insanity. It wasn’t the right move, and I couldn’t take it anyway. We had a game tomorrow and I’d be lucky to have half my strength back.

I couldn’t even call her, couldn’t text her something flirty that Max made up because he wrote all our best stuff. The whole team got laid more because Max was behind 90% of what they said and did. It didn’t usually include me, but I needed some help.

“That’s the problem! If I take her to a restaurant for breakfast, it looks like I spent the night with her.”

“Well you did,” Jordan pointed out over dinner at his house, take away containers everywhere.

Kris put his food down. “Sid, you’re going to have to date someone, someday. Publicly.”

“I know. But I’d like to know her first, make sure I like her as a person before I put it out there. And make sure she likes me too, I mean… being my girlfriend is going to be pretty rough, right? Mario and Natalie talk about it all the time, and that was before the internet or anything. What if we hate each other?”

Max shrugs. “Well you started off wrong, mon ami. Try to make it right tomorrow.”

They helped me make a plan for the morning. It was unconventional and probably still not what Grace was looking for, but I had to do something. When I got home I lay in the mess we’d made of the bed, the sheets that smelled like her and us and tried to remember everything that had happened the night before. I could only come up with about six of the times we’d had sex, but I knew it was more than that. A smile came to my face – that sounded impressive. I wondered if she told her friends. I wondered if she was thinking about it now, thinking about me and how I’d touched her, how it felt to have me inside her. She certainly seemed satisfied; if she hadn’t enjoyed herself, she wouldn’t have let me do it ten times, right? And some of those she did herself. So she must have liked it. She must be home now, in bed probably naked in rumpled sheets, hands gingerly caressing the flesh that I’d scalded and bruised, maybe exploring the folds of her body, getting damp at the thought of having me again… shit. I jerked off three times before I could even think about sleep.

I took two showers that day, one when I got home from brunch and another before bed. Each one involved some very unclean thoughts and actions. Sidney Crosby. Before going to sleep I sat in front of my computer, wrapped in a towel with another around my hair, and looked him up on Google. There was so much. I read one article from Sports Illustated when he was a rookie, looking all cute and skinny with his shirt off. He was that times ten now. I read another from after they’d won the Stanley Cup and one about the Olympic victory. That was only two months ago. It certainly seemed like Beth, Laura and Shiri had been right. But did I want to know this guy?

I searched for gossip and scandal. There was almost none. I found one message board that featured a lot of hockey players and some incredibly crazy posts from women who claimed to have been with them. There were a few about Sid – but I knew from experience that they weren’t true. Mostly I found articles that mentioned how he’d never had a scandal in his life.

Then I looked at the photos. Zillions of game photos came up in a search – he looked intense and focused, the way he’d looked a few times last night when trying not to come before I did. In a couple he was laughing – that was new to me. He really was beautiful. Then there were a couple of videos of him working out… and that sent me right to bed. I watched thighs and arms and that incredible ass go through exercise demonstrations and it was obvious they were working. I closed my eyes and saw, no felt, those perfect body parts working for me, against me, beneath me and on top of me. I came twice almost the instant I touched myself. And once more before I fell asleep.

I was up long before she called. “Good morning, Grace.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

I told Natalie that someone was leaving their car in the drive but didn’t elaborate and I’d have t explain later. Right then I didn’t care.

Grace stepped out of her car and my body rocked physically at the sight of her, the memory of all that being mine for the taking. It was a sunny day, bound to be warm later but now still cool. She wore a pair of comfy-looking jeans that flashed hints of the incredible figure beneath. A dark green hooded sweatshirt was open over a tank top with a lacy edge along her chest. Her dark hair fell into her face a little and she smiled.


I was done already and I knew it. So I walked right over and kissed her, hand behind her head and tongue sliding into her mouth before she could protest, tell me I was a shit with a lot of explaining to do. She tasted like toothpaste and smelled like sunshine.

“Hi Grace,” I smiled down at her.

She took a tiny half-step back in warning. “Always get what you want, don’t you?” Then she went to the passenger side of my car.

I drove us over a few towns. She didn’t say anything, just watched the scenery pass as I tried to breathe deep and not get a boner at the sight of her neck turned up and away as she looked out the window. I pulled into the tiny deserted lot of a park and killed the engine.

“How about a picnic?”

We retrieved blankets and a cooler from the back of the truck and I led her down a path to some open grass. It was a beautiful park – the sun shone down and the birds were chirping – and secluded. There was no one around for miles, though the temperature was starting to rise. She kneeled down on the blanket to unpack the cooler and I got a glimpse of the top of her underwear, something red or pink and soft-looking. Thank God her back was to me as I had to adjust myself beneath my jeans.

I’d gone to a little gourmet market yesterday and bought everything that looked good: crusty baguette, creamy cheese, fresh figs and berries. I got fresh squeezed orange juice, sparkling water, apple slices with honey to dip them in. Max had declared the idea “very French” and approved.

“Looks delicious,” she said and I finally relaxed. She kicked off her shoes and rolled the hem of her jeans up, letting her bare feet rest in the grass still damp with morning dew. Her toenails were bright pink, something I hadn’t noticed last night. She tore off a piece of bread, put cheese and honey on it and held it out to me.

“Is this on the official hockey player diet?”

“Uh, no. Definitely not.”

“No wonder you look so good,” she smirked. I wanted to tear her clothes off right there and take her for all she was worth.

“So you know about the hockey part.” Part of me wanted her to never know who I was. To actually have something that was about me and not about hockey. The two had been interchangeable so long that even I didn’t know who I was without the game.

She smiled a little indulgently, like she was being patient with me. “Apparently I was the only one who didn’t. I apologize for not knowing how important you are.”

“It’s not… I don’t think I’m important. It’s just restrictive, it makes my life a little… difficult.”

“So what you’re saying is you’re kind of a big deal.” She swallowed a bite of apple.

I nodded. I guess that is what I was saying.

Her smile was wicked. “I know that Sidney. I have seen you naked.”

If that wasn’t an invitation then I don’t know what is. One second I was kneeling on my side of the blanket, a line of food laid between us like a moat and she’s the castle. Well I scaled the fucking walls and came down on top of her, my mouth finding hers just as my lap met her thigh and cushioned the hard-on I was starting to grow. She let me kiss her, no smart remarks, just the taste of honey and apples on her cool lips. My tongue feasted on hers, food forgotten, while I let the rest of my body run rampant with desire. Grace ground her leg into my erection, knowing exactly the effect she had because I could barely breathe in her arms.

Fuck hockey. Fuck the rules, fuck everything. It was time for me to have something that I want.

“Grace, I want to…,” but she already was. She unzipped my pants as little as possible and then her hand was on me; I jumped like I’d been slapped, her fingers soft against my raging flesh. I thought she might finish me with her hand and that would be fine, less dangerous certainly, but the soft slick of her mouth had me thinking about another spot in her body. She stroked me to full length and went for her own jeans.

I helped. My fingers pulled away the satin of her panties and dipped beneath the surface of her pussy, coming away wet already. Two fingers slid into her and she kissed me harder, her gasp lost in my mouth. Grace’s hand guided me right to the spot and she spread herself open to let me in.

What am I doing? I am completely insane. I could have given him a hand job, his cock was pulsing in my palm, but I wanted more. I was greedy for the way he glued me to the floor. I give myself a lecture and this guy shit for treating me like I was some kind of fuck-o-matic, and there I was getting laid in a public park in full daylight. His thick, meaty cock slid easily up my crease because I was soaking wet. Already. Whore.

But it felt so good that I couldn’t keep my diatribe up for long. We were limited by our clothing, the only option for sex being the good old-fashioned face-to-face kind. All his weight was on me and there would be a Grace-shaped dent in the ground when we were done. If we were ever done – I’m pretty sure I could fuck this guy for the rest of eternity, right here on the ground.

“Sidney,” I said for no reason.

He breathed a response and moved harder. We were like kids, hot and horny, ready to do it on a moment’s notice and finish even faster. His hand was up my shirt, under my bra, thumbing my hard nipple like the button on a remote control. I wrapped by legs around his calves, angling him into me better with my jeans around my knees. He grunted as he dug deep.

His jeans were still over his ass, but I slid my hands down the skin and pulled him into me as hard as I could. I wanted all of him and I wanted it right now. The pressure of pleasure was building quickly in my lower back and I shivered despite all our clothes. That made him smile.

“Sorry I got breakfast wrong yesterday,” he said, a little short of breath.

“When you said make up for it, I should have known you meant this.”

He swung hard, thighs and arms finely tuned from those exercises I’d seen online. He could turn and twist and thrust with precision, and he used that to advantage in our close quarters. Sidney was as hard as he’d been anytime last night and I knew he was close.

“Don’t you have a game tonight?” I whispered, sliding along the blanket and strumming my g-spot against the head of his dick.

“Do you want me to stop?” he smiled against my cheek and slammed a huge stroke into that hot button. I came like a freight train, back arching and hands grabbing. I bit down on the collar of his sweatshirt to stifle my scream and let it rip through me. Rolling beneath him was not easy, but I did. He rode it hard, still stroking, making sure he cleaned every little corner before he let me go.

My forehead pressed to the curve of her neck, the scent of her skin intoxicated me as I came, spilling over and drowning myself inside her hot, sweet core. I pulsed and pumped, taking and taking from the sensation until I’d dripped it dry. I kissed her and we both felt my cock loosening its grip on her body.

I rolled off but held her down with one arm while I reached for the linen napkins I’d bought yesterday. They were soft and I used one to clean her up, gingerly mopping where we’d spilled each other on her skin. She took it and did the same for me as I lay back and looked at the sky. When she finished, I put my arm out under her back and pulled her into my side, like a normal couple cuddling in the park.

“Should we try breakfast again?” I asked as my stomach growled.

“Third time’s the charm.”


  1. Hilarious - especially loved the phone call :)

  2. Love this story!!! I am interested to see how she gets to the hate she expressed in chpt 1

  3. --I couldn’t even call her, couldn’t text her something flirty that Max made up because he wrote all our best stuff.

    So funny and probably true.

    I'm loving this story. Please keep writing and posting frequently!

  4. I'm in agreement with Anon #1.