Two Minute Penalties
by be287m

--Game Six--

I got to Sunday’s practice early enough to catch Pete as he was headed out onto the ice.  He looked a little confused when I said I needed to talk to him after practice, particularly when I said he should catch me before he showered.  But since he was blocking the path to the ice for his teammates, he didn’t stop to ask.

I had just started my book when Steve plopped down next to me.

“Well, hello stranger,” I greeted him.  He tipped an imaginary hat in reply.

“Don’t normally see you here at this time.  What brings you ‘round to these parts?” I drawled.

“Well, ma’am, I heard that there was a beautiful woman reading a book by herself somewhere around here.” he replied.

“Where?!?!”  I quickly twisted around looking everywhere before Steve stopped me and gave me a gentle kiss.  We just grinned at each other for a while.

“I think I found her,” he murmured, before kissing me again.  Awww.

We chitchatted a bit and watched the hockey practice for a while.  I could tell something was on Steve’s mind, though.  I was starting to recognize the tenseness behind his eyes.

“So,” he finally said, turning to me, “did we go too fast last night?”  I let out a deep breath and chuckled.

“No,” I reassured him.  “No next day regrets.”  He visibly relaxed.

“I was a little nervous about getting caught,” I continued, “but I trusted you.”

“That’s really good to hear,” Steve said, “that you trusted me.”  The strength had returned to his voice.

“I must admit,” I said, “I’m not used to it.  To trusting a guy.”

Steve grinned.  “Maybe you just hadn’t met the right guy.”  I nodded my head in acknowledgement.  He reached over and squeezed my hand.  Then he turned back to watching the practice, still clasping my fingers in his.

Had I?  Had I met a man I could trust?

I certainly hadn’t resisted in taking my panties off when he’d asked.  That certainly wasn’t typical for me.  Then I remembered the caress of his fingers and began grinning.  Steve looked over and grinned back.  He squeezed my hand again.

Oh yes, I wanted this man. 

Practice finished up and we wandered to the door to the women’s locker room.  Pete was there almost immediately, sweaty in his full gear and still carrying his helmet and stick.

“What’s up, Liz?” he asked.

“It’s Sandy,” I replied, motioning towards the locker room door.  “She wants you to wash her back.”

The look of surprise on his face was priceless.  Pete started at stunned, then shifted to disbelief, then eager delight.

“Wow!” he finally panted.  “Here,” he said, thrusting his stick and helmet at Steve.  Then Pete pushed past us and entered the locker room.

“What am I going to do with this?” Steve mused, looking at the hockey stick in his hand.

“Restart your little league career?” I suggested.

“Nah.  Never could shoot.”

“Tell me about it,” I asked.

So he did.  We found a comfortable place to sit against the wall where we could stand guard against any unintentional intrusions on Sandy and Pete, and Steve told me about playing hockey.  He told me about the thrill of speeding down the ice and the joy in slapping the puck hard.  Inaccurately, he admitted, but hard.  He talked about some of his mishaps--learning how to skate backwards and how to hit the boards without knocking himself down.  He got me laughing at the antics of his younger self, Stevie Bowman, determined future Hall of Famer for the Red Wings.  I leaned into him and then we shifted until I had my head in his lap, lying on the floor.  He held me and stroked my arms as we laughed and shared stories and passed the time.

Oh, this happiness was heady stuff!

I lay there thinking about how incredible this man was--smart, funny, warm, strong, good in bed.  Well, I could only assume that last one, but I already knew I was itching to find out for sure.  And speaking of itching--a thought at the back of my mind kept trying to claw its way to consciousness.  Eventually it did.

Why me?

Finally it bugged me enough to ask.

“Besides the fact that you’re smart, beautiful, funny, and have great legs?” Steve replied.  I playfully slapped him on the arm.  He pulled me back to sitting so he could look in my eyes when he spoke next.

“It’s the mix, Liz,” he stated.  “You’re the right balance of fire and gentleness I need.”

“Go on.”

“I’m a Dom.  From time to time I need to be able to do things like we did last night.”  I blushed at his grin.  “You both enjoyed it and didn’t run away screaming.  Even when I asked you today about having any regrets.”

“But I’m not a Dom 24/7.  I need a partner who isn’t passive and submissive all the time.  Who can tease and push back when it’s called for.  Who can take charge sometimes and not need me to be in control all the time.”

“Do you remember when we met?” Steve asked.  “You flirted with me and I just shut you down.  I made it clear I wasn’t interested in flirting at all.  But instead of moving on to the next guy or trying to come on even harder, you switched to friendly banter about my choice of team to root for.”

“You were the one that approached me at Pete and Sandy’s next game, remember?”  Indeed, I did.  “That’s when I realized that you were interested in me as a person, not because of what I could do for you.  Or to you.”  His eyes clouded with that last sentence, remembering.  I squeezed his hand in the silence.

“You don’t want me only for what I can do,” he uttered finally.

“No,” I said, smiling at him.  “Though it doesn’t hurt.”

“It only hurts if you want it to,” he joked.  That earned him another playful swat on the arm.

“But Steve,” I said, “there have to be hundreds of women out there who have that balance.”

“You’d be surprised,” he replied.

“But still.”

“I don’t have a shopping list, Liz.  I’m not interviewing candidates for the position of ‘Steve’s girlfriend.’  Instead, it’s the way my pulse quickens when I see you.  It’s the way I smile at the sound of your voice.”

Steve looked at me and his eyes softened.

“You’re an incredible woman, Liz, in a number of ways.  You may not be able to see that quite the way I do, but it’s true.  I see a lot, and I’m very good at noticing the details that count.  You’re a beautiful woman.  Inside and out.”

Who was I to argue with that?

I leaned back into him and we just cuddled in silence until Sandy and Pete emerged, goofily grinning and hanging all over each other.

“Her back clean?” I asked Pete.

“Ohhh yeahhhh,” he announced.  We all laughed and headed out into the night.

Monday night Detroit lost, knocking them out of the playoffs.  Once again, I’d stayed up until it was over, which was taxing because the game went into overtime for quite a while.

Instead of feeling glad that the hated Red Wings were out, I felt hollow.  I realized Steve would still be up.  I reached for the phone.

“Hey Steve, it’s Liz,” I said, recognizing his voice.  “I called because I thought you might need a friendly voice right now.”

“I appreciate that,” he sighed.  “This was supposed to be their year.  Best record, top seed, good talent.  They were supposed to do better.”

“Yeah, it really sucks,” I chimed in.

Steve snorted.  “You know, it’s nice to hear someone in this state saying that ‘the Red Wings losing sucks’, instead of just ‘the Red Wings suck.’”

“They’re your team, Steve,” I replied, “that’s what counts.”

“Thanks, Liz.  That’s really good to hear.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

“No, you could do less.  But you didn’t.  Thanks.”

“If it’s any consolation,” he continued, “I’ll be rooting for the Avs tomorrow night.  For the same reason you were rooting for the Red Wings.”  I just silently smiled.

We talked a little longer but since it was late we soon said our goodnights.  Steve said he’d call me after the Avs game on Tuesday.

But Tuesday was a mess!  I ended up leaving work late and had to run errands on my way home.  I listened to the first period of the game on the car radio and felt my nerves get fried as the Sharks took shot after shot and the Avs couldn’t clear their end of the ice.  Fortunately, Aebischer was good and we escaped into the first intermission with no score.  I dashed into the store to complete my errands and when I emerged . . . the Sharks had scored three goals.

I was dumbfounded.

Sure, the Avs played hard, and even got a goal on a five on three, but it wasn’t in doubt.  The game ended.  The Avalanche were out of the playoffs.

The phone rang shortly after I got home.  It was Steve, as promised.

“I’m sorry they lost,” he said.

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Anything I can do?” he offered.  I let out a deep sigh.

“It’s been an awful day.  I think I just want to go to bed.  Tomorrow I want to forget about it.”

“Tomorrow’s Sandy and Pete’s championship game and the party afterwards,” he reminded me.

“Actually, that sounds great,” I replied.  “I think we both could use a reason to celebrate something related to hockey.”  Steve chuckled in agreement and then we called it a night.

And celebrate we did!  Sandy was on fire and got a shutout in the championship game!  The other team played hard and well, forcing it into overtime, but their goalie wasn’t as good and had survived regulation largely on luck.  He didn’t stay lucky in OT and the first line got one by.  Sandy and Pete were the league champions!

The party was up in the mountains at the home of one of the other players, which was good because it got loud.  Steve and I spent some time circulating together but weren’t joined at the hip all evening.  We’d been there about an hour when I got an idea.

I’d gotten lost on the upper floor of the house looking for a restroom.  In the process, I’d stumbled onto a door leading to a balcony that looked out into the trees.  Being on the opposite side of the house from the party, the din of the revelers was muted.  There was a comfortable chair where the owners obviously rested when catching the late day sun.

I headed back into the party and grabbed Steve and then Sandy.  When we got back to the balcony door, I motioned for Sandy to stop.

“You owe me,” I told her.  “Stand guard.”  She laughed and settled down in the hallway in front of the door.  I led Steve through, shut the door behind us, and motioned for him to sit in the chair.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Detroit lost.  I’m going to collect my two minutes.”

“Oh really?”  he mused.

“You bet!”

“And just how are you going to collect?” Steve asked.

“Well,” I said, sinking to my knees in front of him.

“I’m not as good with my fingers as you are . . . ” I said, reaching for his belt.  He tried to help me unbuckle it, but I pushed his hands away.

“. . . but I’m sure . . .”

I started tugging at his pants and underwear.  He raised his hips to accommodate me and I soon slid them to his ankles.  He had a beautiful cock.

“. . . I can come up . . .”

I slid my fingers around his shaft, holding him gently.

“. . . with something!”

I lowered my head and eased his cock into my mouth.  Steve let out a small gasp.

I began to lick and kiss him, gently sucking the head for a moment before taking him deeper.  I stroked his cock with my fingers and slowly ran my tongue up the side of his shaft.  Steve tried to bring his hands down to touch me and I pushed them away.

“My two minutes,” I told him, pausing for a moment.  The I resumed my oral caresses.  Steve was soon slick from my saliva and his pre-cum.

I tried taking him in all the way, but he was too large for comfort.  Instead I found that I could make him gasp with just the smallest amount of suction as I bobbed back and forth.  I kept my strokes slow and steady, bringing my hands into play with the same rhythm at the base of his cock.  I swirled my tongue around and then looked up, meeting his eyes.  His breathing was getting fast and shallow.

I applied a little more suction and speeded up just a notch.  Steve’s gasps were deeper and he began to throb.  I slid back until just the glans was in my mouth, stroking his shaft with my hands.  Steve let out a short strangled cry and flooded my mouth with cum.  I began swallowing and lost only a little, letting it dribble out over my lips.

I let his cock slide from my mouth and then sat back, smiling.  When I had Steve’s attention, I slowly lifted a finger, caught the drops of his cum that had escaped my mouth, and then suckled the finger clean.  Steve let out a groan of appreciation.  I just smiled.

“Okay, that’s it!” he finally declared once he’d recovered his breath.  “I’m collecting my minutes Saturday night!”

We sat grinning at each other for a while, in no hurry to get back to the party.  Steve pulled his pants back up and just shook his head happily.

“Saturday!” he promised.

I could hardly wait.

--end Game Six-- 
Copyright © 2004 All rights reserved.