VIOLET
The next evening, Charlene hangs out at my place. I have a plan to get Sidney to take us to the game in Toronto, and Charlene is part of the persuasion package.
I prepare for martini happy hour and wait for my mother’s arrival. The drinks are necessary. She’s a cyclone you don’t want to get caught up in, especially with Charlene around to feed her hyperactivity. I didn’t get my energy level from my mom.
Martini in hand, Charlene follows me into my bedroom while I search my drawers for something comfortable to wear. I need to do laundry. All my favorite Marvel Comic boxer briefs are dirty. I settle on leggings and a T-shirt.
“What’s this?” Charlene asks.
I turn, prepared to issue a snide comment, until I see she’s holding the Waters beaver. My fingers twitch with the urge to rip it from her hands.
“It’s a stuffed animal.” I pick up my phone from my dresser and scroll through my messages to avoid eye contact.
“I see that. Where’d you get it?” Charlene flips it over, inspecting the back of its mini jersey.
“Alex sent it to me.” My skin gets hot. I bet I’m blotchy.
“Oh, Violet.” Charlene nuzzles the beaver, rubbing her nose on top of its head. “Do you sleep with his beaver?”
She’s mocking me, and I don’t appreciate it. Plus she’s touching my Waters beaver. I’m a tad territorial about my presents from Alex. I don’t let anyone else near the books he’s sent me. I also hid the box of Godiva from my mom to avoid sharing.
“You can’t tell me that if you had a full-body pillow in the likeness of Darren Westinghouse, you wouldn’t hump it before bed every night.”
Charlene drops the beaver on my bed and wipes her hands on her pants. “You’re disgusting.”
“I don’t hump his beaver. I was making a point, you pervert.”
“Oh. Right. Do you think I can get a full-body pillow of Darren?”
“I’m sure you could have one made.”
I pick up the beaver and cuddle him furtively—or not so furtively—before I set him back on the bed, pet his little head, and stroke his cute buck teeth.
“So what’s going on? You’re like a crack addict on a sugar high right now.”
I’m fidgety and bouncy, which are telltale signs something’s going down. “I have a plan for—” I’m interrupted by a knock at the door.
My flower delivery guy is holding a huge bouquet of flowers with a Canadian flag perched between white and red carnations, white lilies, and a bunch of other flowers conforming to the same color scheme. The theme is strictly Canadian. Charlene is right on my heels, looking over my shoulder.
“Hi, Fred.”
“How’s it going, Violet?” He seems nervous. I can’t blame him. The last time he was here, I was pissed off and took it out on the flowers. I also made mention of hockey whores and hookers.
“I’m good. Sorry about last week.” I take the flowers. Charlene is practically piggybacking me to get a look at them. “This is my friend Charlene.”
“Hi.” Charlene waves.
“Hey.” Fred waves back and gestures to the flowers. “I guess you made up?”
“We did.”
Fred nods and looks down at his feet. This is weird.
“Well, thanks for bringing the flowers. Have a good night.” I send him on his morose way.
“I bet Alex would be pissed if he found out the guy who delivers his flowers has a crush on you.”
I put the new bouquet in a vase. “Fred doesn’t have a crush on me.”
Charlene snorts but doesn’t comment further. “Hey, there’s something else here.”
A small box sits in the middle of the bouquet. I open the card first.
I can’t wait to show you around my hometown.
~xo Alex
Charlene grabs the card out of my hand. “What’s this? His hometown? “xo”? Oh my God! What’s going on?”
“Alex wants me to come to his game in Toronto.”
“And?”
“And spend the weekend with him in Guelph.”
“Bless you.” Charlene hands me a tissue. “So where are you spending the weekend? You’ve already said yes, right?”
“Guelph and no.”
Charlene plucks another tissue from the box.
“I’m not sneezing. Guelph is the name of his hometown, you asshole. I needed to make sure I could get the time off work first before I said yes.” I cleared it with the boss this morning. I told him it would be good for networking. It’s not a total lie.
“This is huge. I can’t believe he invited you to his hometown. Does that mean you’ll meet his family? You have to go to this game.”
“If we can convince my mom we need to go to Toronto, she’ll pester Sidney until he agrees, and he’ll get the tickets. The team is doing really well. He’ll want to support Buck.”
“Smart thinking.”
I hand a martini glass to Charlene. “Right?”
Having Alex buy the ticket for me is far too extravagant for a second date. If my parents go, it solves all the issues. I’ll still feel a little guilty about it, but I’ll survive.
The other part of my plan is to convince Charlene to come, too. I’ll need her moral support at the game. It’s a lot to ask since I’m not sure I can get Sidney to spring for her plane ticket as well. “Will you come?”
“Are you kidding?”
“Sidney can probably get an extra ticket to the game and the hotel will be covered.”
Charlene immediately starts searching for last minute flights on her phone. “And I’ll get to meet Darren in person, what could possibly be better?”
I clink my martini glass against Charlene’s. I’ve got her on my side. All I need is to convince my mom and it’s a go.
The deep rumble of my mother’s Mustang and the heavy dance beats signal her arrival at the end of drink number two. As usual, she doesn’t knock. “Is that Char’s car in the driveway?”
“Hi!” Charlene puts down the shaker to accept my mom’s overzealous embrace.
“You look great!” Mom kicks off her shoes and wanders into the kitchen. “Is that a martini? What kind is it? You girls don’t mind if I join you for a drink, do you? Sidney’s got a conference call in an hour, and I’m not in the mood for a quickie.”
I pretend I don’t hear the last part and help Char make her a drink.
“Oh, new flowers!” She waves her hands in the air like she’s ready to break into a dance routine. She sniffs the blossoms. “These are beautiful! What’s this?” She picks up the small box on the counter.
I completely forgot about it, having gotten caught up in explaining the situation to Charlene.
“I’m not sure.” I’m hopeful it’s nothing inappropriate or my mom is likely to overshare her own personal experiences.
She thrusts the package at me. “Well, open it.”
I take it with some reluctance, praying it’s not porn related.
I tear away the red and white paper to uncover a box of maple leaf shaped candies. Huh. This is far from offensive. I’ve grown accustomed to Alex’s mildly inappropriate gifts, cards, and emails.
I pop one into my mouth. It dissolves the moment it hits my tongue. Oh God, it’s heavenly. It’s like . . . maple sugar. Soooooo good. I do the contented moan thing. I don’t want to share them because I’m greedy, but I feel bad moaning my food pleasure while they stare.
“Want one?” I grudgingly ask with a mouthful of melting maple sugar.
They make the same noise I did. Now I get why they were staring. They sound like they’re on the brink of a sugar orgasm.
“Can you get these outside of Canada?” Charlene asks with a knowing look. “I’d go to Canada just to get something like this.” She plucks another one from the box.
How much less subtle can you get?
“I don’t know.” My mom takes another one, too.
It’s a small box. I don’t want to continue to share, especially if you can only get them in Canada where maple trees abound. I guess I could ask Alex to get me more. Knowing him, he’ll send me a year’s supply. Not that I’d complain.
“You should ask Alex.” She goes in for a third.
“Hey.” I smack her hand, gathering the half-empty box close to my chest.
“Aren’t they playing in Toronto this weekend?” Charlene gives me the perfect segue.
“Oh!” My mom gets all excited and bounces up and down. Hint dropped. “We should go! Can you get Friday off, Violet? I’m sure Sidney will be all for going. Any excuse is a good one to go see Buck play!”
I’m shocked at how easy this is. I fully expected Charlene and I to have to work for a minimum of ten minutes to get to this point. Instead it takes one question. Some of the credit should go to the maple sugar candies.
“What about you, Charlene? Would you like to take a trip to Canada with us? Maybe we can find you a hottie hockey player, too! This is going to be so much fun!” She claps her hands together and bounces some more. “I’ve only been to Canada once. We should get as much of that maple stuff as we can.”
My mom takes out her cell phone and starts texting away. Her texting skills are terrible. She’s forever shortening words you can’t shorten.
Her phone pings. “I’ll chat with Sidney and report back!” She gulps the rest of her martini, hops around as she puts on her shoes, and disappears out the door.
Twenty minutes later I get a text from my mom confirming that we’re indeed going to Toronto. I have some idea as to how she managed to make it happen so fast.
My mom is convinced it will be more fun if I don’t tell Alex I’m coming. Charlene isn’t quite as enthusiastic about the plan, but I’m a fan of surprises—as long as they’re the good kind. Despite her reluctance, Charlene helps me fabricate a bogus excuse about a meeting I can’t get out of on Friday and a presentation I have to prepare for first thing Monday morning. I call Alex and give him the “bad news.” He’s so disappointed he doesn’t even want to have phone sex. I feel awful for withholding the truth and for the absence of dirty talk on the phone. I’m hoping the surprise factor will be worth it.
Preparing for a weekend away is a boatload of work, especially when one is packing for a whole lot of sexin’ with a superhot hockey player. Charlene, my boobs, and I head out on a shopping expedition to Victoria’s Secret. I buy three bra and panties sets of the sexy, frilly variety—all of them with red featured somewhere. Beyond the sexified undies, I hit up Target and splurge on a selection of new fun ones since Alex seems to be very interested in seeing me in them.
Thursday is the slowest day on the face of the earth. I’m busy with meetings and Alex has practice, so a few quick texts are all we manage first thing in the morning.
This time I’m much more prepared, having packed the night before; Charlene’s bag and mine are already in the back of Sidney’s SUV. She makes a quick trip to the staff bathroom at the end of the work day to change since we’re being taken directly from work to the airport. Charlene comes out of the bathroom dressed like she’s ready for a night of clubbing instead of a flight.
“Is this too much?” She adjusts her pleather skirt.
“Not if you’re planning on being in a music video.”
Charlene flips me the bird as she struts to the elevator. “I look hot.”
My mom loves her outfit. I’m not surprised.
Our seats are first class, as usual. Charlene has never flown with the entitled before.
“There’s so much legroom! I can’t believe we drink for free!” She rubs her palms up and down the leather armrests.
As soon as we’re in the air, I order shots to settle my nerves. All it does is loosen her lips and mine.
Charlene yammers away about the game and how she plans to introduce herself to Darren. Bad friend that I am, I’m not paying close attention. I’m too focused on what the weekend with Alex will entail, besides sex.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“Definitely.” I nod emphatically, pretending I’ve been listening the entire time.
“So you think scaling the boards and jumping onto the ice so I can blow Darren in front of a crowd of thousands is a good way to introduce myself?”
I stifle a giggle. “On second thought, no. I don’t think you should do that.”
“Violet, I need some help here.”
“Just be yourself. If you end up in his room, making out, don’t tell him you love him or his cock or anything. Not the first time you . . . do whatever.”
“You told Alex you loved him when you met him?” Charlene’s expression is incredulous and a little hurt, probably because this is the first disclosure of such information.
“No. I didn’t even know who he was. I may have professed my love to his man unit when I was coming, though.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did.” I promised myself I would take that gem to the grave.
“Wow. It really must be huge.”
My mom’s head pops over the seat in front of me. “What are we talking about?”
“Nothing.”
“Alex,” Charlene says at the same time.
“I’ve heard some interesting rumors about him, but this one is tight-lipped.” My mom inclines her head in my direction.
“Apparently they’re true,” Charlene says with zero consideration for my privacy.
“Char!” I smack her arm.
“What?”
“You had an awful lot of trouble walking the day after your sleepover,” my mom says.
“I’m not discussing this with you, especially not on a plane.”
“Fine, fine. Charlene and I can talk later.” She winks at Char and drops into her seat. I can hear her talking to Sidney. There’s a lot of giggling. I wish she wasn’t such a fan of the overshare, especially with Sid.
We go directly to the stadium upon our arrival. Downtown Toronto isn’t much different than Chicago—full of skyscrapers and horrendous traffic. I’m not sure what I thought it would be like. Maybe I expected elves, like the North Pole, which is ridiculous since it’s only an hour north of the US border. Apart from his monster cock, Alex is just like regular people. If all Canadian men are that gifted, I can understand why people would be willing to deal with the frigid winters.
We make it to the stadium with only minutes to spare. Charlene is shocked by the outfits—or lack thereof—on some of the hockey hookers. Her pleather skirt is modest in comparison.
“Should I have dressed like that?”
Charlene eyes a girl wearing a Waters jersey that’s been converted into a mini-dress, complimented by eight-hundred-inch heels.
“No. Definitely not. Your cooter would freeze and fall off. Then what would you have to offer Darren?”
Our conversation is put on hold as Chicago takes the ice. Even in all the padding and loose-fitting hockey gear, Alex is hot. I can’t wait to get my hands on him post-game. I’m going to molest his fine ass, Buck’s reaction be damned. It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen him; my beaver is hungry for some wood.
Chicago is up by the end of first period, but something is off with Alex. He’s irritated. I can see it in the set of his jaw and the overly aggressive way he deals with the opposing team. On the bench he’s antsy, following the action of the game with his lips mashed in a thin line. He yells when one of the defense gets knocked down by a Toronto forward. It’s like he’s looking for a fight.
Buck is playing like he owns the rink. He deflects four goals in the second period, allowing Chicago to stay ahead. Darren scores a goal at the end of the second period, giving them a solid two-point lead.
At the beginning of the third period, Alex faces off at center ice. Just as the ref blows the whistle his head snaps up. The puck hits the ice, and Alex’s gloves are off. Toronto’s center doesn’t even see it coming. Alex grabs his cage with one hand and punches him in the stomach with the other.
Alex knocks him down and straddles him, pulling at his helmet. It pops off and rolls across the ice. Then he starts slamming his fist into the center’s face. Toronto guy manages to get a couple of shots in. They’re relatively ineffective. Alex is just . . . kicking the everloving shit out of this guy.
Finally, the refs get their shit together and break it up. His opposition is bleeding all over the ice. I shouldn’t find this level of violence hot.
“What are they doing?” I ask as refs escort a raging Alex off the ice.
Sidney gives me a dubious look. “He’s being ejected from the game, Violet. He just kicked the shit out of someone.”
Of course he has, but what happens now? Alex is fury incarnate as he stomps awkwardly down the hallway in his skates, disappearing from view. Someone needs to calm Alex down. I’m hoping it will be me.
“I need to pee, I’ll be right back.”
I make my way through the stands toward the locker room, aware I may not get past security. I must have a horseshoe stuck where the sun don’t shine because security is too busy chatting up a couple of puck bunnies to notice as I slip inside the locker room.
I can hear a low thud followed by Alex swearing. I peek around the corner.
Alex’s uniform is strewn across the floor, along with his padding and most of his gear. All he has on is a jockstrap, highlighting his package, which appears larger than usual. It could be a figment of my imagination caused by two weeks of his absence.
His muscles are tense, his jaw flexing, and his nostrils flare with his wrath. He hurtles his skate across the room. It slams into the wall, leaving a hole in the drywall.
I’m nervous and my panties are damp. My thought is singular: angry, hot, locker-room sex.
“Alex.”
His eyes are vibrant with ire. His back expands and contracts with every heavy exhalation of breath. He rolls his shoulders, his gaze moving over me in a hungry, feral sweep.
Oh. My. God. He’s terrifyingly hot. Like The Hulk, but sexy, not green.
I’m so going to get laid in a locker room.
Go me.
