Chapter 11

This chapter was eluding me, like seeing something out of the corner of your eye but just not quite being able to get a good look so...thanks for the patience

"You gonna pick me up after practice. Some of the guys are gonna go to Blackie's after," Pat grinned enthusiastically as if the thought of a big greasy burger was the only thing he had to look forward to as he bent to press a kiss to my cheek. 

"No, I have an interview, remember? I told you." I knew he hadn't thought that I was serious. His only reaction when I had told him about it was to ask if I needed money and then he'd just gone on with what he was doing as if I hadn't said a thing. Now he stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror as if I'd just said something in Swahili.

"But none of the WAGs have jobs," he cried, eyes wide as if my mere suggestion of holding down a job was tantamount to my taking out a sign on the side of the `L' wearing a Canucks jersey. I rolled my eyes at him and went back to carefully applying eyeliner. 

"That was part of the deal, remember?" I prompted, carefully drawing a dark brown line on my upper lid and then reaching for an angle brush to smudge it. Pat ran a hand through his golden curls which were getting longer than they had been during the summer and looked actually upset that I wanted to go out and make an honest living. I rolled my eyes at his reflection and tried to concentrate on my other eye.

"But none of the WAGs work," he reiterated, this time a whine in his tone that reminded me that he was the only boy in a house full of girls where, if bad behaviour didn't get his mother's attention, whining might. Well it might work with his mom, I thought as I reached for a tube of tinted lip gloss, but it definitely won't with me. 

"And that's their prerogative. I am going to though," I told him in what I hoped was a no-nonsense tone that would make it clear that this wasn't up for debate.

"You get that I have lots of money right?" he asked, desperation leaking into his voice. I raised one eyebrow at him in the mirror and smirked.  "It's just...it's stupid for you to work when you can be...be...," he threw up his hands and I wondered if he didn't know the word or if he was afraid to say it out loud. 

"You want me to be available whenever you want? Just snap your fingers and I come running?" A wide tooth filled grin replaced the worried frown he'd just been wearing and for a brief and shining moment he thought he'd won, until he caught on to the fact that I was being sarcastic. 

"Well I didn't mean it like that!" he insisted and shoved his hands down into the pockets of his jeans and went back to looking sullen. I smiled as I closed my make-up case and stowed it under the sink. 

"You did and that's okay," I said quietly as I wrapped my arms around his middle and leaned my head on his shoulder. "It's kind of sweet in a suffocating kind of way," I added doing my best to keep any amusement out of my voice. It was hard for me to believe that his ego, or any of the players on his team for that matter, could possibly be affected by having their significant other take a simple front office job.

"I just don't get it. You don't have to...," he began and I cut him off with look that made him sigh and shrug his shoulders. 

"I want to. This isn't about you Pat. It's the way I was raised. I just don't feel comfortable doing the whole parasite thing." I could see that he didn't quite know what I was trying to tell him, only that he knew he'd lost the argument. 

"The guys are gonna ride me about this," he pouted, hanging his head so that his now more abundant curls fell into his forehead and nearly hid his blue eyes. 

"Well you could tell them that at least I'm earning my way, not looking for a handout," I replied petulantly and then winced, thinking better of it. Most of the WAGs had children to take care of, and besides, I liked them. "Or...you could just tell them to fuck off."

"I think that would work better," he agreed and then slowly wrapped his arms around me, tilted his head backwards and surveyed me like I was a prize filly. "You look extra...pretty," he said, his lips turning up at one corner. 

"Is that all? I was going for professional but modern, feminine but hard working." He looked thoughtful for a moment and then shrugged. 

"You look pretty to me. I'd hire you," he smirked. I rolled my eyes. 

"And I bet I can guess just what for too," I chuckled. His smirk grew into what only could be described as a lasciviously feral grin.

"Do you have time before your interview to uh...practice?" he asked, reaching up and dragging the elastic out of my hair and then running his fingers through it so that it fell softly around my shoulders.

"Practice huh?" I raised an eyebrow. He smiled, shrugged and then leaned in to capture my mouth with his, softly. 

"They keep telling me practice makes everyone better," he whispered. "But no one will tell me how I can improve on perfection." I threw my head back and laughed. 

To see her sitting behind a desk in the office wearing prim, conservative office attire made me want to grab her by the pony tail that swung enticingly behind her head and force her up against the nearest wall just so that I could see if the blouse she was wearing felt as soft and as silky as her skin. She glanced sideways at me as she brought the file that Stan had buzzed for and her warm smile faded but only at the edges.

She had to bend at the waist to hand the file across the long, wide mahogany desk and I can't help but take a long look at the way he tight slate gray pencil skirt she's wearing hugs the curve of her ass. She caught me looking and narrowed her eyes. I smiled. She frowned.

"Always at the top of the class as far as the fitness tests go," Stan noted, opening the folder and scanning the contents. I felt like flexing for her but settled on rolling my shoulders and watching her try not to watch.

"How'd Pat do?" I asked with my gaze still on her and she shot me a dark look. She said I had to play but she didn't say I had to play fair.

"Well that's why I called you in...umm thank you Beth," he said quietly as he dismissed her. She dropped her gaze and turned to head out the door but I could see that her lips were still pressed in a decidedly unhappy line.

Stan's gaze had returned to the pages in front of him so I indulged my new favourite pass time and watched her walk towards me, noting the way her blouse moved like liquid metal against her skin. As she came parallel to my chair I let my hand casually drop from the arm of the chair and reached out to brush my fingers up over her ankle. I didn't think it was my imagination, I was sure I heard her gasp.

I didn't stop there either. I slowly ran the back of my hand up her calf to the back of her knee where the fabric of her skirt pulled tight. Glancing up I found myself staring into two flashing orbs of green fire. Her red lips opened and formed the word `stop'. I smiled up at her and trailed my fingers very slowly back down her calf.

"Beth...is there something else?" Stan queried without raising his eyes from the folder in front of him like he had eyes in the top of his head or something.

"No, sir, nothing at all," she replied brusquely and left the room like she was hot footing it on burning coals. I watched her until the door closed behind her, smirking to myself. If she wanted games, I could play all kinds of games.

"About Pat," Stan said slowly, bringing my attention back to him. I waited until he looked up from the folder and gave him my most receptive smile. "Joel and I, as I think you know, have been talking about some line juggling." I nodded. The subject had come up. "We just wanted your input. Who you think he'd be best paired with?"

The question took me by surprise. This kind of thing still did. I had to pinch myself to remind myself that I was actually the Captain of this team but more than that it just made no sense that my opinion mattered to men twice my age with more experience and more knowledge than I had yet to learn. It was flattering, but it made me anxious about saying something stupid. Plus there was the fact that, just selfishly, I wanted to play with Viktor and Hoss.

"I think Bolland and Hayes would give him room to move," I suggested. Putting Kaner on the third or fourth line would give the boys in the media something besides me to talk about. Stan tapped his pen on the paperwork in front of him and looked thoughtful.

"How do you think he's doing?" he asked without looking up at me. I swallowed my first reply which would have been to ask when the fuck did I become Kaner's keeper and instead I shrugged.

"He seems good, in shape, more focused than usual." Any more positive and Stan would think I was blowing smoke up his ass which I just about was.

"Good, well...I think he took us all by surprise with Beth." Stan raised his gaze slowly and then levelled it at me. Had he seen the looks shared between us? Despite the fact that most of the guys, myself included, thought Stan had cameras everywhere and eyes in the back of his head, I felt pretty confident that he hadn't.

"She seems like a stabilizing influence," I agreed noncommittally. Stan nodded, once and then closed he folder in front of him.

"I guess that's all for now. Thank you for your time Jonathan." I nodded, ignoring that he'd used my full name, which almost no one ever did anymore except Coach Q when he was pissed and of course my mother when I'm in trouble.

"No trouble," I smiled and got up and turned to leave already thinking about her sitting just on the other side of that door at one of those desks. I wondered if she'd look up when I walked through the door or if she'd pretend she didn't hear the door opening.

"And Jon...." I rolled my eyes. I should have known, it was too easy. "I turned and smiled patiently at Stan who was writing something in a leather bound date book on his desk. "Let's have a better season hmmm?"

"That's my goal," I replied politically instead of the first response that leapt to the tip of my tongue which was `we fuckin' better'. I personally couldn't stand another disappointing season like the last one.

Speaking of which....

"Don't ever do that again." She wasn't really filing. She was loitering near the filing cabinet waiting for me to come out of Stan's office. She hissed like a cat, narrowed her eyes at me and then spun on her heel and sashayed across the office, swinging her hips like a pendulum on a grandfather clock.

I waited for her to slide behind her desk, to sit and stare at her computer screen as if she couldn't see me and then I walked just past her, just far enough to let her think I was leaving and only then did I stop and turn back. I reached out and brushed my fingertips down the curve of her neck and then leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"You can pretend you don't want me to touch you but we both know it's a lie." I felt her bristle but I heard her sharp intake of breath too.

"Stop," she hissed but she didn't try to brush my hand away, didn't duck away from my touch.

"Don't you mean...more?" I whispered, running my thumb up the back of her neck. I watched the goose bumps race across her skin and I wanted to chase them with my mouth.

 I didn't wait for her to answer. I turned and left, whistling while I walked out of the office.

"Do you want to watch something else?" I hit pause on the remote and waited to hear if she'd even heard me. Beth stared into space, unblinking. I didn't think she'd been watching the movie for some time now and the only reason I was watching it was because she'd chosen it. "Betts...something wrong?" I gave her knee a squeeze. She blinked and turned to smile at me.

"Mmm?"

"This Doctor Winter Russian movie thing...you're not even watching it," I pointed out. She frowned and then heaved a sigh and rubbed her eyes. "It's making me cold," I added to make her smile again. She smirked and dug her toes further beneath my thigh.

"It's called Doctor Zhivago and you're lucky I'm not making you watch the original. At least you get to watch Keira Knightly," she pointed out. I shrugged.

"She needs to eat a cookie. You're prettier." She rolled her eyes at me but the look in her eyes changed, all the amusement leaking slowly from her eyes.

"What happened to that cocky boy that came into the bar that night?" she asked quietly.

"Whaddaya mean?" I asked, watching her looking at me as if I'd done something funny.  

"I don't know," she said softly, sliding her feet out from under me, getting to her knees and then crawling across the couch towards me. "I just never imagined there was such a...a big softy underneath." She climbed into my lap and as I sat there, watching her, she cupped my cheeks in her hands and ran her thumbs along them.

"You care about me, don't you?" she asked quietly, a look of surprised wonder on her face.

"Yeah," I replied, frowning. She smiled then and leaned in and kissed me gently. When she tried to pull back I wrapped my arms around her and deepened the kiss. I heard the remote fall to the floor as I eased myself down into the cushions and pulled her down with me.

"Do you want me?" she whispered against my lips. I raised my hips and pressed my hard on against her to prove how much. She smiled down at me, raised herself up on her knees again and, as I watched, she pulled her t-shirt over her head. She had nice tits. I filled my hands with them and she leaned into my hand, covering my hands with her own as she closed her eyes. I squeezed them and rolled her nipples between my fingers and watched them grow.

Reaching back she pulled her hair out of her pony tail and shook it loose so that it fell softly around her shoulders, like flames licking snow white hills. I ran my hands down her rib cage and onto her hips and pressed myself up against her again. She smiled down at me as I eased her pyjama bottoms over her hips and then slid my hand inside.

She made a humming sound as I slid my fingers down into the valley of her pussy. She licked her lips as I strummed her clit with my thumb. As I slid my fingers further along her cleft and eased them up into her she lifted her tits up and together, and as I watched she tugged at her own nipples and then gasped.

"Yess," she hissed and threw her head back. I plunged my fingers up inside of her, in and out, in and out as she rocked against my hand. "Harder," she whispered and I did as she asked, driving my fingers as deeply into her pussy as I could, fast and hard. She squeezed one nipple between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand and reached down and pressed her other fingers against her clit. "Fasssster," she whispered breathlessly and I did, shoving three fingers up into her now.

"I want to fuck you." She shook her head, her mouth pressed closed.

"Not yet," she gasped, licking her lips and tilting her head back. I looked down at her fingers rotating quickly against her clit. "So clossse," she hissed, grimacing.

"It would be better with my dick inside you," I promised, pressing my now painful cock up against her. It wanted to be in the warm, tight wet of her pussy. She moaned but shook her head again.

"Not. Yet." she hissed more ferociously this time. I could feel her slickness covering my hand and I wanted her juices on my cock. She grunted and then clenched her teeth together and released a long, low groan. I lifted my hand and mimicked the way she squeezed and rolled her nipple and she gasped and then a slow, fucking sexy smile blossomed on her face.

"You like that?" I asked, thinking I'd hate it, that it would hurt.

"Yesss," she hissed, her eyes focussing on me. I squeezed harder and her mouth fell open in a soundless cry. I pressed my fingers up into her and pulled, then squeezed her nipple and then she cried out, a wordless sound of pure joy.